Click.The soft sound of keyboard strokes echoed into the silence of the room. A young man, around thirty, slumped over his desk. His screen blinked with unfinished code — a half-written system design that would never go live. Empty coffee cups and cold takeaway boxes littered the desk.
The world would call it "death by overwork."No one would know he died dreaming of things no spreadsheet could ever track.
He had lived a simple life, really. Ordinary job. No girlfriend. No kids. No legacy.Except for one thing: anime.
His notebooks were filled with technique blueprints — original versions of Rasengan variations, Bankai systems, chakra-nature combinations, cursed techniques, breathing styles… He wasn't just a fan. He was an architect of possibility.
His final thought?
"If I could just have one more shot… I'd make it real."
Then — darkness.Then — light.Then — screaming.
It came all at once.
Blades clashing. Blood splattering. Walls crumbling. Screams — piercing and desperate.
A voice cried out.
His own?
No. A child's voice.
He turned his head sluggishly. Everything felt too raw. Too real. His limbs didn't move right. His breath came in ragged bursts. His fingers were… small.
Too small.
He looked up — and saw him.
Itachi Uchiha.Wearing the clan uniform. Sword dripping. Crimson eyes spinning with tomoe.
The man who once existed only in 2D now stood before him — more terrifying than any screen could ever convey.
"Forgive me, Sasuke."
That name. That cursed name.
"Tsukuyomi."
The world shattered.
He was no longer standing.He was being unmade.
Thousands of blades sliced through him. He watched his parents die again and again — every detail, every scream, every drop of blood — repeating. Over and over. The sky bled red. Time no longer had meaning.
He tried to scream — to make it stop — but nothing came out.
He wasn't some anime protagonist ready to endure agony with grit and resolve.
He was a normal man — a tired office worker who had never known real pain beyond paper cuts and eye strain.
This was something else entirely.
Pain without end.Despair without bottom.Guilt. Helplessness. Grief.
He wanted to claw his eyes out. He screamed until his throat broke. Then again. And again.
And then—something inside cracked.
Not a memory. Not a dream.
A collision. Of two minds.
Flashes of desks and keyboards, of ramen eaten alone, anime marathons, sketchbooks — collided with memories of chasing Itachi, holding Fugaku's cold hand, and being called "the clan's pride."
Two souls.One body.Twisting, burning, fighting for space.
His head throbbed. His brain felt like it was tearing apart.
When the illusion finally broke, he was lying on the blood-soaked floor of the Uchiha household. The silence was deafening. Only the soft creak of a door swinging in the wind reminded him the world still turned.
He dragged himself toward a shattered mirror.
Bloodshot eyes.Pale, childlike face.His face.
But his eyes—
Three tomoe spun in each.
And behind them, something deeper stirred:
The Mangekyō Sharingan.
But the moment it flickered to life, his chakra surged — and then collapsed. His body convulsed. His lungs screamed for air. His vision went black.
Too much.Too soon.
And finally… he passed out.
He awoke in a hospital bed.
Cold sheets. Dim lighting. Beeping monitors.Everything felt muted. Wrong.
The worst part wasn't the physical exhaustion.It was the noise inside his head.
Two voices.Two lives.Two minds.
Memories of his past life played on loop — Tokyo rain, deadlines, loneliness, regrets.
Overlaid with Sasuke's emotions — family warmth, clan pride, his mother's gentle smile, his father's rare approval.
His brain hurt. Every blink brought an unwanted flash of memory.
He wanted to scream.He almost did.
And then — the door opened.
A tall man in white robes entered.
The Third Hokage.Two ANBU behind him. Silent. Watching.
"Sasuke-kun," Hiruzen said gently. "You're awake."
He stared blankly.
Then he remembered: play dumb.
Tears welled in his eyes. His voice shook — not entirely faked.
"N-Nii-san… he… he killed them… he killed everyone…"
Hiruzen sat beside him, his expression pained. "You're safe now. You don't have to talk about it."
Safe?
He felt broken.
But he nodded like a scared child.
