Fugaku finished with a tone sharp enough to cut through the entire council. "We're not asking to be Hokage. But if you won't even grant our reasonable requests… then we will leave. With that child. Since even you do not appreciate us."
The clan heads erupted into murmurs.
Shikaku frowned. "Yondaime has a child?"
Inoichi blinked. "This is the first I've heard of it."
Chōza leaned forward. "If he does… then we should meet him. He's the son of our hero."
Hiashi turned to Shibi. "Did you know anything about this?"
Shibi shook his head once. "No. This is my first time hearing it."
Koharu struck the floor with her cane. "What nonsense. We all know the Fourth died childless—there is no record of any descendant—"
Fugaku cut her off with a cold glare. "I suggest we stop lying. That child is the hero's son. And you conveniently forgot he also carries something inside him. Isn't that right, Sandaime?"
The room froze.
Fugaku pressed further, voice steady but merciless. "Would you like to reveal the boy's name now? Since all of you have seen him. Spoken to him. Watched him. And yet remained blind."
A thought slid through his mind like a quiet gamble. Naruto might kill me and dice me into a hundred pieces for this… but it's worth it. From the look on his face yesterday, he doesn't even like Minato.
Hiruzen swallowed once. "Is the child well, Fugaku…? Is he… safe?"
Fugaku's expression didn't soften. "What do you think? He grew up in poverty. Ate cup ramen almost every day. I'm surprised he's still healthy."
Hiruzen lowered his gaze. Troubled. "Can I meet the boy again? I've met him many times, but he rarely visits my office anymore."
Fugaku shut him down instantly. "How about my demands first. Will you accept them? Yes or no. That's it."
Koharu stiffened. Homura opened his mouth—but Fugaku spoke louder.
"If no, we leave. That's the end of it. No more soothing words and excuses. I'm tired of being pressed and bullied."
Hiruzen clenched his jaw, breath heavy. "All right. We can fulfill some of the demands."
Fugaku crossed his arms. "Seventy-five percent. And that's already reaching my boiling point."
Koharu leaned forward, voice sharp. "Fugaku, at least for the stability of the village, you need to—"
Fugaku rose to his feet, chair sliding back. "Thank you for understanding. I guess we are no longer part of—"
"ENOUGH!"
The word slammed through the chamber.
Hiruzen's palm hit the table. Papers rattled. Every clan head froze for a heartbeat.
"All right," Hiruzen said, voice cracking with the weight of the decision. "Fugaku. I will fulfill eighty-five percent of your demands. That is my offer."
Fugaku paused. Then nodded once, slow and deliberate. "That's what I wanted to hear."
Fugaku stepped out of the meeting room, adjusting his cloak as several clan heads immediately approached.
Shikaku crossed his arms. "Fugaku… is the child really like his father?"
Inoichi leaned in, far too curious. "Is he handsome? I mean—good prospects for my daughter Ino's future partner, you know."
Chōza rubbed his chin. "I'm more curious why we never actually meet him."
Fugaku exhaled, eyes dimming with a weight none of them expected. "We've all met him. Many times. We just ignored him."
Fugaku continued, voice flat. "And I suggest you avoid him. That child is not what he used to be."
Hiashi stepped forward, Byakugan dormant but gaze sharp. "Then tell us the child's name. Stop leaving us in question."
Fugaku's expression hardened. "I can't do that."
"Why?" Hiashi pressed.
Fugaku glanced at the sky and lowered his voice. "Because that child… is far too powerful."
He bowed his head slightly to the group. "I need to leave now, gentlemen. Today has been… tiring." He turned and walked away from the office, footsteps steady but heavy.
Choza watched him go and scratched his cheek. "You think Fugaku's lying?"
Shikaku shook his head. "Nope. From his expression, he's not. What bothers me is why even he's scared of the Fourth's child. It's like he doesn't want to cross him at all."
Inoichi exhaled, folding his arms. "Not our business anyway. What was closed has been torn open—and those advisors aren't as good as we used to think."
Fugaku left the group and stepped into the open street, the afternoon sun cutting long shadows across Konoha. He barely made it thirty steps before an old, familiar voice drifted behind him.
"Fugaku… can this old man walk with you on your way home?"
Hiruzen emerged from the corner, robes heavy, eyes tired.
Fugaku didn't break stride. "Suit yourself, Sandaime."
They walked side by side through quieter roads, the distant chatter of civilians filling the air. A few moments passed before Hiruzen finally spoke.
"How is Naruto?"
Fugaku kept his gaze forward. "Very fine. And… a bit changing."
"Changing?" Hiruzen rubbed his chin. "You mean he spread paint again on the streets?"
Fugaku almost snorted—almost. A thought flashed through him. Ohhh… everyone still thinks Naruto is that goofy brat seeking attention. Not the boy wearing an eyepatch and a noble cloak, looking like some magician from a foreign land.
