Dawn hadn't yet touched Konoha's rooftops when Sasuke found Kakashi on his apartment's balcony, the jonin's visible eye tracking his student's approach with the kind of attention that suggested he'd been expecting this conversation.
"You look like you've been running from something," Kakashi observed, his tone casual despite the tension radiating from Sasuke's chakra signature. "Or toward something. Which is it?"
"Both," Sasuke gasped, collapsing against the railing. His lungs burned from running through the night, his legs trembled from pushing his thirteen-year-old body past comfortable limits, but the urgency driving him allowed no rest. "I found them. The Hidden Uchiha Village. I spoke with them. Learned their story. And Kakashi-sensei—Danzo is preparing to attack them."
Kakashi's posture shifted—subtle change that transformed him from lazy jonin to ANBU operative in the space between heartbeats. "Tell me everything. Quickly."
They moved to a training ground on Konoha's outskirts, far from listening ears and prying eyes. The pre-dawn darkness provided cover, and the early hour meant privacy that Sasuke's information demanded.
He spoke quickly, words tumbling over each other as he explained: the survivors' settlement in the Ghost Lands, their philosophy of preservation over revenge, the community they'd built from ashes and determination. And most crucially, the intelligence about ROOT operatives gathering information for assault.
"They're not threats," Sasuke said, hearing the desperation in his own voice and hating it. "They're just trying to survive. Build lives. Preserve what Konoha tried to destroy. But Danzo doesn't care about that. He sees them as problems needing solutions, threats that need eliminating before they become dangerous."
Kakashi listened with expression that revealed nothing, but Sasuke knew him well enough now to read the micro-tells—the way his visible eye narrowed slightly, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand moved unconsciously toward the kunai pouch he wasn't wearing.
"The Hokage's policy of non-interference was explicit," Kakashi said when Sasuke finished. "If Danzo is preparing independent action against targets the Hokage chose to leave alone, that's not just insubordination. That's ROOT operating as autonomous force, answerable to no one except Danzo himself."
He stood, his movements sharp with decision. "We tell the Hokage. Immediately. Force him to choose between his policy and Danzo's ambition. Whatever happens after that—at least we'll have made the attempt to prevent another massacre."
They moved through Konoha with speed that drew looks from early-morning vendors setting up stalls, but no one questioned a jonin and his student on what was clearly urgent business. The Hokage's office was lit when they arrived—not unexpected, given that Hiruzen Sarutobi often worked through the night, the weight of village leadership allowing little rest.
What was unexpected was finding the office already occupied by emergency council session.
Hiruzen sat behind his desk, looking ancient in ways that went beyond physical age. His advisors—Homura and Koharu—flanked him with expressions suggesting they'd been arguing for hours. And Danzo stood near the window, his single visible eye tracking Sasuke and Kakashi's entrance with attention that made Sasuke's skin crawl.
"Ah, Sasuke-kun," Hiruzen said, his voice carrying weariness that seemed to have deepened overnight. "I understand you've had quite an adventure. Meeting with the Uchiha survivors who revealed themselves to you?"
The fact that Hiruzen already knew suggested either his own intelligence network had been tracking Sasuke, or—more likely—that Danzo had already briefed him with ROOT's version of events.
"They sought me out," Sasuke said, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the way his heart hammered against his ribs. "To give me truth. About the massacre. About what really happened. About why they survived."
"And what truth did they offer?" Danzo asked, his tone carrying dangerous neutrality that suggested he already knew the answer and was testing Sasuke's response.
Sasuke met Danzo's single visible eye, feeling something cold settle in his chest. This was the man who'd killed Shisui. Who'd orchestrated the conditions that led to the massacre. Who represented everything the survivors had fled from.
Choosing his words carefully became vital.
"They told me the massacre was ordered by village leadership to prevent a coup," Sasuke said, watching reactions with his Sharingan active beneath the surface, cataloging every micro-expression. "That Itachi was following orders. That the Uchiha were seen as threats to be eliminated rather than citizens to be protected."
Silence settled over the office, heavy with implications that no one seemed willing to address directly.
