"Itachi, I entrust Sasuke to your care from now on."
The full moon hung high in the sky, not a cloud in sight. Its cold, crystalline light spilled across the Leaf Village.
Beneath that moonlit glow, a massacre was unfolding.
In the Uchiha compound at the village's edge, the people of the Uchiha clan—young and old, men and women—lay slaughtered in the streets. Their bodies scattered across the district, eyes wide open in death, blood pooling beneath them. The reek of iron hung thick in the air.
In the home of the Uchiha Police Force Commander, Uchiha Fugaku and his wife Mikoto knelt side by side. They watched their eldest son—eyes blazing with killing intent yet glistening with tears—standing before them. The couple closed their eyes and waited in silence for the blade.
As quiet sobs echoed, a sharp pain lanced through their bodies. Then nothing.
When Uchiha Fugaku opened his eyes again, he found himself translucent.
This is...
A spiritual form?
Fugaku examined his ethereal body, then glanced around the room. His son Itachi had already left. On the floor lay the corpses of himself and his wife, blood still spreading across the tatami. Young Sasuke lay in the doorway—no wounds on him, his chest still rising and falling with breath—but his face was pale, his brow furrowed as if caught in a nightmare.
Just a child. He'd witnessed his entire clan's slaughter firsthand...
I'm...
Another translucent figure emerged from his wife's body, identical in every way. Her soul.
Mikoto's eyes fluttered open. Confusion flickered across her face for a moment before clarity set in. She observed herself and her husband in their current state, and the answer was clear.
"We're really dead, aren't we? I wonder what waits for us in the afterlife..."
"The Uchiha... destroyed by my own hand..."
Just as the couple sank into their grief, a strange, deep male voice cut through the silence.
"The afterlife isn't nearly as pleasant as the living imagine it to be."
The unexpected voice snapped them both from their despair. Fugaku's shinobi instincts kicked in. He turned toward the voice, placing himself protectively in front of his wife.
He hadn't sensed anyone else in the room moments before.
"Who are you?" he demanded sharply. "What are you doing here?"
The man who came into view wore a black kosode, his build tall and commanding, a katana hanging at his side like a nobleman's warrior. But what caught Fugaku's attention most was his appearance.
Sharp, handsome features. Narrow, intense eyes that gleamed with authority. Thick, long eyebrows that rose like flickering flames—not heavy like Might Guy's, but dynamic, alive. His dark red hair mirrored the same effect, creating an aura of both solemnity and vitality.
In the darkness, those eyes burned with an uncanny light.
"Fugaku-san, don't be alarmed... though I suppose alarm is pointless now that you're dead." The man spoke calmly. "My name is Shihoin Yanagi. I'm a Shinigami from another world, and I'm here to make a proposition with the Uchiha clan."
"A Shinigami? From another world?"
The couple exchanged confused glances. If he was a Shinigami, he should be here to ferry their souls to the afterlife. But another world? What did that mean?
Did Shinigami operate in territories like ninja clans? Did different regions have different Shinigami assigned to them?
Fugaku relaxed his guard slightly, but his brow remained furrowed. "What kind of proposition?"
Shihoin Yanagi stepped forward. "I can grant your clan a second life in another world—the Soul Society, we call it. In exchange, the entire Uchiha clan will enter into a contract with me and swear absolute loyalty."
As he spoke, his gaze swept across their chests. No chains. Different worlds must have different rules.
"A second... life?"
Fugaku felt the pull of temptation, but he kept his wits about him. His voice remained steady and measured. "We're already dead. How can we live again? Will you resurrect us? And if we go to this Soul Society you speak of, can we still return to the shinobi world?"
Mikoto's eyes drifted toward Sasuke in the doorway, filled with guilt and maternal ache.
Yanagi held up two fingers.
"First: You'll exist in the Soul Society as spirits, but you'll function no differently than living humans. If you have sufficient talent, you can eat normally, even have children if you wish.
"Second: I've already mapped the coordinates of this world. Whenever you wish to travel back and forth, you need only my permission. I can open a gateway for you to traverse freely between worlds."
Fugaku's eyes flickered with interest, but he wasn't finished. "And if we refuse this deal?"
"This world also has its own purified realm, though it differs from mine. Spirits there exist in a state of frozen consciousness. If you don't follow me, you'll remain in the shinobi world's afterlife, where you'll eventually lose all will until your souls fade completely into nothing."
Yanagi let the information settle, giving them time to process, before extending his hand in a gesture of finality.
"Choose: Follow me to another world and live, or surrender yourselves to this realm and slowly dissolve into oblivion."
Thousands of lives depended on Fugaku's decision. One mistake, and the entire Uchiha future would be lost once again.
The weight of it pressed down on him like a mountain. He couldn't breathe.
Faced with such a burden, Fugaku's indecisive nature flared up. He couldn't commit to a choice.
"Shinigami-dono, this matter is grave. Might I consult with the rest of my clan before deciding?"
"You may. But time is short. I suggest you move quickly."
Yanagi gave a slight nod, then continued, "I've arranged guides at your police headquarters to direct the spirits here. Your people should arrive soon."
Fugaku and Mikoto exchanged a glance and immediately headed outside.
