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"Itachi! What the hell is going on in that head of yours?
You actually agreed to become that old Third Hokage dog's murder weapon and turn your blade on your own clan?"
Akira folded his arms across his chest and asked with open curiosity.
"Huh?!"
Itachi frowned, staring at Akira behind those sunglasses. Something about his little brother felt completely off, like he was a totally different person.
"I don't know where you got this information. But for the sake of the village's peace, I had no choice but to do it."
The next instant, the three tomoe in Itachi's eyes spun wildly, twisting into a pinwheel-like triangular pattern.
The Mangekyō Sharingan awakened.
He had no intention of wasting time arguing here.
He would knock his brother out with a Mangekyō technique, then carry out the mission and slaughter the entire clan.
'Forgive me, Akira. This really is the last time.'
With that thought, his Mangekyō flared to life.
Tsukuyomi.
A crushing wave of spiritual power slammed down on Akira in an instant.
"Huh? Are you serious? Opening with your ultimate right away?"
Seeing Itachi activate the Mangekyō without hesitation, Akira froze for a split second.
He had been planning to trash-talk a little, maybe even talk Itachi out of it.
Turns out Itachi had zero sense of sportsmanship and went straight for a sneak attack with a Mangekyō genjutsu.
Looks like the only way to convince him was the old-fashioned method: beat some sense into him.
So Akira dropped his mental defenses completely and let Tsukuyomi hit him head-on.
He really wanted to see what kind of show this "filial son" had prepared for him.
The world blurred.
The Uchiha streets vanished. Even the sunglasses on his nose disappeared.
After a brief moment of dizziness, Akira found himself standing in front of his own house.
He glanced around.
Bright sunlight bathed everything. White clouds drifted lazily across the sky. Butterflies fluttered among the flowers in the courtyard, and cheerful birds preened their feathers on the branches.
It was a beautiful, peaceful scene.
Creak.
The door opened, and Uchiha Mikoto stepped out wearing an apron.
"Akira, welcome home! Come inside, don't just stand there. Mom made your favorite katsuobushi rice balls!"
She smiled at him gently.
Akira followed her inside and looked around the house.
Pretty realistic. Every little detail was spot-on.
"I heard you got first place again in the exams," Fugaku said from the sofa, lowering his newspaper. A faint smile appeared on his face, pride filling his eyes. "Very good. Just like your brother. You really are my son."
"Akira, dinner's ready!" Mikoto said softly as she finished setting the table. "Go wash your hands first."
Akira turned toward the dining table and saw it covered with delicious food.
"Here, Akira, sit here," Mikoto said, gently pulling out a chair for him.
Then, without warning, a flash of cold steel cut through the air.
Slash.
The blade pierced straight through Mikoto's chest. The warmth vanished from her face, replaced by agony.
"Why… why would you do this?" she asked, turning to look at her beloved son behind her.
Itachi didn't answer.
He twisted the short blade and drove it deeper toward her heart.
Stab.
Blood poured out, soaking the table and staining every carefully prepared dish a deep crimson.
Akira looked at the ruined feast and couldn't help twitching the corner of his mouth.
What a waste.
Even if it was fake, it still felt like a crime. The pure, tragic sorrow of a food lover.
Shhk.
Itachi expressionlessly pulled the blade from Mikoto's back. Blood sprayed across half his face, making him look cold and utterly heartless, nothing like his usual gentle self. It was as if he had become someone else entirely.
The thick stench of blood filled the room.
"Itachi! What are you doing?! Have you lost your mind?!"
Fugaku roared, leaping to his feet and tearing the newspaper to shreds, his face twisted with rage.
Itachi flicked a glance at Akira. Then his body vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind Fugaku. The short blade traced a clean arc.
Slash.
A head flew high into the air as blood erupted.
Thud.
The headless body collapsed to the floor with a dull sound.
From start to finish, Akira stood there with his arms crossed, watching with interest, like he was enjoying a VR movie.
Then the world shifted again.
Same routine as before.
First, warm and happy scenes. Then Itachi appeared, destroying everything piece by piece.
The world turned blood-red and dim, the atmosphere crushingly oppressive.
Again and again, Itachi reenacted the murder of their parents right in front of Akira.
At the same time, terrified and desperate screams from clan members echoed all around.
"My foolish little brother!"
"If you want to kill me, then hate me! Curse me!"
"Live on in an ugly way!"
"Run away just to survive! And one day, when you have eyes like mine, come find me!"
"Then you can become a proper vessel, and then—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Across from him, Akira was lounging in a reclining chair, casually cracking sunflower seeds like he was watching a movie.
"…Huh?"
"And then what?" Akira asked, spitting out a seed shell. "Go on. Why'd you stop? What, did it freeze?"
Itachi's face darkened to a terrifying degree.
"You're not Akira. Who are you? Why are you pretending to be my brother?!"
The real Akira would never stay this calm while watching their parents die, let alone snack and enjoy the show.
This guy had to be a fake.
Itachi had already sensed something was wrong when "Akira" showed up wearing sunglasses.
Testing him with Tsukuyomi confirmed it.
"Oh, me?" Akira straightened up and leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious. "I'm your ancestor."
He pointed at himself.
"You unfilial descendant. Hurry up and kneel before your great ancestor!"
Itachi's fury boiled over.
Akira was his one true reverse scale, the line no one was allowed to cross.
And now someone dared to impersonate his brother and toy with him like this.
Unforgivable. Absolutely unforgivable.
"..."
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