The delicate balance of Konoha had finally snapped. With the Third Hokage's passive benevolence and Danzo Shimura's predatory pragmatism pulling in opposite directions, Shisui Uchiha found himself caught in the center of a tightening noose.
The confrontation with Danzo had been swifter and more brutal than Shisui had anticipated. Having lost his right eye to the Root leader's treacherous ambush, Shisui now staggered through the dense undergrowth of the forest. Blood soaked through his sleeve, dripping rhythmically onto the dry autumn leaves. His vision was a fractured mess of gray and red, but his destination remained fixed in his mind.
On the high cliff overlooking the deep, churning waters of the Naka River ravine, a lone figure waited in the moonlight.
Uchiha Itachi.
Shisui stepped into the clearing, the wind tugging at his torn, blood-stained cloak. Itachi turned, his usually stoic expression shattering into one of sheer horror when he saw Shisui's mangled face.
"Shisui…!"
Shisui smiled weakly, leaning against a gnarled pine tree for support. "Sorry… out of ten, I'd say I'm a seven. I failed, Itachi."
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his chakra was a chaotic, flickering mess. The wound where his eye had been was a raw, weeping void.
Itachi moved with the speed of a strike, reaching Shisui's side in an instant. "Don't speak. Come with me. Evan Kamiyo—he's still at the hospital. I've seen what he can do. He can knit this back together. You'll live."
Shisui shook his head slowly, his remaining eye soft with a tragic finality.
"With Evan's ability… yes. I would survive," Shisui whispered, his hand tightening on Itachi's shoulder. "But then what? If I live, my remaining Mangekyō becomes a trophy that Danzo will never stop hunting. The clan would see my injury as a declaration of war. Even Evan… he would be dragged into a political slaughterhouse far beyond his years. I won't let a child carry that weight."
Shisui looked at Itachi, his gaze steady despite the agonizing pain radiating through his skull.
"This is the cleanest path left for us."
With a surge of agonizing resolve, Shisui reached up and tore out his remaining left eye. He pressed the bloody orb into Itachi's trembling, hesitant hand.
"After my death, the clan will lose its focus. The rebellion will lose its momentum in the confusion," Shisui gasped, his strength fading. "The only thing I ask… is you."
"Protect the village. Protect the name of the Uchiha family. Don't let our pride become our shroud."
Itachi's hands shook with such violence that the blood smeared across his palms. "There has to be another way, Shisui! We can fight them together!"
Shisui stepped back, his heels resting on the very edge of the precipice. The wind howled through the ravine below.
"This village needs someone who can see the whole picture—someone who loves the Leaf more than their own blood," he said gently. "That person is you, Itachi. You've always been the better man."
Without another word, Shisui leaned backward.
The wind swallowed his form.
"SHISUI—!"
Itachi rushed to the edge, his hand clawing at the empty air, but there was nothing left to grasp. Only the cold echo of falling air and the distant, muffled thud of water far below.
In that moment of absolute loss, something inside Itachi's mind fractured and reformed. Blood began to seep from his tear ducts. His fingers curled inward until his nails cut deep into his palms, mixing his blood with Shisui's.
The Three-Tomoe Sharingan in his eyes spun with a violent, sickening speed until it transformed into the cursed, beautiful pattern of the Mangekyō.
Shisui Uchiha was dead.
The news rippled through Konoha before the sun had even fully set the next day. Shock, confusion, and a cold, creeping denial gripped the village. Shisui Uchiha—the Body Flicker, the ANBU prodigy, the shining hope of the clan—had committed suicide.
The Uchiha clan erupted into a frenzy of grief and suspicion. Many refused to believe a man of Shisui's caliber would take his own life. Others launched secret investigations into the Root and the Hokage's office. But Shisui and Itachi had been conspicuously absent from the clan meeting on the day of the disappearance, and the shadow of suspicion began to fall quietly, dangerously, on Itachi alone.
Itachi offered no explanation. He met the glares of his kinsmen with a mask of ice, a wall of silence that only served to fuel their resentment. The rebellion's momentum slowed, stifled by the loss of their greatest strategist, but the hatred in the Uchiha district only deepened.
Evan Kamiyo heard the news while finishing a shift at the hospital. He stood by the window, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of bruised purple and orange.
