The Fire Passed Down Through Generations of the Uchiha Clan

Uchiha Koh knew that although his granddaughter was gentle by nature, she was by no means someone who would bestow kindness without reason.

The orphans in Konohagakure who had lost their parents for various reasons were indeed pitiful, but there was no shortage of Uchiha clansmen who had lost their guardians at a young age either.

Even though the Uchiha clan had always been wealthy, their household was vast and their expenses flowed like water.

Furthermore, according to the three major rules recognized by most ninja—no alcohol, no extravagance, and no lust—

The clan's welfare system for orphans without a source of income was actually no different from how they treated ordinary civilians; it was not particularly generous.

However, after Uchiha Ren awakened his Three Tomoe Sharingan, this situation changed quietly.

As he gradually gained a voice within the clan and began to make his influence felt, the ordinary members of the Hawk Faction opened shops one after another, introducing many novel goods never before seen in Konohagakure.

The quality of life for the Hawk Faction members visibly rose—

While it couldn't be called extravagant, new clothes and high-quality ninja tools had become standard equipment.

With full pockets and decent attire, the entire spirit of the Hawk Faction had taken on a brand-new look.

What made Uchiha Koh ponder and feel concerned was that, almost at the same time, his own granddaughter, Mikoto, had begun similar arrangements.

She not only kept pace with the development of the Hawk Faction but also continuously funded several orphanages.

She even extended an olive branch to the many Uchiha clansmen living scattered outside the village, including those women who had married into other clans.

Because the clansmen were always proud, there were not many women who had married out.

But over the decades, the Uchiha bloodline descendants, through various relatives, exceeded three hundred people.

Even if the probability of these mixed-blood clansmen awakening the family's Sharingan was not high, most of them possessed the aptitude to become ninjas.

Over the years, quite a few had become chunin, and the most outstanding among them was none other than Uchiha Hazuki, who possessed the Three Tomoe.

For the overall strength of the Dove Faction, this was a tremendous supplement.

Upon hearing this, Uchiha Mikoto's eyes curved into crescent moons, and she gently placed her chopsticks on the edge of her bowl.

As she stood up, the sleeves of the house kimono she had changed into brushed against the edge of the table, carrying a faint floral scent.

"Grandfather, how could I be hiding anything from you? Everything I do, haven't you been watching it all along?"

The young girl's slender, white fingers brushed the edges of the bowls and dishes, her movements as fluid as flowing water.

The leftovers were carefully placed on the left side of the tray, the bowls and chopsticks were stacked in order of size, and she wiped the table with a cotton cloth after clearing every piece of tableware.

The light shone on her lowered eyelashes, reflecting a gentle curve at the corners of her eyes.

Watching his granddaughter's deliberate avoidance, the words stuck in Koh's chest turned into a complaint filled with jealousy and envy.

"Truly, a grown daughter is no longer one's own."

He pushed himself up by his knees, his wooden sandals making a dull echo on the stairs.

Mikoto's earlobes turned slightly red. She kept her head down, pretending not to hear her grandfather's dissatisfaction, and hummed a nursery rhyme Ren had taught her.

Amidst the sound of running water, she turned the washed porcelain bowls upside down in a bamboo basket to drain, every movement extremely practiced—

It was the composure born from frequently handling household chores, and even more so, a sweet longing for her future life.

Compared to the life of a ninja filled with killing, Mikoto hoped she could become a wife who supported her husband and raised their children, taking care of the family she loved deeply.

When she wiped the stove and looked up, her warm black eyes swept over the sunflowers Ren had sent, which were stuck in a potted plant.

It was as if she could already see the figure of her beloved sitting at the dining table that would belong to them in the future.

Uchiha Koh walked slowly up the creaking stairs, the candlelight in the corridor stretching his shadow long and short.

He pushed open the sliding door of the room at the end of the hall, and the moonlight was spilling onto the shrine through the window lattice—

Two portraits were enshrined side by side there, the edges of the frames still retaining the luster of careful polishing.

"Keita, Reiko..."

He knelt on the cushion and took three incense sticks from the incense box.

As the flame flickered at his fingertips, the scent of sandalwood gradually permeated the air.

"Mikoto has a man she loves. It's Ren from the Setsuna family, that child you only met once."

The incense smoke spiraled upward, brushing past the firm brows of the son and the gentle smile of the daughter-in-law in the photos.

"People often say that the dead turn into stars in the sky. I wonder if you can see it from up there?"

"The look in Mikoto's eyes when she mentions Ren is exactly the same as when you were about to marry Keita."

"Both were just as happy."

Koh reached out and stroked the cold glass of the photo frame, his knuckles turning slightly white from the pressure.

"The clan is slowly changing. Those bloody events of the past... are finally about to be pushed aside by new buds."

In the past clan wars, every faction of the Uchiha had been stained with the blood of their own kin.

It was ironic to say, but for a clan that cherished love above all else, when they turned on each other, they struck harder than anyone!

Under those scarlet, cold tomoe, it seemed there was no one in the world who could not be killed.

The wind chime under the eaves suddenly rang softly, and Koh looked up at the hydrangea bushes in the courtyard, soaked in moonlight and swaying in the night breeze.

"I just don't know if these old bones of mine will still be around to see Mikoto in her wedding dress..."

"Heh, Kirigakure of the Land of Water."

Uchiha Koh's thoughts gradually drifted away from his family, finally settling on the Kirigakure forces they were about to clash with.

His gaze fell heavily upon the dust-covered armor in the corner, the mottled lacquer still revealing the cold glint characteristic of tempered iron.

Deep within his clouded pupils, a splash of blood-red suddenly erupted, and three tomoe slowly rotated in the darkness, staining the moonlight filling the room a deep crimson.

"The blades of Kirigakure..."

The roar of clashing steel surged within his aged voice; he chuckled softly at the armor, the wrinkles of his face shedding forty years of war and hardship.

"It is only fitting that this old man's Sharingan meets the secret techniques of the Land of Water once more."

"Where the leaves of Konohagakure dance, fire shall burn. The fire will continue to illuminate the village and allow new leaves to sprout."

"This 'fire' is the fire that the Uchiha have passed down for generations!"

The old man's proud and firm words dissipated into the night along with the wind.

Downstairs, Uchiha Mikoto finished tidying the dining room and took out a calming tea powder blended from lavender and matcha.

The mountain spring water, just beginning to boil in the copper kettle, frothed into a dense foam, and the swirling steam blurred the bright moon outside the window.

The teacup on the tray rippled slightly with her footsteps, and the cypress staircase emitted a perfectly rhythmic sound.

She paused before the sliding door, seeing her grandfather's silhouette cast against the shoji screen through the washi paper.

For some reason, that posture carried the biting chill of a ninja blade being drawn from its sheath.

Is Grandfather thinking of the past again?

Memories of her parents had long since blurred with the passage of time, leaving only a few fragmented pieces from her childhood.

Raised with love and tolerance, Mikoto felt a touch of sadness in her heart, but more than that, she possessed a calm strength.

She stood at the doorway, her voice as soft as a spring breeze.

"Grandfather, it's time to have a cup of milk tea and get some rest."