Summer was drawing to a close, time was running out, and Shisui still hadn't returned from his mission. Now Itachi was already doubting whether he wanted his return as much as before, and he no longer sent ravens. Shisui would never allow him to harm the clan, and in a deadly clash with him, Itachi would definitely lose. He didn't want to fight his best friend. Itachi understood that he was betraying him with his choice, but still... On the border with Mist, Shisui was safe. He would survive. At least him. But if he survived, then why were Sasuke and his daughter the last Uchihas in the future? Did that mean Shisui would die, or did Sarada simply not know everything?
Itachi accepted Danzou's offer and took command of Root. For all these months, he had been watching the Uchiha and investigating how far their rebellion plan had progressed. He didn't attend meetings, but that didn't stop him from gathering the freshest information. The rebellion plan was ready, had been sitting on Itachi's desk for a long time, and he had studied it inside and out. A foolishly arrogant plan with no chance of success.
Itachi made one last attempt to stop his clan from taking this reckless step. He took a deep breath, opened the door in the temple basement leading to the meeting hall, and stepped inside. Everyone turned to him.
"What are you doing here?" Yashiro's voice rang out.
He was sitting in the leader's seat. Itachi scanned the hall. Izumi sat against the far wall. Neither her father nor Sarada were at the meeting. Itachi had forbidden them from appearing at the temple.
"I've come to talk."
"You're a bit late to wise up," Inabi said, standing.
The basement of the temple's main building fell deathly quiet. Itachi met Izumi's gaze. She looked at him as if she were about to burst into tears.
"Stop this madness."
"What are you talking about?" Inabi raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"The rebellion."
A terrible uproar erupted.
"You don't even come to meetings. Your words won't change anything."
"The village isn't as harmless as you think."
"We know that, brat. Unlike you, we're not kids anymore."
How arrogant. You can't even imagine how far you are from me.
"You'll lose."
"Get out of here," Yashiro spat through clenched teeth.
Itachi didn't obey. He continued standing in the temple doorway.
"Get out!"
But hatred and rage didn't touch Itachi at all.
"Do you really believe you can win?" he asked calmly.
"Pup..." Inabi exhaled. "You have no idea what it's like when your life is empty and you just have to endure. Endure until you die."
Itachi felt a surge of sharp pity.
"If your life is empty, then change it. Find something to fill it with."
"That's exactly what we're trying to do!" Yashiro roared. "They've been oppressing us since Konoha was founded. We have no future, but our generation will change that. We want the future to belong at least to our children and grandchildren!"
"How don't you understand? By relying on this idiotic plan, you're taking away your children's future instead. Any future!"
"How much more do you need, Itachi? When will you finally get your fill and stop coming to meetings to try to make us look like idiots?" Tekka asked. "No matter how talented you are, you've gotten too full of yourself. You betrayed your own father. We're sure you had a hand in
Not tears — blood.
...
When he stepped out of Izumi's house, having finished off her mother, Uchiha Madara materialized before him.
"Looking at it, you've already started."
Itachi didn't respond: he couldn't speak. He desperately gathered his shattered soul piece by piece to overcome the sudden weakness and still complete the mission. The Sharingan, which had activated idly over Izumi's body, had consumed a startling amount of chakra.
"I'll get rid of the women and children, as many as I can manage," Madara said.
The calm voice of his accomplice was irritating.
"No. You'll start from the east, and I'll start from the west," Itachi forced out, struggling to give his voice firmness. "As agreed."
"Don't overexert yourself."
"Shut up."
"You're still a child. If the darkness in your heart gets too thick, you won't endure it."
Itachi hated realizing that Madara was right. And proof of that was the weakness throughout his body and the trembling in his limbs, which he couldn't control no matter what. He turned around. Madara's facial expression was hidden by the orange mask, but his figure was surrounded by an aura of death. This one wouldn't break. This one would endure.
"No need to worry."
"I'm not worried. I'm just rationally distributing our forces. I possess spatial Ninjutsu, so it's more logical for me to eliminate the women and children before the cries for help and commotion wake up the men. Don't you think?"
"Do what you want."
Sasuke would be back from the academy soon. He needed to finish the mission in time. No time to argue.
"We'll meet when it's all over."
Madara dissolved into the air.
Itachi took a deep breath and tilted his head back. The starry sky, peace. For everyone in the village, but not for him or the Uchiha clan. He closed his eyes and listened to the darkness that had nested in his heart. Peering into that black gloom, Itachi sought his next victim.
...
He stepped into the house. At the far end of the corridor, a single chakra source was visible.
"Chakra is raging throughout the district. So this is your doing, Uchiha Itachi?"
Tekka was an excellent sensor. He wielded his dojutsu excellently even compared to other Uchihas.
"But you're here... Then why is the chakra still churning?"
"Now's not the time for questions."
"Yes. I see."
"If you sensed something was wrong, why didn't you come out to help the others?"
"I was going to, but you beat me to it."
