Tonight's wind was loud.
Night fell, and Konoha wore its usual face. Yet clan heads quietly ordered their people home, and the market that should have been bustling turned oddly still.
Moonlight washed the streets. Its pale glow seemed tinged with red.
This night would not be ordinary.
Within the Uchiha compound, life moved as usual. No one appeared to sense the tautness in the air.
At the academy it was long past dismissal. Parents had taken most children home. Only one classroom still glowed.
Iruka looked at the two brothers sitting side by side and could only manage a wry smile.
Something would happen tonight. He knew enough to guess, and feared to think it through.
Amane. Sasuke.
A sudden order from the Hokage had told him to keep them at school for any reason at all. The goal was simple: do not let them go home.
No matter their clan or talent, in Iruka's eyes they were his students, two children to protect.
Knowing what the night likely held, his gaze shifted in quiet ache. Amane read it at once, and with Shisui's summon sent the signal to Fugaku.
The night of slaughter had begun.
Amane lit a cigarette in front of Iruka. The Uchiha's turning point had arrived. Once he finished this play with Itachi, he would plan the next moves.
First priority: power.
Until now he had split his focus between Itachi and Konoha. After tonight, once the Uchiha were "gone," the village's attention would drift off him. He would have time to run free, to surge, to prepare the next act of revival.
Busy days ahead.
He sighed, leaned against the sleeping Sasuke, and watched Iruka talk on, hardly hearing himself.
Among Konoha's so-called shinobi, Iruka was one of the very few Amane genuinely liked. Kind, and a teacher who did all he could.
If Naruto had had any other homeroom teacher, the boy might well have turned dark.
A great teacher.
The pity in Iruka's eyes for two children about to lose their family told Amane enough.
He smiled, nudged his glasses up, and offered Iruka the cigarette.
"Just for tonight. Share one with me."
Could he refuse? Iruka grimaced, then took it, drew, and coughed through the first bite of smoke. Then his face eased, as if the weight on him slid for a breath.
So that was it.
He glanced at Amane and smiled softly.
"Whatever comes, I will always be your teacher."
"Trust me."
…
Under the moon, a figure touched down outside the Uchiha compound.
Three tomoe revolved, and the tear-tracks on Itachi's cheeks seemed deeper. Tonight he would be a blade, not a person.
Elsewhere, a masked man with a length of chain arrived under the shroud of dark.
He moved to strike the nearest unready Uchiha, when a voice sounded behind him.
"Amitābha."
"Lay down that intent, traveler."
Killing intent and a gust of force rushed his back. Obito slid into intangibility and sprang away, cold sweat needling his spine.
Who?
He glanced back. Behind the mask, his Sharingan widened.
A shaved head, dark lenses, a monk's robe, and a plain short blade at the waist. Strange attire. Stranger still, the man wore sunglasses in the dark and moved without a slip.
More than that, he had gotten within reach without a sound.
"Who are you?"
Obito flicked the chain and narrowed his eye.
Tonight the Uchiha name would be erased. He bore no private grudge against them, but adding blood to his hands cost him nothing. Afterward, Itachi would join the Akatsuki. That was the price of Obito's help. He valued Itachi's skill and his ruthlessness. Even he had not considered killing every last Uchiha.
Akatsuki were all madmen. He was too.
He had expected an easy start. Instead, a wall.
He studied the monk again. Behind the lenses, a red glint stirred.
Sharingan.
No mistaking it.
Since when did the Uchiha have this man?
"Are you truly Uchiha Madara?"
Shisui did not answer the question. He asked his own.
"So someone still recognizes me."
Playing God with Madara's name had become habitual. Even his tone mimicked the ghost.
"You have some nerve."
Shisui's mouth twisted. "I have never met Madara, our former clan head, but his record says enough. If he were the genuine article, even aged, he would not hide behind a mask."
"The strong keep their pride. I do not feel any in you."
Plain words, plain truth.
In Obito's ear, they stabbed. This brat was saying he was not strong.
The tomoe spun, snapped, and bled into a Mangekyō.
His body blurred. In a heartbeat he was on Shisui, chain whistling for the kill.
Shisui vanished.
SWISH!
Steel thrust for Obito's spine. He had already ghosted, slipping into his personal space.
"Rattled by a few words."
Shisui touched his chin. "Space-time ninjutsu. Then your identity is certain."
"Six years ago, you unleashed the Nine Tails on Konoha, didn't you?"
"You triggered the calamity and left the Uchiha to take the blame. Now you want to butcher our people."
He drew breath, and behind the lenses his Mangekyō turned.
The short blade leveled at Obito from a blade-length away.
"You who pinned false sin on Uchiha."
"Tonight."
"I am your opponent."