Kushina Uzumaki The Sage Of The Yuri Path

The air inside the Uchiha Clan's meeting hall was thick with tension. Shadows danced against the lacquered wood walls, cast by flickering candlelight, as a group of elders sat in a semicircle around Fugaku Uchiha, their expressions a mix of unease and frustration.

Seated at the head of the table, Fugaku remained impassive, arms crossed, his sharp eyes betraying none of the emotions roiling beneath the surface. The discussion had taken a turn that he had not expected.

"Lord Fugaku," one of the elders finally spoke, a man with silver streaks in his jet-black hair. "Your wife… is becoming a problem."

Fugaku's fingers tensed slightly before he responded. "Mikoto has always been an exceptional kunoichi. What is the issue?"

Another elder, a wiry man with a narrow gaze, leaned forward, his voice a hushed whisper of barely concealed disdain. "She is gathering followers."

That made Fugaku's brow twitch. "Followers?"

"Women," the first elder clarified, his lips twisting as if the word itself tasted sour. "She is training a group of Uchiha women—powerful ones. Young kunoichi, widows, even some mothers. And she is shaping them into something… dangerous."

A murmur of discontent rippled through the chamber.

"An Uchiha woman leading warriors?" another scoffed. "This is unheard of. Women are meant to support the clan, not form their own factions."

"It is a direct challenge to the established order," the silver-haired elder added, narrowing his eyes. "And a threat."

"She claims she needs her own center of power," the silver-haired elder continued. "She says that the men of this clan seek to control her life, and that she will not allow it."

Fugaku's jaw tightened imperceptibly. He had been aware of Mikoto's increased training, her newfound strength, and her interest in molding the next generation of kunoichi, but he had not expected her to start gathering a faction.

"Do we know the name of this… group?" he asked after a moment.

The elders exchanged glances, looking almost embarrassed before one of them finally muttered, "

"What... did she name it?" he asked, dreading the answer.

The silver-haired elder, usually so composed, looked utterly defeated.

"The... Uchiha Free Company."

Fugaku blinked.

A long silence followed.

"…The what?"

"The Uchiha Free Company," another elder muttered.

Fugaku's fingers curled into his sleeve. "I will speak with my wife."

Mikoto stood at the center of the training grounds, arms crossed, watching as a dozen Uchiha kunoichi sparred fiercely. They weren't timid housewives or reserved background figures—they were warriors, honing their techniques under her direct supervision.

A smirk played on her lips. This was her clan too.

The men in charge could sneer, dismiss her, pretend she was just a housewife.

That was fine.

Because she had power, and she was going to use it.

"Alright, ladies!" Mikoto clapped her hands. "We need to talk about speed and counterattacks! Who here thinks they can land a hit on me?"

The group hesitated, before one bold woman stepped forward.

"I can try, Mikoto-sama!"

Mikoto smirked. "Good. Try."

The woman moved instantly, lunging forward—

And in the next second, she was face down in the dirt, groaning in pain.

Mikoto sighed.

"You're still thinking like them. You're waiting for a moment, looking for an opening. We don't wait. We move first."

The group nodded furiously, taking notes.

"Now!" Mikoto called out. "Let's go again!"

Fugaku arrived at the training grounds just in time to witness another kunoichi eat dirt.

His expression was unreadable. "Mikoto."

She turned to him with lazy amusement, crossing her arms.

"Husband."

He took a slow breath. "We need to talk."

Mikoto tilted her head. "Oh? Are you here to spar? Because I would love to—"

"That's not why I'm here."

The gathered kunoichi, sensing political tension, wisely backed away.

Fugaku's voice was calm, but firm. "You're gathering too much influence, Mikoto."

Mikoto sighed. "And here I thought you'd be more supportive."

"Supportive?" Fugaku's eyebrow twitched. "You're forming an entirely separate military unit."

"So?" Mikoto shrugged. "You have your influence. I need my own."

"That's not how this clan works."

"And that's why the clan is dying."

Silence.

Fugaku stared at her, stunned.

"I see it, Fugaku." Her Sharingan spun lazily. "The elders. You. Everyone in power. You're leading us straight into oblivion."

Fugaku tensed.

"And when it happens?" Mikoto continued. "I want to be ready."

Her tone was calm, but the weight behind her words was undeniable.

Fugaku looked at her for a long time. Then he turned on his heel.

"Do what you want, then."

Mikoto smiled.

Sasuke stood in the middle of the training ground, kunai clenched in his fist.

Across from him, his mother stood with her arms crossed, unimpressed.

"Again."

Sasuke lunged.

Mikoto barely moved before she dodged effortlessly, flipping him over like it was nothing.

Sasuke hit the ground with a pathetic grunt.

He groaned.

"Why is this happening to me?"

From the sidelines, Itachi watched quietly.

He was smart. He wasn't getting involved.

Mikoto sighed. "You two are going to be a problem when you're older, so don't ask stupid questions you already know the answer to.

Then she kicked Sasuke one more time for good measure.

Sasuke wailed dramatically.

Itachi slowly backed away.

"I'm not training today, Mother."

Mikoto's Sharingan flickered. "You sure?"

Itachi vanished immediately.

That night, Mikoto sat alone in the dark, her Sharingan spinning slowly.

The visions were brief, fragmented—flashes of what was to come.

Blood.

Betrayal.

A massacre.

And yet…

Somewhere within those flickers, there was a different path.

A future where she was free.

And in that vision, she wasn't alone.

Her Sharingan burned, her vision trembling as she saw herself standing beside another woman.

Mikoto exhaled, closing her eyes.

"Not yet."

But soon.

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