I'M NARUTO UZUMAKI

"You have desecrated Shisui's legacy."

Lifting the kunai, Itachi thrust the blade into the chest of the fleeing Uchiha clansman. The man gasped, his Sharingan fading as he looked up at Itachi in disbelief. Blood trickled from his lips as he choked out his final breath.

Itachi withdrew the kunai, flicking off the blood with a cold expression, his gaze shifting toward the Uchiha compound's main estate. It was the home where he had spent his thirteen years of life—the place he was about to leave behind forever.

Tonight, he would shoulder the sins of his clan. The coup, the rebellion—it all ended with him. By erasing the Uchiha, he ensured that Sasuke would not inherit the clan's burden of treason. The world would curse his name, but he alone would bear that weight.

As he perched atop a telephone pole, scanning the compound, he noticed something unsettling. There were fewer Uchiha around than expected. Had they all left for missions? Or had he—the masked man—already begun his massacre elsewhere?

Itachi didn't dwell on it. He had made his choice. With a few swift body flickers, he arrived in front of his home.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, his grip tightening around his kunai. His father, Uchiha Fugaku—the head of the clan, the leader of the coup—was waiting.

In the dimly lit living room, Fugaku and Mikoto stood with their backs to him, unmoving. They did not draw their weapons. They did not resist.

"Itachi," Fugaku spoke first, his voice calm, almost knowing. "So, you've chosen the village."

A heavy silence followed before he continued, "Tell me—what did the Hokage offer you? Power? The title of ANBU Commander? Or simply your own survival?"

Itachi took a breath, his voice steady. "They promised to erase the truth about the Uchiha coup... and to let Sasuke live, unharmed."

Fugaku's expression flickered—perhaps surprise, perhaps disappointment. "...That is all?" he said with a quiet chuckle. "I see. The Uchiha truly were disposable."

"Father, you knew the coup was doomed. You knew we would be crushed by the village's might. Rather than let the clan be slaughtered in open war, I chose to end it on my terms," Itachi reasoned.

Fugaku sighed. "Of course I knew. But a leader does not simply abandon his people. If Shisui had lived, if you had fought by my side... perhaps things could have been different."

"Shisui would never have supported this rebellion," Itachi countered. "And neither could I. We are part of Konoha. We do not destroy it from within."

Fugaku closed his eyes for a long moment, then exhaled. "I understand, Itachi. The path you walk is yours alone. But I pray, for your sake, that you have chosen correctly."

Mikoto, who had been silent all this time, turned with a soft smile. "Take care of Sasuke, Itachi. Your pain will be far worse than ours."

Itachi's grip on his kunai trembled. He couldn't bring himself to strike them down.

Sensing his hesitation, Fugaku and Mikoto exchanged a final glance. Then, in unison, they reached for their prepared daggers.

"Itachi," Fugaku said, a hint of pride in his voice, "you don't have to stain your hands with our blood."

Before they could drive the blades into their own chests, a sharp whoosh cut through the air.

A shuriken struck, knocking the daggers from their hands.

Panting in the corridor stood Sasuke, his Sharingan burning red, a kunai gripped tightly in his trembling fingers.

"I won't let you die!" Sasuke shouted.

Mikoto's smile faltered. "Sasuke..."

But Sasuke had already turned to face Itachi, his voice shaking with fury. "Why, nii-san? You betrayed our family! You murdered our people! I—I won't forgive you!"

Mikoto looked back at Itachi, her gaze full of sorrow. "He's too young for this. Please, let him forget."

Itachi hesitated for a moment, then met Sasuke's glare. His Mangekyō Sharingan spun to life.

"Tsukuyomi."

Sasuke barely had time to react before he was pulled into the illusion. The world around him turned crimson. For what felt like hours, he relived the horror of his clan's slaughter. When the genjutsu ended, his body collapsed, unconscious.

As Itachi gently laid his little brother inside a storage closet, he whispered, "Hate me, Sasuke. Grow strong... and one day, face me."

Turning back, he found Fugaku and Mikoto already slumped over, daggers buried in their own chests.

A chilling silence settled over the house.

Itachi clenched his fists.

There was no turning back now.

But just as he prepared to leave, several figures appeared in the courtyard. Uchiha shinobi—alive.

Itachi narrowed his eyes. Impossible. No one should have survived the purge.

Among them, one man stepped forward and removed his mask.

Itachi froze.

"Shisui?"

But that was impossible. Shisui had died. He had given Itachi his eye before taking his own life.

And yet, here he was, standing before him, very much alive.

"Itachi," Shisui's voice was grave. "You betrayed everything we stood for. You raised your blade against your own clan. Why?"

Itachi remained silent. His heart, for the first time that night, wavered.

Shisui continued, his expression unreadable. "You once swore to protect our people. Have you truly abandoned that promise?"

"...You are not the Shisui I knew," Itachi finally said, his voice cold once more. "He was willing to die for the village. He believed in its future. He would never seek to divide it."

Shisui's expression darkened. "Then prove it. Prove that your path is the right one."

He drew his kodachi.

Itachi lifted his kunai.

"This is not about revenge," Shisui said. "This is about justice."

Itachi exhaled. "I will not allow you to desecrate Shisui's legacy."

And then, they clashed.

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