Looking at Itachi's back as he left, Obito fell silent for a moment.
So… he's truly desperate…
Obito's mind replayed the events he remembered from the anime.
If Itachi didn't slaughter the Uchiha clan himself, Danzo would. And if that happened, Sasuke would never survive.
What Itachi had said..."there's no other way" wasn't just empty words. He knew he couldn't eliminate the Uchiha clan in a short time by himself. If he asked for Konoha's "help," the ones who would act were Danzo's Root, not the Third Hokage's people.
After all, Hiruzen Sarutobi was the "light of Konoha."
And the massacre of an entire clan… that kind of dirty work naturally fell to Danzo, the "darkness" of the village.
But after what happened with Shisui, Itachi no longer dared to trust him.
So, giving Sasuke over to Konoha was part of the deal, but Itachi also prepared his own countermeasure, using the hidden secrets of Konoha to keep Danzo in check, forcing him not to touch Sasuke.
In other words… why did Uchiha Obito in the anime agree to Itachi's conditions at all?
Obito's lips curved into a thin smile as the answer came to him.
The one-eyed Obito from the anime simply feared Itachi. He couldn't defeat him, so he complied...accepting the demand not to strike at Konoha.
But the Obito of this world was different. His eyes had evolved into the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, and with the body of a Sage, crushing Itachi would be child's play.
Naturally, he had no intention of agreeing to such outrageous conditions.
At most, he'd leave Sasuke alone. That was fine anyway...he had no desire to interfere with Indra's reincarnation until he was truly prepared. Convenient, really.
That night, a full moon hung high in the heavens, its pale glow spilling across Konoha.
Within the Uchiha district, silence blanketed the streets. Not a single light flickered.
"…Time to move."
Itachi's figure slipped into the residential quarters, his face unreadable.
Far behind, Obito stood at the edge of the district, his Sharingan gleaming behind the mask.
"And what's this? Root operatives hiding in the shadows…" he chuckled softly, watching the faint traces of chakra he could sense around the perimeter. Then he turned away.
His path led not to the homes, but to the Uchiha Police Force headquarters.
The massacre… had begun.
--
"Who are you?!"
Inside the Uchiha Police Force building, dozens of clan members stared wide-eyed at the masked intruder who had appeared without a sound.
Shock filled their faces but strangely, no fear.
"Ahhhh!"
Screams rang out one after another. In the blink of an eye, figures collapsed to the floor, shadows swallowing them whole.
Time blurred. Darkness consumed the once-bright hall. Silence reigned where there had been shouts only moments before.
And in that silence, Obito stood calmly among the fallen. He hadn't killed them—not yet. Instead, their unconscious bodies were swallowed into the Devouring Coffin.
With that, the last of the Uchiha Police Force was gone.
Obito stepped outside, the night air brushing against him as he pushed open the massive doors. His task here was finished; it was time to move on.
But...
"Th-thunk! Th-thunk! Th-thunk!"
A volley of shuriken whizzed past, piercing through his body and embedding themselves into the wooden pillar behind him. They passed through him as though he were nothing but mist.
Obito turned his head slowly.
Not far away stood a girl—barely twelve or thirteen. A kunai trembled in her hand, but her eyes… her eyes burned. A pair of scarlet orbs with three tomoe locked onto him, unwavering despite the fear in her expression.
"Oh? Good eyes."
Obito's brow arched. For someone so young to already awaken the full Three Tomoe Sharingan… her talent was undeniable.
And then he was gone.
"—Bang!"
In an instant, he appeared before her, his fist slamming mercilessly into her stomach.
"Gah—!"
The kunai slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground. Her body folded forward as the air burst from her lungs, her throat convulsing as bile rose up. Her eyes bulged, mouth gaping, as vomit spilled out between gasps of pain.
Before she could even fall, a gloved hand caught her by the throat, hoisting her into the air like a ragdoll.
"Uuugh—!"
Her legs kicked frantically, her nails clawed at his wrist, but Obito's gaze was cold and held no pity for her in them.
He was about to cast her into the Devouring Coffin when a single, trembling whisper reached his ears.
"…Itachi… help me…"
Obito froze.
Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, her voice cracked with terror, but the name she called shook him enough to pause. He studied her face more carefully and then recognition clicked.
"So… it's you."
"…Izumi Uchiha."
Obito's Sharingan gleamed as he finally recognized the girl dangling in his grip.
He tilted his head, lips curling into a cold laugh.
"Hehe… interesting. You actually called for Itachi to save you."
He drew her closer, letting her see the swirling tomoe behind his mask. His voice was filled with fake surprise.
"Girl, do you even know what your beloved Itachi is doing right now?"
"I-I…"
Her trembling voice faltered under his gaze. The crimson eyes staring back at her seemed to strip away her courage.