Tekka caught his gaze. Itachi calmly accepted into his pupils the wave of chakra meant to plunge him into genjutsu. Nothing happened. Tekka, puzzled that his technique hadn't worked, changed expression.
"This is... Impossible! M-Mangekyo..."
He saw the pattern. Interesting, what's mine like? Not like Shisui's?
In an instant, Itachi was beside the officer and thrust his sword into his stomach. Tekka fell to his knees, staring at him in horror. Itachi leaned over him, brought his face close to the sweat-covered one, and said harshly:
"You always had a bad habit of underestimating your opponent."
With a sharp motion, he yanked the sword out, and Tekka collapsed heavily to the floor. Blood spread across the tatami mat, but not a drop got on Itachi. This was ninja etiquette — not to stain yourself with the blood of the slain.
"Itachi..." Tekka forced out with his last strength. "They won't forgive you..."
The last breath, and the former officer went still. Life left him. Itachi sheathed the sword on his back.
I'm not expecting forgiveness.
The former weakness was gone like a hand waving it away. Everyone has a limit. Step beyond it — and all feelings shut off, and Itachi had already gone far beyond his sensitivity threshold. The shattered soul formed an icy crust and turned to stone. Itachi burst into strangers' homes, killed unarmed men who weren't expecting the attack, frightened women and children his accomplice hadn't reached yet, and felt nothing: no sympathy, no pity, no guilt. An abyss unfolded in the cooled soul, a black hole that absorbed any emotions and turned them to ice. He didn't even hold in his mind the thought that this was all for the good of the village. He simply wielded the sword purposefully, taking lives. Itachi felt not like a shinobi, but like a butcher at a slaughterhouse.
A stranger's home. Familiar-to-someone smells of cooked dinner and homey comfort. A barefoot man pressed his back against the wall and lay in wait for Itachi. But the Sharingan allowed him to see the chakra source to the right of the door; the victim's plan failed. Itachi stepped into the room and kicked the man lunging at him back to the shoji. The flimsy paper-door construction broke under the weight of the heavy body. The sword whistled through the air, and blood splashed onto the white canvas of the torn paper.
The next room. The housewife, speechless with horror, pressed her back against the stove. Itachi caught her in genjutsu and thrust the sword into her heart. He went up to the second floor. The child, a little older than Sasuke, didn't even wake up; he died instantly.
Next was Yashiro's house. Itachi entered the entryway and saw on the floor in a pool of blood the corpse of a black-haired girl. Madara had already been at work here. But on the second floor, someone's chakra was felt — not Yashiro's. In the dark room, clutching a kunai in each hand, a young genin awaited him.
Where have I seen you? Right. That time when the patrol was harassing Sasuke and Sarada, this guy tried to protect her. Tried poorly.
Itachi deactivated the Sharingan, giving his eyes time to recover a bit. Michi struck with his right hand, left... Even without using dojutsu, Itachi easily dodged his attacks, intercepted the opponent's kunai, and took them for himself.
Too slow.
An elbow strike to the solar plexus threw the boy back against the bed frame.
"Where's the head?"
"Who?" the kid gasped out, choking.
"The clan head. Yashiro. Where is he?"
"I don't know."
Itachi punched him in the stomach and looked into his eyes again. No, this one really didn't know. He swung to kill Michi.
"So that's what you're like," the boy said through the pain, grimacing, "Sarada's stepbrother."
Itachi raised the seized kunai hand but stopped an inch from his victim's throat.
"What?"
"You look alike. I don't know how, but..."
Fear of death swirled in Michi's slanted eyes mixed with some incomprehensible feeling, as if in his final hour he had gained insight and realized something very important to himself.
Itachi, who for an hour now had felt nothing in his chest but vacuum, broke out in cold sweat.
We look alike.
"Outwardly?"
"Not just that," Michi said, holding his breath, glancing at the kunai at his neck. "In everything."
Itachi, gritting his teeth, slit his throat. Michi choked on blood, futilely trying to breathe.
In everything. Could you really imagine Sarada taking your life just as coldly?
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Itachi instantly activated dojutsu. A shadow flashed in the doorway slit and, noticing the dying nephew and the killer over him, bolted. Stumbling, it tumbled down the stairs in a few bounds, burst out onto the street, and fled from its executioner across the playground in the nearest park. A white-haired man, Uchiha Yashiro.
Itachi pursued his victim. Yashiro backed away, tripping over his own feet and clutching at the swing supports with his hands. He thrashed about the playground with such desperation...
How pathetic you are. And they chose you as leader instead of my father?
Yashiro stumbled and sprawled on the sand. Itachi drew his sword from its sheath and announced in an icy tone:
"Surrender."
Yashiro trembled.
"Y-you won't... It won't help. It's pointless to kill me. There's another leader; even Fugaku-taicho didn't know about him. They controlled me."
"Gods, even now you lack the courage to take responsibility. The Uchiha clan head cowers behind others' backs. How... pathetic!"
Instead of defending the remnants of the clan, the leader begged a boy for the right to live, whom he had recently shamefully expelled from the meeting.
