Pyrope

by Time Parad0x

Mikoto — a mother of two: one daughter a failure, and the other barely adequate — realizes that there exists another child carrying her blood. One she had always wished for, and protecting him and his happiness becomes her life's mission. Luckily as a clan leader, she just might have the means to pull that off. [Naruto U., Mikoto U., fem Sasuke U., fem Itachi U., Uchiha harem]

3. Chapter 03 - Tea Time

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

Authors Note: In case it wasn't glaringly obvious, given the direction of the story. This story will contain major character deaths, including people that usually are exempt from this.

This chapter was edited by PraetorXyn

Chapter 03: Tea time

"Hey, there sis," Shisui greeted me.

"So what's this all about?" he asked as he plopped down across from me at the chabudai. In response to the stern look I threw his way, he didn't hesitate to raise his hands in surrender and allayed, "Not that I'm complaining. But you have to agree it's not every day that you break into my house to leave a note saying to come over for some tea."

Raising my eyebrows at his cavalier attitude — which even for him seemed out of place considering recent events — I wondered aloud, "You haven't heard?" Then again, neither one of us could say we were close to our father.

"Heard what?"

"Father died yesterday."

"What, how?" he exclaimed, shocked.

"They say his heart gave out." At least, that was what Fugaku believed the coroner told him, since I burned his body to ash as is the tradition within our clan — after I removed his eyes. Nobody would ever learn the truth of the matter.

"His heart, hmm," he repeated, only to add — mumbling under his breath — "I didn't know he had one."

Playing my role of the prim and proper wife of the clan leader and loving daughter, I chided my little brother, "You should not speak ill of the dead, it is unbecoming."

"Sorry," he said, cowed as silence settled over us. It took him more than a minute to regain his voice.

I hummed my agreement as I filled the cup in front of him with hot tea.

"I know father and I didn't have a good relationship and that we weren't close. Hell, I'd say we weren't even family." A sentiment we apparently had in common, little brother, I thought. "After all, I was just the spare — the second born — who couldn't hope to live up to his expectations. Everything about me — according to him — was just wrong. My personality, the way I walk, the way I talk, you name it: I'm sure Father could have found a flaw in it when it pertained to me," he said with a hint of regret in his voice I couldn't empathize with. "I never understood how you could get along with him. I'm actually curious: how did you manage him not constantly looking at you as if your mere existence was an insult to him?" Years and years of having him adjust and mess with my personality and mind until I became what he envisioned his perfect daughter should be like, I thought as I balled my hand under the table into a fist.

Calmly and with a pleasant smile on my lips, I told him, "It certainly did not help your case that you made a sport out of trying to get a rise out of father."

"Yeah, there was that," he made a bad attempt at hiding his embarrassment behind a laugh, and we fell into a comfortable silence sipping tea. "Well, when's the funeral?"

"In a week from now, his ashes will be scattered across the Naka River as per his will."

"I see," he mulled over my words. "You know, I never could wrap my head around why your husband ended up taking the mantle of clan leadership and not you? After all, you were Father's perfect little princess." The answer to his question was a simple one. Father hadn't considered me a suitable replacement for himself, and instead had made me serve his chosen successor as breeding stock. To suit that role father had groomed me to become the most agreeable wife possible. That way, father had tried to ensure Fugaku's heir would carry his blood and ideology. Still, those were not truths my brother needed to know.

"It was my decision. I didn't want to spend most of my time with those stuffy elders and instead wanted to take care of my family."

"Who could blame you," he said sagely. "Where is the rest of the family? The last time I was here, Sayuri wouldn't stop talking and asking questions about what being in ANBU was like. Apparently, her onē-chan refuses to talk about it."

"Fugaku is working, Sayuri is with Kasumi, and as for where Izumi is, you would probably know better than me."

"You might have a point there," he conceded with a laugh.

"Speaking of kids, what can you tell me about Sayuri's classmate, Uzumaki Naruto?"

That question immediately put him on guard. "What makes you think I know anything about him?" he shot back.

"Please, do not insult my intelligence. Need I remind you that I was once part of ANBU, too? I also know how the higher-ups think. They would never allow a vulnerable village asset to be without protection. Protection that — as it happens — is not provided by the Uchiha police force, which in turn just leaves us with…"

"ANBU," he completed my sentence for me. "Let's assume you are correct. That still doesn't mean I know shit."

