Fujin Uchiha POV –
The last thing I remembered was the scent of rain and blood.
I stood at the threshold of my ancestral home, the Uchiha compound's main gate. The night was moonless, the air thick with unshed rain and the metallic tang of violence. Behind me, inside the compound I had sworn to protect, my clan was dying. The screams had dwindled to sporadic clashes of steel and the wet, final sounds of a slaughter being efficiently concluded.
My brother, Fugaku, was already dead. I had felt his chakra snuff out minutes ago, a bonfire suddenly turned to ash. My wife, Delia, and my son, Indra, were safe—far from here, in a remote town in the Land of Fire. That knowledge was the only coal of warmth in the ice quickly forming in my chest.
I had stayed behind. Not for the clan's doomed rebellion—a plot I had argued against until I was blue in the face—but to buy time. To create a distraction. To be the last, loudest target so that any ROOT eyes watching would be fixed on me, not on the secret messenger hawk carrying my final scroll of techniques to my family.
They came from the shadows. Not ANBU. These were something else. Cold, silent, their chakra suppressed to nothing. ROOT. Danzo's private army. Five of them. They moved with a unison that spoke of a single mind.
I fought. By the Sage, I fought. My Three-Tomoe Sharingan spun, predicting every strike, every thrown kunai. My Fire Release lit up the courtyard. I took two of them down, my katana finding throats and hearts. But they didn't falter. They didn't scream. They were tools, and broken tools are simply discarded.
A senbon, tipped with a paralytic, grazed my thigh. My leg buckled. A moment of weakness. That's all it took.
The leader, a man with no features behind his mask, stepped forward. His blade was a simple, straight-edged ninjato. No flourish. No words. Just a professional executing a task.
I saw it coming. My Sharingan traced the angle, the force. I had a hundred countermeasures in mind, but my body, slowing from the poison, couldn't keep up. I thought of Delia's smile. Of Indra's serious, dark eyes as he concentrated on a chakra exercise. I hoped my message had reached them. I hoped they would run.
The blade entered my chest, just below the sternum. A cold, precise intrusion. There was pain, a shocking, bright burst of it, then a swift numbness spreading outward. I didn't fall immediately. I looked into the featureless mask of my killer, pouring every ounce of my will, my defiance, into my Sharingan, hoping to brand this moment, this face, into my soul's memory.
Fujin: "My son... will know... your face..."
The ROOT agent didn't react. He twisted the blade. The world greyed at the edges. The sounds of the dying compound faded into a ringing silence. The last thing I felt was not fear, but a profound, crushing regret. Not for my own death, but for the future I would not see. For the son I would not watch grow.
Then, nothing.
A void. Not peace. Not pain. Just... an absence. A suspension. Occasionally, in the nothingness, I thought I heard whispers. A distant, booming laugh. The crackle of lightning. The soft voice of my wife. The determined tone of my son, older, stronger. Phantoms in the dark.
Time had no meaning. I was a ghost clinging to a single, fading photograph: the memory of my family.
Then, a tug.
A light, faint at first, then irresistible. A beacon that resonated with the very core of my being. It felt like... home. Like my own chakra, but purer, brighter. It pulled at me, drawing me out of the void.
I resisted at first. Death was my sentence. My failure. I did not deserve...
But the light was insistent. And within it, I felt a will I recognized. A stubborn, brilliant, loving will. Indra.
I let go. I moved toward the light.
The Third Raikage POV –
Pain was an old friend. Exhaustion was a familiar foe. But this... this was totality.
I stood in a crater of my own making, surrounded by ten thousand enemy shinobi. The air reeked of ozone, burnt earth, and blood. My Lightning Release Armor flickered, its once-impenetrable glow now dim, sustained by sheer, stubborn will alone. Three days. Three nights. I had held this pass. I had broken battalions. My men—my brave, foolish, loyal men—had escaped. That was the mission. That was the victory.
My body was a tapestry of wounds. A spear of ice from a Kiri ninja was still lodged in my side. My right arm hung limp, dislocated and burned. My vision swam with fatigue and blood loss.
But I was A, the Third Raikage. I would die on my feet.
They circled me now, wary, like wolves around a wounded bear. They knew I had one last roar in me.
Third Raikage: "IS THAT ALL?! COME ON! WHO'S NEXT TO EARN THEIR PLACE IN HELL BY MY HAND?!"
My voice was a raw, thunderous thing. It made the boldest among them flinch.
I thought of my son, A. The brash, powerful boy with a heart too big for his own good. I thought of Killer Bee, the strange, wonderful child I had taken in. I thought of Kumo, my village in the clouds. I had given them strength. I had given them time. It would have to be enough.
A rain of ninjutsu descended—fireballs, water dragons, earth spikes, gusts of wind. I raised my one good arm, channeling the last dregs of my chakra. Hell Spear. A focused, desperate lance of lightning pierced through the onslaught, taking a dozen with it.
But a thousand more took their place.
A colossal stone fist, the combined effort of twenty Iwa ninja, emerged from the ground and struck me in the chest. My armor cracked. The sound was like a mountain splitting. My ribs gave way. I felt the shards puncture my lungs.
