The apartment greeted him with silence. Shisui sighed, kicked off his shoes, and peeked into Sasuke's room. Everything was fine, the bed perfectly made, pillows stacked on top of the blanket.
This late, and he's not home?
Behind the glass door spanning the entire wall leading to the balcony, nighttime Konoha glowed with a scattering of windows. Shisui went to the kitchen, flipped the switch, and gulped cool water from the refrigerator. A note awaited him on the counter.
"Gone on a mission. Won't be back soon."
Signature and date. Brief and dry.
That's all Sasuke-kun. "Won't be back soon…" Ah, so S-rank? You've grown so fast if they're giving you those missions.
Judging by the date, Sasuke had been gone for several days.
Shisui leisurely prepared dinner, ate alone, stood on the balcony enjoying the evening air, and went to bed thinking he must visit Kirei at the hospital first thing in the morning.
The ringing shattered the silence of his dreams.
Shisui opened his eyes and saw daylight outside the windows. The ringing wasn't casual. It was insistent, as if trying to smash the doorbell to hell. He cursed and stepped into the corridor. His head was still heavy from sleep, eyes stung by morning light.
I'll snap their neck.
He flung the door open and choked on prepared curses. Kirei stood on the threshold. She confidently shoved him in the chest, pushing him deeper into the apartment corridor, entered after, and closed the door.
"You… what?" Shisui muttered, bewildered.
Kirei was extremely serious. It was frightening.
What did I do wrong?
"News."
He held his breath and swallowed.
"What? Something with Sasuke? News from Itachi?"
Kirei shook her head.
"No."
Relief washed over him. But then the question arose: what then? What other news could interest him, in Kirei's opinion?
"Two days ago, they brought an injured girl about eleven to the hospital."
"And?"
"She reminded me of someone. No, not reminded. I'm more than sure it's Sarada."
"What?!" Shisui exclaimed.
Kirei shook her head.
"She's fine. No vital organs hit, just side pierced. Lost a lot of blood, but she's better already. She'll recover."
"Impossible," Shisui whispered. "She died that night!"
"I don't know what happened that night. I don't know where she came from in the village, who injured her, why she's still a child. I just came to tell you. That's all."
"You're going back to the hospital now?"
"Yeah. Damn it, I left my shift to tell you this."
"Wait a minute. I'll get dressed."
"I can't wait!"
"One minute, Kirei!"
They entered the hospital. Shisui strode quickly down the corridor, almost running. Kirei tried to keep pace, but he always outpaced her. White walls, smell of medicine, the oppressive hospital atmosphere pressed from all sides.
"Which room?"
"Through that door. Not from that side, left."
Shisui stopped at the entrance and exhaled. He gathered his thoughts and prepared for what he might see in the room.
"I'm not sure we can go in," Kirei repeated for the umpteenth time that morning. "Her doctor will…"
"I don't care!" Shisui hissed angrily.
Itachi, were you right all this time? She really time travels?
But his former friend said Madara stabbed Sarada in the heart; said Sarada died in his arms, then vanished. Then how the hell? How can she be alive?!
Or Kirei was wrong and it's not Sarada.
Shisui didn't know what was worse: seeing someone else instead of her and facing crushing disappointment, or seeing Sarada and going completely mad?
He quietly peeked into the bright room and, biting his lower lip, closed the door in Kirei's face. She'd be furious, but so be it. No outsiders in this room now.
Shisui took a few steps to the bed.
A thin arm lay atop the blanket with an IV needle taped into the vein. Familiar hairstyle—black hair to the shoulders, long bangs. Neatly folded red-framed glasses sat on the bedside table.
Black lashes fluttered. The girl, squinting, opened her eyes and looked at him wearily.
It was her. Without glasses, not immediately obvious, but definitely Sarada.
However, she differed from the Sarada Shisui once knew. Excessive pallor, inflamed red eyes, strange chakra—impregnated with heaviness and… cold.
"Who are you?"
"Don't you recognize me?"
"Can't see without glasses. Something familiar…"
"Shisui."
Sarada closed her eyes and licked dry lips.
"Why do you sound so grown-up?"
"Five years passed, Sarada."
Shisui pulled a stool to the bed, sat, and gently took her cold, weak hand, from which the IV tube trailed.
Over the years, the image of Itachi's niece had somewhat faded from memory, but even so, Shisui felt the girl before him looked a bit younger than he remembered. Or had he just grown himself?
"I have… a lot of questions," Shisui decided to approach from afar. "How are you? Okay? Or should I come back later?"
Damn, hospital's no place for such talks. Walls have ears.
"Doesn't matter to me."
The empty gaze showed through her half-closed lids again. As if only the body lived, no soul in it.
"You've changed."
"I died. People change after that."
The long sentence cost her effort.
A chill ran down Shisui's spine.
Died? What does that mean?
"As soon as you're better, I'll take you home."
A flicker of interest sparked in the lifeless gaze of her nearsighted black eyes.
"I have a home?"
"Yes."
Sarada struggled to part her lips and whispered:
"Shisui-san… they tried to kill me."
Yeah, I know. Just aimed for the heart, wound's on the side, and I'm still curious how that happened. But we'll talk about it at home.
"For you, it was just a couple days ago. Naturally…"
"No," the weak voice interrupted. "They tried to kill me here."
"What?" Shisui frowned.
"Anbu. Don't believe me?" Sarada asked, as if without much hope he'd take her words seriously.
Shisui had seen this somewhere before. Ambush on return from a border mission, same time, years ago.
"I believe you."
Sarada closed her eyes again.
"What happened the day I died?"
"You're sure…"
"Yes, sure."
Too calm.
"That day Itachi…" Shisui said, struggling for words. "…destroyed the entire Uchiha clan, except Sasuke and me. I was at the border, Sasuke survived by miracle."
"Why did he do it?"
Too complicated. I won't explain all the nuances. Not now, and not here.
"They say he went mad," Shisui replied.
Sarada sighed.
"As I thought."
If all of Konoha says so, doesn't make it true, Sarada. Though… who knows, maybe it is true, just not all of it.
***
The Hokage removed the pipe from his mouth and exhaled smoke.
"They didn't find the girl's body that night," Hiruzen rasped. "And now she appears in the village, injured, nearly six years later. Still thirteen. How do you explain that?"
"Very simply."
The Third bit his pipe and leaned back in his chair.
"She had my protection. Mangekyo technique."
"Mangekyo power…" the old man murmured. "Who'd have thought Sharingan held so many secrets. But why on Sarada, Shisui? Why not protect your own family? Your…" The Hokage meant to say mother but stopped.
"I didn't know how it'd work," Shisui reproached Hiruzen and enunciated: "And I didn't think it'd be needed. Pure chance that saved Sarada's life."
"Incredible…"
"Sandaime," Shisui finished justifying and swiftly moved to the main point to avoid Mangekyo questions: "Anbu attacked a girl from my clan."
The Hokage frowned. Wrinkles deepened on his face.
"Uchiha are practically gone," Shisui said harshly. "They're finishing us off inside our own village walls."
"I understand your outrage, Shisui. I'll look into it."
"You said that over five years ago, and nothing's changed."
"You must understand, Shisui," the Hokage said gravely. "A girl missing for years suddenly shows up in Konoha. Logical to assume she might be in league with Itachi and a threat to the village."
"So kill her without investigating?"
"I didn't say that."
"Sandaime…"
"I'll handle it, Shisui," Hiruzen repeated. "Some mistake. Konoha considers Uchiha brothers-in-arms. No one will harm you or your clan."
What's left of it. Me and two kids. No one will harm… Brothers-in-arms…
"Not everyone shares your views," Shisui replied and left the Hokage's office.
He left the Residence and wandered aimlessly through the village. Too much had piled on him that morning. All needed processing.
The Anbu attack didn't surprise Shisui. The Third could feign shock and claim total surprise, but Shisui saw it as logical. Whatever Sandaime Hokage said about Danzou being sidelined and Root disbanded, the organization still made its presence felt. They'd gone underground, and Hiruzen simply ignored his comrade's activities.
But now you won't twitch, Danzou. I let the Hokage know I suspect you. So things will be quiet for a while.
Even if Sarutobi Hiruzen overlooked Danzou, after Shisui's visit, he'd surely address it seriously.
But Sarada's return raised too many questions. The Hokage easily believed it was a Mangekyo technique. No surprise. Little was known about Mangekyo Sharingan even within the clan. Anything could be blamed on it. Thus, Shisui boosted his own value.
