Who could be blamed for this massacre?
Were they at fault for not listening to him?
Realistically, who would obey the warnings of a mere genin-ranked medical-nin?
The higher-ups of the village had never made overtly hostile moves against the Uchiha.
Even after Uchiha Setsuna's rebellion, the matter had been quietly swept under the rug—raised high and set down light.
Even the supposed instigator had avoided any real purge.
So why would the clan take Rin's words seriously?
Why would anyone expect the Uchiha to brace for betrayal based on the warnings of one boy?
Some had even called him radical.
Advised him not to be so prejudiced against the village.
Once, he too believed Konoha would maintain its close, amicable ties with the clan.
But the events of today had ripped that illusion to shreds.
Medical ninjutsu cannot save the Uchiha.
Rin placed his hand over his heart, fingers brushing against his chest as he repeated the traditional blessing gesture from the clan gatherings.
A silent prayer to the fallen.
May they rest in peace.
And in the world beyond, may they lend their strength to his resolve.
"If someone must be blamed… maybe it's because I wasn't strong enough," he muttered.
"Maybe the Uchiha trusted the village too deeply."
"If the clan continues like this… extinction is only a matter of time."
"From this moment on, I'll reshape the Uchiha's fate—if it costs me my life."
His bloodstained face hardened, a fiery glint lighting his eyes beneath the crusted grime.
So long as the spineless Uchiha Fugaku remained in power, the clan would never rise.
The Uchiha were destined for the stars and beyond, not to be caged within the walls of a single village.
Resolute, Rin forced his battered body to move.
One by one, he began to retrieve the eyes of his fallen kin, carefully storing their Sharingan in saline jars sealed within scrolls he'd prepared long ago.
He had never expected to use them.
Not like this.
Amidst the corpses, he discovered one child who still clung to life—no older than ten.
Rin didn't abandon him.
Dragging his injured body, he carried the unconscious child to shelter once the last eye was secured.
They found refuge in a dense forest near the battlefield.
Under the dark canopy of night, Rin covered the child's forehead with a damp cloth, trying to lower the fever.
His own eyes stared blankly ahead, thoughts spiraling endlessly.
How could the Uchiha break free from this fate?
Had his arrival in this world only delayed their inevitable slaughter?
Was mere survival enough?
Such a goal…
It was pathetic.
If the system had spared him, then why not aim higher?
Why not reach for immortality itself—eternal life and boundless power?
A future where the Uchiha would never again face annihilation.
But first, the weakness of the clan had to be purged.
The pacifist faction controlling the family had to be broken.
If not, the Uchiha would become like the Eldians—those self-castrated giants who let themselves be devoured by the world.
Even after retreating to their little island, they were still hunted and hated.
To give up land was to give up the right to live.
To entrust one's life to the mercy of the enemy…
That was not Rin's way.
He would rather die on his feet than live on his knees.
Why must the lives of Uchiha shinobi be thrown away in exchange for the false peace of this decaying village?
The image of the Eldians' fate burned in his mind.
No—Rin would build a new Uchiha clan.
If the Eldians could forge an empire… why not the Uchiha?
The idea rooted itself deep in his soul.
It gave him something to cling to—something to live for.
"Make the Uchiha great again…" he whispered, eyes fixed on the glowing interface of the system.
And from those words, a plan began to take form in his mind.
Spurt!
His fragile body, already severely wounded, finally buckled.
The system may have saved his life, but with one arm gone and his body barely holding together, he was no longer fit to be a ninja.
Blood spilled from his mouth, hot and metallic.
Even with his Uchiha blood, his chakra reserves were shallow, and the strain of survival pushed him to his limit.
"I need to find other clan shinobi… Staying here is too dangerous."
Rin rested briefly, then used what little chakra remained to perform Mystical Palm Technique.
He stabilized the torn mess of his left shoulder, slowing the bleeding.
With his final reserves, he began healing the unconscious child.
"Haaah…"
"Careful… enemy attack!"
The boy stirred.
His hand grasped for a kunai out of instinct, but found only empty ground.
The cloth over him had already slipped away.
He looked up into a stranger's face.
"Who are you?"
Sweat beaded on his forehead, not just from fever, but from pain.
His entire body ached.
But even through the haze, he recognized the face—calm, unreadable, with eyes deep as shadow.
Uchiha Rin, the medical-nin from their squad.
That had to be him.
"I see you're awake."
Rin offered a gentle smile, warm and inviting, trying to ease the boy's tension.
But inside, he remained guarded.
Anyone who could survive such devastation—especially a child—had to have some secret.
Even among the Uchiha, trust was a luxury.
He scanned the boy's condition with careful eyes, calculating how to coax information out of him.
If this child showed signs of deception or danger, Rin wouldn't hesitate.
That's what the battlefield taught him: never trust blindly.
Even blood ties meant nothing when survival was on the line.
Still… the Uchiha were known for their solidarity.
On his first mission, Rin himself had been saved by a comrade's selfless act.
But he couldn't afford to risk it.
"Running a fever?"
Rin noticed the flush on the boy's cheeks and leaned forward, placing his hand gently on the child's forehead.
Scorching hot.
The boy's eyes flashed.
Two tomoe rotated in his crimson Sharingan—vigilant, wary.
"A natural talent… already has a two-tomoe Sharingan."
Rin nodded slightly.
"I'm Uchiha Rin. What's your name?"
"…Shisui. Uchiha Shisui."
The name relaxed him.
Recognition flickered in the child's eyes.
His defensive posture eased, the fear receding.
This was his first taste of war.
And all around them, their comrades were dead.
Shisui's breath was shaky.
The images from the battlefield still danced behind his eyelids—blood, fire, screaming.
"Shisui?"
Rin looked at the child with narrowed eyes.
He hadn't expected this.
So young… and yet this was the prodigy fated to become one of the clan's greatest.
From Shisui's age, Rin could roughly place the timeline.
The war—dragging on for over a decade—was nearing its end.
He studied the boy.
Sharp features, dark eyes, an innate handsomeness common to their bloodline.
A classic Uchiha.
The boy would one day awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan without guidance.
A genius worthy of comparison to Madara himself.
If trained properly, he could become a key ally.
A pillar for the future Rin envisioned.
Right now, Uchiha Fugaku—a pacifist—held the seat of clan head, placed there under the Third Hokage's quiet approval.
That needed to change.