5 days before the Uchiha massacre:

The clone dispersed.

A flood of new information surged through my mind. So Danzo's plan is to kill all the Uchiha's regardless of their initiative to create a coup or not. Right now, he is hunting Shisui Uchiha through the forest after he took one of his eyes. The eye that added a new variable to my plans.

Kotoamatsukami.

Apparently, this sharingan has a specific ability in the case of Shisui. As Danzo describe it—a genjutsu capable of manipulating one's will without their awareness. Not a temporary illusion, not an illusion that could be broken by chakra control or external interference. No, this was far more invasive. It altered perceptions, rewriting the very foundation of a person's desires and thoughts. To those affected, their new will was indistinguishable from their true feelings.

I leaned against the cool stone wall, allowing the silence of the underground tunnel to settle around me. Could such a thing truly exist? Chakra techniques were bound by laws—an extension of the user's will shaped by the energy within the body and the world. This technique, however, broke convention. It did not merely distort perception temporarily—it rewired the very mechanics of the mind.

The implications were... unsettling.

I had always believed that my will was absolute. But if this power could alter even that, then my greatest asset—my mind—was vulnerable. I am not so arrogant to assume immunity. Even with my conditioning, if the power was as formidable as Danzo claimed, I would be no exception.

A thought crept into my mind. Could it work on me? Could it implant emotions foreign to my nature? If so, could I use it on myself? The notion was intriguing. Could I manufacture emotions that I lacked? Could I make myself feel something as irrational as love or attachment? More pragmatically, could I use it to instill anger or hatred?

No. I dismissed the thought. Such a technique was not in my possession. Danzo held that power now. That alone was a problem.

I had spent the past years crafting an image—a perfect specimen, efficient and cold. Every training I had undertaken was designed to escalate Danzo's expectations. I made no mistakes. I completed every objective with precision beyond my peers. And by exceeding his demands, I ensured he would grant me higher-level tasks. The more difficult the missions, the further I was allowed to operate beyond the Root facility.

Freedom was not given. It was taken in increments.

Yet, despite my control over this trajectory, a simple reality presented itself: If Danzo believed there was even the smallest chance that I would become disloyal, he would use that eye on me. It was the logical move. One that I would make if our positions were reversed. No loose ends. No room for deviation.

And unlike the hypothetical scenarios I had considered before, this threat could not be ignored. It did not matter how small the probability was. If the possibility existed—if there was any chance that he would use it—I had to act.

This was unacceptable.

Danzo's greatest strength was also his weakness—he trusted no one. While that made him paranoid, it also left him isolated. It meant he relied on control mechanisms rather than genuine loyalty. But no method of control was perfect. There were always gaps in a system, no matter how meticulously it was constructed.

And I had already begun exploiting those gaps.

Still, the timing was critical. If he chose to use Kotoamatsukami, everything I had built would be erased in an instant. All the contingencies I had prepared, all the mechanisms I had set in motion—none of it would matter if my will ceased to be my own.

The conclusion was clear:

Danzo cannot be allowed to use that eye on me.

I might have to take a new approach.

◆◇◆◇◆

I needed one more detail to finalize my decision.

The artificial lights of the Root facility flickered faintly as I examined my forearm. Two of my point-like chakra seals dissipated in an instant, releasing a concentrated surge of blue chakra that shimmered around me like a faint out.

Without wasting another second, I slipped through the sterile corridors and exited the Root facility undetected. I had no intention of lingering longer than necessary. 

Once I had put sufficient distance between myself and the facility, I channeled a fraction of my chakra. Without weaving any hand seals, one hundred clones manifested instantaneously. Each one dispersed without hesitation, fanning out across the village in a calculated search pattern. The night was cold, the breeze carrying whispers of unrest, but the darkness provided the perfect cover. I had no room for error—my next move hinged on verifying one critical variable.

Hours passed.

The village was vast, but my clones were thorough. 

At the edge of a high cliff near a waterfall, two figures stood silhouetted against the moonlight. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking their identities—Shisui Uchiha and Itachi Uchiha. So, Danzo hadn't captured Shisui after all. This confirmed that he only possessed one of Shisui's eyes, meaning the other still remained in play.

A faint trace of blood lingered on Shisui's face, evidence of the violence he had recently endured. Despite the injury, his posture remained composed, though his voice carried a distinct edge of finality.

"It seems the Uchiha coup can't be stopped," Shisui said quietly, his back still turned to Itachi. His words hung in the cold air, heavy with resignation. "War between the village and the clan is inevitable now. And once it starts, the other villages will join in against us."

His assessment was logical. An internal conflict involving the Uchiha would weaken the Leaf significantly. It was only rational for external powers to exploit that vulnerability. Shisui's attempt to prevent the coup using Kotoamatsukami had failed—Danzo's intervention ensured that. If Danzo had stolen even one of his eyes, he would never stop until he acquired the other.

Shisui's next action only reinforced my hypothesis.

