Chương 149: Trapped at Every Turn

As a village within a village, the Uchiha enclave rarely saw outsiders under normal circumstances, save for those assigned to joint missions with its shinobi. At a volatile juncture like this, external visitors were practically nonexistent—after all, the Foundation had effectively blockaded the perimeter threshold. Anyone daring to cross would be meticulously logged, their names instantly added to Danzo's blacklist.

Ordinary ninja, desperate to draw a clear line of separation between themselves and the clan, wouldn't dare risk a visit. The Night of the Nine-Tails marked a stark watershed for the Uchiha; if they had been relatively isolated before, they were now completely ostracized. Within the enclave, where every face was familiar, the sudden arrival of an outsider naturally drew scrutiny. While the civilian populace remained largely oblivious to Zhen's identity, the clan's active shinobi recognized him instantly.

Though characterized by a notorious pride and abysmal social graces, these warriors were astute enough to decipher the profound weight of Zhen's presence at such a critical moment. He was, after all, the Savior of the Leaf, occupying a singular position in the village hierarchy—effectively serving as the proxy for the Fourth Hokage. Consequently, every Uchiha shinobi Zhen encountered along the thoroughfares offered a respectful nod, bowing slightly to welcome him.

To elicit such a gesture from this haughty bloodline was an extraordinary feat. More importantly, Zhen's staggering power was an undeniable reality, and the Uchiha traditionally reserved their deepest reverence for those who proved their martial supremacy. The shinobi world was a meritocracy governed strictly by raw power, a law that manifested with brutal clarity within the Uchiha psychology. Without absolute strength, no amount of renowned prestige would earn so much as a passing glance from them.

When Zhen arrived at the main estate, Fugaku received him with immense formality, orchestrating a full family welcome at the threshold. It was a calculated display, designed to demonstrate to watching clansmen that their patriarch could still command external alliances—that the Uchiha were not entirely marooned in isolation.

The clan's administrative structure was remarkably streamlined compared to their ancient peers, the Hyuga; they eschewed the complex divisions of Main and Branch houses, and lacked a formalized council of elders. The few remaining patriarchs of the older generation, deeply dissatisfied with what they perceived as Fugaku's lack of unyielding steel, rarely deigned to speak with him, tracing their absence even from the general assemblies.

Such was the stark transparency of the Uchiha character; the greater their personal might, the less they tolerated bureaucratic maneuvering. Fugaku radiated genuine relief at Zhen's arrival.

"Zhen, your presence here tonight is a monumental favor to my house."

"You overstate the matter, Uncle Fugaku," Zhen replied smoothly. Hearing the youth preserve the familiar honorific, Fugaku's spirits surged higher.

"No, it is the simple truth. Come, let us speak within." Zhen nodded, turning to offer a courteous bow to the graceful woman standing at the patriarch's side.

"Sister Mikoto, thank you for hosting me." Mikoto Uchiha blinked in surprise, instinctively smoothing a hand over her cheek before accepting Zhen's guest offering with a radiant smile.

"My, what an exceptional junior. Please, come inside and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be served shortly." Fugaku's internal celebration ground to a halt. Wait... am I truly that ancient? Reflecting on the timeline, he had to concede the point; he was five years his wife's senior. Once seated at the dining table, Fugaku murmured with a trace of wistfulness, "Had Minato's family been able to join us, the evening would have been complete."

Seated nearby, cradling his infant brother, Itachi dipped his head in silent contrition.

"Forgive me, Father. I failed to secure the presence of the Fourth Hokage." Zhen interjected softly, "Itachi, I imagine the moment you approached Minato's perimeter, sentinels intercepted you."

"They did, Senior Zhen. But why?" Rather than illuminating the child, Zhen turned his gaze directly to the patriarch.

"Uncle Fugaku, under the current climate, extending an invitation to me is the absolute limit of what is prudent. You should not have sought to involve Lord Minato's household—not even through the innocence of a child like Itachi." Fugaku sighed, acknowledging the tactical misstep born of raw desperation.

"My anxiety clouded my judgment." Following dinner, Fugaku escorted Zhen into the privacy of his personal study. Having transferred the infant into his mother's care, Itachi trailed silently behind them bearing a tray of fresh tea, his young eyes alight with a sharp curiosity regarding the impending discourse. Fugaku wove no barriers to restrict his entry.

It it was clear the patriarch held his firstborn in singular regard, having already exposed him to the visceral horrors of international warfare at a tender age, and now deliberately permitting him to audit a high-stakes political conference. The patriarch cut directly to the bone.

"Zhen, the current predicament of my clan is perilous in the extreme." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Given that the Sharingan alone commands the signature frequency to subjugate a Tailed Beast, is it not entirely logical that you face suspicion and alienation?" Zhen replied neutrally.

"But the strike did not originate from within our walls!" Fugaku countered fiercely.

"To subjugate a leviathan like the Nine-Tails, the eye must possess... In short, no living Uchiha commands a reservoir of ocular power that catastrophic. A standard Three-Tomoe Sharingan is fundamentally incapable of the feat." At this stage of history, intelligence regarding the Mangekyo Sharingan remained an exceptionally scarce commodity across the elemental nations; owing to the rigid protocols of shinobi compartmentalization, even the rank-and-file of the clan remained ignorant of its existence.

