The Hokage's office smelled of pipe tobacco and old paper, scents that spoke of decades of decisions made in this room. Some wise. Some necessary. Some that would haunt their makers until death and beyond.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk, feeling every one of his sixty-eight years as weight rather than wisdom. Before him sat his advisors — Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, both ancient as the village itself, their faces carved into permanent expressions of pragmatic concern. And Danzo Shimura, standing slightly apart, his bandaged arm and covered eye giving him the appearance of a war monument given life.
"The intelligence is confirmed," Homura said, his voice carrying the dry rasp of someone who'd spoken too many uncomfortable truths. "The Uchiha will move within two weeks. Perhaps sooner. Fugaku has finalized his strategy. Key positions identified. Police Force positioned throughout the village under the guise of heightened security."
"It's elegant, in its way," Koharu admitted, her tone clinical. "They've positioned themselves perfectly. When they move, they'll have simultaneous control of strategic locations before we can mount effective resistance."
Hiruzen drew on his pipe, the smoke curling toward the ceiling like prayers that would go unanswered. "And our options?"
"Limited." Danzo's voice was flat, emotionless. "We can wait for them to move and crush the rebellion — resulting in civil war, heavy casualties on both sides, and vulnerability to external attack. Or we can act pre-emptively."
The word hung in the air like an executioner's blade.
"Pre-emptively," Hiruzen repeated, his voice heavy. "You mean eliminate them before they can rebel."
"I mean eliminate the leadership," Danzo corrected. "Fugaku. The coup planners. The militants. Surgical removal of the elements driving rebellion. The younger generation, the children, the moderates — they can be integrated. Reeducated. The Uchiha bloodline preserved, but the threat neutralized."
"You're talking about assassinating a significant portion of one of Konoha's founding clans." Homura's tone suggested he was playing devil's advocate rather than objecting.
"I'm talking about saving thousands of lives." Danzo moved to the window, looking out over the village. "If the coup happens, civil war erupts. Our enemies will see weakness and strike. The Land of Lightning. The Land of Earth. They'll pour forces into Fire Country while we're tearing ourselves apart. Konoha will fall. The Will of Fire will be extinguished. All because we lacked the resolve to make one terrible choice."
Hiruzen closed his eyes, and in the darkness behind his lids, he saw faces. Tobirama, his teacher, who'd warned him about the Uchiha's nature. The Second Hokage had called them a clan cursed by their own power, their love too deep and their hatred too strong. Had tried to bridge the gap through integration and oversight.
Had failed, ultimately. And now that failure had metastasized into this moment.
"How many?" Hiruzen asked quietly. "How many would have to die?"
"Approximately sixty percent of the active shinobi population of the clan," Danzo said without hesitation. "The remainder are children, elderly, or civilians. Collateral damage should be minimal if the operation is executed with precision."
Collateral damage, Hiruzen thought with bitter irony. As if families aren't collateral. As if children losing their parents is acceptable if it's done efficiently.
"There's another consideration," Koharu said, her voice careful. "The Sharingan. If we allow ROOT to handle this operation, those eyes will be... collected. Danzo has already acquired one Mangekyo from Shisui Uchiha—"
"Which was necessary to prevent him from using it to control Konoha's leadership," Danzo interjected smoothly.
"—and the opportunity to secure more would be strategically valuable," Koharu finished.
Hiruzen's hands clenched on his pipe. "You're talking about harvesting eyes like they're resources rather than pieces of people."
"They are resources," Danzo said flatly. "The Sharingan is power. Power that in the wrong hands threatens the village. Power that in the right hands protects it. Sentiment doesn't change that calculation."
The room fell into heavy silence. Outside, Konoha went about its day — children attending Academy classes, merchants selling their wares, shinobi training for missions. All of them blissfully unaware that in this room, their Hokage was contemplating genocide disguised as necessity.
"There may be an alternative," Hiruzen said finally. "A way to minimize casualties and preserve some measure of honor in this horror."
