Uchiha Itachi gazed at Shisui's Mangekyō in his palm, and in that instant the eye's power ignited.A violent surge of chakra tore through the fabric of space, dragging his consciousness into a strange and suffocating connection.
A thick, blood-red mist roared outward, swallowing him whole.The world twisted.
Itachi's body remained motionless in reality, but his mind was wrenched into a dark void—an endless expanse without form, where faint shadows drifted like dying embers.
His heart tightened.This was no illusion. He was standing inside Shisui's memory.
And before his eyes, the scene unfolded—The night Shisui died.
Shisui had resolved to walk away from the Uchiha clan's madness. He intended to negotiate with the Konoha higher-ups, to prevent bloodshed.But just as he stepped past the clan's compound gates… he stopped.
His breath faltered. A faint hesitation crossed his expression. Then, turning on his heel, he walked back.
Not home.Not to Itachi.
To the Uchiha Police Headquarters.
The building glowed with lamplight, yet the silence inside was oppressive, unnatural.
And there—in the very center of the hall, sitting alone beneath the light—was Uchiha Gen.
He leaned forward over a low table, arranging black and white chess pieces, each click echoing sharply in the hollow stillness. His pale face was serene, his gaze fixed on the board as though the outside world did not exist.
Itachi's breath caught.Gen… Shisui came here before meeting the elders?
The air shifted as Shisui entered. His presence broke the quiet, but Gen did not raise his head immediately. Instead, his soft voice unfurled through the room, flat and mocking:
"My dear brother Shisui… you've finally arrived."
He placed a black piece with deliberate slowness, the sound echoing like a nail striking wood.
"No need to glare. After all, you brought this upon yourself when you tried to chain me with Kotoamatsukami. A shame, really—your great technique ended up backfiring."
Shisui froze, pain flashing in his eyes. His lips parted, but no words came.
Gen finally looked up, his expression calm, almost compassionate."Perhaps you've forgotten, haven't you?" His voice was unnervingly soft.
"When you tried to twist my will, I simply chose a more merciful response. I didn't shatter you. I only… rewrote you. You may continue living. But from that day onward, your tongue became a hollow tool. Any time you try to speak of me—your words dissolve into nothing."
A smile crept onto his lips, subtle and venomous.
And it was true.Itachi realized the depth of the trap—Shisui had been carrying this invisible curse for years. Every warning he wanted to give, every cry for help—it had all been erased at the moment of speaking, as though the world itself denied his voice.
Kotoamatsukami, the greatest eye technique of the Uchiha… bent and inverted against its wielder.
All this time, Shisui had borne the weight in silence, forced to watch Gen grow sharper, more cunning, more dangerous.
Shisui clenched his fists, finally finding his voice, trembling but fierce:"Gen… if you still persist with these insane, destructive ideas, I will take your head myself. Even if it costs me my life."
But Gen only listened calmly, no flicker of fear crossing his face.
"You speak of threats, yet your eyes say otherwise." His smile widened faintly, almost tender. "I am still Uchiha. I still love the village."
He tilted his head ever so slightly."Haven't you seen my Academy homework?"
A cold shiver ran down Shisui's spine. His instincts screamed at him—this boy was wrong. Something about him was fundamentally alien. A child speaking with the clarity of a philosopher and the cruelty of a tyrant.
"What do you want, Gen?" Shisui demanded.
For a long moment, Gen simply toyed with a chess piece between his fingers. The candlelight flickered, shadows swaying across his pale features.
At last, he looked up. His smile was dazzling, almost beautiful.
"What do I want?"
"…Nothing too dramatic. Just to decide."
His tone was quiet, contemplative.
"Would life be more interesting if I lived freely, without restraint? Or if I drew every detail into a plan, step by step, until the board is mine?"
The chess piece clicked down.
Black against white.
The sound echoed like a verdict.
Uchiha Gen slowly raised his head, his dark eyes drifting toward the old, dust-coated window.The night outside felt unnaturally still, as though the air itself had congealed into black stone.
The candlelight inside flickered violently. The flame hissed, giving off a faint, piercing sound like a dying breath. The once-gloomy atmosphere became unbearable, suffocating, as though the entire room had been dragged into another world.
In the window's glass—where there should have been nothing—Itachi saw a reflection.His own reflection.
His heart stopped. A bone-deep chill surged through him, as if invisible hands had thrust him into an ice cellar. His body trembled, his breath grew uneven, and his pulse hammered in his ears.
