Naruto: I'm in Konoha, my name is Uzumaki Menma

Chapter 169 Showing Shisui the Night of the Clan's Extermination
The cold, disinfectant smell stubbornly seeped into my nostrils, and every breath carried a slight chill.

Uchiha Shisui lay on a hospital bed in the medical ward of the Star Capital military base, his eyes wrapped in thick gauze, blocking out all light.

In the darkness, only the rhythmic ticking of medical equipment echoed in the deathly silence.

He tried hard to recall the battle in front of the Buddhist hall: Danzo's cold face, the sudden burst of excruciating pain, the tearing sensation of his right eye being gouged out...

'That eye technique, there's no doubt about it, it's Izanagi...' As one of only two Mangekyou Sharingan users in the clan, Shisui learned a lot about the secret techniques of the Sharingan from Fugaku, such as 'Izanagi' which can rewrite reality.

He just couldn't understand why Danzo possessed the three-tomoe Sharingan capable of activating Izanagi... Could it be that Danzo...?

Just as he was trying to sort out his chaotic thoughts, an irresistible torrent of will suddenly crashed into his mind!
The darkness before my eyes shattered and crumbled like fragile glass.

The pungent smell of blood instantly replaced the smell of disinfectant in the ward, so strong it was nauseating.

He slowly opened his eyes. The scarlet moon hung in the dark sky, casting a nauseating, blood-soaked glow.

The light enveloped the familiar scene below—the Uchiha clan's territory.

However, this is no longer a peaceful home.

It's hell!

Blood, blood everywhere!

A viscous, dark red liquid, like disgusting paint, was splattered on the familiar courtyard wall, soaking the carefully maintained stone path, and reflecting an eerie light under the scarlet moonlight.

The intense, suffocating stench of blood and the putrid smell of ruptured entrails, like a tangible tide, crashed into my still senses, instantly triggering violent spasms in my stomach.

"No... what... what is this?!" Shisui's consciousness screamed.

He found himself "floating" above his tribe's land, like a desperate spectator nailed to a picture frame.

My gaze was uncontrollably pulled downwards.

A figure is moving on the central street of the tribe's territory.

Their movements were as fast as a ghost; each flash was accompanied by a cold glint of a blade and a scream that abruptly stopped.

It's a weasel!

That face was the face of Shisui's familiar best friend, but at this moment it seemed as if he were wearing the most perfect, cold and ruthless Noh mask.

The crimson Sharingan gleamed with an inhuman cold light under the moonlight, and the Mangekyou Sharingan slowly rotated.

The ninja sword in his hand was wielded with precision, efficiency, and ruthlessness that chilled the heart with every swing.

The sound of the blade slicing through flesh and cutting through bone was amplified infinitely in the dead of night, as clear as sawing right next to still water!

"Itachi! Stop!!" Shisui's consciousness screamed wildly in the illusion, his soul trembling.

He desperately tried to rush down, to stop it, to grab that figure and question it!

But an invisible force held him firmly in the air, like a desperate ghost, only able to watch helplessly!

massacre!

A massacre of all Uchiha clan members, indiscriminate and efficient!

There was no fierce confrontation, only a one-sided and ruthless harvest!

The elderly, women, and even infants in swaddling clothes...

The faint cry had just begun in one of the rooms when it fell silent instantly, like a chick whose neck had been snapped.

Dead silence.

Complete silence.

Only the monotonous and terrifying "swoosh" sound of Itachi's ninja sword cutting through air and flesh, like the drumbeats of hell, pounded on Shisui's nerves on the verge of collapse.

"Itachi! Why! Why did this happen..." Shisui roared, instinctively wanting to rush forward to stop him.

However, his body was like a ghost without a physical form, passing straight through the burning houses, the fallen trees, and even through the body of a clansman whose chest was being pierced by a ninja sword!
He could only watch helplessly as the once gentle Uchiha Itachi, now with empty eyes, wielded his ninja sword with precision and efficiency, slicing through the throats of familiar people, regardless of gender or age.

With each flash of the blade, a spray of warm blood splattered onto Itachi's numb face and into Shisui's despairing eyes.

A toddler, just learning to walk, was swept away by a merciless blade, his small body collapsing limply; an elderly woman tried to shield the child behind her with her body, but the next second, the cold tip of the blade pierced through both of them simultaneously…

"No—!" Shisui's eyes were bloodshot, and his soul roared in agony.

He lunged at the weasel again, spreading his arms to try and stop the swinging blade.

As before, he passed through Itachi's body in vain, like a gust of wind.

He could only stand beside Itachi, watching as those Mangekyou Sharingan, illuminated by the firelight, coldly reflected the deaths of his clansmen, without a ripple of emotion.

"Why did this happen...why?!" Shisui watched in disbelief as his beloved clansmen were slaughtered by Itachi, a chill running down his spine.

Not far from Itachi, a mysterious figure wearing an orange-red spiral-patterned single-eyed mask and a dark robe was also moving at high speed.

This person's methods were even more bizarre. He had an iron chain hanging from his arm, like a predatory tentacle, which he could easily grab fleeing members of his tribe, snap their necks, or pull them back and then pierce them with his ninja sword.

The single eye beneath the mask revealed a chilling, bone-chilling madness—a pure enjoyment of killing.

Through the sliver of moonlight, Shisui saw a scarlet Sharingan through the hole in the mask.

"Who are you?!" Shisui roared at the masked man, but his voice dissipated in the storm of killing.

The masked man seemed completely unaware of Itachi's presence, simply cooperating with Itachi's actions to efficiently eliminate life in every corner.