"Itachi," Danzo said, and it wasn't a question.
"He knows the compound. Knows the clan's capabilities. Knows where the children are, where the non-combatants sleep." Hiruzen's voice was hollow. "If this must be done, it should be done by someone who will discriminate between threats and innocents. Someone who will spare those who can be spared."
"Someone who will be bound by guilt into eternal service," Danzo added, his tone carrying dark approval. "A leash made of blood and remorse. Effective."
Hiruzen wanted to object, to say that wasn't his intention. But wasn't it? Itachi performing the massacre would eliminate the Uchiha threat and ensure Konoha's most powerful young shinobi remained loyal through the weight of his crime. It was pragmatic. Strategic.
Monstrous.
"Summon him," Hiruzen said, the words tasting like ash.
Itachi Uchiha entered the Hokage's office with the quiet grace that characterized all his movements. His ANBU mask hung from his belt, his face carefully neutral, but his Mangekyo Sharingan — hidden beneath normal vision — saw everything. The tension in Hiruzen's shoulders. Danzo's satisfaction barely concealed. The advisors' clinical distance.
This is it, Itachi realized. The moment I've been dreading.
"Itachi," Hiruzen began, and his voice carried genuine regret. That somehow made it worse. "Thank you for coming. Please, sit."
Itachi remained standing. "If it's all the same, Hokage-sama, I'll stand."
Better to receive terrible orders on my feet. Better to face this with what little dignity remains.
Hiruzen sighed, suddenly looking ancient. "Very well. I'll be direct. The Uchiha coup is imminent. Within days, perhaps a week at most. When they move, civil war will erupt. Thousands will die. Konoha will be vulnerable to external attack. The village will fall."
Itachi said nothing, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"We have two options," Hiruzen continued. "Wait for the coup and crush it through military force, or act pre-emptively to neutralize the threat before it manifests. Both options result in Uchiha deaths. The question is one of scale and control."
"You're asking me to choose," Itachi said quietly.
"I'm asking you to help us choose the path that results in the fewest casualties overall." Hiruzen's hands folded on his desk. "A surgical strike against the coup's leadership, performed with precision and discrimination, would spare the innocents. The children. The elderly. Those not involved in the rebellion."
The words weren't stated outright, but Itachi understood. They were asking him to kill his clan. His family. His father.
Shisui, Itachi thought desperately. You said I was clever enough to find a way. But there is no way. Only terrible choices and the question of which terrible choice is least terrible.
His mind raced through calculations he'd run a thousand times before. If the coup happened: civil war. The Uchiha would take initial control, but ANBU would counterattack. The battle would spill into civilian districts. Other villages would see the chaos and invade. Thousands dead. Konoha potentially destroyed. Sasuke growing up in a world at war, if he survived at all.
If the pre-emptive strike happened: The coup leaders dead. The clan devastated but not extinct. The village stable. Sasuke growing up in peace, protected, safe. Hated by no one because the Uchiha's attempted coup would never manifest. Just the tragic victim of his brother's inexplicable madness.
The mathematics were brutal. But they pointed to one conclusion.
I'm sorry, Father. Mother. Shisui. But I choose Sasuke. I choose peace. I choose the future over the past.
"If I do this," Itachi said, his voice steady despite his fracturing soul, "I have conditions."
"Name them." Hiruzen leaned forward, relief and horror mixing in his expression.
"Sasuke is spared. Protected. Given a story that makes sense to him, one that doesn't make him hate the village or the clan. One that..." Itachi swallowed. "One that gives meaning to the tragedy. Not truth, perhaps. But meaning."
"Agreed." Hiruzen's response was immediate.
"The children under eight years old are spared if possible. The elderly who aren't actively planning the coup. Anyone who isn't a direct threat." Itachi's hands clenched. "If this is necessary, it should be surgical. Precise. Not a massacre."
"That's our hope as well," Hiruzen said.
