UCHIHA KING OF THE SOULS

In the sunlit living room, Uchiha Mikoto knelt on the tatami mat, gently guiding a toddler-aged Uchiha Sasuke's hands as he clumsily stacked wooden blocks. Nearby, a young Uchiha Itachi, already preternaturally skilled, practiced delicate shuriken throws at a cloth target pinned to the wooden frame of the veranda.

When Mikoto heard Uchiha Fugaku's rare laughter and uncharacteristically lighthearted words from the reception room, she instinctively turned to her eldest son. Their gazes met, mirroring the same quiet astonishment.

To them, Fugaku was an embodiment of the Uchiha's rigid ideals—dignified, methodical, a man who rarely allowed sentiment to surface. His approval was earned, not given, and he carried the weight of his clan with a severity that brooked little warmth.

So what exactly had transpired to elicit such an unguarded response?

In the reception room, Uchiha Gen maintained a composed smile, though inwardly, he found Fugaku's reaction mildly perplexing. Had his words truly caused such a shift in the normally impassive clan head?

Then again, Konoha—and the shinobi world at large—lacked any structured political or historical education. The village produced elite warriors, not strategists. That oversight, in turn, allowed the self-taught manipulators within Konoha's upper echelons to control the narrative while keeping the masses ignorant.

Gen, possessing a mind sharpened by knowledge from his past life, understood the significance of history: "To study the past is to foresee the future." No wonder so many skilled shinobi fell prey to the machinations of bureaucrats who never set foot on a battlefield.

Why, then, was there no formalized history of the shinobi world? Why were only a handful of scholars privy to fragmented records of the past?

Could it be the unseen hand of Black Zetsu, subtly erasing and reshaping history to serve an agenda spanning millennia?

"Young Patriarch, I have a question," Gen finally prompted, returning to the matter at hand.

Fugaku, having recovered from his momentary lapse, refocused.

"Minato Jonin may leverage Kakashi's Sharingan to build goodwill, but what of Lord Orochimaru?" he inquired, his expression once again measured. "We cannot expect to forge alliances on sentiment alone."

Empty alliances held no value; relationships without tangible benefits crumbled under scrutiny.

"Young Patriarch, rest assured—I've already identified an opening," Gen replied smoothly.

"From my intelligence gathered on the Kumogakure front, it's clear that Lord Orochimaru harbors an insatiable obsession with the study of ninjutsu. Research of that caliber demands immense resources—something the Uchiha possess in abundance. We can exploit this as leverage."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone even but pointed.

"For instance, we could offer financial backing under the guise of an apprenticeship, having him take in an Uchiha as a disciple. In doing so, we establish a direct line of influence. If Minato rises to power, we have ties through Kakashi. If Orochimaru ascends, we have an insider within his ranks. Regardless of the outcome, the Uchiha secure their standing."

Fugaku steepled his fingers, contemplative. The Uchiha, after all, were not mere warriors—they were an ancient and noble clan recognized even by the Daimyō of the Land of Fire. Unlike lesser clans, their influence extended beyond Konoha's gates.

The Hyūga held similar status, but few others could claim such recognition.

Yet the fatal flaw of the Uchiha lay in their temperament.

Those who had yet to awaken their Sharingan remained pragmatic, but those who did…

Arrogance.

Condescension.

A self-assured superiority that often blinded them to the broader political landscape.

Best-case scenario, they were like Sasuke in his early years—haughty yet still fundamentally kind. Worst-case scenario? They became entrenched in their pride, deaf to reason. A clan of prodigies, yet too few who understood how to wield power beyond the battlefield.

Fugaku exhaled before offering a rare smile.

"Hah. Very good. Very good, indeed."

Back in the living room, Mikoto and Itachi exchanged glances before turning their attention toward the reception room.

Neither had ever heard Fugaku sound so approving.

Later that evening, after Gen had left, Mikoto—unable to suppress her curiosity—broached the subject. Normally, she refrained from meddling in clan affairs, preferring to focus on her household, but Fugaku's demeanor that afternoon had been too uncharacteristic to ignore.

With no reason to withhold the details, Fugaku relayed the conversation.

Mikoto's eyes glimmered with something close to awe.

"A thirteen-year-old thought of all this?" she murmured. "He's truly gifted in both intellect and combat…"

From that night forward, both she and Fugaku began mentioning Uchiha Gen frequently in Itachi's presence.

"Learn from Gen," they would say.

Over time, Gen's name became synonymous with talent in the young Itachi's mind—an unreachable standard, an almost mythical presence to aspire toward.

…

Determined to set Gen's plan in motion, Fugaku penned a letter to his father, who was currently leading forces on the Kirigakure front.

The reply was swift.

The Uchiha Patriarch not only approved of Gen's strategy but instructed Fugaku to personally oversee his training. Additionally, he arranged for Uchiha Shisui's return to Konoha.

A contingency measure.

If Gen's plan faltered, Shisui would assume the role in his stead. The Uchiha could not afford to gamble on a single outcome.

Upon Shisui's return, Fugaku took the next calculated step—he had Mikoto extend an invitation to Uzumaki Kushina.

Mikoto and Kushina shared a genuine friendship, cultivated over years, making this request neither suspicious nor easily declined.

As expected, Namikaze Minato, ever the gentleman, accepted the dinner invitation.

When the evening arrived, Fugaku shed his usual stern demeanor, adopting a disarmingly genial tone with the Hokage candidate.

It was an unspoken truth in the shinobi world—respect was dictated by strength. Minato was not just a rising political figure; he was a shinobi whose speed surpassed all others.

In battle, Fugaku was formidable. But against Minato? Even the Uchiha head had no delusions.

So he played his role.

Gone was the imposing clan leader, replaced by a man of pleasant discourse.

Because that was the reality of power—one's demeanor shifted depending on the audience.

Anyone who claimed otherwise was either a fool or a liar.

As Mikoto and Itachi strolled through the gardens with Kushina, Fugaku led Minato into the reception room for tea.

It was there, amid quiet sips of green tea, that the true discussion began.

Unbeknownst to them, Minato had come with his own agenda.

Kakashi's newly acquired Sharingan was a topic that could not be ignored.

And so, for the first time, the Uchiha and Konoha's future Hokage found themselves aligned in their goals.

But whether the results would favor the Uchiha…

Remained to be seen.