The Harvest Festival transformed Konoha into something from a child's dream — paper lanterns strung between buildings like captured stars, the scent of grilled squid and sweet dango thick in the air, merchants calling out their wares with practiced enthusiasm. For one day, the village forgot about missions and politics and the tension that had been building like pressure behind a dam.
Sasuke Uchiha, nearly five years old and vibrating with excitement, tugged on his brother's hand with both of his own. "Nii-san! Look! Goldfish!"
Itachi allowed himself to be pulled toward the game stall, his usually stoic expression softening in a way reserved solely for his little brother. Keisuke and Shisui followed, both in civilian clothes, their ANBU identities left behind for a few precious hours.
"Can I try? Please?" Sasuke's eyes were enormous, pleading, impossible to resist.
"Of course." Itachi paid the vendor, accepting the fragile paper scoops, and crouched beside Sasuke to demonstrate the technique. "Gently. You want to guide them, not chase them."
Sasuke's first attempt ended with the paper tearing and water splashing everywhere. His second was no better. But on the third try, with Itachi's hands steadying his, he managed to scoop a small orange fish into the bowl.
The joy on Sasuke's face was so pure, so unfiltered, that Keisuke felt his chest tighten.
This, he thought. This is what we're trying to protect. This innocence. This happiness.
"I did it!" Sasuke held the bowl up triumphantly, water sloshing. "Nii-san, did you see?"
"I saw." Itachi's smile was genuine, unguarded. "You did very well, little brother."
They moved through the festival as a unit — three ANBU operatives and one oblivious child, blending into the crowd like they were normal. Shisui bought dangoyaki for everyone, making a show of trying to steal Sasuke's stick and laughing when the boy clutched it protectively. At a game stall, Keisuke won a toy kunai with a dull blade and painted handle, presenting it to Sasuke with mock seriousness.
"For the future Hokage," Keisuke said, and Sasuke's eyes went wide.
"You really think I could be Hokage?"
"I think," Keisuke said, kneeling to Sasuke's eye level, "that you could be anything you want. You just have to work hard and never give up."
Sasuke clutched the toy kunai like a treasure, and when he threw his arms around Keisuke's neck in an impromptu hug, Keisuke felt something crack in his chest. The boy smelled of sugar and summer, and his embrace carried the unconscious trust that children give so freely to those they love.
"Thank you, 'Suke-nii!" Sasuke released him, immediately running to show Itachi his new prize. "'Nii-san! Look what 'Suke-nii got me!"
Shisui came to stand beside Keisuke, both of them watching Itachi indulge his brother's enthusiasm. "You're good with him," Shisui observed quietly.
"He makes it easy." Keisuke stood, brushing off his knees. "He's... uncomplicated. Pure. Everything shinobi stop being the moment we take our first life."
"Heavy thoughts for a festival day."
"Can't seem to escape them anymore."
They spent another hour wandering the festival, buying more food than they could eat, playing games they pretended to care about, existing in a bubble of temporary peace. Sasuke fell asleep on Itachi's back around sunset, one hand still clutching his toy kunai, his face peaceful in a way that made all three of them unconsciously gentle their movements.
"We should get him home," Itachi said softly, adjusting his grip on his brother. "Mother will worry."
As they walked back toward the Uchiha compound, the sun setting behind them in shades of gold and crimson, Keisuke memorized the moment. Sasuke's soft breathing. Shisui's easy stride. Itachi's rare contentment. The way the fading light painted everything beautiful and temporary.
Please, he thought to no one in particular. Please let us have more days like this. Please let this not be the last time.
But the weight in his chest suggested otherwise.
The emergency clan meeting was called after dark, when the festival's last lanterns had been extinguished and Konoha had settled into sleep. The Nakano Shrine's assembly hall filled quickly, Uchiha of all ages gathering with expressions ranging from grim determination to barely controlled anger.
Keisuke sat in the back with Itachi and Shisui, all three having changed into their clan attire. The air was thick with incense and tension, and his three-tomoe Sharingan activated unconsciously, reading the room's emotional temperature in micro-expressions and body language.
