Two mornings later, Ishiki Kujo bit his thumb and summoned The President.
He immediately created a new shadow clone and inserted a disc containing the Byakugan into its brain.
The clone opened its eyes—veins bulging with the power of the Hyūga—and pressed its hand to the ruby, entering The President's dimensional vault. The Stand vanished.
Far away, in the Land of Frost, another clone pulled a small vial of blood from its pouch and began weaving hand seals.
With a puff of smoke, The President materialized—and the Byakugan-wielding clone emerged from the vault.
The two clones exchanged a silent nod before the one who performed the summoning dissolved into smoke.
The remaining clone activated the Byakugan and scanned the area. The President had disappeared again, fading beneath his feet.
Not far away stood a house. Unremarkable from the outside. Ordinary. But Ishiki knew—his Stand resided inside.
The Byakugan swept the surroundings. No one in sight. The clone approached the house and entered.
Inside, he found his Stand.
He issued a command. It obeyed.
Relief flickered across the clone's expression. With that confirmation, he left the house and hid nearby.
He had only two objectives.
One: ensure the Stand wouldn't trigger traps or walk into an ambush of enemy shinobi.
Two: make sure the Stand didn't harm any Konoha ninja.
Anyone else who entered that house—enemy, outsider, or unlucky fool—would be digested by the Stand and fed to Ishiki's true body.
As the shadow clone positioned himself, a piece of intelligence landed on the Fourth Raikage's desk.
"A house that devours people. All who enter are cursed by ghosts. They emerge as mummified corpses—if they emerge at all."
The Raikage read the report aloud, scowling.
"Ghosts? Bah. Superstitious garbage. No such thing. This reeks of Konoha's trickery."
Beside him stood Mabui, young yet already razor-sharp. "I agree it's probably some shinobi technique. But… as the intel says, no one has ever come out alive. Our elite, the Frost shinobi—everyone who investigated that house has died."
She handed him two more files.
"It moves," Raikage muttered, reading. "But always near roads. Illusions only activate when ninja pass nearby. Even Konoha's lost people to it?"
"Yes," Mabui nodded. "That's what's strange. The house doesn't discriminate. It attacks us, Frost ninja, and Konoha shinobi alike. Makes you wonder—could this be the handiwork of the Land of Earth? Or the Land of Water?"
"Water's unlikely. They're a mess internally—civil war, no time for side games. But… this method smells of them. Still, the framing tactic feels more like Ōnoki's style."
Raikage drummed his fingers on the desk. "Has Yugito returned?"
"She's en route," Mabui replied quickly.
"Then send her to deal with it. Burn the whole damn thing down. Whether ghost or human, it won't be jumping out of the ashes."
That was the Fourth Raikage's way—don't ponder who's pulling the strings. Just yank the whole web down.
Mabui nodded. That approach suited Lady Yugito perfectly. Efficient. Ruthless. And she was already passing by the region.
"There's more," Mabui said. "Lady Yugito reports that Troy may have been killed in action."
Raikage's face darkened.
"…Orochimaru?"
"No. She suspects it was an Uchiha from Konoha. The battle site showed massive fire damage. If you combine that with Sharingan genjutsu… it would've been hell for Troy."
Raikage slammed his fist into the desk.
"Damn it. Those cursed Uchiha again!"
And the very Uchiha who made the Raikage grind his teeth were facing their own storm.
"Clan Head—Shō's eye was stolen the night of the Nine-Tails attack. Danzo specifically forbade the Konoha Police Force from joining the defense. Doesn't that strike you as… suspicious?"
Uchiha Hachidai stood before the clan leader, Fugaku Uchiha, his face tight with barely suppressed fury.
Shō had been one of Hachidai's most promising subordinates. A frontline officer. On the night of disaster, he was mauled by the Kyūbi. He didn't just lose his Sharingan—he forgot how to mold chakra. Villagers whispered the Uchiha were cowards. That the Konoha Police—manned by Uchiha—didn't fight when the village needed them.
But Hachidai wanted to ask—were those first Uchiha to die or end up hospitalized illusions? Were their bodies lies?
"Hachidai," Fugaku growled. His own expression had twisted.
Across the room stood another man, equally grim: Uchiha Shisui.
Now Shisui understood. He hadn't been recalled from the front to counter Kumo. He'd been called home to spy on his clan.
The Hokage, Danzo, the advisors—none of them trusted the Uchiha. They feared the clan might exploit Konoha's weakened state to revolt.
Shisui's real assignment: report everything. Monitor the clan. And if needed—raise his blade against his own blood.
Why couldn't there be peace? Shisui's pupils quivered. His Mangekyō Sharingan threatened to awaken unbidden.
"I know more than you think," Fugaku said darkly. "But we are part of Konoha. Investigate Shō's case. Until we expose what happened, we can't prove our innocence."
Fugaku knew Danzo's games. He'd barred the Police from the fight, spread rumors that the Kyūbi had been under Uchiha control, and the next day demanded clan members retreat from hospitals to heal in private—erasing all signs of the clan's sacrifices.
But what could Fugaku do?
Too many eyes watched their every step. One misstep could doom them all.
He glanced at Shisui—this prodigy, this hope of the Uchiha.
With his war record and the buzz stirred by the Raikage's own announcement, Shisui now carried more weight in Konoha than any Uchiha before him.
If he could do more—push further—maybe, just maybe, the clan's fate could change.