On the outskirts of Konoha, the night wind howled, carrying with it a biting chill.
Uchiha Obito stood atop a windswept ridge, gazing down at the sleeping village. Its dim lights flickered like dying embers, a fragile illusion of peace. But within him, unease churned like a storm—restless and heavy. The longer he held Uchiha Gen's Mangekyō Sharingan, the more certain he felt: taking those eyes had been a grave mistake.
A figure emerged from the shadows below—slender, calm, yet visibly exhausted. It was Uchiha Itachi. His gait was heavy, and fatigue clung to him like a second skin.
Obito's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Took your time," he said with cold derision.
Itachi didn't look up. "There were complications," he replied softly.
"Are the clan's affairs… resolved?" Obito pressed.
Itachi nodded. "It's done."
A tense silence hung between them, like a blade unsheathed.
Obito's gaze lingered on Itachi before shifting to the bottle concealed within his cloak. His fingers brushed over it, the contents pulsing faintly—a pair of Mangekyō Sharingan, their aura still sinister, even without light.
"I have a question," Obito said suddenly. "Do you know a man named Uchiha Gen?"
Itachi blinked, faint surprise crossing his features. "I've heard the name. A desk officer in the Military Police. Rumor was… he never even awakened his Sharingan."
Obito gave a hollow chuckle, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't awaken his eyes?" He reached into his cloak and pulled out the glass container.
Under the moonlight, Gen's Mangekyō glowed faintly, their presence oppressive—like cursed relics.
"You're telling me this came from someone who never awakened his Sharingan?"
Itachi's gaze flickered toward the bottle. For a moment, something unreadable passed through his eyes. "Those… are his?" he asked quietly.
Obito scoffed. "Apparently. Hidden behind paperwork all these years, and no one knew what kind of power he possessed." He said it bitterly, not mentioning the overwhelming dread he'd felt when Gen unleashed his final jutsu.
Nor did he mention how close he had come to being caught in it.
Now, still playing the role of the enigmatic Uchiha Madara, Obito kept his voice steady and aloof. "Even with eyes like these, he was nothing special. I ended him easily."
Itachi said nothing. He simply observed, his silence thick with calculation. He knew there were lies woven into Obito's words, but chose not to expose them.
After a long pause, Itachi finally asked, "What was the ability of his Mangekyō?"
Obito stilled. A low laugh escaped him. He toyed with the bottle again, and then glanced sideways at Itachi.
"Tell me, Itachi… what is your wish? To see Sasuke grow into a fine shinobi of the Hidden Leaf?"
Itachi didn't respond.
Tch.
Why wasn't Itachi falling for it?
Obito's smile behind the mask faltered. He could feel the word-binding effect trying to latch onto Itachi… and failing due to a lack of response.
He snapped the bottle shut with irritation and stuffed it back into his cloak. "Fine. Keep your secrets. Your wish means nothing to me anyway."
Still, Itachi didn't move. But in that stillness, he felt something. The moment Obito had asked, an unseen pressure had pressed down on him. His Mangekyō tingled. Deep in his chest, an instinctive dread stirred.
It felt as if the eyes inside that bottle were staring back—as if Gen's power wasn't gone, but waiting.
Watching.
The very moon above seemed to bleed crimson.
A chill ran down Itachi's spine.
Obito turned away with a scoff, letting the silence settle again. The wind picked up, carrying with it the distant cries of the dying Uchiha clan.
That night, both men stood in silence—bound by secrets, haunted by choices.
Later, Obito brought Itachi to the Akatsuki base hidden deep within the Land of Fire.
"This is it," Obito said curtly. "The Akatsuki base."
He ushered Itachi inside and vanished down a separate corridor. He moved quickly, his cloak brushing the damp stone walls as he sought out a particular presence.
"Black Zetsu."
From the shadows, the dark, twisted figure emerged. "You're back," it said calmly. "I assume the Uchiha purge is complete?"
Obito didn't answer immediately. His breath was heavy, mind racing.
