Don't wait to answer.
Itachi said to himself again:
"When I was eight years old, my teammate Tenma Izumo was killed by a masked man. That pain and shock forced my Sharingan to awaken.
When Father found out, he didn't ask how I felt. He simply congratulated me while feeding the fish, saying I had finally become a true Uchiha.
Later, I understood. For our clan, dead comrades, family, or lovers—these tragedies are considered the necessary catalyst for unlocking Sharingan.
Many clansmen cling to loss and grief, turning that agony into power. Whoever endures it is seen as a person with 'measure.'
That is the Uchiha's so-called secret. That is the 'pride' our clan cherishes."
His words carried disgust and ridicule toward his own kin.
"So that's what happened."
Duan muttered, but inside he thought differently.
Because he hadn't experienced such despair. His own eyes had opened during a breakthrough in physical training, in a moment not of grief, but of joy.
Happy eyes.
Of course, if he told his nephew that, Itachi would never believe it.
Itachi suddenly stopped, fixing Duan with his gaze.
"Uncle, you chose to live apart from the clan because you also reject that so-called pride, didn't you?"
He wanted to know if his uncle felt the same disillusionment with the clan's obsession as he did.
But Duan disappointed him.
"No. I just wanted peace and quiet. Nothing more." Duan's reply was casual.
Itachi lowered his head in silence.
The two kept walking.
After a while, Itachi asked again:
"Uncle, in Konoha today, from the Hokage's advisors down to the common villagers, they all hate Uchiha. Are we truly the cursed clan the Second Hokage once called us?"
"Where did you hear that?" Duan asked back. Before Itachi could answer, he shrugged. "Why cling to what others say? Even if you were born with darkness, accept your truest self. That's enough."
Duan never cared about public opinion.
If the whole shinobi world cursed him, he'd still eat and drink as usual. If they praised him, he'd still live the same way. Neither scorn nor glory mattered.
That was the distinction between inner and outer, honor and disgrace—a fragment of Taoist thought he had carried into this world.
Itachi frowned, shaken. "Uncle, your realm is too high. I can't understand."
A large hand landed on his head.
"You're still young. It's normal not to. And don't force yourself to think like an old man. Some burdens aren't yours yet."
Burdens?
Itachi's heart leapt. Was his uncle hinting at the clan's conflict with the village?
He pressed: "Uncle, where do you think the relationship between Uchiha and Konoha is heading? Can reconciliation ever be achieved?"
"Impossible," Duan said flatly.
"Why?"
"From the Fourth Hokage's death, to the Third's return, to Uchiha's exile to the edge of the village—the rift only widened. Under constant suppression, Uchiha will eventually choose rebellion. A coup is inevitable."
The words were calm, but the impact was thunderous.
Coup?!
Itachi's face drained of color. Shisui had warned him of the same thing—that the hawks in the clan would eventually push toward such an outcome.
Unconsciously, the two had walked a long circle, ending atop Hokage Rock.
Below their feet, the stone faces of past Hokage watched over Konoha. The setting sun bathed the village in red light.
From here, the streets of Konoha spread like a fan, lively and prosperous. But in the far corner—the Uchiha compound—stood apart, remote and desolate, as if the clan were outsiders in their own village.
The warm wind carried silence between them.
Itachi finally asked the last question:
"Uncle… if one day the clan truly launched a coup, would you stand with the Uchiha… or with the village?"
Duan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked back: "What about you?"
"I… I don't know."
The hesitation revealed everything. Itachi's heart already leaned toward Konoha, away from his clan's nationalism. He followed Shisui's lead, the Will of Fire.
Duan wasn't surprised.
Changing a man's ideals couldn't be done with one conversation or one beating. But there would be time enough for more.
"It's me."
Itachi's eyes widened with expectation.
Duan's gaze drifted into the distance, his words measured.
To him, Konoha was a hypocritical construct, a 'peaceful' dictatorship no different from tyrannical nations of his past life. The Uchiha, too, were arrogant and doomed by their pride.
But if, as in the story he once knew, Konoha's elders crushed the clan in one night without consequence, that would be far too boring.
No—he wanted a true war. A clash that would burn everything away.
"I don't care about Uchiha or Konoha," Duan said at last. His lips curved into a smile. "But I sincerely hope the two sides fight. The spectacle will be… magnificent. Don't you think?"
His voice carried a dark thrill. Just imagining it stirred the same joy he had felt when his eyes first opened.
Perhaps, when the flames truly engulfed the village, that joy might even carry him to the Kaleidoscope.
Itachi froze, his face pale. "Why… why, Uncle?"
"Because…" Duan ruffled his hair, smiling wide at last. "I just want to see the world burn."
At that moment—
Shua.
Duan's eyes spun into three tomoe, blood-red and deeper than Itachi's own. Calm on the surface, but within them churned madness.
"…"
Itachi trembled. In those eyes he saw Konoha itself, aflame under a blood-red sky, fragile as a scroll ready to turn to ash.
In that instant, he glimpsed the abyss within his uncle.
Uchiha Duan… was a lunatic, through and through.