Chapter 417: Assassinating Uchiha Yasushi
Konoha Village.
Bright sunshine, perfect spring weather.
The streets bustled with people going about their day in peace.
Post-war reconstruction was nearly finished, and the village was beginning to thrive again.
It was enrollment day at the academy. Parents lined up with their children outside the entrance, the crowd stretching down the block.
"Yasushi, listen to your teachers once you're in school, okay?"
Uchiha Takeshi smiled as he ruffled his eldest son's hair, his voice warm with affection.
"I will, Dad! I'm going to become a strong ninja and protect you and Mom!"
Yasushi looked up with bright, eager eyes, his small face beaming. He looked every bit the adorable six-year-old.
Takeshi laughed, utterly charmed by his son's fierce little expression and tiny clenched fists. For a moment, he felt completely content.
But then his smile faded. He looked down at Yasushi with something complicated in his eyes.
"You know, it doesn't really matter if you become strong or not. What matters is that you grow up healthy and safe. That you build a good life for yourself someday, find someone to love, have a family. That's what's truly important."
"Huh?" Yasushi tilted his head, thoroughly confused. Why would his dad say something like that?
Seeing his son's bewildered expression, Takeshi's heart ached. This wasn't the time to talk about the harsh realities of war, clan politics, or how quickly life could be stolen away. Not on a day like today, full of hope and new beginnings.
He forced his smile back.
"The war's over now. Just focus on enjoying school, alright?"
The bell rang. The academy gates opened and families filed through, teachers directing students to their classrooms.
Meanwhile, in his office atop the Hokage Tower, the Third Hokage sat with his pipe, watching the new students through his crystal ball. He looked rather pleased with himself, surveying the next generation of Konoha ninja.
Tap tap.
A knock at the door pulled him from his observation.
Hiruzen's expression shifted instantly from relaxed to professional. He waved his hand and the crystal ball's image faded to nothing. A dark cloth settled over it.
"Come in."
Minato Namikaze entered with his characteristic warm smile, golden hair catching the light.
Even in the Hokage's presence, Minato radiated that sunny, approachable energy he was known for, though he remained respectful.
"Here's this year's enrollment roster for your review, Hokage-sama." Minato handed over a bound document.
"Thank you." Hiruzen accepted it and began flipping through. "Anyone particularly promising this year?"
"The Gekkō clan's eldest son, Hayate, is starting. He shows good aptitude for the family's kenjutsu style."
"Though he's frail. Unless he awakens the bloodline limit, he may not reach his full potential."
"There's also an Uchiha enrolling. Uchiha Yasushi."
"His father's just a genin, but the boy seems sharp for his age. Mature, good fundamentals. We'll see if he awakens the Sharingan."
"Uchiha..." Hiruzen paused, his eyes lingering on the name for a moment. Something flickered across his face, too quick to read, before his expression smoothed back to benevolent interest.
"Keep an eye on him then. All our students deserve that attention."
"Actually, you have an Uchiha in your squad too, don't you? Obito, I believe? I've seen that boy helping elderly civilians cross the street. Good heart on that one."
Hiruzen shifted the conversation easily, bringing up Minato's deadlast student with a hint of amusement.
Konoha had never feared individuals. Only ideologies.
"Hah, yeah." Minato scratched the back of his head, grinning. "Obito's a handful sometimes, but you're right. He genuinely cares about his teammates and the village."
"He actually looks up to you, sir. Says he's going to be Hokage someday."
"Ambition is good!" Hiruzen chuckled. "Though the Will of Fire is what truly makes a Hokage. Keep working with him on that."
"Of course."
After a bit more small talk, Minato excused himself.
Once outside the Hokage Tower, he began his patrol route through the village.
Minato wasn't the Yellow Flash yet, but as Jiraiya's student and Kushina's boyfriend, he was already being groomed for greatness. Everyone knew his name.
He walked the streets with easy confidence, greeting people as he went. And wherever he walked, he left Flying Thunder God markers in subtle places. Corners of buildings, hidden spots in alleyways, unobtrusive locations no one would notice.
