CHAPTER 98

Seeing Uchiha Fugaku remove his mask, Uchiha Kai finally let out a quiet breath of relief.

That's right—Kai had been waiting for this exact moment. Waiting for Fugaku's next move.

If the Uchiha clan head was willing to show his face, it meant there was still room for discussion. It meant that, despite everything Kai had said—despite the truths he'd laid bare—Fugaku still considered this conversation worth continuing. Kai had revealed too much to turn back now, offered insights and perspectives that proved his worth was far beyond average. Fugaku was no fool; if he had a choice, he'd know the right one to make.

But if he hadn't taken off that mask—if he had chosen silence or aggression—then Kai was fully prepared to use his chakra and Mangekyō Sharingan without hesitation. The eyes had already been awakened. There was already blood on his hands in Konoha. One more name wouldn't matter.

Whether or not the Uchiha clan would be left leaderless, whether their plans would collapse—none of that would have mattered in that moment. Kai would simply ensure that anyone who knew about his Mangekyō and refused to cooperate… wouldn't live to speak of it.

Fortunately, Kai had laid enough groundwork beforehand. His earlier words had been measured, even generous at times. And thankfully, Fugaku didn't seem to have any intention of escalating to violence.

When Fugaku finally took off his mask and faced Kai directly, it was a clear signal—an unspoken offer of peace, or at the very least, of honesty.

Still, Kai couldn't help but feel a twinge of irony. All that planning, all that effort, and yet it might have been the Mangekyō itself that truly shifted the balance.

This was the ninja world: strength was the foundation. Politics, tactics, and diplomacy were all just tools. True negotiations only happened between equals—between those with enough power to force the other to the table. Compromise wasn't idealism; it was necessity.

With those thoughts in mind, Kai masked his inner relief with a show of surprise. He had, after all, once faked his death on the battlefield—his acting skills weren't half bad.

He widened his eyes slightly, as if stunned by Fugaku's appearance. The reaction wasn't missed. Fugaku chuckled softly.

"Don't look so shocked, Kai-kun," Fugaku said, tossing the mask aside. His eyes, once glowing with power, now returned to black. The illusion—an intricate genjutsu world of interwoven black and white—shattered completely.

Kai didn't resist. The illusion wasn't his to begin with; he had merely seized temporary control. Now that Fugaku had voluntarily dispelled it, there was no point in maintaining resistance.

Seeing the change, Kai slowly deactivated his own Sharingan. That too was a signal of sorts.

"I didn't expect the clan head to be so cautious," he said as the real world reformed around them. His tone was even, but deliberate.

"We're both cautious, Kai-kun," Fugaku replied, his voice calm but tinged with gravity. "I didn't expect you to possess those eyes. It seems I was right—your Sharingan had already awakened, hadn't it?"

"Yes," Kai said flatly, too tired to hide it any longer. "It first awakened during a battlefield skirmish. My captain was killed protecting me. That's when the eyes opened."

He didn't add that his Mangekyō had awakened through an intricate genjutsu-induced trauma—not the traditional means of witnessing the death of a loved one. That method, for now, was his secret. He wasn't even sure it would work on others.

This was something to test… later. Carefully. And only with someone he could trust—someone from the clan, perhaps.

"I see," Fugaku nodded. "That makes sense. But… why hide it all this time?"

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you show yours?"

The question landed. Fugaku's expression shifted slightly, and Kai smiled—just a little.

"I didn't show my Sharingan because I didn't want to. The first to show strength is always the first to be targeted. And the Mangekyō…"

He didn't finish the sentence, just let his words hang in the air with a knowing smile. Let Fugaku fill in the blanks himself.

Fugaku considered his response, then slowly nodded. It was true. In this village—especially under the Third Hokage's rule—a Uchiha displaying excessive power would only invite suspicion, scrutiny… and worse.

He himself had chosen to bury the Mangekyō. For the sake of peace. For the sake of preventing disaster.

"Kai-kun… you're not easy to read," Fugaku said at last. "But you're right. If a Mangekyō suddenly appeared in the clan… both the village and the family would react. And not well."

Kai smirked. "Exactly. I have no intention of being someone else's weapon."

"Then," Fugaku said, straightening his posture, "can we speak openly now? About your concerns, and your… actions? Uchiha Yu was one of our elites. A hardliner. You knew what your decision meant."

Kai didn't flinch. "He's just the first," he said bluntly. "There will be more."

Fugaku stared at him. "Are you suggesting the entire hardliner faction—?"

"Do you remember what I told you before?" Kai cut in, his tone quiet but intense.

Fugaku paused. He did remember. Kai had warned him—warned that the Uchiha were heading for disaster if things continued unchecked.

Still, Fugaku hesitated. Even if the hardliners were eliminated, could the clan's relationship with Konoha ever truly be mended? Could this really prevent the catastrophe Kei feared?

He found himself doubting Kai's intelligence for a moment… but then stopped. Two Mangekyō users, both capable, both unpredictable—he couldn't afford to take any chances.

"I remember. But even if we purge the hardliners, what then?" Fugaku asked. "So long as someone who shares the Second Hokage's ideology sits in the Hokage's chair, all your efforts will be in vain."

"What would you do, Fugaku?" Kai asked calmly, arms crossed. "Try to negotiate? Keep your head down? Silence the angry voices in the clan?"

Fugaku blinked, caught off guard by Kai's accuracy. But he nodded.

"Yes. That's my current strategy."

Kai sighed. It was what he expected. It was, after all, what Fugaku did attempt in canon: to suppress internal dissent and seek a peaceful path—even while secretly harboring doubts about the village's trust.

But that approach wouldn't work. Not with the Third Hokage. Not when the next crisis hit and the Uchiha were the easiest scapegoat.

Not when Danzo Shimura was still alive.

"Then you already know," Kai said softly. "Once a crisis hits, and they need someone to blame… the Uchiha will be the first to burn."