I inclined my head, wordlessly relaying to him the question. Really? This is how you want this to go down? "No, it does not if we were talking about anything else than Uzumaki Naruto. As I mentioned earlier, little brother, I wore an animal mask myself. I know how popular those missions within the village are — for obvious reasons — and that for the sake of fairness, there is a rotation in place for all low-risk recurring missions. A mission like guarding the village jinchūriki certainly enjoys great popularity with your comrades, so let us try this again. What can you tell me about Uzumaki Naruto?"

"Why the sudden interest, onē-chan? You didn't once ask me about the kid since I joined ANBU, and I've been with them for… wow — nearly three years — time does fly."

`I recently regained my freedom and am interested in the well-being of my godson, who turned out to be my kin´ was on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I said, "Father's death made me reconsider some of my life choices."

"It did?" He had trouble containing his surprise at my statement. "Don't tell me you also are going to divorce Fugaku," he joked.

"Of course not," I said in fake indignation, "he is the father of my children." He deserved so much worse for his part in preventing me from taking custody of my Naruto. If not for him running to my progenitor when I had made my intentions clear to get him to talk some sense into me, Naruto would have grown up calling me his mother.

"Right," he drawled, "you do know that getting rid of him doesn't change that? It would also allow you to depose him. You couldn't be a worse leader if you tried," he added playfully. I saw it for what it was: an obvious attempt to blunt the edge of his prior statement.

It was hard not to notice that he seemed awfully interested in a change of leadership. Given his strong dislike for politics, it seemed my suspicions that my little brother was a spy weren't completely unfounded.

To be fair, he had a point. In an ideal world, different leadership might be able to avert the village and the clan clashing. Realistically, if I were to take over the clan and make inroads in that direction, the hardliners within the clan would undoubtedly try to kill me. Since this would mean they had to cross the line of going against their own family, they would take care of Shisui at the same time. I was confident in my skills, but I was also aware that there were countless other ways to be killed besides getting a kunai rammed into your throat.

It wouldn't be the first time that motivated shinobi succeeded in bringing someone said to be impossible to beat in a fight down via some exotic means, and the clan — Fugaku most likely leading the charge — would be very motivated. So, no, little brother, that wasn't actually a viable option — not for me. The only one who would profit from that would be the village by pitting the Uchiha against each other in order to prevent them from starting a civil war with the village. It could work at least for a time, and it would allow them to pick up the pieces, or — if they were bold enough to violate the Konoha Charter — support one side over the other.

I had no interest in becoming the village's patsy or puppet. I had already had enough of that to last me several lifetimes.

Nevertheless, he was playing a dangerous game, voicing those thoughts to the wife of the current clan leader. Especially considering his status as a spy. It was reckless, but then again, when wasn't my brother? Although, I doubted he had done that to gauge my loyalties.

"I know what you are doing," I chastised, "stop trying to change the topic and answer the question."

Taking his time scrutinizing me, he eventually dropped his shoulders, eased the tension, and sighed, "Well, I guess there is no harm in telling you. I don't think you would hurt Kushina's kid, but please keep what I tell you to yourself. The last thing I need — at the moment — is being dragged before Dragon 'cause I mentioned some irrelevant tidbits of info over tea with my sister."

In response, my brother received the best encouraging smile I could manage while internally I was seething. The impertinence of him to even consider me capable of hurting my Naruto. I had half a mind to remove his intestines through his nose for that slight.

"Where to start," he considered as he thrummed his index finger against the chabudai. "He's a good kid: kind, boisterous, exuberant, and — just like Kushina — has a verbal tic. He's also smart, alarmingly so. Contrary to what the academy instructors write into their report cards about the kyūbi-brat. They're the ones sabotaging his education by removing him from class for made-up reasons." Under the chabudai, my fingers painfully dug into my thigh.

"I've never seen anyone come up with traps on the fly the way he does for those pranks of his. Using only the materials he has at hand it's frankly mind-boggling. The sophistication of some of them is unbelievable. To say he had a talent for them is the understatement of the century. He's that good." I wasn't surprised there were quite a few overlaps between making a trap and crafting a seal, as both required the imagination and creativity necessary and the ability to piece it all together. He was shaking his head at that point. "If only it would be acknowledged as such."

