The sensation of weightlessness gripped him first, like falling through an endless void. Then came the sudden, crushing pressure—air filling his lungs in a desperate gasp, nerves awakening, muscles burning as they were pulled from the brink of nothingness into existence once more. The light of twilight faded, replaced by the dim glow of lanterns flickering against ancient stone walls.
Itachi's eyes snapped open, his vision instantly sharpening. He lay within a chamber, its architecture unfamiliar yet aged with time. He pushed himself up, feeling the rough texture of the stone beneath his fingertips. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from realization. He was alive.
A figure stood at the edge of the room, partially hidden within the shadows. The same man from before—the one who had brought him back. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light, watching Itachi with the patience of a god observing the rebirth of a mortal.
"You chose to walk forward," the man said. His voice carried the weight of inevitability.
Itachi inhaled slowly, grounding himself. He flexed his fingers, testing his body's responsiveness. There was no sign of decay, no weakness from death's embrace. It was as though he had never perished at all.
"I need answers," Itachi stated, his tone calm yet firm. "Where am I?"
The man stepped forward, his presence commanding. "You stand within the ruins of the Forgotten Temple, a place removed from the flow of time. It is a sanctuary for those who exist beyond death's call."
Itachi's mind processed the information swiftly. He glanced around, taking in the symbols carved into the stone walls—ancient seals, many unfamiliar even to him. The air hummed with residual chakra, old yet potent. He had read of such places, whispers of locations hidden from the world, where forbidden knowledge and lost souls resided.
"Why have I been brought back?" he asked.
The man extended a hand, and in an instant, the room around them shifted. Shadows swirled like living ink, forming images before Itachi's eyes. He saw the village, its peaceful streets marred by something unseen—an undercurrent of dread. Figures moved within the mist, their chakra unnatural, tainted. Then he saw Madara, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a chill through his veins.
"The balance has been disturbed," the man explained. "Forces that should remain buried are clawing their way back into existence. Your death was meant to be final, but fate has rewritten its script."
Itachi's fists clenched. He had ensured that Madara's influence would never rise again. Yet here it was—a specter of the past threatening the future he had sacrificed everything for.
"What do you expect me to do?"
The man tilted his head slightly. "You were always a guardian, Itachi. You saw beyond the present, understood the weight of sacrifice. The world does not yet know it, but it needs you once more."
A long silence stretched between them. Itachi's mind weighed the implications. He had long believed his role was complete, that his final act had secured the future. But if Madara's shadow loomed once more, then Sasuke, the village, and everything he had protected were at risk.
His gaze lifted, sharp and unwavering. "Then tell me everything."
The man gave a knowing nod. He stepped aside, revealing a passage leading into darkness. "Then walk with me, Uchiha. The world you left behind is not as you remember."
Without hesitation, Itachi followed, stepping into the unknown once more.