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 dispensed kindness without reason.

Orphans in Konoha who had lost their parents for one reason or another were certainly pitiful, but there was no shortage of Uchiha Clan members who had lost their parents in childhood as well.

Even though the Uchiha Clan had always possessed considerable wealth, it was a large family with vast undertakings, and expenses flowed like water.

Moreover, according to the three major rules recognized by most shinobi—no drinking, no extravagance, no lust.

The clan's welfare system did not treat orphans without a source of income any more generously than ordinary civilians.

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

As he gradually gained a voice within the clan and began making his own views heard, ordinary members of the Hawk Faction opened shops one after another, introducing many novel goods Konoha had never seen before.

The Hawk Faction clansmen's quality of life visibly rose—

It could not be called luxurious, but new clothes and high-quality ninja tools had become standard equipment.

With full purses and respectable attire, the entire Hawk Faction took on a completely new look.

What concerned Uchiha Koh even more, after giving it some thought, was that almost at the same time, his granddaughter Mikoto had begun making similar arrangements.

Not only had she kept pace with the Hawk Faction's development, but she had also continuously funded several orphanages.

She had even extended an olive branch of return to many Uchiha clansmen living elsewhere, including women who had married into other clans.

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

Yet after several decades, the number of Uchiha blood descendants connected through kinship had surpassed three hundred.

Although these clansmen with mixed bloodlines did not have a high chance of awakening the Sharingan, most of them possessed the aptitude to become shinobi.

Over the years, quite a few had become Chunin. The most outstanding among them was Uchiha Hazuki, who possessed Three Tomoe.

This was an enormous supplement to the Dove Faction's overall strength.

Hearing this, Uchiha Mikoto's eyes curved like crescent moons as she gently stacked the chopsticks in her hands along the rim of the bowl.

As she stood, the sleeves of the casual kimono she had changed into earlier brushed across the table's edge, carrying a faint floral fragrance.

"Grandfather, how could I possibly hide anything from you? Haven't you watched everything I've done?"

The girl's slender, pale fingers swept over the edges of the bowls and plates, her movements smooth and flowing.

The leftovers were carefully arranged on the left side of the tray, while the bowls and chopsticks were stacked in order of size. Each time she put away a piece of tableware, she wiped the table with a cotton cloth.

The lamplight fell across her lowered lashes, casting a gentle curve at the corners of her eyes.

Watching his granddaughter deliberately evade the matter, the words clogged in Huoke's chest turned into a complaint tinged with jealousy and envy.

"A grown daughter can't be kept at home."

He rose with a hand braced on his knee, his wooden clogs producing dull echoes as they stepped upon the stairs.

Mikoto's ears reddened slightly. Lowering her head, she pretended not to hear her grandfather's dissatisfaction and hummed the nursery rhyme Ren had taught her.

Amid the sound of running water, she placed the washed porcelain bowls upside down in a bamboo basket to drain, every movement exceedingly practiced—

It was the calm ease cultivated through frequently managing household chores, as well as a sweet longing for her future life.

Compared to a shinobi who fought and killed, Mikoto hoped to become a wife who supported her husband and raised their children, caring for the family she dearly loved.

As she wiped the stove, she looked up, her warm black eyes passing over the sunflower Ren had sent, planted in a flowerpot.

It was as though she could already see her beloved sitting beside the dining table that would one day belong to them.

Uchiha Koh slowly climbed the creaking stairs, the corridor's candlelight stretching and shortening his shadow.

He pushed open the sliding door of the tatami room at the end of the hall. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice onto the shrine—

Two memorial portraits stood side by side there, their frames still gleaming from careful polishing.

"Keita, Reiko..."

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

As the flame flickered between his fingertips, the scent of agarwood gradually spread through the room.

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

The incense smoke curled upward, passing over the resolute brows of his son in the photograph and his daughter-in-law's gentle smile.

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

"When Mikoto speaks of Ren, the expression on her face is exactly the same as when you wanted to marry Keita."

"She is just as happy."

Koh reached out and stroked the cold glass of the frame, his knuckles paling slightly from the force.

"The clan is slowly changing. Those bloodstained affairs of the past... will finally be pushed aside by new shoots."

During the clan's bloody conflicts of the past, Uchiha from every faction had stained their hands with the blood of their own kin.

What an irony. A clan that treasured love above all else struck harder than anyone when slaughtering their own brothers and sisters!

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

The wind chime beneath the eaves suddenly rang softly. Koh raised his eyes toward the hydrangeas in the courtyard, soaked in moonlight and swaying in the night breeze.

"I just wonder whether these old bones of mine will live to see the day Mikoto puts on her wedding dress..."

"Heh, Kirigakure of the Land of Water."

Uchiha Koh's thoughts gradually withdrew from his family and finally settled on Kirigakure, the village they were about to confront.

His heavy gaze fell upon the dust-covered suit of armor in the corner. Through its mottled lacquer still shone the cold gleam unique to iron.

A bloody light suddenly burst from the depths of his clouded eyes. Three tomoe slowly rotated in the darkness, dyeing the roomful of moonlight crimson.

"Kirigakure's blades..."

The aged voice surged with the thunder of clashing weapons and charging horses. He smiled at the armor, and forty years of war and hardship shook loose from the wrinkles on his face.

"Perfect. Let this old man's Sharingan have another meeting with the secret arts of the Land of Water."

"Wherever the leaves of Konoha dance, fire also burns without end. Its light will continue illuminating the village and let new leaves sprout."

"This 'fire' is the 'fire' passed down through generations of the Uchiha Clan!"

The old man's proud, unwavering words scattered into the dark night with the wind.

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

Freshly boiling spring water in a copper kettle broke through the thick milk foam, and the mist blurred the bright moon beyond the window.

The teacups on the tray rippled faintly with her steps, while the cypress stairs gave off soft, measured creaks.

She stopped before the sliding door and saw her grandfather's silhouette cast upon the shoji through the washi paper.

For some reason, that figure carried the icy sharpness of a ninja blade leaving its sheath.

"Has Grandfather remembered the past again?"

Her memories of her parents had long faded with the years, leaving behind only a few fragmented scenes from childhood.

Having grown up in love and acceptance, Mikoto carried sorrow in her heart, but even more than that, she possessed calm strength.

Standing at the door, her voice was soft as a spring breeze.

"Grandfather, it's time for a cup of milk tea. You should rest early."