Then Hiruzen spoke, his voice carrying resigned honesty that somehow made it worse: "All true."
The casual acknowledgment of ordered genocide hanging in the air made the room feel colder. Sasuke's breath caught despite expecting this—hearing it confirmed in the Hokage's own voice, in front of witnesses, with no attempt to soften or justify beyond simple admission.
"The Uchiha coup was real," Hiruzen continued, his aged hands folding on the desk before him. "The decision to prevent it through elimination was mine, supported by my advisors. It was deemed necessary to prevent civil war that would have destroyed Konoha and invited attack from other villages during our moment of weakness."
"Necessary," Sasuke repeated, the word tasting like poison on his tongue. "Murdering children was necessary? Killing civilians who weren't planning anything except living their lives? That was necessary?"
"Survivors become vengeful adults," Danzo said, his tone suggesting he was explaining basic tactical reality rather than moral horror. "Children remember. Children tell stories, spread resentment, grow into threats motivated by grief we created. The decision to make elimination complete wasn't cruelty—it was strategic calculation based on long-term village security."
The casual discussion of genocide-as-policy made Sasuke's blood run cold. These were the leaders Konoha trusted, the wisdom that guided the village, the people who made decisions affecting thousands of lives. And they discussed murdering his clan like it was pest control, with the same emotional weight someone might give to clearing rats from a storehouse.
"But you decided not to eliminate the survivors in the Ghost Lands," Sasuke said, forcing himself to focus on his goal rather than his rage. "The Hokage's policy has been non-interference. Monitoring but not engaging. They're not threatening Konoha. They're not planning attacks. They're just existing. Building lives far from here."
"For now," Danzo said, and something in his tone suggested he'd been waiting for this opening. "But existence breeds population. Population breeds strength. Strength breeds confidence. Eventually, survivors become threats—motivated by resentment we created, armed with techniques we failed to eliminate, determined to make Konoha answer for what we did. Better to eliminate them now while they're weak and isolated than wait until they've grown strong enough to act on inevitable hatred."
"That's not your decision to make," Kakashi interjected, his voice carrying unusual force that drew attention from everyone in the room. "The Hokage made policy explicit—monitor but don't interfere. If you're preparing independent action against that policy, you're not protecting Konoha. You're operating outside your authority, making decisions that should come from village leadership, not ROOT."
Danzo's expression didn't change, but something in his posture suggested amusement—the kind that came from knowing something others didn't, from having power that official positions couldn't quite capture.
"ROOT exists specifically to do what must be done when Hokage's sentiment interferes with village security," Danzo said, his admission stunning in its baldness. "The Uchiha survivors represent ongoing threat that mercy has allowed to grow. Threat and evidence—evidence that our elimination mission was incomplete, that witnesses exist who could testify to Konoha's actions. I'm simply ensuring both problems are resolved before they become critical."
The statement hung in the air like suspended blade. Danzo was essentially confessing to planning insubordination, to preparing action that directly contradicted Hokage orders, and doing so with confidence that suggested political reality protected him from consequences.
Hiruzen's response revealed the weakness at Konoha's heart more clearly than any tactical analysis could.
Instead of immediate condemnation, instead of removing Danzo from command or disbanding ROOT or taking any action that might have prevented what was coming—he paused. Considered. His expression troubled in ways that suggested internal debate rather than certain judgment.
"Danzo," Hiruzen said slowly, each word carrying weight of decision not yet made, "your concerns aren't entirely without merit. The survivors do represent potential threat. And my decision to leave them alone was based partly on guilt, which isn't always foundation for sound policy."
Sasuke felt his heart sink, his hands clenching so hard that his nails cut into his palms.
"No," the word escaped before he could control it, desperation overwhelming tactical consideration. "No, you can't let this happen. You can't order another massacre. They're not threats—they're families. People trying to survive. Children who've already lost everything. If you do this, if you let Danzo kill them, you're proving everything they believe about Konoha is true."
"What they believe doesn't matter if they're dead," Danzo said flatly, his tone carrying no malice because it carried no emotion at all. "Hokage-sama, I formally request authorization for ROOT operation to eliminate the Hidden Uchiha Village. Surgical strike. Minimal survivors. Complete neutralization of potential threat before it manifests."
