Uchiha Miyuki brewed tea with deliberate calm.
Since his first kill on the battlefield at age nine, Miyuki had danced on the edge of life and death for six years. The repeated losses of comrades and friends had awakened the Uchiha's ultimate power—the Mangekyō Sharingan. Yet Miyuki could feel his sanity fraying under the relentless torment. Then again, with the Mangekyō, going a little mad is practically tradition.
To stabilize his mind after the war, Miyuki had taken up tea ceremony. No grand philosophy—just a ritual to keep the darkness at bay.
His small residence fell into stillness, broken only by the clink of porcelain.
Kakashi, lacking such patience, cut through the silence: "What did that record you showed me today mean?"
Steam curled from the teapot as Miyuki slid a cup toward him. "Visited Grandma Miori already?"
Kakashi's visible eye narrowed before he nodded. "Yes."
"Visit more often. Clan compensation helps, but loneliness isn't cured by money."
"Just tell me what the report said." Kakashi said.
"And I'll handle any clan members who criticize you. As Clan Head, I've that much authority." Miyuki said as he sipped his tea.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"Uchiha Miyuki!" Kakashi's frustration boiled over.
"Impatient as ever." Miyuki chuckled, gesturing to the untouched tea.
While Miyuki refilled the kettle, Kakashi yanked down his mask, gulped the scalding tea, and covered his face again.
"You…" Miyuki sighed at Kakashi's stifled grimace. "The report's contents are exactly as you saw. We've yet to investigate further."
Setting down his own drained cup, Miyuki continued solemnly: "Though I wasn't born when it happened, the clan remembers. If our elders speak true, the White Fang was a hero. He deserved better than his fate."
Kakashi stiffened. For years, his father's name had been scrubbed from Konoha's history—when mentioned at all, it carried scorn.
"Others may forget, but the Uchiha revere him." Miyuki leaned forward. "No one understands the weight of bonds more than we do."
"…Thank you." Kakashi's voice softened, memories of a loud-mouthed teammate flashing unbidden.
"But new evidence suggests Danzō schemed in the shadows." Miyuki's cup clinked sharply against the table. "The White Fang's death… it wasn't simple."
"The clan debates pursuing this. The White Fang nearly became Fourth Hokage—unearthing this risks awakening old enemies."
Kakashi's brow furrowed. Politics, to a weapon raised on battlefields, felt alien.
Miyuki suppressed a sigh. Kakashi's political capital—the last legacy of the Fourth's inner circle—was precisely what the Uchiha needed.
Why else would the Third keep him in ANBU? The Fourth's orphaned student, the living tether to Konoha's beloved Yellow Flash… Even diminished, those loyal to Minato's memory held power.
Thus, this carefully staged "chance" meeting.
"Regardless, I'll see this through," Miyuki declared.
"Thank you." Kakashi recognized resolve when he heard it.
"Don't. I do this because heroes deserve truth." Miyuki waved him off. "If gratitude moves you, visit Grandma Miori."
As Kakashi moved to leave, Miyuki added: "Oh—collect that Wood Style user from headquarters. ANBU's been pestering us."
Kakashi paused mid-window. "The only Wood Style wielder since the First… Why release him?"
"Because he's a political grenade. Let the Hokage's office handle it."
With a nod, Kakashi vanished into the night.
Alone at the window, Miyuki smiled.
Clearing the White Fang's name would thrust Kakashi into the spotlight—hero's son and Fourth Hokage's disciple. When that day came, the Uchiha, his staunchest allies, would step from shadows to center stage.