Later that evening, Hiruzen spoke to the ANBU in a private meeting room inside the hospital.
"His chakra patterns are irregular," one masked figure noted. "There's clear emotional trauma… but also something else. Something deep. Unnatural, even."
"I felt it too," said the other. "For a moment when he first woke up, his chakra surged—then immediately suppressed itself. Reflexively. Like a trained sensor hiding its presence."
Hiruzen tapped his pipe gently against the windowsill. "He's seven. A prodigy, yes, but not that kind of prodigy."
The old man stared out at the village lights below.
"…Keep him monitored. But do not interfere. Let the boy heal."
"is it the awakening of sharingan?" asked the ANBU.
Hiruzen closed his eyes. "Lets wait for the hospital report."
________
They ran tests. Medical scans. Chakra analysis. Psychological evaluations. Then came the question he feared:
"Can you activate your Sharingan?"
He hesitated. Then channeled the faintest amount of chakra to his eyes.
One tomoe appeared.
The medic smiled. "Trauma-induced awakening. Early, but stable. With training, it'll develop."
They had no idea.
Behind that fragile facade lay a complete three-tomoe Sharingan,And beyond that — like a caged beast — waited the partially sealed Mangekyō.
Days passed.
He pretended to grieve.He did grieve — for Sasuke, and for himself.For the reality that neither soul was whole anymore.
In the quiet of the hospital nights, he practiced in secret.Spinning the tomoe behind closed eyes. Testing chakra flow. Measuring his limits.
They weren't high.
He was only seven. His chakra coils were underdeveloped. His muscles still soft.
But his mind?
It now held two lives' worth of memories — one from a traumatized child, and the other from a grown man who had seen both sorrow and ambition. They clashed. They merged. Slowly. Painfully.
And once that fusion was complete…The spiritual power it would create — layered over a young, plastic mind — would be immense.
It would stimulate faster growth. Stronger will. Sharper perception.If he survived the process.
"I'll have to lay low for now. Let the village think I'm just a traumatized genius — expected of the Uchiha bloodline, but not suspicious."
"First, recover. Then train the body. I need to strengthen it enough to handle Mangekyō usage without collapse."
"And as for the Mangekyō's ability… I don't even know what it is yet.""But that can wait — I'll unlock it when the time comes."
And with that final thought, he exhaled slowly…
And sank once more into the soft silence of sleep.
__________
Later that night, a report arrived at the Hokage's office.
Physical State: StableMental State: HealingSharingan: One tomoe awakenedOverall: A week of rest is all that's required for full recovery
Hiruzen Sarutobi puffed a quiet stream of smoke from his pipe as he finished reading the report, his expression unreadable under the soft glow of the lamp.
"So… it was just the initial awakening of the Sharingan," he muttered. "That explains the chakra fluctuation I sensed earlier. Nothing too unusual."
A moment of silence passed as he tapped ash into a tray.
"I suppose there's no need for direct surveillance… for now."
He raised his voice slightly. "ANBU."
A masked shinobi appeared from the shadows, kneeling swiftly.
"Yes, Lord Third."
"There's no need for 24/7 surveillance anymore. The boy is stable and shows no signs of anything… abnormal," Hiruzen said, his tone calm but deliberate. "However, once he returns to the Uchiha compound, I want intermittent observation from a distance. Low-profile. Purely for his security."
"Understood."
Hiruzen added after a pause, "If there's no unusual activity within a few weeks… pull them back entirely. He deserves some privacy, and the last thing I want is to provoke paranoia in the boy after everything he's endured."
The ANBU nodded. "As you command."
With a soft rustle, he vanished.
Unbeknownst to them, the very surveillance they hoped would protect Sasuke could have been the key to discovering something far more dangerous.
Because the boy they thought was grieving… was already planning. Training. Hiding.
And once his body recovered, he had no intention of staying weak for long.
If the ANBU ever saw the truth — if they witnessed what he was really capable of behind those compound walls — then Hiruzen's careful neutrality might start to shift.
And Sasuke couldn't allow that.