[A New Game Begins]
Itachi walked through the quiet streets of Konoha, his hand still slightly trembling as it clutched the small, bloodstained container holding Shisui's eye. The metallic scent of his own blood lingered in the air, dried over his fingers from when he had taken the eye. His thoughts were a tangled mess—he didn't kill Shisui. His body did. Like a scene playing out in a movie while he was strapped into a seat, forced to watch. And now, here he was, stuck in Itachi Uchiha's body, in the aftermath of a moment that should have changed him forever.
But instead of grief, all he felt was… frustration.
'This is such a drag.'
A deep sigh escaped him, the weight of everything pressing on his shoulders. He needed to think—about the eye, about the clan, about what the hell he was even supposed to do now. But before he could even finish that train of thought—
**[DING!]**
A mechanical chime echoed through his skull, clear as day, stopping him dead in his tracks. His Sharingan eyes widened slightly. The hell?
**[Welcome, Player! Would you like to activate TUTORIAL MODE?]**
'...What?'
He stiffened, looking around. No one was there. The village streets were empty this late at night, the only sounds being the distant murmurs of a few drunken shinobi enjoying their break from duty. But the voice… It was crisp, emotionless, and *inside* his head.
**[TUTORIAL MODE allows you to fully synchronize with Uchiha Itachi's body, techniques, and muscle memory. Improve reaction time, accuracy, and execution of high-level jutsu with guided training. Would you like to start?]**
A game system? In *this* world?
'Okay. Either I've finally snapped under the pressure, or… this is real.'
If this was real—if this system actually worked—then he had no excuse. If he had any chance of surviving in Itachi's body, he *needed* to master every skill, every jutsu, and every technique this man was known for.
But he wasn't about to jump into something blindly.
'Alright. Let's say I accept. How does this work? Do I get dropped into some mental training room, or do I wake up with perfect reflexes overnight?'
**[TUTORIAL MODE engages via an isolated mental simulation. Your real body will remain stationary and be put in a deep sleep while you experience accelerated combat training within a controlled environment. Time moves differently inside—one hour of real-world time equals five hours in the simulation.]**
Now *that* was an interesting mechanic. That meant he could train for hours without losing real time. He could get stronger without drawing suspicion.
He exhaled slowly.
'Fine. Let's do this after I get home, I can't have my body pass out in the middle of the road.
---
The Uchiha Clan Compound stood in contrast to the lively streets of Konoha. There were no blaring laughter or drunken shinobi staggering home from the bars. No bustling merchants trying to scam unsuspecting customers. Here, everything was orderly, structured—a small world of its own, untouched by the chaos beyond its gates.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't joyful.
But it had its own charm.
Families sat outside their homes, enjoying modest meals. A few children trained under the watchful eyes of their parents, their small hands forming imperfect hand seals. Patrols of Uchiha police officers made their rounds with quiet efficiency. No wasted movement, no unnecessary words. Just people trying to get by.
Itachi—or rather, the new Itachi—took it all in, knowing that these people… these men, women, and children… were already marked for death.
'This place is a powder keg. One wrong move and everyone here gets wiped out.'
The knowledge sat heavy in his gut, but he forced himself to keep walking, his steps measured and precise. Itachi wouldn't stop in the streets to admire the view or brood over what was to come. Itachi was composed. Detached.
He had to play the part.
As he approached his family estate, he noticed a lone figure waiting by the koi pond. Even in the dim lantern light, his father's presence was unmistakable.
Fugaku Uchiha stood with his arms folded, his sharp gaze reflecting off the water's surface. He wasn't a man who wasted time on unnecessary pleasantries. If he was waiting here, it was because he expected something.
A report. A response. Something.
Itachi walked up, keeping his posture calm and composed.
"You're back." Fugaku's voice was firm, but not unkind. "I assume you have something to tell me."
A test. His father expected him to say something.
The tension wrapped around his chest like a vice. He didn't know what Itachi should say right now. What did the original plan entail? What had the old Itachi been planning to tell his father after this?
No answer came to mind.
So, he stalled.
"I need time to think," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "There are… things I must process before giving my report."
Fugaku studied him for a long moment, dark eyes scrutinizing his every movement.
Itachi forced himself to meet his father's gaze, keeping his expression blank, as if he had merely returned from another day at the Academy rather than murdering his best friend and stealing his eye.
Finally, Fugaku gave a slight nod.
"Very well. I expect you to have an answer soon."
He turned slightly, looking back at the water. "There will be a clan meeting tonight. Do not be late."
Itachi bowed his head in response, then walked past him, moving toward his room.
The moment he shut the door behind him, he let out a slow, quiet breath.
'Alright. I bought myself some time. Now I need a plan.'
Then the earlier message from the market ringed out. Tutorial Mode! He propted himself on his bed and laid down. 'Start Tutorial Mode.'
[TUTORIAL MODE ACTIVATED.]
