Land of Fire – Konoha Village
The sun sank toward the horizon, spilling fiery streaks of crimson and gold across the evening sky. Shadows lengthened over the Hidden Leaf, draping the village in a dusky veil.
Inside the Uchiha district, an oppressive stillness gripped the air. It was not the calm of peace, but the tense quiet before a storm—a familiar, uneasy presence that had lingered here for months.
Traditional wooden houses lined the narrow streets, their darkened windows swallowing the day's last light. In a central courtyard, an ancient cherry blossom tree stood unmoving save for the occasional drift of pale petals carried by the cool evening breeze.
The clan had suffered a blow from which it had not recovered. Only a few months earlier, Shisui Uchiha—Shisui of the Body Flicker, the clan's swiftest and most gifted shinobi—had died under mysterious circumstances. His loss left more than grief; it planted a seed of suspicion that grew with each passing day. Whispers spread through the village, questioning the truth behind his demise.
Now, atop the Hokage Tower, Sarutobi Hiruzen stood against the fading light. The weight of decades sat heavily on his shoulders, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if it might hold the answers he sought.
Before him knelt Uchiha Itachi, clad in the stark armor and porcelain mask of the Anbu. His posture was perfect, and his presence controlled—yet the stillness in his dark eyes held a quiet gravity.
"Have you decided, Itachi?" Hiruzen's voice was steady, though it softened slightly as his gaze met the young man's.
Itachi lifted his head just enough to meet the Hokage's eyes. "Yes. And… you are aware of my final request?" His words carried the weight of an irreversible choice. After a brief pause, he bowed his head again, the gesture giving nothing away of the turmoil buried beneath his calm exterior.
"The Uchiha clan…" Hiruzen exhaled slowly. "It's a pity. If only I had been able to prevent this. If only I had acted sooner…"
The silence that followed was heavy with resignation. In the end, the Hokage accepted the proposal—Itachi would be the one to deal with his clan.
The rift had grown too deep. Years of mistrust and resentment had hardened into something beyond negotiation.
Much of it stemmed from long-standing wounds. Fugaku Uchiha, the clan head, had been a hero of the last Shinobi War, yet his name was never seriously considered for Hokage. When the title had been discussed, only Orochimaru's was mentioned. The slight was not forgotten.
Then came the Nine-Tails' attack, a disaster that cast an even darker shadow on the Uchiha. The event deepened their alienation from the village, adding another layer to the insult that had been dealt to their leader.
Hiruzen had no desire to see the Uchiha clan erased from Konoha's ranks. They were, after all, one of the village's greatest fighting forces.
And yet—how seriously had he ever truly regarded them?
Despite his fear of civil war, the Hokage had never once sat face-to-face with Fugaku Uchiha to negotiate. Perhaps it was intentional. An official meeting could grant Fugaku the very legitimacy he sought in his quiet bid for the title of Hokage. Worse, it might embolden the clan to demand answers: "If you've acknowledged him, then why not name him as your successor?"
That was something Hiruzen would never allow. Unlike Minato, Fugaku had no personal bond with the Third Hokage. He would not be a pliable leader—he would not continue Hiruzen's vision for the village. Instead, he might turn the office of Hokage into a tool to empower his clan above all else. And did Fugaku even believe in the Will of Fire, or would he serve only the Uchiha?
Danzo's counsel only deepened the rift. To him, the Uchiha were the single greatest threat to the village's security. He often warned Hiruzen against speaking with any of them, insisting that even conversation carried risks. The Sharingan was too dangerous, its genjutsu too insidious.
Hiruzen trusted Shisui, and he knew the boy's exceptional power—but even that trust was tinged with unease. A Sharingan that could manipulate someone without them ever realizing it was a weapon that could turn the village's own leaders into pawns.
Years earlier, after the war, Hiruzen had resigned, a gesture meant to soothe the outrage his missteps had caused. It was a calculated act, shifting blame onto himself while crafting an image of humility. His choice for Fourth Hokage had been Minato Namikaze—a young man he had personally trained, someone he believed could be guided from the shadows.
But the Nine-Tails' attack had changed everything. Rumors, seeded with Danzo's help, whispered that the beast had been controlled by a Sharingan. Public resentment toward the Uchiha swelled. Their funding was cut; they were pushed to the village's outskirts.
Shisui was quietly pulled from regular duties, working in secret to ease tensions. Before he could succeed, Danzo intervened—killing him to ensure the conflict could not be resolved peacefully.
The solution they now pursued was darker still: an Uchiha had to be the one to eliminate the clan. In Itachi, they saw the perfect instrument. Step by step, he was maneuvered into a position where the only path to preventing open war was the eradication of his own people.
If a loyal shinobi of the Hokage ordered the massacre, the other clans might fear they were next. But if an Uchiha slaughtered his kin in a fit of madness, the act could be dismissed as an internal tragedy. For the plan to work, no survivors could remain—no chance for witnesses to suggest it had been a calculated operation.
A villain was needed. That villain would be Uchiha Itachi. Officially, of course, Hiruzen would have nothing to do with it.
The Hokage's face was solemn as he acknowledged the decision's weight. Few could bear the burden of killing their own kin for the sake of the village's peace.
"Itachi," Hiruzen said quietly, "you are making a great sacrifice. You will carry this decision for the rest of your life. But… do not worry. As long as I draw breath, your brother will be safe. I swear it."
Itachi inclined his head, accepting the vow without a word. He reached for his porcelain mask, fixed it into place, and with a flicker of movement, vanished from the Hokage's office into the gathering night.