YOMI’S DOMAIN

The air was thick with a heavy mist, obscuring our view of the world around us. The sky above was a bleak shade of grey, the clouds so thick that they seemed to press down on us, suffocating and oppressive. The trees that surrounded us were bare and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The ground beneath our feet was slick, and the sound of our footsteps on the wet crystalline floor echoed eerily in the stillness.

There was a deep sense of foreboding that hung over the scene as if the world itself was holding its breath in anticipation of some great tragedy. The silence was only broken by the occasional crackling of bare branches, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. In the desolate sky, a great fractal Mangekyou hung like an august moon, peering through the thick fog as it bathed the world in a reddish tinge. As we walked through the desolate landscape, we felt a sense of unease settle into our bones. It was as if the world around us was conspiring to make us feel small, a mere blip in the grand scheme of things. Insignificant.

The gloom of the scene was almost palpable, weighing heavily on our chakra. The world around us spun. We knew what was happening, but that knowledge did nothing to ease the unease that was gripping us. Under the celestial gaze of our Sharingan, our thoughts became jumbled and confused, and we couldn't seem to focus on anything. Our mind was racing, filled with images and scenarios that only increased our anxiety. It was like a never-ending cycle of fear and panic that we struggled to resist—

“Kai!” Yomi shattered like a broken mirror releasing us from her cruel grasp. Uncontrollable. Unfeeling. Unstoppable. There was no place for the living in the land of the dead, she reminded us. We looked inward, feeling for our chakra and wincing as we perceived the amount of damage we had wrought on our chakra network with just a single use of the technique.

Our breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving with the effort of staying on our feet, movements slow and laboured. We caressed our face, wiping away the line of blood that dripped freely from our left eye, staining the ground beneath our feet. The light in the eye felt dimmer, weaker, somewhat. Truly, she was a cruel, selfish mistress. We sought so little, yet she took so much in return.

We could feel our strength waning, but it wasn’t over yet. We delved into our mindscape, sensing for our assailant’s partner. He was fleeing, apparently having realised his partner’s failure. ANBU number five chased him for a while before suddenly stopping, a mass of corrosive chakra blocking her path. From the opposite direction came the chakra signature of a group of newcomers. ANBU, most probably, having noticed the inferno blazing through the outskirts of our clan’s district. Our good eye panned to our accursed assailant, one that forced us to resort to taking such drastic measures. Our face a mask of pain, we hopped towards the man where he lay on the rooftop, falling to our knees by his side.

We tore off his mask before locking our good eye with his catatonic ones, Sharingan flaring with malice as we placed his broken mind under a Genjutsu. Without a will to stop us, we puppeteered his psyche, forcing some semblance of sentience unto him.

“Why do you want me dead?” we asked.

“Ugh…” his reforged mind moaned back in response. This would be harder than we projected, we suddenly realised. Yomi had claimed her dues and her greed seems to know no bounds; all that was left of our assailant was but a tattered soul in a husk of meat and bones.

“...Who sent you?” we tried again, moulding more chakra into the Genjutsu construct that puppeteered the fellow’s psyche.

“...Dan—,” the husk began before we lost our grip on the construct; the shinobi’s face went slack, his tongue lopping out to reveal a strange seal in the shape of three solid lines and two broken ones extending from the back of the organ to the tip. The seal seized the corpse’s entire chakra network, inadvertently dispelling the Genjutsu. We looked down at the body, feeling a cold rage simmering at the sight. The fellow’s mind was already on the precepts of collapse; any more meddling of that scale would simply cause it to collapse completely. With a sigh we attempted to erase the fellow’s memory of our fight, failing spectacularly at cleaning the sections that contained the echoes of Yomi; instead, we simply sealed the thrice sage-damned thing before hopping down from the rooftop to lean on a nearby wall, kunai in hand.

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“Always on time, ANBU-san,” we say with a lilt as we turned to face the new arrivals, ANBU number five had at some point joined them. She stood in the rear looking a bit worse for wear. “Always on time.”

***

The council hall was empty save one ANBU who watched us warily. Word must spread fast amongst their ranks given the amount of apprehension with which he beheld us. We sat on a waiting bench, by a thick double door to our left. The door had an intricate leaf pattern carved underneath a thin layer of lacquer. Despite its pristine appearance, it was probably as much of a relic as some of the council members themselves were. Lazily, we dragged our gaze to the open window, watching as the sun slowly climbed up the northern slope of the cloudy sky.