Without hesitation, he turned to face Itachi. The blood staining his face made the scene all the more visceral. With deliberate precision, Shisui raised his hand to his remaining eye.

"He won't stop until he gets this eye too," Shisui said, his voice steady. "But you're the only one I can trust... the only one who can protect the village and the Uchiha."

Itachi's composure faltered for a fraction of a second. His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching in visible disbelief. "Shisui..."

But Shisui had already made his decision. With a swift motion, he extracted his own eye from its socket. It was a rational course of action. If Danzo's objective was to control him through Kotoamatsukami, removing the eye from his possession was the only logical countermeasure.

A black crow emerged from the shadows, landing gently on Shisui's arm. Without needing instruction, it extended its clawed foot toward the eye, securing it before vanishing in a burst of feathers. Intelligent animals capable of using chakra? A smart contingency—using an animal to safeguard the Sharingan ensured it would be hidden beyond Danzo's immediate reach.

Itachi's Sharingan glinted under the moonlight, the three tomoe swirling in response to the intensity of the moment. "What will you do now?" he asked, his voice quieter but no less steady.

Blindness was a debilitating condition in a world where perception meant survival. Shisui's calculated surrender of his vision suggested he had already come to terms with his fate.

"If I die, not much will change," Shisui said calmly, stepping backward toward the cliff's edge. His tone lacked regret—it was the voice of someone who had accepted their inevitable outcome.

Realization struck Itachi a moment too late. "Wait—!"

Shisui lifted a hand in a quiet command. "Don't try to stop me."

With those words, he stepped off the edge.

Itachi lunged forward by reflex, but he was already too late. Shisui's body plummeted into the waterfall below, disappearing beneath the crashing waves. A silence followed—an emptiness that felt as heavy as the night itself.

Itachi stood motionless, his hand trembling faintly at his side. A moment later, crimson tears began to stream down his cheeks. The tomoe in his eyes spun violently before twisting into a new pattern—a three-bladed shuriken. It was the same transformation I had witnessed in Shisui's battle against Danzo.

So, this is how it works.

The Sharingan evolves through the death of a loved one.

Shisui's trust in Itachi had been genuine—but his true intention was more profound. He had given Itachi a gift greater than just the eye. The power to stop the Uchiha coup could only be accessed through the evolution of his Sharingan, and by sacrificing himself, Shisui ensured that transformation.

It raised several critical questions. How many times could the Sharingan evolve? Was there a limit to its potential? And why did each individual's  Sharingan manifest with a unique pattern and ability?

I pushed these questions aside for now. Speculation was a luxury I couldn't afford at the moment.

I had obtained the information I needed. Danzo only possessed one eye, meaning the second was securely in Itachi's hands. That fact alone shifted the balance of power.

This makes things easier.

◆◇◆◇◆

4 days before the Uchiha massacre.

It was time to act.

Due to Danzo's orders of following them, I had observed Itachi's habits long enough to know his routines were precise—predictable, even. Unlike most of his clan, who sought the security of the Uchiha compound for their training, Itachi preferred solitude. I knew he frequently trained in the same secluded forest clearing on the village outskirts, always between dusk and midnight. In the wake of Shisui's disappearance, his mental state would be compromised—an unstable mind, even one as sharp as his, left vulnerabilities. 

Two hours. That was the limit of his usual training duration. Itachi relied primarily on kunai with occasional shuriken barrages—close combat was secondary. 

I removed a slip of paper, encoded a message in Root's cipher, and carefully penned the words:

"Shisui's disappearance is only the beginning. Watch your back."

I folded the paper precisely and slid it beneath a loose stone along the path Itachi always used to return home. Anything related to Shisui would pique his interest—especially now.

A faint chakra pulse left my fingertips, small enough to evade the village's standard sensory nets but distinct enough for a Sharingan user to detect. . Near the edge of the clearing, I created subtle disturbances—a light scuff mark beneath the brush, positioned just where a hidden operative might crouch. An incomplete deception is often more convincing than an elaborate one. Within three minutes, I sensed his chakra approaching, controlled yet curious. He had taken the bait.

I activated the Transformation Jutsu without seals, morphing my attire into the standard Root uniform. Concealing my presence was simple—but now I needed him to see me.

Stepping deliberately into a patch of moonlight, I allowed my silhouette to be seen—just long enough. As if realizing a mistake, I retreated into the shadows, moving with haste but not so much as to suggest full evasion. I allowed glimpses through the foliage, my pace deliberately uneven—hurried, uncertain.

It worked. He followed.

When he emerged, his Sharingan spun faintly in the moonlight. Three tomoe.

I slowed, shifted my posture, and lowered my head in a calculated display of deference.

"I am not your enemy," I said evenly.

His gaze sharpened. "I know you," Itachi said. "You're the kid who found my training months ago."

I nodded, letting the silence stretch just long enough. 

"You are a Root operative," he deduced. "You've been spying on me."

"I know about Shisui's disappearance," I answered, my voice measured. "Danzo fears you more than anyone else."

