Uchiha Clan Leader's Residence.
Bedroom.
"You can come in. There are no traps."
Uchiha Fugaku and his wife, Mikoto, knelt quietly on the floor. Their expressions were calm, almost blank, their stillness a quiet response to the screams echoing across the district.
The bedroom door slid open.
Itachi entered, covered in the blood of his clansmen.
His Konoha forehead protector gleamed beneath the moonlight. He wore the standard grey ANBU armor and carried a sharp, bloodstained ninja blade in hand.
Fugaku sensed his son's hesitation and lowered his head with understanding.
"So it's come to this… You've chosen their side."
"Father… Mother… I…"
Itachi's eyes brimmed with tears. He couldn't bring himself to meet their gaze.
"We understand, Itachi."
Mikoto's voice was cold but steady.
"Itachi, promise me one thing," Fugaku said gently. "Take care of Sasuke."
"…I will."
Tears spilled from Itachi's three-tomoe Sharingan. His hands trembled violently around the hilt of his blade.
"There's no need to be afraid. This is your choice, isn't it?"
"Our pain… is fleeting compared to yours."
Fugaku looked up and said firmly, "Even if we walk different paths… we will always be proud of you."
Itachi's sword hovered between them like a mirror. Reflected on both sides of its polished steel were the cold, unflinching faces of his parents.
Then—
"You've always been… such a kind child," Fugaku whispered.
Itachi's heart clenched. He bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood. Tears poured uncontrollably, soaking his trembling hands.
Konoha's peace.
The clan's ambition.
A future with no exit.
The promises of comrades.
A world without war.
All of it—twisted cords wrapped tightly around his heart.
And the one nearest his heart…
was labeled Clan.
If he could just cut it.
Maybe then…
He could finally breathe.
He didn't hesitate for long.
"I… understand."
Already prepared to fall into hell, Uchiha Itachi lifted the blade—
Slash—
Blood splattered onto the wooden floor, a crimson streak painting the boards like a brutal brushstroke.
Fugaku fell without resistance.
But then—
Mikoto flinched.
Her pupils flashed red.
The jagged pattern of the Mangekyō Sharingan swirled in her eyes.
As Itachi raised his blade once more, a kunai slipped from Mikoto's sleeve.
She grabbed it.
Whirled.
And blocked his strike head-on.
Clang!
Sparks erupted as metal clashed against metal.
Itachi's eyes widened in disbelief. His Sharingan locked onto hers.
"...Mangekyō?!"
Mikoto opened her mouth slowly, but her expression was blank—almost dazed.
It wasn't her will moving her.
It was her body.
It had made the choice for her: It didn't want to die.
Without hesitation, her instincts took over.
She twisted away, leapt back—
and crashed through the bedroom window.
Crash—
Glass shattered.
She disappeared into the night, never once looking back.
"…"
Itachi stared down at his father's lifeless body…
then back toward the spot where his mother had vanished.
His thoughts scattered—chaotic and broken.
What just happened?
Praised by the Third Hokage as a mind equal to any Kage, Itachi forced himself to focus.
Was it because she couldn't abandon Sasuke?
Father is dead.
Mother awakened the Mangekyō…
But even if she survived, it changes nothing.
Itachi turned and left the clan head's residence, returning to the streets. He glanced around—empty.
"If both Father and Mother had awakened the Mangekyō…
then the one lying dead here…
…would have been me."
He turned his eyes toward the direction of the Police Force headquarters.
The fighting had ceased.
He figured he had around fifteen minutes left.
---
Meanwhile.
At the edge of the Uchiha District—deep in the forest.
The night was thick with darkness. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the soft shuffle of boots brushing against bark.
Three-man teams were arriving one after another.
They wore masks patterned in blue and green, donned grey-and-white tactical armor, bore tattoos on their left arms, and each carried a ninja blade.
These were Danzō's elite operatives—a secretive unit formed under the guise of ANBU training: the Root.