"And Danzo—" Itachi's gaze shifted to the elder, cold and sharp. "—stays away from Sasuke. Forever. No recruitment. No manipulation. No ROOT. My brother lives a normal life, or this agreement is void."
Danzo's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his visible eye. "Acceptable."
He's lying, Itachi knew. The moment I'm gone or dead, he'll move on Sasuke. But by then, hopefully Sasuke will be strong enough to resist. Will have allies. Will have options I can't give him now.
"When?" Itachi asked.
"Soon." Hiruzen looked like he'd aged another decade in the conversation. "The coup is planned for six days from now. We move the night before. You'll have support—"
"No." Itachi's voice was firm. "I do this alone. Or I don't do it at all. I won't have ROOT operatives collecting Sharingan like trophies. I won't have this become an opportunity for resource gathering. If my clan must die, they die with dignity."
He stared at Danzo as he said it, and the challenge was clear.
Danzo's jaw tightened. "Itachi—"
"Those are my terms," Itachi interrupted. "Non-negotiable."
"There will be assistance," Danzo said carefully. "Someone to help manage the scope of the operation. But your concerns about... collection... will be respected."
Another lie, Itachi thought. But I'll deal with that when it comes.
"Then we have an agreement." Itachi's voice was hollow. "Five days from now. I'll eliminate the Uchiha coup before it begins. Spare those who can be spared. And ensure my brother survives to hate me for it."
The last part wasn't in the original terms, but it was the truth. Sasuke would need someone to hate. Something to drive him. And Itachi would give him that, would craft a lie so perfect that his brother would spend years pursuing revenge against a traitor who'd never existed.
It was the last gift he could give. The last protection.
"Dismissed," Hiruzen said, and he couldn't meet Itachi's eyes.
Itachi left the office, his footsteps silent on the wooden floors, his body moving on autopilot while his mind fractured into a thousand pieces, each one screaming in different directions.
This is duty, he told himself. This is sacrifice. This is what Shisui died for — preventing wider war. Protecting the village. Ensuring the future.
This is murder, whispered another part of him. This is betrayal. This is breaking every bond that makes you human.
Both were true. Both would be true forever.
And in five days, Itachi Uchiha would become the monster his brother would spend a lifetime trying to kill.
For peace.
For Sasuke.
For a village that would never know what he'd sacrificed to save it.
[Danzo's Perspective]
Danzo watched Itachi leave, his expression neutral, his mind already calculating the opportunities this presented.
Perfect, he thought with cold satisfaction. Absolutely perfect.
The Uchiha would be eliminated — the greatest threat to Konoha's stability removed in one decisive action. Itachi would be bound by guilt into eternal service, his power forever pointed in Konoha's defense because the alternative was facing what he'd become. And eventually, when Itachi's usefulness ended, his eyes would join Shisui's in Danzo's collection.
The boy thinks he's negotiating protections for his clan, Danzo mused. Thinks he can control the outcome through precision and surgical strikes. He doesn't understand that once the killing starts, it takes on momentum of its own.
The Uchiha compound would burn. The Sharingan eyes would be collected — not by Itachi's hand perhaps, but by those who followed in his wake. And the younger generation, the children Itachi thought he was saving, would grow up orphaned and dependent on Konoha's mercy.
Particularly Sasuke. The last loyal Uchiha. A perfect vessel for future control.
Itachi thinks he's protecting his brother, Danzo thought. But he's just making him more valuable. More moldable. And when the time comes, when Itachi is gone and Sasuke is alone, ROOT will be waiting.
"You disagree with this plan," Hiruzen said after a long silence, reading Danzo's expression incorrectly.
"On the contrary," Danzo replied. "I think it's the best of terrible options. Itachi will do what must be done, and the village will be saved. Though I suspect he'll need... assistance... ensuring the operation is complete."
"I gave him my word—"
"You gave him hope," Danzo interrupted. "A lie wrapped in permissions. But hope doesn't eliminate threats. Resolve does. And when Itachi hesitates, when his love for his clan makes him weak, someone will need to ensure the mission completes."
