The world around Izumi Uchiha had fallen silent.
It wasn't the calm silence of peace, but the heavy, suffocating void that follows a tragedy so sharp it cuts straight through the heart.
Her knees trembled where she stood.
Her hands hung limp at her sides, the tips of her fingers still faintly shaking as if they had forgotten what to do in a world without the warmth of the woman who had always been there for her.
Her mother's lifeless body lay sprawled on the cold wooden floor, the blood spreading beneath her like a dark, merciless stain that seemed to eat away at the light in the room.
Izumi's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming in broken gasps.
A lump pressed tightly in her throat, making each inhalation painful.
Her mind screamed at her to move, to run to her mother's side, to shake her awake — but her legs felt like they were chained to the earth.
Tears blurred her vision, spilling down her cheeks in warm streaks, but even through the blur, she could still see the horror.
Her mother's eyes, once so full of love, were now empty.
The gentle smile that had always greeted Izumi when she came home was gone, replaced by the pale stillness of death.
A sob tore its way out of her throat.
The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the still air, like it didn't belong in the same space as the lifeless body before her.
It hurt — it hurt more than any wound a blade could give.
Her three-tomoe Sharingan spun wildly in her eyes, fueled by a storm of emotions she could barely contain — grief, rage, and a desperation so intense it felt like it would crush her from the inside out.
The tomoe whirled faster and faster, their rotation becoming a blur.
Her tears didn't stop falling, yet the heat in her eyes grew, as if something inside them was about to burst free.
Her breathing turned ragged, every exhale shaking.
She clutched at her chest as the pounding of her heart seemed to sync with the spinning of her eyes.
Then — in a moment so sudden it felt like reality itself cracked — the familiar pattern of her Sharingan began to shift.
The tomoe stretched and bent, melting into one another as if drawn into a vortex.
Lines twisted into complex, almost otherworldly shapes, forming a pattern unlike anything she had seen before.
The deep crimson of her irises seemed to glow, casting a faint, ominous light across her tear-streaked face.
Izumi had awakened it.
Her Mangekyō Sharingan.
Her heart pounded even harder, but along with the pain in her chest came a strange clarity.
She could feel the new power coursing through her — not in her muscles, but deep within her very soul.
In that moment, visions of her wishes became vividly clear.
If only… if only she could stop time, she could take her mother away from here.
If only she could reverse what had just happened, she could bring her back.
Her Mangekyō Sharingan answered.
The first ability revealed itself to her in an instinctive rush: Time Freeze — the power to halt the flow of time itself, locking the world into stillness for a precious few seconds.
It was a fleeting miracle, yet even that could be enough to save a life… if used at the right moment.
The second ability followed, dark and bittersweet: Izanagi — the forbidden technique that could rewrite reality, reviving anyone or even herself from death.
The power came with a severe price — once used, it would be on a forty-eight-hour cooldown before it could be called upon again.
Her breath trembled.
This wasn't just power.
It was hope.
A fragile, dangerous hope, but one she would grasp with both hands if it meant she could protect the ones she loved.
She slowly raised her gaze.
Standing a short distance away was the man who had taken everything from her in the span of a heartbeat — Itachi Uchiha.
The dim light from the room caught the edge of his face, revealing nothing but calm, unreadable eyes.
But for the first time since arriving, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his features.
"It can't be…" he murmured, almost to himself.
That pattern in her eyes — he knew it well.
Mangekyō Sharingan.
A power only awakened under the most extreme emotional turmoil, often through the loss of someone precious.
Not good, Itachi thought.
Her sudden awakening meant she was no longer just another opponent — she was dangerous.
A battle with someone wielding Mangekyō Sharingan could no longer be taken lightly.
Izumi's lips curled into a snarl, her tears still flowing but her gaze now hard as steel.
Her voice, raw from grief, cut through the stillness like a blade.
"Itachi… I will kill you!"
The words carried no hesitation, no doubt.
They were not a threat — they were a vow.
Her chakra surged in response, rippling through the air like an invisible wave.
The very atmosphere seemed to tense under the pressure, the floorboards beneath her feet groaning faintly.
Each drop of blood that had fallen from her mother's body seemed to burn into her memory, fueling her with a rage she had never known before.
Itachi's expression remained composed, but internally he shifted into readiness.
If she intended to fight with the resolve of a true Uchiha, then he would meet her in kind.
Izumi took a single step forward, the floor creaking beneath her foot.
Her Mangekyō Sharingan spun slowly, deliberately, as if savoring its first moments in battle.
They stood only meters apart now, each assessing the other.
For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them — predator and prey, though neither could yet be sure who was which.
A faint breeze slipped in through the open window, carrying with it the scent of iron from the blood in the air.
The flickering shadows from the lone lantern on the wall danced between them like restless spirits waiting for the clash to begin.
Then — Izumi moved.
Her hands clenched, her legs tensed, and her eyes locked onto Itachi's.
The first strike had not yet landed, but the battle had already begun in their minds.
The silence between them shattered like fragile glass as Izumi Uchiha's roar echoed in the night air, raw and drenched in grief.
Her voice carried the weight of her loss, a promise carved from rage itself.
"Itachi… I will kill you!"
The words tore through the space, reverberating off the walls of the burning compound.
Her Mangekyō Sharingan, freshly awakened, glimmered with a dangerous light — the intricate, spiraling pattern swirling like a whirlpool of vengeance in her crimson eyes.
