Ryu moved through the forest with the precision and silence of a predator, his body gliding effortlessly between trees as the last rays of sunlight cast a reddish glow over the land. His mission had gone off without a hitch, a simple C-rank job escorting a merchant caravan to the border of the Land of Fire. Easy work for a Jonin of his caliber. Normally, he'd be relaxed, even content after a successful mission, but something felt wrong.

For the past few days, an unnatural feeling had been clawing at the edge of his mind. It was subtle at first, just a fleeting sense of unease. But as he neared Konoha, that feeling had evolved into something darker, a creeping dread that gnawed at him with every step.

Something is off.

The closer he got to the village, the stronger the sensation became. The forest, usually so familiar and calming, felt like it was closing in on him. The birds had stopped singing. The wind no longer whispered through the leaves. Only the sound of his own heart, beating faster with each passing second, filled his ears.

When Konoha’s gates finally came into view, the sense of dread spiked to a near unbearable degree. Ryu’s Sharingan flickered to life instinctively, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. But there was nothing. No enemies, no traps—just silence.

Too much silence.

As he crossed the threshold into the village, the streets seemed... wrong. Where there should have been people finishing their daily routines, laughter of children playing, and the usual banter of shinobi going about their evening duties, there was nothing but stillness. The villagers moved in hushed whispers, their expressions marked with something close to fear, but Ryu couldn’t stop to ask what had happened. His legs moved of their own accord, carrying him faster and faster toward the Uchiha compound.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

The moment he rounded the corner leading to the compound, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. His blood froze as his eyes locked onto the scene before him. The Uchiha district, usually bustling with life, was deathly quiet. No lights illuminated the houses. No voices called out to greet him.

The streets were littered with bodies.

Ryu stopped dead in his tracks, the breath leaving his lungs as if someone had punched him in the gut. The red of the sunset bathed the corpses in a macabre glow, making the pools of blood shimmer like something out of a nightmare. His Sharingan spun wildly, taking in the horrific sight.

Dead.

All of them.

Fathers, mothers, children—his clan. His family.

The Uchiha crest, the symbol of their pride and strength, was splattered in blood, defiled by the massacre that had taken place. Ryu took a shaky step forward, his mind struggling to process the scene. Each step brought him closer to the cold, unfeeling truth—his clan had been wiped out. Annihilated.

His parents... his cousins... everyone he had grown up with, trained with—gone.

“No… no, this can’t be happening.”

He barely recognized his own voice as it cracked, the weight of the realization pressing down on him like a physical force. His legs moved on their own, carrying him deeper into the compound. His heart raced, hoping—praying—that someone, anyone, had survived. His eyes darted from one face to another, but each one told the same story. Lifeless. Cold.

When he reached his family’s home, the door was ajar, swaying slightly in the wind. His chest tightened as he stepped inside, his worst fears confirmed when he saw his parents lying motionless on the floor.

Their eyes—those once bright, kind eyes—were all missing, frozen in the last moments of terror.

Ryu stumbled toward them, his knees giving out as he collapsed beside their bodies. His hand reached out, trembling as he touched his mother’s cheek. Cold. Too cold.

“Who did this...?”

His question was barely a whisper, a desperate plea to the gods, but no answer came. His mind was blank, a swirling void of grief and anger. How? How could this happen? His father was a formidable shinobi, his mother just as skilled. They wouldn’t go down without a fight, yet there they lay, defenseless.

As his grief began to suffocate him, Ryu felt a familiar presence approach. His head snapped up, his Sharingan flaring to life as Kakashi appeared in the doorway, his singular eye filled with an emotion Ryu hadn’t seen before—pity.

“Ryu…” Kakashi’s voice was quiet, as though speaking any louder would shatter what was left of Ryu’s fragile state. “I’m sorry.”

Ryu stood, his body trembling with barely contained rage. “What happened?” His voice was raw, demanding answers. “Who did this?”

Kakashi hesitated, his gaze shifting to the bodies strewn about the compound. He sighed, a long, heavy breath that only made the knot in Ryu’s chest tighten further.

“Itachi.”

The name hit Ryu like a bolt of lightning. His world tilted again, the air sucked from his lungs as his mind struggled to comprehend the enormity of what Kakashi had just said.

"Itachi?"

Impossible. Itachi was a prodigy, yes. He was stronger than anyone in the Uchiha clan, even their father had acknowledged that. But to do something like this? To slaughter his own family, his own clan? The idea was so absurd, so out of the realm of possibility, that Ryu’s body rejected it entirely.

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“No. You’re wrong.” Ryu’s voice trembled with disbelief. “He wouldn’t—he couldn’t have—”

“He did,” Kakashi interrupted, his tone soft but firm. “Itachi killed them all.”

