The heavenly screen flicked like pages in a gale, no longer fixed on any single moment; it showed only the passage of time and the growth of two boys.
On one side, Naruto trained under Jiraiya's eye, pushing himself past every limit.
Cliff-climbing, water-walking, perfecting the Rasengan—each failure and stubborn retry stretched him taller, stripped the last softness from his face, and left his gaze clear and unwavering.
On the other side stood Sasuke in Orochimaru's gloom-wrapped compound.
His drills were brutal and direct: bloody duels, drug-soaked agony, and the constant fight to master the cursed seal.
His aura grew colder by the day, the frost in his eyes thickening; the Sharingan spun three tomoe with eerie, effortless grace.
At last, a pivotal hour arrived.
The scene cut to a dim chamber latticed with seals.
Orochimaru—the man who had coveted an Uchiha body for years—finally lost patience and struck.
A white serpent burst from his ruined shell, greedy and certain, lunging to perform the Living Corpse Reincarnation and claim the perfect vessel.
Yet in that razor-thin instant—
Sasuke, seated with eyes shut, snapped them open!
Three tomoe blazed, their uncanny light boring straight into Orochimaru's pupils.
"Gah—!"
A shrill scream tore through the heavenly screen.
The great snake slammed against an invisible wall; every thought, every shred of Chakra melted the moment it met those Sharingan.
All his schemes, all his years of preparation, looked pitiful before the supreme ocular power of the Uchiha bloodline.
In the genjutsu space the screen showed Orochimaru's mind being ripped apart by Sasuke with contemptuous ease, then bound and devoured by countless serpents that were once his own symbols of control.
One of the legendary Sannin, the plotter Orochimaru, was annihilated at the height of his triumph by the very "prey" he had reared—crushed by strength and will.
Outside the Akatsuki lair in the real world
Orochimaru watched his own miserable defeat and sealing on the heavenly screen; his golden slits shrank to needle points and his face darkened like thunder.
He had foreseen the chance, yet seeing himself powerless beneath a three-tomoe Sharingan flooded him with humiliation, rage, and a deeper, hungrier greed.
"Uchiha… Sharingan…" he hissed, tongue flicking unconsciously over his lips, eyes blazing hotter and more dangerous than ever.
"Truly… the perfect power… but to make me so… undignified!"
He was Orochimau the Sannin!
A legend who had roamed the Ninja World for decades!
And on the heavenly screen he looked so… pathetic?
The thought galled him, steeling his resolve to obtain the Sharingan no matter the cost.
Not far away, Uchiha Itachi watched his little brother finish Orochimaru and quietly exhaled—though his eyes stayed ice-cold.
Having slain Orochimaru and absorbed a share of his strength, Uchiha Sasuke did not pause.
The flame of vengeance roared higher inside him.
He knew that alone he could never match the unfathomable man named Uchiha Itachi.
Using intelligence and resources looted from Orochimaru's bases, he began to seek out and recruit companions with unique gifts.
At last he formed a unit centered on himself—"Eagle Squad."
The heavenly screen flashed brief images:
Suigetsu eyeing the Executioner's Blade and signing on;
Karin following Sasuke with near-worship and lending her powerful sensory and healing skills;
Jugo's berserker strength brought to heel by Sasuke's cursed seal and turned into a weapon.
This squad of Rogue Ninja and outcasts had one purpose and one only: to serve Sasuke's revenge.
They moved through the shadows of the Ninja World, gathering every scrap of data on the Akatsuki and on Uchiha Itachi.
The hidden villages wasted no time dispatching intelligence teams to profile Eagle Squad.
This was Sasuke's future elite unit; every member was valuable—better to recruit one than fight one.
Meanwhile Uzumaki Naruto refused to fall behind.
Under Jiraiya's tutelage and through his own effort he rocketed forward, tackling high-risk missions until his name echoed across the lands.
The threads of fate crossed again.
On one assignment Kakashi's team—Naruto included—ran headlong into Eagle Squad, also on a reconnaissance mission.
Years had passed since the two last stood face to face.
Naruto had grown steadier and stronger, the fire in his eyes undimmed.
He looked at Sasuke, voice shaking with hope: "Sasuke! Come back with me! Everyone's worried about you!"
But Sasuke's aura now was colder and sharper than it had even been at the Valley of the End.
Standing before Suigetsu, Karin, and Jugo like an unsheathed blade, he radiated a warning no one could miss.
He regarded Naruto with distant eyes, as though looking at a stranger still struggling to catch up.
"Naruto, you haven't changed at all," he said, tone flat and remote. "I told you—I won't turn back. Not until I've killed that man."
"Why? Aren't we friends?" Naruto shouted in anguish.
"Friends?" A thin, mocking smile curved Sasuke's lips. "That word is a luxury to me now—no, a burden."
He said nothing more; he did not even bother to fight.
In his eyes Naruto, though stronger, still knew nothing of the abyss he walked and could offer no power worth his vengeance.
The distance between them had not closed—it had widened into a chasm carved by different paths and desires.
The meeting ended as all the others had: in stale silence.
Under Sasuke's command Eagle Squad vanished like ghosts, avoiding open battle with the Konoha team.
Naruto stood motionless, fists clenched so hard his nails drew blood as he watched Sasuke leave without a backward glance.
He had failed again.
He had not brought Sasuke home.
He had not even made him hesitate.
Across the Ninja World, viewers of the heavenly screen watched with heavy hearts: they saw Naruto's unyielding devotion and pain, and they saw Sasuke marching ever deeper into the dark, beyond reach.