Time doesn't stop. And just like that, a new day arrived.
On the surface, Konoha remained as peaceful as ever—a village bathed in warm sun and gentle wind. But beneath the silence… a storm had already begun brewing.
Tonight, the Uchiha clan would face its blood-soaked twilight.
The golden hues of dusk blanketed the sky. On the rooftop of the Hokage building, two figures stood in stark contrast against the setting sun.
One stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back, the fading light reflecting off his aged face, casting shadows beneath tired, knowing eyes.
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Behind him, kneeling with silent grace, was Uchiha Itachi. His head bowed. Eyes half-lidded. Tension swirled in the air around them—heavy, still, as if the wind itself dared not speak.
For a long time, neither moved. Then, slowly, Hiruzen turned and broke the silence, his voice low and solemn.
"Itachi... So, it's tonight, isn't it?"
No hesitation. Not even a heartbeat of pause. But for the first time in a long while, Itachi's eyes flickered with pain.
"Yes."
Just that single word held the weight of a thousand regrets.
Sarutobi took a slow drag from his pipe. Smoke coiled around his face like ghosts clinging to memory.
Then he sighed—a long, tired breath that came from somewhere deep in his bones.
Before he could speak again, Itachi's voice cut through the air.
"Hokage-sama... our agreement."
The old man nodded slightly. There was something unspoken behind his eyes—sorrow, perhaps. Or maybe guilt that had long outstayed its welcome.
"You have my word. Your brother... Sasuke... will live."
Itachi closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them—calm, unreadable.
"That's all I needed to hear."
He stood, his movements precise. Deliberate. He looked at Sarutobi for what might be the last time.
Then he was gone—vanishing into the twilight like a phantom.
The Third Hokage exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips like the last warmth of a dying fire.
Tonight, the blood of Konoha's strongest clan would stain the earth.
On the quiet slope of a mountain behind the village, the wind whispered through the trees.
A man stood at the edge of the forest, masked and still, staring down at the Uchiha district. His presence was eerie—like a shadow given flesh.
Obito.
Moments passed. Then he spoke, low and curt.
"Itachi. Ready?"
From the trees behind him, footsteps crunched softly against the underbrush. Uchiha Itachi emerged into view, his expression unreadable as ever.
The masked man's lone, exposed Sharingan glimmered faintly.
"You're late," he muttered.
But Itachi wasn't looking at him.
"Zeldris isn't here yet?"
Obito's tone turned neutral. "He knows the time. He'll be here."
As if summoned by the mere mention of his name, both men turned simultaneously—instincts firing. A figure stood behind them, unnoticed until now.
Draped in a black robe, silver hair billowing in the evening breeze, arms folded across his chest like he had all the time in the world.
He's Just standing There... Menacingly!
Itachi blinked, taking in the new arrival. So this was Zeldris—the man with a 100 million ryō bounty on his head. The living enigma. The former Anbu Captain.
Not exactly what he expected.
Zeldris wore a lazy grin, as if tonight was just another mildly annoying chore.
"Took your sweet time," Obito said.
"Traffic," Zeldris replied dryly, before his gaze drifted to Itachi.
He looked him up and down like a merchant inspecting merchandise. Then he nodded thoughtfully.
"So this is the prodigy. The Uchiha golden boy."
His tone turned bemused. "You're bigger than I thought."
Itachi's brow twitched slightly, but his voice stayed flat.
"You seem... well-informed, Zeldris."
"'Well-informed'?" Zeldris repeated with a soft chuckle.
"That's a polite way of saying 'nosy.' I'll take it."
Then his expression shifted, eyes narrowing with subtle intensity.
"But really... how far the Will of Fire has fallen—to have its brightest torch commit fratricide in the name of peace."
There was no judgment in his voice. Just a quiet, unnerving honesty.
"You let that old fossil Sarutobi convince you to butcher your own clan, huh? Itachi? Must've been a hell of a sales pitch."
Itachi's eyes flashed for the briefest second, but he kept his cool.
"You're quite talkative for someone with a bounty."
Zeldris smirked. "And you're quite calm for someone about to stain his soul forever. Guess we're both freaks in our own right."
Before tension could escalate further, Obito stepped in.
"Enough," he said sharply. "We don't have time for philosophy or theatrics."
He turned to Zeldris.
"You'll lead the charge from the east. Clean sweep. You know the district better than anyone."
Zeldris gave a casual salute. "Understood, boss man."
Obito turned his gaze toward the sky. The last sliver of sunlight had just disappeared behind the horizon.
"Itachi and I will move from the south. When it's done... we regroup here."
Zeldris gave Itachi one last glance—a curious look, not hostile but… interested. As if trying to read a puzzle no one else could solve.
"Try not to die," he said with a smirk. "It'd ruin the whole mysterious genius image."
Without a word, Itachi turned and vanished into the darkness.
Obito followed a moment later, his form disappearing into a swirling vortex of space-time.
Zeldris remained for a moment, standing alone on the cliff's edge. He looked down at the village below—so familiar, so distant.
Once, he called it home.
Now, it was just a battlefield.
His voice was quiet, but the words echoed like thunder in his own mind.
"Let the crows feast tonight…"
The Uchiha Clan Genocide had begun.
--------------------------------------
Support me at patreon.com/Arthorain and read upto 50 Advanced Chapters!