Itachi's posture remained composed, but I noted a slight shift in the tension of his shoulders. He was listening. I stepped back slightly, softening my tone.

"I know more," I said, "but I cannot speak freely here."

A pause stretched between us, heavy and deliberate. 

"You will tell me everything you know," he said quietly.

I met his gaze, nodding in compliance. For now, I had his attention.

The air was heavy. Not with the weight of simple tension—but with the undertone of something far more dangerous. Itachi led me to a secluded clearing, the trees swaying faintly in the night breeze. The moon hung low, pale light brushing against the edges of his figure. If this discussion ended up in a fight to death, my chances of survival was dangerously low.

His crimson Sharingan spun as he turned to face me. The subtle shift in his stance wasn't a threat, not explicitly. Yet, there was a pressure—a low thrum in the air that suggested otherwise.

"Speak," he ordered, voice quiet but edged with something that hinted at bloodshed.

If this was intimidation, it was wasted on me.

I met his gaze, unyielding. "Your chakra is unbalanced," I said, my tone devoid of emotion. "Stress-induced." I let the words settle before continuing. "You're either overexerting your Sharingan, or the burden you carry is fracturing you."

His expression did not shift. If anything, his unreadable calm sharpened. I examined him further.

"You carry two loyalties," I continued. "The village and the Uchiha. That duality makes you vulnerable. Danzo knows it."

A ripple of energy stirred between us. His eyes—those infamous Sharingan—narrowed ever so slightly. His patience was thinning.

Good.

I lowered my voice, keeping it cold and measured. "I can see it—the moment Shisui lost his eye. Danzo's fingers digging into the socket, the blood trailing down his cheek." The image played in my mind with perfect clarity.

Itachi's eyelids lowered fractionally, the only indication that my words had struck something beneath his impassive mask.

"You weren't there," he said quietly. An assertion more than a question.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice hollow.

He remained still, unreadable as ever.

"Shisui wasn't reckless," I continued. "A man like him would have a failsafe—something he left behind in case he fell. Danzo underestimates that. Have you?"

Itachi moved. Fast.

The air split as his palm shot toward my throat, a blur of motion so quick it seemed instantaneous. Reflex took over. I pivoted smoothly, the strike grazing my neck as I parried the follow-up—a sharp elbow targeting my jaw—with my left forearm.

The impact vibrated through my bones. He was faster than anyone I had faced before.

I countered with a low sweep, aiming for his knee. Itachi shifted his weight, avoiding the strike with surgical precision. His right leg snapped forward in a fluid roundhouse kick targeting my temple. I angled my body, attempting to redirect the force with a palm strike to his ankle—but he was already faster, forcing me to leap backward.

I advanced immediately. 

His next movement was sharp—three strikes in rapid succession. A jab. An elbow. A palm thrust. I mirrored the sequence in reverse, each blow meeting its opposite. The sound of our attacks colliding echoed through the clearing.

He is testing me.

The realization clicked into place as my final strike met his. And I stopped.

The moment my fists stilled, Itachi moved again—another palm strike aimed at my chest. But I did nothing. I held my ground and let my eyes lock onto his.

His body shattered into a swarm of crows.

Genjutsu. Interesting.

I stood in the exact position I had been when we arrived, as though the fight had never happened.

"Your taijutsu is impressive," Itachi said quietly, his tone inscrutable. "Especially for a child. Your chakra control is beyond your years."

His eyes darkened further, the Sharingan whirring with a deadly stillness.

I tilted my head slightly. "I suppose it's time to get to the point," I said. "Sasuke."

A crack appeared in his mask.

His Sharingan shifted, three tomoe spinning in perfect synchronization. The warmth drained from the air as his gaze grew colder. "Do you wish to die?" he asked softly, the weight behind those words hanging like a blade.

"Not yet," I answered.

A pause. Then I continued. "I think we have a common enemy. I am Danzo's son."

A flicker—brief but potent—crossed his expression. For the first time, I glimpsed something uncalculated. A fracture in his perfect composure.

Interesting.

The red world formed in an instant.

I found myself nailed to a cross. The sky bled scarlet. Itachi stood before me—his eye seeping blood as he regarded me with that same hollow calm.

So this is his special ability i assume. Did my connection with Danzo made him wanted to hurt someone related to Danzo as an act of revenge? No. That is illogical for someone like Itachi. It was involuntary. This is the first time he uses it.

Itachi was a bit taken aback but instantly calmed himself. "What is your name?" He asks.

"Kiyotaka." 

He appeared beside me, movements languid yet precise. In his hand, a sword materialized from the air. Without a word, he pressed the blade against my chest. Slowly. Deliberately.

Pain blossomed as the sword pierced flesh—deeper—until the cold edge kissed my heart.

His voice, quiet but absolute, shattered the silence.

"Let's talk then, Kiyotaka Shimura."

Author's notes:

Sorry for the inactivity, I have a pretty tight schedule but I will try to post as often as I can. Expect more posts in weekends.