Hiruzen's expression darkened. "Danzo—"
"I will respect your orders, Hokage-sama." Danzo's tone was perfectly respectful, perfectly false. "But I will also ensure Konoha's survival. That is what you wanted, isn't it? When you summoned Itachi? When you gave him this impossible task?"
The Hokage looked away, unable to answer. Because they both knew the truth — Hiruzen wanted the Uchiha eliminated, wanted the threat removed, but wanted to keep his hands clean. Wanted to be the merciful Hokage who'd had no choice.
Cowardice wrapped in necessity, Danzo thought with contempt. At least I'm honest about what I am.
"The operation proceeds in five days," Hiruzen said finally. "And Danzo? Stay away from Sasuke. I meant that."
"Of course, Hokage-sama." Danzo bowed slightly. "I would never dream of interfering with your orders."
He left the office with quiet satisfaction, already planning how to position ROOT forces to maximize Sharingan collection without technically violating Itachi's terms. Already calculating how to turn this tragedy into opportunity.
The Uchiha would die.
Their eyes would be harvested.
And Konoha would be stronger for it.
All it cost was one boy's soul and a clan's existence.
Acceptable, Danzo decided. More than acceptable. Necessary.
[Keisuke's Perspective]
The training ground behind the Uchiha compound was filled with young voices and the crack of shuriken hitting wooden targets. Keisuke stood in the center, his three-tomoe Sharingan active, observing and correcting the techniques of a dozen younger clan members.
"Izumi, your wrist rotation is off," he called out. "You're telegraphing the throw. Use your Sharingan to predict the target's movement, then adjust mid-throw."
Izumi Uchiha — fifteen years old, talented, and carrying feelings for Itachi that everyone but Itachi himself seemed to notice — nodded and adjusted her stance. Her next throw was perfect, the shuriken embedding dead-center in the target.
"Better," Keisuke approved. "Remember, the Sharingan isn't just for reading enemy movements. It's for perfecting your own."
Around him, the younger Uchiha trained with enthusiasm born of hope. They were excited about the coming changes. Believed that soon, the clan would finally receive the recognition they'd earned. That the isolation would end. That being Uchiha would be a point of pride rather than suspicion.
They have no idea, Keisuke thought, watching them. No idea how much blood their dreams will cost. How many of them might not survive what's coming.
"Keisuke-san?" A boy named Teyaki approached, perhaps thirteen years old, his Sharingan newly awakened. "Is it true? That we're going to change things? That the Hokage will finally respect the Uchiha?"
"Change is coming," Keisuke said carefully. "Whether it's the change we hope for..." He trailed off.
"My father says we're strong enough to make them respect us," another voice called out — Tekka's son, carrying his father's fire. "Says the Sharingan makes us powerful, and powerful people don't ask for permission."
"Power without wisdom is just violence," Keisuke said, but the words felt hollow even as he spoke them. Aren't I preparing for violence myself? Aren't I standing with the coup despite knowing how it might end?
Izumi moved to stand beside him, her expression thoughtful. "Itachi-san hasn't been training with us lately. Is he... Is he alright?"
No, Keisuke thought. He's breaking apart piece by piece, and I don't know how to help him because we're on opposite sides now.
"Itachi has his own path," Keisuke said instead. "We all do."
The training continued until evening, when mothers called their children home for dinner and the training ground emptied. Keisuke remained, sitting beneath the tree where he'd once sparred with Shisui and Itachi, feeling the weight of what was coming settle on his shoulders like armor.
Five days, he thought, though he didn't know why that number felt significant. Something's going to break in five days. I can feel it.
He walked home through the compound, noting the increased patrols, the way families spoke in hushed voices behind closed doors. The air was thick with anticipation and fear, a community standing on the edge of something they couldn't fully see.
His mother was waiting when he arrived home, sitting in the garden despite the cooling evening air.
"If it comes to war," she asked without preamble, her eyes fixed on the herbs she was tending, "will you be ready?"
