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[~1000 Words]
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Location: Foosha Village Clinic, Nighttime
The moon hung over the waves like a pale eye, cold and watching.
Haruki sat cross-legged on the weathered wooden deck behind the clinic, facing the ocean, a blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders. The sea breeze whispered across his skin, but it didn't chill him. Not anymore.
His Sharingan, 2-tomoe, glimmered faintly beneath half-lowered lids—spinning slowly, endlessly, as his mind refused to rest.
He remembered it all. Every moment of that night. Every scream. Every cut. The blood pooled in alleyways, still warm under the cold silence. The fire. The silence after the blades stopped.
And Clan Leader´s son, Uchiha Itachi had mercilessly slaughtered them all.
Haruki's hand clenched unconsciously.
Could he have done it alone?
Even with the Mangekyō, even with all his genius… every single member of the Uchiha Clan? In one night? Elders. Veterans. Chūnin. Jōnin. Children. Women, All of them?
He shook his head slowly. No.
No, not alone.
If it were just about skill, maybe. But not without someone giving him access. Someone disabling the perimeter. Someone in the village letting it happen.
The ANBU weren't watching that night.
 No backup.
 No warning.
 No resistance from the outside.
The village—so secure, so layered in patrols—was silent. Complicit.
His eyes narrowed, burning brighter.
The higher-ups. The elders. The advisors. Danzo. Homura. Koharu.
And then… the Hokage.
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Haruki's breath caught. That name had always stood tall in Konoha's mythos. The "Professor." ‟The Strongest Hokage". The man of peace. The one who always "cared for every child in the village." ‟Person with the most Will of Fire."
But he knew. He had to know.
And he didn't stop it.
So why?
Haruki's jaw clenched.
Because the Uchiha were planning a coup.
Because they were pushed to it.
He had heard the whispers. Felt the tension. Even before his fall into this strange place, before he left everything behind, he had noticed the signs: the way missions had dried up. The way ANBU watched the compound. The way other clans looked at them in the marketplace like wolves eyeing a penned animal.
Ever since the Nine Tails attack.
Haruki's fists trembled.
The Fourth Hokage had died saving the village. The Nine Tails had been manipulated—by someone with a Sharingan, they said. A convenient scapegoat. The Uchiha crest had been blamed. Quietly. Efficiently. Ruthlessly.
That was when the surveillance started.
The suppression.
The isolation of the Uchiha Clan.
They herded the Uchiha like cattle into the outskirts.
 No trust.
 No explanation.
 No justice.
And still, the Uchiha served. They protected Konoha's gates. Ran the Military Police Force. Held the line when other clans turned away. They bled for the village even when it spat in their face.
And what did they get in return?
Erasure.
Not even a trial. Not even exile.
Just… death.
Haruki's breath turned ragged, and his Sharingan flared brighter.
Did Kurenai know?
That one night on the porch, when she had said, "I haven't always trusted your clan."
She had felt it. The tension. The rumors. And yet… she never said anything more.
Did all the clans know?
The Hyūga, the Nara, the Yamanaka… all of them. They said nothing. No one lifted a finger.
They let it happen.
Haruki stood up slowly, eyes narrowed and glinting with fury, staring at the distant moon as if daring it to deny the truth.
They used us.
Then discarded us.
He remembered the civilians crossing the street when he walked by. The whispering Genin. The condescending merchants. The looks that said: "You're not one of us. You're something to fear. Something to watch. Something to control."
And finally, something to erase.
The air crackled faintly around him as chakra flickered from his skin like heat haze.
The Third Hokage let it happen.
 Even if he didn't swing the blade himself, he let the knife fall.
 He knew. He did nothing.
Haruki gritted his teeth, shaking with restrained fury. They killed them all. His father. His sister. His clan-mates, even though they neglected him because he didn't awaken his Sharingan, they were good to their family. The clan were generous to them when Izumi awoke her Sharingan, again when she had opened her 3 - Tomoe with the help of their father.
His sister's friends. His Uchiha classmates. The elders who held their clan history. Even the infants sleeping in their cribs. The Vulnereable women and the disabled Veterans.
All of them.
Gone.
And the village slept soundly.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to burn the Hokage Monument until every smug stone faces of all the Hokages crumbled into ash.
But instead… he inhaled. Just once.
Deep. Controlled.
Like his father taught him.
"You assess. You adapt. You grow."
Then you strike.
Haruki's eyes, still glowing red, turned back toward the village lights in the distance.
This place was not Konoha. These people were not shinobi, but Civilians. They didn't know the past he carried. Not yet.
But Haruki had made a vow under the stars.
He would protect what mattered. And he would never again be a blind loyal dog.
If he ever returned to Konoha… to the Hidden Leaf…
He would not be the same boy who once begged for acknowledgment from his teammates, He would not be the one who wanted to open a shop and support his family, not becoming a teacher like his father wanted him to.
He would be the storm they buried alive.
And when the time came—the Hokage and Konoha's Will of Fire would face his own.
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