This was different from previous meetings. The energy had shifted from frustrated complaint to something harder. More dangerous.
Fugaku stood at the head, his face carved from stone, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of decisions already made.
"The time for patience has passed," he began, and the hall erupted into murmurs of agreement. "We have tried diplomacy. We have proven our loyalty in blood and service. And still, the village treats us as threats rather than citizens. Still, they monitor our compound. Still, they deny us positions in leadership while expecting us to enforce their laws."
"They fear us," called out Tekka, standing from his seat. "And they should. The Sharingan is power they can't control, so they try to contain it. Contain us."
More voices joined, each carrying variations of the same sentiment. Years of marginalization given voice. Frustration transformed into fury.
"My son was denied promotion despite exceeding every requirement," one woman said, her voice shaking with controlled rage. "When I asked why, they said the timing wasn't appropriate. As if there will ever be an appropriate time for an Uchiha to succeed in their village."
"The Kyuubi attack," another voice called — Inabi, a respected Jonin. "I've heard whispers. That it wasn't random. That someone with Sharingan controlled the beast. They blame us for the very catastrophe we fought to stop!"
The accusation hung in the air like smoke before fire.
"Convenient," Inabi continued, standing now. "To have an excuse to isolate us. To position ANBU around our compound. To watch us like criminals. What if it was orchestrated? What if village leadership created the perfect justification for our oppression?"
The murmurs grew louder, more agitated. Keisuke's Sharingan caught Fugaku's expression — not disagreement, but calculation. The clan head wasn't shutting down the conspiracy theory. He was letting it breathe, letting it grow.
"What are you suggesting?" asked an elder named Yashiro, though his tone suggested he already knew.
"I suggest," Fugaku said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade, "that we stop waiting for the village to grant us what we've earned. That we take our rightful place in Konoha's leadership. That we remind them — the Uchiha helped found this village. We have bled for it. Died for it. And we will not be pushed aside like inconvenient history."
"A coup," someone breathed.
Fugaku didn't deny it. "Strategic repositioning. We already control the Police Force. We have skilled shinobi throughout the ranks. We have... leverage. If we move decisively, if we act before they can fortify against us, we can force the Hokage to step down. Redistribute power. Create a new Konoha where all clans are equal."
The room exploded into discussion. Some voices raised in fervent support, others in concern, but the moderates were being drowned out by the tide of years of accumulated resentment.
Keisuke watched Itachi throughout, saw his friend's face remain perfectly neutral even as his hands trembled in his lap. Saw the way Itachi's jaw set tighter with each passing moment, each voiced grievance, each step closer to the precipice.
When the meeting finally ended — no formal decision made, but the direction clear — the three of them slipped away from the dispersing crowd, finding sanctuary in a small clearing near the compound's edge.
"It's really happening," Keisuke said, the words tasting like ash. "They're actually going to do it."
"They're desperate," Shisui replied, his usual lightness completely absent. "Desperate people make terrible decisions. And this..." He gestured helplessly. "This is the worst decision possible. A coup will tear Konoha apart. Other villages will invade. Thousands will die. The Uchiha will be destroyed, and they don't even see it."
Itachi had been silent since the meeting, staring at nothing, his mind clearly calculating. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow.
"We're out of time. If we don't act now, the coup will happen. And once it starts, there's no stopping it."
"What are you suggesting?" Keisuke asked, though dread pooled in his stomach.
"Kotoamatsukami," Itachi said, looking at Shisui. "You use it on my father. Change his heart. Make him believe in peaceful resolution again. Without his leadership, the coup falls apart. The hotheads lose their figurehead. We buy time for diplomacy."
Shisui's expression was torn. "You're asking me to brainwash your father. To fundamentally alter who he is and what he believes."
"I'm asking you to save him," Itachi said, and there was desperate pleading beneath the words. "To save the clan. To prevent a bloodbath. Isn't that what Kotoamatsukami is for? Changing hearts to prevent violence?"
"I don't know anymore," Shisui admitted. "I thought I did. Thought I understood the difference between changing minds for peace versus controlling them for convenience. But this..." He ran a hand through his hair. "This is your father, Itachi. The clan head. If I do this, I'm playing god with the Uchiha's future."