"What do you mean?" I asked, dreading his answer.

"There's no easy way to say this," he mused, "the kid is ostracised. Pretty much any adult he interacts with treats him like shit, no doubt blending the kid and the monster residing in hisseal into one entity. This wouldn't necessarily be a problem if not for the children unconsciously mirroring their parents' behavior — if they are even allowed to get near him to begin with. As you can imagine, the result of this is that he doesn't have a single friend to his name. Some of the clan kids tolerate his presence — probably because their parents aren't morons and taught their kids better. But peer pressure at that age is nothing to scoff at."

"Those pranks of his I mentioned are — for the most part — aimed at people who slighted him in some fashion. Some would credit that to a vindictive streak in the kid. But I don't think that is really the case. I think it's just a means for him to cope, to turn a sad experience he suffered at the hands of someone into a happy one, with the probably intended side-effect of excluding the people who wronged him in a similar fashion. Also, it attracts attention towards him, which he's starved of, so he might already be at a point where he's willing to draw the bad kind of attention rather than getting none at all," he surmised, and I couldn't argue with that: it made too much sense for it not to be true.

"Basically," my brother continued, "the kid only has a few people in the village who treat him like a person rather than a plague, that ramen chef and his daughter among them. Although, it might be because he's their best customer," he added with a smirk. "Sometimes I wonder if the kid eats anything besides ramen."

"Teuchi," I spurted out, realizing that I hadn't been there for a bowl or ramen since Kushina's death. She was the one who dragged me and Minato there nearly daily to worship the best food ever made as she liked to put it.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"It was Kushina's favorite."

"Ahh," he said, scratching his cheek, "that makes a sort of sense, I guess." After a short pause he continued, "The sole other positive relationship the kid has is with the Third. He calls him old man, the cheek of that kid," he said laughing. Hearing that conjured a soft smile on my lips. Kushina was the same, not caring for titles or social standing. Sobering up a moment later, he said, "The troubling thing is, I'm pretty certain this all is by design. I know for a fact that at least three people came back from guarding him and informed the Hokage about the worrying degree of isolation Naruto had to endure without effect. Well… that may not be entirely true to be fair. The ones who brought it up were barred from taking that mission again, and the next day the Hokage gave Naruto a short visit. I think they're conditioning him: limit positive relationships with him to a scant few, and he'll latch onto those that remain that much harder."

"Eventually coming to consider them as his most precious people, willing to do anything to make them happy," I concluded. They were doing the same thing to him my father had done to me, just without the means of Kotoamatsukami. If I didn't already have a plan in motion already that — as an unintended consequence — would result in getting my Naruto out of that situation, I would be on my way to have words with Hiruzen: heated words with some sprinkling of fire and carnage.

"Yeah, pretty much," he agreed.

"Where is he living?" I asked. The grimace at the question on my brother's face was telling, "Surely he has a caretaker. He is still just a kid even though our village seems to forget that quite often."

"Tell me about it," he said bemused, "but unfortunately not. He's on his own. And as I understand it, the only reason he isn't living in the orphanage until his graduation as is usually the case goes back to some kind of incident. I'm not privy to the details since the incident predates my joining of ANBU. I only know whatever happened was enough for the Hokage to give him his own two-room apartment on the eastern edge of the civilian district."

"You mean to tell me he resides in that rundown part with all those abandoned warehouses… is there even anyone living there?"

"Not really," he shrugged, "it makes keeping an eye on him easier." What he implied in that statement without outright saying it was that it also made it harder for him to interact with anyone.

"Thank you for telling me, little brother."

"Don't sweat—" he stopped midsentence, "something isn't right," he said worried, swaying back and forth. It took him glancing at the half-full tea cup in front of him before glancing up at me to press out, "What have you done?" with the last of his strength as his body threatened to fall over the chabudai. If he was surprised at my eyes being closed as I moved to catch him, I couldn't tell, and he was certainly no longer in any condition to voice it.

Softly maneuvering him by his shoulders, I placed his head into my lap and started caressing his head. A croak escaped his throat.