A shinobi who controls time… Now they'll link my shunshin to it too, wouldn't put it past them.
Hiruzen believed. But Shisui himself didn't know the full truth. Plus, something about Sarada bothered him.
Something's off with her. She's different.
Shisui sat on a bench, arms over the backrest, head tilted back, watching clouds like cotton scraps drift slowly across the sky. He tried to recall in detail the girl he'd occasionally talked to five-six years ago.
Naive, kind, impressionable. A bit lost, but talented and diligent. Easy to hurt. And now… She calmly asked about the night the Uchiha clan fell. When he answered—nothing changed. Sarada's face stayed pale, gaze empty. She didn't even cry, but the old Sarada would have shed a tear.
She changed after that tragedy. Like Sasuke, like Itachi. Like me.
Barely regaining consciousness after Itachi's Tsukuyomi, Sasuke declared he'd kill his big brother at any cost. The sweet little boy turned into a silent arrogant youth who didn't laugh, smile, or have fun, just nursed revenge in his soul. The fire of hatred in his eyes hadn't dimmed to this day, only matured and intensified.
But in Sarada's eyes, Shisui saw no hatred or desire for revenge against Itachi. Just emptiness. And what that emptiness would fill remained unclear, but the heavy chakra of the little "spy" evoked bad thoughts.
I don't like this.
Biting his lip till it bled, Shisui pondered again.
What did he expect?
A thirteen-year-old girl returns to a district littered with corpses, goes home, sees her uncle finishing off her grandma and grandpa. No normal person stays themselves after that. Shisui tried to calculate, imagine in detail what Sarada felt now.
Gloomy memories of the tragedy had faded a bit, pain dulled. But for Sarada, it was just days ago. Shisui strained to recall himself that day, returning from mission to find only a bloodstain on the kitchen floor instead of his mother. His sensor, Kiochi, had died then too.
Shisui felt like he was falling somewhere. He blamed himself. Out of his mind with rage and despair, he burst into the Hokage's office and yelled, not noticing for a while that his Mangekyo had been active the whole time. Then Kirei…
His chest suddenly went cold.
He recalled that evening with Kirei. Sitting in the kitchen, she said: "Look at me. What's with your eyes?"
Kirei had seen him for the first time after excessive Mangekyo use.
D-damn… Sarada's eyes. No way.
***
Medics said she was recovering, but Sarada didn't feel better. The wound ached with a pulling pain, eyes healed, chakra too. But she still didn't want to live.
There was nothing in this world.
For days, she'd gone mad from her own thoughts. Only Shisui pulled her from that vicious cycle of doubts and guesses—he knew her secret and immediately explained what time she was in.
After that, everything fell into place.
The man in the orange mask really killed her, triggering the long-awaited wave she'd despaired of seeing again.
Lying in bed for days, Sarada made several discoveries. First: the wave didn't come randomly; it was triggered by some catastrophe centered on her, a person from another time. Mass deaths, like the Kyuubi tragedy or Uchiha fall.
Second: after each wave, she got the body she had when touching the stone idol in the future. Her consciousness with memory transferred to her former body, like a prepared vessel the wave generated inexplicably. That's why hand wounds vanished after the first wave. Why she was alive now. And why fighting the bear-masked Anbu was so hard: mental memory transferred, not muscle memory.
The wave saved my life…
Shisui had grown. By her bed day after day sat not the nimble boy or teen, but a young man with broad shoulders and firm gaze. Only his ears were the same, slightly sticking out.
How old was he? Twenty? Twenty-two? What did it matter…
Sarada was puzzled by Shisui's attention, but it didn't melt the ice encasing her wounded soul. She truly didn't care: whether he sat there or not; whether she'd wake next day or not.
She didn't stay long in the hospital. The attending physician insisted on two more weeks, but Shisui, confirming no threat to Sarada's life, declared he was taking her home.
Shisui and Sasuke lived in a new apartment in central Konoha, far from the former Uchiha District, which delighted Sarada—no returning there.
"Two-bedroom apartment," Shisui said as they walked home. "One's mine, other's Sasuke's. I can give you mine."
"Thanks, no need."
"You're sure the living room sofa's comfortable?"
"Quite."
Shisui unlocked the door and let her in.
If grandpa and grandma's home was traditional, Shisui's apartment was modern. Sarada curiously peeked into dad's empty room, Shisui's room, the kitchen…
"Like it?"
"Yes," Sarada admitted. "Better than the district. No… fans."
She shuddered nervously, as from cold or something repulsive.
"What are you going to do, kid?"
Sarada looked at Shisui questioningly.
"What do you mean, Shisui-san?"
"I don't like your chakra."
Fear whistled through Sarada's empty soul like a draft. Shisui wasn't threatening or openly suspicious, but lately she'd treated him dismissively, without former respect, assuming he was pretending to gain trust.
She had no goals or desires, so no will to live. But one thing Sarada knew: alive, she'd pursue her plans—whatever they were—alone, trusting neither blood kin nor fake friends. Trust no one, rely only on herself.
But Shisui, whose help Sarada took for granted, apparently wouldn't tolerate such attitude forever. He was kind and caring, but not simple. Shisui clearly wanted to set things straight once and for all, sensing how twisted her inner world was.
"Sit."
Sarada obediently sank onto the sofa. Shisui sat in the opposite armchair, leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Sarada. I remember your level well. You're capable, but you wouldn't stand against Anbu. Too many ears in the hospital, so I didn't press with questions. But I'm sure—there's something I don't know. Tell me."
Her cheeks flushed.
Shame.
Shisui was the only one reviving feelings she'd grown unaccustomed to. Why fear? Why shame? Shisui was right: hospital's no place for such talks, and the apartment surely had some barriers. Smartest was what they did: discuss at home.
But really, Sarada hadn't planned to share the truth. Her new personality screamed to stay silent—trust no one. Shame belonged to old personality fragments. Too proper, too honest Sarada… Was she still alive, not fully yielding to the new?
Worst—Shisui guessed her plan to stay silent. Clear from his tone on the last word: "Tell me."
He gave no chance to withdraw.
"I know your level. You couldn't beat an Anbu."
No escaping now; Sarada couldn't lie. She sighed, exhaling remnants of shame and fear, and old habit of confiding flared anew.
"Come on, tell him everything. You'll feel better. He knows what to do," habit whispered.
"He thinks of himself first. Learn! Dose info. Don't tell all. Lie. Fight for independence!" emptiness urged.
"Sarada," Shisui's voice held a light threat.
She felt her cheeks burn hotter. New personality retreated, tail tucked, burrowing deep, releasing the tale of that night she was nearly killed the second time. Shisui listened intently, frowning deeper and deeper.
"Stop," he interrupted. "Ceiling collapsed?"
"Y-yes," Sarada stammered.
"How?"
"Not sure exactly."
Shisui eyed her suspiciously.
"It was weird. I felt the room. Don't know how to explain. Just… like touching with my gaze. Felt the ceiling, even though meters away. Even inside…"
"Yeeah," Shisui drawled.
Wariness lingered in his tone. Sarada continued. Shisui rested elbows on knees, laced fingers, chin on them.
"Then he swung the sword for my stomach, but… I felt his heart."
"Felt? Not saw?"
"No. Ceiling might've been illusion, but this—no. I felt it."
Shisui was silent.
"Shisui-san," Sarada asked in a trembling voice. "What's wrong with me?"
After a long pause, he replied:
"That's your Sharingan's power."
"But Sharingan doesn't…"
"You developed all three tomoe? Sarada, three tomoe isn't the limit. There's another level—Mangekyo Sharingan."
"Mangekyo…" Sarada echoed, entranced.
A chill ran down her spine. Something ominous in the word.
Dad has it, right?
"That pain, bloody tears, new technique… You awakened Mangekyo Sharingan. And I don't understand how," Shisui added harshly. "Tell honestly, Sarada. What else don't I know?"
"I… I told everything."
His tone scared.
"You killed someone?"
"N-no."
"Tell truth. I'll keep it secret. Nothing'll happen, just truth."
"Only that Anbu. Not on purpose, it happened, and he struck first… Nothing else, honestly."
"I don't believe. Doesn't happen that way."
"Then it's not Mangekyo!"
"Mangekyo."
"Why don't you believe?"
