High above the outskirts of Konoha, Obito stood on a tree trunk, wearing the Orange Spiral Mask.
He watched the brightly lit South Street in the distance, utterly bewildered.
Events had unfolded completely beyond his expectations.
Under normal circumstances, once the higher-ups pushed the Uchiha to the fringes, the clan would inevitably harbor resentment.
Once that resentment reached its peak, rebellion would follow naturally.
Yet now, colorful lights hung all over South Street.
The aroma of grilled meat and fried tempura drifted through the streets.
The Land of Fire Daimyo's honor guard paraded brazenly down the street.
Uchiha police officers in brand-new uniforms handed out Special Economic Zone leaflets at intersections, smiles all over their faces.
The members of the Konoha Military Police Force who used to throw their weight around the village now actually volunteered to guide lost elderly people.
Even the diplomatic missions from Sunagakure and Kumogakure obediently lined up to pay their seating fees.
Obito stood in the cold wind for a full two hours.
The longer he watched, the more absurd it seemed.
How were these the Uchiha who were supposedly about to be driven into a corner?
They were plainly a bunch of businessmen establishing an independent trade route.
Uchiha Itachi's reaction had driven him even crazier.
A few days earlier, at the Drill Ground, he had tried to frighten that brat with talk of the clan's destruction.
Yet Itachi had shown no fear whatsoever. Instead, he had produced an entire theory of profit distribution and questioned him until he was speechless.
Itachi had even asked whether he had paid for commercial insurance for the Akatsuki.
If the Uchiha continued to prosper like this, the seeds of hatred would never sprout.
Itachi would not turn to darkness, the clan would not rebel, and the Eye