Chapter 69 – The Light of Bonds
The small wails of a newborn echoed in the Uchiha home, soft but steady, carrying with them the weight of a new future. Mikoto, her face pale with exhaustion, smiled through tears as she held the infant close to her chest. Fugaku stood near, arms folded, the hard general's mask he wore so often cracking as he gazed at his second son.
Akira hovered a step behind them, almost afraid to move closer. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked at the tiny figure swaddled in blankets.
So this… is my little brother.
The joy that rushed through him was overwhelming, but it was tangled with shadows from the memories he carried. He saw flashes of the old timeline: Itachi's sorrowful eyes, the impossible burden forced onto him, and the night when the Uchiha clan was drenched in blood. His hands clenched tightly at his side.
I won't let that happen again. Not to him. Not to this family.
The oath formed in his chest like fire, fierce and unyielding.
And then—his eyes changed.
A warm surge spread through him, not sharp like anger, but steady like the sun's embrace. His Sharingan spun to life, the tomoe aligning with a clarity he had never felt before. One became two, two became three—and both eyes settled into perfect completion.
But it wasn't the crimson hue of the clan.
His irises glowed blue, radiating gentleness and resolve, unlike any Uchiha had ever seen.
Mikoto gasped, clutching the baby tighter. Fugaku's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, though his face remained composed, as if refusing to show what he truly felt.
The infant stirred.
Itachi, only minutes into this world, turned his face toward Akira. His newborn senses seemed to react to that warmth. The cries quieted, and his tiny hand twitched in Mikoto's hold, reaching faintly in Akira's direction.
A lump formed in Akira's throat. He took a step forward, tears threatening his vision, and whispered, "Don't worry, little brother… I'll protect you. No matter what."
The glow of his eyes pulsed brighter, and in that moment, Fugaku and Mikoto both understood—Akira's Sharingan wasn't born of pain or hatred. It was born of love, as it had been from the very first time it awakened.
The room was silent except for Itachi's soft breathing, and the warmth of Akira's promise lingered like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
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