The scarlet Mangekyō Sharingan spun violently as oppressive chakra surged through the air, coiling and twisting before forming into a massive crimson skeletal figure.
This was Itachi's Susanoo. In its right hand, the skeletal giant held a longsword made of ethereal orange flame.
—The Totsuka Blade.
A spiritual weapon that could seal anything it pierced into a drunken dream-like genjutsu realm for eternity.
The moment the blade manifested, it burst forth with a dreamlike glow—light that extended from the sword's edge. With a graceful sweep, it carved a perfect arc through the air. The blade's shriek cut the silence, elusive and strange, carrying a crushing pressure as it thrust directly at Fugaku and Mikoto.
The two stood still, just as they had that night. They smiled as the blade descended, as if watching their son fall into old habits again. Mikoto even had the composure to murmur conversationally,
"Sasuke's gotten into some bad habits too…"
Shlunk. The blade pierced both of them at once.
Whether it was the toll of maintaining Susanoo or the emotional shock of the scene before him, Itachi coughed harshly, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. His mind swam in a daze, like thousands of needles stabbing into his brain, his vision flickering with darkness.
"I'm so sorry…" he murmured, his expression caught between tears and numbness. It was unclear if anyone even heard his whisper.
Fugaku and Mikoto, run through by the Totsuka Blade, showed no anger or sorrow. No joy, no pain. Only peace. They calmly accepted their end, their bodies crumbling to dust as their souls drifted toward the gourd on the blade's hilt, sucked in like smoke.
As parents, how could they not have seen through Sasuke's schemes? He wanted revenge on Itachi, and they—willingly—played along. They just hoped this staged tragedy would ease Sasuke's hatred and pull Itachi back from the brink. They didn't want the brothers to truly become enemies who fought to the death...
With the Totsuka Blade's seal completed, Itachi stood there—numb with pain. There were no words in this world that could describe the hollow ache in his heart. He wanted to die. But even in death, he might not see his parents again in the Pure Land. So perhaps… death was no release at all.
Kisame stood nearby, silently watching as Itachi grieved alone.
Then suddenly—something changed.
A frigid, bone-deep killing intent surged from an unknown source, locking onto Itachi like a vice. The pressure was overwhelming—crushing, suffocating.
A chill ran down Itachi's spine. Every hair on his body stood on end. He immediately summoned Susanoo again, positioning the Yata Mirror in front of himself and Kisame.
The next instant, a violent wind howled. A shadowy figure materialized in the distance.
It was a giant over ten meters tall, formed from swirling mist and smoke. Its shape resembled a Susanoo… but it wasn't one.
One of its arms slowly morphed into a long blade. Even from afar, it radiated decay and corruption.
Before Itachi could even recover from the shock, the mist giant raised its blade and cleaved downward toward him!
Against such a massive and sudden assault, evasion was meaningless.
When the mist blade clashed with the Yata Mirror, there was no sound—only an overwhelming fog that threatened to swallow everything in its path.
The Yata Mirror corroded instantly under the blade's rust-like energy. The red Susanoo's skeletal form crumbled apart. Itachi collapsed backward, unable to remain standing.
Kisame quickly caught him and asked, "Was that one of your brother's summoned weapons?"
He didn't fully understand Susanoo, assuming that each Mangekyō could summon a different type of giant warrior.
Hearing Kisame's voice, Itachi forced his eyes open. Pain coursed through his entire body. His thoughts were sluggish and scattered—side effects of chakra depletion.
"Kh—cough!" Itachi tried to respond but instead coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips in thick streams.
"You're seriously injured, Itachi-san. Do you still plan to keep going?" Kisame asked with sincere concern.
"Thank you... But I have no other choice," Itachi whispered, struggling to stand with Kisame's help. He had already sacrificed his parents—again. He had given up too much. He couldn't afford to stop now.
He'd already walked ninety steps down a hundred-step path. If he gave up here, wouldn't all those steps be for nothing?
The ringing in his ears was maddening. His vision spun with golden sparks. His chakra and ocular power were drained to dangerous levels—but he forced himself to think.
That earlier display—the light from the Totsuka Blade, the brilliant giant—it should have drawn attention. And yet the city of peace remained quiet. This had to be a trap. Their plan had already been exposed.
That misty giant… it wasn't a Susanoo. Itachi didn't know what it was, but it clearly had nothing to do with Susanoo. Still, it was likely connected to Sasuke. According to the intel provided by Sarutobi Hiruzen, Sasuke had once unleashed this kind of mist during the chaos of the Chūnin Exams.
Itachi still found it hard to believe. How had that foolish little brother of his—the one who used to whimper like a kicked puppy—become so cold and terrifying?
"Kisame, how much chakra do you have left? Can you still fight?" Itachi needed to reassess their situation and form a new plan.
Kisame gave a lopsided grin. "I've used quite a bit too… only got ninety percent left."
"…Tch," Itachi grimaced. Why was he jealous?
He was in no shape for a direct confrontation. He'd lose to Sasuke head-on. He needed Kisame to control the field and buy him just one shot—one perfect chance to land Kotoamatsukami and end it all.
"Itachi-san, your brother Sasuke is here," Kisame said grimly.
The surrounding mist slowly retracted, revealing a solitary figure.
Even with his blurred vision, Itachi recognized that silhouette instantly.
It was Sasuke.
Usually calm and composed, Itachi's face twisted with a rare mix of emotion—conflict, panic, fury. Because Sasuke wore an expression of mockery, disdain, and contempt. No sadness. No anger. No pain.
—Was Sasuke truly unmoved by their parents' death?
They didn't speak. Their Sharingan locked eyes, red irises staring into red, like rivers of blood flowing straight from hell.
Sasuke's eyes were still the standard three-tomoe Sharingan—but something about them was deeply wrong. There was a malevolent, otherworldly pull to them, like a bottomless abyss that threatened to devour anything it met.
Itachi instinctively felt that these weren't normal eyes. They only looked like the Sharingan. Whatever was inside them… was something entirely different. Just staring into them made his soul feel like it was going to explode.
"You really are a beast, Itachi," Sasuke rasped, his voice cold and hoarse. "Once wasn't enough… you had to kill them again. Heh… heh… heh…"
The laughter was like a venomous serpent hissing in the dark—it sent a chill straight through Itachi's bones.
And in that moment, Itachi froze.
A horrifying thought crossed his mind—so bold, so unbearable, he could hardly accept it.
"You… Are you really Sasuke?"
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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