Jin's bold denial echoed through the Naka Shrine, leaving the assembly paralyzed with disbelief.
No one had anticipated this move. In the shinobi world, and especially among the Uchiha, actions spoke louder than words. Everyone 'knew' the Radicals had executed the strike—it was a logical certainty. But Jin had weaponized a simple, undeniable fact: knowing the truth and proving the truth were two different things.
The Uchiha were warriors, conditioned for direct confrontation and battlefield tactics. They were entirely unequipped for political stonewalling.
Shisui's face flushed with frustration. He slammed a hand onto the tatami mat. "Uchiha Jin! Do you lack the honor to admit your own actions?"
Jin shrugged, his expression perfectly calm. "If I had done it, I would claim the glory. But I didn't. Why should I confess to a crime I didn't commit? Are you planning to torture a confession out of your own clan's Elder?"
He paused, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips. "How about this? I'll swear a vow. If the Radical Faction ordered the execution of those Root squads, may the Sage of Six Paths strike me down with lightning right now."
Dead silence fell over the shrine.
The audacity of the statement shattered the Moderates' strategy. They had planned to pressure Jin into surrendering his men, anticipating a fiery argument about clan honor versus village safety. They had not prepared for absolute, brazen denial.
'What now?' The Moderates and Neutrals exchanged helpless glances. The debate had hit a brick wall.
Even the Radical operatives behind Jin were momentarily stunned, their eyes twitching as they fought to maintain a neutral expression. 'He's lying straight to their faces,' they thought, a mixture of awe and amusement settling in.
Jin waited a few seconds, looking up at the ceiling. "Well, you all see it. The Sage hasn't struck me down. The heavens have proven my innocence."
His internal monologue was cold and analytical. He knew the Sage of Six Paths was a historical figure—essentially a powerful alien entity—not an omnipotent god governing morality. To an educated mind from a modern world, this kind of superstitious swearing was a cheap, effective psychological trick against individuals who based their entire worldview on myth and rigid honor codes. If he couldn't outmaneuver political amateurs like Fugaku and Shisui in a simple debate, he would deserve to die in the impending massacre.
"Jin, you..." Shisui gritted his teeth, completely at a loss for words. His rigid moral compass could not process such blatant manipulation.
Fugaku, realizing the meeting was slipping from his control, stood up. His face was stern, but his eyes carried a heavy, complicated weight.
"Jin, please stop this," Fugaku pleaded, his voice dropping an octave to appeal to emotion. "I know our people have suffered injustices. I know the village surveillance is harsh. But Shisui and I are trying to fix this from the inside. Please, just give me more time."
Beneath the plea, however, Jin's Mangekyou-enhanced perception caught a fleeting, dark shift in Fugaku's gaze—a flash of genuine killing intent.
Jin understood Fugaku's logic perfectly. Fugaku believed that full submission was the only way to avoid annihilation by the village. He couldn't comprehend why his clan refused to quietly endure the abuse until Konoha finally accepted them. Before Jin awakened his Mangekyou, the Radicals were loud but manageable. Now, with a Mangekyou wielder leading them, the Radicals were an existential threat to Fugaku's strategy of total appeasement. To Fugaku, an uncontrollable genius was worse than an enemy.
Jin met Fugaku's gaze without flinching.
"My apologies, Clan Head," Jin replied, his tone devoid of respect. "I offer my condolences for the loss of the Root and Anbu operatives. But if you intend to pin their deaths on me, I strongly suggest you find actual evidence first. If there is no further official business, I will take my leave."
He turned and walked toward the exit of the shrine. He felt no need to explain himself or attempt to unite the clan. Prejudices were mountains; they could not be moved with words. The Uchiha's survival required a fundamental purge. Only through extreme crisis and significant bloodletting could the clan be rebuilt. The opportunity for that was approaching rapidly.
As Jin exited, the entire Radical Faction rose as one and followed him out. The message was absolute: Fugaku held the title, but Jin held the power.
"Jin, wait!" Shisui called out, stepping forward.
"Enough, Shisui," Fugaku ordered, raising a hand. "Let them go. Forcing them to stay will only trigger a civil war right here." Fugaku sighed, rubbing his temples. "Tell me the truth about the battlefield. Is there truly no evidence?"
Shisui hesitated. As an Anbu, he was forbidden from sharing operational intelligence, even with his Clan Head. But the situation demanded transparency. "The site was obliterated," Shisui admitted grimly. "Every body was reduced to ash. There is absolutely zero physical evidence. However, circumstantial logic dictates it was Jin. The timing is undeniable."
Fugaku nodded slowly, the bitter reality settling in. It was a known pattern: whenever an Uchiha operative mysteriously 'disappeared'—a quiet kidnapping by Root—Root operatives would immediately turn up dead. Jin was systematically hunting Danzo's men in retaliation.
"I cannot resolve this internally without proof," Fugaku finally decided. "Shisui, report the situation exactly as it is to the Third Hokage."
"Understood," Shisui replied softly. With a flicker of the Body Flicker Technique, he vanished from the shrine.
Fugaku formally dismissed the remaining clan members and returned to his private residence.
It was a stark, depressing conclusion. Throughout the entire meeting, neither the Clan Head nor the Anbu prodigy had mentioned seeking justice for the Uchiha members who had been abducted by Root in the first place. This glaring omission was precisely why Fugaku had lost the clan's faith.
Inside the Clan Head's estate, Uchiha Mikoto handed her husband a cup of hot tea. "Did the meeting go well? Did the Radicals concede?"
"No. It's worse," Fugaku replied, taking the cup. "Jin has officially taken command of the faction. They now have a Mangekyou user leading them."
Mikoto frowned slightly. "How will you explain this to the village leadership?"
Fugaku took a slow sip of tea, his eyes narrowing. "I won't. We will step back and observe. Let the Third Hokage and Jin destroy each other. It's the perfect test to see how far the village is willing to push us. If Konoha eliminates Jin, the Radicals lose their leader, and I regain control. If Konoha backs down out of fear of his power, the clan benefits. Either way, my position remains secure."
Mikoto remained silent. She understood the cold, political calculus—her husband was using a fellow clansman as a disposable pawn to gauge the village's political boundaries. While uncomfortable, she accepted it as the necessary burden of leadership.
However, neither of them noticed the slight shadow cast just outside the sliding paper door of the tearoom.
Uchiha Itachi stood silently in the dark hallway, his small fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He had heard everything.
'The clan. Always the clan,' Itachi thought, his young mind recoiling in disgust at his father's manipulative logic. 'Why can't they view the world through the lens of the village? They are a foolish, selfish clan.'