"You have to believe me! It's all..."
Madara materialized beside Itachi.
"You?!" Yashiro blurted out in disbelief.
"Hm, long time no see. A couple of days, right?" Madara said.
Yashiro shook violently.
"But why?!"
"Itachi, you called me for this nonsense?"
They had agreed that if necessary, Itachi would release chakra, and Madara would appear beside him in an instant. Itachi used this trick to show Yashiro the real state of affairs.
"I simply chose Itachi, not you. That's all," Madara said. "Uh, all I can advise you... try fighting for your life."
"W-wait..."
"Alright, Itachi, finish it here yourself. I'm going back to work."
He vanished, sucking his body into the mask's opening. Itachi tilted his head, looking at the fear-shaking Yashiro.
"I... I... w-will stop... We'll stop the rebellion! It'll be how you want."
"Trying to save your ass?"
"Please, Itachi! Uchiha Itachi!"
Yashiro looked maximally pathetic. If he hadn't gone along with Madara and returned the clan to the path of rebellion, Shisui's plan would have worked. It all would have ended peacefully. In Itachi's empty soul, which had carved out a good part of his clan, a strong icy hatred boiled, along with a previously unfamiliar thirst for murder. He had never wanted to kill. He killed on orders, out of necessity, overriding his kind nature, and the desire to inflict unearthly suffering on a person was new to him.
"Stand up," he commanded.
Yashiro's narrow eyes widened as much as possible.
"You're a shinobi," Itachi continued impassively. "Stand up and fight, damn it."
Yashiro said nothing.
"Have you no pride at all?"
Trembling with fear, he barely rose to his feet and shook his head.
"Don't underestimate me."
Pitiful wretch. How I hate you.
"Those are just words. How about backing them up with actions? Maybe you'll finally attack?"
Itachi's Sharingan caught the chakra movement in Yashiro's body. He tried to plunge him into genjutsu and quickly formed seals.
Fire Style.
Yashiro took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks. No technique followed. He just exhaled the air back.
"Well. Where is it?" Itachi asked.
"Huh?"
Itachi watched him coldly.
"You were so scared you didn't notice my genjutsu. I caught you in the illusion the moment you fell."
Yashiro shook.
"I didn't say fight for nothing. I wanted you to feel how truly helpless you are. How did you plan to stand against the village, huh, Yashiro?"
Itachi didn't care that the man before him was older and higher in status. From the moment Danzo's office first hinted at destroying the Uchiha clan, Itachi felt entitled to decide how to speak to anyone, etiquette be damned. Back then he told Danzo to shut up, and now he calmly tore into the leader of what was once the village's most powerful clan.
"You all underestimated Konoha. And me."
Yashiro was pale with horror, frozen before him like a rabbit before a snake.
"Mangekyo Sharingan," Itachi uttered and added like a sentence: "Tsukuyomi."
New eyes, new technique obtained just over an hour ago after killing Izumi. Now Itachi understood what Shisui meant when he insisted he didn't need this power.
Yashiro fell into an ocean of darkness. He looked around helplessly but saw nothing, hearing only his executioner's voice — Itachi had made sure of that.
"Because of you, I killed with my own hands the person I loved. And I'll kill a few more relatives after, following you. All because of your utter cowardice and ignorance."
"Where am I?"
Yashiro seemed not to hear his words.
"I fully control this world: time and space. This is hell I created just for you, Yashiro."
The ocean of gloom parted at Itachi's will. The victim finally saw him.
"So. Let's begin. No rush."
Itachi extended his hand, and Yashiro's body lifted above the space's lower boundary. Arms spread out. Like a magnet, it was drawn to a wooden cross created by imagination. Itachi slowly drew the sword from behind his back and thrust it into Yashiro's stomach. He screamed. The pain here was utterly real and could last eternity by Itachi's will.
"I won't let you die that easily," he said calmly. "You don't deserve it."
He drew the sword from behind his back again.
Yashiro screamed and shrieked, tearing his throat hoarse, while Itachi delightedly rummaged the blade in his guts and surprisingly realized he was truly enjoying it. He was avenging. For Izumi and all the Uchihas he had killed that night. The pain, long exceeding the sensitivity threshold and drilling a hole from his heart into the abyss, now rushed back and by Itachi's will crashed onto Yashiro.
"That was a warm-up. You haven't felt real pain yet."
A second in the real world could stretch days in Itachi's Tsukuyomi. Blood streamed from Yashiro's body in rivers. Magnetized to the cross, he resembled a hedgehog bristling with swords.
"P-please, I beg... Kill me. Kill me!"
"Too early," Itachi calmly informed him. "You took responsibility for the Uchiha clan. Now suffer. Feel their pain. As leader, I'll give you plenty for each one."
"I've realized. Kill me! K-kill me!"
A new sword appeared in his hand.
"No."
...
He ended the Tsukuyomi. Yashiro, drooling, sprawled on the playground sand. Itachi had completely destroyed his mind, and a body without a mind can't exist. The Uchiha clan had no leader anymore.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan