Kazuki's heart pounded with excitement.
But when he considered the conditions required to complete this mission, he hesitated. The difficulty of accomplishing this task was undeniable.
The Sharingan—what was that?
It was a coveted power, an ability that figures like Orochimaru, Danzo, and countless others sought after desperately. And tonight was no ordinary night—it was the night of the Uchiha Clan's massacre. By dawn, the number of individuals possessing the Sharingan would dwindle to just a handful.
Aside from Sasuke Uchiha, whose Sharingan had yet to awaken, every remaining Uchiha was a formidable shinobi. The odds of obtaining a Sharingan were nearly impossible.
Tonight was his only chance.
Kazuki glanced at the concealed mask in his hand. A bold idea suddenly took root in his mind.
A full moon hung high in the sky. The night was eerily silent—so quiet that even the usual hum of insects had vanished.
The Uchiha clan resided on the outskirts of Konoha, their district set apart from the rest of the village. After the death of Hashirama Senju, his brother, Tobirama Senju, became the Second Hokage. He harbored deep distrust toward the Uchiha and implemented policies that steadily marginalized them. Although the Uchiha were given control over the Konoha Police Force, this was a calculated move—it distanced them from the village's political core and subtly reinforced their isolation.
Over time, their residence was relocated to the village's periphery. This geographical and political segregation made it easier for Konoha's higher-ups to suppress the truth about what was to unfold tonight.
Beyond the Uchiha district, in the surrounding woods, Shimura Danzo and his Root operatives lay in wait, monitoring the Uchiha's every move. Standing beside Danzo was Uchiha Itachi, clad in a black cloak. His gaze swept over the Root members—each one an emotionless tool, a lifeless extension of Danzo's will. Their presence exuded an overwhelming sense of cold, mechanical efficiency, as if they were nothing more than weapons.
Even if a person's emotions were stripped away, could they still be called human?
Itachi pondered this.
He knew these men had not become like this by chance. Years of Danzo's secretive conditioning had shaped them into these unfeeling husks. Moreover, Danzo had ensured their silence through an insidious sealing jutsu—the Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal. If any Root member so much as spoke about Danzo's actions, the seal would activate, paralyzing them completely, rendering them incapable of speech or movement.
Danzo was nothing if not a meticulous and dangerous man.
"Lord Danzo, I won't trouble you any further," Itachi said, bowing slightly.
Danzo studied Itachi for a long moment before nodding. "Go. Leave the rest to me."
Then, with a sinister smirk, he added, "I suggest you don't let your thoughts wander. Don't forget—your little brother is still under our watch. If you don't want anything unfortunate to happen to him…"
Itachi's expression remained blank. "Understood."
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the Uchiha compound, his pace steady—neither hurried nor sluggish. Yet, with each step, the air around him grew heavier, charged with an almost tangible menace.
Danzo raised his right hand, signaling to his subordinates.
Immediately, hundreds of Root operatives moved into their assigned positions, spreading out in a precise formation around the Uchiha compound. Their hands flew through a series of seals. Within moments, a surge of chakra resonated across the area, forming an intricate web of interlinked nodes. A massive barrier enveloped the entire Uchiha district.
"The Uchiha have been sealed in."
A cruel chuckle escaped one of the Root members. "By morning, there won't be a single Uchiha left in Konoha."
Danzo's eyes gleamed with anticipation. His lips curled into a self-satisfied smile.
"I wonder how many Sharingan I'll collect tonight," he murmured.
His fingers twitched with excitement at the thought. Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, had been too concerned with his so-called moral standing to take decisive action. But Danzo? He had no such qualms. He was prepared to do what was necessary for the village.
"Sarutobi, you fool," he sneered. "You're too weak to make the hard choices. But that's fine… because once I claim the Sharingan, the Hokage's seat will belong to me."
A low, rasping chuckle escaped his lips as the massacre began.
Danzo remained still, his expression unreadable. Yet, he failed to notice the faintest fluctuation of chakra in the space around him.
At that moment, a masked figure emerged—Kazuki, concealed in the shadows beside Shimura Danzo. He had listened to Danzo's arrogant remarks just moments before.
Kazuki chuckled softly and said, "I am professionally trained. I don't usually laugh… unless I can't help myself."
Uchiha Clan Compound
"Itachi! What is the meaning of this? You didn't attend tonight's clan meeting!"
As soon as Uchiha Itachi stepped into the Uchiha compound, several guards stationed at the entrance moved to block his path. Their eyes bore into him with suspicion, their expressions dark with disapproval.
"Even if you are a member of Anbu, don't forget your own bloodline. You are still Uchiha!"
"Hah, looks like Konoha's lapdog has forgotten his own surname."
Distrust had long been festering within the Uchiha clan. Many viewed Itachi as a traitor, despite his status as the eldest son of the clan head. Under normal circumstances, he would have ignored their taunts. But tonight… tonight was different.
"The Uchiha name…" Itachi muttered under his breath.
In the next instant, his dark irises were consumed by a crimson glow—his Sharingan spinning rapidly. The tomoe in his eyes revolved at dizzying speed, forming a deadly triad.
"Then let me redefine what it means to bear the Uchiha name."
As his voice fell, the guards' expressions shifted from anger to shock… then fear. Their bodies stiffened. Their eyes dulled.
In the blink of an eye, Uchiha Itachi had cast a genjutsu over them.
His mastery of illusions was unfathomable. Even without activating his Mangekyō Sharingan, the sheer power of his three-tomoe Sharingan was enough to suppress fellow Uchiha who also possessed the dojutsu.
Shing!
Kunai flashed. One by one, throats were slit with surgical precision.
The bodies of over a dozen Uchiha crumpled to the ground in eerie silence.
And for Uchiha Itachi…
This was only the beginning.
The massacre had begun.
Within the Uchiha district, the Sharingan's hierarchy was absolute—higher-tier dojutsu dominated those of lesser potency.
With his Mangekyō Sharingan already awakened, Itachi carved through his kin with minimal resistance. Yet, as the slaughter escalated, the Uchiha Police Force finally took notice.
"Itachi! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"You're attacking your own clan—you traitor!"
"Kill him!"
The Uchiha Police Force was the strongest military unit within the clan. Nearly all its members wielded three-tomoe Sharingan and held jōnin-level strength. If they attacked in unison, even Itachi with his Mangekyō would struggle.
Just as they surged forward, the space around them distorted.
A masked figure materialized in front of them—Uchiha Obito.
Their gazes locked onto his singular eye.
A terrifying, swirling pattern spun within his socket—Mangekyō Sharingan.
From beneath his mask, a chilling, inhuman chuckle echoed.
"Jie jie jie…"
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