I did not fall. I took a step forward, then another. My vision tunneled. The faces of the enemy blurred into a single, hateful mass.
The last thing I saw was the sky—the clear, cold, indifferent sky above the Land of Lightning. Then, a shadow fell across it. A giant, spiked club, wielded by some summon or behemoth, filled my world.
There was an impact. A final, definitive shattering.
Then, the profound, absolute silence of oblivion.
But not even oblivion could hold me for long. My will was not so easily extinguished.
In the darkness, I felt a pull. A familiar, stubborn, lightning-like chakra. My son's chakra, but matured, tempered, and intertwined with something else—something brilliant and orderly. And alongside it, a beacon of pure, physical potential that called to my own soul like a lodestone.
A voice, not heard but felt, echoed in the void.
Voice (Indra): "Your fight is not over. Your village needs its foundation. Come back."
A challenge. A summons. How could I refuse?
I turned my will toward the light and charged.
Joint POV –
Sensation returned in a confusing rush.
The sterile scent of antiseptic and ozone. The hum of advanced machinery. The feel of cool, soft sheets against skin. The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor.
Fujian Uchiha opened his eyes. The ceiling was smooth, white, and unfamiliar. He turned his head. He was in a clean, spacious room with large windows showing a breathtaking view of ocean and sky. The light was wrong. It felt... new.
He looked at his hands. They were young, strong, unmarked by the calluses and scars he remembered. He sat up, muscles responding with a fluid ease he hadn't known since his twenties. He was wearing simple, comfortable gray clothing.
Across the room, another man was stirring. A giant of a man with a shaved head and a stern face, clad in similar clothes. His eyes snapped open—sharp, intelligent, and blazing with latent power. The Third Raikage.
Their eyes met. Recognition flickered, followed by profound confusion. They had known each other in life, respected each other as leaders of rival villages. Now, they were... here.
Third Raikage: "Uchiha."
Fujian: "Raikage."
Their voices were their own, yet fresh, vibrant.
The door slid open silently. A young man walked in. He had spiky black hair, sharp features, and wore a tailored gray uniform. His eyes were a deep, thoughtful black. But as he looked at them, those eyes shifted. The pupils bled crimson, and an intricate, geometric pattern of black tomoe spun within them—a Sharingan unlike any Fujian had ever seen.
Fujian: "Indra...?"
The name left his lips as a whisper. This was his son, but a man grown. A leader. And those eyes... they held the weight of ages.
Indra: "Father. Lord Third. Welcome back."
He walked forward, calm, but Fujian could see the immense emotion held in check behind that disciplined facade.
Third Raikage: "Back? Boy, explain. The last I knew, I was decorating a mountain with Iwa's finest. Now I'm in... a very nice hospital room?"
Indra: "You are on Turtle Island, a secure Kumo facility. The date is approximately thirteen years after your respective deaths. You have been returned to life through a combination of advanced cloning, genetic synthesis, and a modified Uzumaki soul-transference technique."
He said it with the calm of a scientist presenting findings. The two resurrected men stared at him, trying to process the impossible.
Fujian: "Cloning? Soul transfer? Indra... what have you done?"
Indra: "I have corrected an injustice. For you, father. For the Third Raikage. And for thirteen Uchiha children who were murdered alongside you."
He brought up a holographic display from a device on his wrist, showing the growth tanks, the genetic maps, the soul resonance charts. He explained, clearly and concisely, the entire Project Phoenix.
Fujian listened, his heart hammering against his new, strong ribs. The scale of it... the audacity... the sheer, terrifying genius. His son had conquered death itself. Not for power, but for family. For justice.
Fujian: "The children... they are alive? They have no memory?"
Indra: "They are alive, well, and being integrated into the Uzumaki clan in Kumo. They remember nothing of the massacre. They have a clean slate."
Tears, hot and unexpected, welled in Fujian's eyes. He looked away, overcome. The Uchiha were not extinct. Their legacy, purified and strengthened, lived on.
The Third Raikage was stroking his chin, his sharp eyes analyzing every piece of data.
Third Raikage: "So. You fished my soul out of the pure lands, stuck it in a shiny new body, and brought me back because Kumo needs its 'foundation.' That what you're saying?"
Indra: "In part. Your son, the Fourth Raikage, also wished it. Deeply. He has built upon your legacy, but he has always carried the weight of your absence."
A shadow crossed the Third's face. "A. My boy. How is he?"
Indra: "He is waiting to see you. As is... someone else."
Indra looked at his father. The composure finally cracked, just a hair. "Mother is here."
Fujian's breath caught. Delia.
They were led to a open veranda overlooking the endless ocean. The sun was setting, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and purples. Two figures stood silhouetted against the light.
One was a mountain of muscle, blue armor reflecting the sunset, arms crossed. The Fourth Raikage, A.
The other was a woman with dark Uchiha hair, wearing a medic-nin's coat over a simple dress. Delia.
Fujian stopped, his new heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Thirteen years. She looked older, beautiful, with lines of wisdom and grief around her eyes, but her posture was strong, unbent.
Delia turned. Her eyes found her husband. They widened. The clipboard she was holding clattered to the ground.
For a moment, there was absolute silence, broken only by the wind and the distant cry of gulls.