Step by step, Uchiha Gen walked toward the window.Each footfall rang unnaturally loud, echoing against the wooden floor with a weight that sounded less like footsteps and more like whispers—ghastly murmurs crawling from the depths of hell.
He extended a hand, languidly, almost tenderly. His fingertips brushed against the glass, right where Itachi's reflection quivered.
And then—
The reflection twisted.
Itachi's breath caught in his throat as his parents' faces, Fugaku and Mikoto, appeared in the glass. Their eyes were gone—only pitch-black voids remained, endless and hungry. Blood streamed ceaselessly from the empty sockets, running down their cheeks in grotesque trails, staining the window with crimson patterns that pulsed like veins.
"What are you so afraid of?"
Gen's whisper slithered into Itachi's ears, calm yet venomous, his tone carrying a subtle rhythm that wormed its way into the mind.
Itachi staggered back, eyes wide.
But then, beside him, Shisui shifted.
Slowly, terribly, Shisui turned to face him. His skin was corpse-pale, his eyes hollow abysses that bled steadily down his face. Yet his expression was calm, unbearably calm, tinged with sorrow that seemed older than time.
"Why didn't you stop me sooner?"
His voice was heavy, deep, carrying the weight of a thousand regrets.He leaned closer, his bleeding sockets fixed upon Itachi.
"Do you see, Itachi? This… is all because of you."
Itachi tried to speak—to deny, to plead—but his throat produced no sound. His lips moved silently, as though his voice had been stolen from him.
It was then, in this nightmare, that the truth pierced him.
Gen… had awakened his Mangekyō long ago.And not just awakened—it had evolved, sharpened, and twisted into something utterly monstrous. His power, honed through years of patient scheming, had reached an abyssal depth.
Gen raised his hand.At his fingertips, pale-blue flames bloomed. They were not flames of this world. They burned without heat, casting no warmth—only an unnatural brilliance, like ghostly fire from the underworld. Their light was both alluring and dreadful, whispering promises no human should ever hear.
The flames split apart, scattering into a thousand shimmering fire-moths. They fluttered gracefully across the air, wings leaving trails of sparks that hissed like giggling phantoms. Their faint laughter echoed in the room, mockery layered with despair.
The ground shifted.
From beneath their feet, withered trees clawed their way up, twisting, gnarled, and skeletal. Their branches coiled like serpents, writhing and stretching toward the ceiling. They moved like predators, constricting the space, entangling one another until the room resembled a nest of monstrous, grasping arms.
The fire-moths landed upon the withered branches.And the forest ignited.
In an instant, the entire illusion exploded into a sea of violent, impossible fire—flames that howled as they devoured everything, raging and twisted, consuming Itachi in a tide of despair.
And in the center of that inferno, Uchiha Gen stood untouched, silent, unmoving. His face was neither joyful nor sorrowful. Only calm.
"I repented long ago," he murmured, his voice echoing through the burning world,"and I accepted the Uchiha's demise from the very start."
And with those words—
Izanami.
The world cracked like glass, shattering into fragments of light. The fire collapsed into nothingness.
Itachi's eyes widened, his pupils dilating as though struck by lightning. His body went limp, collapsing to the floor like a marionette with its strings severed.
In the real world, Itachi's unconscious body fell within the sealing array.
Tobirama's figure flashed, his movements as sharp as a blade. A kunai pressed coldly against Itachi's temple, his killing intent rising like a tidal wave.
Just as Tobirama tightened his grip—ready to strike—
The air warped.
Space itself twisted violently, a swirling vortex tearing open the void.
From its depths, a masked figure stepped forth, his body emerging like a phantom from another dimension. His single crimson eye glowed with icy brilliance—the tomoe of the Sharingan spinning within it.
Without hesitation, he seized Itachi by the shoulder.
His gaze lifted, colliding with Tobirama's.The Sharingan's scarlet glow burned against the Senju's icy killing intent.
"You are…?" Tobirama asked coldly.
The masked man's voice was smooth, mocking, brimming with authority.
"Ah… you may call me Uchiha Madara."
Tobirama's expression darkened, his silence heavier than steel.
Why? he thought sharply. Why has this masked man appeared so quickly? How did he know?
Meanwhile, across the village, Kakashi sat casually at a temporary ramen stall with Naruto.Steam rose from the bowls before them.
Naruto slurped his noodles loudly, grinning with childish delight.
Kakashi's visible eye curved faintly as he ate in silence, utterly unaware of the storm brewing in the shadows.