Shisui activated Sharingan. Sarada recoiled in fear. Tomoe merged into a pattern like a four-pointed shuriken. Sarada, trembling, pressed into the sofa back.
"Because I have this power too and know its cost. Mangekyo Sharingan manifests on madness's edge, when soul pain shatters personality to fragments. Corroding guilt…"
"Yes," Sarada exhaled. "I get it…"
Shisui precisely described what she felt waking in her old body. But… How did he know? He went through it too?
Never would've thought. Such cheerful, light nature. How can someone surviving that stay so… bright?
Compared to old Shisui, this young man was firmer, harsher—not strange for his job and age. But even so, Uchiha Shisui differed from many shinobi; he hadn't shut down or grown callous like her future father.
Sarada realized her feelings for Shisui had changed. "You won't fool me with fake friendliness" gave way to genuine respect. He was strong, smart. Lost many close ones, awakened Mangekyo power, yet stayed himself. The heart's darkness, unsuspected before, didn't repel or distrust. It attracted. External charm and friendliness, making Shisui seem unserious, now contrasted sealed pain and gloom deep inside. That contrast of opposites testified to astonishing spiritual strength and unwavering faith in ideals.
For the first time in days, Sarada felt pride and gratitude that this great man deigned to bother with her, spending time.
"If you're innocent, where's the guilt?" Shisui said coldly. "Not from Anbu kill—you awakened Mangekyo before."
Sarada shrank.
"I get it. Stop, Shisui-san. I'll explain."
Shisui snapped to. Terrifying Mangekyo Sharingan pattern faded, iris black again.
"I'm listening."
"I never told you, but in the future—my future—Uchiha clan doesn't exist."
Sarada met his eyes confidently.
"Me and dad—we're the last."
Shisui covered mouth with palm, rubbed chin thoughtfully, lowered hand, said nothing.
"I told Itachi. We thought everyone dies because of… what was discussed at meetings."
"Got it. Continue."
"See, I hoped if Itachi knew—we could change it, grandma, grandpa all… all live. But opposite happened."
Sarada didn't notice tears flowing.
"My future tales… Did I plant idea clan must be destroyed? Maybe my world's past was different, and I made uncle monster? And I… thought dad died too."
Shisui gazed sadly at carpet.
"Tears… Old Sarada," he smiled faintly. "So that's it. You feel guilty for clan's fall?"
She sniffled and wiped away her tears with her fist. Shisui sighed.
"I'm sorry, I deliberately pushed you. You've shut yourself away, and I wanted to shake you up a bit. In truth, I've long suspected that you've awakened the Mangekyo, improbable as it seemed. The Sharingan awakens in peril—that's its nature. After awakening the Mangekyo, you plunge into darkness in every sense: emotionally and physically. Our bodies can't channel such immense power for long; the eyes wear out, and you go blind. So I'm warning you right now: forget about that power. Don't even think of using it under any circumstances."
"Physical blindness... And emotionally?"
"I've already said it: the power of the Mangekyo awakens on the brink of insanity, from guilt, from losing someone dear. And staying on that brink is nearly impossible. A person deprived of their most precious thing, blaming themselves—capable of anything, and with the Mangekyo power, they become a monster. I managed to hold on. And now I want to keep you from falling. You've already changed, and drastically. The Mangekyo power intoxicates, dictates how you live. It's not easy to resist and not succumb to its influence. Even a normal Sharingan can seize control over a weak person, cloud their mind. That's what happened to the members of our clan... now deceased."
The memory of the district adorned with red-and-white fans made her nauseous again.
"Shisui-san," Sarada choked out bitterly, swallowing tears. "Is our clan cursed?"
"What nonsense," Shisui said firmly.
"The Sharingan is a curse. Isn't it?"
"No, it's not! I don't consider myself cursed."
Sarada looked at him, and Shisui's confident face blurred through the tears pooling in her eyes.
"The Sharingan grants power and dominance, but not everyone can handle that gift. That's life, you know. Full of pain, injustice, losses, and temptations. The Uchiha curse wasn't the Sharingan—it was a lack of strength of spirit, ignorance, greed, and thirst for power. Power like the Sharingan shouldn't fall to such people. But what happened to them isn't your fault or your problem. You need to take care of yourself. Sarada, look into your heart and tell me: are you strong enough to master your own dojutsu?"