Everyone knew the ninja world had grown increasingly unstable in recent years. Konoha, in particular, had been embroiled in more and more conflicts. The Uchiha clan, too, was expected to shoulder its share of the burden.
There were murmurs among the gathered clan mbers, and many wore expressions of deep concern.
"Right now, the higher-ups of Konoha are placing pressure on the Uchiha. It won’t be long before many of us are deployed to the front lines," said Uchiha Fugaku. His tone was neutral—neither grief nor pride could be discerned from his voice. It was as if the Uchiha were offering troops voluntarily.
"Ahem! Let this old man speak a few words!" one of the elders interrupted, tapping his cane against the ground as he stood. Though frail in appearance, his movents were smooth—a remnant of his days as an active shinobi.
Fugaku nodded and gestured for silence, then took his seat.
"I’m already over sixty this year—the oldest among us. When I was young, I even witnessed the might of Lord Madara with my own eyes." The elder didn’t jump straight to the point. Instead, he began with a recollection.
No one found it dull. In fact, many leaned in curiously—including Saitama. After all, the elder had just invoked the na of Uchiha Madara.
"Konoha was founded by both the First Hokage and Uchiha Madara. Our clan’s contributions are woven into the village’s very foundation. Though our position in the village is complicated, let be clear—we should not harbor resentnt toward Konoha."
The elder’s voice grew firm.
"As the saying goes: ’As long as there are leaves flying, the fire will burn. The fire will illuminate the village and cause new leaves to grow.’"
He paused, turning to survey everyone. Many wore conflicted expressions, but out of respect for the elder, no one spoke out.
"You’ve all heard this phrase, haven’t you?" he asked. "The ’leaves’ symbolize generations. And that ’fire’—that is the pride and spirit of our Uchiha clan!"
The elder’s hands trembled slightly as he gripped his cane.
"Konoha may not always treat us fairly, but it is still our ho. And when your ho is under threat, isn’t it right to stand and defend it?!"
With that, he struck his cane firmly on the floor and took his seat.
Silence filled the courtyard. For many, it was the first ti they’d heard such an interpretation of the Will of Fire. So felt their views on Konoha begin to shift.
Fugaku lowered his head slightly, eyes thoughtful. He understood that due to the clan’s declining influence and the village’s suspicion of them, many among the Uchiha had grown bitter and mistrustful. Policies from the village often carried a dual face—polite on the surface, yet targeting them behind the scenes.
"Old Liu speaks with reason," another elder added. "Our clan’s prestige isn’t built on favors. If we wish to rise again—perhaps to the glory we once had under Lord Madara—we must unite. This war may be an opportunity."
"These old-tirs still make sense," thought Saitama, who had been quietly observing. "Then... how did it all spiral into the coup attempt and the eventual massacre?"
"My opinion is similar to the elders’. This war will bring losses—but also a chance for our clan. What becos of it... will depend on your performance at the front," Fugaku said, with a tone of cautious optimism. The deploynt was already set in stone—no harm in focusing on potential benefits.
Most of the people present were young—twenties or thirties. They had never witnessed the Uchiha clan’s past glory, but that didn’t stop them from imagining themselves as future legends.
Even the quiet Uchiha beside Saitama was breathing heavier now.
Saitama was no exception. His hope was for the Uchiha to coexist peacefully with Konoha—and perhaps, soday, return to the decision-making table. Was that dream impossible? Maybe. But what was life without hope?
And besides, wasn’t striving for unity better than exile... or annihilation?
"You all should have received the deploynt roster. Most here are on the list. Next, I’ll begin assigning you into squads. On the battlefield, stay close to your team whenever possible—unless your commanding officer allows otherwise," said Fugaku with a rare hint of humor. The joke earned a few laughs.
True, the chaos of war made teamwork difficult, but combat was still organized loosely into small units.
"Uchiha! What is it now?" Fugaku asked, seeing the large-frad man raising his hand like an overeager student.
"Patriarch! I requested deploynt to the southern front!" the man bood.
"I denied that request already. Didn’t you notice?" Fugaku replied with a smirk.
"Huh? When?" the man blinked, confused.
"Sit down, fool. You’re embarrassing us," an elder snapped—the youngest of the council.
"I knew it! It was you, old man! It had to be!" the big Uchiha shouted, pointing at the elder.
"Bah!" the elder snorted, looking away to hide his reddened face.
The exchange drew laughter from the crowd. Just a minor interlude, though. Fugaku resud the eting, raising current clan concerns and gathering input from all directions.
Saitama found himself reminded of long-winded school assemblies from his past life—only longer. Shinobi etings had stamina.
"All right, that’s enough for today! Dismissed!" Fugaku eventually declared.
The moon was high in the sky. It was already past eleven when the eting finally adjourned. Saitama stretched his aching back as people began filing out.
"Saitama!" Fugaku called, motioning him over.
"What is it, Captain?" Saitama approached.
"Hello, elders." Four elders remained, standing beside Fugaku. Saitama greeted them respectfully.
"Hello," they replied warmly, without arrogance.
"So you’re Saitama? I’ve heard Zhuang ntion you. Said you’ve already done things he never could. Truly a prodigy," said the old man—Uchiha’s father.
"Hehe..." Saitama chuckled shyly, as expected of a boy his age.
"Well done!" praised Elder Yanagi, clapping Saitama’s shoulder. His flushed cheeks suggested more vigor than one might expect.
"We’ll be off now. Work hard, young man!" The elders smiled and departed.
Before they got far, Uchiha stopped his old man again—clearly still upset. Saitama and Fugaku could sense his unwillingness.
"What do you think of the eting? The clan gathers like this fairly often. The mood today was decent." Fugaku slung an arm around Saitama’s shoulders as they bypassed the quarreling father and son.
"It was all right," Saitama nodded. At least it wasn’t like the Hyūga next door, where the split between Main and Branch families turned every gathering into a silent standoff.
"I’ve decided to assign you a squad captain’s role, treating you as a jonin. Be ready," Fugaku said once they stepped out of the shrine.
He clapped Saitama’s shoulder and turned toward his own ho.
Saitama stayed still for a mont, watching the last few Uchiha fade into the dark streets, an unsettling calm in his young eyes.
Once everyone had gone, Saitama turned and walked ho.
"It’s so late... I wonder if Granny Kaka’s asleep?" the thought crossed his mind.
After so long in this world, his heart had grown heavier with attachnts. These bonds weren’t burdens—they were his motivation. Because in this world, strength was everything.
When Saitama returned ho, he noticed the glow of the television still coming from Granny Kaka’s room. He couldn’t tell if she’d fallen asleep with it on or was still watching. He didn’t disturb her.
He quietly changed shoes in the entryway and went upstairs, careful to close the door softly behind him.
Not long after he went up, the light in Uchiha’s room switched off—as if the occupant had been waiting for Saitama’s return.
The night settled into silence and stillness.
In the days that followed, life resud its routine. Saitama returned to his pre-deploynt rhythm—training with comrades, offering advice, and preparing for war.
Uchiha Sou even ca to challenge him the day before, hoping for a spar. Saitama accepted readily.
And during that sparring match, Uchiha Sou—who looked heavyset and slow—surprised everyone by revealing the high-speed, assassination-style combat he specialized in.
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