As it touched upon the ultimate safeguard of his lineage, Fugaku's omission was entirely pragmatic. Zhen harbored no resentment; every house possessed its buried truths, himself included.

"Regrettably, Uncle Fugaku," Zhen murmured, his gaze steady, "the orchestrator of the Nine-Tails' rampage was indeed an Uchiha." Fugaku rejected the claim instantly.

"Impossible. Absolute fantasy. That evening, my forces were restricted entirely to civil evacuation, before Lord Danzo issued a formal mandate confining us to the quarter. I personally verified the roster; every active shinobi of the Uchiha remained inside our perimeter. Lord Danzo and his Foundation sentinels can corroborate this down to the individual." Zhen let out a soft, humorless chuckle.

"Patriarch Fugaku, are you genuinely this naive? To place the vindication of your bloodline in the hands of Danzo Shimura?"

"But the physical reality remains unaltered, Zhen! You, Minato, and Kushina were the sole witnesses to the crucible that night. Tell me, what truly transpired? How did the fox shatter its binding matrix?"

"I maintain my statement: an Uchiha wove the script. I never asserted the perpetrator hailed from this village."

"Then who else could it be? My ancestral registries are absolute; there is no unmonitored Uchiha bloodline roaming the continent."

"Are you entirely certain of that metric? The phantom who shattered the seal explicitly proclaimed himself to be Madara Uchiha."

"What? Madara?" The patriarch went completely rigid, the sheer weight of the name paralyzing his thoughts. Of all the variables he had calculated, the resurgence of that ancient ghost was beyond his wild imaginings.

"But... he perished an eternity ago." Itachi looked up, a sharp focus in his eyes.

"Father, is the Madara Uchiha Senior Zhen speaks of the legendary founder who erected the foundations of the Leaf alongside the First Hokage?"

"The very same. Yet his thread was decisively severed by the First Hokage decades ago at the Valley of the End." Zhen provided a quiet prompt.

"Is it entirely outside the realm of possibility that his demise was a calculated ruse? The world teems with esoteric disciplines engineered to cheat the grave; it is entirely reasonable to assume a titan like Madara commanded such an asset." Fugaku froze as the pieces shifted. The hypothesis was devastatingly plausible. As the keeper of the clan's forbidden scrolls, he was intimately acquainted with their ultimate trump card—the reality-warping genjutsu capable of reversing mortality itself: Izanagi.

"Could it truly be Madara...?"

"On the contrary, neither Lord Minato nor I believe it to be the legend himself; the psychological profile and operational methodology do not align," Zhen countered calmly.

"Yet whether it is the ancient ghost in the flesh or a legacy line he seeded across the continent, the strategic fallout for the Uchiha remains identical. It does nothing to alleviate your predicament." A profound wave of helplessness washed over the patriarch. Zhen's analysis was flawless. Whatever the true identity of the phantom, the bill would ultimately be delivered to the Uchiha. Even if they somehow captured the mastermind and transferred him into the village's custody, it would merely compound their guilt.

If your clan possesses the capacity to track and subdue a monster capable of commanding the Nine-Tails, does that not imply you wield that identical, terrifying supremacy yourselves? Or worse, was this entire catastrophe a carefully orchestrated double-act, proving you were in league from the very inception? The Sharingan's capacity to subjugate a Tailed Beast was their original sin; every countermeasure they deployed would be twisted into an indictment.

They had been systematically maneuvered into a total dead-end, trapped at every turn. Every avenue of escape was seamlessly blockaded. Fugaku's shoulders slumped, thoroughly demoralized. He had anchored his hopes on securing an eyewitness vindication from Zhen, only for reality to deliver a crushing blow. Yet his political instincts revived a moment later. Zhen's willingness to cross the threshold of his estate tonight was itself an explicit declaration of trust.

And if the Savior of the Leaf extended his hand, it meant the Fourth Hokage stood behind that alignment. As for the elder council surrounding the Third? The patriarch had discarded them entirely; they were a bankrupt investment. He leaned forward, his voice dropping.

"How fare Minato and Kushina in their recovery?"

"Uncle Fugaku, that is a boundary you must not cross," Zhen interjected with quiet authority.

"Regardless of the historical intimacy defining your households, absolute political distance must be maintained effective immediately."

"A precise evaluation," Fugaku conceded with a heavy sigh.

"Then tell me, Zhen... what course of action remains for my people?"

"Maintain a low profile, withdraw into hibernation, and bide your time as the board shifts. Whatever the phantom's ultimate objective, they cannot remain in the shadows indefinitely; they will inevitably break cover. As the patriarch of the Uchiha, your primary mandate is not to seek a vindication you cannot secure. Your true priority is to fortify your internal cohesion and ensure the volatile elements within your ranks do not deepen the rift with the administration." Fugaku let out a long, weary breath.

"We have no alternative. It is a profound mercy that you and Minato still extend your trust to my house."

"So long as the Uchiha remain anchored to the defense of the Leaf, you are our compatriots," Zhen stated firmly.

"We do not abandon our allies on the shifting sands of suspicion; the Will of Fire forbids it." Standing silently in the shadows of the study, Itachi's eyes ignited with a brilliant, reverent light. So this is Senior Zhen's interpretation of the Will of Fire. To refuse to abandon a comrade ensnared by adversity—to extend a hand of trust to the Uchiha when the rest of the world demanded their exile, and to meticulously forge a resolution. Such a philosophy was a magnificent thing to behold.