Inside the Hokage's Office, the faint smell of ink and burning tobacco lingered in the air. The office was dim despite the afternoon light filtering through the tall windows. Scrolls, mission reports, and intelligence briefings were stacked high on the desk. Behind them sat the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, hunched slightly, his aged shoulders heavy with the weight of leadership. His eyes moved slowly across the parchment before him, though his mind was elsewhere.
The Uchiha Clan's extermination had left scars across the entire village. Whispers spread in dark alleys, families looked over their shoulders, and the trust that once bound clans together now thinned to fragile threads. As Hokage, Hiruzen carried the duty of stabilizing the storm—balancing grief, anger, and the fragile alliances that held Konoha together.
Just as he dipped his brush into ink, the faint ripple of chakra alerted him. An Anbu kneeling by the door announced in a low, steady tone:
"Lord Hokage, Hyuga Hiashi requests an audience."
Hiruzen raised his head, his brows knitting slightly.
The Hyuga Clan? At a time like this?
The Hyuga, though proud and cautious, rarely acted without reason. Their concerns had already been appeased weeks earlier—at least, that was what he thought. If Hiashi himself had come, then the matter was far from ordinary.
"Let him in," Hiruzen said after a measured pause. His tone was calm, yet his heart grew wary.
The doors opened with a soft creak. Hiashi Hyuga entered, his white eyes reflecting the faint sunlight. His posture was straight, his movements precise, and his expression more solemn than usual. He bowed respectfully.
"Lord Hokage."
Hiruzen put down his brush and gently stacked the documents aside. A faint, practiced smile formed on his lips, meant to disarm tension. He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.
"Hiashi. It is rare for you to come in person. Please, sit. Tell me what troubles you."
Hiashi hesitated for a brief moment before lowering himself into the chair. Even then, his spine remained stiff, as though weighed down by the gravity of his message. After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"This time… I have come regarding the Uchiha Clan."
The room seemed to still. Hiruzen's fingers tightened subtly around his pipe, though his expression betrayed nothing.
"The Uchiha Clan?" he asked evenly. "Do you refer to the recent tragedy?"
Hiashi slowly shook his head. "Not that matter… but another, one perhaps even more grave."
Hiruzen's heart skipped a beat. "More grave…?"
Hiashi's pale eyes flickered with unease. His voice was low, but resolute.
"Although the Hyuga Clan refrains from interfering in certain village affairs, we maintain our own intelligence networks. Not long ago, information reached us that on the night of the Uchiha extermination… someone within that clan awakened a Mangekyo Sharingan of terrifying power. That person then released a jutsu with the potential to destroy the entire world."
Hiruzen's pipe froze halfway to his lips. His pupils constricted slightly.
"A world-destroying ninjutsu? Hiashi, do you realize the weight of your words?"
"I do," Hiashi replied firmly, his eyes never leaving Hiruzen's. "This is no longer a matter of one clan. It concerns the entire Ninja World."
The Hokage's office fell into suffocating silence. The faint ticking of the wall clock sounded louder than usual.
Just then, another voice cut through the air, low and forceful.
"Nonsense. Baseless rumors."
From the shadows near the wall, Danzo Shimura stepped forward. His single eye glared, his tone sharp. "The Uchiha are extinct. Their power died with them. Spreading such claims only fuels unrest."
Hiashi turned toward him, but said nothing.
Hiruzen exhaled slowly, hiding the storm brewing within. If Hiashi's intelligence held even a grain of truth, then the events of that night were far more complicated than he had been led to believe.
---
Far away, beneath the blood-red clouds of Akatsuki's hideout, another conversation was unfolding.
Obito stepped out of the swirling vortex of Kamui. His masked face tilted slightly, his lone visible eye glimmering with unease. Across from him sat Uchiha Itachi, calm and unmoving, as though carved from stone.
"Itachi…" Obito's voice was low, hesitant, carrying an unusual weight.
Itachi's dark eyes rose to meet him. "Hm?"
For a long moment, Obito said nothing. He was choosing his words carefully. Finally, he asked, "Do you remember Uchiha Gen—the one I mentioned before?"
Itachi's expression didn't shift. "The clan member who awakened a Mangekyo… You told me he was eliminated."
Obito's breath caught. He had not expected Itachi to recall so clearly.
"Yes… but there was a complication."
Itachi's voice was calm, but his gaze sharpened. "What complication?"
Obito clenched his fist before releasing it. "…Before he died, he unleashed a jutsu. One meant to destroy the entire Ninja World."
Silence.
Itachi's face remained unreadable, yet behind those eyes, thoughts turned rapidly. "A jutsu to destroy the world?" His voice carried disbelief.
Obito knew words alone would not convince him. Without another word, he raised a hand and cast a genjutsu, projecting his memory directly into Itachi's mind.
The world around Itachi wavered. In an instant, he stood within Obito's recollection—the night of the Uchiha massacre. He felt the air itself tremble, heard the roar of fury as Uchiha Gen unleashed a catastrophic surge of power. The heavens darkened, an oppressive weight pressing against his chest.
Itachi watched as entire landscapes dissolved in the vision, swallowed by calamity. The cries of shinobi and civilians alike echoed, helpless before a storm that spared no one. Even the strongest Kage could do nothing but collapse under its force.
When the illusion ended, Itachi stood silently, his breath steady, but his mind shaken.
"Such power…" he murmured. "From Gen?"
He remembered the man well—ordinary, unimpressive, mocked by many for his lack of talent. He had lived in the clan's shadow, a bureaucrat in the police force, never even awakening the basic Sharingan. Shisui, ever kind, had been one of the few to speak to him.
Yet now… that same man wielded strength capable of ending the world itself.
"How… could he reach such heights?"
The thought tore at Itachi. His belief in the Will of Fire, in protecting the village even at the cost of his clan, had guided his every decision. But here was proof that someone of his clan—someone overlooked—had chosen a path so extreme it shattered all logic.
Why had Gen chosen destruction instead of protection? Why could he not carry the Will of Fire, as his father had urged, to illuminate the village instead of engulfing it in darkness?
Why had he chosen madness over reason?
Itachi's calm mask cracked for only a moment, confusion flickering deep in his eyes.
"…Why can't I understand him?" he whispered.
Obito's gaze sharpened. He could not allow Itachi to dwell too deeply. "Do not mistake it, Itachi. That man was no savior—only a madman."
But Itachi caught something in the genjutsu. A sound, faint but undeniable.
"The name he shouted… Wasn't it 'Uchiha Madara'?"
Obito stiffened. His single eye flashed, and his voice grew cold. "Those details are irrelevant."
He dismissed the question with force, concealing the unease rising in his chest.
Because deep down, he knew the truth: on the night of the Uchiha massacre, it wasn't just Itachi's blade that ended a clan. Another Mangekyo had awakened, and with it came a disaster he himself had helped unleash.
The destruction of the Ninja World… had begun with him.
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