Dawn came to the Uchiha compound in a thin, pale hush, as though the village itself had forgotten how to breathe. Mist clung to the blood-slick courtyards, softening the edges of shattered lanterns and scattered shuriken.
Inside the main house, Soji remained kneeling beside his parents' futons. His fingers, stained and trembling, rested lightly on his mother's closed eyes. The single tomoe still faintly spun in his left eye, glowing like an ember refusing to die.
When the ANBU finally entered, they paused at the threshold. For a long, uncertain moment, no one moved. Even behind their blank masks, they seemed hesitant, as if stepping into a sacred place they did not deserve to enter.
Soji did not look at them. He stayed still, as though carved from the same silence that had swallowed the compound whole.
---
Then, quiet footsteps — heavier, deliberate — approached.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stepped inside, his Hokage hat absent, head bowed low. Deep lines clawed down his face, and his eyes, once gentle and bright, looked brittle and sunken in the gray morning light.
He stopped just inside the room, staring at the two still forms before slowly lowering himself to his knees across from Soji.
For a time, neither of them spoke. Only the soft rustle of the mist outside, and the distant, hesitant chirp of a lone morning bird dared to interrupt.
"Soji…" Hiruzen finally began, his voice rough and unsteady. "I have no words to give that can undo this pain. I was supposed to protect you… and I failed."
Soji did not raise his head immediately. When he did, his eyes met Hiruzen's directly — unflinching, but not cruel.
"I know," Soji said quietly.
The simplicity of the words cut deeper than any blade.
Hiruzen's shoulders sagged, his hands curling into old, shaking fists against his knees.
"You have every right to hate me," Hiruzen whispered, voice breaking under the weight of each syllable.
Soji's eyes softened, the single tomoe slowing to a gentle, mournful stillness.
"I do not intend to hate," he said. His voice was low but unwavering, each word chosen with deliberate care. "Hatred only plants the seeds for another night like this. Another boy will stand where I stand, another family will vanish into blood and silence. The cycle must end."
Hiruzen's breath hitched. His jaw trembled as he struggled to find words, but none came.
After a long moment, Soji bowed his head — not as a subordinate, but as an equal offering a final, private respect.
Hiruzen's hand reached forward, as though to comfort, but faltered and fell uselessly back to his lap.
"I would offer you my protection," Hiruzen managed at last, voice hoarse and small. "You should not have to face this alone."
Soji's lips curved into the faintest, saddest smile.
"Thank you, Lord Hokage… but I am not as alone as you might think. And for now… I prefer to remain as I am."
Hiruzen froze, his eyes widening slightly — realization dawning quietly behind the sorrow. Then, slowly, he lowered his head in a deep, trembling bow.
When he rose, his movements were careful and reverent, as though afraid to fracture what fragile peace hung between them. He stood, hesitated once at the doorway, and then stepped out into the pale morning mist without another word.
---
Soji remained kneeling, his hands still resting lightly atop his parents' hands.
I will not only break the cycle, he thought. I will dismantle the system that feeds it. But that step… must wait.
His fingers curled slightly, knuckles pale and taut.
I have no need for vengeance. I have something far more dangerous to offer this world: a future.
Outside, the compound began to stir with hushed movements — ANBU shifting quietly through blood and ruin, the faint clatter of metal, the sweep of cloth against wood. But in that small, half-lit room, all remained still.
Soji closed his eyes and lowered his head once more, listening to the thin, tentative breath of the new day slip through the shattered halls.
Above, the sun crested the village walls, pale and cold as a blade, casting long, silent shadows across the remains of the Uchiha.