The skies were clear, the breeze gentle and mild. Another sun-drenched day dawned over Konohagakure, as lively and bustling as ever.
But for Uchiha Sasuke, lying in a hospital bed, reality felt more like a nightmare.
"My foolish little brother... Hate me. Despise me. And live an ugly life clinging to that hatred..."
"You're too weak. Come find me again when you have eyes like mine."
Uchiha Itachi's voice echoed again and again in Sasuke's dreams. The night of the clan massacre might not have left any lasting physical injuries, but the psychological scars it carved into him were deep and indelible.
Sunlight streamed through the window, snapping Sasuke awake. He curled into the corner of his bed, cold sweat soaking through his clothes, leaving behind a chill that bit to the bone.
"Sasuke is a boy. Boys don't cry or act spoiled like girls do~" His mother's voice rang faintly in his ears. Gritting his teeth, he forced the tears back down—but something called sadness refused to stay buried, welling up from within and forcing its way through his eyes.
Tears fell, hot and unrelenting, followed by ragged, uneven sobs.
"...Hah." A sigh drifted in from nowhere.
"Who's there?!" Sasuke immediately straightened, wiping his face and glaring warily around the room.
"Heh heh..." The voice came again. The next moment, everything went black—and when his vision returned, he found himself standing in a place of swirling darkness and formless chaos.
A strange figure hovered before him. The being wore a flowing black robe, thick and viscous like liquid shadow. Not an inch of flesh was visible beneath the fabric. Even when Sasuke strained to see, the body inside was a murky blur—as though it were both there and not there at all. Only a pair of glowing red eyes shone out, devoid of pupils, casting a light that pierced the gloom.
"Where is this? And who the hell are you?" Sasuke drew a kunai and dropped into a fighting stance.
A rasping voice answered from within the shadow.
"Uchiha Sasuke. This is your inner world—your mind."
Sasuke narrowed his eyes, muscles tense.
"What kind of nonsense are you spouting? There's no way I wouldn't know if a monster like you was lurking in my own head."
The figure gave a quiet chuckle. "Then where did that kunai in your hand come from?"
Sasuke froze. He'd been pulled into this place so suddenly—there hadn't been a single ninja tool on him. So where had the kunai come from?
"Enough stalling. If you still don't believe me, then why don't you take a little tour through the depths of your own heart?" The shadow gestured politely with one hand.
Confused but unable to resist, Sasuke found his feet moving forward. Mist gathered at the shadow's feet, lifting him off the ground and carrying him upward.
As they rose, Sasuke's tension spiked. He instinctively braced himself against falling. Then, without warning, the darkness around them cleared. Warm, familiar scenes began to take shape.
"Nii-san, there's a test tomorrow at the Academy. Will you help me practice shuriken?"
"Forgive me, Sasuke. Next time. I promise."
"Itachi's been busy lately. Come train with me instead, Sasuke. Your mom's pretty good too, you know."
Sasuke rubbed at his reddened eyes. His voice trembled.
"These are... my memories. Hah. I stopped caring about this stuff a long time ago."
The shadow said nothing, merely guiding him onward. But Sasuke quietly marked the place in his mind.
The scene shifted—and now it was the night of the massacre. The contrast was too jarring. Sasuke lost control in an instant, screaming as his face twisted into a feral, contorted snarl. The shadow, clearly enjoying itself, conjured a mirror out of nowhere and held it up to him.
"Take a good look at yourself."
Sasuke stared. In the mirror, a monstrous version of himself glared back—its body wrapped in curling black smoke, its face a mask of hatred. Grinding his teeth, he muttered,
"That's... really me? What the hell have I become?"
He turned to the shadow, as if begging for an answer.
"This is your mental world," the shadow replied evenly. "What you see in the mirror is your truest self. That black smoke is the embodiment of the darkness inside you."
Sasuke clenched his fists. His breathing grew ragged. In the mirror, the black smoke thickened.
"Disgusting... Itachi... Even if I have to fall into hell itself, I will kill you with my own hands. You'll tell me everything face to face!"
"Oh? Even hell doesn't scare you?" The shadow's voice dripped with amusement. "Then I'll give you power—power on par with a god. All I ask is that you're willing to pay the price."
"Power like a god?" Sasuke's voice twisted with bitter sarcasm. "You say you can give me that kind of power? Then who are you? A god?"
"How do you know I'm not?" the shadow shot back. Without waiting for a reply, it raised a hand and sent a beam of black light shooting into Sasuke's forehead.
Sasuke flinched, but then his expression shifted—turning wild with awe. He could feel it. Power. The power to burn mountains and boil seas.
Within this strange mental world, Sasuke began testing his new strength. Even after a long while, he showed no signs of stopping. He'd already started fantasizing about Itachi groveling beneath his feet like a pathetic little mutt.
"Enough," the shadow said flatly. "That was just a taste—to let you experience what it's like to be strong. But now it's over." As the words faded, the black light shot out from Sasuke's forehead and returned to the shadow's hand.
Sasuke stared dumbly at his now-weak hands. His voice trembled with suppressed madness.
"That power... intoxicating. With power like that, how could I possibly lose to Itachi?"
Before today, he might've accepted his own weakness. But now? Not anymore.
He fixed the shadow with a burning stare.
"Who are you really? Why did you appear in my mind? And what... what do I have to do to get that power for real?"
"Kill," the shadow said simply. "The more people you kill, the more power I'll lend you. Slaughter the world if you dare—and I'll make you a god."
Sasuke's pupils shrank. He went silent. His lips moved faintly before he finally spoke.
"Does it really have to be this way?"
"Heh heh." The shadow laughed softly. "You came begging for power. You don't get to haggle."
The next second, Sasuke was booted from his own mind.
"Been a while since I played the wise old sage," the shadow mused, drifting through Sasuke's subconscious. Wherever it passed, dark smoke corroded the surroundings, sending ripples through the space.
...
Spore-type Parasitic Soul—a kind of demonic spiritual clone. And Sasuke wasn't its only host. All across the shinobi world, there were other "lucky ones" chosen by the demons.
The delay in corrupting Sasuke had been caused by a detour into investigating the secrets of Indra's chakra. As a result, the demon had fallen slightly behind schedule. Neji Hyuga and Gaara were already "turned." Sasuke, by comparison, was just getting started.
And in the meantime, other schemes were already in motion. The daimyo had been manipulated into printing money like mad. It wouldn't be long before hyperinflation set in and the entire financial system collapsed.
But that, really, was just a trivial distraction. Even if it failed, it wouldn't matter. The demons' true goal lay in the oceans. Everything else—the chaos on land—was merely a smokescreen to tie up the strongest shinobi.
...
When Sasuke opened his eyes again, he was back in his bed at home. The room was quiet, desolate. It felt as if everything he'd just seen had been a dream.
He still lived in the old Uchiha compound. No one had moved him. Konoha had been hit hard by a string of disasters lately. The village simply didn't have the time or energy to deal with the last Uchiha heir.
In the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi puffed solemnly on his pipe. The fallout from the Uchiha massacre was worse than anyone had expected—so bad it defied belief.
Somehow, the other hidden villages had learned about the role Konoha's upper echelon had played in the slaughter. It was a colossal scandal. Maybe the other Kage didn't care much about reputation, but the Third Hokage valued his dearly.
Even pinning everything on Danzō wouldn't be enough. In the shinobi world, when judging a crime, proof wasn't always necessary. Motive and suspicion were all it took.