A deafening explosion shattered the air, an eruption of pure force that tore through the battlefield with devastating fury. The very ground trembled as if the earth itself was recoiling in pain. Kaito's strike—an unstoppable wave of destructive energy—obliterated everything within a radius of several hundred meters.
The sky above flickered with raw power, and the earth groaned under the cataclysmic impact. A massive crater, as wide as a small village, consumed the land where Itachi once stood, sending shockwaves that rattled the surrounding cliffs. They cracked and split, the jagged rocks cascading like an avalanche, tumbling into the river below with a thunderous crash.
The world seemed to hold its breath as the dust and smoke billowed into the air, a thick, choking veil obscuring everything. Silence reigned for a long, agonizing moment, the battlefield now a desolate wasteland, the echoes of destruction still hanging heavy in the air.
As the dust settled, Itachi Uchiha's figure emerged from the wreckage—half-buried in rubble, blood dripping from his lips with each ragged cough. His body trembled, barely able to stay upright. The glowing guardian that had shielded him in past was gone, shattered completely, leaving him defenseless. Yet, even through the pain, his eyes still held a flicker of defiance.
Coughing violently, he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lingering rumble of the battlefield.
"Please..." His voice was barely more than a whisper, lost beneath the distant echoes of destruction. "Spare Sasuke."
"He's innocent…" His fingers curled weakly against the rubble, the weight of years pressing down on him. He had sacrificed everything—his family, his name, his soul—but Sasuke… Sasuke could still be free.
"His path… he can still be saved…"
The words cracked as they left him, each one drenched in regret, in love, in the unbearable ache of an older brother who had given everything for a future he would never see.
And yet, even as darkness crept at the edges of his mind, his heart clung to that last, desperate hope.
That Sasuke would live. That Sasuke would be free.
That, after everything, it would all mean something.
Kaito's gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the cold edge of his fury faltering. His red eyes, sharp as a blade, flickered with something that resembled pity.
He stepped closer, his boots crunching the shattered ground beneath him. "I have no grudge against him," Kaito replied, his voice low but clear, carrying an undeniable weight. "As long as he doesn't come after me, he'll live. But make no mistake—this is between you and me, Uchiha."
Itachi's breath hitched, each gasp more ragged than the last. His chest rose and fell unevenly, lungs fighting for air that refused to come. His body was failing him—betraying him.
He tried to speak. His lips trembled, but no sound came. His throat burned, raw from blood and exhaustion, and the weight in his chest pressed down like a curse.
But he had to say something.
He had to make Kaito understand.
He had to protect the only thing that still mattered.
He had to.
His fingers twitched—reaching, desperate—but his arms felt like they were made of stone. The strength that had carried him through war, through slaughter, through an entire life of sacrifice—gone.
He could feel it slipping through his grasp, just like everything else.
Just like his family.Just like his future.Just like his brother.
His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in, swallowing the world piece by piece.
This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
He had accepted death long ago, had welcomed it, had been ready to die a thousand times over—but not like this. Not when there were still words left unsaid, still truths buried beneath the weight of his sins.
His lips parted. One last attempt. One last plea.
Nothing.
Too late.
His body refused him, and all he could do was watch as the world around him faded.
The last thing he felt—before the cold, before the silence, before the inevitable nothing—WAS FAILURE.
Kaito, however, had no patience left for this. He stepped closer still, his golden blade gleaming under the dim light of the battlefield. "We're enemies, Uchiha," he said, his voice filled with coldness.
"I have no obligation to hear your last words."
Before Itachi could plead one last time, Kaito's blade struck.
There was no hesitation. No mercy.
Steel met flesh with a sickening finality, the whisper of the blade drowned out only by the sound of shallow, struggling breath. Itachi's body seized—just for a moment, just long enough for the pain to register—before his already weakened frame gave out beneath him. His knees hit the ground first, the impact barely felt against the numbness spreading through his limbs.
His fingers twitched, grasping at nothing. His breath came in short, fragile gasps, each one thinner than the last. Blood—warm, thick—spilled from the corner of his lips, trailing down his chin, staining the already ruined fabric of his cloak.
He was dying.
And yet… even now, the world was cruel.
The battlefield around him remained unchanged, indifferent to the man collapsing within it. The sky did not weep. The earth did not tremble. The village he had given everything for would not stop to mourn him. His name, his sacrifice, his suffering—none of it would be remembered for what it truly was.
The truth of Itachi Uchiha would die with him.
His vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges. He was tired. Gods, he was so tired. He had carried the weight of an entire clan's sins upon his shoulders, walked a path drenched in blood, sacrificed everything—and yet, at the end of it all, he was leaving behind nothing but hatred.
His fingers curled weakly against the dirt. His lips parted, a whisper escaping—so faint, so broken, it barely formed into words.
"Sasuke…"
The plea barely left his lips before another violent cough tore through him, his failing lungs unable to support even that last desperate wish. Blood splattered against the dirt, stark red against cold stone.
His chest ached—not from the wound, but from the crushing weight of regret. He would never see Sasuke grow beyond the hatred he had planted in him. Never see if his little brother would be strong enough to break free from the cycle of vengeance that had consumed them all.
His little brother had clung to his leg that night, confusion in his wide, innocent eyes.
"Nii-san?"
He could still hear it, even now—so small, so trusting.
Would Sasuke understand? Would he ever know why his brother had done all of this? Or would he walk in the darkness forever, cursing his name, blinded by the hatred Itachi had forced him to bear?
His body swayed.
For so long, he had fought to stay standing. For so long, he had endured.
But now—at last—his body gave in.
He collapsed, his weight sinking into the cold, lifeless ground. His fingers, once strong enough to wield a blade with terrifying precision, now lay limp at his side. His breath, once steady and controlled, faded into silence.
The world blurred.
Then, there was nothing.
No warmth. No pain. No weight of duty pressing on his shoulders.
Just quiet.
Just darkness.
Just… peace.
Kaito stood motionless over the fallen Uchiha, his shadow stretching across the broken ground. The battlefield was silent now—no more whispers of desperate breaths, no more defiance in those fading red eyes. Just stillness.
His own breathing was steady, unaffected. There was no hesitation in his movements as he knelt beside the lifeless body, fingers brushing against cooling skin. Carefully, methodically, he extracted the Mangekyō Sharingan—the last remnants of the man who had given everything, and lost it all.
For a fleeting moment, his fingers lingered, the warmth of fading life still clinging to his skin.
Then it was gone.
Kaito exhaled, quiet, controlled. His gaze flickered over the broken shell of a man who had once been feared, once been powerful, once been something more than just another corpse left behind in the endless cycle of war.
"In your next life," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, carried away by the wind. Regret, pity—something unreadable flickered in his eyes, but only for an instant. Then, like everything else, it vanished.
"Perhaps you'll choose a better path."
He rose without another glance, stepping away from the ruin he had left behind, the blood already drying on his hands. The dead did not need mourning.
With a single flick of his wrist, he wiped the blood from his blade, the battlefield now eerily silent, save for the distant sound of crumbling stone and rushing water. The world had changed forever.