Then Delia Uchiha, the calm, professional head medic of Kumo, exploded into motion. She didn't run to Fujian. She turned on her son, her hand lashing out in a slap that echoed across the cliffs.
Delia: "YOU IDIOT! YOU RECKLESS, PRECOCIOUS, IMPOSSIBLE BOY! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE? THE RISKS? THE... THE SACRILEGE?!"
The slap didn't move Indra an inch, but his cheek reddened. He stood there, taking it, his eyes full of understanding.
Indra: "I do, mother. Every one."
Delia: "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN TRAPPED! YOU COULD HAVE TORN YOUR SOUL APART! YOU COULD HAVE... HAVE..." Her fury broke, dissolving into a torrent of tears. She collapsed against his chest, her fists weakly pounding his shoulders. "You brought him back... you brought him back..."
Indra wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she wept decades of lonely grief. Over her shoulder, his eyes met his father's. See? This is why.
Fujian took a hesitant step forward, then another. Delia pulled back from Indra, her tear-streaked face turning to her husband. She looked at him—young, strong, the man she had married, not the ghost she had mourned.
Delia: "Fujian...?"
Fujian: "Delia. My star."
She crossed the distance between them in two steps and embraced him, burying her face in his neck. His arms came around her, holding her as if she were the only real thing in this strange new world. They stood there, clinging to each other, while the sun dipped lower, painting them in gold.
Delia: (Muffled against his chest) "You idiot too. Leaving us. Playing the hero."
Fujian: "I had to. To give you time. Did you get my scroll?"
Delia: "We did. We ran. We lived. Because of you." She pulled back, cupping his face. "And our son... our impossible, miraculous son... he brought you home."
Meanwhile, the two Raikages faced each other. The Fourth, A, stood rigid, his usual bluster gone, replaced by a vulnerability he showed to no one else.
Fourth Raikage A: "Old man."
Third Raikage: "A. You got big. And you're still wearing that ridiculous hat."
A choked laugh burst from A. He stepped forward, and instead of a formal bow, he wrapped his father in a crushing hug. The Third Raikage, after a moment of surprise, returned it with equal force, pounding his son's back.
Third Raikage: "Let me look at you." He held A at arm's length. "You've led them well. I've been... watching, in a way. Feeling the village's spirit. It's stronger. Brighter. And more... interesting than I left it."
A: "That's him." He jerked a thumb at Indra, who was now watching the reunions with a soft, unguarded smile. "The kid. He's... he's rebuilt Kumo from the ground up. Made it into a fortress even you couldn't crack."
Third Raikage: "So I hear. I want a full briefing. And I want to see this 'Thunderhead.' But first..." He looked over at Fujian and Delia, now speaking softly, foreheads touching. "Let them have their time."
Later That Evening – Family Dinner
A simple meal was served in the Turtle Island facility's common room. The mood was a complex, beautiful tapestry of joy, disbelief, and lingering shock.
Fujian sat beside Delia, their hands intertwined under the table. He listened, enraptured, as she told him of their life in Kumo—her clinic, her work, the Raikage's kindness. She told him of Indra's childhood, his genius, his inventions.
Delia: "He graduated the academy in six months, Fujian. Six. He built a barrier that can sense emotion. He made seeds that grow in any soil. He... he fixed the Sharingan. His eyes are Eternal, and he did it with science."
Fujian looked at his son with awe. "The Mangekyō... you awakened it?"
Indra: "When Obito Uchiha tried to kidnap mother from our home in Kumo."
Fujian's grip on Delia's hand tightened. "Obito...? He's alive?"
Indra: "He is. And he is a core member of the Akatsuki, the organization we now face. He was the one who attacked Konoha with the Nine-Tails. He was manipulated, but his crimes are his own. I will deal with him."
The calm certainty in Indra's voice sent a shiver down Fujian's spine. This was not the boy he left behind. This was a sovereign, a power in his own right.
The Third Raikage was busy grilling his son about Kumo's military readiness, growling in approval at the mention of the Lightning Armor Corps' new training regimens, and barking a laugh when A described Bee's latest "masterpiece rap."
Third Raikage: "That boy still can't rhyme to save his life, but he's got spirit! And he's a perfect Jinchuriki, you say? No friction with Gyūki?"
A: "None. Thanks to Indra again. He brokered a peace. Gave the beast an avatar to walk around in. They're partners now."
The Third shook his head, looking at Indra with newfound respect. "You've changed everything, boy. The very rules of the game."
The door slid open. A new figure entered, carrying a tray of desserts. A young woman with stunning crimson hair and eyes the color of amethyst. She moved with a warrior's grace and a gentle smile.
Rias: "Sorry I'm late. The medics needed a second opinion on little Hikari's chakra pathways. All stable." She set the tray down and her eyes immediately found Indra, the love in them plain for anyone to see.
Indra: "Father, Lord Third. This is Rias Uzumaki. My partner."
Rias bowed respectfully, first to the Third Raikage, then to Fujian. When she straightened, her gaze was warm but assessing, meeting Fujian's Sharingan without a trace of fear.
Fujian: "Uzumaki. Delia's kin."
Rias: "By blood and by choice, sir. It is an honor to finally meet you. Indra has told me much about you. All of it good."
