Uchiha Kai sat quietly in the corner, silently observing the conversation unfold. By now, he had a clear grasp of the political fault lines within the clan.
As he suspected, the Uchiha were divided into two distinct ideological camps.
Both factions ultimately aimed to protect the interests of the Uchiha clan—but their methods for dealing with Konoha's leadership diverged significantly.
The hardline faction, often dubbed the "hawks," favored a forceful, uncompromising stance. As co-founders of the village, they believed the Uchiha had long been denied their rightful status. These members sought to elevate the clan beyond its current limitations, no longer content with the token authority granted through the Konoha Military Police Force.
This militant ideology dominated the clan's mainstream. It would be a mistake to assume the Uchiha were fools—though many were prideful or erratic, there remained a shrewd minority who clearly understood the power structure at play.
These sharper minds recognized the police force for what it truly was: not a symbol of trust, but a gilded cage. Were it not for the influence the force afforded within the village, some of them might have already suggested abandoning it altogether.
This deeper awareness gave them a dangerous kind of clarity.
Whether Uchiha Fugaku fully grasped this was uncertain, but Kai certainly did—and he saw opportunity in that uncertainty.
What surprised Kai, however, was that few of the hawks present seemed ready to propose a full-blown coup.
"Is it because the Nine-Tails incident hasn't happened yet?" Kai mused, rubbing his chin. "Or maybe the rumors about the Third Hokage preparing to step down are giving them false hope?"
Either way, Kai wasn't interested. When the suggestion was raised to have Uchiha Fugaku run in the upcoming election for the Fourth Hokage, Kai could only sneer inwardly.
Everyone in the room likely understood Fugaku's chances were slim. And yet, hawks and doves alike supported the idea, leaving Fugaku caught in a political contradiction he couldn't easily escape.
The dove faction, while significantly smaller, hadn't disappeared. They advocated for diplomacy—a peaceful reconciliation with Konoha to restore the clan's honor.
Their reasoning wasn't without merit. With the Third Great Ninja War barely over and Konoha rebuilding, they argued this was a time for cooperation, not confrontation.
But they misjudged the depth of distrust Konoha's leadership—especially the elders and Danzo—harbored toward the Uchiha.
Even the doves avoided speaking favorably of the Third Hokage directly. Instead, they spoke only of "the village," distancing themselves from the man leading it.
They hoped that with Hiruzen Sarutobi's rumored retirement, a new Hokage might be more favorable to the Uchiha. They were determined to prevent Danzo Shimura or any of his ilk from ascending.
It was a hopeful—but naïve—line of thinking. They never questioned whether the clan itself needed to change. Even if they managed to install a Hokage sympathetic to Uchiha concerns, they would still be vastly outnumbered politically.
No matter how powerful, even the greatest shinobi can be taken down by a kunai in the back.
After sitting for over an hour, Kai was beginning to feel bored. Initially, the meeting had been amusing—a chance to observe the posturing of powerful men—but now it felt more like watching a bad play long past its prime.
Neither faction, he realized, truly grasped the heart of the matter.
The real problem wasn't just with the village's leadership. It was with the village itself. The common people didn't trust the Uchiha, and no amount of posturing or diplomacy would change that overnight.
When the conversation again turned to nominating Fugaku for the Hokage position, Kai nearly rolled his eyes.
Only the stiff look on Fugaku's face gave him a moment of private amusement.
Then something unexpected happened.
A man rose from the crowd, drawing everyone's attention.
"Lord Patriarch," the man said firmly, "participating in the selection of the Fourth Hokage is the hope of all of us. I ask that you give it due consideration."
"I appreciate your words, Osamu-kun," Fugaku replied, his expression softening slightly. "What is it you wish to say?"
Osamu Uchiha? Kai raised an eyebrow. He'd heard of the man—an elite jōnin known for his valor against Kumogakure during the battles in the Land of Hot Water.
Kai had also served in that region, but he was just a fledgling genin then. Their paths had never crossed.
Osamu's reputation preceded him, though. Along with his younger brother, Uchiha Yū—now one of the three captains of the Police Force—he was a formidable shinobi. Both brothers wielded fully awakened three-tomoe Sharingan, and it was said they had slain countless Kumo-nin during the war.
Most importantly, they were staunch hawks.
Kai didn't know who backed them politically, but it was clear they carried weight within the clan. Their strength alone made them unapproachable, and with influential support, few dared oppose them openly.
Initially, Kai paid Osamu little mind. But when he caught Uchiha Yū casting a subtle glance in his direction, Kai felt a twinge of unease.
"Patriarch," Osamu said gravely, "I wish to speak about Kakashi Hatake."
Kai's expression darkened immediately.
Kakashi again? he thought bitterly. These damned hawks never let up. Is this really their hill to die on—clinging to some perceived insult over bloodline pride?
But Kai's scowl quickly shifted into a cold smile. In the manga, nothing significant ever came of this conflict. Clearly, these men would fail in the end.
Whether this particular scene ever happened was unclear, but one thing was certain—if Kai intended to move forward with his own plan, these men would stand in his way.
Still, Kai wasn't worried.
He glanced at Fugaku, who did not look pleased. Surely Osamu could see it too—but he continued regardless, making his position loud and clear.
That, Kai noted, was its own kind of declaration.
And it wasn't a friendly one.