The world around him suddenly darkened, like ink bleeding into the corners of his vision. The quiet streets of Konoha blurred, and then—
Everything went black.
'…What the hell?'
For a long moment, he didn't answer. His mind raced through possibilities. Genjutsu? Some kind of mental attack? No, that didn't make sense. He didn't feel the unnatural weight of a genjutsu. It was something else.
The voice spoke again.
"Tutorial Mode is designed to assist new users in adapting to their current body and abilities. Would you like to begin?"
His brow twitched. New users? The wording made it sound as if whatever force had dragged him into this body knew he wasn't the original Itachi.
Which meant… there was something out there toying with him.
Gritting his teeth, he exhaled. There was no point in hesitating. If this thing wanted him dead, he'd be dead already.
"Fine," he muttered. "Start the tutorial."
"Acknowledged. Beginning Tutorial Mode."
Darkness consumed his vision.
And then—
He was somewhere else.
A vast, empty space stretched endlessly in all directions. The ground beneath his feet was reflective, like glass, yet it rippled like water with each step. Above him, there was no sky, only an abyss filled with shifting red clouds, swirling in unnatural patterns.
And standing before him…
Was himself.
No. Not exactly.
It was Itachi, but not as he was now. This version looked sharper, more refined—like the battle-hardened Itachi from the later years of the series. His cloak billowed slightly despite the absence of wind, and his blood-red Mangekyō spun lazily in his eyes.
"You believe that my decision was a mistake." His tone was Icey, distant. In this moment Itachi was in serial-killer mode. At any moment he could end me.
Then in the next moment her appears right behind me in an instant.
The older Itachi continues to speak. "You believe that my choices were foolish and that you. A boy couldn't do more than 100 pushups could be a better ninja than me. Could save my mother and father? My clan? SASUKE!!?" The last part he roars at me in anger, in disgust.
I wanted to apologize. To beg for my life. But no words could come out. In this moment I was truely terrified. I think the worst part is I knew he was behind me but there was another version of him. A clone? Maybe an illusion? But the Itachi in front of me never broke I contact. Seriously how is he doing that? Maybe that's why he had the eye disease, the guy never wanted to blink.
"Let's begin," the older Itachi said, his voice calm yet unyielding. "You have much to learn."
A weight settled in his gut.
This was going to hurt.
The older Itachi raised a hand, and suddenly—
BOOM!
The ground cracked beneath him. An unseen force sent a shockwave outward, making the rippling surface beneath his feet tremble. The weight of pure killing intent bore down on him like a crushing tide, threatening to suffocate him where he stood.
His body screamed at him to move— now.
And then his opponent vanished.
His instincts screamed. He barely had time to tilt his head before a kunai sliced through the air where his throat had been.
'Fast—!'
A hand grabbed his wrist. A twist, a pull—his balance shattered. His body flipped before he could even react. The next thing he knew, his back slammed against the cold ground, pain flaring through his spine.
Above him, the older Itachi loomed, a kunai hovering just over his heart.
"You're too slow," his opponent said, voice devoid of emotion.
His mind reeled. His body had reacted, but not well enough. His movements felt… off. It wasn't a lack of skill—it was a lack of familiarity. It was like being given the controls to an advanced fighter jet without ever stepping into a cockpit before.
"I need time to adjust," he gritted out.
"You don't have time," the older Itachi said flatly. "Your enemies won't wait for you to figure it out."
The kunai vanished. The weight pressing on his chest disappeared. He blinked, realizing he was standing again, his body completely unscathed.
Reset?
"Again," the older Itachi ordered.
And then he was attacking.
[MISSION OBJECTIVE: Survive for Five Minutes]
A fist shot toward his ribs. He barely blocked it, the impact rattling his bones. He countered with a kunai slash—deflected. A roundhouse kick—dodged.
The older Itachi was relentless. His movements were precise, calculated. His attacks left no wasted motion, no room for counterplay.
And yet—
He was adjusting.
Each exchange brought him closer to understanding the way this body moved. How much force to put into each strike. The timing of his Sharingan's predictions. The instinctive shift in his stance when he used the Uchiha taijutsu style.
His breathing steadied. His vision sharpened.
Then—
The older Itachi smirked.
'Wait—'
The world shifted.
A ripple in the air.
And suddenly, a thousand crows exploded around him. Their shrieks filled the space, black feathers clouding his sight. His Sharingan spun wildly, struggling to distinguish illusion from reality.
Genjutsu.
And then—
A blade pierced through his chest.
Pain. White-hot, searing pain. His breath hitched as the kunai twisted, blood pooling in his throat. His legs buckled—
And then—
He was back at the start.
Standing. Unharmed. The older Itachi watching him impassively.
"Lesson two," the voice echoed. "Never let your guard down."
His fingers twitched. He swallowed, still feeling the phantom pain of the blade that had just been inside him.
This was going to be hell.
"Again," the older Itachi commanded.
And this time, he was ready.