We Uchiha !Dont play with us!!

Back at the Police Department Prison, Andrew planned to pay his usual visit to Danzo, mainly to ensure nothing suspicious was happening under the radar. But as he approached the cell, a flicker of foreign Chakra pricked at his senses. His enhanced Byakugan, evolved through intense training and combat experience, now allowed him not just to observe the Chakra flow in someone's meridians—but also to distinguish different signatures.

What he sensed in Danzo was definitely not his own Chakra. This one felt invasive, foreign, lurking like a parasite—something abnormal. Andrew narrowed his eyes, focusing deeper. The presence of that alien energy confirmed a long-standing suspicion: someone had been in contact with Danzo despite his supposed isolation.

Could it be the Third Hokage? Andrew mulled over the idea but quickly dismissed it. The Third was aging, and lately, he had been overwhelmed by the crisis in Konoha. He might turn a blind eye to Danzo's activities in the past, but now? After the attempt on the Daimyo's life and the revelation of human experiments?

No. Even Sarutobi wouldn't go that far.

The man was complex—he loved Konoha in his own way, but his obsession with control and power had only deepened with age. He kept Anbu under his command long after stepping down from the Hokage position. His tolerance of Danzo had crossed dangerous lines for years, but even he had his limits.

Danzo's current situation crossed them.

"The Third may have once closed his eyes to Danzo's methods," Andrew thought, "but now he's turned away completely. This imprisonment isn't for show. It's his way of drawing the line."

That was why Andrew hadn't simply executed Danzo earlier, though the thought had crossed his mind more than once. Pushing too hard might strain things with the Third, and Uchiha Kamasu had warned him to be careful. But soon, things would change.

Once the harbor terminal was built and operational, the Uchiha could formally petition the Daimyo to resettle by the coast—away from Konoha's direct reach but still technically part of the Land of Fire. It wouldn't be defection, merely decentralization. And that made all the difference.

With the Daimyo's seal of approval, Konoha's leadership could object all they wanted, but they couldn't act—not immediately. The logistical gap alone gave Uchiha the time they needed. And with three pairs of Mangekyō sharing power among them, Uchiha would no longer be an internal threat but a sovereign force.

Moreover, the coastline bordered Mist Shinobi territory. With Obito's control over Kirigakure gone, they were vulnerable, low on elite fighters, and wary of Cloud Shinobi. Aligning with Uchiha made sense for them. And for Uchiha, the potential partnership could serve as a shield.

"If both Mist and the Water Daimyo support our move, Konoha won't dare act," Andrew strategized. "Because if they do, Cloud and Rock are waiting for their chance. One misstep, and they'll pounce."

Konoha simply couldn't afford a war right now—not economically, and certainly not spiritually. The Third War had crippled more than just their manpower; it had left gaping holes in their morale and coffers. Any large-scale conflict would be a disaster.

Andrew had calculated all this down to the last sen. "War needs bodies and money. And Konoha has neither."

So he'd wait. Bide time. Avoid confrontation. But one threat couldn't be ignored.

Danzo had to die.

The man had gone beyond obsession. Even from prison, he was scheming. If left alive, he'd eventually find a way to lash out at the Uchiha again. And Andrew had no illusions—even a caged serpent can strike.

The foreign Chakra Andrew sensed was focused on stimulating the dormant Hashirama cells in Danzo's body. Someone was trying to reactivate them, likely to enhance his healing or even escape capability. It wouldn't take long before the cells were fully restored.

"Maybe I should wait just a bit longer," Andrew muttered. "Let them activate. Then I'll strike—and use the evidence as justification."

Before he could solidify the plan, a loud, all-too-familiar voice echoed from the corridor.

"You brat! I know you're here, and I've got something to ask you!"

Andrew turned, exhaling in mild exasperation. Tsunade.

She didn't knock or wait. Instead, she strode in like she owned the place and grabbed his collar.

"You're drinking with me tonight. No excuses!"

Before he could argue, she dragged him toward Konoha's commercial street. It wasn't the first time she had acted like this—but something about today felt different.

They entered a small tavern tucked between a bookstore and a weapon shop. Tsunade ordered sake like a soldier stocking ammunition. She popped open a bottle and downed it in seconds.

Andrew said nothing, opting instead for a plate of grilled tofu.

After the third bottle, Tsunade finally looked at him and frowned.

"You're not drinking?"

Andrew shook his head. "Not my thing. Alcohol clouds judgment. That's not something I can afford."

Tsunade gave a humorless laugh. "Even in Konoha, you need to stay alert?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the flickering lantern on their table.

"I can't trust Konoha with my back."

The words hung in the air like a kunai suspended mid-throw.

Tsunade went silent.

She understood what he meant, even if she didn't want to. After today—after everything that had come to light—how could she argue?

Andrew glanced at her, then downed a small cup to keep the peace. But it didn't change how he felt.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But I can't put my clan's life in the hands of a village that lets monsters like Danzo run free."

Tsunade had no answer.

Andrew remembered what Konoha used to be—what it should've been. But in Sarutobi's hands, even Tobirama's rigid but orderly legacy had become something twisted. He kept Tobirama's policies but ignored his logic, turning noble ideals into weapons.

"Danzo acts. Third nods. That's how this village has worked for decades."

No one questioned the human experiments, the assassinations, the lies—because Sarutobi always looked the other way. That era had to end.

Andrew looked up to see Tsunade slumped on the table, passed out. A puddle of spilled sake pooled near her chin. He blinked, then groaned.

"Damn it. I knew this would happen."

He got up, walked over, and gently tried to lift her. She was heavy—blame her legendary strength and stature—and he was still technically underage.

"Why me?" he mumbled. "Hashirama, your descendant's drunk and I'm carrying her like a sack of potatoes. Happy now?"

Lifting her carefully, he made his way toward her apartment, weaving through the nighttime streets. Lanterns cast warm shadows, and villagers gave him strange looks. A boy carrying one of the Sannin on his back wasn't something they saw every day.

Still, he couldn't help but chuckle under his breath.

"If I survive this political mess," he muttered, "remind me to never answer when she calls again."

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