Now, these Root shinobi stood or crouched on branches, shrouded in shadow like predators born from darkness.
Thud—
A dull tap echoed through the woods.
The Root operatives turned—then immediately stepped aside and bowed their heads.
An old but unyielding figure emerged from the shadows.
He walked slowly down the path they cleared for him.
In the faint, dappled moonlight, his face came into view—lined with wrinkles, marked by a deep, diagonal scar.
Shimura Danzō.
He leaned on a cane with his left hand. His right eye was hidden beneath white bandages. His right arm was draped in a black robe, unmoving against his chest.
Danzō stared deep into the woods.
His dim left eye narrowed.
His shadow swallowed the moonlight behind him.
Where he stood, no light could reach.
"Shimura Danzō!!"
From the trees above, Uchiha Nanami and the others—disguised as Root operatives—saw who had arrived. Their pupils shrank. Breaths caught in their throats.
Is this what Inzuki brought us here for?
To confront Danzō?!
This is suicide!
Like a hammer to the chest, the realization knocked the despair out of them. They snapped back to focus.
This was impossible.
The man before them was the Hokage's advisor.
Even if they added Inzuki's Mangekyō to their number, they couldn't possibly get through over a hundred Root operatives surrounding Danzō.
Could Inzuki control them all?
No way.
That was what every Uchiha thought at that moment.
It couldn't be done.
Swish—
Two Root shinobi returned from deep within the forest, dropping to a crouch before Danzō.
"Danzō-sama. The fighting in the Uchiha district is nearly over."
Danzō nodded slightly, eye narrowed. His voice low and rough:
"Then go. We don't have much time. Start collecting the eyes."
"Yes, Danzō-sama."
Suddenly—
The Root member on the right looked up.
From beneath his mask, his eye gleamed crimson—
Three jagged tomoe blades rotated rapidly, forming the pattern of the Mangekyō Sharingan.
He smirked.
"You mean… these eyes?"
He stood up slowly and removed the mask.
Inzuki's face appeared.
His Mangekyō burst into red light—Yin chakra flaring—
and locked eyes with Danzō's exposed left eye.
Their ocular powers clashed.
Danzō's eye surged with three-tomoe Sharingan—but was instantly overwhelmed.
The Mangekyō crashed through like a tidal wave, shattering the weaker power before it.
All around them, Root operatives who happened to meet his gaze froze mid-motion.
Dozens of masked figures turned to stone—paralyzed.
The remaining Uchiha were stunned.
He did it.
He actually did it.
In a single instant, Inzuki had seized control of everyone here.
That was the power of his Mangekyō.
"W-What's going on?!"
"Danzō-sama!"
"We're under attack!"
Though they screamed inside, none of the Root shinobi could speak. Their bodies refused to move.
"Why… is there an Uchiha here…?"
Danzō stood frozen, alarmed, unable to budge.
How could he have predicted—
That while he hunted the Uchiha like prey…
one Uchiha had made him the prey.
Suddenly—
A Root operative on the left lunged forward.
His mask flew off mid-air, revealing Tamayo's doll-like face.
"You old bastard—EAT THIS!!"
Stab—
He tackled Danzō head-on, ninja blade piercing his heart.
Quick. Clean. Precise.
Tamayo had been puppeted by Inzuki's control—
but he was grinning ear to ear.
He'd wanted to kill this old monster for a long time.
At the same time—
Inzuki reached out, claw-like fingers tearing through Danzō's bandages.
Blood spurted from his eye socket as Inzuki ripped out the concealed Sharingan.
A Mangekyō, unmistakably…
Kotoamatsukami.
The Uchiha hidden in the trees watched the red-and-white eye in awe, fury lighting their expressions.
In that instant, they understood—
Shisui's death…
was connected to Danzō.
Blood bloomed like a flower, spreading across Danzō's chest and face.
The crimson soaked through his robes, dripping onto the earth.