Bring Back the Sharingan

The stone chamber was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

The jonin on duty stared at the intelligence report on the table, his face ashen.

At the very end of the conference table, an elderly jonin who had remained silent all along suddenly rose to his feet.

His chair scraped violently backward across the stone floor with a piercing screech.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

The old jonin's face was white as paper, and even his lips were trembling.

His eyes locked onto the two lines on the scroll, then snapped away as though he had been electrocuted.

He gripped his cup so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his entire body shaking uncontrollably.

The supreme commander demanded sharply.

"Speak! What did you find?!"

The old jonin's voice was tight, as if someone were strangling him. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead.

"Commander, this kind of intelligence..."

He suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, his voice terrifyingly hoarse.

"Back then, before our massive Explosive Tag warehouse was blown up, a scroll like this appeared on the table as well."

"The exact same ink marks, the exact same seal!"

The pressure in the stone chamber instantly dropped to its lowest point.

"That time, the higher-ups thought it was a Konoha feint. They spent several days investigating before confirming it."

"But by the time we realized what was happening, our village's high-end combat forces had no time to deploy at all..."

The old jonin's hand shook so badly that he could not even hold his cup steady. Water spilled all over the table.

"You all know the final result."

"That mad dog, Hatake Sakumo—he was alone!"

"He cut through all three defensive lines we took pride in! That Short Sword hacked from beginning to end as easily as