"What kind of eyes are these…?" Hyuga Aya murmured, slowly calming her breath as she stared at the young man suspended in a survival capsule—Uchiha Yuchi. His expression was blank, almost lifeless, and yet the aura that radiated from him was suffocating, like a wild beast barely contained.
Unable to resist, Aya activated her Byakugan.
Her vision changed instantly. Yuchi's physical form vanished in her sight, leaving behind only the intricate network of chakra pathways. What shocked her most was the volume of chakra—it was immense, distorted, and potent, enough to make even a seasoned Hyuga waver.
'What… is this?' she thought, a chill creeping down her spine.
"Kaleidoscope Sharingan," Uchiha Kai said coolly, lowering his hand as Yuchi's eyes slowly shut within the capsule.
He hadn't minded showing her a glimpse of their power—he wanted to provoke her thoughts. If he was to gain her cooperation in the future, she needed to understand both the stakes and the potential.
"Mangekyō Sharingan…" Aya repeated under her breath. "It's terrifying… these eyes."
"Of course. It's a heightened form of the Sharingan," Kai said with a faint smile. "But the price to awaken it… is steep. Gaining it often means losing someone precious. But once achieved, even a weak shinobi could—given the right moment—kill a Hokage. Though of course, I mean through assassination, not direct confrontation."
Aya's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So… does the Byakugan have a higher form too?"
That question struck home. Kai smiled again, more subtly this time.
"It would make sense," he said. "In the Warring States period, the Hyuga were said to rival both the Uchiha and the Senju. And yet today… why do we only hear of the cage bird seal and the split between main and branch families? Perhaps that very potential was what they feared emerging in the branch line."
Aya was silent, processing the implications. If the Byakugan had a dormant evolution—something akin to the Mangekyō—could it be the key to freedom for the branch family?
She was beginning to understand Kai's angle. He was planting seeds of doubt—and ambition.
"But…" she looked at him warily, "didn't you say that even someone weak could use the Mangekyō to kill a Hokage? Then why are you still fine? Shouldn't that kind of power affect you?"
Kai chuckled, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, the familiar tomoe of the Sharingan had merged into a three-pointed pattern—black triangles swirling like pinwheels in blood-red eyes.
Aya instinctively took a step back.
In a dim room within the Uchiha compound, Fugaku sat across from his young son. The candles flickered between them, casting long shadows.
"I heard you sought out Kai," Fugaku said, eyes narrowing.
"Yes, Father," Itachi answered calmly, though tension lingered in his posture. "You once said he would be my instructor, so I went to him to ask questions."
Fugaku's brows drew together. He had heard that Itachi and Kai had spent nearly five minutes alone in the forest. That was more than enough time for a Mangekyō user to plant a genjutsu—or worse.
Back then, Kai had even countered his illusion. Fugaku hadn't forgotten that moment of humiliation.
"What did you speak about?"
"I asked him… what he thought about war," Itachi replied quietly. "As someone considered a war hero."
Fugaku blinked, momentarily taken aback. That question was… mature. Too mature.
"And how did he answer?"
"He said…" Itachi hesitated. "That war is never isolated. It is the continuation of politics by other means."
Fugaku's fingers tightened. He'd heard that phrase before—in the archives, in old reports. It wasn't something a child should understand, yet Kei had said it. And worse—meant it.
'Just how far ahead is this boy thinking?'
"And what do you think of that answer?"
"I don't know yet," Itachi admitted. "And he said… he doesn't acknowledge me. Not now."
Fugaku nodded solemnly. "That's understandable. You're still young. But listen, Itachi—don't speak of what Kai told you. Not to Shisui, not to anyone."
Itachi opened his mouth but thought better of it. "Yes, Father."
Fugaku's eyes narrowed briefly. He didn't distrust Shisui outright—he was the grandson of the peace-oriented Third Elder—but Shisui's idealism might clash with Kei's realism. And Fugaku could not afford divided loyalties within the clan.
Just then, a knock echoed at the door.
Fugaku turned. "Come in."
A black-clad shinobi entered and knelt immediately, his face grim.
"Patriarch Fugaku," he said, bowing his head low. "I have made a grave error. I request death to preserve the integrity of the plan."
Fugaku's eyes widened slightly. "Zong? You were meant to be on assignment. What happened?"
This was no ordinary subordinate. Zong was one of sixteen loyal shadows, trained from boyhood to serve Fugaku's will. If he was here, breaking protocol, it meant something serious had occurred.
The day, already full of unease, had just taken another turn…