Fujian felt a smile tug at his lips. He could see it—the strength in her, the loyalty, the fierce intelligence that matched his son's. He could also see the way Indra's posture relaxed slightly when she entered the room. This woman was his anchor.
Fujian: "The honor is mine. Thank you... for watching over him."
Rias: "He watches over all of us. I just try to make sure he remembers to come down from the stratosphere now and then."
Indra actually rolled his eyes, a shockingly boyish gesture that made Fujian's heart ache with happiness.
The rest of the meal was filled with easier conversation. The Third Raikage demanded details about the "Raijin" vehicle. Fujian asked about Sasuke, and Indra gave a careful, hopeful report. Delia and Rias talked medical shop. It was, against all odds, normal. A family dinner.
Later, Fujian found Indra standing on a cliff edge, looking at the moon's reflection on the dark water.
Fujian: "You carry a weight no one man should bear, son."
Indra: "I have the shoulders for it. And I am not alone." He glanced at his father. "I never was. Even when you were gone, your choices protected us. Your love guided us. Now, you are here. That weight is lighter already."
Fujian stood beside him, looking at the man his boy had become. "The children... you gave them a pure start. No hatred, no trauma. That is a greater gift than life itself."
Indra: "They are Uzumaki now. But they carry the Uchiha legacy, perfected. When they are ready, they will know their history. Not as a burden, but as a foundation. They will choose their own path."
Fujian: "And my path?"
Indra: "Yours and Lord Third's. You are here, but you are also legends. Your return, if revealed, would cause chaos. For now, Turtle Island is your home. A place to heal, to train, to adapt. Mother has already informed the hospital she is taking an indefinite sabbatical. She will stay here with you."
Fujian's breath caught. "She would... leave her work?"
Indra: "Her work is healing. And there is no greater healing for her than being with you. She will have a fully equipped lab here. She can continue her research. And she can be your guide back to the world of the living."
Tears threatened again. Fujian blinked them back. "And what will you do?"
Indra: "I will continue to fortify Kumo. We face a war with the Akatsuki. A war for the fate of the Tailed Beasts and the world itself. Having you and the Third as... unseen guardians, as a final line of defense no one knows exists, is a tactical advantage beyond measure. But more than that... it is my family, whole again."
He turned to face his father fully.
Indra: "Welcome home, father. Truly, welcome home."
The Third Raikage's Decision
In the training yard carved into the island's heart, the Third Raikage faced his son. Lightning crackled around them both, blue against blue.
Third Raikage: "You've improved the Armor! More focused. Less wasteful. Good!"
A: "Indra's gravity chambers. They force efficiency."
They clashed, a shockwave of force and lightning rolling outward. It was a spar, but it was also a conversation, a reaffirmation of legacy.
Afterward, sweating and grinning, they sat on a rocky outcrop.
Third Raikage: "This island... it's a good prison."
A: "It's not a prison, old man. It's a sanctuary. And a strategic reserve. The world thinks you're a statue on a mountain. Let them. When the time comes, and we need a hammer nobody expects... you'll be there."
Third Raikage: "Hah! I like the way you think. But I'm not just going to sit here and watch the waves. I want updates. I want training regimens for your troops. I want to spar with that boy of yours—see what his 'Storm Monarch' can do. And I want to meet this Bee and his octopus properly."
A: "All in good time. For now, get used to the new world. A lot has changed. The balance of power, the technology... the very idea of what a village can be."
Third Raikage: "I see it. And I'm proud, son. You built higher than I ever dreamed." He looked out at the ocean, his expression turning serious. "This Akatsuki... they want my grandson Bee, and the Nii girl?"
A: "They want all of them. To resurrect the Ten-Tails."
The Third's chakra spiked, a furious, protective storm. "Over my twice-dead body."
A: "That's the idea."
Two Weeks Later
Fujian and Delia walked along the beach, hand in hand. A simple house had been built for them—not a lab, a home. Her medical equipment was in a separate wing. His old katana, recovered and restored by Indra, hung in a place of honor.
He was learning about the new Kumo, studying the Thunderhead system, the Eagle and Elephant Clans, the geopolitical web his son had woven. He was in awe, every day.
But the quiet moments were the best. Waking up with Delia's head on his chest. Sharing tea in the morning. Watching the storms roll in over the sea.
One evening, Rias and Indra visited via a spatial gateway (a display of power that still made Fujian's head spin). They brought news from the village, and a package.
Rias: "From the children. Well, from the caregivers. Drawings."
Fujian opened the package. Inside were crayon drawings—crude, joyful pictures of the sun, of Kumo's towers, of smiling people. One, from the oldest boy, was of a man with black hair and red eyes, standing protectively in front of a group of smaller figures. At the bottom, in careful letters: Thank you, Uncle Fujian.
He had to sit down.
Delia: (Smiling through her own tears) "They're beautiful."
Indra: "They know of you. As a brave Uchiha who helped save them. As family. They will meet you when they are older."
Fujin could only nod, the lump in his throat too big for words. His clan was not a ghost. It was a promise, growing stronger every day.
As Indra and Rias prepared to leave, Fujian pulled his son into one more embrace.
