Meanwhile, the underground corridors of Konoha breathed darkness. These tunnels had been built long ago, based on the designs of the Second Hokage—obsessed with protection and secrecy. Few even knew they existed. Fewer still used them.
The torch in Hiruzen's hand cast flickering shadows on the stone walls.
Fugaku walked beside him, cradling the baby tightly against his chest. The child slept peacefully, warm and defenseless, unaware that his life had already become part of something far greater.
Everything above was now behind them. The village. The crowd. The executioner. The blood on the platform.
Down here—another level of the game was beginning.
"You handled the crowd well," Hiruzen said quietly, with a note of approval. Their footsteps echoed hollowly off the walls. The old man's voice held a contemplative tone. "If I'd known you had such rhetorical skill during the war, I might've put you on stage in front of our armies, to lift morale."
Fugaku didn't even glance at him. He just gave a short huff, brushing aside the compliment like a stray leaf:
"The Hokage leads the people. The police captain leads his officers. Or are you suggesting I trade in my flak jacket for your hat?"
"Tempting offer," Hiruzen chuckled, though his voice carried a faint weariness—like a man who had returned to the same burden too many times. "But I'll pass. Right now, Konoha needs stability. I'll resume the post of Third until the wound from losing Minato starts to close."
Fugaku didn't reply, but his silence held approval. A wise decision. Time heals, but it doesn't tolerate sudden change. Minato hadn't just been a Hokage—he was a symbol, a legend, the golden boy whose kindness, genius, and courage had stunned the world. His death had been a punch to the gut—turning him, in an instant, from man to martyr.
Fugaku understood that. Too well. In his past life, it had been the same with Kennedy. Young, charming, charismatic. And assassinated without warning. When a symbol dies, the crowd doesn't look for a new one—they cling to the ghost of the one they lost like a lifeline. Whoever comes next won't be forgiven—no matter who they are.
Fugaku had learned that lesson. He wasn't about to repeat it.
"Today's spectacle stopped a tsunami," Hiruzen went on. "But the waves will keep pounding the shore. The common shinobi—they'll believe. But the clan heads… they're not so naive. They have archives, records, generational memory. They remember the time before Konoha. You can't sell them a fairy tale that a boy like Obito awakened the Mangekyō."
"Rubbish," Fugaku cut in sharply. "Even the Uchiha themselves don't know how the Mangekyō is awakened. Just rumors, assumptions, and ritual fairy tales. That ridiculous theory is still floating around—that you have to kill your best friend."
He grimaced, as if he'd tasted something bitter.
"You'd think we live in a civilized world. But the thinking is still that of savages in the woods. Blood, sacrifice, curses… We are not shamans. We are shinobi. Legends like these won't take us far."
Hiruzen chuckled—not mockingly, but with a touch of relief.
"I'm glad to hear that from the leader of the Uchiha clan," he said, glancing sideways to catch his companion's gaze.
Fugaku met his eyes with cold severity. The look said neither "thank you" nor "I'm honored." It was a warning: Don't test my patience.
"I mean," Hiruzen corrected himself gently, "I trust you'll pass that rational thinking on to the rest of your clan."
At that moment, the corridor ended.
They emerged before a massive, grim-looking door set directly into the stone. Intricate fūinjutsu script coiled over it—like living silver, flowing through ancient grooves. The symbols pulsed with a soft glow.
In theory, the chamber beyond could hold the Kyūbi. For a minute, maybe less.
"I hope you understand I can't let you interrogate the Kyūbi alone," Hiruzen said calmly, reaching for the seal. His fingers brushed across the complex weave, and the glowing symbols began to dim, one by one.
"You don't trust me," Fugaku said. Not accusingly—just stating a fact.
"I'm being cautious," Hiruzen clarified. "Who knows what the Kyūbi might say."
"Or what I might not report back to you," Fugaku snorted. "So who's coming with me? Kakashi?"
A faint smirk tugged at Hiruzen's lips.
"I must admit, I was surprised you let him keep the Sharingan. I thought you were against giving away clan gifts to outsiders."
"Only when they annoy me," Fugaku said coldly.
"You used to be more restrained," Hiruzen offered with mild reproach.
"We rarely spoke," Fugaku replied, pinning him with a hard stare. "I'm a fighter. I always know when it's time to strike."
Hiruzen sighed—heavy, weary, like someone who felt the age of the entire village on his shoulders.
"So many people in Konoha… and so little time to truly know them all."
He paused for a moment, then continued, more to the point:
"No, it won't be Kakashi. He has only one Sharingan—and I'm not sure that's enough to penetrate the seal's layers. For this task, we need a real Uchiha."
