Konoha Year 56, July, Night!
The chirping of summer insects had fallen completely silent at some point; in the shadows, two figures stood soundlessly.
The man wearing a swirl-patterned one-eyed mask let out a low, muffled laugh: "Then, according to the plan, leave the elites of the Police Force to me. As for the interior of the Uchiha territory... you will 'clean up' personally."
Uchiha Itachi did not respond; he didn't even look at the mask, only giving a slight nod.
The Masked Man left, and Itachi's gaze swept over several figures looming under the distant eaves—that was Danzo's 'Root'.
They silently surrounded the place, ensuring that not a single member of the Uchiha Clan would escape.
Uchiha Itachi sighed inwardly, a nearly imperceptible ripple spreading in the depths of his heart.
Sasuke... sorry, I can't spend your eighth birthday with you anymore.
He had originally prepared a new set of Shuriken, thinking he would see that bright and slightly proud smile when his younger brother received the gift.
But... all soft thoughts were stripped away and frozen in an instant.
When Itachi looked up again, those pitch-black pupils had turned into a sea of crimson, three Tomoe slowly rotating within them, as cold as if devoid of any human emotion.
"Let's begin."
Before his voice had even faded, his figure blended into the deeper darkness like a ghost.
Inside the clan grounds, the silence was broken by the first strange sound.
A bleary-eyed middle-aged man opened the door, rubbing his eyes as he leaned out.
"What's all the noise..."
His complaint came to an abrupt halt.
Under the moonlight, he saw the figure standing in the center of the courtyard.
The man breathed a sigh of relief, with a hint of confusion: "Young Clan Head? It's so late, why are you..."
In the next second, a cold light flashed.
The man didn't even see how the short blade appeared; he only felt a chill in his throat. He stumbled a step, covering the gushing warm liquid with both hands, staring incredulously at the Young Clan Head he once revered and followed.
His vision blurred rapidly; he used his last strength to squeeze out a few broken syllables from his blood-filled throat: "Wh... y..."
Itachi looked at his falling body, his eyes like eternal ice, his voice terrifyingly calm:
"An arrogant clan has no value in existing."
The slaughter formally began.
Screams, cries of alarm, the clashing of blades... lights were lit one by one, then extinguished in an instant.
"Enemy attack! It's an enemy attack!"
"No... it's Itachi! It's Uchiha Itachi!"
"Why?! The Young Clan Head has gone mad! He killed Kenta!"
"Stop him! Go notify the Police Force, quickly!"
In the chaos, people tried to organize a resistance.
However, all the main roads leading to the outside world and the areas where the clan's elites were stationed were completely blocked by an elusive Masked Man.
Obito's figure flickered in the vortex of Space-time; the Uchiha elites had their Sharingan, but they couldn't even touch the corner of his clothes before being dragged into another dimension in shock, or directly twisted and torn apart.
For the remaining people, their resistance appeared so pale before Itachi.
Itachi's movements were concise and efficient, like the most precise killing machine.
Shuriken, Kunai, Genjutsu... all the techniques the Uchiha were proud of became the butcher's knives for exterminating the clan in his hands.
Every strike went straight for the vitals, with no redundant movements and not a hint of hesitation.
A young mother holding a baby in swaddling clothes knelt in a pool of blood, kowtowing frantically to the figure approaching like a Shinigami, tears and snot flowing: "Itachi! Young Clan Head! I beg you... the child is innocent! Spare my child! Kill me, I only ask you to spare him!"
Itachi's steps didn't even pause for a moment.
The cold light of a Kunai swept past.
The mother's plea and the infant's cry both came to an abrupt halt.
He couldn't stop, there could be no exceptions.
Danzo and 'Root' were watching, and that Masked Man was watching too.
Any survivor would become a death warrant for Sasuke's future.
For Sasuke to live, to live with the identity of an "Avenger," he had to perform this act to the extreme, using the blood of the entire clan to pave the way for his younger brother's future.
Itachi moved through the familiar streets and alleys, his blade rising and falling... the clamor of the clan grounds gradually returned to a dead silence.
It was time to complete... the final and most difficult task.
"Are you back? Itachi."
Fugaku's voice was surprisingly calm; he didn't look back.
Mikoto looked up, her gaze toward her son filled with unspeakable pain.
Itachi stopped at the door, the Kunai in his hand still dripping warm blood.
The smell of blood on him instantly filled the entire room.
"Where's Sasuke?" Fugaku asked.
"At school... he won't be back tonight." Itachi's voice was dry and hoarse.
"Is that so... that's good then." Fugaku slowly, finally, turned around.
He didn't activate his Sharingan, but just looked at his eldest son, whom he was so proud of, with a pair of calm eyes that had seen through everything.
At this moment, there was no questioning, no scolding, no resistance.
The air was heavy enough to be suffocating.
"Itachi, from the day you chose to become a Double Agent and shoulder the dual responsibilities of the Village and the clan, I knew that you would eventually face an incredibly cruel choice."
Uchiha Fugaku paused, his voice low and clear as he spoke the cruel truth.
"And now, you have chosen the Village."
This was not a question, but a statement.
A father's confirmation of his son's final decision.
Itachi's body trembled almost imperceptibly.
He gripped the Kunai tightly, his knuckles turning white from excessive force.
He couldn't look directly at his father's overly calm gaze, nor could he bear his mother's silent grief.
Fugaku looked at him and, finally, slowly closed his eyes.
What appeared on his face was not hatred, but a kind of... relief and approval.
"So this is... the path you've chosen."
"In that case, our positions are clear."
"Itachi, promise me one last thing."
Itachi looked up, and in his crimson Sharingan, tears finally welled up uncontrollably, sliding down his blood-stained cheeks.
Fugaku's voice carried a determined tenderness: "Don't hurt Sasuke. This is... our only condition, and the last task... you must complete."
At this moment, all his strength collapsed.
Itachi's tears gushed out like a broken dam.
He understood; his father had seen through everything long ago.
Uchiha Mikoto looked at her son tenderly, tears also falling as she said softly: "Itachi, after this... it will be just you... you must... take good care of yourself..."
No resistance, no complaints.
Fugaku and Mikoto, the head and the lady of the Uchiha Clan, waited calmly and composedly for their predetermined fate.
They used their own lives as the final bargaining chip to protect their younger son and fulfill their eldest son's conviction.
Others: ???
Itachi raised the Kunai in his hand.
A cold light flashed past under the warm light of the lamps.