Ken could feel it before he saw it.

  The shift.

  He returned from a solo recon drill te in the evening, the st orange light of the sun barely brushing the roofs of the Uchiha compound. The air wasn’t different, not exactly—but something in it was.

  Tighter.

  Tensed.

  The kind of quiet you only heard before a bde fell.

  His house was dark when he arrived, save for the dim candlelight coming from the central room. Airi sat on a floor mat, her hands resting tightly in her p, expression too composed. Her tea had gone cold.

  Daiki stood behind her.

  He didn’t speak as Ken stepped in. He simply gave a small nod toward the back room.

  “They’re waiting for you.”

  Ken didn’t ask who.

  He already knew.

  The inner chamber smelled of incense and damp wood. Two cloaked Uchiha elders sat beneath a hanging fan symbol. Their faces were old but sharp—carved by politics more than time.

  Ken entered, not bowing, not stiffening.

  He stood, calm and unreadable.

  “Ken,” one said, voice smooth. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You summoned me to my own house.”

  That earned a slight twitch of the elder’s mouth.

  “Always precise. Like your father. Loyal. Disciplined.”

  Ken didn’t respond.

  The other elder leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

  “You’ve grown,” he said. “The mission with Itachi—commendable. The Hokage seems to think highly of you.”

  Ken said nothing.

  “And yet... you continue to drift.”

  Ken’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “No fire training. No cn jutsu. No support of the cn council. Even now, you refuse to integrate. You avoid the main compound. You turn your back on your birthright.”

  Ken’s voice was steady. “I never asked for it.”

  “Perhaps not,” the first elder said. “But you were born into it. And that means your life belongs to something greater than your own design.”

  He leaned back.

  “We’ve been lenient. Patient. But it’s time for you to choose your alignment.”

  Ken folded his arms. “And if I don’t?”

  The second elder smiled.

  “You’ve grown fond of your squad, haven’t you? Particurly your sensei.”

  Ken’s fingers twitched.

  “And your mother’s clinic has been receiving increased funding from the cn treasury. Your father was recently offered reassignment to a more visible guard rotation.”

  The elder's smile deepened.

  “So many pieces in such a delicate position.”

  The threat wasn’t loud.

  But it nded louder than any shout.

  Ken’s mind processed it in silence. His instincts screamed caution—but another part of him, the colder part, filed it away like a tactical move.

  They weren’t warning him.

  They were prepping the battlefield.

  He spoke low. “What do you want?”

  “Attend cn training twice a week. Begin fire affinity practice. Publicly endorse your support of the Uchiha Council in the coming cycle. And accept an internal tutor assigned by the elders.”

  Ken’s eyes didn’t flicker. “Control, not guidance.”

  “Call it what you like,” one of them said. “We call it family.”

  Ken left without a word.

  His mother met his eyes as he passed through the hall. She didn’t speak either.

  But he saw it.

  She knew.

  So did Daiki.

  They’d both been warned, one way or another. And like shinobi everywhere—they endured.

  But Ken didn’t walk like them anymore.

  He walked with something else.

  Conviction.

  The next morning, Daen met Squad 9 for training—but only after pulling Ken aside before the others arrived.

  He didn’t speak right away.

  He just tossed a scroll at Ken’s feet.

  Ken caught it without looking.

  “What is it?”

  “Transfer request. Denied.”

  Ken raised an eyebrow.

  “Someone submitted it on your behalf,” Daen said. “Said you requested reassignment to the Uchiha Genin Oversight Program.”

  Ken’s expression didn’t change. “I didn’t.”

  “I know,” Daen said. “But the council wanted a paper trail.”

  Ken finally looked at him. “You stopped it?”

  Daen looked tired for once. Not zy. Not sarcastic.

  Just tired.

  “They tried to move you out of my squad. Break the team. Redirect your path. I made it clear that wouldn’t happen without the Hokage’s direct order.”

  Ken paused. “What did they say?”

  “They said nothing.”

  He lit a cigarette and added, “But their silence screamed plenty.”

  The team trained harder that day. Ken didn’t let the tension bleed into his movements. He ran the drills. Adjusted angles. Sharpened the flicker steps. Perfected the water choke hold. Mastered the clone feint strike.

  Daisuke and Reina noticed the shift.

  They didn’t ask. Not yet.

  But Daen saw it too.

  After training, while the others packed up, Daen called out.

  “Ken. Stay back a minute.”

  Ken approached.

  Daen looked him over once.

  “I don’t need to know what they said to you. But I’ll say this.”

  He pointed at the field behind them.

  “What we build here—it’s real. It’s earned. Not inherited.”

  Ken nodded once.

  “If you ever need to break something,” Daen said, voice lower now, “start with the chains.”

  That night, Ken sat on the rooftop of his home again.

  Same wind. Same stars.

  But his path had narrowed.

  The cn wanted obedience.

  Daen had given him loyalty.

  Now, the next move was his.

  He didn’t know where it would nd.

  But he knew one thing:

  He wouldn't walk anyone’s path but his own.