Uchiha Patriarch

Fugaku's analysis sent a chill down Tenjō's spine. He had always believed that the Uchiha clan was a powerful force to be reckoned with, but now he saw the truth. Without the Mangekyō Sharingan, they were no different than some stronger pawns to the village elders.

Fugaku's warning about the possibility of all the Elders being assassinated and the concentration of political power that would result was a stark reminder of the fragility of the overall situation. The Uchiha were numerous, but they lacked a true powerhouse, making them vulnerable to being cast aside at any moment. It was a sobering thought, and Tenjō couldn't help but feel a tinge of fear for the future of his clan.

Tenjō let out a heavy sigh, "I hope your speculation is wrong. The Uchiha clan without the Mangekyō Sharingan is not much stronger than the village elders. While there are many of us, we lack a true powerhouse and could become victims at any moment. We must tread carefully and stay vigilant to protect both the village and our clan's interests."

"Don't be too pessimistic, Father," Fugaku said, trying to reassure Tenjō. "Although the Uchiha clan lacks Peak powerhouses, there are still many clansmen with 3-Tomoe Sharingan who are skilled in combat. Any attempt to deal with the Uchiha at the current time would require a large number of Elite Shinōbi, which would cause an uproar if mobilized at the moment. Besides, with the current state of unrest in the Ninja world, Konoha's High Echelon would not risk weakening their own strength by cutting off their own arm and targeting the Uchiha."

Father and son had been engrossed in conversation until the late hours of the night, with Fugaku offering insights that left Tenjō feeling somewhat shocked. Fugaku had pointed out many of Tenjō's blind spots, shedding light on the complex political game being played in Konoha.

As the conversation drew to a close, Tenjō couldn't help but sigh in a mixture of relief and frustration. He realized that the clan had pinned their hopes on his son, the young prodigy, to navigate the dangerous waters of Konoha's political landscape. It was a weighty responsibility, but he also saw that his son was determined to live up to their expectations and ensure the Uchiha clan's survival in these turbulent times.

[POV: Narrator]

[Location: Konoha]

[Data: Same time as the discussion]

Outside the walls of the Uchiha Compound, the night was far from calm. In a dimly lit alley, two patrolling Uchiha clan members clutched their throats in horror as blood gushed from between their fingers. Their eyes bulged with shock and fear as several shadowy figures darted past them and disappeared into the darkness.

The shadows moved with eerie swiftness, leaping between the houses of Konoha until they reached a tall, imposing mansion. With practiced ease, they scaled the walls and slipped through the windows like ghosts, their movements as silent as the night itself.

This mansion belonged to another Elder of Konoha, Elder Yamamoto. The shadowy figures moved with such familiarity that it seemed as if they were navigating an abandoned landscape.

They headed straight for Elder Yamamoto's residence. Asleep in his home, Elder Yamamoto suddenly opened his eyes. Though old and weak, he was still very sensitive to his surroundings. When the shadowy figures entered his house, he quickly fled into the yard to escape their grasp.

Elder Yamamoto's heart was pounding in his chest as he made his way through the dimly lit yard. His mind raced with thoughts of who could be after him and why. He had always been cautious and careful, but it seemed that it was no longer enough to guarantee his safety.

As he stumbled over a loose stone in the yard, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He quickly ducked behind a nearby bush, hoping that he would not be discovered.

The shadowy figures moved with silent efficiency, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of the Elder. One of them approached the bush where Elder Yamamoto was hiding, causing him to hold his breath in anticipation.

As Elder Yamamoto tried to flee unnoticed from the yard to escape the shadowy figures, a flash of saber light illuminated the darkness. With years of combat experience, Elder Yamamoto managed to evade the incoming blade, but not without sustaining an injury to his left rib, blood seeping out from the wound.

Elder Yamamoto's heart raced with fear and adrenaline as he blocked blow after blow from the masked Shinōbi. His mind raced as he tried to piece together who could be behind this brazen attack on Konoha.

Despite his age and frailty, Elder Yamamoto refused to go down without a fight. He knew that the fate of his village and the safety of his fellow Elders rested on his ability to hold off the attackers.

Sweat poured down his face as he continued to defend himself, his Dao Daohua blossoming with each strike he blocked. But the six Shinōbi were relentless, their attacks coming faster and harder with each passing moment.

As the fight raged on, Elder Yamamoto began to feel his strength waning. His breathing grew shallow, and he knew that he couldn't keep this up much longer. But he refused to give up, his will to survive and to protect his village and this was giving him the strength to keep fighting.

With a final burst of energy, Elder Yamamoto launched himself at the attackers, his sword flashing in the moonlight. But the Shinōbi was too quick, and they easily dodged his attack.

As he stumbled backward, Elder Yamamoto knew that his time was running out. With an angry and defiant roar, he braced himself for the inevitable end that was approaching.

The Shinōbi continued their relentless attack, leaving Elder Yamamoto no chance to catch his breath. Their movements were seamless and coordinated, as they closed in on him from all directions, slowly whittling down the elderly man.

With a final burst of effort, Elder Yamamoto forced all of the chakra in his body to flow, sending a silver arc slicing through the night sky. It cut through the mask of one of his attackers, revealing her face. Even though he knew he was about to die, Yamamoto had to see who wanted him dead.

The mask split in two, accompanied by a splatter of blood, and the six weapons plunged deep into Elder Yamamoto's body. Despite his injuries, Yamamoto continued to fight, but the Shinōbi were relentless and attacked from all directions, and he knew that he would not survive this encounter. As his vision faded, he whispered a prayer for his beloved Konoha, hoping that it would survive this new era of chaos and darkness.

Finally, a big mouthful of blood spurted out of Yamamoto's mouth, and he collapsed to the ground. As he looked up at the Shinōbi, whose mask had fallen off, his wide-eyed expression revealed his surprise and disbelief. The assassin was someone he never expected.

"This person has already seen your true face. You can't leave him alive. Clean up the scene and retreat immediately," someone whispered.

The wounded Shinōbi masked her face to cover her injuries and nodded in agreement. In a flash of light, they disappeared, leaving only a headless body lying in the courtyard.

(A/N: What a sick world this is!!! They even took the old man's head with them because the Yamanaka are such a bs Clan that can read a corpse's memories!!! THIS IS THE SHINOBI WORLDS ULTIMATE VERSION OF DELETING YOUR HISTORY SO THAT YOUR PARENTS DON'T SEE THE SICK PORN YOU WATCHED!!)

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