The request hung in the air, and everyone in the room understood the moment's weight.
Hiruzen could approve and enable second genocide—accept Danzo's logic and provide official sanction for completing what Itachi had started.
He could deny and force confrontation with Danzo—acknowledge that ROOT had grown beyond his control and take actions that might fracture Konoha's leadership.
Or he could delay and allow political ambiguity to continue—neither approve nor explicitly forbid, letting Danzo act while maintaining plausible deniability.
What he did surprised everyone, including—judging by the subtle shift in his posture—Danzo himself.
"Request denied," Hiruzen said, his voice carrying steel that Sasuke hadn't heard before. "My policy stands. The Uchiha survivors will be monitored but not engaged. They've made no aggressive actions toward Konoha. Built settlement far from our borders. Integrated into regional economy peacefully, even providing protection for merchant routes through dangerous territory. Eliminating them serves no purpose beyond satisfying paranoia and covering evidence of decisions I made and must live with."
Danzo's expression hardened—subtle change, barely noticeable, but his single visible eye revealed displeasure in ways his controlled features didn't.
"You're allowing sentiment to override security," Danzo said. "That decision may cost Konoha dearly. Cost lives. Cost stability. When the Uchiha survivors grow strong enough to act on their resentment, when they train their children to hate us, when they eventually return seeking revenge—that blood will be on your hands."
"Then it's my decision to make and my cost to bear," Hiruzen replied, and his voice carried weight of someone who'd already made peace with consequences. "I ordered one massacre. Live with that guilt daily. See those three hundred seventy-four faces in my dreams. I won't order another against people who've done nothing but survive what we inflicted on them. This discussion is over."
The silence that followed felt like pressure before lightning—air so charged that breathing became difficult, everyone waiting to see if the storm would break or pass.
Then Danzo bowed—formal, controlled, his movements precise in ways that revealed nothing about whether this was acceptance or merely tactical retreat.
"As you command, Hokage-sama," Danzo said.
But as he turned to leave, as his gaze swept across the room in dismissal, Sasuke caught something in that single visible eye that made his blood run cold.
This wasn't acceptance. This wasn't even disagreement that would be argued later through proper channels.
This was calculation. The look of someone who'd just confirmed what he suspected—that the Hokage's authority was recommendation rather than command, that ROOT operated in spaces where official orders became suggestions, that Danzo's interpretation of "village security" superseded whatever Hiruzen decided.
After Danzo departed—the door closing with precise control that somehow felt more ominous than slamming—Hiruzen seemed to age another decade in the space of seconds.
"Sasuke," the Hokage said, his voice carrying exhaustion and determination in equal measure. "Go to them. Warn the Hidden Uchiha Village that Danzo may act independently despite my orders. Tell them to increase defenses, prepare for attack, do whatever they need to survive."
He paused, his aged hands trembling slightly as he reached for his pipe—a nervous habit Sasuke had noticed increasing over recent months.
"And tell them..." Hiruzen continued, his voice dropping to something that approached vulnerability, "tell them that I'm sorry. For the massacre. For the years of suspicion that led to it. For being too weak to stop it, too weak to prevent what came after, too weak now to guarantee they'll be left alone. It's inadequate. Words are always inadequate when weighed against blood. But it's the only thing I can offer beyond non-interference I may not be able to enforce."
The admission of weakness from the Hokage—the God of Shinobi, the Professor who'd led Konoha through multiple wars—struck Sasuke harder than he'd expected.
"I'll tell them," Sasuke promised, already moving toward the door.
"Sasuke," Kakashi called out, stopping him at the threshold. "You don't have to do this alone. Let me gather—"
"No time," Sasuke interrupted. "Every hour matters if Danzo's planning independent action. I'll move faster alone. And..." he paused, uncertain how to articulate what he felt, "...I need to do this. Need to prove to them and to myself that I can choose the right thing even when it costs me."
He left before Kakashi could argue, before the Hokage could offer more inadequate apologies, before any of them could convince him that thirteen-year-old shouldn't be racing toward battlefield carrying warnings no one could guarantee would arrive in time.