Fugaku sneered faintly, turned, and looked into the shadow beyond the bend.
"Then show your trusted face. Stop hiding. Come out. I spotted you back at the last corner."
A boy stepped forward from the shadows, seemingly reluctant. Lean, sharp-featured, dressed in black shorts and a simple T-shirt bearing the Uchiha crest. His dark hair was pulled back loosely with a Konoha forehead protector. His face was serious, as if he wore responsibility like a second skin.
"What gave me away, Fugaku-sama?" he asked politely, but with spark.
"You're still too young to understand how real shadows behave," Fugaku replied with a casual glance. Then he looked at Hiruzen—hard, disapproving. "He's a child. What is he—six?"
"Nine," Hiruzen corrected calmly. "Uchiha Shisui is already a chūnin. Trusted with leading a squad. Not many adult shinobi can say the same."
Fugaku frowned. His fingers involuntarily tightened around Naruto's tiny shoulder—just slightly more than necessary. Nine. Nine years old and already on the front lines. Already breathing death. Already being used in political games. And that was considered normal.
"An interrogation like this could bring up all kinds of truths," Fugaku said, his words deliberately careful. "Shisui will learn the truth about the Kyūbi incident."
"He already knows," Hiruzen shot back, now with clear conviction in his voice. "He distinguished himself in the war. I've seen the fire of will in him—pure, bright, like in his ancestor, Uchiha Kagami."
For a moment, the old man froze. Nostalgia flickered in his eyes—the shadow of another boy, from another time. Kagami, the only Uchiha Tobirama had ever trusted. Kagami, in whom Hiruzen had placed his own hopes.
Shisui took a step forward, about to speak—but catching Fugaku's gaze, he wisely stayed silent. A child, but no fool.
"Tobirama trusted Kagami. I trust Shisui," Hiruzen said with such force that the walls echoed his words. "In a few years, I intend to bring him into the ANBU. For now, he will be the bridge between us."
Fugaku gave a slow nod. Not agreement. Not refusal. Just the kind of acceptance one gives to an unwanted gift that can't be thrown away.
"As you wish," he said, turning to the boy. "You're coming with me. During the interrogation—you say nothing. Not a sound. Not a gesture. Not even a glance. Understood?"
"Yes, Fugaku-sama!" Shisui replied crisply.
There was no fear in his voice. Only respect. And a faint glimmer of defiance. A look that said: I can handle it. Even if you don't believe in me.
With a deep, echoing rumble, the massive door opened. A wave of stale air rushed out. Beyond it lay a vast, damp chamber—stone walls slick with moisture. At the center stood an altar, smooth as glass. That's where Naruto was placed.
Fugaku and Shisui took positions on either side. Their eyes flared to life—Sharingan spinning with synchronized tomoe. With a simultaneous burst of chakra, they pierced the infant's protective seal—it offered no resistance. A moment later, their consciousness slipped inside.
They found themselves ankle-deep in murky water. The darkness was total, but the Sharingan could see. The air reeked of rot and damp rust. Around them stretched concrete walls, forming a maze with no end in sight. The Kyūbi's seal space resembled a colossal sewer.
"Unexpected bath," Shisui quipped, channeling chakra to his feet and stepping lightly onto the water's surface. His sandals soaked immediately. "If I'd known we'd be walking on water, I would've worn boots. They needed a wash anyway."
Fugaku cast a glance his way—heavy as a stone slab.
"You like to joke?" he asked coldly, stepping onto the water without leaving ripples.
"My mom says humor makes you live longer," Shisui replied with exaggerated solemnity.
"Then she must be from the Uzumaki clan," Fugaku muttered, moving forward.
"Fugaku-sama, do you know where you're going?" Shisui asked, hurrying after him, careful not to splash.
"Mazes come in many forms," he said, pressing a palm to the wall. "But each one has a rule. One side of the wall is colder—it means we're closer to the center that way."
He turned left without looking back.
"Wow," Shisui breathed, unable to hide his childlike wonder. "Have you really been in a real maze before?"
The answer didn't come right away. Fugaku paused. Memories flashed through his mind: fear-drenched corridors filled with Scarecrow's toxins… frozen dead ends where Freeze had hidden… insane, twisted mirrors leading straight to the Joker.
"Something like that," he muttered, not elaborating.
They moved through the darkness. Only their Sharingan—two crimson stars—lit the way. The water beneath them rippled with every step. Fugaku walked with purpose, guided by the faintest breath of wind. And soon—he found its source.
They entered an enormous chamber. High above, the ceiling disappeared into shadow. The entire front wall was a giant cage. Behind it—something breathed.
