KONOHA

It’s been several months—nearly half a year—since our first exercise with Kakashi. Apparently, our performance was so far from the Jōnin-sensei’s expectation that the man was conflicted as to whether or not to continue as our instructor. Thankfully, the Hokage was able to talk some sense into him and prevent him from doing something foolish.

Contrary to our earlier expectations, we would very much prefer the shinobi remain within arm's length of us for the foreseeable future. A Sharingan capable of resisting the influence of our own for as long as his did, despite not being in the possession of its original owner, could not be just any ordinary Dojutsu. Keeping an eye on it could prove to be a rather prudent decision in future.

During the weeks following the exercise, we were issued our first missions. D-rank, of course; all of which would have proven absolutely useless had we not required a plausible excuse to interact with Konoha’s civilian social infrastructure, as well as, the more valuable members of its mundane populace. Even with Kakashi’s strict supervision, and the oversight of our, secretive but perpetually present ANBU watchmen, profiteering from this windfall didn’t prove to be much of a hassle.

Over the years we had perfected our mastery of subtle Genjutsu, a technique that had long proven itself indispensable in our arsenal for soliciting confidential information discreetly. It was, to an extent, effective even against Jōnin as our experiments with Kakashi during the bell test had proven. Though, in hindsight, our decision to so blatantly experiment on the shinobi was a poorly thought-out one. We could see the phantom of an invisible hand guiding us away from more lucrative targets, evidently in response to our strategic blunder.

It was fine though. The losses weren’t that important in the grand scheme of things. These days, very few things truly were. We wiped the last smudges of dirt from the kitchen cabinet before putting aside the cleaning supplies we had been using. We washed our hands before drying them with a thick towel as we leaned against the exit in scrutiny of our work. That was the last of our chores for the day.

Content with the spotless nature of our domicile, we made our way for the bathroom, only exiting the cubicle nine minutes and thirty-four seconds later. Changing into a fresh set of clothes took exactly five minutes while combing out the knots in hair took another seven. For us grooming was a slow, methodical process. A ritual.

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Unlike most, we were not just representing ourselves; we were the face of the Uchiha clan, hence, it would be dishonourable of us to let our appearance be anything but impeccable.

Exiting our domicile, we stopped by the Naka Shrine to pay our respects. Inside was a Mitamaya bearing a stone tablet engraved with the names of every single one of our lost clansmen. It’s been a year since we last performed these rites. From the sleeve of our kimono, we retrieved a Fūinjutsu scroll. Tossing it into the air, we bit the tip of our left thumb before letting our hands flash through a series of hand signs. The falling scroll unfurled as it descended, revealing its blank inner surface over which we painted a few kanji characters with blood. Our chakra churned and the scroll exploded in a cloud of white smoke as the technique took hold, erecting a barrier within the shrine. Immediately, the ANBU at the fringes of our perception disappeared, the barrier isolating us from the outside world.

Thankful for the hard-won reprieve, we knelt before the stone tablet, a lit incense appearing in our right hand as we whispered an orison in honour of the fallen. The prayer lasted only a few minutes after which we rose and made our way towards the seventh tatami mat in the room. We carefully folded it aside and underneath was a perfectly mundane-looking stone tile. We knew better than to be deceived by appearances though. Our hands formed the snake seal, Sharingan whirring into place as we performed the Naka Shrine Pass Technique.

We felt a steady drain on our chakra as Fūinjutsu seals formed on the floor. The floor rumbled as the stone tile rose, revealing itself to in fact be a stone slab about two meters thick. The slab levitated into the air and beneath was a flight of stairs leading beneath the shrine’s very foundation. We descended into the darkness, moulding our chakra before attributing elemental fire to its nature. We raised a hand, a small flame appearing in our palm before splitting and shooting towards a pair of torches at the end of the room.

The secret chamber was a small cubicle with a pair of our clan’s signature uchiwa[A.N.: fan] painted on the opposite wall. Beneath them was a blank stone tablet. Heeding our summons, our Mangekyō, for the first time in years revealed itself, and under its divine light, the stone tablet’s message was illuminated.

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

Yes, we hissed in the privacy of our mind.

We had waited many, many months. Patiently. In preparation to see what lay in this room. Thankfully, we were not disappointed. Not in the least.