The journey to the Ghost Lands took most of the day—pushing his body past limits, using chakra enhancement techniques that would leave him exhausted but got him there faster.
By the time Sasuke reached the valley's outer perimeter, dusk was painting the sky in shades of blood and copper, and his legs were trembling from sustained sprint through hostile territory.
The perimeter sensors detected him immediately—he felt them trigger, felt chakra signatures converging on his position with speed that suggested they'd been expecting attack.
"It's me!" Sasuke called out, his hands raised and visible. "Sasuke Uchiha! I'm alone! I have warning!"
Keisuke emerged from the trees, his damaged vision tracking Sasuke through chakra sense rather than sight, his posture suggesting readiness for violence that relaxed only fractionally when he confirmed Sasuke's identity.
"You ran here," Keisuke observed, his tone mixing concern with tactical assessment. "Through the night and day. What's coming?"
"Danzo," Sasuke gasped, collapsing against a tree as his legs finally gave out. "Preparing attack. Tonight, maybe. Hokage denied authorization but doesn't matter. ROOT operates independently. Fifteen operatives. Elite division. They're coming to finish what Itachi started."
The words tumbled out between gasping breaths, his lungs burning from exertion and his heart hammering from fear that he'd arrived too late, that the attack had already begun, that he'd find corpses instead of defenders.
Keisuke's chakra signature flared—not with panic, but with grim determination that suggested he'd been preparing for this moment since they'd first made contact with Sasuke.
"How long?" Keisuke asked, his hands already moving to signal the hidden defenders.
"Hours, maybe," Sasuke managed. "I left immediately after the Hokage denied Danzo's request. Ran straight here. But Danzo's ROOT—they move fast. Could already be in position. Could be watching us right now."
"Then we assume they're coming tonight," Keisuke decided. "Ayame! Sound general alert! Full defensive protocol! This isn't drill!"
The valley erupted into controlled chaos—not panic, but practiced mobilization that spoke to years of drilling for exactly this scenario.
Sasuke watched as the Hidden Uchiha Village transformed from peaceful settlement into fortress in the space of minutes.
Children evacuated to deep caves with elderly guardians, their movements quick but not rushed, suggesting they'd practiced this evacuation dozens of times. Non-combatants moved supplies, secured defensive positions, prepared medical stations for inevitable casualties.
Combat-capable survivors took positions with precision that would have impressed Konoha's ANBU—overlapping fields of fire, mutual support, defensive depth that forced attackers into killing zones.
Keisuke moved through it all like conductor directing orchestra, his damaged vision making direct observation difficult but his understanding of their defenses allowing him to coordinate through verbal commands and chakra signals.
"Sasuke," Keisuke said, turning his blurred gaze toward where Sasuke had collapsed. "You did well. Warned us in time. Now rest. Recover your strength. When ROOT comes—and they will come—we'll need every fighter we have."
"I'm fighting with you," Sasuke said, forcing himself to stand despite his trembling legs. "I'm Uchiha. If Danzo attacks my clan, I defend them. I'll deal with the consequences later."
Keisuke was quiet for a moment, his damaged vision making Sasuke a blur of shape and chakra, but his understanding clear.
"You're thirteen," Keisuke said gently. "You've run yourself to exhaustion delivering warning. You've already done more than we had right to ask. You don't have to—"
"I'm Uchiha," Sasuke interrupted, his voice carrying certainty that surprised even himself. "You said it yourself—being Uchiha means something. Means standing with family even when it's dangerous. Even when it costs you. I choose to stand here. With them. With you. Whatever that means for my relationship with Konoha—I'll figure that out later."
Mirai approached, her three-tomoe Sharingan active and tracking Sasuke with expression mixing approval and concern.
"Give him position on the eastern perimeter," Mirai said to Keisuke. "Near me. His Sharingan is fresh, he's trained, and he knows ROOT tactics from Konoha's Academy. We'd be stupid not to use him."
Keisuke nodded slowly. "Eastern perimeter. Stay with Mirai. Follow her orders. If she tells you to retreat, you retreat. Understood?"
