Uchiha Itachi stood motionless, his gaze distant, his expression unreadable. The weight of his sins bore down on him like an unshakable mountain, suffocating and inescapable. His voice, heavy with regret, trembled as he spoke.
"Brother Shisui... I can't go back anymore..." His words hung in the air like a ghostly whisper. "I have too many sins on my shoulders. Every time I close my eyes, I see them—my clansmen, their lifeless faces staring back at me. Their souls haunt me endlessly..." His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out a sealing scroll from his cloak. His movements were deliberate, as though every action carried the weight of finality.
"Brother Shisui... inside this scroll is one of your Sharingan, along with the Sharingan of my father and mother. Please... pass them on to Sasuke for me."
There was no hesitation. No second thoughts. Uchiha Itachi's hands moved with unwavering determination as he reached up to his own face. With a swift, brutal motion, his fingers dug into his eye sockets.
Puff!
A sickening squelch echoed through the night. Blood dripped down his pale face as his fingers clenched around the freshly plucked Mangekyō Sharingan, his own vision now reduced to darkness.
"Itachi!!!"
Uchiha Shisui's breath hitched in his throat. His eyes, filled with panic and sorrow, reflected the horrifying scene before him.
"Itachi! Stop!"
But his plea fell on deaf ears.
Itachi, blind yet resolute, took out a kunai. Without a moment's pause, he drove the blade into his chest.
Puff!
The kunai sank deep, piercing flesh and muscle. A crimson mist erupted from his wound. He staggered forward but did not fall immediately. Instead, he exhaled, his lips curling into a faint, almost peaceful smile.
And then—his body collapsed into Shisui's waiting arms.
The corpse twitched slightly before finally falling still, the only movement the slow, steady flow of blood pooling beneath him. Even in death, Itachi's grip on his own Mangekyō remained firm, as though unwilling to let go of the last remnants of his will.
Shisui could only stare, his mind clouded with sorrow. Though he knew that Souta Kazuki possessed the ability to revive him, the pain of watching his brother die in his arms still burned deep in his heart.
Not far away, Uchiha Sasuke stood frozen. His entire body shook as he stared at his brother's lifeless corpse.
He had vowed revenge. He had sworn to kill the man who had destroyed his clan. And yet...
And yet...
The man he hated—the man he had dedicated his life to killing—had been protecting him all along.
The realization crushed him.
"Brother..." Sasuke's voice wavered. His feet felt like they were sinking into the ground as he tried to step forward.
Plop.
He fell.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up.
Plop.
Again, he fell.
His body refused to move as if shackled by an invisible force. Itachi's body lay only a few steps away, but the distance felt immeasurable.
"Brother... Brother!!!"
Sasuke's scream echoed across the silent night. His fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.
A hand rested gently on his head.
"Sasuke..." Shisui's voice was calm yet heavy with grief. "These are Itachi's eyes. As a member of the Uchiha clan, you know what this means."
Sasuke's head snapped up, his tear-filled eyes locking onto the bloodied Mangekyō Sharingan in Shisui's hand.
His gaze then drifted toward Souta Kazuki, who stood in the distance, watching everything unfold.
"You…" Sasuke's voice was barely human. His teeth clenched so tightly that blood dripped from his lips. "You can bring him back, right?"
Souta stood still, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "If you want to see your brother again, I can make that happen."
Sasuke exhaled shakily. Then, something unexpected happened.
He laughed.
"Heh… Heheheh… Hahahahahahaha!!!"
A broken, bitter laugh filled the night air. His whole body trembled, his shoulders shaking with suppressed emotions.
"You, Uchiha Itachi, you thought you could just die and leave me behind? You wanted me to live with this pain alone?!" His voice cracked with fury and madness. "You're so cruel! But I won't let you escape this so easily! You'll live! You'll atone for everything with your own hands!"
Sasuke's bloodshot eyes snapped back to Souta.
"Do it. Revive him."
Souta exhaled softly.
"Alright," he said. "But there's one problem... Since Danzo is already dead, there's a chance that the one who comes back might not be Itachi—it might be Danzo instead."
Sasuke's face twisted into an expression of pure, unrestrained hatred.
"If that old bastard comes back, I'll kill him again myself!!!"
Souta Kazuki observed the tension in the air, his keen eyes locked onto Uchiha Sasuke, whose expression twisted with barely restrained fury. The mere mention of Danzo had ignited a fire within Sasuke, a seething hatred that refused to be doused. Souta understood that Sasuke's vengeance ran deeper than words—this was a wound that had festered for years, carved into his very soul by the tragedies of his clan.
Across from him, Souta exhaled softly, already predicting the inevitable chaos that was about to unfold. He knew Sasuke's wrath wasn't just posturing; it was a force of nature, relentless and unwavering. Yet, at the same time, he had his own concerns. The psychic summoning was a gamble, and he couldn't guarantee which soul would be brought forth this time—Itachi or Danzo.
Sasuke's hands tightened into fists, nails digging into his palms as he envisioned the countless atrocities Danzo had committed—the genocide of his clan, the theft of Shisui's eye, and the endless machinations that had plagued the Uchiha name. The flames of revenge burned brighter within him, threatening to consume reason itself.
Souta couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. He had no love for Danzo himself, but he also understood the implications of his revival. If Danzo was brought back, it wouldn't be a simple affair. The former leader of Root was a man who operated in the shadows, a manipulator who thrived on contingency plans. He would not go down easily, and more than likely, he would stir up even greater turmoil before Sasuke could finally lay him to rest.
Still, from a purely financial perspective, it was a beneficial outcome. Sasuke was hellbent on revenge, and revenge required money—50 million ryo, to be precise. And knowing Sasuke's hatred, Danzo's death toll would only continue to rise in the future, filling his pockets with every cycle of resurrection and execution.
But he wasn't relying on just that.
Before initiating the summoning, he had been careful—ensuring a steady stream of funds from Danzo's own Root organization. The secretive faction had amassed a wealth of resources over the years, siphoning funds from Konoha's treasury for their clandestine operations. Now, those resources belonged to him.
Additionally, two former elders, Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, had unknowingly contributed to his coffers as well. Their blind allegiance to Danzo had cost them dearly, and Hirofumi had intercepted a significant portion of their assets under the pretense of "village stability."
Of course, he couldn't afford to pour all of these funds into his system. As much as he enjoyed making a profit, Konoha still needed functioning infrastructure. The village's economy had to be maintained, shinobi had to be paid, and missions had to proceed without disruption. Even so, he had managed to set aside a hefty sum—one billion ryo, safely transferred into his system for future use.
Satisfied, Souta turned his attention inward.
"System! Open the data panel for me!"