Itachi Uchiha's son Shinra Uchiha

Ash Gate's broken stones still glowed in the dawn light, scattered with chakra-imbued dust and root splinters. Boruto and Shinra stood amid the ruin, side by side, bruised but unbroken. The morning air was chill, but the tension hung heavy—it felt alive, as though the world held its breath.

Boruto watched Shinra kneel in the shattered courtyard, picking charred root fragments from his palm. Without looking up, Shinra spoke softly, "He pressed the Claw Marks too deep—each mark I slowed, I felt him slipping into darkness."

Boruto approached, voice quiet. "He used the Claws like traps... to fracture your roots, to stop you from growing them."

Shinra nodded, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. "He carved runes in the air—his Claw Marks hard as stone. I countered with living roots, seeping into the ground, weaving precision vines." He held up his hand, fingers trembling from exhaustion. "But when he struck with that last Claw, time almost broke."

Boruto blinked. "You slowed time… but how did you break him?" His voice carried wonder and something darker.

Shinra placed a root fragment down. "I used his own momentum. He left himself open when he lunged to end the cycle. I struck then. My blade pressed near his neck—an edge against darkness."

Boruto looked toward the gate. "Then the flames—Koji—why did he interfere?"

Shinra stood slowly, brushing dust from his cloak. He studied the rising sun. "Because Code isn't the lesson yet. And killing him would teach me nothing."

Boruto's brow creased. "So you didn't kill him already?"

Shinra turned to him, voice measured. "He fractured the Ten-Tails—weaponized pieces of it against us. But if we kill him here, another could do it again. I needed to stop the act. Not the man." His eyes softened. "Koji's words... they hold weight. He believes in redirecting broken paths—not only cutting them."

Boruto's jaw tightened. "I see the broken pieces, but I still feel the cut."

Shinra placed a firm hand on Boruto's shoulder. "We heal what we can. We learn from it. We walk with the scars, not under them."

A wind stirred and carried them both forward, away from the battle-scarred gate.

They walked in silence along a forested ridge, sunlight through trembling leaves. Truth tended to bloom first in quiet places.

Boruto spoke finally: "If you carry Itachi's blood and choose mercy, what does that mean for me... for the village?"

Shinra's eyes reflected the green dawn. "It means power is a tool—not a verdict. It means a man can carry blood and still write his own name. We open our hands... not clutch our blades."

Boruto closed his fist, letting go of the weight. "Then I'll hold it too—with purpose."

Shinra placed a small root shard into Boruto's hand. "So she carries a choice."

Boruto tapped his blade nexus. "We stand for that."

Shinra nodded. He then led Boruto to the edge of the ridge, where the valley opened to rolling hills and distant mountains.

"In time," Shinra said, voice firm, "we'll address what Code wanted to build. But for now, we prepare."

Boruto stood beside him under copper light, awareness sharpening. "What will they think when the village hears of a living echo of Itachi?"

Shinra's silhouette softened. "They will feel fear—or they can feel hope. We decide which they remember."

Boruto inhaled deep the new day, resolve coiling. "Then let them remember a sword that served life."

As the sun swung higher, they stepped away from the ridge. No dramatic exit—just two figures walking forward. In the hush behind them, Ash Gate stood broken—but not defeated, scarred but enduring.

Far below, in hidden caverns lit by ten-tailed aura residue, Code pressed his palm to the stone floor, Chakra-husk fragments glowing in his veins.

He whispered, voice distant but venomous: "Next time... I will carve the world to bone."

But his voice echoed unanswered—resting on the promise of return, the weight of choice, and the dawn of the path ahead.