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In the folklore of the ninja world,
there exists a mysterious class of creatures known as Prophetic Beasts.
Sometimes they suddenly appear among humans, speaking in the tongue of men, predicting great wars, plagues, droughts, and other disasters yet to come. They often guide people on how to avoid these calamities—only to perish soon after giving their prophecy. Their lives burn short but bright, wrapped in myth and mystery.
Many dismiss them as legends.
Yet, others—those who have seen the inexplicable—believe firmly.
Uchiha Fugaku belonged to the latter.
Because within the depth of his Kaleidoscope Sharingan,
resided a unique and terrifying power—Amabie, the Eye of Prophecy.
This ocular ability allowed Fugaku to peer into the thread of destiny, glimpsing fragments of a person's future—whether his own or another's—as long as their chakra had been imprinted within his eyes.
The inertia of fate was immense, yet not unchangeable.
For one who could see its outline, there always remained a faint possibility—however distant—to steer the course of destiny, to grasp fortune and avert doom.
That was the strength of Amabie.
However, a power that defied heaven naturally came with its curse.
First, what Amabie revealed was only one potential outcome among countless possibilities—the most probable future, not an absolute one.
Second, after each use, the eye demanded a long slumber. It could take many years—sometimes even decades—before it could open again.
And finally, the gravest price—
it consumed the user's own life force.
Such was the toll for glimpsing what only gods should see.
The last time Fugaku used this forbidden sight was six years ago, on the night the Nine-Tails attacked Konoha.
That night, the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze—an ally to the Uchiha—fell in battle. The clan was immediately blamed by Konoha's elders, accused of controlling the Nine-Tails, since witnesses had seen the beast's eyes turn into Sharingan.
Surrounded by suspicion and hatred, Fugaku had no choice but to activate Amabie to foresee his clan's fate.
The vision was devastating.
He saw Uchiha rise in rebellion—only to be slaughtered, erased from the village's history.
Thus, to prevent this, Fugaku had chosen submission. He agreed to the village council's demand, relocating the Uchiha to the outskirts of Konoha, enduring years of quiet persecution.
He had saved his clan once—
at the cost of five years of his life.
But fate was persistent.
Its flow could be delayed, not destroyed.
And Fugaku understood: the prophecy still loomed, waiting to repeat itself.
The Uchiha's internal resentment deepened, the village's distrust hardened. The clan stood again at the brink of the same precipice.
He exhaled deeply, his breath calm but heavy.
"Then let me see it again," he whispered, "Let me see where the Uchiha's path truly leads."
Amabie's eye ignited once more.
This time, Fugaku's gaze turned toward one man—Uchiha Duan.
It was Duan's rise—the overwhelming presence he displayed at the last clan assembly, the way he single-handedly silenced every dissenting voice—that drove Fugaku to seek this vision.
The world blurred before him.
Image after image flashed across his Sharingan, flowing past like scenes glimpsed through a shattered mirror.
He saw the Hokage Building, the streets of Konoha, and two sides locked in merciless battle.
On one side—the Anbu and the elite shinobi of every major clan:
Akimichi, Nara, Yamanaka, Hyuga, Inuzuka, Aburame, Kurama…
On the other—the Uchiha clan, fighting desperately beneath a burning sky.
So… it had come to this after all? A coup?
Fugaku saw himself amidst the chaos, Susanoo blazing, shielding his clan as they clashed against overwhelming odds.
The Uchiha fought like demons, their pride blazing even in death.
But one by one, familiar faces fell, their bodies littering the blood-soaked ground.
Then—
a thunderous roar.
The Nine-Tails, again under the control of a Sharingan, rampaged through Konoha. Flames devoured the village; screams echoed under a crimson moon. Blood flooded the streets until the city became a living hell.
Fugaku's mind screamed—something was missing.
Where was Duan?
He searched frantically, and then—he found him.
Duan stood silently in the Hokage's office, gazing down at the battlefield through the shattered glass. His expression unreadable.
Then he laughed—a wild, unrestrained laugh—and opened eyes shaped unlike any kaleidoscope Fugaku had ever seen.
He spread his arms wide, and his chakra exploded, shattering the windows, shaking the entire tower.
Every shinobi on the battlefield froze and turned their gaze upward.
A pillar of blue and gold chakra tore through the clouds.
Then—darkness.
Fugaku's eyes burned. The vision shattered into blinding light, and two trails of blood streamed down his cheeks.
"What… what does this mean?" he whispered, gripping his temples.
Was Duan the savior of Uchiha—or its destroyer?
He could no longer tell. The fragments refused to align, the meaning lost in chaos.
Elsewhere—
in the northern mountains of the Land of Fire, within the hidden cavern known as the Mountain Graveyard—
Obito sat up in bed as White Zetsu finished his report.
When Obito heard that Shisui had awakened the Mangekyō, he merely raised an eyebrow.
When he learned that Duan had torn apart Susanoo with his bare hands, his expression hardened.
And when Zetsu mentioned that Duan unleashed a technique resembling Shinra Tensei, Obito's composure shattered completely.
He sat upright, eyes wide.
"Shinra… Tensei?" he muttered in disbelief.
That was a power exclusive to the Rinnegan.
Could it be…?
No. Impossible.
Even Madara Uchiha had only awakened the Rinnegan after decades—after grafting Hashirama's cells and fusing Yin and Yang chakra.
It couldn't be.
And yet—the evidence before them said otherwise.
Even Black Zetsu, the manipulator of centuries, felt a flicker of alarm. He had orchestrated endless reincarnations of Indra and Asura, waited a thousand years to forge Madara's eyes into the Rinnegan.
So who was this man, Uchiha Duan, who seemed to defy the script of fate?
After long silence, Black Zetsu muttered darkly,
"This will complicate things."
Obito's eyes narrowed beneath his bandaged face. He tore off the wrappings, stood from the bed, and reached for his tiger-striped mask.
"The Uchiha clan," he said coldly, "has grown too dangerous."
His chakra flared, shadow stretching long across the cavern.
"It's time to erase them—completely."
And with that, Obito vanished into the night, bound once again for Konoha—to fulfill a prophecy born of blood and betrayal.
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