In the end, Suna's ambush against the Uchiha failed completely. Chiyo's forces were the first to scatter, retreating deep into the dunes. Monzaemon Chikamatsu's brigade followed slowly after, pulling back in a tight, defensive formation to shield themselves from Uchiha Naka's rampaging Susanoo and Shinichi's relentless barrage of S-rank jutsus.
Despite fielding only three hundred chunin and thirty two jonin, the Uchiha suffered little to no casualties, mostly due to Naka's life-saving dōjutsu, Kamimusubi. Suna, by contrast, paid a staggering price—losing over two-thirds of their entire puppet brigade, more than a thousand chunin, and close to a hundred jonin in the bloodbath.
Watching the last of the Suna shinobi vanish into the horizon, Fukashi turned back to the ruined battlefield just as Naka approached him from behind.
"Fukashi-sama, with our strength, we should just march onward and seize Sunagakure for ourselves!" Naka declared, his voice tight with adrenaline. "Forget about Konoha, those damned Senju, and all their cronies!"
"Calm down, Naka." Fukashi placed a firm hand on Naka's shoulder, forcibly grounding the young warrior. He swept his other arm across the barren land, gesturing for Naka to truly look. "Look around you. Do you really want to live in a wasteland like this? Do you honestly believe any of our clansmen would thrive in a desert?"
Naka followed the trajectory of Fukashi's hand. Surveying the endless, shifting mountains of harsh sand, he couldn't help but furrow his brow and scrunch his nose in disgust. The desert was certainly no place to build a home.
"Naka, you have a dangerous habit of letting your blood boil over during battle," Fukashi lectured gently, guiding his subordinate back toward the rest of the resting clan members. "Cool your head first. With you, Naori, Kagami, and me, it won't take long before we exact proper justice within Konoha." Fukashi then lowered his voice to a cautious whisper. "Can you heal Kagami and the others?"
"My Kamimusubi can only reverse the fates that I actively observed," Naka admitted, dejectedly shaking his head. "Even if I were to cast it on him now, Kagami would only regain consciousness. His missing eye will remain lost, and the Suna poison will still linger in his veins. There is nothing my eyes can do to save him from this..."
Fukashi paused. Kagami was Sosuke's second son, a Mangekyō Uchiha, and easily one of the strongest pillars of their clan. For someone of his caliber to fall so pathetically to underhanded poison and scheme was infuriating.
Shaking off the grim thought, Fukashi perked his head up. "Where is Shinichi?"
"Shinichi-kun...?" Naka muttered, looking around in confusion. "His Shadow Clone aided me against the main Suna force, but the original..."
"He slipped away the moment Suna's central ambush forces broke off to chase after the Senju," Arashi commented as he joined in.
"Arashi!" Naka exclaimed with a sudden burst of genuine excitement and friendly banter. "You actually didn't die this time!"
"Ugh..." Arashi's confident expression instantly faltered. Recalling his humiliating deaths in their previous operations, he rubbed the back of his neck and sheepishly muttered, "Thanks to your eyes, Naka. Ha... ha... I suppose I've grown a bit stronger."
Naka laughed heartily, clapping Arashi on the shoulder for a brief moment before turning back to Fukashi, his expression turning serious. "Fukashi-sama, if we're not going to attack Sunagakrue, we should pursue the Senju. If we move right now, I know we can still intercept them and capture the Jinchuriki!"
Fukashi stared at Naka, then let his gaze drift across the rest of the gathered clansmen. He could see a vocal minority from the Second Division nodding in fierce agreement with Naka. However, nearly every single member of the Seventh Division was frowning in deep worry, some showing outright disapproval. Even in his incapacitated state, Kagami's peaceful, village-first influence over the Seventh Division remained incredibly powerful.
Fukashi massaged his temples in growing annoyance. He was a warrior, not a politician. He had always loathed getting entangled in the toxic web of internal politics, vastly preferring the straightforward honesty of direct combat and mastering jutsus. After another long moment of contemplation, he made his decision.
"We recover our deceased and salvage whatever valuables we can from the battlefield first."
"But Fukashi-sama!" Naka erupted, taking a step forward.
"I spoke with Uzumaki Mito after you left," Fukashi explained, cutting him off. "She gave her word. She promised she would speak to the council in our favor and erase any dishonor or misunderstanding caused by this incident."
"How can a Senju's housewife be trusted?!" Naka shouted. "She is definitely in league with them! We must hold the Jinchuriki as leverage!"
"And trigger a civil war within our own village?" Fukashi shook his head firmly. "What did I tell you, Naka? The price of internal warfare will be too heavy. We would not survive the next great war if we break ourselves now."
"Fukashi-sama..." Naka's eyes snapped fiercely as crimson sharingan spun. He lowered his voice mixed in disappointment and frustraction. "Why have you turned so soft? You sound just like those spineless elders and Kagami. What happened to your pride? What use is all this coward's talk about the 'greater good' and surviving the next war? What are you so afraid of?"
"Naka, perhaps you are simply too young to grasp the bigger picture right now. But you will understand my choices in the near future. You just need time to mature." Fukashi placed a heavy, fatherly hand on the young man's shoulder, using his chakra to exude a calming authority. "Let's just go home first, we shed enough blood for this war."
Naka remained completely still. He locked his glaring Sharingan with Fukashi's calm, black eyes. Slowly, the crimson color faded from Naka's irises, bleeding back into a standard dark brown. Fukashi took the silence as a sign of acceptance and turned away.
"Alright, gather the dead and strip the enemy for any useful scrolls or gear. I will go find Shinichi."
With a swift flash of movement, Fukashi departed into the desert.
***
As Fukashi accelerated his pace, tracking the path of the Senju and Suna forces, the distinct echoes of a skirmish rang out nearby. He immediately altered his course, cutting northward toward the source of the noise.