"And if you don't," Keisuke said quietly, "Danzo will take your eyes and use them himself. Or the coup happens and everyone dies. Those are our options. All terrible. All wrong. But we have to choose."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"I'll do it," Shisui said finally. "Tomorrow. I'll intercept Fugaku before the next planning meeting. Use Kotoamatsukami to shift his perspective. Make him see the cost of rebellion. It's not perfect, but it's..." He trailed off.
"It's all we have," Itachi finished.
Keisuke wanted to object, wanted to offer an alternative, but his mind was empty of solutions. The mathematics of the situation were brutal: clan or village, rebellion or submission, freedom or control. No matter which path they chose, someone would be betrayed.
"Tomorrow, then," Shisui said, standing. "I'll handle it. You two... just trust me. One last time. Trust that I can save everyone."
He left in a Body Flicker, there and gone, his presence lingering like the after-image of lightning.
Itachi and Keisuke sat in silence, both knowing they'd just agreed to something that would haunt them regardless of the outcome.
"Do you think it'll work?" Keisuke asked.
"I think," Itachi said slowly, "that we're about to find out if peace can be built on violated minds. And I pray to whatever gods listen that we never have to answer that question honestly."
[Shisui's Perspective]
The location Fugaku had specified for their meeting was secluded — a small clearing near the Nakano River, far enough from the compound to avoid accidental observation. Perfect for a private conversation about clan strategy.
Perfect for an ambush.
Shisui arrived early, his Mangekyo Sharingan already active, scanning for threats. The clearing appeared empty, but his instincts screamed warnings that had nothing to do with visual confirmation.
He should have listened.
They came from underground, from the trees, from positions that should have been impossible to conceal from. ROOT operatives, dozens of them, moving with the coordinated precision of those who'd trained together for years.
Shisui's Body Flicker saved him from the initial assault, appearing twenty meters away in the span of a heartbeat. But they'd anticipated that, had positioned secondary forces exactly where he'd reappear.
Wind techniques forced him back toward the river. Earth techniques cut off escape routes. Water techniques from the river itself hemmed him in on all sides. They weren't trying to kill him quickly — they were corralling him, wearing him down, forcing him to exhaust his chakra while they rotated fresh operatives into the fight.
Professional. Efficient. Terrible.
Shisui fought with everything he had. His tantō found flesh. His Fire Release techniques forced them back. His Body Flicker kept him ahead of their coordination. But there were too many, and they knew his capabilities too well.
Someone had briefed them. Someone had studied him.
"Enough."
The voice cut through the combat like a blade, and the ROOT operatives immediately disengaged, forming a perimeter. From the treeline stepped Danzo Shimura, his expression calm, his single visible eye fixed on Shisui with the intensity of someone who'd found exactly what they were looking for.
"Shisui Uchiha," Danzo said, his tone conversational. "The Body Flicker. The idealist. The bridge-builder." He moved closer, and the ROOT operatives tightened their formation. "You possess power that could reshape reality itself. And you want to use it for peace. Admirable. Naive. Dangerous."
"Stay back." Shisui's hand moved to his tantō, but he was already breathing hard, chakra reserves depleted from the extended fight. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work."
"I'm planning the village's survival," Danzo replied. "The Uchiha plot rebellion. Your clan threatens everything we've built. Civil war will destroy Konoha and invite invasion from every direction. Thousands will die. Unless..." He gestured, almost apologetically. "Unless someone has the courage to make the hard choice."
"Kotoamatsukami," Shisui realized, ice flooding his veins. "You want my eyes."
"I want the tool that can prevent war without bloodshed." Danzo's expression didn't change. "Your technique can rewrite will. Transform rebellion into loyalty. You said it yourself — changing hearts is better than stopping them. I agree. The difference is, I have the resolve to use it where you hesitate."
"On who?" Shisui demanded. "The clan? The village? Where does it end?"
"Wherever it must." Danzo moved suddenly, his hands blurring through seals. "Your idealism blinds you, Shisui. Individual rights mean nothing against village security. The needs of the many always outweigh the freedom of the few."
