After hearing the rising chorus of voices, Fugaku drew in a slow breath, his hand twitching slightly as he prepared to speak and restore order. But before he could utter a word, Shanks — seated calmly beside him — turned his head toward the clan head and spoke in a low, confident tone.
"Uchiha Clan Head," he said, his voice steady and unhurried, "before you speak, I would like to address everyone here… if you don't mind."
Fugaku studied him for a mont. The silence in the hall deepened; all eyes turned toward the red-haired Uzumaki who now sat with an ease that bordered on defiance. Then, after a brief pause, Fugaku gave a slight nod. "Very well," he said.
Shanks rose to his feet. The flickering lamplight caught the faint gleam in his eyes as he swept his gaze across the hall, taking in the rows of stern, watchful faces — so proud, so hostile, others quietly curious. The air seed to tighten around him as he began to speak.
"I'll be very blunt from the start," Shanks said, his voice ringing clearly through the room. "Honestly, I don't care about the opinions of anyone from the Uchiha clan."
A few murmurs of indignation rippled through the crowd, but Shanks continued without pause, his tone sharp and unwavering.
"If I want to marry Mikoto, then I will marry her — and there is no one in this world who can stop . That much, I can guarantee."
The words struck like a thunderclap. Several Uchiha elders stiffened; one younger man's hand clenched into a fist. Yet Shanks's expression remained calm, almost indifferent — the kind of calm that only cos from absolute confidence.
"However," he continued, his voice lowering slightly but carrying an undeniable weight, "there is a catch."
He paused just long enough to let the tension build before speaking again.
"If you all willingly allow this marriage, then you will have my goodwill — and the goodwill of the Uzumaki clan. I am not boasting when I say this: if you have our alliance, you will have soone you can rely on… soone who will stand beside you when others turn their backs."
His gaze hardened, the faint flicker of sothing fierce behind his calm deanour. "But if you refuse — if you stand in the way of this marriage — it will still happen. The only difference is that you will have no goodwill from , nor any alliance from the Uzumaki clan."
The words hung in the air like the edge of a drawn blade. The room fell utterly silent. Even those who had scoffed monts ago found themselves frozen under the weight of his declaration.
"As for those of you raising concerns that my marriage with Mikoto will bring dissatisfaction from Konoha's higher-ups," Sanks continued, his tone cool yet edged with disdain, "do you all really believe the Uchiha clan isn't already under their scrutiny?"
He let the question hang in the air, scanning the room slowly. The uneasy shifting of a few seated clan mbers betrayed the discomfort that rippled through the hall.
"If you think you're not already the target of their dissatisfaction," Shanks continued, his expression hardening, "then the kindest word I can offer you is naive. That's being polite." He paused, his lips curving in a faint, humorless smile. "If I were less charitable, I'd use a word much harsher than that… but let's not go there."
A few Uchiha frowned at his tone, but none dared to interrupt. His voice carried an authority that demanded silence.
"You expect goodwill from the students of Senju Tobirama?" Shanks said, his gaze sweeping the crowd like a cold wind. "The man who spent his life trying to ensure the utter destruction of your clan? You think his students, the ones now sitting in Konoha's highest seats, would see you any differently?"
The rhetorical sting in his words made several heads drop.
"Tell ," Shanks pressed on, "do you even hear the na Senju in this village anymore? How many of them are still here?" His tone dropped lower, colder. "Look at the fate of the Senju clan itself. Once powerful, now nothing but whispers of the past. And even the last surviving one—Senju Tsunade—does anyone even call her by her clan na? No. They call her Tsunade. Princess Tsunade."
He paused, letting that sink in. The weight of truth in his words was undeniable.
"So think whatever you want to think," he said finally, his tone sharp as a blade. "Live in whatever delusion comforts you. But understand this—my marriage with Mikoto is not up for discussion. It's already decided."
He straightened slightly, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not here to ask for your permission," he said evenly. "I'm here to state a fact. What you do with that fact is entirely up to you. If you want the goodwill and alliance of the Uzumaki clan, then stand by it. If not…" He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Then don't. No one is begging you for your approval."
The silence that followed was absolute. The only sound was the faint crackle of oil in the lamps, echoing in the heavy air of the hall.
After a mont, Shanks turned his gaze toward Fugaku, his tone softening slightly. "I'm done," he said simply.
Then he sat back, calm and composed, as though his words had been nothing more than a casual conversation — even as their weight continued to linger, pressing down on every Uchiha in the room.
Fugaku's sharp eyes swept across the room, eting the gazes of several key Uchiha mbers — elders, councilors, and senior shinobi — in silent communication. No words were exchanged, yet their intent was clear in those brief, deliberate glances. After a few monts, he turned back toward Shanks, his expression composed and asured.
"Clan Head Shanks Uzumaki," Fugaku said evenly, "if you can wait for a few hours at Mikoto's residence, we would like to hold a clan-only eting before giving you our answer."
Shanks regarded him quietly for a mont, then nodded. "As you wish," he said. "But please, make your decision quickly. I plan to leave Konoha soon. After all"—his tone turned faintly wry—"I'm not exactly welco here anymore, not after I severed the alliance between the Uzumaki and Konoha."
Fugaku inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Don't worry," he replied. "It won't take that long."
With that, Shanks rose from his seat. The movent drew every gaze in the hall — the tension in the air seed to ease just slightly, though an undercurrent of unease lingered. Benimaru, Guy, and reoleona imdiately stood up as well, flanking him with quiet loyalty. Mikoto followed soon after, bowing respectfully to her clan before turning to leave with them.
As they stepped out of the Uchiha shrine, the bright afternoon sunlight greeted them. The village air was warm, touched by the faint hum of cicadas and the rustle of leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. The shadows were still short, stretching faintly across the stone paths as the sun hovered high above.
As they made their way toward Mikoto's ho, Guy broke the silence. "Onii-san," he asked, glancing sideways at Shanks, "what do you think? Will they accept your proposal — the alliance with the Uzumaki?"
Shanks didn't answer imdiately. His gaze remained fixed ahead, the golden light of afternoon glinting faintly in his eyes. After a mont, he said quietly, "I don't exactly know. But if they're smart… if they truly care about their clan's future, then they should."
Guy frowned slightly, sensing the weight in Shanks's words.
They should, Shanks thought, his expression calm yet distant. If they understood what's coming… they wouldn't hesitate.
For Shanks — a transmigrator who already knew how history would unfold — the truth was clear and grim. The proud Uchiha clan, with all its brilliance and strength, was fated to fall. In the end, only one survivor would remain — Sasuke. And even he would leave behind just a single child, carrying the last ember of a once-mighty lineage.
Their future is already written, Shanks reflected silently as they walked. But maybe, just maybe, they can still change that… if they choose wisely.
He looked up toward the sun, its bright light filtering through the canopy of trees. "If they want a path to survival," he murmured, almost to himself, "then aligning with the Uzumaki clan is their best choice. The only choice."
The others fell silent, their footsteps echoing softly against the sunlit path — leaving behind the shrine where the fate of a clan now hung in the balance.
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