Uchiha Kai had been reflecting on what exactly the "trigger point" for Uchiha Fugaku would be.
Understanding Fugaku's stoic and calculating personality, Kai had anticipated that such a moment would eventually arrive—an opportunity to force Fugaku to take a stance, or at least show interest in him. Kai had planned to create such a scenario himself. What he didn't expect… was for that trigger to appear so soon.
Kakashi.
The son of Sakumo Hatake, the "White Fang of Konoha." A prodigy who had become a Chūnin at age six. And more importantly, the student of Namikaze Minato—the man already favored by Hiruzen Sarutobi as the next Hokage.
Kai had made gestures of goodwill toward Kakashi in the past. Not just for friendship, but as an opening. A calculated, symbolic move. If Uchiha Fugaku was truly paying attention, he would see the significance.
And it seemed he had. Kai's actions were beginning to draw Fugaku's attention. That, at least, was a win.
Kai had once demonstrated to Fugaku that he didn't put the clan above all else—because, frankly, he didn't. But later, he'd issued a new kind of statement, one Fugaku likely hadn't expected. A move that revealed he wasn't just another idealistic fool or self-centered genius. Kai was playing a deeper game.
And Fugaku noticed.
"You…"
The clan member—Uchiha Cangjie—was visibly startled by Kai's sudden appearance, especially when he caught sight of his scarlet, three-tomoe Sharingan.
"What's wrong with me?" Kai's voice was firm and laced with disdain. "You bring up clan purity and suspicion at a time like this? Did you forget who Kakashi is? Who he was trained by? And who stands behind Minato Namikaze politically?"
His eyes narrowed coldly. "The village is just beginning to heal from war, and you want to stir unrest? Tell me—have you ever stood on a battlefield?"
"Kai Uchiha! You insult the honor of the Uchiha clan!"
Cangjie was clearly shaken, unprepared for such bluntness. His indignation sounded hollow.
"A man who's never seen war wants to speak to me about honor?"
Kai's lip curled into a sneer.
"I fought on the front lines. I earned every inch of respect I've received. What have you done? Obito gave Kakashi that Sharingan with his dying breath. And you—daring to mock that—show no respect for the will of a fallen hero. You disgrace the Uchiha name more than anyone."
His voice was loud. Deliberately so. The nearby Hyūga clan could hear him, and no doubt others as well—perhaps even the Sandaime Hokage and the various Konoha jōnin attending the funeral.
It looked like Kai was lecturing Cangjie. In reality, he was sending a clear message to the village: I stand with reason. I stand with balance.
This "trigger point" he was crafting had to be sharp, visible, and effective. If it wasn't, Fugaku would see it as nothing more than foolish noise.
And Kai was watching. Watching Fugaku's every subtle reaction.
Yes—there it was. The faintest flicker across the clan head's expression. A mixture of irritation, curiosity, and reflection.
Perfect.
If even his provocative speech couldn't shift Fugaku slightly, then Kai's gambit would have been in vain. But it was working.
Fugaku was still Fugaku. Without the Nine-Tails incident, he remained tethered to the village—if not to the leadership. Perhaps he had doubts. Perhaps he still hoped for coexistence. But the Konoha he believed in wasn't Sarutobi's regime. It was the ideal of a village worth protecting.
"Enough," Fugaku's voice cut in, firm and authoritative. "Now is the time to honor the fallen. Do not disgrace their memory with petty arguments. Kakashi's Sharingan was a gift. Respect the will of the dead."
"But—"
"That's enough," Kai interrupted coldly. His Sharingan faded. "The patriarch has spoken. Do you even understand what it means to respect the dead?"
Fugaku stepped in again, tone more controlled this time. "Cangjie is of your father's generation. Show him some restraint."
Elder?
Kai said nothing, but the look on his face said everything: This is the kind of man I'm meant to respect?
Cangjie's face twisted with fury, but he held his tongue. Fugaku's stance was clear. He couldn't push back any further.
The clash passed without further escalation. The memorial proceeded—and concluded—without further disturbance.
Still, Kai caught the lingering glare Cangjie threw his way as people began to leave. He just sighed.
It doesn't matter.
If he wanted to play this game—navigate between the old Uchiha ways and the shifting future of Konoha—he had to pay the price. Alienating some of his own kin was inevitable.
Kai remembered something he once read: "Peace demands a price." A perfect ending is an illusion. Even if you strive for it… you pay in blood, sacrifice, and uncertainty.
He didn't know if his plan would succeed. But for his survival—and for a future where the Uchiha wouldn't end in flames—he was willing to try.
Still, he had to move carefully. His approach so far remained balanced. Palatable to both sides. It was the most compromise he could offer. And it might just be enough.
"Kai-kun, wait a moment."
A voice called from behind just as Kai turned to leave. He paused, recognizing it instantly.
Minato Namikaze.
"Captain Minato?" Kai turned, respectful.
"I heard what happened just now," Minato said, stepping closer. There was no arrogance in his voice—only sincerity. Then, without warning, he bowed deeply.
"Thank you for protecting Kakashi. I'm truly grateful."
Kai blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected that.
"There's no need for that, Captain Minato," he said, quickly stepping forward to stop him. "I made a promise to Kakashi. I told him that if anyone from the Uchiha clan gave him trouble, he could come to me. I was just keeping my word."
And leveraging your rising status to boost my own plan, he thought silently.
Still… Minato's genuine nature made Kai hesitate.
He liked this man. Minato was everything Hiruzen wasn't—honest, humble, and powerful in his own right. But it was also that kindness, that idealism, that had made him the perfect puppet for the old guard.
No wonder Orochimaru had scoffed. "A Hokage with no shadow of his own," he'd once said.