Shisui's death was never announced.
There were no mourning bells.
No farewell ceremony.
No name carved into a memorial stone.
To the outside world, Shisui Uchiha had merely "disappeared."
But to certain individuals—
that loss felt like the silent cracking of the world's backbone.
---
That morning, Konoha looked no different than usual.
Children ran through the main streets.
Merchants opened their stalls.
Shinobi moved with trained, familiar rhythm.
Yet beneath all of it—
The Roots were stirring.
Deep underground, far beneath the governmental buildings, Danzō Shimura sat alone. Dim torchlight cast harsh shadows across his rigid face. His cane rested against the stone floor, its tip stained by marks long since impossible to wash away.
Before him, a Root operative knelt.
"The target escaped," the report was brief, emotionless.
Danzō did not respond immediately.
He slowly raised his hand—
and unwrapped the bandages over his right eye.
Empty.
The socket was still fresh.
No Sharingan.
Silence followed.
Several seconds passed.
Then—
"Failure," Danzō said at last.
One word.
Heavy with pressure.
"But not without consequence."
His gaze lifted forward, as though piercing the stone walls to look upon the entire village.
"Shisui will not return."
The Root operative hesitated. "Should we… continue the pursuit?"
Danzō lowered the bandages again.
"No," he replied coldly. "Shisui is already dead, even if his body has not been found."
His grip tightened on the cane.
"What matters now… is accelerating the schedule."
The operative bowed and vanished into the darkness.
Danzō remained alone.
Yet for the first time—
Something unsettled him.
Not guilt.
Not regret.
But uncertainty.
"That power did not fall into my hands."
And what troubled him even more—
Shisui had not died before his eyes.
No proof.
No eyes.
"Impossible…" Danzō muttered.
He did not know—
That far beyond logic and space—
Shisui truly had died.
And his power now resided in the hands of the one man Danzō least wished to face.
---
Itachi Uchiha stood by the river.
The water flowed gently, reflecting pale morning light. He stared at his own reflection, seeing a face far too calm for someone his age.
Since that night—
He had been unable to sleep.
Shisui's image lingered endlessly in his thoughts. That easy smile. That casual tone. That near-naïve belief that the world could still be saved without bloodshed.
And now—
He was gone.
No official report.
No clarity.
Only a single statement from the village elders:
"Shisui Uchiha is presumed to have committed suicide."
Itachi clenched his fist.
He knew it was a lie.
Shisui would never commit suicide.
He loved life too much.
Loved the future too deeply.
And Itachi knew who stood behind it.
But he also knew—
He could do nothing.
If he moved recklessly, the entire clan would be branded a threat.
And Konoha—
Would not hesitate.
"Thinking too far ahead again?"
The voice came from behind.
Itachi turned.
Haruto stood there, expression blank, eyes dark and deep. No sign of grief. No anger.
And that was what unsettled Itachi most.
"You know?" Itachi asked quietly.
Haruto nodded.
"From the beginning."
Itachi looked back at the river.
"I should have stopped him."
"You couldn't," Haruto replied calmly. "Shisui had already decided."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Itachi asked, "Did he… suffer?"
Haruto did not answer immediately.
He closed his eyes.
Takamagahara trembled within his awareness.
Shisui's final smile—
his last words—
still vivid.
"No," Haruto answered at last. "He left peacefully."
Itachi exhaled in relief, though his chest still felt tight.
"You've changed," Itachi said suddenly.
Haruto met his gaze.
"In what way?"
"Your eyes," Itachi continued. "They feel deeper. More… distant."
Haruto offered a faint smile.
"A lot changes when someone dies."
Itachi wanted to ask more.
But his instincts warned him—
There were truths he was not yet meant to know.
---
Within the Uchiha district, tension thickened.
Clan meetings grew frequent.
Voices grew louder.
Suspicion toward the village became openly voiced.
Fugaku Uchiha sat at the head of the clan, expression rigid.
"Konoha no longer trusts us," he said firmly. "And now Shisui has vanished."
Several clan members clenched their fists.
"This proves it!"
"They've begun purging us!"
"We must act!"
The room heated rapidly.
Yet in one corner—
Haruto sat in silence.
Listening.
Analyzing.
His gaze drifted toward Mikoto.
She returned it with worry etched clearly on her face.
She knew.
All of this was converging toward a single point.
And that point—
Could not be stopped with words alone.
---
That night, Haruto stood alone within Takamagahara.
The dimension felt different.
Denser.
Heavier.
Shisui's power had fully integrated.
And with it—
Came new burdens.
Memories.
Regret.
Hope that had failed.
Haruto stared at his hands.
"You trusted me," he murmured. "And I won't let your sacrifice be meaningless."
He raised his head.
His gaze sharpened.
"But not your way."
He knew—
He could kill Danzō right now.
Erase the poisonous root from the village.
