Logically speaking, a ninja who loses contact with the village would immediately attempt to re-establish communication. Back then, when Uchiha Kawa vanished for several months, the village came to the grim conclusion that he had perished.
"As for how he managed to survive and why he didn't reach out to the village... that remains a mystery," Orochimaru said, the gleam of curiosity and ambition in his eyes dimming.
He composed himself, adjusting his tone and expression. His demeanor shifted from that of a scheming snake to a patient teacher, as he carefully explained to Akira the rationale behind the mistaken report of Uchiha Kawa's death.
Although Uchiha Kawa had slipped through his fingers, Orochimaru hadn't given up. Akira was still within his grasp—a brilliant, malleable soul full of potential. He wouldn't allow this opportunity to vanish too.
Akira tilted his head in confusion, glancing around. "Then... where is Kawa now?"
The Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, exhaled deeply, weariness seeping into his voice. "He's already gone."
"Gone? But he came back, didn't he? Why would he leave again?!" Akira's voice cracked with urgency.
The Third Hokage didn't answer immediately. Instead, he posed a question of his own. "Akira, what kind of person is Kawa? Could you tell us more about him?"
Akira was momentarily caught off guard. He furrowed his brows and feigned contemplation. The truth was, Uchiha Akira's memories of Kawa before their father's death were shrouded in fog—distant and ungraspable.
What he did know, however, came from his mother: Kawa had once been a kind, gentle boy who was always looking after his family and eager to help his friends. But everything changed after the death of their father. Kawa grew quiet, withdrawn, and emotionally distant. He threw himself into training as if burdened by an invisible weight, and in that time, he awakened the Sharingan.
These were the things Akira remembered—the version of Kawa he knew. They had never been particularly close. Yet if Kawa could awaken the Mangekyo Sharingan after killing Akira, that suggested their bond had run deeper than memory alone could capture.
Some feelings, Akira mused, couldn't be etched into the mind. They resided in the soul.
He shared what he could with the Third Hokage—truthful fragments, carefully chosen, while omitting the darker, more personal parts of their relationship.
The Third Hokage listened intently, his eyes growing more somber. He thought back to what Tobirama had once told him about the Uchiha—the Sharingan awakened through intense emotional trauma, and the Mangekyo through unimaginable loss.
It all fit. Kawa's Sharingan had likely awakened after their father's death. The death of their mother must have catalyzed something even more profound within him—pushing him toward the Mangekyo, and changing him irreversibly.
Still, it didn't explain why he hadn't defected immediately. There must have been something else—some unknown event that occurred during his absence.
Then the Third Hokage turned to Akira again. "What do you know about the Mangekyo Sharingan? That power Kawa used to defeat Shukaku—it looked like the legendary Mangekyo. Do you know how he awakened it?"
Akira shook his head. "I don't know much. I've only heard the clan elders mention it in passing. It's been so long since anyone awakened it, even the clan leader doesn't know how it works."
He hesitated, then added, "When Kawa killed Pakura... he mentioned it had something to do with our mother's death."
The Third Hokage nodded, the pieces falling into place. It confirmed his hypothesis: The Mangekyo Sharingan is born when a powerful, special chakra within the Uchiha's heart is pushed to its limit by emotional turmoil—grief, love turned to loss.
But it wasn't that simple. Many Uchiha had lost loved ones in war, yet few had awakened the Mangekyo. It must require not only great emotional pain but also extraordinary talent and a depth of feeling most couldn't comprehend.
The Third Hokage thought he understood now. Kawa's love for the village must have curdled into resentment after their mother's death. He likely didn't even realize the extent of his power until he was thrust into battle. Once he recognized it—once the Mangekyo bloomed—he abandoned the village and sought vengeance on Sunagakure's Pakura.
And perhaps, high on power and madness, he'd planned to destroy even more. Just earlier, Kawa looked ready to kill them all—only refraining because he was injured.
The Hokage shared these thoughts with Akira, watching the boy's expression fall into disappointment.
Sarutobi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know how painful it is to know your brother is still out there, and yet unreachable.
But Akira... Kawa hasn't attacked the village. Not yet. And if, one day, he decides to return, the village will welcome him with open arms."