Fujin: "I do not know if what you did was right by the laws of gods or men. But it was right by me. Thank you, my son. For the second chance. For her. For everything."
Indra: "Rest, father. Train. Be with mother. The storm is coming, but here, you are safe. We will weather it together."
Indra and Rias stepped through the shimmering spatial rift and were gone.
Delia came to stand beside Fujin, slipping her arm around his waist. They watched the spot where the portal had been, then turned their faces to the endless, hopeful horizon.
On another part of the island, the Third Raikage stood atop the highest cliff, his new, powerful body thrumming with energy. He looked north, towards the distant, unseen lights of Kumogakure. A fierce, proud smile graced his stern face.
He was dead. And now he was alive. And his village, his family, had become something magnificent.
The fight was indeed not over. But for the first time in a long time—for the first time in two lifetimes—the future looked not like an ending, but a dawn.
[System Notification: Emotional Anchor Stability Maximized. 'Family' unit re-established and fortified. Resurrected entities show stable soul-body integration and positive psychological adaptation.]
[Template Synergy: Indra Ōtsutsuki – 87%, Ashina Uzumaki – 81%, Victor Von Doom – 46%]
[Sovereign Foundation Secured: The 'Storm's Heart' (Kumo) now possesses living legends in reserve, ensuring dynasty continuity and unbreakable morale.]
The messages flickered at the edge of Indra's perception as the spatial rift closed behind him on Turtle Island. He dismissed them.
The data was good. The metrics were positive.
But the true result was behind him, on that island: the sound of his mother's laughter, the solid presence of his father, the rumbling approval of a legend reborn.
He had set out to build an impenetrable fortress. He had ended up rebuilding a home.
And with his family whole, there was no force in heaven or earth that could break what he would build next.
Sasuke Uchiha POV –
The weight of the sealed scroll felt like a living thing in my hands. For three days, I'd carried it, this tiny cylinder of possibility and poison that Indra had given me. Do not open it until you are alone, in a place you are certain is secure from all observation. His words echoed in my head, a command that felt more like a lifeline.
I'd found the place. A natural cave system deep in the Nara forestlands, far from any patrol route. I'd spent hours setting up my own rudimentary barrier seals—genjutsu-dispelling tags, chakra-masking arrays I'd painstakingly copied from an obscure library scroll. It wasn't Kumo-level security, but it was the best I could do. If a Hyūga was actively searching for me with a Byakugan from a kilometer away, they'd find me. But for passive surveillance, I was a ghost.
My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. The truth. The thing my entire life had been orbiting since that night. The reason for the emptiness in the compound, the reason for Itachi's eyes, the reason for my own burning, directionless hate.
I broke the wax seal—a combined Uchiha-Uzumaki spiral. The scroll unfurled.
The handwriting was precise, sharp, and devoid of flourishes. It was the writing of someone who dealt in facts, not feelings. Yet the content…
Indra's Letter – Transcript
Sasuke,
If you are reading this, you have followed my instructions. Good. What follows is the unvarnished, complete truth of the Uchiha Clan's destruction, and the wider rot that infected Konoha. I will not soften this. You deserve the facts, not a comforting story.
Part 1: The Architect – Danzo Shimura
The root of the poison is one man: Danzo Shimura, the former head of Konoha's black ops division, ROOT. His philosophy was one of total control. Any entity he could not directly control was seen as a threat to be eliminated or subjugated. His crimes are legion, but those pertaining to our family are these:
The Senju Clan: Following the First Hokage's death, the Senju clan chose to integrate into the village, shedding their clan name to become simply "Konoha shinobi." Danzo saw this not as unity, but as the dilution of a powerful bloodline he could not weaponize. He began a covert campaign of attrition. Senju who left the clan were disproportionately assigned to high-risk missions with compromised intelligence. Others were discreetly sold as prisoners to enemy nations. He systematically eradicated the First Hokage's direct lineage to remove a moral and political counterweight. Tsunade Senju's departure was not just grief; it was an instinctual flight from a village that was murdering her family.* The Uzumaki Clan: my mother's clan. Konoha had a blood oath with Uzushiogakure. When Iwa, Kiri, and Kumo allied to destroy them, Konoha's relief force was "delayed" by 72 hours due to fabricated intelligence. That intelligence came from Danzo. He provided the attackers with detailed breakdowns of Uzushio's defensive seals and patrol routes. He sold our allies to their slaughter because he feared their sealing arts and coveted their genetic legacy. The "scattering" of the Uzumaki was a genocide he facilitated. Your mother, Mikoto Uzumaki, was one of the very few who had married out and thus survived.* The Uchiha Clan: This was his masterpiece. After the Nine-Tails attack, Danzo seized the opportunity. He pushed for the Uchiha's segregation to the compound. He planted ROOT agents within the clan to foment radicalism and agents within the civilian council to spread fear of an Uchiha coup. He created an echo chamber of paranoia, herding the clan toward the very rebellion he then used to justify their extermination. He had already been collecting Sharingan from Uchiha who died in the war under "suspicious circumstances." His goal was to eliminate a clan whose power he feared and to harvest their eyes for his own use.*
Your brother, Itachi, was a genius. At 13, he was already ANBU. Danzo and the Konoha council (excluding the Hokage, who was kept partially in the dark) presented him with an impossible choice: the Uchiha were planning a coup. If it proceeded, it would spark a civil war. Konoha would be weakened, other villages would invade, and the Uchiha would be wiped out regardless. The alternative? A single, surgical strike. Itachi would eliminate the clan himself. In return, you, his beloved brother, would be spared and kept safe in Konoha. They framed it as the only way to save you and to prevent a wider war.