"Understood," Sasuke lied, and they both knew it, but there was no time for argument.
The defenders took their positions as darkness fell, the moon rising red and full over the Ghost Lands like an eye watching judgment unfold.
Sasuke found himself on the eastern perimeter with Mirai and two other defenders, positioned behind defensive works that provided cover while allowing clear sight lines toward the approach routes ROOT would likely use.
"Ever fought ROOT before?" Mirai asked, her tone conversational despite the tension radiating from her chakra.
"No," Sasuke admitted. "Trained against their tactics in Academy. Learned about their techniques. But never faced them in actual combat."
"They don't feel pain the way normal shinobi do," Mirai explained, her voice dropping to teaching mode. "Conditioning suppresses self-preservation instinct. They'll trade injuries for advantages without hesitation. Won't retreat unless ordered. Won't surrender even if defeated. You have to kill them or incapacitate them completely. Mercy is weakness they'll exploit."
"Noted," Sasuke said, his hands checking his weapons with practiced efficiency.
"And Sasuke?" Mirai's tone softened slightly. "Thank you. For warning us. For choosing to fight with us. For being Uchiha in ways that matter more than blood."
Before Sasuke could respond, Keisuke's voice cut through the darkness—chakra-enhanced, carrying across the entire defensive perimeter.
"Contacts. Multiple. Moving through the forest. Fifteen signatures. ROOT operational patterns. They're here. Defensive positions. Remember your training. Fight smart. Survive. Make them bleed for every inch."
The words hung in the air for heartbeat before silence descended—oppressive, absolute, broken only by wind through trees and the distant sound of night birds fleeing from predators.
Then the world exploded into violence.
In ROOT headquarters hours earlier, Danzo had stood before his assembled operatives with expression that revealed nothing.
Fifteen elite agents, their masks covering faces but their chakra signatures suggesting capabilities that exceeded standard ANBU. These were his best—conditioned since childhood, trained in techniques that sacrificed humanity for efficiency, equipped with tools that blurred the line between shinobi and weapon.
"Hiruzen has grown weak," Danzo said, his voice carrying no judgment, just statement of fact. "His sentiment endangers Konoha. The Uchiha survivors represent threat that will grow if left unchecked. Threat and evidence—evidence that must be eliminated before it becomes liability."
The operatives stood at attention, their conditioning preventing questions or doubt. They existed to follow orders. Everything else was weakness to be purged.
"The target settlement has approximately thirty occupants," Danzo continued, pulling up a map showing the valley's layout based on the intelligence his operative had gathered while Sasuke visited. "Twenty-nine confirmed, possibly more who weren't visible during reconnaissance. Defensive position is strong—valley entrance forms natural chokepoint, high ground provides advantage, they've had years to prepare traps and fortifications."
He paused, his single visible eye tracking across his assembled force.
"But they're civilians and children with handful of combat-capable adults," Danzo said. "You are ROOT. You've trained your entire lives for missions exactly like this. Superior training. Superior conditioning. Superior tactical coordination. Numbers are irrelevant when quality is sufficiently disparate."
Among the assembled operatives stood one whose mask concealed something unexpected—a Sharingan eye, stolen from an Uchiha corpse and implanted into ROOT agent through techniques that Danzo had refined over years of experimentation.
"Engage with extreme prejudice," Danzo ordered. "Complete elimination. Harvest intact Sharingan eyes for ROOT use—the Uchiha's power will serve Konoha whether they will it or not. Leave no survivors to spread stories of ROOT involvement. Make it appear as mercenary attack or territorial dispute. Konoha's hands remain clean."
The operatives bowed in unison, accepting orders without hesitation or moral consideration.
"Deploy at dusk," Danzo continued. "Strike at midnight. Complete operation before dawn. Return with confirmation and any viable Sharingan specimens. Dismissed."
They vanished like smoke, leaving Danzo alone in his headquarters.
He approached the wall where he kept his collection—Sharingan eyes preserved in containers, stolen from Uchiha corpses during the massacre, waiting for the moment when they'd be needed.