Claws, long as spears, gripped the bars. A massive snout covered in crimson fur exhaled gusts so strong that Shisui's hair stirred.
"Right where he belongs," Fugaku said with a smirk. "Behind bars."
"Uchiha!" the demon roared, slamming its claws against the cage. "I HATE YOU!"
A cloud of steam poured through the bars—red as blood. It burned with chakra—wild, searing rage. That hatred held everything: ancient pain, a curse, the fury of a beast in chains.
Instinctively, Shisui recoiled, one hand rising to shield his face. He had never seen anything like this. And for the first time, he felt like just a helpless boy.
But Fugaku didn't move. He stared into the Kyūbi's eyes with icy calm. Once, he had held his hand inside Killer Croc's jaws. Once, he had stood face to face with Man-Bat. Beasts no longer frightened him. Now—he simply breathed. Without fear.
"I don't care what you feel about my clan," Fugaku said coldly once the Kyūbi, spent, finally stilled. "I have questions. You will answer."
"And why would I?" the demon sneered, baring his fangs. "What could you possibly offer me? Unless…" — it cast a pointed glance toward the massive lock on the cage.
"Don't even think about it," Fugaku hissed, and there was so much threat in his voice that the air itself seemed to shudder.
"Then we're done here," the Kyūbi growled and slowly turned away, retreating into the shadows of the cage. "Leave."
"I never expected you to yield after the first word," Fugaku said, rolling up his sleeves. "But there are ways to force out the truth."
He stepped forward.
Something flickered in the demon's eyes. Interest. A predator's curiosity.
"Fugaku-sama, don't!" Shisui cried out, horrified. "That's suicide!"
"We had an agreement," Fugaku snapped, not looking back. "You don't interfere."
And then he stepped through the massive bars. The world held its breath.
The Kyūbi roared—an earthquake of sound—and lunged, its claw crashing down like a falling mountain.
"FOOL!" the demon thundered. "YOU ARE NOTHING! I AM DESTRUCTION!"
Fugaku raised his hand. Small. Human. And—stopped the blow. Held the claw, massive as a tree, as if it weighed no more than a twig. The ground beneath his feet didn't so much as tremble.
The Kyūbi threw its full weight into the strike, snarling, pouring out its chakra. But it couldn't move the Uchiha even an inch.
"How?!" the demon howled, struggling in disbelief. "You can't be stronger! It's not possible!"
"This world doesn't obey normal laws," Fugaku said, lifting his head slowly. His eyes—blood-red Sharingan—bored into the beast's pupils. "Here, victory doesn't belong to strength, but to will."
He stepped forward—and grew. Literally. His body, his presence, his essence expanded with every second. He eclipsed the cage. He loomed larger than the Kyūbi.
"You're a bijuu. A creature made of chakra. But chakra isn't just power. It's experience. It's mind. It's control."
The Kyūbi backed away. And that—was astounding.
"You have power," Fugaku continued, "but you don't know how to wield it. You're no warrior. You're no sage. You're just an angry child."
He stepped again—and the world shook beneath his feet.
"I have defied the impossible! I have fought madness, monsters, fear itself!" His voice boomed like thunder. "I endured, I survived—and I won!"
The Kyūbi retreated into the far corner. It howled, tried to strike again—but its paw trembled.
Fugaku towered above it—a colossus, the embodiment of unbreakable will.
"I need answers. And I will have them. With your consent—or without it."
He clenched his fists. The tension cracked through the mental labyrinth like thunder.
Shisui stood at the bars, both hands over his mouth. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't believe his eyes. One man… was breaking a bijuu.
The Kyūbi howled, resisted—but surrendered. And began to speak. Everything. About that night. Every detail.
///
Consciousness returned. They were once again standing over the altar. Hiruzen blinked.
"That was fast. You weren't gone for even a second," he said, surprised. "Did the Kyūbi refuse to talk?"
"He told us everything," Fugaku replied calmly. "No criminal has ever endured my interrogation."
Hiruzen glanced at Shisui—the boy looked like he'd just survived a war. Slowly, he nodded in confirmation.
"What did you learn?" Hiruzen asked, tension creeping into his voice.
"Seems we weren't too far off, blaming Obito," Fugaku said, folding his arms. "The one who controlled the Kyūbi had only one Sharingan."
Hiruzen tensed.
"And if the Kyūbi's not lying," Fugaku went on, "the man wore an orange mask and was the same height as Obito."
"You think he survived?" Hiruzen asked grimly.
"Or someone's playing us for fools," Fugaku growled through his teeth. "Either way, the site of his 'death' needs to be checked. Personally."
/////
Author notes:
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