"I encountered someone. A man named Uchiha Gen. Before he died… he triggered a jutsu unlike anything I've ever seen. A vision—no, a prophecy—of the entire world ending."
Black Zetsu narrowed its eyes. "What kind of jutsu?"
Obito retrieved the Mangekyō Sharingan once more and described everything: the sensation of space collapsing, the image of a world-ending collision, and the haunting vision of a dying planet falling from the stars.
At first, Black Zetsu dismissed it as delusion.
But then he saw the eyes—felt them.
And he understood.
There was truth in Gen's final moments.
A deep, ancient truth.
Without hesitation, Zetsu began searching the records he held from the era of Kaguya Ōtsutsuki. He remembered the sealed Lunar passage to the Moon—a remnant of the Ōtsutsuki Clan—and a place where the celestial tides could be observed.
Within days, Black Zetsu infiltrated the Moon.
Staying hidden from Toneri's watch, he reached the ancient observation altar and looked skyward.
His breath caught.
There, looming at the edge of visibility, was a titanic planet—blackened, burning with strange, flickering flames.
It moved silently, but its presence was suffocating.
A celestial harbinger of extinction.
"Damn it," he muttered. "There really is a planet…"
The surface of the celestial body shimmered with cursed energy, as if alive—drawn by fate to the very world below.
Based on its trajectory, it would make impact within a month or two.
Zetsu's eyes narrowed, a terrible realization settling in:
Uchiha Gen hadn't just seen the future.
He had triggered it.
Location: Inner Moon, Ōtsutsuki Sanctuary
The silent halls of the ancient Moon palace shimmered faintly, bathed in the cold light of the stars. Within its heart, Toneri Ōtsutsuki stood alone before the great Celestial Mirror — an ancient artifact built by Hamura's kin to observe the Earth from afar.
The polished surface had been still for years.
Until now.
It pulsed with an unnatural rhythm. A ripple. Then another. The mirror's glow intensified as its gaze turned toward the skies — beyond Earth's orbit, into the void.
And then it came into view.
A dark, massive celestial body — unlike any comet or star Toneri had ever studied. It surged across the heavens like a bleeding wound in space, its surface seething with shifting flame and hardened crust, trailing debris like a cloak of ruin.
Toneri's breath caught.
"…What is that?"
The mirror zoomed in. Toneri stepped forward, empty eyes narrowing as the image grew clearer. It wasn't just rock and flame — it was controlled. Like it was being drawn toward Earth with purpose.
Drawn by design.
A slow, fascinated smile formed on his lips.
"So… it begins."
He folded his arms behind his back, eyes fixed on the image, almost reverent — but not in worship. In recognition.
"This world... it's repeating the cycle again. Hatred. Power. Exploitation under the name of peace."
His voice grew quieter.
"Great Ancestor Hamura... you left me to watch over this Earth, to judge if it could sustain harmony without the guidance of our clan. But they've strayed too far. They ignore your legacy. They reject the truth of chakra."
He turned slightly, glancing at the ancient wall carvings depicting Hamura and Hagoromo — one entrusted with the Moon, the other with Earth.
"Hagoromo believed in change through understanding... but he also left them tools of destruction. The Tailed Beasts. Chakra. Ninshū. And what did they do? Turned it into ninjutsu — weapons."
His hand tightened into a fist.
"Perhaps this was inevitable."
He turned back to the image — the planet, no longer distant, was accelerating. It was coming.
Not a natural disaster.
A message.
A verdict.
"I thought it would be me who would deliver judgment. That I would be the one to erase this corrupted shinobi system and rebuild the world in the name of Hamura. But…"
His expression was unreadable.
"…maybe someone else got tired of waiting."
He stared in silence, the image of the oncoming planet reflecting in his pale eyes.
He didn't feel fear.
He felt clarity.
"Hamura… is this what you foresaw? Did we ever stand a chance of correcting this world from within?"
He slowly turned from the mirror.
The Earth had little time left. And Toneri would await its impending Annihilation.