Obito chuckled darkly.
"Let me show you."
And with that, the world warped. The girl's scream was swallowed into nothing as Obito vanished with her in tow.
When they reappeared, they stood on the rooftops overlooking the Uchiha district.
Down below, Uchiha Itachi moved like a ghost, blade in hand. He slipped from house to house, cutting down his clansmen without hesitation.
Blood pooled on the streets. Corpses slumped against doors. The stench of iron filled the night air.
And through it all, Itachi's eyes held no warmth, no hesitation—only cold, merciless killing intent.
Izumi's eyes widened as she watched. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the boy she adored drive a blade through a child's chest.
"Mmmphh—!"
Obito's gloved hand clamped over her mouth as he bent close, his whisper brushing against her ear like poison.
"Look. That's your Itachi… the one you put your faith in. Do you still think he'll save you?"
"Woo…!"
Izumi shook her head wildly, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her whole body trembled as the weight of betrayal, fear, and heartbreak crushed her.
Shock. Anger. Sadness. Despair.
Her three tomoe spun frantically in her eyes, the scarlet whirling faster and faster
Obito's gaze changed, watching intently. His heart stirred with anticipation.
'Come on… awaken. Show me the eyes of despair. The Mangekyō…'
But the moment never came.
The tomoe slowed… and then stopped. The light in her eyes dimmed, fading into hollow emptiness.
Her tears still fell, but her voice was gone. No screams, no struggle. Just silent weeping.
"…Tch."
Obito released her neck, letting her slump weakly in his grip. His expression twisted with disappointment.
"What a pity. I thought I could harvest a new pair of Mangekyō from you."
He sighed, shaking his head.
"Thirteen years old, already awakened three tomoe… your talent is excellent. Better than most of your pathetic clan."
His Sharingan gleamed faintly as he muttered, more to himself than her:
"And yet… even watching this, even staring at betrayal with your own eyes… still not enough."
So what is the real reason, then…
Obito's eyes narrowed as he watched the distant figure of Uchiha Itachi, blade flashing under the moonlight.
Could it be… because it was Itachi himself who struck her heart?
If that was the case, Obito could only sigh inwardly.
The women in this world… their hearts really are ruled by love.
His gaze shifted back to the girl in his grip. He was about to snap her neck when a thought slithered into his mind.
Slowly, his eyes moved from Itachi… back to Izumi. The corner of his mouth curled upward. A sly, playful smile stretched across his masked face.
If any woman who knew him had seen that smile, they would have realized instantly—Obito was hatching something vile again.
With a low chuckle, he cast a genjutsu over the girl, sinking her into deep unconsciousness. Her small body went limp in his arms. Without hesitation, he swept her into the swirling void of his Kamui space.
Itachi… I'll leave you a surprise. When the day comes, I hope you enjoy it.
The thought alone amused him.
Then, with a step, he vanished from the rooftop.
That night, the Uchiha district was drowned in blood. Under the moonlight, the pools of scarlet reflected back like rivers of hellfire, as if the heavens themselves wept crimson.
When Obito raised his eyes, he saw it clearly: the pale moon above, stained red by the carnage below. A blood moon, hanging proudly over the ruins of a clan.
He stood atop a roof, bathed in its glow, waiting in silence.
The Uchiha clan of Konoha would turn to dust tonight, disappearing into the pages of history.
However, this would not be the true end of the Uchiha.
From the ashes, a new clan would rise—
an Uchiha clan born under his will.
A clan of Sharingan users who would exist only for him… and be loyal only to him.
--
Minutes passed. Then he heard the sound of footsteps.
A figure emerged behind him.
"…It's over."
Itachi's voice trembled faintly, though he quickly masked it with his usual coldness.
Obito turned his head, his Sharingan gleaming in the dark. "Then let's go."
"You go first," Itachi answered quietly. "I still have words to leave with the elders of Konoha."
Obito didn't argue. He only left a parting sentence, his voice echoing...
"I'll be waiting outside the village."
The air distorted around him, and he vanished into Kamui's vortex.
What Itachi didn't know… was that the massacre he had "completed" was not what it seemed.
Beneath the patriarch's residence, deep in the shadows, White Zetsu dragged two bodies through the underground tunnels.
One was Uchiha Fugaku—his chest pierced, life extinguished.
The other… Uchiha Mikoto. Still alive. Still breathing, though unconscious.
The corpses that Itachi thought he struck down? One had indeed been Fugaku. But the "Mikoto" who died under his blade had not been her at all only White Zetsu, disguised perfectly in her form.
This… was the second surprise Obito had prepared.
A secret that would one day shatter Sasuke's world and Itachi's, far more than the massacre itself.
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