With a sigh, we closed our eyes, leaning back to feel the cool touch of the wood-panelled wall on our back. The hall was near-completely silent. Silent enough that we could listen past the cool morning breeze. Past the soft chittering of squirrels in the distant trees. Past the soft thud of a nut falling from the canopy. There, hidden beneath all that racket was a soft, slow heartbeat. Rhythmic, gentle and distinct. A ninja. Another a few paces behind them. A few more in the distance; about five in total.

We opened our eyes at the sound of a door opening. Another ANBU walked out of the halls’ inner chamber, looking at us. “Come,” he said simply before turning around to return.

We rose to our feet and followed. As we reached the threshold of the inner hall the world suddenly fell silent. Sound-repelling seals for soundproofing, we observed. It was similar to the ones in our district’s inner sanctums. Crossing the threshold, the voices came to us, loud and angry. Our eyes panned across the room, Sharingan taking and processing every detail before instantly fading out. It was a large, but sparsely furnished room; lanterns sat on a large and long table set before nine large chairs; Sarutobi sat on the largest, Danzo Shimura, Mitokado Homura, Utatane Koharu and Shibi Aburame on his right in that order, and Inoichi Yamanaka, Shikaku Nara, Choza Akimichi and Haishi Hyuga on his left, also in that order.

We abruptly realised the council had fallen silent as all nine council members sat staring at us incredulously.

“What?” we asked.

“You see what I mean!” Koharu shouted, pointing a bony finger at us. “He has no regard, no respect for the council or the Leaf! Accursed Uchiha spawn!”

We were confused. Seemingly noticing our confusion, Sarutobi sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Do you not know it is a breach of social conduct to display a Kekkei Genkai in a gathering such as this one, Sasuke-kun?”

“No, Hokage-sama, I am just six so I hope I can be forgiven for not being aware of this fact as I have no one to properly instruct me on such matters. Also, I was very recently attacked by a Jōnin-ranked member of the Yamanaka clan and only barely survived; I hope you can forgive me for being cautious, Hokage-sama.”

The hall fell silent again.

“...Are you certain of the veracity of these words, Sasuke-kun?”

“Of course, Hokage-sama,” we said, turning to face Inoichi. “The fellow performed the technique-specific hand seals used for executing the Mind Transfer Jutsu. And as we all know only people belonging to the Yamanaka Clan are taught this technique. I wonder what my Uchiha clan has ever done to offend the Yamanakas so for them to so openly desire to assassinate its patriarch.”

“Patriarch!?” Koharu squawked in disbelief. “The gall!”

“Am I not the oldest living male member of the Uchiha Clan? By duty, custom and tradition, I am the Uchiha Patriarch.

“Your vile brother lives, boy,” the accursed hag sneered. “You are no patriarch.”

We stared silently at the woman for a few moments before looking back to Inoichi. “Mind yourself, Koharu. I tolerate you only because of the seat you hold in this council. But please do not forget, my noble clan’s matters are well beyond the onus of your post.”

The woman snapped but we had already tuned her out, turning to stare silently at the Yamanaka patriarch. The man stared back, his gaze cold. “We have no standing conflict with the Uchihas," he said finally after Sarutobi succeeded in silencing the old hag. “Fuu’s decision was entirely his own.”

“Does the Yamanaka clan disown him then?” we ask.

“...Yes.”

“Then you would have no problem if my Uchiha clan deals with what remains of him as we deem fit?”

“Fuu would remain in the custody of the ANBU division until further notice,” Sarutobi interrupted with a tired sigh. “This matter would be investigated further. You may return to your domicile, Uchiha-san.”

“By your will, Hokage-sama.”

As we rose to our feet, our gaze panned across the assembled councilmen, pausing for a moment on Shimura’s oddly withering gaze. “...I would advise this incident not to repeat itself,” we said to no one in particular as we turned to leave. “I would hate to have to kill any more of Konoha’s shinobi to make the world understand that the Uchiha clan would not be snuffed without dire repercussions.”

And on that note, we departed the council presence.