Ryu stumbled back, his mind reeling. His vision blurred as the weight of Kakashi’s words crashed over him like a tidal wave. Itachi? His older cousin? The one who had been a shining example to the clan, who had protected them, trained with them, fought for them? How could he have done this?

Why?

A sharp pain stabbed through Ryu’s temples, and he instinctively gripped his head as a surge of chakra flooded his system. His Sharingan pulsed, the familiar tomoe swirling erratically as his grief, anger, and confusion swirled into a singular force within him.

“Why?” Ryu’s voice cracked, filled with rage. “Why would he do this?”

Kakashi took a cautious step forward, but Ryu barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by the massacre, by the faces of his dead clan members, by the sight of his parents lying cold on the floor.

Something inside him snapped.

The pain in his head intensified, a searing heat coursing through his eyes. Ryu gasped, his vision darkening for a moment before the world exploded in vibrant clarity. His Sharingan shifted, the familiar tomoe pattern morphing into something new—something more powerful.

The "Mangekyō Sharingan".

Kakashi’s visible eye widened in shock, but Ryu could barely register it. The power of his new eyes surged through him, bringing with it a cold, calculated fury. This wasn’t just grief anymore—this was hatred. It was vengeance.

“Ryu, you need to calm down.” Kakashi’s voice was measured, but there was a trace of worry beneath it. “This isn’t the way.”

Ryu’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. “Calm down? My entire clan is dead, Kakashi! My parents are dead! Itachi did this!”

Kakashi nodded, his expression somber. “I know. But going after him in this state—”

“I don’t care!” Ryu’s voice was raw, filled with a desperate need for justice. “I’m going to find him. I’m going to make him pay.”

For a long moment, Kakashi was silent. He studied Ryu carefully, weighing his next words. Finally, he stepped forward, placing a hand on Ryu’s shoulder.

“We will find him, Ryu,” Kakashi said softly. “But not like this. Not now. You need to rest. There’s nothing left for you here.”

Ryu’s body trembled, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at the bodies of his family one last time. Kakashi was right. There was nothing left for him here.

But he would never forget this night. He would never forget the faces of his dead clan.

And he would never forgive "Itachi".

With a final, lingering glance at his home, Ryu turned and followed Kakashi out of the compound. But as they walked, a fire burned within him, fueled by the power of his Mangekyō Sharingan.

He would find Itachi.

And when he did, he would make him suffer.

Ryu’s body moved on autopilot as he followed Kakashi out of the Uchiha compound. His mind was a storm of rage and sorrow, the weight of the massacre still pressing down on his chest. His new Mangekyō Sharingan pulsed with energy, amplifying his emotions and sharpening his perception of the world around him.

But despite the overwhelming grief, a question gnawed at him: "Why?"

Why would Itachi do this? The thought haunted him, replaying over and over in his mind. He was desperate for answers, but the more he thought about it, the more the pieces didn’t fit. There had to be more to this than what Kakashi had told him. Itachi wasn’t the type to act without reason—he had always been methodical, calculating.

As they approached the Hokage Tower, Kakashi’s voice broke through his thoughts. “There’s something else you need to know, Ryu.”

Ryu glanced over at him, the muscles in his jaw tight. “What?”

Kakashi hesitated, his single eye searching Ryu’s face. “Sasuke is still alive.”

The name hit Ryu like a physical blow. He stopped in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat. "Sasuke"—Itachi’s younger brother. The one who idolized him. The one who had been spared, for reasons Ryu couldn’t begin to understand.

“Sasuke?” Ryu repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “Where is he?”

“He’s at the hospital,” Kakashi replied. “He was found unconscious at the scene, but... he’s alive. He doesn’t remember much, but he saw enough.”

Ryu’s hands clenched into fists, a surge of emotions flooding his system. Sasuke was alive. The only other survivor. The only other person who might have some insight into what had happened.

Without another word, Ryu changed direction, heading straight for the hospital. Kakashi followed closely behind, his presence steady but unobtrusive. The streets of Konoha were still eerily quiet, as if the village itself was mourning the loss of the Uchiha.

When they arrived at the hospital, Ryu wasted no time. He stormed inside, the nurses and doctors giving him wary glances as he made his way toward Sasuke’s room. The door was ajar, and as he stepped inside, he found Sasuke sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes wide and unfocused, staring at nothing.

“Sasuke,” Ryu called softly, stepping closer.

The boy blinked, turning his gaze toward Ryu. His face was pale, his eyes hollow. “Ryu?”

Ryu knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Sasuke, I need you to tell me what happened.”

Sasuke’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, Ryu thought the boy might break down. But instead, he swallowed hard and spoke in a quiet, broken voice.

