Uchiha Itachi's footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor as he made his way through the Hokage's residence. His heart raced with an unusual mixture of dread and hope.
The Third Hokage had summoned him personally. Could it be—had Lord Hiruzen finally convinced Shisui to act? If Shisui had agreed to use his Kotoamatsukami, then Ryosuke would be bound by loyalty to Konoha, loyal to the Hokage, and no longer free to destabilize the fragile balance between the clan and the village.
If that was true, then perhaps peace was finally within reach.
Itachi pushed open the door of the Hokage's office, his voice sharp and urgent:
"Lord Hokage, did you succeed? Did Shisui agree to act against Uchiha Ryosuke?"
His dark eyes, always so calm and detached, now revealed a rare glimmer of hope. This was no small matter—it was a question that could determine the fate of the Uchiha, of the Hokage, of the entire village itself.
But the man behind the desk, the aged Hokage who had borne the title for decades, did not answer with joy. Instead, his shoulders slumped, his voice heavy with bitterness.
"I did not succeed," Hiruzen said slowly. "Shisui… refused. Not only that—he dared to demand my resignation. He sought to drive me from office."
The words struck Itachi like a kunai to the chest. His eyes widened.
"Th–that's impossible," he whispered, his disbelief raw and unfiltered. "Shisui would never say such a thing. He has always been loyal to you, to the Hokage. How could he…"
It didn't make sense. Shisui, who had always preached that the village must come before the clan. Shisui, whose conviction in protecting Konoha had rivaled his own. He had refused to use Kotoamatsukami on Ryosuke, yes, but to go so far as to challenge the Hokage's authority—that was beyond anything Itachi could comprehend.
Could Shisui have truly turned radical? More so than Ryosuke himself, who already treated the Hokage with disdain and made a mockery of the village's authority?
Hiruzen's voice dropped, a weary mix of sorrow and frustration.
"I too could not believe it at first. But those were his words, spoken to my face. Perhaps it was Ryosuke's influence… perhaps he has already been swayed. I had no choice, Itachi. He left me no choice. I struck him down myself."
The room fell silent.
Itachi's breath caught in his throat.
Shisui… dead?
The man who had treated him like a brother, who had believed in him when no one else did? The one who had guided him through the darkness of the Uchiha's growing discontent? Gone?
Killed—not by an enemy shinobi, not by the clan—but by the very Hokage he had devoted his life to protect.
A hot, stabbing pain tore through Itachi's chest. His hands trembled. His mind screamed for this to be a lie, some genjutsu, some mistake. But the heavy, regretful tone in Hiruzen's voice left no room for denial.
"No… Shisui…"
His vision blurred with grief. The sorrow welled up inside him, colliding with rage, despair, and helplessness. In that crushing storm of emotions, something within his eyes shifted.
His Sharingan spun violently, the tomoe within his pupils twisting, contorting—until they stretched into a new, terrifying shape: a three-pointed windmill, sharp and angular.
The Mangekyō Sharingan.
Hiruzen's eyes widened in shock.
Another one? Another Uchiha had awakened this cursed evolution of the Sharingan? First Shisui, now Itachi. The clan's power was becoming overwhelming.
Was Itachi going to strike him down here and now, avenge his fallen brother-in-arms?
Hiruzen subtly shifted his posture. He had already placed ANBU operatives around the office, hidden in the shadows, prepared for this possibility. If Itachi made even the slightest hostile move, they would cut him down immediately. He could not allow himself to be killed here—not when the village still depended on him.
But instead of attacking, Itachi froze. His grief was raw, yes—but beneath it burned a familiar, cold resolve.
The Hokage broke the silence, his voice low and careful.
"Itachi… tell me. Do you also mean to raise your hand against me? Shisui was misguided. If he had his way, the Uchiha would control the Nine-Tails, and the village itself would become their puppet. If I fall, Konoha will cease to exist as it is meant to. I did what I had to—for the sake of the village. I pray you can understand my position."
Itachi's fists clenched. For a long, tense moment, he said nothing.
Then, with visible effort, he lifted his gaze, the Mangekyō still burning in his eyes. His voice was calm now, almost cold, but the edge of grief was still there.
"No, Hokage-sama. I do not hate you. This… this is Ryosuke's doing. It was his influence that twisted Shisui. It was Shisui's own weakness that allowed it to happen. He failed to hold fast to his true principles. He let himself be swayed. That is why he fell."
At those words, Hiruzen released a quiet sigh of relief. Itachi had turned his grief into anger against Ryosuke, not against him. For Hiruzen, it was the best possible outcome.
So young, and yet… so indoctrinated. Itachi's loyalty to the Will of Fire was absolute.
"Yes…" the Hokage said, carefully molding his words. "It eases my heart to hear you say that. I, too, mourn for Shisui. He will be honored among Konoha's greatest heroes. I will see to it that he rests alongside the village's bravest. But Itachi… your eyes…"
He leaned forward slightly, the faintest spark of curiosity flashing through the old man's eyes.
"You've awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan, haven't you? Tell me—what power do those eyes hold?"
Itachi touched his temples instinctively. The surge of power coursing through his vision was unlike anything he had ever felt. His chakra felt sharper, heavier. His very mind seemed to whisper new truths to him—fragments of abilities hidden deep within his eyes. He could sense it instinctively: the Mangekyō had unlocked something terrible, something powerful.
Memories flooded his mind—his classmate Tenma, cut down mercilessly by the masked man years ago. That grief had driven his eyes from two tomoe to three. And now, Shisui… the loss was unbearable. Itachi realized with grim clarity:
The Mangekyō Sharingan was awakened through profound sorrow. Through the death of those dearest to the wielder.
What a cruel fate for the Uchiha. To grow stronger only through the loss of love.
He clenched his fists, his jaw tight. Shisui's death was unforgivable, but the power it had given him could not be ignored. Perhaps it was fate—his duty as an Uchiha, as a shinobi of Konoha.
Yes. With these eyes, he would protect the village… even if it meant becoming its executioner.
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