Mikoto found herself drifting through a dream, an eerie yet familiar warmth surrounding her. The previous Agni Kai felt like a fleeting memory, vanishing like embers in the wind. Instead, she saw the moments that made life worth living—the family trip to the Fire Land Capital's festival, Sasuke's laughter echoing as she carried him through the bustling streets. The birthday party where Kushina and Minato were still alive, their smiles bright, untouched by tragedy. Picking Sasuke up from the Academy, his small hand wrapped around hers as he excitedly told her about his day. These memories filled her with warmth—until she thought of Itachi.
A cold, creeping fear settled in her chest. Her son. What he had done. What he would do.
Flashes of battle, his calculated movements, his unwavering eyes. Blood spilled under the weight of his decisions. And then—something foreign. A new vision unfolded before her. A vast grassy plain, a village unlike any she had ever seen. Towering buildings, banners of unknown clans fluttering in the wind, a port teeming with ships. People cheered, raising their hands to the sky. Atop a high balcony, a tall figure stood, clad in the elegant robes of a Kage. The purple hat, the white haori, the presence that commanded the respect of all.
The man lifted his hat, revealing a familiar face.
Itachi.
Mikoto's eyes shot open as she woke with a gasp, her body slick with sweat. Her breath came in ragged pulls as she frantically scanned her surroundings. The walls of the Uchiha Clinic came into focus, and beside her, Sasuke was slumped in a chair, fast asleep. His small face, peaceful and unaware, eased the frantic pounding of her heart. She reached out, brushing his hair gently before her gaze flicked toward the other bed in the room.
Fugaku lay there, bandaged but alive. Relief flooded her. Itachi hadn't killed him. The confusion remained—why? What had changed? Didn't Itachi want them dead?
She was too exhausted to untangle the mess in her mind. Instead, she pulled Sasuke into the bed beside her, holding him close. The answers could wait until morning.
Meanwhile, at the Uchiha Clan Head's estate, Itachi leaned against the wall, idly munching on an apple. The taste was crisp, but his mind was far from the simple pleasure of late-night snacks. He went over the immediate future in his head, piecing together a plan.
'Alright, so tomorrow they'll want to find Shisui and demand answers. Then the Elders will expect me to slaughter the entire clan. Danzo will pull his usual card—spare Sasuke if I do his dirty work. What a guy. Kill my best friend, murder my family, and in return, I get to let my little brother live. All so he can get his grubby little stump on more Sharingan.
And then, like clockwork, Obito will slink out of the shadows, whispering sweet nothings about how Konoha has failed me. Offering me a spot in his lovely terrorist organization. It's almost funny, really.'
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he bit into the apple again.
'In my past life, I thought this was simple. I thought I was making the best choice. But now? Now it's just a mess.'
Tossing the apple core aside, Itachi straightened up, stretching his limbs as he made his decision.
'Danzo is strong, but I can take him. Fugaku can too. But we're outnumbered. I need to move quickly before they target the civilians. I need allies. And I know exactly where to start.'
Pushing off the wall, he strolled through the quiet streets of the Uchiha compound. Even at this late hour, life still stirred. The compound wasn't just a district—it was a small village of its own.
As he walked, he received respectful nods from passing clansmen, polite bows from off-duty police officers, and drunken cheers from those celebrating the new clan leader.
"Clan Leader Itachi!" some called out.
"Long live the Uchiha!" another voice slurred, accompanied by the clinking of sake bottles.
"Make the Uchiha Great Again!" an older man bellowed, a relic of the previous generation.
Itachi waved, offering a small smile to the children who gazed up at him with admiration.
But his feet didn't falter. He had a destination in mind.
Ten minutes later, he arrived at a familiar doorstep. The modest home of a man who should have never been lost to history.
Shisui.