Wind Release: Vacuum Blade. The technique was devastating at close range, and Shisui barely managed to deflect it, his tantō shattering from the impact. He tried to create distance, to flicker away, but his chakra was too low, his body too exhausted.
The ROOT operatives closed in.
The fight that followed was brutal and one-sided. Shisui fought with the desperation of someone who knew exactly what defeat meant, but desperation couldn't overcome numbers and exhaustion. A blade found his side. Another his leg. His vision blurred from blood loss and chakra depletion.
And then Danzo was there, his hand faster than Shisui could track, fingers extended toward his face with surgical precision.
"For the greater good," Danzo said.
Pain. Unimaginable, soul-destroying pain as Danzo's fingers drove into Shisui's right eye socket, chakra-enhanced and brutal. Shisui screamed, the sound tearing from his throat as his Mangekyo Sharingan was ripped from his skull — tissue tearing, optic nerve severing, his power stolen in a moment of clinical violence.
Through the agony, through blood and tears and the hollow socket where his eye had been, Shisui saw Danzo examine his prize. The Mangekyo Sharingan, still active, still spinning in Danzo's palm like a captured star.
"Beautiful," Danzo murmured. "The ultimate tool for peace."
Shisui didn't remember making the decision to run. Didn't remember the Body Flicker that carried him away even with his chakra nearly depleted, powered by nothing but survival instinct and desperate terror. He just remembered trees blurring past, blood streaming from his ruined eye, his remaining Mangekyo burning as it tried to compensate for the missing vision.
He had to reach Itachi. Had to warn him. Had to—
The Nakano River appeared before him, and at its edge stood the one person who might understand. Might be able to carry forward what Shisui no longer could.
"Itachi," Shisui gasped, stumbling to a halt.
[Keisuke's Perspective]
Keisuke had been training when the message came — a crow with Shisui's chakra signature, an emergency summons to the Nakano River. He'd dropped everything and run, his three-tomoe Sharingan active, dread coiling in his gut.
He arrived to find Itachi standing at the cliff's edge, frozen in place, and before him—
No.
Shisui sat on the ground, one hand pressed to his face where blood streamed through his fingers, his remaining eye — Mangekyo active — fixed on Itachi with desperate intensity. Between them lay a small medical container, and Keisuke's enhanced vision caught what it held.
An eye. Shisui's eye. His remaining Mangekyo Sharingan, carefully preserved.
"Take it," Shisui was saying, his voice rough with pain but steady with conviction. "Take it and use it. Protect the village. Protect the clan. You're the only one who can."
"No." Itachi's voice broke. "No, I'll find another way. Shisui, please. We can—"
"There is no other way." Shisui smiled, and it was gentle, selfless, heartbreaking. "Danzo has my right eye. He'll come for the left eventually. He'll use Kotoamatsukami to control everyone — the clan, the village, anyone he deems necessary. But if you have it..." He coughed, blood on his lips. "If you have it, you can stop him. Can use it the way it was meant to be used. For actual peace, not control."
"You're not dying," Itachi said, tears streaming down his face, his Sharingan spinning frantically. "You're not. I won't let you."
"You don't get to choose." Shisui stood on trembling legs, moved to the cliff's edge. Below, the Nakano River rushed over rocks, deep and cold and final. "This is my choice. My sacrifice. Don't make it meaningless by throwing yourself away trying to save what's already lost."
"Shisui—" Keisuke finally found his voice, stumbling forward. "Please. Don't. We'll figure something out. We'll—"
"You already have." Shisui looked at him, his remaining eye warm despite the blood and pain. "You and Itachi — you're pack. You protect each other. That's all that matters now. When everything falls apart, when the sides are drawn and choices have to be made, remember that. Pack. Always."
His gaze shifted back to Itachi. "You always were the clever one. You'll figure it out. How to save them. Both of them — clan and village. I know you will."
"I can't," Itachi said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not without you."
"Yes, you can." Shisui's smile widened, even as tears joined the blood on his face. "Because that's who you are. The bridge-builder. The peace-keeper. The one who sees everyone's perspective and finds the path between." He took a step back, toward the edge. "Honor my sacrifice, brother. Make it mean something."
