On the lookout platform overlooking the Uchiha compound, the Masked Man and Itachi Uchiha stood side-by-side, gazing down at the quiet district below. Behind them, three Uchiha ninja lay still in widening pools of blood.
"Three Uchiha," the Masked Man observed, his voice flat, betraying no emotion. "Two with two tomoe, one with three. Is the clan's night watch usually this... generous?" It was as if he were merely remarking on the weather.
Neither attacker bore a single scratch, there wasn't even a hint they'd been in a fight. Whether two tomoe or three, it made no difference. Their power far eclipsed that of ordinary clan members. They simply weren't playing the same game.
"Let's go," Itachi said, his voice cold as steel. He slowly drew the katana strapped to his back. "Time is short. No sense wasting it. Let them die in their sleep."
"You're letting them off easy," the Masked Man murmured. As he looked down at the houses, a flicker of raw hatred sparked in the single eye visible through his mask. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, unseen by Itachi, who seemed lost in his own grim thoughts.
*Dong... dong... dong...*
The Uchiha Clan's distinctive alarm bell suddenly rang out behind them.
Both figures stiffened, whirling around. One of the clansmen, presumed dead in the blood pool, had somehow pushed himself up and sounded the alarm.
"Itachi!" The Masked Man rounded on him, anger flaring in his visible eye. He assumed Itachi had shown mercy.
But Itachi knew he hadn't held back. The injuries should have been fatal. Why the man hadn't died immediately was a mystery, but now wasn't the time to puzzle it out.
This wasn't the time for explanations.
Itachi leaped forward, appearing instantly before the clansman. The katana in his hand sliced across the man's throat. Blood sprayed.
The alarm bell, just beginning its frantic peal, fell abruptly silent. The night watch ninja was dead.
But those few short rings were enough, especially for shinobi.
A warning had been sounded.
The Uchiha Clan's elite would be mobilizing, moving at top speed. Any hope of a silent, surgical strike was gone.
"Looks like this will take some effort after all," the Masked Man said, his composure unshaken. "And I was planning on giving them a quicker end." For the two of them, the difference between assassination and a frontal assault was negligible.
Because beneath the gaze of the Mangekyo Sharingan, all others were merely ants.
--**--**
*Bang!*
The door to Fugaku's house burst inward, and an Uchiha clansman stumbled through the opening, covered in blood. He saw Fugaku, and a desperate hope lit his eyes. He used his last breath to gasp, "Clan Head... sama! It's bad... Enemies! The... Elder... took Elite Squad Three... support... You... quic-"
Before he could finish, his head lolled, and he collapsed, silent.
'Konoha?!' The thought struck Fugaku and the Minato simultaneously.
"Damn it," Fugaku cursed under his breath. "Sasuke isn't back yet!" He hadn't expected Konoha to move against them so soon. His own plans had accounted for at least a few more days.
"Minato-sama," Fugaku said urgently, turning to the Fourth Hokage. "Please, take Mikoto away first." He entrusted his wife's safety to the Minato while he prepared to find his sons, saving whoever else he could along the way.
"Fugaku..." Mikoto looked at her husband, her face etched with worry. He gave her a firm nod, a silent promise that he would bring the children back.
"Alright," Minato agreed without hesitation. Activating the Flying Thunder God, he vanished with Mikoto into the night. His voice echoed faintly, "Be careful. It will take time before I can use the technique again." The Flying Thunder God wasn't limitless, especially teleporting others over distance. And this Minato was only a Shadow Clone.
Watching them disappear, Fugaku murmured, "Let's see..." He slowly opened his eyes, the tomoe spinning wildly within the blood-red irises. "Just how much strength Konoha has gathered to deal with the Uchiha."
--**--**
"Itachi! It's you!" The first Uchiha elites to arrive stared, hatred instantly flaring in their eyes as they saw Itachi standing among the fallen.
"Did you kill Yuto and the others?!"
"Itachi, do you realize what you're doing?"
"You traitor! You've betrayed your own family! Betrayed the Uchiha!"
If looks could kill, Itachi would have been torn apart.
The elderly shinobi leading the group glared, the three tomoe in his Sharingan spinning furiously. "I will kill you myself and present your head to the Clan Head!" For the Uchiha, betrayal of the clan was the highest crime, punishable only by death.
"Only you?" Itachi asked softly. "Not enough." He leveled his katana at his former kinsmen.
His dismissive stance ignited their fury. In an instant, their own three-tomoe Sharingan blazed to life.
As the enraged clansmen charged, Itachi slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the familiar tomoe had merged into something far more terrifying.
Mangekyo Sharingan.
--**--**
Soon, the Uchiha compound was lit by bursts of flame. Giant dragons of fire roared into the night sky, the Fire Release techniques the clan prided itself on.
But they vanished as quickly as they appeared, snuffed out like illusions.
Moments later, the clansmen who had vowed to kill Itachi lay broken in pools of their own blood. Itachi calmly wiped his katana clean. Even without the Mangekyo, his skill surpassed ordinary Uchiha. And beside him stood the Masked Man, self proclaimed inheritor of Madara's legacy, wielding power more terrifying still.
The elites the Uchiha Clan held in such high regard were like helpless infants before Obito. A flick of his wrist, a phase through an attack, an overwhelming ninjutsu, none could survive a single exchange. His phasing ability made him untouchable, his attacks unstoppable.
Another squad of Uchiha arrived, finding only their fallen comrades and Itachi standing impassively, wiping his blade. Red filled their vision. They attacked with desperate fury.
Again, the familiar sight of the three-tomoe Sharingan.
Again, the cold power of the Mangekyo.
Battle cries echoed briefly through the compound.
And again, the fighting subsided quickly into silence.
The entire district fell into an eerie, deathly quiet.
The disparity was too vast. Beneath the Mangekyo Sharingan, all truly were ants.
--**--**
The Uchiha compound sat at Konoha's edge, separated from the bustling village center by nearly the entire Forest of Death.
Even with the fierce battle raging, the rest of Konoha remained undisturbed.
Perhaps a ninja or two noticed something amiss in the Uchiha district, but they paid it no mind. They wouldn't report it.
They were Uchiha, after all, arrogant, disliked.
What did it have to do with anyone else?
Lacking political foresight, they wouldn't grasp the concept of interdependence, when one pillar crumbles, the whole roof weakens, that the fall of one could leave others vulnerable, until it was far too late.
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