But that would only hasten the clan's destruction.
Danzō was not the sole source.
He was merely a catalyst.
The rot ran deeper.
The system.
Fear.
Inherited hatred.
If Haruto moved too fast—
Itachi would be forced to choose.
Mikoto would become a victim.
Izumi would break.
No.
Not yet.
Haruto closed his eyes.
And for the first time—
He accepted a bitter truth.
This tragedy could not be fully prevented.
But—
He could decide who survived it.
A gentle wind stirred within Takamagahara.
And far away in Konoha—
Danzō Shimura issued an order that would shake history.
Preparations began.
And the crimson night—
Stood at the threshold.
---
Konoha's night was never truly dark.
Torches burned along the streets, lanterns glowed softly from homes, and shinobi patrols moved with practiced precision. Yet beneath that order, something rotten spread quietly—unseen, but inevitable.
At the Hokage Tower, Hiruzen Sarutobi stood facing the window. Smoke from his pipe curled slowly through the air, forming patterns that shattered and vanished. His aged face looked heavier than usual, as though decades of burden had collapsed into a single night.
A soft knock sounded.
"Enter," Hiruzen said without turning.
The door opened.
Danzō Shimura entered with steady steps, his cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. He stopped a few steps behind Hiruzen and dipped his head briefly—mere formality.
"Shisui Uchiha has officially been declared a suicide," Danzō stated. "Rumors within the clan are escalating."
Hiruzen exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"Are you certain that was the best choice?" he asked quietly.
Danzō narrowed his eye. "It was the necessary one."
Hiruzen finally turned. Their gazes met—two old men who had chosen different paths for the sake of the same village.
"And if it isn't enough?" Hiruzen asked. "If the Uchiha still move?"
Danzō did not hesitate.
"Then," he replied coldly, "we ensure they never move again."
Silence.
The words hung heavily.
Hiruzen closed his eyes briefly.
"There is still Itachi," he said. "He can be a bridge."
"Precisely why," Danzō answered, "he must be summoned now."
---
Itachi sat cross-legged in his room when ANBU arrived.
No resistance.
No surprise.
It was as though he had been waiting.
In the secret meeting chamber, Danzō and the two village elders were already seated. Hiruzen stood near the window, his back to the room.
"Itachi Uchiha," Danzō said. "You know why you are here."
Itachi lowered his head. "Because my clan is considered a threat."
"Correct," one elder said. "And because only you can stop it without war."
Itachi clenched his hands beneath his cloak.
"What must I do?" he asked.
Hiruzen turned.
"Protect the village," he said heavily.
Danzō continued in an emotionless voice, "By sacrificing your clan."
The words struck like a hammer.
Yet Itachi's face remained calm.
"And my younger brother?"
Hiruzen studied him for a long moment.
"Sasuke will be spared," he said at last. "He will be the last remaining Uchiha."
Itachi nodded faintly.
"Then," he said, "I will do it."
No one noticed—
That at that moment, something inside him died.
---
Elsewhere, Haruto stood atop a tall building, gazing down at Konoha from afar. The night wind tugged at his cloak. Below him, the village looked peaceful—too peaceful.
"The decision has been made," he thought.
He could feel it.
The tangled threads of fate were tightening toward a single direction. The will of leaders. Collective fear. Betrayal wrapped in the words for the village.
And Itachi—
Haruto closed his eyes.
He saw it—not literally, but through deep understanding. Itachi had been chosen. Not as a hero, but as a blade.
"You're a victim too," Haruto thought. "But that won't stop you."
He opened his eyes.
Takamagahara pulsed gently within his mind, awaiting command. Mikoto and Izumi surfaced in his thoughts—their faces, voices, warmth that stood in cruel contrast to the night ahead.
"Time is running out," Haruto murmured.
He stepped off the rooftop, vanishing into the shadows.
---
Within the Uchiha district, Mikoto prepared tea when a sense of dread washed over her. Her hands trembled slightly as she poured the hot water.
"I have a bad feeling," she whispered.
Izumi, seated near the door, looked up. "Ever since Shisui disappeared, everything feels wrong."
Mikoto nodded.
Then—
A soft knock came at the door.
Izumi stood alert. "Who is it?"
"Haruto," came the reply.
The door opened.
Haruto stood there, expression serious, gaze sharp yet controlled.
"We need to talk," he said. "Now."
Mikoto felt her heart sink.
She knew.
Tonight—
Was not an ordinary night.
---
Deep underground, Danzō received his final report.
"Root forces are ready."
Danzō nodded.
"Move after midnight," he ordered. "Leave no witnesses."
He closed his eyes.
Not in prayer.
But to ensure—
That when the sun rose,
the Uchiha clan would be nothing more than history.
And at the same time—
Haruto Uchiha stepped forward to challenge a fate decided by others.
**********
Author: May you all always be healthy!