Ever since mastering the technique, he'd made a habit of it. The more he practiced, the smoother it became.
Plus, having markers throughout the village meant he could respond to emergencies instantly. No travel time, no delays.
The patrol squad might be late. But Minato Namikaze, the fastest shinobi alive, would never keep anyone waiting.
His route took him past the academy just as school let out.
Children poured through the gates in a wave of noise and energy, running to waiting parents. Laughter and shouts filled the air.
Minato watched from a distance, smiling. He found himself daydreaming about the future. Would he and Kushina have a son or daughter? Would they be as energetic as these kids?
Yasushi spotted his father in the crowd immediately.
"Dad! Over here!" He waved both arms and ran toward Takeshi with a huge grin.
Takeshi's tired expression melted away. He opened his arms and hurried to meet his son.
All around them, similar reunions played out. Just another normal day.
The dismissal crowd was thick with parents. People jostled shoulder to shoulder, focused on finding their children.
Takeshi only had eyes for Yasushi running toward him. So when another "parent" brushed past, he didn't even notice.
The blade came from nowhere.
Clang!
Metal struck the thin steel plate Takeshi wore under his shirt at his ribs. An old habit from his years as a shinobi.
Pure instinct took over. Takeshi rolled sideways, hand reaching for his kunai pouch, trying to create distance.
"Damn it!"
The attacker ripped open his coat. Explosive tags covered his entire torso, fuses already lit and hissing.
His eyes gleamed with fanatic determination as he lunged at Takeshi. A suicide bomber going for mutual destruction.
In that same moment, another disguised attacker struck from a different angle.
Kunai flashed through the air toward little Yasushi, who'd frozen in shock near his father. The weapons gleamed with the telltale blue sheen of poison.
Multiple kunai. All aimed at a six-year-old child.
"No!"
Horror and rage exploded through Takeshi. He threw himself toward his son, arms outstretched, abandoning all defense.
The suicide bomber was a heartbeat away from Takeshi's back when golden light erupted beside him.
"Attacking children? Bad move."
Minato appeared behind the bomber in a flash. His hand pressed against the man's back and the Flying Thunder God seal activated.
Space rippled. Both figures blurred and vanished.
Minato had spotted the attack instantly, but there were two threats. He'd prioritized the suicide bomber, the more immediate danger.
An instant later, space rippled again and Minato reappeared alone.
From the training grounds outside the village came a thunderous explosion. Fire and smoke billowed into the sky, visible even from here.
Minato's expression was cold. He'd already turned toward the second attacker.
But those precious seconds had been enough.
Clang clang clang...
Thud.
Blood sprayed. Takeshi crashed into Yasushi, knocking him down and rolling across the ground with him clutched tight.
When Takeshi looked down, his world stopped.
Yasushi's small face had gone white. His eyes were huge with pain and terror, pupils dilated, already losing focus.
Three kunai jutted from his small body. Blood poured from the wounds, soaking through his blue academy uniform and spreading across the dirt in vivid red pools.
"Yasushi!"
Takeshi's scream was raw agony. Everything collapsed around him.
He should never have let his son start academy so young. He should have sewn steel plates into Yasushi's clothing. He should have been faster, stronger, better.
Why was he just a genin? Why couldn't he protect his own son?
The emotional overload shattered something inside him. His eyes burned. The world turned red.
In his crimson eyes, three black tomoe spun into existence.
The second attacker threw off his coat, revealing more explosive tags. His hand reached for the fuse.
Before he could light it, multiple voices rang out simultaneously.
"Shadow Possession Jutsu!"
"Mind Transfer Jutsu!"
"Water Prison Jutsu!"
"Earth Style Rampart!"
The attacker froze mid-motion. Water and earth rose around him in an instant, trapping him completely. He couldn't even blink.
The responding Konoha ninja had moved with perfect coordination, neutralizing the second threat within seconds.