Itachi, a boy who loved the village and loved you, chose to become the monster to save you from a worse fate. He believed he was bearing all the sin so you could live an innocent life. He was wrong. The sin was not his to bear. It was Danzo's.
Shisui Uchiha, the one with the teleportation technique and the Kotoamatsukami, discovered Danzo's plot. He planned to use his Mangekyō ability to subtly change the clan's course and Danzo's mind. Danzo ambushed him, stole his right eye, and left him for dead. Shisui, knowing he was doomed, gave his remaining eye to Itachi and committed suicide, making it look like he drowned to avoid his body being scavenged for the other eye.
Itachi was then a tool with two triggers: Danzo's machinations and his own twisted love for you.
The masked man who helped Itachi that night was not Madara. He is Obito Uchiha, your cousin, presumed dead in the Third War. He was saved and manipulated by the true Madara Uchiha (who is also dead) and a primordial entity called Black Zetsu. Obito's mind was broken by the death of his teammate Rin Nohara, and he was fed a philosophy of despair: that the world is hell, and the only salvation is a grand illusion called the Infinite Tsukuyomi.
Obito was the one who unleashed the Nine-Tails on Konoha, killing the Fourth Hokage and his wife (Naruto's parents). Danzo, ever the opportunist, provided Obito with the time and location of the Nine-Tails' seal's weakness, hoping the chaos would eliminate the Hokage he couldn't control. Obito participated in the Uchiha massacre both to test his power and to collect Sharingan for his own plans. He and Itachi were uneasy, temporary allies of convenience that night.
The order came from Danzo and the Council. Itachi was the blade. Obito was the secondary weapon. They killed every Uchiha in the compound that night. Not just the shinobi. The clerks. The bakers. The teachers. The children. The newborns. Your aunt. Your uncle. Your cousins. They were murdered in their beds, in their kitchens, in their gardens. It was not a battle. It was an extermination.
Itachi spared you because of the deal. He made you hate him so you would grow strong, so you would remain in Konoha as a loyal shinobi, and so you would one day kill him and become a hero who avenged the clan. He wanted to die by your hand as the final piece of his atonement. He walks the world now as a missing-nin, a member of the terrorist group Akatsuki, bearing the weight of a sin that was never truly his.
Itachi and Obito are both members of Akatsuki. Their leader is a man named Pain. Their goal is to capture all nine Tailed Beasts, merge them to resurrect the primordial Ten-Tails, and use its power to cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi—a global genjutsu that will trap all humanity in a dream world. They believe this is "peace." It is annihilation. The destruction required to capture the beasts will ravage the elemental nations. Konoha, with Naruto and the Nine-Tails, is a prime target. So is Kumo, with the Two-Tails and Eight-Tails.
I could not accept this injustice. Using advanced technology and forbidden Uzumaki Fuinjutsu, I have done the following:
Recovered genetic samples from the slain Uchiha children (12 and under). Created new, perfected bodies for them, blending Uchiha and Uzumaki DNA to remove the Sharingan's curse and enhance their vitality. Through a soul-transfer technique, I have called their souls back from the lingering state and placed them in these new bodies.* They have no memory of the massacre. They are being raised in Kumo as Uzumaki, with clean slates and bright futures. I have also done the same for my father, your uncle, Fujian Uchiha. He lives again, reunited with my mother.
The Uchiha clan is not extinct, Sasuke. It has been reborn, purified, and given sanctuary in the Village Hidden in the Clouds. They are safe, loved, and will never know the knife in the dark that took their first lives.
You now hold the truth. It is ugly, brutal, and unfair. Your hatred has been pointed at the wrong target. Itachi is a victim, a child soldier forced into an unimaginable crime. The true enemy is Danzo (now imprisoned and disgraced), the corrupt system that allowed him to flourish, and the external forces like Obito and Akatsuki who feed on such despair.
You have a choice. You can cling to the simple hatred of your brother. Or you can see the larger battlefield. You can protect what remains—Naruto, Sakura, Kakashi, this village that is also a victim of Danzo's cancer. You can become stronger not for revenge, but for protection. You can honor the Uchiha name by ensuring no more children have to die in the dark because of one man's fear.
The path is yours. When you decide what you want to do, send a message. I will hear it.
— Indra Uzumaki-Uchiha
The scroll fell from my numb fingers. I didn't realize I was on my knees until I felt the cold, damp stone of the cave floor.
My breath came in ragged, tearing gasps. The world swam. The carefully constructed reality of my life—the proud clan, the traitor brother, my sacred mission of vengeance—shattered into a million jagged, bloody pieces.
Danzo.
Senju. Uzumaki. Uchiha.
Itachi… a pawn. A child. A victim bearing a mountain of corpses to save… me.
