Chapter 3: The Night the Flames Went Out
The setting sun bled orange and purple across the sky, casting long shadows across the training grounds of the local academy. Sasuke stayed late, as he always did, practicing until his arms ached and his aim was flawless. The satisfying thunk of kunai hitting their mark was a small, temporary balm on his restless soul. Each bullseye was a tiny victory against the weakness he felt gnawing at him.
He packed his bag as dusk settled, the air growing cool. The walk home was usually filled with the familiar sounds of his community—the chatter of neighbors, the scent of evening meals being cooked, the distant hum of the city.
But tonight, there was only silence.
An unnatural, heavy silence that pressed in on him from all sides. He quickened his pace, a cold knot of dread tightening in his stomach. The main street of the Uchiha district was dark. No lights shone from the windows. No one was out walking. It was a ghost town.
Then he smelled it. The acrid stench of smoke and something metallic and coppery that made his stomach churn. He broke into a panicked run, his small bag bouncing forgotten behind him.
The scene that greeted him was one of torn from a nightmare. The neat, orderly district was a ruin. Walls were smashed, doors were broken from their hinges. And on the ground, scattered like fallen leaves, were the bodies of his clan. The Uchiha security force, retired heroes and skilled fighters all, were dead. Their eyes were wide with a shock that death had not erased.
Sasuke's mind went blank. His legs moved on their own, carrying him through the carnage, his feet stepping over people he had known his entire life. A whimper escaped his lips, the only sound in the suffocating stillness.
He reached his own home last. The front door was a splintered wreck. And in the main courtyard, beneath the pale light of the rising moon, the final act of the tragedy was playing out.
His parents. Fugaku, his hero costume torn, stood back-to-back with Mikoto. They were bloody and exhausted, but they stood as a final, defiant bastion. Opposite them was a single figure. It wasn't a monster or a hulking brute. It was a man, tall and lean, wrapped in shadows that seemed to cling to him like a cloak. Sasuke couldn't make out his face, but he could feel the aura of overwhelming power radiating from him, a pressure so immense it made the air feel thick and hard to breathe.
"Raven!" His father's voice was a ragged roar. He lunged, his movements a blur to a normal person's eye. His "Total Insight" would be screaming warnings at him, showing him every feint, every twitch of muscle from his opponent.
But it didn't matter.
The shadowy figure moved with an impossible, liquid grace. He sidestepped Fugaku's attack as if it were in slow motion, and a hand, dark and indistinct, shot out and struck his father in the chest. Fugaku crumpled to the ground without a sound.
"Fugaku!" Mikoto screamed, her threads lashing out, invisible and sharp. The figure simply raised a hand, and the threads dissolved into nothingness before they could reach him. He took one step forward and the fight was over. Mikoto fell beside her husband.
Sasuke was frozen behind a decorative garden stone, a scream trapped in his throat. His world had ended in the span of ten seconds. The figure stood over the bodies of his parents for a moment, then turned its head, as if sensing the tiny, terrified presence in the garden.
Two eyes, glowing with a faint, malevolent light, locked directly onto his. Sasuke felt his soul turn to ice. This was it. He was next.
But the villain didn't move. He simply stared, his gaze dismissive, analytical, and utterly contemptuous. A voice, cold and devoid of any emotion, echoed in the ruined courtyard, a voice that would haunt Sasuke's dreams for the rest of his life.
"You are weak," it said. "Too weak to even merit being killed."
And then, he was gone. Not in a flash of speed or a puff of smoke. He simply dissolved back into the shadows that birthed him, leaving nothing behind but devastation and a shattered little boy.
Sasuke remained crouched in the dark, the villain's words branding themselves onto his very being. It wasn't mercy that had spared him. It was scorn. He was nothing. A bug not even worth the effort to crush.
The distant sound of sirens finally began to pierce the silence. A single, hot tear escaped Sasuke's eye, tracing a clean path through the dirt and grime on his cheek. In the ruins of his home, surrounded by the ghosts of his family, his childhood ended and his vengeful vow began.