The power behind that gaze seemed almost tangible, pressing against the very air, thickening it until each breath felt heavy.
Itachi narrowed his eyes slightly.
For a brief, unreadable moment, his expression flickered.
Even for him — the prodigy of the Uchiha clan — to see such an evolution under these conditions was troubling.
Not good, he thought silently, the three tomoe in his own Sharingan spinning with mechanical precision.
Izumi's body trembled, not with fear, but with the sheer surge of chakra flooding through her veins.
Her fists clenched tightly, nails digging into her palms, but she didn't care.
Every fiber of her being screamed for retribution.
Without another word, she lunged forward.
Her sandals scraped violently against the blood-slick ground, leaving small arcs of dirt and ash behind her.
Her right fist came first, a straight-line punch aimed at Itachi's jaw, the movement fueled by an explosive burst from her leg muscles.
Itachi leaned back with flawless control, the tip of her knuckles grazing the air just in front of his face.
Even as he evaded, his own counter came — his foot snapping upward in a sharp, lightning-fast kick toward her abdomen.
Izumi twisted mid-motion, the newly heightened perception of her Mangekyō Sharingan mapping his trajectory perfectly.
Her forearm slammed against his shin, deflecting the blow, but the impact still rippled through her bones.
She gritted her teeth.
In the next heartbeat, they were both moving again — fists, elbows, knees, and feet colliding in a chaotic rhythm of taijutsu.
Each strike was met with a block, each kick countered by a dodge.
Their speed was so great that the faint shimmer of afterimages lingered behind them, the night illuminated in short bursts by the occasional clash of chakra-coated limbs.
Itachi's movements were calm, precise — the product of countless hours of rigorous ANBU training.
Izumi's, however, were wild yet sharpened by desperation, driven by a need that ignored all caution.
Her strikes came in unpredictable flurries, her body twisting and pivoting with an almost feral agility.
A sharp crack rang out as Itachi caught her punch and twisted, forcing her back a step.
But she refused to yield — her left foot slid forward, anchoring her stance, and she swung her other arm in a wide arc, forcing him to release her.
The ground beneath them was scuffed and torn, small stones scattering under the force of their movements.
Then, in a sudden blur, Izumi's Mangekyō Sharingan pulsed.
The very air around them seemed to still — her Time Freeze technique activated without conscious hesitation.
To her, the world froze.
The flickering of flames halted mid-dance.
The drifting ash hung suspended, each particle like a tiny crystal.
Itachi's body was locked mid-step, his cloak caught in the middle of a sway.
Izumi's breath came hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her eyes never left him.
She moved forward slowly, the silence of frozen time pressing in on her like the deep ocean.
Her fingers curled tightly around a kunai she had retrieved from her pouch.
Step by step, she closed the distance, raising the blade toward his throat.
But even as she moved, she could feel the strain of the technique clawing at her mind.
Her vision darkened slightly at the edges, the unnatural stillness demanding an immense toll.
Seconds stretched unnaturally long, each heartbeat echoing in her ears like a drum.
She stopped just before him.
Her arm trembled — not from hesitation, but from the overwhelming force of her chakra consumption.
Then, with a sharp gasp, the world roared back to life.
The flames resumed their crackling dance, ash resumed its lazy descent, and Itachi — perfectly aware of what had just happened — tilted his head ever so slightly.
His Sharingan caught the reflection of her Mangekyō, recognition flashing in his gaze.
"You've gained… dangerous abilities," he said quietly, his tone unreadable.
Izumi didn't respond.
Instead, she darted in again, kunai slashing toward him in a rapid arc.
Itachi met her strike with his own kunai, the metallic clang ringing out as sparks danced between the blades.
Their weapons locked for a moment, both applying pressure, their faces only inches apart.
She could see it now — the faint shadow of emotion buried deep in his gaze.
But she didn't care.
Emotion or not, he had killed her mother.
With a sudden twist, she disengaged, spinning low to sweep his legs.
Itachi jumped back lightly, avoiding the sweep entirely, but Izumi followed immediately with a barrage of shuriken, each one spinning in a deadly spiral toward him.
He deflected most with precise wrist flicks, the blades clattering harmlessly to the ground, but one grazed his shoulder, slicing through fabric and drawing a thin line of blood.
For the first time, her lips curled into a bitter smirk.
The sight of even the smallest wound felt like a victory.
Itachi didn't react outwardly, but his Sharingan spun faster, analyzing every micro-movement she made.
Then, with almost casual grace, he weaved through a rapid series of hand seals.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!"
Small, rapid-fire bursts of flame shot toward her in a staggered pattern, each one weaving unpredictably through the air.
Izumi's Mangekyō spun as she sidestepped and ducked, the heat licking at her skin, her hair whipping around her face from the force.
One flame clipped her arm, the searing burn sending a sharp jolt of pain through her.
She hissed, but instead of retreating, she charged straight through the last wave of fire, her kunai raised again.
Their clash continued — steel against steel, fire against willpower, Sharingan against Sharingan.
Every movement was precise yet vicious, every strike accompanied by the sound of cloth tearing, steel ringing, or the crunch of footfalls against broken ground.
The night around them was alive with destruction, the battle painting streaks of chaos through the already ruined Uchiha district.
Neither was willing to back down.
Izumi's grief-fed rage burned too hot to let her stop, and Itachi's resolve to end this night's mission remained unshaken.
Their battle was far from over.
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End of Chapter
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