Akira brushed away imaginary tears and forced a small smile. "Thank you, Lord Third. I still believe he might come back one day. And even if he doesn't, I have Orochimaru-sensei, my teammates, and everyone here. The village is my family."
He straightened up, eyes firm. "If there ever comes a day when Kawa threatens the village, I won't hesitate. I'll stop him myself, no matter the cost. The village is everything to me."
Sarutobi's heart lifted. The Mangekyo Sharingan might be lost, but what they had gained was far more valuable: a young Uchiha with a true Will of Fire. Stable. Loyal. Powerful. Akira's potential could far surpass Kawa's one day.
After a moment of thought, the Third Hokage asked gently, "Akira... do you wish to awaken the Mangekyo Sharingan yourself?"
Akira blinked, momentarily caught off guard. What was the Hokage implying?
He didn't need it. He already possessed more power than anyone knew—two Mangekyo, in fact. But from the perspective of an ordinary Uchiha, the Mangekyo was the ultimate dream.
He hesitated, then nodded.
Sarutobi sighed and began to explain the theory he had pieced together about the Mangekyo. In truth, he should never have revealed such dangerous knowledge. If word spread among the Uchiha, it could lead to unthinkable bloodshed.
But Akira was different. He trusted him.
As he listened, Akira's face lit up briefly with mock wonder, then sank into an expression of sorrow. "So that's the cost... I didn't expect the Mangekyo to come at such a cruel price. It's better not to awaken it at all."
He gave a hollow laugh. "My parents are gone, and now Kawa too. If I wanted to awaken it, I'd have to destroy the very people I call family. That's not a price I'm willing to pay."
Sarutobi's expression softened. He saw no ambition in the boy's eyes—only pain, resolve, and maturity far beyond his years.
A rare gem. A true protector of Konoha.
Yes, they had lost Uchiha Kawa to the shadows... but they had Uchiha Akira, and that made all the difference.
The Third Hokage had already returned to the village. Konoha could not remain without a Hokage for long. Jiraiya had also left, heading back to his battlefield to handle his own responsibilities.
Only Orochimaru remained on the Wind Country front to deal with the numerous follow-up matters. Among them: negotiating Sunagakure's surrender terms, overseeing the acceptance of their ransom, and organizing the phased withdrawal of Konoha's wounded troops. Yet, a complete retreat was not possible.
Though Sunagakure had surrendered, trust in the world of shinobi was a fragile thing. Until the alliance agreement was officially signed and ratified, a large contingent of Konoha's forces would remain stationed near the Fire Country's border. A full retreat might tempt Sunagakure to retaliate. Vigilance, even in victory, was essential.
In the rear command post of the battlefield, the main body of Konoha's Wind Country force was now concentrated. Camps and outposts that once held strategic value were being abandoned. Most shinobi had relaxed expressions, their fatigue tempered by relief and the anticipation of returning home to loved ones.
Akira and his team were among those preparing to leave. Though technically still a Genin team, their performance in the war—particularly Akira's—had earned them recognition far beyond their rank. Despite this, the border defenses required neither Genin nor elite Jonin. So, Akira, Anko, Hayate, and even the quietly dependable Kosuke were slated to return to Konoha.
While Anko and Hayate packed their belongings, chatting about hot springs and ramen stands they'd visit upon their return, Akira found himself once again walking beside Orochimaru. The pale Sannin had insisted on his company for another round of battlefield inspection.
Akira inwardly sighed. He didn't want to be here. What he truly wanted was to leave—return to Konoha, rest, and distance himself from the unnerving presence of Orochimaru. Yet, he plastered on a polite smile and followed, responding to Orochimaru's probing questions with vague, safe answers.
As they strolled past abandoned camps, Orochimaru suddenly shifted the tone of conversation.
"Akira," he began, his voice unusually soft, "after everything we've seen here—the deaths, the chaos—do you not feel the weight of it? Does it not make you question the meaning of such fragile, fleeting lives?"
Akira tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with philosophical intent.
"Life is like a shooting star, burning brightly and disappearing too soon," Orochimaru continued, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Isn't it tragic? So many die without a trace, their names lost to time. Doesn't that make you long for something greater—something eternal?"