"If you are wondering why I have killed you, then the answer is that you are a traitor putting the village above the welfare of the clan. You are also too dangerous to allow to live. Your eyes in particular have proven too dangerous to be left in the wrong hands. I also have a need for them. You were also in the way. My real target happens to be the subversive elements who have taken over the Uchiha clan. Their transgressions are too numerous to count. Some I could have found it in me to forgive, but when their actions — even if only by accident — negatively impacted Naruto, their lives were forfeit. A foregone conclusion with me as their judge, jury, and executioner. Do not worry, little brother, I have no intention to exterminate the whole clan. Some will be allowed to live in order to make up for the clan's crimes. It will be a chance the clan was underserving of as we tie our fates to someone else. I will make sure this second chance is not squandered, and it will eventually lead to a stronger and better Uchiha clan arising from the ashes, residing in the shadows of something even greater," I explained.

"Don't fight it. It is futile. The poison I used was a special concoction of my own making. It will blast right through whatever little protection the poison resistance training you received as ANBU gave you. Once ingested and the onset time passes, you die — no exceptions. The poison is slowly suffocating you as your lungs stop working and your heart stills and makes you drift into a dreamless sleep before it is over. I tried to make your death as pleasant as possible." Lamenting, I added, "It is ironic. It was me who first held you when you came into this world, and it will be me who holds you when you leave it. Am I not a good, dutiful sister, little brother?"

I raked my fingers one last time through his hair when I noticed his heart had stopped beating and he was already dead. I bowed down and gave him a kiss on his forehead, whispering, "Sleep well" before I sat upright again. I then removed his head from my thighs, unwilling to risk exposing myself to an attack from him somehow clinging to life, faking his death. Patiently waiting for an opportunity to strike, I kept my eyes closed. Tracing his face, I found his eyelids and pulled them apart as I went to work and removed both of his eyes. Only after I held them in my hand did I open my eyes, Sharingan ablaze to look at him one last time, burning his sleeping form into my mind.

For a brief moment, I regretted that I couldn't have taken the risk of going through his memories. Getting confirmation of some of my theories would have been nice. In case I was right, learning what the village was up to would have been even better.

Pumping more chakra into my eyes, I advanced them to my Eternal Mangekyou and called forth the first stage of my Susanoo. I handed over my brother's eyes to one of his limbs and directed it to implant them within itself. This took only a second, immediately after which I dismissed the chakra construct.

It was a risk to do this in the Uchiha district, but I would need Kotoamatsukami shortly, and I was hoping a second set of eyes with the same power might strengthen it somehow. This being the first time I possessed eyes with duplicate abilities, I had no prior experience of what the end result might be.

It didn't take long for those eyes to settle, and a wave of power ran through me, although it was nowhere near what I had felt with my Naruto's eyes even though they weren't promoted to their Mangekyou stage. It was a similar boost to what I had received from my father's eyes. Certainly nothing world-shattering, but nothing to scoff at either.

I reached under the chabudai and withdrew a sealing scroll, and unfurled it on the floor right next to my brother. Grabbing his hip, I proceeded to roll his body over atop the scroll, and by applying some chakra made it disappear in a puff of smoke. I rolled up the scroll and walked to shoji leading into the house. Glancing back over my shoulder, I took one last look at the Uchiha district in all its glory, immersed in the red light of the setting sun: a scene depicting the state of the clan better than a thousand words possibly could have.

I didn't linger and returned back into the house.

I had cut it rather close with Shisui. There was not much time left until the start of the clan meeting set to take place right after sundown. Nonetheless, it could not have been helped. If I had taken care of him any earlier, his sudden disappearance might have been noticed and spoiled my plan, which I obviously couldn't allow.

I made my way to my room and stripped down to my underwear, discarding my apron, blouse, and plum skirt onto the floor. I wouldn't need those clothes — the ones my progenitor and husband hadmade me wear — any longer. They were a symbol of my oppression, designed to show off nothing more than my departure from my life as a shinobi. I was more than happy to finally be rid of them.

Tonight called for something special, something appropriate to be worn on such a joyous occasion. Opening my wardrobe, I knew just the thing. I obviously couldn't go there in anything resembling a combat outfit since it would give the game away, so I settled for the next best thing.

I reached for a black kimono adorned with a flower motif consisting solely of an intricate pattern of higanbana. The scarlet flower is associated with final goodbyes. According to legend, these flowers grow wherever people part for good, and they are said to serve the dead as a guide through samsāra. The latter was the reason I had commissioned the kimono eight years ago; it was made by the finest seamstress in the village using only the best materials, knowing full well Kushina would need all the help she could get to find her way to eternal peace. Today the other meaning would be at the forefront of my mind.

