The forest stood in solemn silence, a heavy shroud enveloping the clearing, bearing witness to the aftermath of battle.
The air was thick with tension, carrying remnants of the confrontation, a memory lingering like smoke in the air.
Amid the fallen leaves and shattered bark, Shisui Uchiha lay sprawled across the forest floor, his body bruised and burned.
His clothes were tattered, singed at the edges, and stained with a disturbing mix of dirt and blood, the evidence of his failure etched into the very fabric of his being.
His once-proud posture had crumbled into a heap of exhaustion and disbelief, an unwelcome reminder of his defeat.
His breaths came in ragged draws, each inhale burning his lungs as if he were suffocating on the remnants of his pride.
How… how could I lose so completely…? he thought bitterly, frustration swirling around him like autumn leaves caught in a gale.
The wind carried no answer.
Shisui had faced many powerful shinobi in his life—ruthless swordsmen with deadly intent, brilliant tacticians whose strategies left no room for error, even high-ranking enemy jonin during brutal border conflicts.
Yet none had ever stripped him of his dignity like this.
A boy.
An eight-year-old child named Senju Gojo had defeated him without breaking a sweat, wielding the five basic elements with such mastery that Shisui couldn't even land a clean blow.
The pain gnawed at him like a relentless beast pulling at his insides, refusing to let go.
His fingers curled into the dirt, feeling the earth slip through his grasp as he struggled to come to terms with his failure.
I… am not strong enough.
The weight of shame settled on his shoulders like a mountain, every ounce of his pride, long polished by success and praise, now lay cracked and crumbling before him.
But beyond the pain and humiliation, there was something far worse clawing at his insides, whispering doubts that threatened to drown him.
Fear.
Gojo had resisted Kotoamatsukami—his ultimate technique, one of the most powerful genjutsu in existence.
And he hadn't just resisted.
He had broken it.
How…? What is he?
Shisui remained there a while longer, allowing the gentle breeze to cool the burning embarrassment coating his skin, an ephemeral balm against the stark reality of his situation.
Eventually, he sat up, wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, and forced himself to his feet, pushing through the haze of humiliation clouding his thoughts.
With stiff movements, he dusted off his clothes, brushing away the remnants of their conflict as if trying to erase the memory of defeat from his skin.
I can't afford to wallow in defeat, he told himself.
The Uchiha Clan… must be saved. No matter what.
The resolve ignited within him like a spark fighting against the overwhelming darkness.
And with that steely determination, he left the forest behind, stepping into a world filled with uncertainty, heading straight for the Hokage Tower, the heart of Konoha.
---
The Hokage building loomed in the village's heart, a testament to stability and power.
Its red tiled roof shimmered under the sun's glow, casting a reflection that glimmered like a beacon of hope amidst wavering doubts.
Guards stood at attention along the stairway, their stoic presence the only indication of the potent secrets hidden within.
Villagers moved through the streets below, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling behind these sacred walls.
Shisui marched through the winding corridors, each step firm with purpose, his heart pounding a rhythmic tattoo of resolve.
His expression was grim, determined as he embraced the weight of his clan's future.
His pride might be wounded, but his resolve remained unbroken, shaped like tempered steel.
He stood before the Hokage's door and knocked twice, the sound echoing through the stillness like a heartbeat echoing in an empty room.
A muffled voice replied, "Enter."
The doors swung open with a creak, betraying the gravity of the moment.
Inside, Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat behind his desk, a pipe in his hand, smoke curling lazily around his furrowed brows, dancing like wisps of faded memories lost in the ether.
His eyes, sharp yet weathered by years of burden and strife, focused intently on Shisui as the young Uchiha stepped into the room, bringing in the faint aroma of incense mixed with the gritty scent of determination.
"Shisui," the Hokage said with mild surprise, noting the way the young man's usually bright eyes held shadows today.
"You look… unwell. Has something happened?"
Shisui lowered his head respectfully, the weight of his responsibilities becoming heavier as he stepped forward and knelt on one leg.
"Hokage-sama. I have something urgent to report," he stated, forcing the tremor of vulnerability from his voice.
Hiruzen straightened in his seat, his fingers curling tightly around the pipe as he readied himself to listen.
Shisui exhaled deeply, steeling himself for the weighty revelation.
"It's about the Uchiha Clan. They are preparing for a coup."
Silence fell, heavy and oppressive, thickening the air like a storm cloud hovering just overhead.
Only the soft crackle of the incense filled the room, a haunting melody echoing the unspoken tensions.
The Third Hokage closed his eyes slowly and leaned back in his chair, as if the weight of the world had just settled upon his chest, pressing down like an anchor.
"I see…"
He opened his eyes again, weary yet composed.
Yet the depths of his expression spoke of old wounds and lingering fears.
"You know… I've tried my best, Shisui. I really have. But the hatred, the suspicion… it runs deep, like roots intertwined beneath the surface. This village is still haunted by the past. It's not as simple as it once was."
Shisui's heart clenched at the old man's solemn tone, the trepidation echoing through his mind.
This man—the one who had watched over them all, who had led the village through countless storms—was carrying a burden too great for one man to bear.
The shadows in the room seemed to stretch and twist as if conspiring against their shared hope.
Moved by the moment, Shisui knelt fully, bowing his head in deference.
"I understand, Lord Hokage. And I will do everything in my power to stop the coup. I swear it."
His voice was fervent, each word forged with the intensity of a warrior pledging to fight until the last breath.
Outside, perched on a distant rooftop, Gojo watched through narrowed eyes, his heart a mix of emotions swirling within him like a tempest.
His arms were folded, and his gaze was sharp and unreadable, the piercing golden color of his Sharingan contrasting against the dim light around him.
