The mist that clung to Konoha's outer walls was unnaturally thick, as though the land itself hesitated to reveal its secrets. Raizen stood in the half-light of dawn, fingers brushing the bark of an ancient tree where a child's kunai had once lodged decades ago. The Uchiha crest carved there was cracked and weathered—a monument to a family erased.
He closed his eyes, whispering to memories only he could recall.
> "Itachi… why can't I feel you? Did the world swallow you whole?"
The village below was quiet, but his senses stirred—chakra signatures flickered at the edge of perception, like ghosts dancing in the fog. One presence stood out: wrong, twisted, familiar.
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The First Strike
A blade of black lightning split the mist, aimed straight for his heart. Raizen spun, unsheathing his sword in a single fluid motion. Steel screamed against chakra-forged energy, sparks raining on the forest floor.
A figure stepped from the haze—a tall warrior cloaked in ragged robes, their face hidden behind a porcelain mask etched with strange sigils.
"You've lingered in a world that has forgotten you," the stranger said, voice echoing unnaturally. "The Hokage and their council don't even remember Shibai's apostles. To them, we never existed."
Raizen's Sharingan flared crimson. "So you were ghosts this whole time. Hiding while the world rebuilt itself."
The apostle tilted their head. "Not hiding. Waiting. Watching. And now—reminding you of the truth you erased."
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A Bitter Revelation
Their mask tilted slightly. "In these decades you skipped… the world changed. Your precious Itachi slaughtered his own clan."
Raizen's eyes widened, disbelief flickering across his face.
"Itachi…?"
The apostle's tone was sharp as a blade. "Yes. He bore their blood on his hands, suffered in silence, and carried burdens you abandoned. And in the end, the one person he loved most—his brother—struck him down. Itachi died by Sasuke's hand."
Raizen felt the ground tilt beneath him. A pressure built in his chest, heavier than any wound. The boy he'd once stood beside, the prodigy who had embodied the Uchiha's quiet strength… reduced to a tragic tale.
> "No… he wouldn't… unless…" Raizen's voice trembled.
"Unless you weren't there to help him?" the apostle finished coldly. "You vanished, Raizen. You erased the world's memories and left him alone. His suffering, his death—this is your legacy."
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A Clash of Eras
Rage flared. Raizen lunged, sword flashing like moonlight through the fog. The apostle parried effortlessly, their chakra bending space around them. The forest quaked under each strike, trees splintering, earth tearing.
Raizen's attacks grew more desperate, each swing a denial of the truth. Sparks lit the mist like falling stars. The apostle absorbed the onslaught with unnatural calm, as though even battle was part of their design.
A final clash sent them both skidding across the forest floor. The apostle vanished into the mist with a warped ripple of chakra, their mocking voice lingering:
> "Find your answers, if you dare. But every step will show you the cost of your choices."
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The Hokage's Blind Spot
In the Hokage's office, Naruto felt a faint disturbance—foreign chakra echoing far away. He frowned but could not name it.
"Another anomaly?" Sasuke asked from the doorway.
"Yeah… but it's strange." Naruto's brow furrowed. "It doesn't match anything in our records."
The two stood in silence, unaware that the name Shibai or his apostles had been wiped clean from history itself.
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Raizen's Resolve
Alone again, Raizen stood among the broken trees. The mist began to thin, revealing Konoha in the distance. His thoughts churned with anger, grief, and guilt.
> "Itachi bore it all without me," he whispered. "He carried the weight I should have shared. And I wasn't there…"
His fingers tightened on his sword. The pendant fragment the apostle had dropped—Itachi's pendant—gleamed faintly in the dirt. He picked it up, holding it close.
> "I'll uncover everything. I'll tear apart the lies and the apostles hiding in the shadows. For Itachi… and for the world he died protecting."
Far beyond the horizon, a pair of apostles observed.
"He's shaken," one said.
The other's masked face turned toward the Hokage Monument. "Good. Let his pain guide him into the trap Shibai has prepared. The Hokage don't even know the game has begun."
And somewhere, deep within the fabric of forgotten history, a presence stirred—Shibai's will, faint but awakening.
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