"Bring Shisui Uchiha's body in."
After a long, stunned silence, Hiruzen Sarutobi finally forced the words out—his face still full of disbelief.
"Yes, Hokage!"
The ANBU hurried out.
A minute later, two ANBU returned, carrying a stretcher into the office.
"…Hmph."
Shimura Danzō let out a cold snort.
"Quickly. Lift the sheet."
"Yes!"
One ANBU's hands trembled as he yanked the cloth away.
Silence.
Then both men inhaled sharply at the same time.
Because what lay there wasn't simply a corpse.
It was a warning.
Shisui's body had been cut cleanly in half. The blood was nearly gone. What little remained of his expression suggested he hadn't died peacefully.
Too brutal.
Too deliberate.
"Sharingan…?"
Danzō's voice went hoarse—almost feral.
"Where are his eyes?"
His gaze locked onto the empty sockets.
The Mangekyō Sharingan—gone.
The eyes he'd already decided belonged to him.
"How… how could this happen?"
Hiruzen slumped back into his chair like something inside him had snapped.
He understood immediately: whoever did this wasn't just killing Shisui.
They were lighting a fuse under Konoha.
Because Shisui dying like this would only deepen the hatred between the Uchiha and the village leadership.
"Wait…"
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed, and he slowly turned to Danzō.
Don't tell me…
Root killed Shisui, stole the eyes, then staged this like some cruel theater?
Danzō caught the look and exploded.
"Hiruzen—what is that supposed to mean?!"
"If I did it, do you think Shisui would've just let it happen?!"
He barked the words with conviction.
And yet—
Danzō would rather die than admit the truth:
Root had already set a net.
They'd been waiting for a chance to strike Shisui and seize his eyes.
Hiruzen's gaze hardened.
"It'd better not involve Root."
Shisui was dead. Whatever loyalty he'd had, whatever control he represented—gone.
Hiruzen exhaled.
"With Shisui gone, the only source we have left inside the clan… is Itachi."
He sounded regretful.
Not because Shisui had died—
but because a dead tool was a useless tool.
Danzō clenched his fist, face twisting with anger.
"It was the Uchiha."
"Who else could kill Shisui?"
Hiruzen's eyes flashed cold.
"Tomorrow, we'll see."
"No." Danzō's voice sharpened like a blade.
"Absolutely not."
"The Uchiha can't be allowed to remain."
Without Shisui's eyes, Danzō's restraint vanished completely.
"For Konoha's future, we can't just watch."
Hiruzen hesitated, glancing at what remained of Shisui.
Then—slowly—he shook his head.
"…Wait."
Danzō leaned closer, tone suddenly calm, almost gentle.
"Hiruzen."
"The Uchiha and the village can't coexist anymore."
"For the Will of Fire… for stability… something must be done."
He turned to leave.
"I'm going."
Danzō had just stepped through the doorway when Hiruzen spoke again—quiet, final.
"I'll have Itachi cooperate."
He clasped his hands as if he'd just made peace with a sin.
"I believe Itachi—bathed in the Will of Fire—will choose correctly."
"Whatever you do next…"
"I'll treat it as if I never saw it."
Danzō paused.
Then he walked on without looking back.
"Good."
Meanwhile — Uchiha District
Inside the Uchiha clan's main meeting hall, the air had gone stale with waiting.
"Clan Head—Shisui isn't coming back, is he?"
"It's been hours. If he doesn't return soon, I'm going to sleep."
"That guy didn't flip at the critical moment… did he?"
Frustration finally boiled over among the elites gathered there.
Once, they had admired Shisui.
But after the Nine-Tails incident, he'd leaned more and more toward the village leadership.
And the admiration had curdled into disgust.
They'd kept quiet only because Shisui was the clan's strongest genjutsu user.
Now?
They didn't care anymore.
"He's a traitor."
Fugaku's expression tightened, but he still spoke firmly.
"I believe Shisui."
"He carries the name Uchiha."
"When it matters… he will stand with the clan."
The words had barely left his mouth when—
BANG!
Something slammed through the meeting hall doors.
Before anyone could react, half a body skidded into view.
Blood. Torn flesh. A severed torso.
The room froze.
"What… is that…?"
Who would throw a body into their meeting?
Was this a provocation?
An insult?
Then—
Itachi's breath caught.
His Sharingan tightened on instinct as recognition hit him like a spike through the skull.
Shisui.
"AHH—!"
Itachi screamed.
His body convulsed with shock, grief, and a violent surge of emotion he couldn't control.
His pupils turned red.
One tomoe.
Two.
Three—
And then the tomoe twisted, locking into a new shape.
A Mangekyō Sharingan—triangular, pinwheel-sharp.
"Itachi!" Fugaku snapped, then paused—feeling the change.
His face broke into laughter.
"That's my son."
A Uchiha jōnin stepped forward, swallowed hard, and checked the remains more carefully.
His face drained white.
"Clan Head…"
"This… this is Shisui."
"He was dismembered—"
"And his eyes were taken."
The hall went deathly silent.
Moments ago, some had been burning with envy at Itachi awakening Mangekyō.
Now, that envy turned to ice.
Shisui Uchiha…
Dismembered.
And his Mangekyō stolen.
Impossible.
And yet—
as the remains were cleaned and laid on the table…
no one could deny it.
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