Deep in the Fire Country border wilds, ancient trees sliced the sky into jagged shards like nature's own razor wire.
Moonlight clawed through the canopy, droppin' weak-ass polka dots on the forest floor.
Uchiha Makoto's ticker? Flatlined. Corpse goin' full rigor on a bed of dead leaves, ice-cold and stiff.
Dark-red blood gleamed wrong under the pale glow.
Few yards off, Itachi face-planted in the dirt, out cold.
Two half-dried blood-tear tracks carved down his ghost-pale cheeks—brutal. Even knocked out, brows knotted like he was still gettin' tortured in dreamland.
Dead silence. Just wind rustlin' leaves and some far-off beast growlin' like it smelled dinner.
Then—blink—a faint golden speck sparked over Makoto's chest.
Started mosquito-sized, flickerin' like it'd poof any second.
Next breath? Explosion of gold. Dense, dazzling, a whole-ass Milky Way of light particles erupted, torchin' the darkness like God hit the floodlights.
"The hell...?"
Shisui—freshly popped Mangekyō eyes spinnin' like slot reels—snapped his head up, jaw on the floor.
Instant Body Flicker legend, seen every jutsu under the sun. Never this holy-weird shit.
Gold motes danced like they were alive, pourin' outta every pore. Heavenly sand rain, warm, sacred vibes.
Swarmed Makoto, cocoonin' him in a glowy-ass light egg. Surface shimmerin' like somethin' rebirthin' inside.
Shisui reached—hand phased right through. Could see it, couldn't touch. Like a hologram from another dimension.
"No fucking way..." Shisui muttered, Mangekyō whirlin' overtime, tryna decode. Nada.
Before his brain rebooted—next-level freakout.
Makoto's corpse? Disintegratin' from the toes up. Turnin' into finer gold dust, floatin' up like reverse rain. Sand art in a breeze, majestic and terrifying.
Shisui's mind blanked. Primal panic—beyond comprehension—clamped his chest.
Instinct: claw at the vanishin' light. Every jutsu, every grab—nothin'. Phased through his palms, faded to transparent, gone.
Whole show? Seconds. Where Makoto lay? Just blood-soaked, dusty clothes floppin' in the wind.
Zero trace. Like the kid never existed.
"Makoto... vanished? How the fuck...!"
Shisui stared at the rag-doll outfit, then at coma-boy Itachi.
Absurdity, what-the-shit, and soul-crushing dread drowned him. Cold sweat, spine ice.
This nuked everything he knew about the ninja world.
"Are you shitting me...!?"
"Makoto's body just ghosted right in front of me—what the actual fuck is this!?"
Brain on overdrive, close to fryin'. Mangekyō? Useless—just made the unknown scarier.
Itachi's gonna wake up askin' "Where's my brother?"
What's he supposed to say? "Yeah, bro turned into glitter and yeeted into the sky"?
Itachi'll blame him. Failed to guard his savior's corpse.
Shisui's gut twisted. First time ever—wanted to bolt.
He knew Itachi's obsession with Makoto. Pathological.
But this? Beyond ninjutsu, genjutsu, kekkei genkai. Beyond the world.
No explanation.
Heavy as a black hole. Shisui wished he'd passed out too.
Forest smothered in silence. Wind. Leaves.
Time crawled.
Itachi's lashes twitched. Eyes snapped open.
Dazed—then memory tsunami: Kumo escape, Makoto's chakra burnout, death in his arms... Mangekyō pop, blackout.
Head whipped to the side—praying it was a nightmare.
Just empty clothes. Brother's body? Gone.
"Makoto..." Voice gravel, then wild hope flashed. "Wait—"
Brain lit up: Fake memories!
Why else would the corpse vanish? Shisui wouldn't strip and hide it.
Looked at Shisui—cowering in the shadows, face wrecked.
Hope dimmed, but clung. Voice shook: "Shisui... where's Makoto?"
Shisui cringed harder. Failed his best friend, his debt-or. Wanted to vanish.
Mouth opened—no sound. Throat bobbin'. Finally choked:
"Makoto... turned into light and flew away."
"Light? Flew?"
Itachi frowned. Words made sense separate—together? Gibberish.
"His body's gone..." Shisui muttered, head down, dodging eyes.
Itachi's brows locked, Mangekyō flared—ominous red in the dark.
"Shisui. Every detail. What. Happened."
Deep breath. Shisui spilled—gold sparks, cocoon, disintegration, poof.
Every word sounded insane, but true.
Itachi went statue.
Forest: wind, bugs. Suffocating silence.
Shisui begged for a scream, a punch, anything.
Itachi's blank face? Terrifying.
His brain? Chaos. Despair crater, but a spark:
Body-to-light? Never in history. Makoto always pulled impossible shit.
Maybe not dead? Maybe coming back?
Hope flickered—candle in a hurricane.
Then reality: chakra zero, heart stopped, corpse cold.
Even Hashirama couldn't respawn.
His fault. Dragged Makoto into the rescue. Killed him.
Blood tears streamed again.
Then—Makoto's dying words: Kumo snatch = Konoha plot.
Murderous glare.
Can't let the bastards live. Investigation. Now.
The light thing? Lock it in the vault.
No answers.