The Land of Grass.
The war between Iwagakure and Konohagakure had long reached its most intense phase. The battlefields were nothing but scorched, blood-soaked wastelands, riddled with corpses and the scars of relentless ninjutsu.
From Iwa's initial deep incursion, to a protracted stalemate, followed by Konoha's counteroffensive, and then back again to deadlock—this drawn-out war of attrition saw the front lines shifting constantly. Now, the main theater of conflict had returned to where it all began: near the Kannabi Bridge.
Beyond the bridge, several other locations had become flashpoints—Asakawa Town, Itano Village, and even Kusagakure itself. The renowned Heaven and Earth Bridge had also turned into a battleground.
The churned soil exposed dark brown earth steeped in the metallic stench of blood—so deeply absorbed that the scent lingered like rust on iron.
Konoha and Iwa had fought here for months, countless ninja lost to the war. Even the river under the Kannabi Bridge now ran red with blood.
Several white-cloaked figures stood silently atop tree branches, gazing down at the brutal battlefield below.
"Who would've thought Konoha and Iwa would come to blows like this…"
Both Ōnoki and Hiruzen Sarutobi were cunning, ruthless leaders who rarely gambled on open war. For them to fight so fiercely was no small thing.
"Iwa thinks Konoha is on its last legs, just one push away from victory. And Konoha—trapped, cornered—has nothing to lose. They're fighting like it's their last stand. It's no surprise things got this intense."
"If anything, our own battle with Konoha was worse—bodies completely obliterated, terrain reshaped."
"Hey, Yagura—weren't you the Third Mizukage's chosen heir? After losing to Yoru, you're really working for him now? Even calling him 'Mizukage-sama'...?"
The speaker wore a white mask and bandages over his neck and ears. He didn't wear standard Kirigakure gear, but a simple shinobi battle suit. On his left shoulder was a wooden badge engraved with the kanji for 'Eleven' and the Gotei 13's saw-grass emblem.
"Don't tell me you're pretending to be loyal just to stab the current Mizukage in the back later."
"Ridiculous."
Short in stature but draped in a white haori with the character 'Thirteen' on the back, Yagura answered coldly.
"If you can raise your blade against Yoru in your current state, I'll support you becoming the Fifth Mizukage."
"Tch. I'm just a weapon. I have no interest in that title."
"Enough talk."
Another masked figure, clad in a white haori marked 'Two', spoke in a low voice. "Begin the operation."
"Oh? Captain, you're really going to move against the souls of your old comrades? Starting just like that—are you sure you're fine with it?"
The teasing tone came from a spiky-haired blond man in black, fluffy bandages wrapped around his neck. On his left shoulder was a wooden badge engraved with the kanji for 'Two' and an Old Man's Beard crest.
"…"
The boy in the white haori slowly raised his head. Though hidden behind a special mask, the pressure radiating from him was unmistakable—silent and suffocating.
"Hiss... Alright, alright, I'll shut up."
"Deploy the Soul Gathering Devices."
"Yes, sir!"
The team scattered, disappearing into different corners of the battlefield.
Their clothing was striking—especially the haori-clad captains. Such garments, akin to ceremonial Kage robes, would have been absurdly conspicuous for ordinary shinobi. Yet, even elite detection techniques like the Byakugan couldn't detect them.
Silently, they reappeared across the battlefield, setting up specialized soul-collection devices—tools designed to harvest the souls of the recently deceased within a set radius. These were among Yoru's main means of acquiring souls.
"Konoha and Iwa really are going at it."
"I heard that when Yoru fought Konoha, he froze their entire outposts. Wonder if those ice statues have thawed yet…"
Vice-Captain Jūzō Biwa of Squad 11 muttered while securing a soul device inside a massive tree. Suddenly, something caught his eye—a clearing not far away.
There, a small child stood panting, clutching a bloodstained kunai.
Before him lay a fallen Iwa genin, blood pooling from a slit throat, his body twitching in its final spasms.
The boy steadied his breath, sheathed his kunai, and began forming hand seals. Jūzō watched in stunned silence as a fireball burst from the boy's mouth, incinerating the enemy's corpse.
The flames consumed the body—and as the soul escaped, it was instantly drawn into Jūzō's device.
But Jūzō didn't watch the soul. His eyes were locked on the black-haired, black-eyed boy.
"…That young, and already capable of this? A Konoha prodigy."
"It's already winter. Places like Higashimatsuyama are near the coast—cold and frigid. Those ice statues won't melt anytime soon."
The calm voice came from behind.
Jūzō turned to find Captain Shisui of Squad 2 standing there in his white haori, eyes narrowing behind his mask.
"I see… Thanks for the reminder, Captain Shisui."
"No need. I'll handle this area. You cover the other side."
"Oh?"
Jūzō looked between the boy and Shisui. "Well, if Captain Shisui insists, I've got no objections. Just… try not to get too emotional."
"…I don't need you to tell me how to handle things."
"Of course. After all, Mizukage-sama's placed great expectations on Squad 2's captain."
Jūzō smiled faintly. "Then I'll leave this area to you."
As Jūzō's form faded into the air under light-bending camouflage, Shisui finally turned to look at the boy—cleaning up the signs of combat below.
His eyes behind the mask grew somber.
"…It's been a while, Itachi."
No one was closer to Uchiha Itachi than Shisui. He had practically watched the boy grow up.
And now, just a few months later, Itachi was already deployed to the front lines.
That was hard to accept.
No matter how talented he was—even if he was the most gifted child Shisui had ever seen—he was still just four. One misstep, one stray explosion, and his life could be snuffed out in an instant.
"You did well, Itachi!"
A familiar voice snapped Shisui from his thoughts. A man he knew all too well now stood beside Itachi.
"To take down an Iwa genin at just four years old—your talent is nearly unmatched!"
Uchiha Fugaku beamed with pride as he patted his son's shoulder. "You really are my son."
"Father."
But Itachi showed no joy at the praise. He shook his head.
"My fight was clumsy. There were major flaws in my shurikenjutsu, and I had to resort to close combat. At my age, I can't match a ten-year-old genin physically. If he hadn't slipped up and given me an opening, I'd be the one lying on the ground."
Fugaku's pride only deepened.
He ruffled Itachi's hair with a warm smile. "You're only four, and you haven't even awakened your Sharingan. What you've done is already incredible."
"As a reward for your first solo kill…"
He retrieved a scroll and drew out a ninja blade, offering it to his son.
"Here. It's yours."
"Thank you, Father!"
Fugaku laughed heartily, wanting to praise his son a bit more, but he seemed to sense something, and his expression suddenly became serious.
"What is it, Father?"
"I've detected something. Summoning Jutsu!"
A puff of smoke, and a white ninja cat appeared before them, roughly the size of Itachi.
"You need intel, Fugaku? You know my rate—ten servings of cat food minimum, nya."
"Twenty."
Fugaku vanished instantly, his voice lingering: "Take Itachi back to camp."
"Looks like something serious is up, nya," the cat muttered, licking its paw. "Come on, Itachi. If a fight breaks out, we don't want to be anywhere near it."
The cat quickly left with Itachi, while Fugaku pursued the figure who had deliberately revealed himself.
Kunai clashed with kunai, and a Zanpakutō crossed with a ninja blade.
In that split second, Fugaku felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity—the style, the rhythm—it was unmistakable.
"Who are you?!"
Shisui didn't answer. He kept moving. Fugaku chased, his three-tomoe Sharingan spinning rapidly, trying to read the truth behind that white haori.
They dashed through the forest, Fugaku pressing for answers, Shisui remaining silent.
At last, Fugaku's patience snapped. The three tomoe in his eyes fused into a new shape.
Feeling the surge of ocular power, Shisui halted. He turned—only to meet the unmistakable pattern of the Mangekyō Sharingan in Fugaku's eyes.
"…Mangekyō Sharingan."
Their chase ended in a clearing.
Fugaku stared at him. "We're far enough from the battlefield now."
"Your taijutsu and shurikenjutsu earlier—pure Uchiha technique. You can't hide that from my eyes. Who are you, really?"
"You used your Mangekyō just to unmask me? That's not like you, Clan Head Fugaku."
The voice beneath the mask was hoarse—on purpose.
Still… he refused to reveal himself.
Fugaku's eyes narrowed. He already had a guess.
That precision Uchiha fighting style, the speed, the sheer familiarity—it all pointed to one man.
"Is this just coincidence… or something more? If you won't tell me, then…"
Fugaku's left Mangekyō spun. Blood-tears slid down his cheek.
Suddenly, Shisui felt the world twist—the sky and earth turned to black and white, everything growing blurred.
Above, a massive Mangekyō Sharingan loomed like a blood-red moon—the only light in this grayscale world.
Its pattern mirrored Fugaku's: a three-bladed shuriken, each tip marked with a black dot.
"…So this is your left eye's ability. Such powerful genjutsu…"
"What you should be doing now isn't marveling at my power."
Fugaku's cold voice echoed from all around.
"Take off the mask. Tell me everything that's happened these past few months. I'll give you one chance, Uchiha Shisui."
"…"
Shisui shook his head.
"Stubborn fool."
"In that case, let me make you personally experience the legendary power of the Uchiha!"
Fugaku's voice rang with righteous fury. The blood moon above burned brighter. The world grew darker—as if everything was being swallowed by that crimson eye in the sky.
Even the light around Shisui began to fade.
But in the next moment, an invisible force burst from within him.
The illusion cracked.
The entire world shattered.
Fugaku gasped, staggering back. His left eye throbbed in agony.
A genjutsu rebound?! Impossible! This is the Mangekyō Sharingan!
"…What just—"
"My identity doesn't matter," the voice from behind the mask said.
"There is no Uchiha Shisui in this world anymore."
The voice was unmistakable.
Fugaku's suspicions were confirmed.
Only someone with Mangekyō-level ocular power could have shattered his genjutsu.
He really is the one I placed all my hopes on—the Uchiha's greatest genius…
But Shisui's words made his heart clench tightly.
"Shisui, what the hell happened to you…"
PS: Read Advance Chapters at https://www.patreon.com/c/ReadJin