Chapter 161: The Justice Ideology of the Uchiha Clan

The next day, Uchiha Fugaku sensed something was off among the members of the Investigation Corps.

Though he knew full well that he had lost all authority within the Uchiha clan—many of his own kin refused even to address him as clan head—surely they could still call him Captain? After all, his position as head of the Investigation Corps was still official, unquestionable.

Yet upon arriving at the Investigation Corps headquarters, Fugaku found one after another of his fellow Uchiha ninjas merely glance at him with blank indifference before turning away, as if he were invisible. Not a single one offered a greeting, or even the slightest interest in speaking.

This…

Could it be that something had happened recently—something that had once again shattered whatever remaining respect he still held in the eyes of his people?

Carrying that uneasy weight in his heart, Fugaku kept his expression utterly neutral.

He walked past row after row of clan members, his steps silent and deliberate, until he reached the office of the Corps’ Captain. Then, he summoned his most trusted Investigation Corps ninja—a senior Uchiha Jonin, older even than himself.

“Anything unusual in the clan recently?” Fugaku asked without preamble.

His instincts told him something significant had occurred in the past two days, something he hadn’t been told.

The Jonin hesitated.

After a moment, remembering how Fugaku had always shown him kindness in the past, he sighed inwardly and replied, “Fugaku Clan Head… Last night, a private gathering was held within the Uchiha clan—specifically among members of the Investigation Corps. There were no moderates, no radicals. Only those who follow Uchiha Iizumi’s Absolute Justice faction.”

Fugaku fell silent for a few seconds.

“Expected. Logical,” he finally said, then lifted his gaze. “You were there, weren’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t know so precisely. They wouldn’t have told you otherwise—this was meant to stay hidden.”

The Jonin remained silent.

Fugaku shook his head. “I won’t blame you for siding with Iizumi. Though I see it as a mistake, it’s your right.”

“I attended,” the Jonin admitted.

Fugaku’s expression hardened. “What did you discuss? I’d like to know. If there are secrets, just tell me what isn’t strictly confidential.”

He paused, then added, “And… was this meeting initiated by Iizumi himself?”

The Jonin shook his head. “We didn’t even notify him. We know how busy he is. He probably wouldn’t have time to attend something like this.”

Fugaku froze.

So even without Iizumi’s call, those Uchiha who believed in Absolute Justice had already begun moving toward his ideology on their own?

When Fugaku had urged them to calm down, to avoid hostility toward the village—why had they not responded with such initiative then?

He didn’t understand.

“There’s no real secret here,” the Jonin continued. “Even those who don’t follow Absolute Justice have caught whispers. You’re unaware only because no one came to tell you.”

The truth was a blade, swift and sharp, cutting through Fugaku’s composure.

“We were discussing… what truly constitutes Uchiha Iizumi’s Absolute Justice. How should the Uchiha clan fulfill its duty to Justice to be considered truly Absolute? We shared our ideas, collected the valuable ones, and compiled them into a single document.”

“Originally, we envisioned it as a Manual of Absolute Justice—a kind of official guide, like the Investigation Corps’ code of conduct. But before finalizing it, we wanted Iizumi to review it. Only he can define what true Justice truly is.”

Fugaku stood there, speechless.

Their initiative was staggering.

If only they’d channeled that energy into building peace between the Uchiha and the Leaf Village, instead of this… this ideological fervor—then perhaps the clan wouldn’t be on the brink of collapse.

“Fugaku Clan Head… There’s something I should tell you… but I’m not sure if I should.”

You’ve already started—so go ahead.

Fugaku’s voice was cold. “Speak.”

“We invited your wife, Mikoto-sama. But she declined. Perhaps because her position is… delicate. But since you didn’t know, she didn’t tell you. Maybe she has her own reasons.”

Fugaku stared, stunned.

What kind of nonsense was this?

The axe of Absolute Justice had once again swung at his own home.

First, it stole his second son, Sasuke.

Now, it was targeting his wife?

Heat surged through him.

…

“Manual of Absolute Justice…”

Uchiha Iizumi stood motionless, staring at the rough drafts handed to him. He flipped through them casually, then looked up at the three Investigation Corps Jonin before him.

“Who wrote this?”

The question was simple—but the three Uchiha Jonin flinched as if struck.

One of them swallowed hard and answered, “It’s the result of collective discussion among all those who follow you. We referenced many of your real cases when administering Justice.”

“Hmph. More than a manual,” Iizumi mused, “it’s almost like a record of my own life—repeated, word for word.”

He flipped through a few more pages. The man wasn’t wrong.

If you changed just a few terms, anyone reading it might think it was Fugaku’s personal journal of Justice.

The philosophical foundation of Absolute Justice was surprisingly solid. The group had clearly thought deeply. They hadn’t twisted the concept into extremism.

In other words…

No personal bias.

No private agendas.

“If there’s anything wrong, we can correct it immediately,” one Jonin offered.