Tch. Look at that… what a scheming bastard, he thought internally, feeling a bitter disdain bubble within him.
From this distance, Gojo could not discern their exact words.
But he did not need to; he observed the soft smile forming on Hiruzen's lips—a false warmth that belied the subtle undercurrents coursing through the air.
The gentle hand Hiruzen placed on Shisui's shoulder was a gesture of paternal concern, but Gojo could see beyond it.
He's fooling him. Just like everyone else. This is why I call him a dog.
A smirk crept onto Gojo's face as he noted how the old man wagged his tail for anyone he could control.
And this idiot Shisui? He's rolling over like a pet hoping for a bone.
Inside the room, Shisui raised his head, determination setting his jaw as he shifted the conversation.
"Lord Hokage… I didn't just come here to speak. I came to show you something," he declared, the urgency in his voice cutting through the tension in the air like a sharpened kunai.
Hiruzen tilted his head, curiosity piqued along with a growing sense of concern.
Without hesitation, Shisui stood straight and opened his eyes wide, revealing the three-ringed pattern of his Mangekyō Sharingan swirling into view, glowing ominously with a brilliant red light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Hiruzen blinked, his pipe clattering softly on the desk, the sound echoing through the air like a tiny bell tolling a warning.
"You… have awakened it?" the Hokage asked, genuine surprise tinging his voice, his expression shifting to one of cautious admiration.
"Yes," Shisui replied, the glow in his eyes radiant and fierce.
"And I have an ability that may help end this conflict without bloodshed."
Hiruzen leaned forward, visibly tense now as he absorbed the implications of Shisui's newfound power.
"What kind of ability…?" he pressed, concern creeping into his weathered features.
Shisui took a deep breath, every inhalation laden with purpose and urgency.
"My Mangekyō technique is called Kotoamatsukami. It allows me to enter the mind of another… and alter their will without them ever realizing it."
Hiruzen's entire body went still, the weight of Shisui's revelation settling over the room like a heavy fog.
The color drained slightly from his cheeks, and beads of sweat began to form on the back of his neck, creeping down like traitorous whispers of doubt.
Change the will… without them knowing? Even mine?
The question struck him like a kunai to the spine, piercing through his calm facade.
For all his calm demeanor, the Third Hokage was not foolish.
He was not naïve.
He understood the dangerous implications of such power.
A shinobi with such an ability… could easily become a king behind the scenes.
Gojo's eyes sharpened from afar, sensing the subtle shift in Hiruzen's body language.
There it is… the moment when fear creeps into his heart. He knows the stakes.
"I plan to use this technique on Fugaku Uchiha," Shisui continued, completely unaware of the changing tide beneath him.
"If I can change his mind… I can stop the coup before it begins."
Hiruzen forced a weak smile, though it faltered under the weight of uncertainty.
"You… would do this for the village?" he asked, his voice strained as he tried to mask the turmoil brewing inside.
Shisui nodded earnestly, determination gleaming in his eyes.
"Everything for Konoha. That is my nindō."
Hiruzen said nothing, but inside, his thoughts were spiraling like leaves caught in a tempest.
A power like that cannot be left unchecked. What if… what if he one day uses it on me? Or Danzo? Or the Daimyō?
He dabbed his forehead with a cloth, wiping away the perspiration accumulating at his temple.
Outside, Gojo leaned back against a beam, his heart pounding in his chest with a mix of trepidation and irritation.
He let out a tired sigh, his breath a whisper carried away by the gentle breeze.
What a fool… Shisui just dug his own grave.
He could almost taste the betrayal about to unfold.
It was sweet.
Poetic.
He tried to strip me of my will. If I had no value to the system, I would've killed him already. I'm no Naruto—I don't forgive people who stab me in the back. I tear out the knife… and their heart with it.
Inside the Hokage's office, Hiruzen adjusted his robes, discomfort visibly mounting, and stood.
"Wait here, Shisui. This matter is… very serious. I must summon the elders. We'll need to discuss this."
He gestured toward a masked ANBU who stepped forward silently from the corner of the room, moving like a shadow against the light.
"Send word to Danzo, Homura, and Koharu. Have them come to my office immediately. Tell them it's urgent."
The ANBU nodded, vanishing in a flicker that left no trace, like a whisper lost in the rustle of leaves.
Shisui, still unaware of the brewing storm that surrounded him, nodded solemnly.
"Yes. This matter must be handled with caution," he replied, the weight of his words hovering in the air like a promise yet to be fulfilled.
Gojo's eyes narrowed as he observed the scene unfold.
You're not going to walk away from that room alive, Shisui.
The words echoed in his mind like a distant thunderclap announcing a fierce coming rain.
That old man just signed your death sentence.
He stood, arms still folded, his expression unreadable as shadows played across his features, hiding his true intentions.
There was no rage in his heart.
Only cold satisfaction.
Let me see your face, Shisui. When you realize you've been betrayed… that no matter how loyal you were, you were still seen as a threat.
The thought churned in his gut, dark as the gathering clouds above.
The clock was ticking, each second resonating in the silence around him, a countdown to the inevitable moment when the first blade would draw blood.
As the clouds shifted overhead, casting deep, long shadows across the Hokage Tower, Gojo could almost feel the weight of betrayal pressing heavy on the figures inside.
The atmosphere felt charged, ripe with tension, every nerve ending vibrating in anticipation of what was to come.
Blood will soon stain the leaves once more, he thought, the imagery hauntingly beautiful and disturbingly poetic—a true reflection of the events that were about to unfold.
And with one last glance at the office, he turned away, melting into the shadows of the village as if he were the very darkness that cloaked the land, resolved to wait for the chaos to erupt in its full glory.
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Chapter End.
To be continued... (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
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