"It's a pity," Evan said quietly to the empty room.
A man who could see the truth… forced to die so that others could continue to live in a comforting lie. Evan felt a cold chill. The world of shinobi never moved cleanly. There were always jagged edges, always consequences that bled into the future.
After Shisui's death, Itachi's visits to the hospital became more frequent, though they remained shrouded in secrecy. The Mangekyō was a double-edged sword; every time Itachi used those eyes, they strained his nervous system and eroded his vision. The cost of his power was becoming a physical debt.
One evening, after Evan had finished a deep-tissue chakra restoration on Itachi's weary frame, the Uchiha stood to leave the darkened clinic.
"Nii-san!"
A small, high-pitched voice echoed from the corridor. Sasuke came sprinting into the room, his eyes bright with hero worship. "You're back! I waited at the gate for three hours!"
Itachi crouched, his movements stiff. He placed two fingers gently against Sasuke's forehead, a familiar gesture that seemed to carry more weight than usual.
"I'm busy lately, Sasuke," he said softly, his voice cracking slightly. "But I'm still here."
Sasuke frowned, clutching Itachi's sleeve. "You promised to train me with the shuriken. You promised!"
"…Another time, Sasuke. I have reports to finish."
Sasuke looked crushed, his bottom lip trembling, but he nodded. He was used to his brother's distance, even if he didn't understand the source of it. Before Itachi turned to leave the hospital wing, he glanced back at Evan, who was cleaning his instruments.
"Evan Kamiyo," Itachi said to Sasuke, his voice flat but intentional. "Sasuke, if you ever find yourself alone... if you ever need a hand that isn't stained by the clan's pride... remember that name."
Sasuke blinked, looking between the quiet boy in the white coat and his legendary brother. "Who is he, Nii-san? Is he a ninja?"
"Someone strong," Itachi replied, his gaze meeting Evan's for a fleeting second. "And someone worth knowing."
Sasuke silently committed the name to memory. Evan Kamiyo.
That evening, Evan sat at a small table in a quiet corner of the village, sharing a simple dinner with Hinata. The air was cool, and the lanterns of the street vendors flickered in the evening breeze.
Hinata noticed him rubbing the bridge of his nose, a sign of fatigue he rarely showed.
"E-Evan… are you feeling unwell?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.
He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just a long day, Hinata. The hospital has been... heavy lately."
Hinata frowned, her brow furrowing. She reached out instinctively, her small hand covering his on the table. A faint, warm green glow pulsed from her palm.
[Ding!] [Minor Restoration Received: +0.5 Spirit]
"I'm okay, Hinata," Evan said gently, moved by her gesture. "Really. I should be the one healing you."
Hinata lowered her head, her cheeks dusting with pink. "I… I just don't want you to push yourself too hard. My father says a medic who doesn't care for himself is just another casualty."
Evan looked at her for a long moment. She was growing, her chakra becoming more refined under the Hyuga's brutal regime.
"Hinata," Evan said softly, "I know your father trains you harshly. I know the pressure of the Main House is like a weight on your chest. But remember: strength doesn't mean breaking yourself to fit someone else's mold."
She nodded slowly, a small spark of resolve lighting up her lavender eyes.
After escorting her back to the Hyuga compound and watching her disappear behind the massive gates, Evan walked alone through the lantern-lit streets. The village was quiet—too quiet.
Shisui's death had removed a critical pillar of peace, and the vacuum left behind was being filled with the cold ambition of Danzo and the desperate resolve of Itachi. The timeline was accelerating. The "Uchiha Massacre" was no longer a distant historical event; it was a shadow looming just around the corner.
Evan clenched his fist, feeling the hum of his own chakra—dense, vibrant, and ready.
The era of passive growth, of hiding in the hospital wards and playing the "little genius," was coming to an end. If he wanted to survive the coming storm and protect the few bonds he had formed, he needed more than just "efficiency." He needed a power that the village couldn't ignore.
Author's Note:
The atmosphere in Konoha is tightening. As Evan grows stronger through his Lightning training, the Uchiha tragedy is accelerating toward its climax. Thank you for your continued support! Every Power Stone helps us dive deeper into the lore.