“Not bad,” Iizumi said slowly. “Since you’re compiling this, it means you’re ready to dedicate your lives to Justice. Then, next time we hold a clan meeting, you can invite me.”

The three Jonin froze.

“What?!”

What did that mean?

Was he finally going to begin ideological construction for Absolute Justice?

Was this the beginning of Absolute Justice’s true rise?

One of them stammered, trembling with awe and excitement, “Does this mean… you’ve accepted us?”

“Only if you pass the test,” Iizumi said. “Both Uchiha Iizumi and Mitarashi Anko underwent the strictest trials under Absolute Justice. Justice doesn’t tolerate incompetence. It demands sincerity.”

He paused, his face expressionless.

“Good. I have a trial perfect for the three of you.”

The three Jonin straightened instantly, their postures rigid, their usual Uchiha arrogance gone.

To an outsider, it might have looked like Iizumi was the real Captain of the Investigation Corps—the true leader of the Uchiha clan.

“Do you know Merchant Kado?” Iizumi asked.

“Of course,” one replied. “A greedy, ruthless man. No morals—just profit. But he’s rich, so many in the Ninja World still work with him. Even the Leaf Village has dealings with him. But…”

Most of his associates have already been killed by you—or locked up in the Leaf’s prison. The thought flashed in his mind—but he didn’t say it aloud.

“I have a lead on one of his close aides,” Iizumi said calmly. “Find him. Use him to track down Kado. Then bring me his head.”

He paused.

“Complete this task, and half of Absolute Justice’s approval is yours.”

Then, with finality: “If it seems too hard… too troublesome… you’re free to go back home.”

The Jonin exchanged glances.

Then, one spoke.

“We accept the mission.”

…

That afternoon, Fugaku returned home and immediately sought out Mikoto.

He faced her, his voice low and strained.

“Why did you hide the clan meeting from me?”

Mikoto heard the anger beneath his tone.

Fugaku was furious—hurt, even.

But as her husband, as clan head, as Captain of the Investigation Corps—he had every right to know.

She sighed. “You know I was invited. You also know I didn’t attend.”

“That’s not the point,” Fugaku said coldly. “The point is, you hid it. I’m your husband. I’m the clan head. I’m the Captain. No matter which role I play, you should’ve told me.”

“There’s a reason,” she said gently.

“Speak.”

Fugaku took a deep breath. He was patient. He was conciliatory. He knew when to back down.

But that didn’t mean he lacked fury—especially when it involved his wife.

“Fugaku… haven’t you noticed how unstable you’ve become? You weren’t like this when Itachi was alive.”

Mikoto exhaled. “If I’d told you, you’d have stormed the meeting. And I couldn’t guarantee you wouldn’t do something reckless—something extreme. That’s my fear.”

“So I chose silence. Let the truth unfold naturally.”

Fugaku stared at her, long and hard.

“So you’re saying… you don’t trust me?”

Mikoto’s brow furrowed. “I’m doing this for you. You’re not strong enough. You’d only make things worse. And Absolute Justice wouldn’t tolerate you.”

Absolute Justice.

Again.

Sasuke had followed it. Now Mikoto. The entire clan was drifting toward it.

But hadn’t Iizumi’s Absolute Justice already made the village stranger?

Hadn’t it pushed the Uchiha further toward the edge of conflict with the village?

Because Absolute Justice would clash with the Hokage and the Leaf leadership.

Few in the village’s upper ranks were truly clean.

And when Justice grew strong, conflict would become inevitable.

And the Uchiha clan would suffer.

In essence, Iizumi’s Absolute Justice and Uchiha Setsuna’s coup ideology had the same destructive outcome.

Fugaku closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, his gaze was hollow.

“I’m returning to the Investigation Corps,” he said quietly. “No need to cook dinner tonight. And don’t prepare anything for tomorrow morning.”

He didn’t look back.

He could feel it—the rift between them.

A chasm that might never be bridged.

He had no energy left to argue.

“Fugaku…”

Before Mikoto could speak further, Fugaku turned away and cut her off.

“I know what you’re going to say. Let me be clear: I don’t believe in Absolute Justice. My perspective is utterly different from yours.”

“I stand as clan head. I see the worsening relationship between the Uchiha and the village leadership. No matter what I do, Iizumi undermines it all.”

“Instead of trying to change me, you should go visit Itachi’s grave. Since the Robed Tomb was built, you’ve never been there. Have you?”

“Because you’re disappointed in his choices. But you admire Sasuke’s.”

Fugaku exhaled, heavier than before.

Because he realized—his wife’s shift in heart was still tied to Iizumi.

“In the end… you’ve never truly stood by me. Your vision is too narrow. Too… feminine.”

His tone was icy.

Mikoto’s brows drew tighter.

She felt lost.

The minds of her husband, her son—she couldn’t understand them anymore.

Both were stubborn.

Like two halves of the same stubborn soul.

…

…

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end