Keisuke sat beside her, feeling the weight of the question. Ready for war. Ready to fight. Ready to kill people he'd grown up alongside, trained beside, protected.
Ready to possibly face Itachi across a battlefield.
"I'll protect our family," Keisuke said, the words feeling like both promise and curse. "No matter what. Whatever comes, I'll protect the Uchiha. The children. The elders. Everyone who trusts me to keep them safe."
His mother's hands stilled in their work. "Good," she said softly. "Because I don't think we have much time left. I can feel it. Change is coming, and it's not the kind the younger generation dreams about."
She stood, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and went inside.
Keisuke remained in the garden, watching the stars appear one by one in the darkening sky. Somewhere out there, Itachi was facing his own impossible choices. Making his own terrible decisions.
And in five days, those decisions would collide with Keisuke's, and everything would burn.
[Parallel Scene — Itachi]
Itachi arrived home as the sun set, his body moving through familiar motions while his mind remained trapped in the Hokage's office, in the moment he'd agreed to murder his clan.
The Uchiha compound looked peaceful in the dying light. Children played in the streets. Families gathered for dinner. Life continuing, unaware that its architect had just signed its death warrant.
"Nii-san!"
Sasuke's voice cut through his spiral, and Itachi turned to find his little brother in the yard, surrounded by shuriken that had all missed their targets. Sasuke's face was flushed with effort and frustration, but his eyes lit up when he saw Itachi.
"Watch me!" Sasuke demanded, picking up another shuriken. "I've been practicing!"
Itachi moved to stand beside the targets, his heart fragmenting with every step. Five more days, he thought. Five more days to memorize his smile. His voice. The way he throws with his entire body because he hasn't learned economy of motion yet.
Sasuke threw. The shuriken went wide, missing the target by a meter.
"I'll get it next time!" Sasuke declared, undaunted.
No you won't, Itachi thought with devastating clarity. In five days, there won't be a next time. There won't be training sessions or proud displays or quiet moments in the yard. There will only be you and the bodies of everyone who loved you, and the brother who killed them standing over you with blood on his hands.
"You need more practice," Itachi heard himself say, the words automatic.
Sasuke's face fell, disappointment clear. "Will you help me? Please? Just a little bit?"
Yes, everything in Itachi screamed. Yes, I'll help you. I'll do anything for you. That's why I'm doing this. That's why I'm becoming a monster.
But he couldn't. If he stayed, if he helped, if he allowed himself one more moment of being a brother instead of a weapon, he might break entirely.
Itachi's hand moved to Sasuke's forehead, two fingers extending to tap gently above his brother's eyes. The gesture was familiar, affectionate, and in five days it would be the last kindness Sasuke would remember before everything ended.
"Forgive me, Sasuke," Itachi said, and the words carried meanings his brother couldn't understand. "Next time."
There won't be a next time, the truth whispered. But you'll spend your life believing there should have been. And that belief, that hatred, will make you strong. Will keep you safe. Will ensure you survive what I'm about to do.
Sasuke nodded, accepting the promise, and ran back inside to pester their mother for dinner.
Itachi stood alone in the yard, surrounded by shuriken that had missed their targets, feeling tears he couldn't afford to shed burning behind his eyes.
I'm sorry, he thought to Sasuke, to his parents, to his clan, to Shisui's memory. I'm sorry, but I choose you. I choose your future over our past. I choose peace over justice and survival over honor.
I choose to become the monster you'll spend your life trying to kill.
Because that's what love means.
The sun set completely, plunging the compound into darkness.
And somewhere in that darkness, in a garden on the other side of the compound, Keisuke promised his mother he'd protect the Uchiha no matter what.
Five days.
Two brothers.
Two promises that couldn't coexist.
And the world held its breath, waiting for the moment when duty and love would finally collide in blood and fire and the destruction of everything three young men had once tried to protect.
The countdown had begun.
And no one could stop it.
Not anymore.