Whoosh!
A massive murder of crows swooped down toward Kurozawa Ren. As they reached him, the crows twisted midair, folding into a single form...
A young man wearing a Konoha forehead protector stood before Ren. He had distinct tear troughs beneath his eyes and three tomoe spinning in each of his crimson Sharingan. His presence exuded lethal intent.
"Nii-san..."
Ren instantly recognized the figure, and his heart surged with emotion and relief—but his body was too drained to speak.
"Suiton: Suijinheki!"
(Water Style: Water Formation Wall!)
A towering wall of water surged forth, intercepting the eight kunai, each tagged with explosive notes. A thunderous blast followed, but Ren was completely protected.
Just before blacking out, Ren heard a soft murmur.
"Forgive me, Sasuke. I'm late."
Overwhelmed, Ren finally lost consciousness. His spirit weapon—Flameborne City—dissolved into spirit particles and scattered. Of the attackers, only five Uchiha insurgents remained standing.
Upon seeing Uchiha Itachi, they immediately fled. But as one of them turned a corner, another Itachi appeared, charging forward without hesitation.
Boom!
Bunshin Daibakuha!
(Clone Great Explosion!)
The explosion rocked the alleyway. One of Uchiha Setsuna's arms was obliterated, but he dared not look back. Even possessing a fully developed Sharingan, he knew Itachi's genjutsu prowess was overwhelming—hesitation would be fatal.
Setsuna disappeared into the shadows, but Itachi did not pursue. His priority was Sasuke's safety. The others, however, would not escape judgment.
"Genjutsu: Shiranui."
Itachi's gaze locked onto the five remaining Uchiha. In an instant, their pupils dilated and their bodies froze, drenched in cold sweat. Agony twisted their features as their minds were consumed by illusionary flame.
The Tsukuyomi-style torture Itachi had refined made them feel as if they were burning alive.
After extracting the truth from them—how they'd ambushed Sasuke, who ordered the attack—Itachi uttered quietly:
"You may die now."
Lifelessly, each Uchiha picked up a kunai and, with blank eyes, slit their own throats. There was no resistance—only the silence of absolute obedience.
To Itachi, Sasuke was his forbidden line. Anyone who crossed it—regardless of blood—would be annihilated.
With the threat neutralized, Itachi lifted Sasuke into his arms and dashed toward home. A quick scan had shown Sasuke suffered only from chakra exhaustion.
Itachi had just returned from a Black Ops mission. Upon learning Sasuke had entered the Ninja Academy today, he planned to pick him up. He hadn't expected to stumble upon such a nightmare.
Even now, Itachi's heart trembled—if he had been any later, Sasuke might have been lost.
That evening…
Inside the Uchiha household, Itachi and Mikoto stood by Sasuke's bedside. He had yet to wake. The previous night's events had already triggered a fierce response.
Upon learning what happened, Uchiha Fugaku had mobilized search teams to hunt Setsuna down. The air in the compound was tense. Many sensed that this incident could ignite a wider crisis.
"Sasuke… Sasuke…"
Mikoto gently shook her son, placing a bowl of warm rice porridge on the table beside the bed. But Sasuke showed no sign of waking.
"He should've woken up by now," Mikoto whispered, frowning.
"His vitals are fine," Itachi added, his voice low. "The clan medics confirmed it's chakra depletion. But... something's wrong. He's unresponsive."
Creak—
The door opened sharply. Fugaku entered, barely concealing the fury in his eyes. He cast a glance at Sasuke and asked grimly:
"What's his condition?"
"He's stable, but unconscious," Itachi replied.
"Where's Setsuna?" Itachi asked, eyes narrowing.
Fugaku's voice hardened.
"Gone. That traitor defected—along with over fifty Uchiha."
Shock rippled through the room.
Fugaku's fists clenched. "By the time we reached his residence, he and his followers had already vanished beyond Konoha's outer perimeter. Witnesses confirmed he led the exodus."
Fugaku was livid—not just at Setsuna's attack on Sasuke, but at the wider consequences. This schism came at the worst possible time.
The Uchiha had just begun mending relations with the village. Public sentiment had eased after clans from across Konoha were included in the Police Force. Now, Setsuna's defection could drag them back into the shadows of suspicion.
"When word spreads, we'll be vilified again," Fugaku growled. "If not handled properly, we'll be worse off than before the Fourth Hokage took office."
He glanced at Itachi.
"The Hokage has summoned me. Watch over Sasuke."
Itachi nodded silently.
A moment later, a Uchiha guard knelt just outside the door.
"Clan Head. Hokage-sama requests your presence."
"Understood," Fugaku replied, then disappeared through the door.
Inside, Itachi looked down at Sasuke's still face. He gently brushed his brother's bangs aside, voice low with anguish.
"Please wake up, Sasuke..."
---
"Ren..."
"Ren..."
Who's calling me?
In the depths of unconsciousness, Kurozawa Ren heard a resonant voice calling to him. It was sharp, metallic—like the ring of a drawn blade. Definitely male. And unmistakably... not from this world.
As if caught in a current, his spirit was pulled.
Slowly regaining awareness, Ren became increasingly confused. That voice didn't refer to him as Sasuke—it called him by his true name. And it wasn't the system's voice, either.
After what felt like a surge of static and light, Ren opened his eyes.
What he saw stunned him.
He stood in a vast forest of silver. Towering white blades jutted from the earth like trees, each stretching several meters into the air, gleaming beneath a ghostly sun.
Where... is this?
His mouth parted in awe.
"Ren."
The voice echoed again, clearer now—sharper, as if honed on steel.
Ren's gaze shifted upward.
Atop the highest blade in the metallic jungle stood a lone figure, silhouetted against the light.
Dressed in flowing white robes, the figure was hard to discern at first. Then, in a single motion, the man leapt from his perch.
He descended like a sword stroke—swift and clean. Just before touching the ground, his speed decelerated unnaturally. With a graceful twist, he landed lightly. His robes settled like falling snow.
Now that he stood closer, Ren could finally make him out.
The man was strikingly handsome. His silver-white hair cascaded down his back. His expression was severe, his eyes piercing. On his right brow glowed the mark of a slender, vertical blade.
There was no mistaking the aura he carried—it was the essence of Zanpakutō.
The man stepped forward and said:
"We finally meet, Kurozawa Ren."