The boy with messy yellow hair and a faint beard on his upper lip could only be one person—Naruto Uzumaki, the eldest prince of Konoha.
When Andrew first arrived in this world, he'd briefly considered forming a connection with Naruto. But at that time, Naruto was nothing more than a squirming infant, barely able to hold his own bottle, let alone engage in any meaningful conversation. It wasn't worth the effort.
Later, when Naruto was a bit older, Andrew once again thought about approaching him. However, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, kept a tight grip on Naruto's surroundings due to his unique identity as the Jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails. No one from the Uchiha clan was allowed to get close, and the idea faded into the background.
Still, according to Andrew's internal timeline, Naruto should have reached the age where his talents began to emerge—and where accidents were bound to happen.
Sure enough, Andrew spotted Naruto sneaking up to the entrance of a popular barbecue shop with a mischievous glint in his eye and a suspicious-looking sack in hand.
Curious, Andrew activated his Sharingan—three tomoe spinning in each eye—to observe the contents of the sack.
What he saw made him freeze.
A giant, mushy pile of animal dung—likely from some oversized beast—oozing and sloshing inside the bag. It was both grotesque and oddly impressive in size. Naruto, without hesitation, lobbed it directly at the restaurant's entrance.
The customers inside, happily enjoying their grilled meats and skewers, had no idea what horror was about to descend upon them.
As the stench exploded across the entrance and the contents rained down like a dark, foul storm, panic erupted. Faces turned green. Some screamed. Some gagged.
"Hahaha! Catch me if you can, you idiots!" Naruto shouted gleefully, smacking his rear in mockery before sprinting away, leaving only chaos and confusion behind.
Andrew's mouth twitched involuntarily.
"This kid... really knows how to make an impression."
It was clear the village didn't treat Naruto kindly, but it was also becoming apparent that his own behavior wasn't helping his image. While Danzo had a hand in isolating the boy, Naruto's natural chaotic tendencies weren't exactly earning him fans either.
Still, Andrew had no intention of getting involved. He wasn't afraid of Hiruzen, but Naruto was under constant surveillance, probably even tighter than the Uchiha clan had ever experienced. Let the Hokage deal with that headache.
Just as he was about to return to his training—and finish writing his next "Ideological and Political Guidebook"—a sharp whistle pierced the air.
The Uchiha Police Department's emergency signal.
Without hesitation, Andrew vanished from the rooftop, instantly reappearing near the source—Uchiha Industry Street.
What he saw made his eyes narrow.
The street was in total chaos. Dozens of civilians were wrestling on the ground, and several shinobi—at least ten by rough count—were engaged in a wild brawl. Though they weren't elite, their status as genin made the situation far more dangerous than a typical bar fight.
And this wasn't a battlefield. This was the middle of the village, in Uchiha territory, surrounded by innocent civilians.
More concerningly, many of those civilians were from Uchiha families who worked or lived in the district. Two police department squads were present, but even they hesitated to dive into the madness. With so many people throwing punches and the unexpected involvement of ninjas, the situation had spiraled out of control quickly.
Andrew's eyes sharpened. Something was off. Very off.
Normally, when the police department arrived on the scene, even the rowdiest crowd would back down. The Uchiha name still carried weight. But not only had these troublemakers refused to calm down—they'd actually attacked the officers.
"They're not holding back," Andrew muttered. "They're provoking us deliberately. Who would be this bold, right in our own territory?"
He didn't wait for an answer. In a blink, he appeared next to a chunin who was grappling with an officer, spun, and landed a clean whip kick to the side of the shinobi's head, sending him crashing unconscious to the pavement.
"No more holding back!" he barked. "You hurt my people, and you fight in our streets—what do you think we are, made of clay?!"
The other Uchiha officers didn't need a second invitation. With grim faces, they activated their Sharingan and leapt into action. In under five minutes, every aggressor was groaning on the ground—some with broken bones, others with dislocated joints.
The Uchiha had made their point.
They didn't kill anyone, but they made sure the attackers wouldn't forget what it meant to assault law enforcement in Uchiha territory.
"Detain them all," Andrew ordered. "Run background checks. And then we're going straight to Lord Hokage. I want to know what kind of grudge within the village justifies group fights in broad daylight!"
Still, even as he gave the order, he had a sinking suspicion about the mastermind. Only one man could engineer something so chaotic and cowardly.
Danzo.
Was it retaliation for the Root operative Andrew had taken out? Probably. But it was such a petty scheme—sending a bunch of nobodies to stir up trouble, knowing full well they couldn't win.
After returning to the station, Andrew reviewed the files on the detained troublemakers.
Civilian backgrounds. No ties to any clan. Just a bunch of nobodies.
And the reason for the brawl?
An argument about "who was stronger." That's it. And when asked why they attacked the police, the answer was even more laughable:
"We didn't see clearly... we just grabbed someone and started swinging."
Andrew slammed his fist against the desk. Danzo had played this one smart. There was nothing incriminating. No paper trail. No Root signature. Just a meaningless, frustrating mess.
He couldn't even hold the attackers for more than a few days. Public safety regulations dictated that all detainees must be released after the detention period unless stronger charges were found.
Danzo's fingerprints were all over this—but they were invisible.
And things were only getting worse.
A few hours later, another squad dragged in a new group of detainees. More fighting. This time, a shop had been vandalized.
Then the next day—another store broken into.
The day after that—another brawl. Another round of complaints.
Within a week, Industrial Street had turned into a war zone. People stopped coming, fearing injury or worse. Businesses suffered. The once-bustling district became a ghost town.
Andrew clenched his teeth. He wanted to keep these troublemakers locked up for months. But each one had a flimsy, technically valid excuse.
He couldn't break the law. Not while trying to rebuild the Uchiha's reputation.
Fugaku Uchiha stormed into the department that night, red-faced and fuming.
"Andrew! This is unacceptable! The revenue from Industrial Street has dropped so sharply it's threatening our entire economic foundation!"
The Uchiha clan had been steadily recovering, especially after handing over control of the police department. Public image had improved. Their private businesses were flourishing.
But this economic momentum was fragile—barely off the ground. They couldn't afford to lose it.
Andrew understood. Deep down, he wanted to act. To retaliate. To hit Danzo where it hurt.
But the truth was, Danzo had left no trace—no evidence. Just the stink of malice.
He exhaled slowly. The plan for the Uchiha's "Five-Year Revival" was built on steady, legal progress—one stone at a time.
But now?
"If Danzo insists on playing dirty," Andrew said coldly, "then don't blame me for responding in kind. He played the first move. Now... it's time for my fifteen."
He hadn't wanted to escalate this fast. Moving too soon was dangerous—one misstep, and everything could unravel.
But Andrew had run out of patience. It was time to target the Shimura clan directly.
Let Danzo taste his own poison.
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