There, he found Shinichi. The teenager was systematically butchering a squad of Konoha ANBU with terrifying ease and absolutely no restraint.
"Shinichi!" Fukashi barked, quickening his steps as he closed the distance.
Shinichi gave his sword a sharp flick, splattering the remaining blood from the steel before smoothly sheathing it into its scabbard. He looked up calmly. "Dad. Suna finally retreated?"
"Yes." Fukashi cast a grim look at the surrounding corpses and nodded. "But what happened here? Did they ambush you?"
"No," Shinichi replied casually. "There were several squads of ANBU lurking around the perimeter of the battlefield, so I detained and questioned them. They were all part of the so-called Shadow Guards." Shinichi reached down, effortlessly hoisting a still-breathing operative by the collar. He tilted the man's head back to reveal a tongue inscribed with web-like curse seal patterns.
"Shinichi..." Fukashi hesitated, his eyes scanning the surrounding dunes with practiced paranoia. "Did any of them manage to escape?"
"No."
"Good." Fukashi nodded, stepping forward to drive a kunai into the chest of the last living ANBU to secure their silence. "But do not do this again. It is far too risky."
"It is riskier to give them the impression that they can survey us at will," Shinichi countered in a flat voice. "We must assert a firm resistance. We need to threaten them with the prospect of an outright rebellion if we ever want the village leadership to actually hear our voices."
Fukashi stared at his son, as a wave of profound shock washed over him.
"Father," Shinichi continued, his tone shifting into something heavier. "Madara-sama's final mandate for you to protect the clan does not mean you are obligated to keep every single clansman alive. That is simply a fool's dream. An impossible fantasy. You must be ready to sacrifice a few of us to save the collective, or to secure a strategic benefit for the clan. Including me. Only then can you stand on equal ground with the Senju. Only when you prove to them that we are willing to fight to the death the moment our core interests are threatened—only then will they learn when to stop and negotiate. Then we can protect the clan from the village too."
Fukashi looked up at the sky, his son's harsh words forcing him to re-evaluate decades of his own leadership.
"...You weren't always this aggressive," Fukashi murmured, his voice laced with a father's sorrow. "You used to be so optimistic about the village's future. I tried to live up to that expectation—to build the future you were designing. A future where the clan and the village cooperated seamlessly." Fukashi lowered his head, locking eyes with his son. "What changed your mind so completely, Shinichi?"
"In the past, life was good enough for our family, and even for our clan to live in relative peace," Shinichi said, shaking his head with a touch of disappointment. "I could understand the clan's desire to rise higher, but I could never agree with their obsession to seize power so rapidly. After all, we were the ones who lost to the Senju."
Shinichi looked out over the barren landscape. "Hashirama's foolish promise to appoint Madara-sama—the loser of their conflict—as the Hokage inspired unnecessary and unreasonable ambition within our clan. That impossible dream has festered into bitter dissent for generations. The majority of our clansmen can no longer be content with simply being a founding clan of Konoha. Our clan followed the rules of the strong and 'the victor takes all' for centuries. Our current actions only paint us as petty losers. If Hashirama did this intentionally, then... anyways. That is why I chose to remain neutral, neither supporting nor opposing the clan's internal politics."
Fukashi absorbed his son's words, a solemn nod of agreement escaping him. The Uchiha had always lived by the law of the desert: the victors claim the spoils. Yet, after a few decades of comfort, the clan had forgotten their historical defeat and begun demanding the ultimate spoil—Konoha itself. For the first time, Fukashi fully understood why Shinichi had always been so detached during clan meetings.
"But now, everything is different," Shinichi concluded, his gaze hardening as a cold aura radiated from his body. "The Senju—and by extension, the village leadership—are actively sabotaging us. They are intentionally targeting our people and pushing us to the very edge of the cliff. Since they chose to cross the line first, I will act accordingly."
Fukashi stood in silence for a longer moment, to process his son's logic. He hated politics, but he still had certain understanding of it. Shinichi was right. If the village was willing to push them off the cliff, treating them like expendable tools, playing the part of the submissive, village-first peacekeeper would only guarantee their destruction.
"I understand," Fukashi finally spoke, his deep voice carrying a grim trace of acceptance. "If a line has been crossed, we cannot afford to look weak."
Shinichi watched his father, his expression softening just a fraction. "Then leave the scheming to me, Father. You have always preferred straightforward combat and refining your jutsus over sitting in smoke-filled council rooms. Continue with that style. Focus your strength entirely on protecting our family and fighting at the frontlines for the clan."
Shinichi adjusted his scabbard, his gaze turning incredibly sharp. "From now on, I will actively take part in the clan's politics in your stead. I will guide the Second Division and handle the elders. You simply need to be the shield and the sword."
Fukashi stared at his teenage son, momentarily struck by a wave of conflicting emotions. As a father, a profound sense of pride swelled within his chest; Shinichi had grown into a brilliant, fiercely capable strategist who could see the entire board. Yet, at the same time, a hot prickle of embarrassment washed over him. He was the head of the household, a seasoned veteran of the clan, and here was his own son practically telling him to sit back and let the next generation handle the heavy thinking.
Catching his father's slight, sheepish grimace, Shinichi offered a rare, subtle smirk.
Fukashi let out a heavy sigh, clearing his throat to mask his embarrassment as he reached out and firmly slapped Shinichi on the back. "Hmph. Bold words for a brat who still hasn't even married. Fine. If you think you can handle those stubborn elders, be my guest."
With the tension broken and a new, unspoken dynamic forged between father and son, the two turned away from the bloodied sand. Moving in perfect sync, they blurred across the dunes, heading back together to rendezvous with the rest of the clan.