The fine silk felt even better on my skin than I remembered. Stepping in front of my full-length mirror, the kimono fit perfectly, just like the last time I had worn it. I took a moment to admire the floral pattern, consisting of one large higanbana on the back. Sprouting from it were four dark green tendrils — one trailing along each arm in a wavy line — whereas two remaining ones formed a double helix pattern around my legs. Furthermore, there were two more large higanbana on the inside of the tyu-furisode, so that when my arms were crossed in front of my stomach, it hid the flower pattern from being seen from the front, making it look as if it was black in its entirety.

The tyu-furisode would take me a few minutes to get reacquainted with. It definitely wasn't the most practical thing to wear in a fight, should it come to it. Despite that, I was sure I could manage.

That only left my hair. Wearing my long hair straight didn't pose a problem for a housewife, in contrast to a kunoichi in a fight. Back in the day — when I was still active — I would braid it into a single braided fishtail to keep it out of my field of view, but just like my old combat attire, I couldn't wear it without arousing suspicions. As a result, I settled for a plaited low bun. It wasn't nearly as suitable to wear with a kimono as a nihongami would have been, but it was far more practical.

I put all my sealing scrolls containing my equipment in the back of my scarlett obi, and removed a tile from the floor of my wardrobe. It gave way to a wooden case I removed from the secret compartment. Placing it onto my bed, I opened it, and found its contents exactly as I left it earlier this morning as I prepared it. Several vials filled with freshly-mixed fast-acting paralyzing poison that needed a few hours' exposure to air for its full potency to unfold. The box also contained a few hundred of the finest senbon money could buy. They were fashioned out of bone, and specifically treated to add liquid-absorbing properties, making them ideal as a tool for delivering poison.

I spent a few minutes carefully dipping them into the poison and watched them soak it up, resulting in a slight discoloring of the senbon — a visible representation that they were ready to be used. When I was done preparing them, I corked up the vials, closed the lid on the box, and sealed it all up in one of my scrolls. Also housed within the box were two holsters, which I strapped to my underarms and filled with senbon.

As a finishing touch, I used the last few remaining poison senbon and decorated my bun with them.

After one last glance in the mirror, I decided then and there this would be the outfit I would wear the first time Naruto would lay eyes on me. It would undoubtedly leave an impression.

The next step in my plan warranted my presence during the clan meeting that would begin shortly. I left the house and made my way to the Naka Shrine. It had been a long time since I had last set foot in it. Entering through the front gate, I walked into the main hall, and was surprised to find the seventh tatami from the far right was untouched.

Even though it wasn't required for me to be the first to arrive — since I simply couldn't have expected this occurrence with any reliability — it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless that would make things easier. I removed the tatami and the sealing stone atop the entrance, and proceeded to the secret underground bunker where the stone tablet was located.

The most well-kept secret of the Uchiha clan.

Walking up close, I activated my Sharingan, and the parts decipherable with it appeared. I must have read them hundreds of times, especially the part depicting how one could obtain the Mangekyou Sharingan.

To see the truth of all creation without obstruction, one must first witness true despair.

It was oddly unspecific, just like every other line written on it. It resembled a riddle more than true instructions, and left a lot of room for interpretation. For example, witness true despair when it would be more correct to read experience true despair. Unquestionably, a not insignificant number of my ancestors took that meaning literally and inflicted cruelties on people to bear witness to their despair. This was undoubtedly the source of the implacable hatred some clans felt towards us and cling to until this very day.

It was a worthless slab of stone whose meaning only became clear in retrospect, and Fugaku and the elders paid it far more attention than it was due. This was especially true since no actual worthwhile information about our eyes could be found anywhere on it. Still, I was curious about what else I could decipher with the eyes I had gained in the meantime. I wondered if those words would also keep me away from this place when I understood their true meaning.

Seeking stability, one god was divided into yin and yang, these opposing two acting together to obtain all things in creation.

When someone who possesses the power of saṃsāra approaches the moon, an eye will open that is reflected on the moon in order to grant the eternal dream.

These were the two lines that stood out among the new information I learned, and I had no idea what to make of them. Sighing, I cut the stream of chakra to my eyes, and they receded to their normal state.

