Buzz—
Not long after Uchiha Fugaku departed, two figures emerged from a swirling vortex.
One of them had pale, ashen green hair, yellow eyes unbefitting a human, and abnormally pale skin—clearly a White Zetsu.
The other figure wore a black cloak patterned with red clouds, a spiral-patterned mask covering his face—none other than Uchiha Obito.
"This is where that White Zetsu disappeared!"
As they stepped out, White Zetsu spoke.
The reason he acted alongside Uchiha Obito was because he could sense the presence of other White Zetsu and could precisely locate the one who had discovered the impostor impersonating Obito.
However, just before they arrived, his connection with the White Zetsu who had identified the impersonator was abruptly cut off.
The White Zetsu had either been isolated in a way that severed their link—or had been killed.
"Looks like he was discovered and killed."
Obito frowned, scanning the area. There was no sign of a White Zetsu corpse—but he did find the bodies of Shimura Daisuke and his men.
He stepped forward, crouching down to examine their wounds.
"Wood Release: Cutting Technique..."
The more he examined, the darker his expression grew beneath the mask—so dark it could drip with malice.
Most of the injuries had clearly been caused by the Wood Release: Cutting Technique. Once again, the impersonator had framed him. These people's deaths would surely be blamed on him.
Though Obito didn't care about being hated by Konoha, being so openly slandered still deeply irritated him.
"I'd like to see who dares impersonate me."
His voice turned cold, and the single visible eye morphed into a Mangekyō Sharingan.
With its powerful perception, even the faintest traces were magnified dozens of times over.
A different field of vision unfolded before him—on tree trunks and rocks, previously invisible footprints became clear.
Following the trail, Obito tried to pursue the impostor.
But moments later, he stopped. The expression beneath his mask twisted in frustration.
"There's no exit trail!"
None of the footprints he had found showed any sign of retreat or movement away from the area.
The impostor had left not a single trace behind—nothing to track.
"I didn't find anything either," White Zetsu shook his head.
It was as if the person had completely vanished. Not even the smallest clue remained.
If White Zetsu had used his own Mayfly Technique, he could achieve such a clean escape—which made him wonder whether the impostor had somehow mastered it too.
But that shouldn't be possible. The Mayfly Technique was a kekkei genkai. Without the specific bloodline, it couldn't be used.
"Hmph. You better hope I don't catch you."
With the trail gone cold, lingering here was pointless—and they couldn't afford to stay away from Kirigakure too long.
Obito snorted coldly, and a vortex swirled open before him. He stepped into it and vanished.
"..."
The White Zetsu who came with him was left standing there, dumbfounded.
Obito had forgotten him. He'd just left him behind!
Using the Mayfly Technique to travel quickly, Uchiha Fugaku returned to Konoha.
His Shadow Clone was still holding down the fort at the Konoha Military Police Force, so he entered the station.
"Captain, you're back!"
Uchiha Yakumi, who had been covering for the clone, let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the real Fugaku return.
"Mm."
After dispelling the Shadow Clone, Fugaku gained its memories of the past few hours.
It had handled a few security cases and eaten lunch in the office—mundane affairs, nothing out of the ordinary.
"Captain, did it go well?"
Knowing why Fugaku had left earlier, Yakumi asked in a hushed voice.
"It's taken care of. Once Shimura Daisuke's body is retrieved and buried, deal with it accordingly."
Fugaku issued his orders.
"It's done, then…"
Yakumi showed a flicker of relief and nodded.
"I've got it."
As dusk settled in, Fugaku left the police station and returned home.
"Fugaku!"
"Father!"
Upon arriving, he was warmly greeted by Uchiha Mikoto and Uchiha Sasuke.
"Mm."
Fugaku acknowledged them with a small smile.
But just then, another voice called out—
"Father."
The speaker was a black-haired young man with his hair tied behind him—Uchiha Itachi.
His expression was cold, and his voice stiff.
"You're back, Itachi."
A wave of instinctive disgust rose in Fugaku's heart.
A completely brainwashed white-eyed wolf, deluded into believing he was serving some noble ideal by pursuing peace for the village—when in truth, he was nothing more than a tool of the Third Hokage's bloody schemes.
Even so, Fugaku merely nodded.
It wasn't yet time to tear off the facade—not until Shisui died and the emotional blow forced Itachi to awaken his Mangekyō Sharingan.
Fugaku entered his study, but before long, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in."
He frowned slightly—he already knew who it was.
The door opened, and Uchiha Itachi stepped inside.
Facing his father, Itachi hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Father, Shisui's right eye has gone completely blind. Not even Lady Tsunade can heal it."
"She recommended replacing the eye. For compatibility, she suggested transplanting another Sharingan. Is there one stored in the clan?"
"..."
Fugaku sneered inwardly.
So they dared come to him for a Sharingan? How bold—clearly the Third Hokage was pulling the strings behind the scenes.
He didn't believe the Hokage lacked Sharingan.
During the three Great Ninja Wars, many Uchiha corpses went missing—not all stolen by enemies. Some were taken by their own allies.
Both the Third Hokage and Danzo surely had several Sharingan in their possession.
But, of course, they couldn't use those eyes openly—so they had to come groveling to the Uchiha clan head.
"There are no stored Sharingan within the clan. I'll keep an eye out—if a clansman dies in battle, I'll ask their family for permission. If granted, I'll have the eye transplanted."
Naturally, he had no intention of handing over a Sharingan to aid the enemy. Claiming the clan had no spares was his way of deflecting the request.
"I understand. I'll pass that along to Shisui."
Itachi could tell his father was making excuses. He had no intention of helping Shisui.
That his father could be so heartless to someone like Shisui ignited a burning anger within him.
But he repressed it. Losing his temper wouldn't help—it would only bring sorrow to his mother and Sasuke.
"Father, I'll be going."
He stood, turned, and left the study.
His fists clenched tightly, veins bulging on his arms as he struggled to contain his fury.
"Itachi, where are you going? Dinner's almost ready."
"I'm heading to see Shisui. Don't wait for me."
Outside, the voices of Mikoto and Itachi exchanged words.
With that, Uchiha Itachi grew more and more distant down the road.