As they passed Sasuke, they slowed for just a moment—then pressed onward without stopping.
Priorities. The boy was unharmed. They couldn't waste time.
The moment they stepped out the door, they saw the sky itself had transformed. A nearly invisible membrane stretched across the compound, covered in mysterious runes and symbols that crisscrossed like chains.
"What is this?"
Both shuddered. They hadn't seen this before.
Almost instinctively, they looked back at the house. No need to ask—it had to be the work of that mysterious Shinigami.
Watching the couple depart, Shihoin Yanagi's expression relaxed slightly.
'The Uchiha will agree in the end,' he thought coolly. 'They're too proud to waste away. But given their obsession with strength, I should probably give them a demonstration...'
Yanagi understood the Uchiha mindset intimately.
Because in his past life—on a world called Earth—he'd consumed countless manga, anime, and fanfictions. He knew the Uchiha clan's nature inside and out.
That's right. Shihoin Yanagi wasn't born of the shinobi world, nor was he native to the Soul Society. He was a soul from Earth who had undergone a bizarre transmigration.
Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Yanagi's soul had arrived in the Soul Society, where an old man had found him abandoned.
Since he'd been discovered in an old abandoned stone mortar shop, the man had named him "Kenzan"—grinding stone.
After half a year of study, Yanagi had mastered the Soul Society's language and lived with the old man in modest comfort.
Because he could still feel hunger, he'd enrolled at the Shin'ō Academy. However, a clerical error during enrollment had resulted in a name change in the official records. The kanji was rewritten, and he became known as "Yanagi"—willow.
From his first day, Yanagi had demonstrated exceptional talent. Combined with relentless effort, he earned recognition as an elite student.
After graduation, he caught the eye of the previous head of House Shihoin—a powerful noble clan—impressed by both his steady temperament and handsome features. He was recruited as a live-in son-in-law, tasked with supporting and tempering the current somewhat overly energetic family head.
Though not formally married yet, the engagement was sealed. The position was his. He'd taken the name: Shihoin Yanagi.
The blade at his waist had made his crossing possible—his Zanpakutō.
His spiritual pressure had reached the fourth rank, equivalent to a Vice-Captain's strength. Strong enough to hear his blade's name and perform its initial release.
One of the abilities granted by that release: the power to traverse between worlds.
With his resolve set, he'd torn through the spatial barrier separating the two worlds, arriving in the first: this war-torn Naruto world.
After acclimating to the shinobi realm for some time, he'd taken action. The timing was perfect—the eve of the Uchiha massacre.
Now, as Fugaku and Mikoto departed, Yanagi's gaze fell upon Sasuke, still caught in nightmare.
'No rush... In a few mere decades, you'll belong to me as well.'
Once outside, the couple split up, running through the streets to gather their clansmen's spirits to the main plaza.
The Uchiha dead, still reeling from the shock of their deaths, drowning in rage and despair, heard Fugaku and Mikoto's calls echoing through the district.
"Uchiha Fugaku! What is the meaning of this?! How dare your son Itachi do this to us!"
"Commander! Look at what your precious son has done! You owe us an explanation!"
"My daughter was only three months old! Three months! Why would he kill a defenseless infant?!"
"And my boy—only five years old! What crime could such a small child possibly commit?!"
Their tears and accusations forced Fugaku and Mikoto deeper into the crowd, surrounding them completely.
Wave after wave of grief-stricken questions nearly broke Fugaku. This man—known throughout the shinobi world as the "Fierce-Eyed" commander—now found himself facing something far more devastating than any battlefield.
The crime was his son's. The responsibility was his own, as the father.
But not now.
A roar tore from Fugaku's throat, drowning out the chorus of wails.
Within the clan, Fugaku still commanded respect. The voices gradually quieted.
Thud.
Fugaku and Mikoto collapsed to their knees before their people, forehead meeting stone in a heavy bow.
Tears streamed down their faces.
"Itachi's crimes are my responsibility," Fugaku's voice shook with sobs. "After tonight, if you wish to execute me ten thousand times over, I will offer no resistance.
"But there is a matter of utmost urgency tonight—one that concerns the very future of our clan. I beg you, grant us but one hour! Just one hour—and after that, do with us as you will!"
Beside him, Mikoto's voice rang out just as desperately: "I too take full responsibility! Please, let us explain what has happened!"
From within the crowd, a voice broke through: "But we're all dead now! What future could there possibly be for us?"
"There is!" Fugaku's voice cracked with raw emotion. "Just moments ago, I encountered a Shinigami—a god of death! He has offered our Uchiha clan the chance to live again!"
The couple rapidly recounted their encounter.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"That's impossible!"
"How can we trust this 'Shinigami'? We know nothing of him!"
"And to swear loyalty to a stranger? We are Uchiha! We bow to no one, not even a god of—"
Their protests were cut short.
A wave of overwhelming pressure erupted from nowhere, crashing down upon every single soul present.
The street fell silent instantly. Every voice choked off.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The elderly and children collapsed first, flattened beneath the weight, unable to move.
Then the adults. Then the genin.
Then, finally, even those Uchiha who'd awakened their Sharingan found themselves pressed into the earth.
In seconds, not a single Uchiha remained standing.