It was time to set the stage for phase two of my plan. I removed one sealing scroll from my obi and unrolled it to its full length on the floor perpendicular to the stone slab. Subsequently, I walked a few steps until I stood next to the first seal with one foot. Taking half a step with my other foot, I lowered myself down vertically, bending my knees until I could touch the array and unsealed its contents, all the while taking great care that my furisode didn't touch the ground. In front of me appeared a small chabudai, a pot filled with water, a kyūsu, an assortment of different tea in small bowls, and a large tablet taking up half the space filled with tea cups on top of chataku.

With another touch, I activated the heating seal at the bottom of the water pot. I raised myself from my kneeling position and walked a few steps to the next seal and repeated the whole process 11 more times.

By the time I was done, the first people had arrived. Most couldn't hide their surprise at seeing me here. Even so, no one approached me, trying to silently sate their curiosity until Yuka came down the ladder. She was the eldest granddaughter of Elder Kaito, one of the most ardent supporters of my late progenitor's policies, and a close friend of Fugaku. Despite that, she — like my late brother — had cultivated a personality that offended the sensibilities of her family and most of the clan.

How could she not, with her happy and bubbly personality? There was talk to replace her as the heir of her branch of the family with one of her younger siblings or cousins. It likely would have happened if not for her talent as a kunoichi and the prestige she had earned the clan by breezing through the opposition at the last chunin exam held in Konoha. Without showing the whole village that she had more than earned her promotion, she undoubtedly would have already lost her position.

The girl — even though not quite at Izumi's level — was still one of the few bright sparks remaining within the clan.

She was accompanied by her older friend Nagi, a stern and silent girl who — on more than one occasion — was called Yuka's shadow. It was an apt description since they were rarely seen apart even before Yuka had been promoted, and they had formed their own team with two other chunin.

"Mikoto-sama," she happily exclaimed, her bouncing step coming to a halt in front of me. "What are you doing here?"

"Why? Am I not welcome?" I asked back in a no-nonsense manner that had her visibly recoil.

Struggling for words, "That… that's not… what—"

"I was only teasing," I said, ending her struggle with a smile playing on my face. "I am here because, after my father's death and the difficult situation we find ourselves in, I deemed it necessary to show my support to my husband and the clan." I kept my repulsion at calling Fugaku that to myself with practiced ease.

"Oh," she faltered. It was hard not to notice her disappointment. It was unsurprising, since she was one of the most likely candidates to oppose what the clan was attempting to do. That was a position that could be quite dangerous, because everything that was discussed here could easily be construed as treason. Thus, any dissenter — or even people who simply showed reluctance to get behind the proposed idea — were immediately suspect and faced with increased scrutiny.

It required a careful balancing act. The instant she went over the line, she would be neutralized. The last thing this little conspiracy needed was someone tattling to the Hokage. It was too bad for Fugaku that if I was right, it had already happened — and directly under his nose, too.

"I could use your help with the tea," I said.

"Of course, Mikoto-sama." We split up and went to a chabudai each. Kneeling in front of it, I placed tea into the kyūsu and poured hot water over it. With the help of two other girls, each of us had to repeat this just three times. This was admittedly a good thing, because it allowed us to return to our first kyūsu in a timely manner. Since we were also practiced in pouring tea, filling the cups of each chabudai didn't take any time at all, ensuring the tea didn't get too strong.

Shortly after I finished and placed the last kyūsu back on the table, murmuring went through the crowd announcing Fugaku's arrival. The people stepped aside to let him pass to the front of the room. Standing up, I took the tablet and took two steps to the nearest cluster of people and handed it to an older woman, and gestured for her and her companions to distribute the cups among the people. I didn't wait for them to start as I made my way to the stone slab.

A cursory glance around the room revealed that while we had prepared tea, the rest of the clan had arrived — at least those of chunin rank and above not on duty. Everyone else was supposed to be in their homes, a precaution Fugaku had put in place since the relationship with the village had gotten worse. I had personally verified that no one in our clan was currently outside the village, meaning that everyone should not only be accounted for, but could be found within the confines of the village. This would admittedly make my self-assigned mission far easier.

When Fugaku emerged from the crowd and noticed me, he frowned. Stepping closer right up to me, his back to the people well outside their hearing range, he — in a low voice — demanded to know, "What are you doing here?"