Soon, he thought, his single visible eye tracking across his collection, soon there will be more. And the Uchiha will finally serve Konoha the way they always should have—as tools to be used and discarded as necessity demands.
He felt no guilt. No hesitation. No doubt that what he was ordering was anything except necessary protection of the village he'd devoted his life to defending.
The Uchiha had always been threats. Eliminating threats was simply good policy.
The attack, when it came, arrived like storm breaking—sudden, overwhelming, precise.
ROOT operatives hit the perimeter from multiple directions simultaneously, their coordination suggesting they'd drilled together for years. They moved with efficiency that made Konoha's regular ANBU seem clumsy by comparison—no wasted movement, no hesitation, every action calculated for maximum tactical advantage.
Sasuke's Sharingan tracked the first operative who emerged from the darkness—masked figure moving with speed that blurred even to his enhanced vision. The ROOT agent's hands moved through seals faster than most jonin could manage, and fire exploded across the defensive position.
Mirai countered with her own technique, her Sharingan predicting the attack's trajectory and allowing her to position water technique that intercepted the flames. Steam exploded across the battlefield, providing cover that both sides could exploit.
"Defensive pattern gamma!" Mirai shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Overlapping coverage! Don't let them isolate anyone!"
Sasuke moved on instinct honed through years of Academy training, his body falling into defensive stance while his Sharingan tracked threats. A kunai whistled past his ear—too close, his dodge fractionally late because exhaustion from running all day had slowed his reactions.
He countered with shuriken, his throws precise despite fatigue, forcing the ROOT operative to substitute away. But where one vanished, two more appeared, their tactics suggesting pack hunting rather than individual combat.
They're not just attacking, Sasuke realized, his tactical mind processing patterns beneath the chaos. They're testing. Finding weaknesses. Mapping our defenses before committing to full assault.
"Fall back to secondary positions!" Keisuke's voice carried across the battlefield, chakra-enhanced to cut through the sounds of combat. "Controlled retreat! Make them follow! Lead them into trap zones!"
The defenders moved with practiced efficiency, their retreat organized rather than panicked. Sasuke found himself moving with Mirai toward prepared positions where traps waited for pursuers, where defensive advantages neutralized ROOT's superior training.
A ROOT operative pursued them, his speed suggesting jonin-level capabilities despite his masked anonymity. He moved through the defensive retreat like knife through silk, his tactics suggesting he'd fought Uchiha before, knew how to counter Sharingan prediction.
Mirai engaged him directly, her three-tomoe Sharingan tracking his movements while her taijutsu—fluid, precise, deadly—forced him into defensive position. But he adapted quickly, his conditioning allowing him to process information and adjust faster than normal shinobi could manage.
Sasuke moved to flank, his hands forming seals for the Chidori—Kakashi's technique, modified through his own practice, crackling with lightning that turned night to day.
The ROOT operative's attention split—fraction of a second, barely noticeable, but enough.
Mirai's kunai found his throat, her strike surgical and lethal, ending the engagement before the operative could adjust to two-front assault.
He fell without sound, without cry, his conditioning suppressing even death's natural responses.
"First kill?" Mirai asked, her tone gentle despite the violence.
"No," Sasuke said, thinking of his missions with Team 7, the fights that had slowly transformed him from Academy student to shinobi. "But first time it felt like this. Like it mattered."
"It matters," Mirai confirmed. "Every one of them we take down is one less threat to our children. To our future. Remember that when the killing gets hard."
They moved deeper into the defensive positions, joining other defenders who'd fallen back in organized retreat. The valley's natural chokepoints forced ROOT operatives into killing zones where traps and prepared positions neutralized their individual superiority.
But Sasuke's Sharingan tracked the bigger picture, seeing what the immediate combat obscured: ROOT was still probing, still testing, their casualties measured risks rather than catastrophic losses.
They were learning the defenses. Mapping the traps. Preparing for committed assault.
And when that assault came—when they stopped testing and started killing in earnest—Sasuke wasn't sure the survivors would be able to hold.
The moon rose higher, painting everything in shades of blood and silver, and the battle for the Hidden Uchiha Village's survival had only just begun.