Obito. Alive. The Nine-Tails. The massacre.
The children. The newborns.
A sound escaped me, a raw, wounded animal noise that echoed in the small cave. I vomited, heaving until there was nothing left but bile and horror.
Images flooded my mind, not of Itachi's cold face that night, but of the context I now possessed. My father, Fugaku, was trying to steer the clan away from rebellion while Danzo's agents pushed them toward it—my mother, Mikoto, was living in a compound that was becoming a prison. At thirteen, Itachi was handed the world's worst choice by old men in shadows. Shisui, trying to stop it, had his eye ripped out.
And the children. My cousins. Little Aiko, who followed me around. Baby Kenji, whose birth we celebrated just a month before. Their small bodies, cut down by Itachi's blade or Obito's phasing hand.
They killed the children.
The hatred didn't disappear. It transmuted. It boiled over, but its target was no longer a single, clean point. It was a hydra: Danzo's rotten heart, the Council's cowardice, Obito's madness, the very concept of a world where this could happen.
I thought of Naruto. The idiot who just wanted acknowledgment. His parents were killed because of Danzo and Obito too. He carried a demon fox because of them. He was alone because of them.
I thought of Sakura, who tried so hard. Of Kakashi-sensei, who carried a dead friend's eye and a mountain of guilt.
They weren't part of the conspiracy. They were just… people. Living in the wreckage left by the monsters.
I crawled to the cave wall, leaning my forehead against the cool stone. I cried. Not the angry tears of a vengeful heir, but the shattered, desolate sobs of a boy who had just learned his entire life was a lie built on a mass grave. I cried for my parents. For Itachi. For Shisui. For the clan. For the children. For myself.
Hours passed. The storm of grief and rage slowly subsided, leaving behind a cold, hard, and terrifyingly clear resolve.
I stood up. My legs were shaky, but they held. I picked up the scroll, carefully rerolling it. I would commit every word to memory, then destroy it.
I had a new mission. Not revenge. Protection.
I would get stronger. Not just to kill Itachi. To face the real enemies. To ensure that the monsters who did this—Danzo, Obito, the Akatsuki—could never do it again. To protect the few people left in this rotten village who were worth saving. To honor the Uchiha name not with more blood, but by being a shield against the darkness that consumed them.
And… there was a flicker of something else. A fragile, impossible hope. Indra's words: "The Uchiha clan is not extinct. It has been reborn." He had brought back the children. He had brought back Uncle Fujian.
The clan wasn't just a ghost. It was a seed, planted in distant soil. The thought was so vast, so overwhelming, I had to shelve it. I couldn't process it yet. I focused on the immediate.
I left the cave as the first light of dawn filtered through the trees. I felt hollowed out and remade, fragile as glass yet hard as diamond. I looked towards Konoha, my home and my prison, my sanctuary and my crime scene.
Sasuke: (Whispering to the dawn) "I understand now, brother. You took all the hate so I could see the truth. I won't waste it. I'll protect what you tried to save. And I will make the ones truly responsible pay."
The path was clear. It was just infinitely more complicated than I'd ever imagined.
Seven Months Later – Training Ground 7
The seasons had turned. The heat of summer was giving way to the crispness of early autumn. My training had taken on a new, frenetic quality. Kakashi-sensei had noticed, but he didn't pry. He just pushed me harder, his one eye holding a knowing, sorrowful understanding. He knew some of the truth now, I think. The village was changing under Tsunade. Danzo was gone. The air was cleaner, but the scars were deep.
Naruto was off training with Jiraiya-sama. Sakura was apprenticed to Tsunade, her fists now capable of shattering boulders. I was alone at the training ground, practicing my Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique. I could make it hotter, larger, more controlled. But it felt… insufficient. Against enemies who manipulated space, time, and reality itself, what was a bigger fireball?
A shadow passed overhead. I looked up, expecting a cloud. Instead, I saw a massive, majestic eagle circling high above. It was far larger than any normal bird of prey, its wingspan terrifying. It had distinctive, powerful markings I'd never seen. Kumo.
My heart leapt into my throat. The eagle folded its wings and dove, not at me, but at the clearing beside me. It landed with a gust of wind that kicked up dust and leaves, its talons digging into the earth. It was even bigger up close, its intelligent, golden eyes fixed on me. Tied to its leg was a sealed tube.
It didn't make a sound. It just extended its leg.
Cautiously, I approached. The eagle watched me, its gaze assessing but not hostile. I untied the tube. The moment I had it, the eagle gave a powerful thrust of its wings and launched back into the sky, disappearing into the clouds within seconds.
My hands trembled slightly. This was from Indra. I found a secluded tree stump and sat, breaking the seal. This letter was shorter.
Indra's Second Letter
Sasuke,
Seven months have passed. I hope you have found your footing with the truth. The world continues to turn, and our preparations continue.
I write with an update and an offer.
Project Phoenix is a complete success. The thirteen Uchiha children are thriving. They are healthy, happy, and display remarkable aptitude. They know themselves as Uzumaki, but they also know they have a special heritage they will learn about when they are older. They call your uncle "Uncle Fujian." He is a constant, steady presence in their lives.
