One evening, after a long day of working on sealing techniques, Fugaku returned home to find his father, Kogaku, waiting for him in the living room. Kogaku’s face held a somber expression, a look that stirred a memory buried deep in Fugaku's mind. It was the same expression he’d last seen when his mother had passed—a quiet, painful sadness.

Kogaku spoke softly, “Fugaku, Ueno was killed in action in the Land of Rain. The funeral is tomorrow. Prepare yourself.”

A sharp pain struck Fugaku’s chest. Arashi Uchiha had been more than just an ally; he was someone his father had personally trained, almost like family. The last time they’d spoken, Arashi had proudly talked about fighting for the Uchiha clan, his voice filled with confidence and determination. 'He was so hopeful, so devoted to our clan,' Fugaku thought, trying to grasp the weight of this sudden loss.

Kogaku’s usual pride and strength as the clan’s leader softened, revealing a more vulnerable side. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and his face, which was usually set in a firm, commanding expression, had softened, showing a hint of the sorrow he usually kept hidden.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Father. I’ll be ready for tomorrow,” Fugaku replied quietly.

War was merciless. Every few days, another body returned to the village, a harsh reminder of the price paid for Konoha’s peace. Funerals had become so common that only close family and friends attended most of them. Each fallen ninja had died for Konoha, for their family, and for peace.

In the days following, Fugaku pushed himself in his training and studies, diving deeper into sealing and illusion techniques. His dedication did not go unnoticed, and one day, a messenger arrived at his home, requesting his presence at the Hokage’s office.

Upon arrival, Fugaku was led into a quiet room where Orochimaru awaited him. The Sannin’s golden eyes sparkled with interest as he observed the young Uchiha.

“So, you’re Fugaku Uchiha. I’ve heard of your progress in the Land of Rain. You seem skilled with both the Sharingan and sealing techniques.”

Fugaku felt a mixture of caution and curiosity. Orochimaru was a powerful figure in Konoha, known for his skill and intelligence. “Thank you, Lord Orochimaru. I’m still learning, but I aim to improve.”

Orochimaru’s smile was thin, almost predatory. “There is always room for improvement, young Uchiha. Tell me, have you considered exploring your bloodline’s potential? The Sharingan has… many secrets.”

Fugaku kept his expression calm, though he sensed Orochimaru’s intense interest. “I’m focused on growing stronger for myself and my clan.”

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Orochimaru gave a soft nod. “Good. That resolve will serve you well. If you ever wish to dig deeper into your studies, come to me. I am very interested in what you might discover.” With that, he turned away, leaving Fugaku with a feeling of both opportunity and danger.

As he left the Hokage’s office, Fugaku’s thoughts churned. Meeting Orochimaru had been both inspiring and unsettling. He knew that, despite Orochimaru’s offer, he needed to tread carefully. The path to power was steep and risky, but he was more determined than ever to see it through—for his clan, for Konoha, and for those who had given their lives.

In the early morning light, Fugaku and his father, Kogaku, dressed quietly in black funeral clothes, each holding a white flower. For once, Kogaku didn’t go to the police headquarters; instead, he walked alongside Fugaku, joining the silent procession of Uchiha clansmen gathering outside their homes. Together, they moved quietly through the village, heading toward Konoha’s cemetery.

At the memorial stone, a crowd had already gathered—civilians, fellow ninjas, and family members. Fugaku’s gaze swept over the faces, stopping on a figure standing apart. Orochimaru, with his long black hair, pale skin, and golden eyes, wore a solemn expression. He met Fugaku’s gaze, and they exchanged respectful nods before turning their attention back to the ceremony.

Fugaku hadn’t expected Orochimaru to attend. Though known for his cold efficiency, the current Orochimaru still held a sense of camaraderie for his fellow shinobi. While he would later dive into forbidden arts, at this point, he was loyal to Konoha and dedicated to his teacher, the Third Hokage. It was likely that he and Danzo had already started working together in secret, though their darker plans had yet to unfold.

As Fugaku stood in silence, thoughts drifted through his mind. He knew that someday, he would unlock the Mangekyou Sharingan, but its power came with a cost—overuse could lead to blindness. To stabilize this power, he would need the First Hokage’s cells. Uchiha Madara had used specially-created bodies with Hashirama’s cells to help Obito control the Mangekyou without fear of blindness. This realization spurred Fugaku’s own plans.

Rumors were spreading about Konoha’s interest in recreating the First Hokage’s Wood Release. Fugaku suspected that ambitious individuals would push for research into Hashirama’s cells. Tsunade, the First Hokage’s granddaughter, was the only known descendant of Hashirama, which limited the village’s options. Still, Fugaku suspected some people would pursue the experiments regardless. When that time came, Fugaku planned to be ready, determined to secure any advantage for his clan’s future.

The funeral began, pulling Fugaku from his thoughts. He glanced at the Uchiha clansmen around him, many of whom wept silently. A pang of bitterness hit him as he looked at Arashi Uchiha’s name engraved on the memorial stone—a stark reminder of the sacrifices made for Konoha’s strength.

Kogaku kept his face impassive as he gazed at Arashi’s name, though Fugaku could see the sorrow in his eyes. Kogaku had always upheld the clan’s dignity, but now, he allowed himself a brief moment of grief for his fallen comrade.

As the service ended, mourners placed their white flowers on the memorial stone, paying tribute to those who had fallen. Kogaku quickly returned to his duties as head of the Police unit. Fugaku, too, prepared to leave, but a quiet voice stopped him.

“Fugaku.”

Turning, Fugaku saw Orochimaru, his gaze as calm and unreadable as ever. His voice was smooth, carrying a strange, lingering weight. “Senior Orochimaru,” Fugaku replied respectfully.