Naruto: Reborn in His Younger Self

Uchiha Clan District

Shisui and Itachi moved silently, wary of being spotted by any potential patrols. Though they had transformed their appearances to resemble ordinary civilians, being discovered could still cause unnecessary trouble.

Thus, the two moved with utmost stealth.

They were confident that, moving in this manner, no one would detect them—after all, both had once been elite members of the Konoha ANBU, top-tier shinobi in their own right.

Eventually, they reached the boundary line marking the entrance to the Uchiha district. Several layers of cordon tape had been set up around the entrance, signaling that something unusual had occurred within.

Uchiha Shisui looked at the familiar territory of his former clan and found himself unable to stay calm.

Itachi, too, stared at the surroundings. In his mind, that night replayed in vivid flashes—the night he drew his blade again and again, cutting down his own clansmen.

For some reason, standing here now, Itachi found himself frozen. The memories weighed too heavily on him. He had believed he had come to terms with them, but the moment he stood at the edge of his former home, fear clawed its way back into his chest.

His legs refused to move.

Shisui gently placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Itachi nodded, inhaling slowly, and stepped forward. The two of them walked down the broad, eerily quiet street. Their presence seemed ghostly amidst the hollow silence of what was once a proud and vibrant district.

Fortunately, at this hour, the Konoha Military Police Force was stationed around the outer perimeter, and after briefly scanning the area with their chakra perception, neither of them sensed any immediate guards nearby.

This section of the village lay on the outskirts. Few people ever passed through anymore.

As Itachi walked, he passed walls adorned with the Uchiha clan crest—the fan symbol, now faded and cracked. At one spot, Itachi stopped and looked up at a familiar telephone pole.

Shisui tilted his head, puzzled. He followed Itachi's gaze and frowned. "What's wrong?"

Itachi stared at the pole and answered without hesitation. "That night… I stood up there for a long time. I looked down at the village. I saw the lights from every home, the shadows dancing through the paper windows… and I saw my little brother, Sasuke."

Shisui imagined the scene and asked quietly, "Were you hesitating for a long time?"

Itachi nodded slowly. He then turned around and resumed walking, with Shisui following silently.

"I thought about so many things," Itachi continued. "But the moment I jumped down from that pole… it felt like my heart died."

Shisui sighed, a bitter smile on his lips. "I don't even know if I should comfort you or hit you. Honestly, I have such a complicated feeling right now. The clan I once loved… vanished like this. And back then, I actually…"

Itachi knew that Shisui wasn't blaming him. Shisui's self-blame was even heavier than any reproach he could give Itachi.

Shisui kept thinking: If only he hadn't gone to Danzō. If he had instead relied on the power of Kotoamatsukami, the Distinguished Heavenly Gods, or if he and Itachi had worked together—perhaps they could have resisted. Perhaps they could have changed the outcome. Maybe they couldn't have saved the entire clan—but at least the civilians, the women and children. Anything would have been better than this.

Now, if Naruto hadn't resurrected both Shisui and Itachi, the Uchiha bloodline would've been reduced to a single bearer: Sasuke. The clan's future was on the verge of extinction.

As they walked, Itachi subconsciously brought Shisui to the entrance of his former home.

Itachi stared at the door. His gaze slowly drifted to the wall beside it, where the Uchiha crest was chipped and broken at the edge. He knew exactly what had caused it.

That day, Sasuke had hidden inside the house. Some villagers had accused him of killing Shisui, and in his rage, Sasuke had stabbed a kunai into the crest, leaving a permanent scar on their family's symbol.

"I actually came back here… How could I?" Itachi murmured to himself.

Shisui said quietly, "People, when they return to a familiar place, they instinctively relax. The body remembers where it belongs… and brings you back home."

Itachi looked at the door. It was shut, undisturbed. He frowned for a moment, then stepped forward to open it.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Shisui offered.

Itachi shook his head. "No… I can do this."

Shisui nodded. "I'll wait for you outside."

Itachi pushed the door open. Dust stirred in the air as it creaked inward. He waved a hand to clear the dust, stepped inside, and released the Transformation Technique, revealing his true face.

He made his way to the bedroom and opened the door.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating two faint, human-shaped bloodstains on the floor.

Even after all this time, the blood had left its mark.

At a single glance, tears welled up in Itachi's eyes.

The emotion surged uncontrollably, and his Sharingan activated involuntarily.

Then, as though his strength had left him entirely, he collapsed to his knees with a heavy thud.

He clenched his teeth and lowered his head until it struck the floor.

His body trembled. Tears flowed freely.

He was back there again—his trembling hands gripped the blade tightly as he stood behind his mother and father.

In his ears, he heard his father's voice again—Uchiha Fugaku, speaking with quiet resolve:

"Itachi, please… promise me. Take care of Sasuke."

"Don't be afraid. Compared to you, our suffering is only momentary."

"Even if we differ in ideals, we are still proud of you."

"You are truly a kind boy."

All the guilt, all the years of suppressed pain, exploded within him like a dam breaking.

"Ahhh—Dad! Mom! I'm sorry! Ahhhhh!"

Itachi raised his fists and smashed them into the floor.

Boom. The wooden floor cracked beneath the force of his strike.

Itachi wept like a child.

His tears carried all the pain of that night—the night he murdered his clan, the night he killed his parents.

Suddenly, his eyes responded to his overwhelming emotions.

With a hum, his Sharingan evolved.

The Mangekyō Sharingan awakened—once more.

Outside, Shisui heard the noise and immediately rushed inside.

"Itachi! What happened?!"

He found Itachi kneeling amidst the shattered floorboards, wailing in agony. Shisui's chest tightened with pain.

He knew. He understood. Itachi was drowning in memory, in guilt, in sorrow.

Itachi looked up at the bloodstained floor and sobbed, "Shisui… I'm not even human…"

Shisui crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Itachi, don't blame yourself. If you hadn't done it, the village would have gone to war against the Uchiha. There would've been even more death."

"And if the other villages had sensed Konoha's vulnerability and attacked… it would have been catastrophic."

"You were just a casualty of peace. Don't carry all the blame alone."

Itachi wiped his tears, but his heart could not be soothed.

No matter how many times he tried to rationalize it, he couldn't forgive himself. Not for what that Itachi had done. Not for the genocide of his clan.

"…Thank you, Shisui. For still recognizing me as your friend."

Shisui smiled faintly. "It's nothing."

He was about to say more—perhaps offer more words of comfort—but then his eyes widened.

"Itachi… your eyes!"

Startled, Itachi blinked. He focused his chakra and realized it—his Mangekyō Sharingan had awakened again.

Shisui's smile deepened. "Looks like your strength has returned."

Itachi nodded, his gaze resolute.

"I want to use these new eyes… to witness a new future for the shinobi world."

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