Chapter 156: The First Victims for Fear

"Let's meet the first victims of their fear," Naruto said, voice low and sharp, as he placed a few red-haired figurines onto the table—miniatures that looked eerily like himself, Kushina, Kana, and Karin.

"The Uzumaki Clan."

At that name, a hush fell over the room. Kushina's face tightened with old wounds, Kana's eyes flickered with sorrow, Karin clenched her fists, and Tsunade—who'd known the clan well—looked away with a mix of regret and fury.

"As most of you know, the founding pillars of Konoha were the Senju, Uchiha, and Uzumaki clans. But while the Senju and Uchiha made their homes here, the Uzumaki… didn't. They had their own land. Their own nation. Uzushiogakure."

He tapped the red-haired figures gently.

"They didn't fall because they were weak. No… they were feared because of their greatest strength—Fuinjutsu. Sealing techniques are so powerful that they can even bind the Bijuu. They held knowledge no other clan possessed. And that scared the world."

He glanced at each of them before asking, his tone darkening:

"Does anyone here know how they were destroyed?"

Tsunade, the only one present who knew more than most—save perhaps Orochimaru and Naruto—spoke first, her voice quiet but steady.

"They were massacred in a single night. Completely blindsided. The real attackers were never fully identified… but many believe it was Kirigakure, maybe a few from Kumogakure too."

Orochimaru didn't speak. He didn't need to. His silence was louder than words—eyes sharp, watching everything, reading the room like a book he'd written.

Then Naruto dropped the truth like a kunai to the heart.

"Partially correct," he said, voice cutting through the tension like wind through mist. "The truth is… a few scattered shinobi didn't just attack the Uzumaki. All five Great Nations took part—including Konoha."

He reached forward and arranged the toys on the table—the red-haired Uzumaki figures now surrounded by figurines representing each of the five villages. But behind the Uzumaki toys, he added the Konoha ones—facing away, weapons drawn, turned against their supposed allies.

A visual betrayal.

Gasps erupted across the room. Arguments flared.

"How could that even happen?!"

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Why would Konoha—?"

Only Tsunade, Kushina, and Orochimaru remained quiet, their faces like storm clouds.

"Relax," Naruto said, raising a hand to steady the chaos. "Let me explain."

He pointed at the trio of tall figurines: the Senju, the Uchiha, and the Uzumaki.

"After the First Great Ninja War, these three clans still held the most power. Not just in numbers, but in strength, reputation, and unique jutsu. If the other villages had really wanted to wipe out the Uzumaki, they couldn't have done it in one night. Not when the Uzumaki had techniques like Kagura Shingan—one of the best sensory abilities in the world."

That thought lingered in the air, cold and heavy.

Even Orochimaru nodded, his voice like silk wrapped around a dagger. "That… does make sense."

One by one, the others calmed down, the pieces beginning to click into place. But confusion still lingered—why would Konoha, of all places, betray its closest ally?

Naruto looked around the room, his expression solemn, his voice filled with quiet rage.

"I don't have concrete proof. Not yet. But think logically—without Konoha's involvement, the other villages couldn't have pulled it off. Whether Konoha attacked directly or simply leaked vital intel—weaknesses, seal structures, terrain layouts—it doesn't matter. The fact is... they let it happen. They were the Uzumaki's only ally. And they turned their backs."

Silence.

Painful. Cold. Real.

And just like that, the foundation of everything they thought they knew about Konoha? Cracked.

"After their destruction," Naruto continued, his voice softer now, almost mournful, "a few Uzumaki managed to escape. Scattered to other villages… survivors, not warriors. Exceptions like my mom were spared—" he looked at Kushina with a sad smile, "—but only because she was chosen as the vessel for Kurama. The Nine-Tails."

The words stung, even though Kushina knew them in her bones. Knowing something is one thing. Hearing it spoken aloud—raw and bare—was another. Her heart twisted, lips tightening as if tasting bitterness itself.

Around them, silence stretched. Sadness weighed heavily in the air. The others had known bits and pieces, but hearing it laid out so plainly—it hit like cold steel.

Orochimaru, as always, was the outlier. He listened intently, like a curious child watching the world unravel thread by thread. But that curiosity had long since mutated—warped by grief, by loss, by the deaths that shaped his heart into something twisted.

"But all of this…" Naruto went on, his voice darkening, "could've been stopped."

That caught everyone's attention.

"If—and only if—Tsunade's grandmother, Mito Uzumaki, had taken a stand against Hiruzen and his inner circle, things could've been different. She was respected. She was powerful. She was the wife of the First Hokage. But she stood still… watched like a statue while the Uzumaki were slaughtered. I don't know why. Maybe she was forced. Maybe she gave up. But that's the truth."

He didn't shout. He didn't need to. His voice carried the weight of a betrayal that history tried to bury.

Tsunade's face fell—not from shock, but heartbreak. And Kushina, who once saw Mito as a pillar of strength, could barely hold back the storm in her eyes.

For both of them, Mito had been more than a mentor. She was family, legacy, warmth in a cruel world. And now, that warmth felt cold. Distant. Like an ember left too long in the rain.

Naruto looked between the two of them—his mother and his honorary big sister. He saw the pain in their eyes. But he couldn't stop now. The truth had to be told.

"So," he said, standing tall again, voice regaining its fire, "let's talk about the next clan that fell victim."

He reached forward and gently placed a toy of Tsunade on the table—alone.

"The Senju themselves. Can anyone name a living Senju in Konoha… besides her?"

A heavy pause.

No one answered.

Because there was no one else.

Just Tsunade.

Just one leaf from what was once a mighty tree.

"A clan that once stood tall—proud, unmatched—reduced to just one name."

Naruto's voice was low now, heavy with the sorrow of history. He held up the Tsunade toy gently, like honoring the last ember of a dying flame.

"It didn't happen overnight. Tobirama played a huge role in this. For all his principles and structure, he set the Senju on a path toward dissolution. Only the main family members stayed in the Senju compound. The rest? They were scattered—married into civilian lines, made to live as ordinary citizens."

He paused, then added, "Maybe Tobirama meant well. Maybe it was to prevent fear from rising in the hearts of other clans. But that 'peace'… came at a cost."

The others in the room listened with wide eyes and grim expressions. Tsunade had heard fragments of this truth before, but never this clearly. Orochimaru, ever the shadowed scholar, remained still, observing everything.

Naruto continued, "With the Senju dispersed, Hiruzen and his group had a much easier time. No clan meant no political power. No legacy to protect. So when the wars broke out, those with Senju blood—hidden or not—were sent to the front lines. One by one, they died."

He turned to Tsunade, his tone quiet, careful.

"Even your brother wasn't spared."

The words landed like a blade through silk. Tsunade's eyes flickered, and Orochimaru's jaw tightened.

For Tsunade, Nawaki had been hope—family, a light in the growing dark.

For Orochimaru, he had been the last tether to something human. Something kind.

"And don't you think it's strange," Naruto asked, his eyes narrowing, "how often their locations were compromised? How often enemy shinobi—especially from Iwa—just happened to find them?"

Orochimaru, ever the voice of logic, muttered, "Intel leaks happen. It's war. Nothing unusual."

Naruto didn't flinch. "Sure. Once, twice… maybe. But every time, Senju blood was on the battlefield? They were intercepted. Eliminated."

He stepped closer to them both. Not accusing. But not backing down either.

"You both know what that means."

A silence followed. Not from ignorance—but from understanding. From truths neither of them had wanted to speak out loud.