Throne Of The Uchiha

Father and Son Night Talk

After tending to his injuries at Konoha Hospital and watching his companions receive treatment, Fugaku finally stepped into the cool night. The village was quiet under the pale glow of the moon.

He bid farewell to the medics and exited the hospital, glancing briefly at the sky before vanishing with a flicker of his body—a swift Shunshin no Jutsu.

On the rooftops of Konoha, faint glimmers of scarlet Sharingan flashed in the shadows. Uchiha patrol squads moved with practiced precision, their eyes scanning every alley, rooftop, and shadow.

The Uchiha Police Force's current surveillance of Konoha was a far cry from its past negligence. No longer riddled with blind spots, the patrols moved in synchronized rotations—a living net of eyes.

With such vigilance, even the subtlest disturbance could not escape detection.

As he moved across the rooftops, Fugaku kept his Sharingan activated—not only to navigate but also to identify himself. It minimized misunderstandings with other patrol units. He paused now and then to nod at fellow clansmen, most of whom recognized him immediately.

When he finally arrived at the Uchiha compound, the lights in his home were still on. A silhouette moved within—his father, Uchiha Tenjo. The elder, once the head of the clan, had long since passed the mantle to Fugaku, but still maintained a firm presence within the clan.

Fugaku slid open the door.

Tenjo turned, his stern features softening with quiet relief. For a moment, he was not a patriarch but simply a father.

"You've kept watch all this time?" Fugaku asked, bowing slightly in respect. "Thank you for waiting, Father. I stayed longer at the hospital than expected to ensure everyone was stable."

Tenjo gave a rare smile. "You've returned safely. That's enough for me."

The two sat down across from one another. A quiet moment passed before Tenjo spoke again.

"I've heard about your mission in the Land of Earth," he said. "Assassinating high-value targets is always dangerous. Escaping under the enemy's encirclement, even more so."

He studied his son. "And wounding Huang Yan, Iwagakure's elite jonin—few could've achieved that."

Fugaku bowed his head slightly. "I was fortunate. Huang Yan had a weak resistance to genjutsu. It gave me an opening."

Of course, Fugaku didn't mention the Mangekyō Sharingan. That secret was his alone—for now. In the world of shinobi, power brought not only prestige but also danger. The fewer who knew, the better.

Tenjo shook his head, disagreeing.

"You underestimate yourself. Huang Yan is a veteran known across multiple nations. Regardless of how the opportunity arose, your ability to seize it speaks volumes."

He continued, "The war has forced the higher-ups in Konoha to reevaluate you. Before, they may have seen you as just a capable jonin—useful, but replaceable. But an elite jonin? That's different. You're now a strategic asset."

"In smaller villages, elite jonin are often the cornerstone of military strength. Even in Konoha, they are few."

Fugaku nodded. "I encountered Lord Danzo earlier today, near the Hokage's office. He extended an invitation to join Root."

Tenjo's expression darkened slightly, though he remained composed.

"Root…" he said quietly. "A relic of turbulent times. It served Konoha in ways the public will never understand—but also in ways that have left scars. Danzo is both a patriot and a shadow. He follows the Second Hokage's legacy: order through fear, strength through control... and he distrusts the Uchiha deeply."

Fugaku remembered all too well. Danzo's ideals were wrapped in loyalty to the village, but his methods lacked transparency. His manipulation of Uchiha Shisui—stealing his Mangekyō eye—was only one example of how far he would go for what he believed was the greater good.

Tenjo's voice dropped lower. "If you ever consider working with Root… be cautious. Danzo values power, but he fears what he cannot control. You are Uchiha. That alone puts you in his crosshairs."

Fugaku bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Understood, Father. For now, I plan to serve as a jonin instructor for a while. I want to get a clearer understanding of the next generation—and of Konoha's internal politics."

Tenjo smiled faintly. "You've grown well. Calm, thoughtful… not rash, like so many Uchiha before. You are worthy not just as a shinobi, but as the next leader of our clan."

The two spoke quietly through the night, the candlelight flickering between them as the moon gave way to dawn. When the first rays of sunlight broke the horizon, they finally stood.

Fugaku retired for rest, sleeping deeply for the first time in days.

---

The Next Day

It was nearly noon when Fugaku awoke. After washing up, he dressed simply and headed to the flower shop. He selected four bouquets and made his way to Konoha Hospital.

His teammates had suffered heavy injuries. Though he had seen them the night before, he needed to see them again—to reassure himself.

As he stepped through the hospital's sliding doors, a familiar figure in a green coat stood at the end of the hall. Blonde hair, confident posture… and the kanji for "gamble" boldly stitched on the back.

Tsunade Senju.

She turned, sensing movement behind her. The sunlight pouring in through the window made her squint slightly.

"Uchiha Fugaku?" she asked, eyebrow raised in faint recognition.

Fugaku gave a short bow. "Tsunade-senpai. I'm surprised you still remember me."

Tsunade gave a small nod and walked on without a word.

As she passed, Fugaku watched her retreating figure.

He knew Tsunade's wariness wasn't personal—it was generational. The wounds left by Madara Uchiha's rebellion still lingered in the village's collective memory. Even though Madara had severed ties with the Uchiha before his final battle with the First Hokage, his name alone still cast a long shadow.

Fugaku moved through the hospital and found the ward where Ning and the others were resting. It was a shared room, lined with beds and medical equipment. The overflow of wounded from the Rain Country front had forced the hospital to consolidate space.

The four patients were asleep, breathing evenly. Fugaku placed a bouquet next to each bed. He stood there silently for a moment—then turned and left without waking them.

Outside, the breeze carried with it the distant sounds of Konoha's life moving forward.

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