“Itachi... He killed them all. I— I saw him. I— I don’t understand. Why...?”

Ryu’s heart ached at the pain in Sasuke’s voice, but he forced himself to remain composed. “Did he say anything? Anything that might explain why he did it?”

Sasuke shook his head, his expression filled with confusion and hurt. “He... he told me I wasn’t worth killing. That if I wanted revenge, I had to get stronger.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “But before he left, he said something strange.”

Ryu’s grip on Sasuke’s shoulder tightened slightly. “What did he say?”

“He said... I wasn’t the one he was doing this for.”

Ryu’s blood ran cold at those words. "Not the one he was doing this for?" What did that mean? Was Itachi working for someone? Or was there a deeper motivation at play?

The pieces were starting to come together, but Ryu still didn’t have the full picture. He needed answers, and there was only one place he could get them.

Without another word, Ryu stood, his expression darkening as he turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Sasuke asked, his voice trembling.

“I need to speak with the Hokage,” Ryu replied, his voice hard. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

---

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time Ryu stormed into the Hokage Tower. His Sharingan was still activated, scanning everything with heightened awareness. The few guards that remained in the building wisely stayed out of his way, sensing the intensity of his mood. He had questions, and Hiruzen Sarutobi—the Third Hokage—was going to give him answers.

When Ryu reached the Hokage’s office, he barely paused before pushing the door open. Hiruzen was sitting at his desk, his tired eyes lifting to meet Ryu’s stormy gaze. The old man’s face, etched with lines of age and responsibility, softened slightly when he saw Ryu.

“I expected you sooner,” Hiruzen said quietly, folding his hands in front of him. “Please, come in.”

Ryu didn’t respond immediately. He stepped into the room, his posture rigid, every fiber of his being screaming for action. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood before the Hokage’s desk, glaring down at the man who was supposed to protect the village—and its people.

“You knew,” Ryu said, his voice low but filled with accusation.

Hiruzen’s expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps. “I knew of the tensions within the Uchiha clan, yes.”

Ryu’s fists clenched at his sides. “And you did nothing.”

Hiruzen sighed, his gaze dropping to the desk. “It was not that simple, Ryu. There were forces at play that you cannot begin to understand. The Uchiha clan was planning a coup against the village. Itachi made a terrible choice, but it was done to prevent a civil war.”

Ryu’s Sharingan flared with anger, his voice rising. “So you ordered the massacre?”

“No,” Hiruzen replied sharply, his tone finally showing a hint of frustration. “I did not. Itachi made the decision on his own, though it was sanctioned by certain elements within the village leadership.”

“Danzo,” Ryu hissed, his teeth grinding together.

Hiruzen didn’t deny it. His silence spoke volumes.

Ryu’s heart pounded in his chest. Everything was falling into place now. It wasn’t just Itachi—it was the higher-ups in Konoha. They had orchestrated this, or at the very least, allowed it to happen. His clan had been betrayed from within.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Ryu demanded. “You’re the Hokage—you could have stopped this!”

Hiruzen closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of the world had finally settled on his shoulders. “I failed,” he admitted, his voice weary. “I failed your clan, Ryu. I failed to find a solution that could have saved them. But I did not condone this. I fought against it. But in the end, Itachi... Itachi believed this was the only way to protect the village.”

Ryu’s vision blurred with rage. The words Hiruzen was saying felt like hollow excuses. His clan—his family—was gone, and nothing the Hokage said could change that. The room felt stifling, the air thick with unspoken tension. Ryu could feel his chakra rising, the power of his Mangekyō Sharingan swirling inside him, begging for release.

“I won’t forgive this,” Ryu said, his voice cold and deadly. “You might not have ordered it, but you let it happen. You let **Danzo** pull the strings. And for that, the blood of my clan is on your hands.”

Hiruzen opened his eyes, his gaze steady but filled with sorrow. “I understand your anger, Ryu. I will not ask for your forgiveness, but know this: I will do everything in my power to ensure that something like this never happens again.”

Ryu’s jaw tightened, his body trembling with barely contained rage. But he knew that attacking the Hokage now wouldn’t accomplish anything. He needed to keep his emotions in check, as much as it pained him to do so.

“You better hope you can keep that promise,” Ryu growled, turning on his heel and storming out of the office.

As he left the Hokage Tower, Ryu’s thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. The betrayal cut deep, and the thirst for vengeance burned hotter than ever. But this was no longer just about Itachi. This was about the people who had orchestrated the massacre—the ones who had betrayed his clan from the shadows.

He would find Danzo. He would uncover the full truth. And when he did, he would make sure that justice was served.

One way or another.