"SHISUI, NO!"
But he was already falling, his body arcing backward into empty air, his remaining eye meeting Itachi's one final time before gravity claimed him. The splash echoed like a gunshot, and then there was only the rush of water and the sound of Itachi's anguished sob.
Keisuke reached the cliff's edge in time to see Shisui's body disappear beneath the current, swept away by water too fast and deep to navigate. Gone. Just... gone.
Beside him, Itachi fell to his knees, Shisui's eye clutched in his hand, his entire body shaking. His Sharingan spun faster, faster, the tomoe merging and reshaping into a new pattern — a tri-blade pinwheel, elegant and terrible, the Mangekyo Sharingan born from watching his best friend die.
"He's gone," Itachi said, the words hollow. "He's gone and I couldn't stop it. Couldn't save him. Couldn't—"
Keisuke grabbed Itachi's shoulders, shaking him, desperate for answers that couldn't change what had happened but might make it make sense. "What happened? Why? WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"Danzo." Itachi's voice was dead. "Danzo took his eye. Took Kotoamatsukami. Shisui gave me the other one to keep it from him. To..." He looked at the preserved eye in his hand. "To use it. To save everyone. As if that's still possible."
The words crashed over Keisuke like a wave. Danzo. The elder who'd been circling them for months. Who'd wanted Shisui's power. Who'd finally taken it through violence and theft.
The village had murdered Shisui. Not directly. Not officially. But murdered him nonetheless.
And in Keisuke's chest, something broke.
His Sharingan burned, the pain sudden and absolute, and he felt his vision shifting. The three tomoe spun faster, merging, transforming into a new pattern that his altered sight could barely process. Four curved blades radiating from the center like a shuriken in flight, sharp and unforgiving.
The Mangekyo Sharingan. Born from the loss of the person who'd taught him that strength could be kind. That power could serve peace. That the Uchiha could be more than their curse.
All lies, whispered something dark in his mind. All beautiful lies that died with him in the river.
Rain began to fall — soft at first, then harder, as if the sky itself mourned. Keisuke and Itachi knelt at the cliff's edge, both bearing new power born from the same tragedy, both crying tears that mixed with rain and blood until they were indistinguishable.
"I'll protect this village," Itachi said, his voice breaking around the words. "I'll honor his sacrifice. Make it mean something. Find a way to save both the clan and Konoha. That's what he wanted. That's what he died for."
But Keisuke said nothing.
Because staring at the river that had taken Shisui, feeling the Mangekyo burn in his eyes, tasting rain that tasted like ash and betrayal, he couldn't make that promise.
The village had murdered Shisui. Had stolen his eyes. Had driven him to suicide rather than face what they would do to him.
And Itachi wanted to protect them?
The ideological fracture that had been forming for months cracked wide open. Itachi, still believing in the village, still seeing salvation in service and sacrifice. Keisuke, feeling faith crumble beneath the weight of one too many betrayals.
"The clan," Keisuke heard himself say, his voice hollow. "I'll protect the clan. That's all that's left now. That's all that matters."
Itachi looked at him, Mangekyo meeting Mangekyo, and in that moment they both understood.
They stood on opposite sides now. The bridge between them burning, the pack fracturing, the promise made beneath stars rendered void by blood and grief.
The rain fell harder.
The river rushed on, carrying Shisui's body toward the sea.
And two brothers, bound by tragedy and torn by choice, knelt in the mud and rain, both mourning the same loss while seeing completely different lessons in his death.
Pack, Shisui had said. Always.
But pack only worked when everyone agreed on what needed protecting.
And as thunder rolled overhead and lightning painted the world in harsh relief, Keisuke and Itachi learned the cruelest truth:
Sometimes love isn't enough.
Sometimes even pack breaks.
Sometimes the choice between duty and family, village and clan, peace and justice, can't be reconciled.
It can only be mourned.
The rain washed away tears.
The river swallowed the dead.
And the living were left to carry forward, knowing that everything they'd fought to prevent was now inevitable.
The mirror had shattered.
And the reflections would never align again.