"My brother informed me that his duties would stop him from participating today, and I thought with the death of my father, someone from our side of the family should be present."

He scoffed at that. "You thought wrong. This had better be the last time you interfere with clan business."

As he turned around, Yuka was standing there, tablet in hand, offering him a cup of tea. Fugaku eyed it suspiciously. It took another prompt from Yuka until he reluctantly took a chataka with a cup for himself. I followed his example when Yuka came to stand in front of me. Thanking her with a nod made her retreat back to the crowd with a smile on her face.

She had done a good job. I wasn't able to spot a single person without their own cup of tea. Not that this was saying much, since my view of the people at the far end was severely limited. Still, I didn't think many would decline a cup of expensive tea, not when their clan leader had gotten one himself. As custom dictated, it was discourteous to refuse to drink with your host, which for all intents and purposes was Fugaku.

So when he moved the cup to his lips, the room followed. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noted that he didn't even wet his lips with the brew and just faked taking a sip. The shinobi paranoia at work — not to drink or eat anything you didn't check for poison. Admittedly, I was sure he wasn't the only one in the room choosing not to drink anything — not that it would make a difference.

Placing the cup back on the chataku, he called Yuka back to him with a wave of his hand and put it down on the tablet.

Meanwhile, I was counting the seconds in my head.

Fugaku was just about to open his mouth and begin with his speech when Yuka wobbled on her feet and was caught by Nagi before she could fall down. Before Nagi — in one of the rare instances she talked — could voice her concern, she, too, lost her balance, and with Yuka in her arms slumped to the ground.

There was barely enough time for the alarm to show on the faces of the older and bigger shinobi when they followed after them to the ground, their bodies paralyzed.

Next to me, Fugaku suffered the same fate as everyone else in the room, leaving me as the sole exception still on her feet.

With my Sharingan active, I swept the room, expecting to be attacked any moment by someone who had avoided getting poisoned. When after several long moments it didn't happen, I brought my hands up in a cross seal and created two Kage-Bunshin.

Reaching into my obi, I took out another scroll, unfurled it, and released its contents: a large stack of palm-sized paralyzing seals. I split them up between my clones and myself. The seals in my hand were put in a breast pocket of my kimono, for ease of access. I resealed the scroll and put it back in my obi. My two clones immediately went to work and turned all the people onto their backs and then placed a seal on their foreheads. After they were applied, they emitted a faint blue glow signifying it was active and the recipients' chakra sealed off.

A precautionary measure, since I simply couldn't rely on the poison to keep them incapacitated as long as required. Contact poisons were unreliable by nature, the amount that gets absorbed through the skin is dependent on too many variables. Someone simply wearing gloves — or the number of fingers used to hold the tea cup — was enough to significantly impact the effectiveness and duration.

It didn't help matters that the poison was applied to the outside of the cup as a thin film of colorless varnish — which would excrete the poison — when the cup temperature went over a certain level. Taking into account different fill levels of the cups and water temperatures, it was impossible to tell how much poison was actually released from the varnish. There was also each individual's constitution to account for, with mass and resistance to poison being the two major factors.

No, the poison alone wouldn't suffice.

I followed behind my clones as they worked through the room and gave every person with a seal a cursory medical scan and sorted them accordingly into two categories before I stored them in my Kamui dimension.

It was a risk I was taking. Despite Kamui being a very convenient storage space, I couldn't risk placing sensitive things in it for a prolonged amount of time — not with Kakashi out there possessing Obito's other eye, which I suspected was connected to the one I possessed. Given the time constraints I was under, my options were limited.

Working in tandem allowed us to go through all the people in a short amount of time despite their numbers.

When the clones were done with their task, they began removing all the remaining evidence: the cups, spilled tea, and dropped items. They were still doing that when the last of the prisoners vanished in a swirl.

There was just one last thing to left to take. With measured steps, I made my way to the front of the room. In spite of my aversion and the questionable usefulness of the stone slab, it was still a relic of our clan, and without all the Sharingan firmly under my control, I couldn't risk leaving it behind. Someone might actually be able to make some sense of it.

Placing my hand on the stone, it joined the prisoners. I gave my clones one last look over my shoulder; it wouldn't take them much longer to finish. This would leave them free to raid and collect all the clan members who weren't here or on duty today — mostly children and the elderly — and the rest of their and the clan's valuables.