Despair, like a cold, venomous snake, coiled around Zhishui's heart, tightening its grip ever more.

Why? Besides Uchiha Hikaru, are there other Uchiha clan members who have wandered elsewhere?

Moreover, although the Uchiha clan's territory was located on the outskirts of the village, the village did not react at all to this scale of massacre.
What about the ninjas of the Anbu?

Finally, the figure walked toward the largest and most solemn mansion in the center of the clan's territory.

The clan head's residence, the home of the Fugaku clan head. The door slid open silently.

The head of the Fugaku clan sat upright on the tatami mat in the main hall, his back to the door, his posture ramrod straight, a testament to the pride he had upheld throughout his life.

His wife, Uchiha Mikoto, knelt quietly beside him, her face showing no fear, only a deep, almost tragic calm.

Itachi appeared in the doorway, the moonlight elongating his sword-wielding silhouette and casting it onto the room's floor.

Fugaku did not turn around. His deep, calm voice rang out, each word like a heavy hammer blow to Shisui's soul: "You've come, Itachi."

Mikoto's body trembled slightly, she closed her eyes, and two lines of clear tears silently slid down her cheeks.

"Father, Mother," Itachi's voice came, cold and steady, without a trace of emotion, as if he were stating something unrelated to himself.

Fugaku slowly, with a heavy sense of ritual, turned around.

His face was expressionless, except for his two three-tomoe Sharingan eyes, which burned silently in the dim light. "Is this... your choice, Itachi?"

There was no questioning in his voice, only a sense of certainty that everything had settled.

Itachi remained silent, raising his ninja sword slightly at an angle. The tip of the sword reflected the crimson moonlight from the window, cold and blinding.

Fugaku's gaze seemed to pass through the walls, beyond the Itachi, and see the land outside that was stained with the blood of his clansmen.

He nodded slowly and very slightly, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Let's do it, Itachi. The sins of the Uchiha clan... shall be ended by our own hands, father and son."

He closed his eyes, his straight spine resembling a mountain about to collapse.

Mikoto also opened her tearful eyes, her gaze filled with indescribable pain and the deepest understanding that belonged to a mother.

She opened her mouth: "Sasuke...please..."

The itachi moved.

fast!
It was so fast that only a blurry afterimage remained!

puff!

puff!

The sound of two sharp blades slicing into flesh was exceptionally clear and heavy in the deathly silent room.

Fugaku and Mikoto both shuddered at the same time.

Fugaku's straight back slowly hunched over, and blood gushed from the huge wounds on his chest and back, instantly staining the tatami mat beneath him red.

Mikoto's body slumped forward, resting on her husband's back.

From beginning to end, there was not a single scream, not a single curse.

Only the heavy breathing of life as it fades away eventually returns to eternal silence.

Itachi stood before his parents' corpses, his figure frozen for a moment in the moonlight.

Blood dripped slowly from the cold blade of the ninja sword in his hand, tapping against the floor in the silence.

"Father... Mother..." Itachi's voice was so low it was almost inaudible, with a barely perceptible tremor.

He slowly raised his left hand, as if wanting to touch something, but then stiffly stopped in mid-air.

"Itachi! Are you insane?!" Shisui's consciousness completely collapsed in the illusion, and he roared madly!

To witness firsthand how calmly and obediently the Fugaku clan head and his wife died under Itachi's blade!
And countless members of their clan were brutally slaughtered!
This destroyed his beliefs more thoroughly than any form of torture!

This was not just a massacre; it was a silent self-sacrifice at the core of the entire Uchiha clan!

For what?
For Sasuke?

For Konoha?

Just then, a powerful force abruptly pulled Shisui's consciousness away from the tragedy at the clan chief's mansion.

In an instant, it "floated" to the outermost high wall of the Uchiha clan's territory.

The cold night wind caressed his ethereal body.

Outside the wall, about fifty meters away from the clan's territory, in the shadows of a dense grove of trees, several figures stood indistinctly.

They all wore masks and uniforms from the Dark Side and the Root, clearly divided into two factions, standing silently in the darkness like statues.

No one tried to rush in and stop the genocide that was unfolding.

There were no gasps, no anger, only a cold...observation? Or perhaps, surveillance?

One of the ANBU members, wearing a white bird mask, was tilting his head slightly, seemingly using some kind of magic to listen intently to the increasingly sparse screams and sounds of clashing weapons coming from inside the wall. He then whispered something to another ANBU member next to him, who was wearing a fox mask and had a more solemn aura.

The fox mask's hidden face nodded slightly, its posture composed, as if it were merely evaluating a report on an exercise unrelated to itself.

Inside the walls were the dying cries of the clansmen and the cracking sounds of burning houses; outside the walls were the cold, merciless surveillance and waiting of the Leaf Village's Dark Guard and Root.

"Konoha's Anbu... and Danzo's Root..." Shisui suddenly realized something.

It wasn't shock, it wasn't anger, but a bone-chilling, abyss-like cold that instantly froze the last spark of life deep within his soul!
I see.

It turns out that this night of massacre was not just Itachi's madness, nor was it just the fate of the Uchiha clan.

It was a tacitly approved, observed, and meticulously planned cleansing!
From the village they protect!
"Ah ah ah ah ah--!!!"

Immense grief and anger, the despair of betrayal, the helplessness in the face of the tragic deaths of their people...

All the extreme negative emotions erupted like volcanic lava deep within his soul!
This uncontrollable and unbearable mental storm instantly found its only outlet.

His Sharingan eyes, which were covered in gauze, had just been transplanted and were still in a weak state!

(End of this chapter)