Akira stopped, staring straight ahead. "No," he said with quiet certainty. "I think that's exactly what gives life meaning. Because it's fleeting, it's precious. Every person who fought and died here—Konoha or Sunagakure—they mattered. They gave everything for something larger than themselves. That isn't meaningless. That's legacy."
Orochimaru's lips curled slightly. "But their legacy will fade. Their descendants will die. The village will one day crumble. Isn't it more meaningful to live forever—to keep seeing, learning, evolving?"
Akira shook his head. "We strive to leave something behind because we know we won't last. If we lived forever, we might stop striving at all. We might lose the fire that makes us human. Immortality isn't the answer—it's the illusion."
For a moment, Orochimaru was quiet. He had hoped the war might break down Akira's ideals, make him more malleable, more open to his way of thinking. Yet here was his brightest student, not only unmoved but speaking words that struck something in him—an echo of a truth he'd long since buried.
His fingers twitched, then clenched. No—he couldn't be swayed. Not by a child.
But before he could press further, a commotion erupted nearby. Cries of awe and murmurs of respect rippled through a small crowd of Konoha shinobi.
"Incredible... she healed him so quickly! That must be the legendary shrine maiden—Lady Yakushi Nonou!"
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed, and Akira seized the chance to slip away. He moved swiftly toward the commotion, eager to escape the conversation. Orochimaru followed, his interest piqued.
In the center of the crowd stood a woman with calm eyes and a faint smile, wiping sweat from her brow as she gave instructions to a bespectacled boy beside her.
"Kabuto," she said, "go ahead and close the wound. I want you to try it yourself."
The boy—perhaps twelve or thirteen—nodded eagerly and began suturing the patient with remarkable precision. Akira's eyes widened. This boy had skill—real skill. The kind that could only come from innate talent, guided by excellent teaching.
Nonou watched him work with pride. She looked up just as Akira approached.
"Aunt Nonou," he greeted warmly, smiling with genuine surprise. "I heard you were on the battlefield, but I didn't think we'd meet just as we were preparing to leave."
She turned, her face lighting up. "Oh! Akira—it really is you. I've been hearing all about your exploits lately. Konoha's Lightning Flash, they call you now. It seems you've become quite the hero."
Akira flushed and scratched the back of his head. "They're just exaggerating. I've just done what needed to be done."
His eyes drifted to Kabuto. There was something familiar about the boy, a subtle impression that tugged at his memory.
"Who's this? I don't think I've seen him around before," Akira asked.
Nonou smiled gently. "This is Kabuto. He was found by Konoha forces, possibly from Sunagakure, though we can't be sure. He had a head injury and lost his memory. Since he had no one, I took him in."
Akira looked at the boy more closely. White hair, glasses, quiet focus—this was Yakushi Kabuto. A name that would one day shake the shinobi world.
"He's shown extraordinary aptitude for medical ninjutsu," Nonou added. "I taught him just a little, and he's already mastered more than I expected."
Orochimaru finally caught up, and the moment his eyes landed on Kabuto, something shifted in his expression. There was intrigue, appreciation, perhaps even ambition. He recognized what Akira had seen as well.
Yet, Orochimaru said nothing—just watched.
Kabuto finished his task and returned to Nonou's side. She introduced him to the two towering figures before him.
The boy shrank slightly under Orochimaru's cold gaze, avoiding his eyes. But when he turned to Akira, curiosity sparkled in his eyes.
"You're... Akira? Konoha's Lightning Flash?"
Akira smiled and extended a hand. "Just Akira is fine. It's nice to meet you, Kabuto. I've heard you're quite the talent yourself."
Kabuto blushed slightly, glancing away. He felt something strange in that moment—a mix of admiration, envy, and longing. Akira seemed so confident, so certain of his place in the world. And Kabuto... didn't even know who he truly was.
As Orochimaru silently studied the boy, and Akira watched both of them with a contemplative look, a new thought settled into Akira's mind.
He had seen the way Orochimaru looked at Kabuto.
If he couldn't pull Akira into his path, Orochimaru might begin planting his seeds elsewhere.
Akira narrowed his eyes slightly.
He would need to keep an eye on Kabuto, and on Orochimaru as well.