I saw it.
Mymother?
Myfather?
Dead.
Their bodies lay before me, unmoving, lifeless—cut down without mercy. The blood beneath them had not yet dried, as if the world itself refused to accept what had happened. My breath caught in my throat, my mind refusing to process what my eyes were screaming at me.
By the hands of Itachi
My brother?
"My foolish little brothers."
His voice echoed—cold, distant, familiar. A voice I had once admired. Once trusted.
The world twisted.
The Mangekyō Sharingan bloomed before me, its presence crushing, overwhelming, divine and monstrous all at once. I knew this. I had seen this before—on a screen, through fiction, through animation.
But this was not fiction.
This was real.
The scene shifted, shattered, and reformed. I saw my clan.
No—what remained of my clan.
Massacred.
Bodies littered the streets of the Uchiha district, their faces frozen in terror, disbelief, pain. Pools of blood reflected the moonlight like broken mirrors. Some begged. Some tried to run. Some died reaching out for help that never came.
Children. Elders. Shinobi. Civilians.
People who used to smile at me every morning. People who greeted me by name. People who argued over trivial matters, who laughed, who lived.
Now they were corpses.
Tsukuyomi did not allow me the mercy of just closing my eyes ignoring it. It forced me closer. Each death replayed in excruciating detail—frozen moments etched directly into my existence. A mother shielding her child. A man trying to run away but died by the blade his face etched on the door as he slid down . A hand trembling as it reached toward a blade that would never be lifted.
Unbelievable.
Unbearable.
This was too much.
How—how could my brother—
No.
He is not—
NOT—
"Ahhh—stop it!"
The scream tore itself from my throat, but it wasn't mine.
I turned my head.
Sasuke.
He was beside me.
My twin.
His face contorted in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks, his small body shaking as the same hell unfolded before him. Before I could move—before I could think—
Darkness.
I was struck down, my consciousness ripped away.
And how I wished—how desperately I wished—that when I opened my eyes, it would all be gone.
That it would be a dream.
A nightmare.
A cruel illusion.
But even as I fell, even as the darkness swallowed me, I knew.
This was real.
This was my new reality.
Because I knew this scene.
I knew it from Naruto.
From an anime.
From fiction.
And yet, absurd as it was, impossible as it sounded—this was no longer a story I was watching.
It was the life I was living.
Somewhere deep within me, another awareness stirred.
Another me.
Connected.
Awakened.
He realized it too.
This wasn't a dream. Not a nightmare. Not hallucination or delusion.
This was the Uchiha Massacre.
And he prayed.
Not to a god.
Not for mercy.
But for one impossible thing.
To go back.
To reverse it all.
To use the knowledge we had—to avert the crisis, one way or another.
---------------------
I woke up.
Air rushed into my lungs as if I had been drowning. My eyes flew open, my body jerking upright as a scream tore out of me—raw, animal, unrestrained.
Memories came flooding in.
Not mine.
Not entirely.
Memories of another me.
A completely different world.
A different life.
Different parents. Different experiences. Different knowledge.
It all came at once.
Too much.
Too fast.
My mind fractured under the weight of it, and I screamed again.
The sound echoed through the room.
Footsteps. Shouts.
The nearby nurses rushed in, alarmed by my sudden awakening. Their hands pressed me down gently but firmly as they tried to calm me, their voices muffled and distant. It took time—long, painful time—for the memories to settle, for the chaos in my mind to quiet enough for me to breathe.
Eventually, I came to my senses.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I turned my head.
Sasuke was beside me.
A thin curtain separated our beds, a flimsy barrier only waiting for the wind to blow it away and break the distance between us that curtain somehow felt heavier than iron. I stared at it, my heart pounding violently in my chest.
I raised my hand.
And pinched my cheek as hard as I could.
Pain.
Sharp. Immediate. Undeniable.
My breath hitched.
The fragile lie I had been clinging to shattered instantly.
This was real.
No matter how much I wanted to deny it—no matter how desperately I wished otherwise—this pain proved it. The reality I knew, the one I refused to accept, crushed me completely.
The doors opened.
The nurses saw me crying.
Not screaming.
Not thrashing.
Just crying.
Because I had accepted it.
I had adapted.
The other me—the reincarnated me—and the child born into this world had merged. There was no separation anymore. No duality.
There was only me.
Shin Uchiha.
Twin brother of Sasuke Uchiha.
And a reincarnator who knew the entire plot of Naruto.
When we were born, my father—Fugaku Uchiha—named my twin brother Sasuke, after the Third Hokage's father.
As for me…
I was named Shin.
Because I was different.
I did not cry when I was born.
I was mature beyond my age.
When I extracted chakra for the first time, it was the highest recorded in the clan.
They called me the genius of this generation.
Of course I was.
There were two souls inside me.
Even if one remained dormant.
I was still second to Sasuke in the academy—deliberately so.
But in ninjutsu?
I was better.
The nurses eventually left, their expressions uneasy. They went to inform someone.
I already knew who.
The Third Hokage.
One of the primary reasons the Uchiha Massacre ever happened.
The nurses were just civilians not even a trace of knowledge on shinobi tactis such that even as an academy student. Slipping away was easy.
I left the hospital.
I knew Sasuke would do the same—sneak out, desperate to confirm whether it was a nightmare or reality.
As I walked through the Uchiha clan grounds, the trauma hit me in waves. Every step felt unreal, like I was moving through a graveyard that refused to acknowledge its own death.
I kept walking.
Like a ghost.
Until I reached my home.
I wanted to go to the Uchiha secret meeting place—but my legs refused to move. My heart dragged me elsewhere.
Inside.
There it was.
The outline of my parents' bodies, drawn in chalk.
I removed the tatami mats soaked in their blood.
Not to forget.
But for one vain, desperate hope.
If I ever mastered Edo Tensei…
I took the mats to the secret meeting place and left them there.
I had many emotions.
Anger.
Grief.
Hatred.
I considered Fugaku an idiot—someone who possessed the Mangekyō Sharingan and still failed to stop Itachi.
And Itachi himself—idiot number two.
A double agent. A bridge between Konoha and the Uchiha who saw both sides and chose the most idiotic option the genius hailed to have the mentality of a kage at a young age.
Honestly one idiot bigger than the other
But despite everything…
I forgave them.
My true wrath lay elsewhere.
"DANZO."
I screamed it into the empty night.
He was the darkness of Konoha.
The leader of Root.
The man you could blame for almost everything—and be correct.
Obito was a pawn.
Zetsu was a manipulator.
But Danzo?
Danzo was rot.
If an award for pure evil existed in Naruto, it would be named after him.
Runner-up: Zetsu or obito.
"I'm sorry, Sasuke. In the future, you killed Danzo. But now… he's mine."
He died too easily.
Death would be mercy.
I would torture him.
Break him.
Erase Root before his eyes.
What Kakashi suffered under Tsukuyomi would look like a joke.
I would be his worst nightmare.
And his only salvation.
The only one who could grant him death.
I would make him starve for it.
Beg for it.
And I would not even let his soul survive.
I know of it jutsus that target the soul
When Uchiha experience extreme emotion, a special chakra floods their eyes.
One tomoe.
Then another.
Then the third.
A ring formed.
It began to spin.
One turn.
Two.
Eight.
The Mangekyō Sharingan was born.
Its form—
The Dharmachakra.
The Eight-Handed wheel
And its abilities
Adaptation:after 8 instances of seeing that attack or jutsus be adapted to it
Reversal: reverse any effect albeit temporarily till the reversal is active or if the jutsu affects even after reversal or ignores reversal
Sussano form : Mahoraga