Itachi Uchiha's son Shinra Uchiha

The moonlight filtered through cracked rafters, draping the forgotten Uchiha hideout in silver. The once-proud stronghold had fallen into ruin—chakra seals long since faded, altars scorched, scrolls reduced to ash. The air itself hummed with a silence too heavy to ignore.

Boruto stepped cautiously between the fallen stones, every footfall stirring memories not his own. "This place feels... haunted," he murmured.

Shinra, walking just ahead, paused by a burnt pillar. "It is," he replied quietly. "But not by ghosts. By choices."

The ruins weren't empty. They breathed. The deeper they ventured, the more Boruto felt a pulse beneath the floor—faint, ancient, angry.

They reached the central chamber—circular, wide, once used for Uchiha council meetings. The faded crest carved into the ground was barely visible under the dust. Boruto turned to Shinra.

"You've been here before."

Shinra said nothing. His hand traced the stone. A quiet ache shadowed his face.

That was when the air shifted.

Boruto's hand flew to his sword. Shinra raised his head.

Shapes moved at the edge of the light—figures cloaked in ragged armor, their eyes blank, their bodies twitching with unstable chakra.

They weren't shinobi.

They were monsters.

And they didn't speak.

More spilled into view—dozens—mindless husks twisted from Ten Tails' cells, skin blackened, limbs elongated, sharing a single silent will.

Code's army had found them.

From behind the advancing swarm, a behemoth lumbered forward—twice the size of the others, its eye glowing like a dying sun.

Boruto gritted his teeth. "Why send these corpses?" he growled. "Trying to feed me to that thing—harvest your damn chakra fruit?"

The creatures surged, driven by instinct, not reason. Not even rage.

Shinra took one silent step forward, then another. "They don't know pain. They only know hunger. This isn't war. It's farming."

Boruto's chakra flared. "Let's burn the crop."

The first husk lunged. Boruto countered with a flash-step, his blade slicing clean through its neck. It crumbled like ash, but three more took its place.

Shinra didn't speak. His movements were so fluid they seemed rehearsed—hands weaving through air, drawing vines from cracks in the earth to whip, snare, and crush enemies without pause.

Boruto unleashed Rasengan variants, scattering light across the chamber. But they kept coming.

The Ten Tails beast shrieked, shaking the ground. It charged.

Boruto raised his sword.

But Shinra moved faster.

His hand touched the beast's head for just a moment—then his chakra threaded outward, crawling through the beast's corrupted system.

It froze, mid-roar, trembling.

Boruto blinked. "What did you—"

Shinra's voice was distant. "I calmed it."

From behind the swarm, a figure stepped forward—partially armored, his left arm gleaming with black prosthetics. He looked older, scarred, with eyes that had seen war and betrayal. His voice was slow and measured.

"Fascinating," he muttered, staring at Shinra. "You control it? Not through suppression… but through resonance."

Boruto took a step forward, blade raised. "Who are you?"

The man smirked. "I'm the architect. I built these husks. This beast. And it should have devoured you."

He pointed at Shinra.

"But instead, it bows to you."

His eyes narrowed.

"That chakra… your composure… You're not Sasuke. Not Sarada. No Uchiha alive today carries themselves like that."

He stepped closer, gaze cold. "You're something else."

Boruto's heart pounded.

The enemy squinted, then spoke with quiet realization:

"Your chakra doesn't lie. It burns with three veins. And only one shinobi ever mastered control like that."

He spat the name like it was acid. "Itachi."

Boruto froze. "What…?"

The enemy's voice turned reverent, almost fearful. "He was a phantom—his genjutsu turned legends into fools. His blade killed without hate. You—You're…"

He didn't finish the sentence.

Shinra stepped forward.

The wind stilled.

He removed his cloak, letting it fall. The Uchiha crest gleamed on his armor, etched deep into black steel.

His eyes, shadowed, met the enemy's.

 "I wasn't born like others," he said, voice even. "I was forged in silence… from the blood of Uchiha Itachi."

Boruto stumbled back, stunned.

The chamber seemed to exhale.

The Ten Tails spawn bowed its head—drawn to something deeper than power.

The enemy backed away, lips trembling. "You're a weapon… made to carry his will."

Shinra stepped closer.

 "No. I'm a memory that learned to breathe."

Boruto whispered, "You… You're his…"

Shinra turned to him slowly, eyes steady.

"I don't carry his name. But I carry everything he couldn't say."

The enemy fled.

The beast lowered itself. The remaining husks crumbled into ash, their link severed by Shinra's pressure.

Boruto stood still.

And Shinra—calm, composed—began walking toward the exit.

Boruto followed.

The past had just opened its eyes. And it was staring at him.