Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

A thick, oppressive silence drowned the room.

The air, already heavy with unresolved tension from their earlier meeting, seemed to press down harder in the wake of Daichi's words. The single oil lamp flickering in the corner of the office cast their elongated shadows against the walls, making them look like ghosts of the past, lurking in the dark corners of Uchiha history.

Elder Toka was the first to break the silence.

His voice came out in a sharp whisper, disbelieving yet urgent, as if uttering the words too loudly would summon an unseen catastrophe.

"What did you say?"

His weathered face was drawn tight, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of the lamp, but the light did nothing to soften his stern gaze. He was sure that he had misheard.

He had to have misheard.

But the quiet certainty in Fugaku's voice crushed that hope.

"Renjiro's eyes," Fugaku repeated. "They've evolved. Father has seen them."

Toka's eyes snapped to Daichi, fury flashing within them. "And you kept this from me?"

Daichi, sighed through his nose, his expression unreadable beneath the dim lighting. He didn't flinch, nor did he react to the accusatory tone.

 "I learned of it recently. Would you have preferred I spread it like gossip? Let the ANBU sniff it out?"

Toka's jaw clenched.

"Recently?" he echoed, voice laced with restrained anger. "And yet you chose to sit on such critical information?"

Fugaku, who had been listening in silence, finally stepped in.

"Elder Toka, you must understand," he interjected, voice measured but firm. "Father was right to be cautious. Information like this… It could tip the entire clan's power structure overnight."

Toka exhaled sharply, eyeing the father-son duo for a long, scrutinizing moment.

Then, begrudgingly, he gave a slight nod, his expression still tight.

"This… changes things," Toka admitted. "The succession. The clan's standing in Konoha. Our plans—"

"Our plans remain," Daichi cut in, voice like a whetstone on steel. "Renjiro is a tool. A sharp one, yes—but tools don't wield themselves."

A long pause settled between them, heavy and full of implications.

Then, Toka muttered, "But… h-how?"

His voice was no longer just laced with disbelief—there was something else there.

Dread.

Daichi rose from his seat, his shadow stretching grotesquely across the Uchiha crest embroidered into the back wall. His silhouette distorted, almost as if the weight of his burden twisted it into something unnatural.

"He says that it's because he is half-Uchiha… and half-Uzumaki," Daichi stated.

Toka's face contorted. "Don't tell me you swallowed that tripe!"

"tap! tap! tap!"

Daichi's fingers drummed the table, a metronome of controlled ire

"No," Daichi said flatly. "The boy is spouting nonsense. But I could not push him too far. Not yet."

Fugaku leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. "You think he would turn on us?"

Daichi's gaze didn't waver. "I think he's at his limit." He exhaled slowly. "And we still need him."

Toka slumped against the wall, rubbing his temple as if this new revelation had physically drained him. "If the Hokage discovers this…"

"He won't." Daichi's voice was ironclad, an absolute statement with no room for argument. His gaze darkened. "Not unless one of you fools hands him the truth."

Toka's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't argue.

Instead, he sighed, then asked, "Do you at least know what his Mangekyō does? We need to assess the threat level."

Daichi exhaled a long, weary sound and closed his eyes. The exhaustion of the conversation seemed to settle onto his shoulders, but when he opened his eyes again, a crimson glow bathed the room.

His Sharingan spun lazily, reflecting the dim lighting in its hypnotic spirals.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his tone deceptively light.

Fugaku narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Daichi turned slightly, his gaze shifting to the wall, where their shadows danced like wraiths.

"They are definitely going to use him," he said. "As a candidate."

The room seemed to drop in temperature.

Toka stilled, the weight of those words sinking into his aged bones. Fugaku inhaled sharply but didn't argue. He couldn't.

They had all known this was a possibility.

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Then, almost in unison, both Fugaku and Toka sighed.

The title of Uchiha Clan Head was not inherited like a feudal lord, Daimyo's, throne.

It was earned.

Though Daichi's father and grandfather had both been clan heads, it was not bloodline alone that had secured their positions. The Uchiha demanded strength, strategy, and merit, and every generation had to prove itself. Daichi's own ascension had come over the bodies of three cousins.

Initially, Renjiro had been considered a separate generation from Fugaku. With almost two decades between them, there had been no reason to compare them directly.

But Renjiro had changed the equation, showing that power knew no age.

A jonin at a young age, someone who had gone toe-to-toe with a Jinchūriki, and now—someone with the Mangekyō Sharingan.

Renjiro—the orphaned half-blood, the outsider—was a storm on the horizon. A storm Fugaku couldn't weather.

Fugaku broke the silence first. "From the meeting earlier… some of the elders already consider Renjiro an outsider." His voice was measured, carefully optimistic. "That makes things easier for us than we originally thought."

Toka scoffed, his tone edged with cynicism.

"Don't delude yourself," the elder muttered, folding his arms. "Everyone in this clan is self-serving. Their loyalties shift depending on what benefits them the most."

His dark eyes glinted under the flickering light.

"It's all just a matter of opportunity. If Renjiro becomes useful to them, those same elders who called him an outsider will suddenly find a way to justify his existence in the clan."

A bitter chuckle escaped him.

"It's the same as always."

Daichi, still standing, let out a slow, measured exhale. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried a hard edge when he finally spoke.

"A leader," Daichi said, "cannot afford to please everyone. Leadership is leverage. And Renjiro… he's a fulcrum."

His gaze darkened.

"Once the whole clan finds out about this… they will smell blood. And when the wolves catch the scent, they will attack, using Renjiro as a means to advance their own interests."

The weight of his words settled over the room like a shroud.

Fugaku's fingers twitched against the wooden surface of the table.

He stared at his father, really stared, for the first time in years. The man who'd drilled all sorts of jutsus into him until his hands bled. The man who'd watched, impassive, as Fugaku buried his mother. Now, in Daichi's eyes, he saw the truth—a truth that curdled his stomach.

"You don't believe I stand a chance against him," he said.

It wasn't a question.

The air froze between them.

Daichi's mouth parted, but then—just as quickly—he shut it, his jaw clenching as though he had almost let something irreversible slip out.

Fugaku's stomach tightened, the weight of his father's silence hitting harder than any spoken confirmation.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick, something that could choke the breath from a lesser man.

Toka, sensing the brewing storm between father and son, cleared his throat.

His voice, though still serious, had a pointed neutrality to it.

"What we really need to know," he said, cutting through the heavy silence, "is if the boy even wants to become the next Clan Head."

=====

Bless me with your powerful Power Stones.

Your Reviews and Comments about my work are welcomed

If you can, then please support me on Patreon. 

Link - www.patreon.com/SideCharacter

You Can read more chapters ahead on Patreon.