Time passes quietly—merciless and indifferent.Tonight, the moon above Konoha feels colder than usual.Because tonight... the Uchiha name will burn itself out.
And the one destined to stand amid its ashes is none other than Uchiha Sasuke.
Earlier today, when the Ten'mon was activated, the result was clear.Blood calamity—inevitable.Even Naruto, careless as ever, knew it.
The night of the Uchiha's fall… has finally arrived.
He doesn't move to stop it.He can't.And honestly, he won't.
For the ambitious, tragedy is a teacher.For the proud, it's a price.Kings and corpses—this world has never made space for both.
Naruto understands this cruel rhythm of survival all too well.Even Sasuke's father had accepted it long ago.Otherwise, how could he face his own son's blade with such eerie calm?Some deaths are rehearsed long before the curtain falls.
Naruto spends his day drifting between boredom and mock sleep, feigning normalcy at the Academy.After class, Sasuke lingers behind—exactly like in the memories Naruto once read about.
Naruto watches him for a long moment.The poor kid doesn't even know what's coming.Blank paper, waiting for someone else to stain it—Black or white, that choice will shape his life.And tonight, Uchiha Itachi will be the first to leave his mark.
With a faint sigh, Naruto shakes his head.He walks Hinata home, warmth softening the edges of his thoughts, then returns to the training ground.His heart isn't in it.The massacre has stolen the wind from his focus.
But still—appearances must be maintained.The Hokage's "crystal ball" sees everything, after all.
He throws a few lazy punches, half-hearted kicks—motions for the sake of motion.Kakashi's not coming tonight. No one will bother him.All they'll see is a lonely boy training, unaware of what lurks behind the evening calm.
When the sun sinks and the moon rises, Naruto's true work begins.
He drifts toward the Uchiha district, quiet as a shadow.He's done this so often no one even questions it anymore.
Tonight, though, his purpose is different.
Crouched behind the tall stone walls of the compound, Naruto watches the silver light fall across the rooftops.His expression—emptiness wrapped in faint sadness.He lowers his head, and Ten'gan activates.A ripple of gold flashes across his pupils.
Fifty meters of sight. Enough.
Every motion within that radius becomes a reflection in his gaze—even the soft flutter of a passing moth.
He cannot enter the compound, but the perimeter suffices.His goal is not rescue.It is the soul.
The Rikudō Shingon had told him before:Even if you didn't strike the killing blow, as long as your spirit power is strong enough…you can seize what the living abandon.
A forbidden practice, demanding immense mental strength.But Naruto needs it.
He lacks nothing now—except souls.Without them, his Shinra no Jutsu cannot evolve.He can't leave Konoha; the village watches him too closely.So the only chance lies here—among the freshly dead.
He's tried the graveyard before.Nothing left there but dust and silence.Even the souls of fallen shinobi have long dissolved.All he found was a single comfort:the gravestones of his parents—Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina.
He'd stood before them for a long time,reading their names again and again,feeling something ache that wasn't quite his—but somehow was.
The memories, the pain, the love—they all passed to him.That's the price of inheriting another's will.
He doesn't cry anymore.But sometimes, when he remembers what his father and mother said before dying,his eyes sting on their own.
A god's heart shouldn't feel that, and yet it does.
Then—motion.
From above, masked figures slip through the dark like cuts in reality.Root operatives.No hesitation. No remorse. Only purpose.
Naruto watches them for a while, then nods grimly.So it begins.
Moments later, the first souls rise—pale and trembling,like smoke from a candle snuffed too soon.
Naruto exhales.He reaches out with his will.The Kyōmetsu burns within him.The Rikudō Shingon hums.
One by one, the souls vanish into the glow of his inner world,fuel for the power that should never have been his.
Somewhere deep within that sacred hum, a voice speaks:
"Collect well, Host.The gods envy mortals only when they bleed."
Naruto smiles faintly.A divine troll's whisper. A cruel mercy.
And the night of the Uchiha burns on.