He exhaled. "Sandaime. This matter about Naruto… can be easily resolved if you just tell them the truth. You and I both know that."
Hiruzen sighed, heavy and old. "The truth… would shake this village, Fugaku."
"It already has," Fugaku answered. "I know you're a good hokage … but you keep letting pressure control you. And that makes you weak."
Hiruzen's step faltered. "I want to meet Naruto today. Can I come?"
Fugaku said "You can't, Sandaime."
Hiruzen insisted, voice tightening. "I must. I promised Minato that I would take care—"
Fugaku cut him sharply. "I'm saying this for your sake as well. Naruto… the one we know… is not what he currently is. And all that stress piled on him every day? By default, it's your fault he grew up in poverty."
Hiruzen stopped walking, the weight of the words sinking into him. "If what you mean is the Kyūbi inside him reacting, then we must—"
"No." Fugaku's tone stayed cold. "Not the Kyūbi. This isn't about the beast. It's about him. Naruto. He's changed. And I can't tell you more."
Hiruzen's brows knit together. "Then how am I supposed to understand anything?"
"Open your ears," Fugaku said, turning away. "Listen to the kids who met him recently in the Academy. And especially Iruka. If you want the truth, start with them."
Hiruzen hesitated. "You mean the rumor Mizuki spread? That Naruto wielded a three-meter katana? That's just a foolish rant—"
Fugaku didn't look back. "I can't speak further. And thank you, Sandaime… for the walk."
He vanished in a sharp body flicker, leaving Hiruzen alone on the street with the wind brushing past him like an unanswered question.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Inside the Uchiha compound, Mikoto hurried toward him immediately, wiping her hands on her apron. "Did it work, my husband?"
Fugaku finally exhaled, tension rolling off his shoulders. "Perfect execution. Honestly… I never expected they'd grant that many demands."
Mikoto glanced around the house—corners, hallway, ceiling—checking carefully for any sign of a certain blond menace slipping in through swirling cards. Only after being sure he wasn't there did she lean closer and whisper, "Fugaku… is Naruto…?"
Fugaku nodded once. "Yes. He's the Yondaime's son. And by default… the same child Kushina mentioned to you. The one she said would be friends with Sasuke."
Mikoto pressed a hand over her mouth, guilt soft in her voice. "Ouhhh… I should have taken him in when he was a baby."
Fugaku stepped out of his sandals, loosening his cloak. "Where is Naruto anyway? Usually he pops up with those swirling cards of his."
"I haven't seen him since this morning," Mikoto said. "Though… I hope he comes by again."
A sudden rasp of black cards sliced through the air. Reality folded, shadows spiraled, and Naruto stepped out of the vortex as if returning from another world.
"So," Naruto said, cane tapping the tatami once, "how does it feel now, Fugaku? Holding your enemies by the throat. Exciting, isn't it."
Mikoto immediately changed the topic, stepping closer gently. "Naruto… can you be our stepson? Let loose to us. You can tell every pain you've been carrying. I promised Kushina that—"
Naruto's eye shifted instantly, sclera turning blue, iris burning red. The Nightmare pressure flickered for half a heartbeat before he forced it down.
"Don't mention that name again," he said flatly.
Mikoto stepped back, startled.
Naruto continued, voice razor-sharp. "And you better keep your bargain, Fugaku. Three days from now."
Fugaku frowned. "What's so important that you need all of the Uchiha clan to gaze at the moon with our Sharingan active?"
Naruto tapped the cane against the floor. Cards flickered along the edges of his silhouette.
"That's not your concern," he said. "But I can assure you—it will have zero impact on Konoha, and zero impact on the Uchiha clan." He glanced up. "If you insist on seeing what I'll do… then watch. Since you're being so pushy."
Fugaku folded his arms. "Naruto. The Sandaime insisted on seeing you. He asked if your condition was well."
Naruto didn't even blink. "Tell him he can meet me after I finish all my chores this year."
Fugaku stiffened. "Naruto… I can't keep postponing him. It risks me. And my clan."
Naruto tilted his head, the cards around him darkening. "Fugaku. I know you spoke with Itachi about my full circumstances. You didn't bring Sasuke—good. It's heavy enough." He clicked his tongue. "And you escalated things. I told you to do a little more easy way first… but fine."
He lowered the cane, voice flattening into something sharp enough to cut bone. "However, I suggest you postpone that meeting. Because there's a high chance that if I see him right now… I'm going to cut him into a hundred pieces and scatter his shit across Konoha."
Mikoto's breath caught. Even Fugaku froze for a heartbeat.
Naruto's eye flicked to him. "And Fugaku—this is something I can't forgive if you fail. Three days from now, during the full moon. I expect every Uchiha to do exactly what I told you."
Black cards surged upward, swirling into a tight funnel. The tatami rippled under his feet before his body dissolved into the storm—vanishing in a blink.