My father, your uncle Fujian, is fully restored. He has adapted to this new time. He is strong, at peace, and reunited with my mother. They live in safety.
The Uchiha, Sasuke, are no longer a handful of scattered survivors. We are a growing clan again. Not in Konoha, but in Kumo. Our legacy is secure.
This leads to my offer.
The technique I used has limits, but the parameters are clear. I can resurrect those who died a violent, untimely death, provided a genetic sample exists and their soul has not moved on to a natural rest. Your parents, Fugaku and Mikoto Uzumaki-Uchiha, fit these parameters perfectly.
I have their genetic profiles from Konoha's records and from samples in the compound. I can create new bodies for them, free of the Sharingan's curse, enhanced with Uzumaki vitality. I can call their souls back.
The choice is yours, and yours alone. This is not a decision for the village, or for history. It is a decision for a son.
If you wish it, write "Yes" on this scroll and leave it at the base of the westernmost training post in this ground at midnight. The eagle will retrieve it. I will begin the process immediately. They would be restored on Turtle Island, in seclusion, to acclimate. You could meet them when the time is right.
There is no obligation. This is a gift, if you want it. Think on it.
— Indra
The world narrowed to the parchment in my hands. The sounds of the forest faded. My breath hitched.
Mother. Father.
Alive. Not as ghosts in my memory, not as portraits on a wall. Alive. Breathing, talking, smiling… here.
A surge of pure, unadulterated joy, so sharp it was painful, shot through me. It was immediately followed by a tidal wave of conflicting emotions.
They could come back. I could see them. I could talk to my father about the clan's duties. I could ask my mother about Uzushio. I could… have a family again.
But the joy was poisoned by the context. The letter in my hand was proof of the crime. They were dead because of Danzo, because of Obito, because Itachi was forced to be the weapon.
My mind flashed to the other faces from that night. Aunt Yumi, who taught me calligraphy. Uncle Tasuma, who always snuck me dango. Cousin Aiko. Baby Kenji. A dozen others. Indra had saved the children, but the adults… the other branch families… they were gone. Their souls had likely moved on, or Indra didn't have samples. They were lost forever.
And Itachi… my brother, walking in hell, bearing the mark of the clan's destroyer. Could I have my parents back while he still carried that cross? Would they even want to come back to a world where one son slaughtered the clan and the other…
My fists clenched, crumpling the edge of the parchment. The anger returned, hot and fresh. Not at Itachi. At Obito. At Danzo. At the sheer, wasteful, stupid evil of it all. They killed my family. They broke my brother. They stole my childhood. And for what? Power? Control? A twisted dream?
Indra was offering me a piece of my world back. But it was a piece. A beautiful, precious, miraculous piece, but still just a piece. The rest was still ash.
I sat there for hours, as the sun climbed to its zenith and then began its descent. I thought of Naruto, who had never known his parents. Would he understand if I said yes? Would it be fair?
I thought of the new Uchiha children in Kumo, growing up without the curse, without the hate. That was a future. My parents… that was a restoration of the past.
Did I want the past back? Or did I want to build a new future?
The answer, when it came, wasn't clean. It was messy, human, and selfish.
I wanted them. My mother's gentle hands. My father's stern pride. I wanted to ask them the thousand questions I'd saved up for over a decade. I wanted to show them the shinobi I'd become. I wanted them to see that the Uchiha name, despite everything, would endure.
And maybe… maybe with them back, the circle of loss wouldn't feel so complete. Maybe the gaping wound in my soul could finally start to close.
But I made myself a promise, looking at the setting sun. I would have this happiness. But I would not let it make me soft. It would fuel me. My parents' second life would be protected. The new Uchiha clan would be protected. Naruto, Sakura, Kakashi, this broken-but-healing village… they would be protected.
And the ones who caused this pain? Obito. The Akatsuki. Any remnant of Danzo's philosophy. I would become strong enough to erase them from the world. Not for revenge, but for justice. To make sure no one else ever had to receive a letter offering resurrection because their family was murdered in the dark.
I took out a brush and a small inkstone from my pouch. On the bottom of Indra's letter, in clear, bold strokes, I wrote one word.
YES.
I signed it: Sasuke Uchiha.
As midnight approached, I went to the westernmost training post. The forest was silent, cloaked in shadow. I placed the rolled-up scroll at the base of the post. I didn't wait. I turned and walked back towards the village.
I didn't look back, but I felt it—a powerful downdraft of air, the faintest sound of massive wings. When I glanced over my shoulder a minute later, the scroll was gone.
I stood at the edge of the training ground, looking up at the moon. For the first time since that night, the future didn't look like an endless, dark road of vengeance. It looked complicated, painful, and full of ghosts… but also, for the first time, it held a flicker of light. A chance at healing. A family, waiting to be whole again.
The anger was still there, a cold fire in my gut. But now it had direction. It had purpose.
I would become strong. Strong enough to protect the people coming back. Strong enough to end the ones who made this necessary.
The Uchiha would rise again. Not just in Kumo. In me.
Sasuke: (To the silent night) "Welcome back, Mother. Father. I'll be ready."
He turned and walked towards the village lights, his shadow long and determined behind him, a lone heir no longer, but a son with a promise to keep.
End of Chapter – 39.