[POV: Shiro]
Itachi, the merciless, hadn't even bothered to consider saving Izumi's life. His ultimate act of mercy was to cast a genjutsu on the innocent girl so that in her final moments, she wouldn't feel pain and could experience a dream of happiness. Even animals showed more compassion than him. His Sharingan slowly deactivated.
Shiro arrived at Izumi's house, breathless. The smell of blood filled his senses—an odor of death, betrayal, and dirt. His small heart beat wildly, not from fear, but from exhilaration. He stood at the climax of one of the most tragic and pivotal moments in the backdrop of the Naruto world.
Seeing Izumi's lifeless body on the ground beside her mother, a moment of pity washed over him. "Poor girl! How could you not see the monster inside Itachi?" Izumi's face still held a smile, a smile that seemed to hint at her last peaceful moments, moments Itachi had created for her with a genjutsu.
Shiro had visited Izumi's house a few times before, not because of her kindness, but because of its strategic location. According to the story, Itachi would leave this spot after killing Izumi to search the western part of the clan grounds, slaughtering everyone without mercy. The further he went, the longer it would take for him to return.
In his previous life, Shiro had read about every detail of this night. That's why he had hidden several explosive tags, a bag full of shurikens, and some ration pills—which he had laboriously stolen from the old people's cabinets—in this house. He would create a diversion elsewhere to draw attention, then escape through the cleared-out areas. In his previous simulations, seen through the Book of Truth, this plan had worked, because after the massacre, Itachi would quickly move to the next location and wouldn't turn back, and the explosion would force him to engage with several Jonin at once. He was probably busy with that now.
Shiro thought to himself happily, "Itachi's secret plan must be ruined by now. He has to deal with a bunch of Uchiha shinobi at the same time." In Shiro's opinion, it would be difficult for someone with Itachi's skill to face multiple shinobi at once, even though Itachi would undoubtedly be the final victor.
He quickly pulled the bag from beneath the rotting floorboards. His small hands were trembling. He opened the bag, took a pill from it, and put it in his mouth. The bitter taste of the pill spread across his tongue, but with every drop that went down his throat, a new surge of energy flowed through his veins. He took a fresh breath and prepared to leave the house.
He quietly moved toward the window and quickly scanned his surroundings. The alleys were empty, but the smell of blood still lingered. With every step he took, the creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath his feet acted like a warning. He clutched the small bag tighter and quickened his pace, stepping back out into the alley.
Just as he was about to exit the front door, a sudden sense of danger flared within him. This instinct was the result of the nine times he had experienced death through the Book of Truth, which had transformed him into a survival machine. Without hesitation, he dove to the side.
A kunai blade thudded into the ground where he had been standing a second before. The slight vibration of the blade indicated the power of its thrower. He tilted his head up.
"Damn it! He came back!"
Perched on top of a lamppost, like a statue of darkness, was the cold, ruthless figure of Itachi. A cold wind rustled his long hair in the empty street. The moonlight, which had barely found a way through the dark clouds, illuminated his cold, stony face, highlighting his features. His eyes, now the crimson of the Sharingan, looked emotionless and soulless. It was as if Itachi had become a god of death, emerging from the darkness to eliminate anything in his path.
Fear, mixed with a deep hatred, glinted in Shiro's eyes. Hatred for a man who sacrificed everything he loved for a greater goal, and fear of a power that could take his life in an instant.
Itachi stared at him silently; he didn't need to speak. His presence alone screamed that he intended to kill. Itachi suddenly vanished from the lamppost and appeared directly in front of Shiro, closing the distance between them. The air around them became heavy and deadly, as if death itself were walking. Every one of Itachi's steps landed on Shiro's heart like a hammer blow.
Shiro tried to perform hand signs, but before he could finish, he saw the sharp blades of shuriken closing in on his heart. It was too late; he couldn't get away.
"Doton: Doryū Heki!"
A wall of mud and earth rose with incredible speed between Shiro and Itachi, blocking the shuriken. Shiro was thrown backward by the force of the rising earth, shaking him out of his initial shock. He got up and looked around in surprise, trying to find his savior.
Suddenly, someone jumped down from the rooftop and emerged from the darkness. Mitsuro, with his crimson Sharingan, stared at Itachi. In his gaze was nothing but rage and a readiness for battle.
"Itachi, have you gone mad?"