But it was too late for the boy bleeding out on the ground.
Only Takeshi's broken sobs filled the air now, along with the sickening smell of blood.
Many of the parents were ninja themselves, veterans of the war. They didn't panic. Training kicked in.
Some checked the wounded. Others cleared space. A few scanned the area for more threats.
Order held, barely.
"Medical ninja! We need a medic!"
"The boy's badly hurt and poisoned! We need someone now!"
Takeshi saw the black tinge to the blood seeping from Yasushi's wounds and knew immediately what that meant. He looked desperately through the crowd for help.
But medical ninja were rare even in Konoha. Most worked at the hospital.
The academy had medics on standby, but only trainees. They could handle scraped knees and minor training accidents. Not this. Not life-threatening injuries with toxins in the bloodstream.
Minato felt like he'd been stabbed himself. His usual bright demeanor had vanished, replaced by grim self-recrimination.
If he'd been faster. If he'd noticed sooner. If he'd just been better.
The thoughts ate at him, but there wasn't time for that now.
"Give him to me," Minato said urgently. "I'll get him to the hospital immediately."
Takeshi looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with tears and the crimson of a newly awakened Sharingan. But Minato's words cut through his despair like a lifeline.
Without hesitation, Takeshi transferred his son into Minato's arms. Yasushi's breathing was shallow, his small body soaked with blood.
Speed meant everything now.
The world blurred. Space folded.
One instant they were at the academy. The next, Minato stood in Konoha Hospital's entrance hall, the smell of antiseptic sharp in his nose.
The Flying Thunder God. In this moment, it was everything.
"Emergency!" Minato's voice rang through the lobby. "Child victim, multiple stab wounds, poisoned!"
A pale figure with long black hair seemed to materialize beside him, moving with serpentine grace.
Orochimaru.
Golden eyes, unnaturally still, took in the situation instantly. He wore combat gear, one hand resting on the sword at his hip. The war had ended years ago, but protocols remained. The explosion had brought him here.
"Minato." His voice was calm, controlled. "That explosion. Enemy attack?"
"Orochimaru-sama!" Relief flooded through Minato. "Thank god you're here."
Tsunade was gone from the village. That made Orochimaru their best hope. His methods weren't conventional, but they were effective. If anyone could save this child, it was him.
"Two attackers hit the academy. Both subdued," Minato explained quickly. "The boy's hurt bad. Poison on the blades."
"Hmm." Orochimaru made a soft sound of displeasure. "Attacking children. How tedious."
He took Yasushi carefully and laid him on the gurney a nurse wheeled over. Green chakra glowed from his hands as they hovered over the wounds, probing with surgical precision. Tissue damage, toxin dispersal, vital signs. Nothing escaped his examination.
Minato barely breathed, waiting.
Every second felt like an eternity.
Finally, Orochimaru spoke.
"This is Chiyo's work. I have the antidote."
"The wounds are severe, but not fatal. None of the strikes hit anything critical. With proper cellular stimulation and recovery time, he'll survive."
"Thank you." The words came out shaky. Minato's whole body sagged with relief.
Orochimaru didn't waste time responding. He administered the antitoxin first, then directed the nurses to prepare an operating room.
Thirty minutes later, he emerged. Takeshi and several others had arrived via normal means and were waiting anxiously outside.
Orochimaru gave a slight nod.
"The surgery was successful. The boy will recover."
Relief broke across every face. People thanked him effusively.
Orochimaru waved them off and left without ceremony.
Takeshi practically ran into the recovery room.
Yasushi lay still under the effects of anesthesia. His small chest rose and fell steadily. The pain had left his face, though he remained deathly pale.
The monitor beeped rhythmically. The crisis had passed.
But even unconscious, Yasushi's eyelids twitched continuously.
In that space between life and death, something had awakened. The mystery of the womb had broken open, and memories from another life came flooding back.
Outside the hospital, news of the attack spread through Konoha like wildfire.
The village was in an uproar.