Following the confirmation that the genjutsu-based game did indeed stimulate and enhance the Sharingan within the Uchiha clan, the discussion naturally shifted to Uchiha Kei—the creator of this so-called "secret technique."
Under Uchiha Fugaku's cold and commanding gaze, several Uchiha working in the Konoha Police Force wore expressions of awkwardness and shame.
These were the very men who had flatly rejected Kei earlier that afternoon when he'd approached them to test his genjutsu game. They hadn't even shown the slightest interest in hearing him out—after all, in their eyes, Kei was nothing more than the disgrace of the Uchiha, much like the currently underachieving student Obito Uchiha. Both Kei and Obito had defied the clan's wishes and insisted on becoming shinobi despite lacking any real talent.
To be fair, by the standards of other clans, both Kei and Obito would have been considered outstanding. But among the Uchiha? If you weren't standing at the top of your age group, you were a failure.
Why did outsiders always view the Uchiha as a clan of prodigies? Was every Uchiha child born a genius?
Wrong. The reason was that the Uchiha clan screened its children long before they ever set foot in the Academy. Those deemed unworthy were assigned to other professions.
Of course, the Uchiha didn't strictly force these assignments. If someone truly refused to accept their lot and insisted on becoming a shinobi, they could—like Kei and Obito. But unless they produced remarkable results, they'd be labeled as disgraceful and lacking potential.
This relatively lenient approach only existed because of the peace Konoha had brought. During the Warring States Era, mere survival had been the only priority—there was no room for dreams.
Even now, while dream-chasing was allowed, those who defied clan expectations received no special support. They weren't denied resources outright, but they were only given the bare minimum. Extras were out of the question.
So it was for Kei and Obito. As shinobi, the clan gave them only the most basic resources—no subsidies, no bonuses.
From the Uchiha's perspective, this wasn't unjust. If it had been the Hyuga clan next door, those who disobeyed would have faced harsh punishment.
But the Uchiha didn't care about how other clans did things. Their comparisons were always internal.
And by Uchiha standards, Kei had received virtually no support or assistance. Even his position in the Konoha Police Force had been a desk job—an insulting logistics role viewed with contempt.
Now, with everything laid bare, the senior Uchiha in attendance felt deeply uneasy. Their expressions were filled with guilt.
Especially considering that Kei had long since moved out of the clan compound to live alone. It was hard not to wonder whether he'd given up on the clan entirely.
Fugaku's commanding gaze swept across the room, resting heavily on those with guilty hearts. Then he spoke solemnly:
"I trust you all have realized our mistake. In our treatment of Kei-dono, we were too arrogant and self-righteous. We never gave him the fairness he deserved.
"More accurately, we Uchiha have always judged talent solely by one's abilities as a shinobi—which is narrow-minded and flawed.
"Kei-dono is no mediocre man. On the contrary, he is a true genius, second to none. His talents simply lie beyond the conventional definition of shinobi skill."
As Fugaku spoke, those with guilty consciences lowered their heads, unable to meet his eyes.
Proud though they were, the Uchiha were also upright. When confronted with what they saw as a grave mistake, they didn't deny or excuse—it weighed on them deeply.
Especially with what Fugaku said next—it nearly drove some to seek death as penance.
"We're fortunate Kei-dono had a resolute heart and wasn't crushed by the clan's malice. He persevered in his own way, realized his potential, and ultimately created the genjutsu game.
"We must not let Kei-dono's success make us forget our fault. On the contrary, we must remember this unforgivable error and ensure it never happens again.
"Just think—had Kei-dono given up because of our neglect, had he never created the genjutsu game... the losses to our clan would have been unimaginable.
"The potential to awaken the Mangekyō... to help more of our kin unlock the Sharingan... all of it could have been lost."
"All because of our rigid system and foolish pride!"
At these words, the heads around the room bowed even lower, weighed down by dread and regret. Now that they had seen a new hope for the clan's future—perhaps even a greater one—the idea of losing it filled them with terror.
One elder stood abruptly, overcome with emotion. "I truly deserve death!" he cried, attempting to take his own life on the spot.
Naturally, he was stopped. But it left the impression that he'd be waking up at midnight slapping himself and muttering "I really should die."
The whole scene descended into chaos, like a slapstick comedy. If outsiders saw it, the Uchiha's aloof image would be shattered.
And yet, this *was* the Uchiha in truth. While proud, they were not monolithic. Each had their own personality. Not everyone was the same.
Once the commotion died down, Uchiha Shisui asked gravely, "Fugaku, since you brought this matter up—and since you're the one closest to Kei—surely you've prepared a plan for how to handle it?"
All eyes turned back to Fugaku.
Under the encouraging gaze of his father, Uchiha Masaki, Fugaku nodded with quiet confidence.
"Indeed. I first spoke with Kei-dono shortly after he graduated from the Academy. I recognized even then that his talent wasn't in traditional shinobi arts, but in his intelligence, willpower, and insight.
"Kei-dono possesses an inner strength few others have. No matter how thorny or harsh the path, he has never wavered.
"His current success isn't luck—it's the natural result of years of unwavering effort and self-belief.
"And now that he has achieved something unprecedented, he deserves to be rewarded accordingly. Our clan has long had a way of honoring those whose talents can uplift us all.
"What we must do now is grant Kei-dono every privilege he is owed—no more, no less."
The room fell into thoughtful silence.
After some discussion, consensus formed quickly: Kei should indeed receive these honors.
No one even considered the idea of exploiting him or imprisoning him for the clan's benefit.
As always, the Uchiha were not the Hyuga. Nor were they one of those other controlling shinobi clans. The Uchiha had always been a clan of pure love.
Even if outsiders saw that love as madness, the Uchiha had never wavered from it.
Once Kei's privileges were agreed upon, all that remained was to verify the efficacy of his "secret technique" the following day.
Even if the game worked only half as well as Fugaku claimed, Kei would receive the clan's highest honors—on par with the clan head or Shisui.
Ordinarily, someone like Kei—young, from a branch family—would never receive such treatment, even with great contributions.
But this time was different. This was also about atoning for the years of unfair treatment he had endured.
Kei himself may not have felt wronged. But this was one of those classic "your grandma thinks you're hungry" situations.
And so, Fugaku, the man behind it all, remained composed outwardly. But within, he was filled with joy and pride.
For once, he believed he had done the right thing—securing for Kei the rights he should have had long ago.