Chapter 10: The Nightmare Begins

**Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!**

In the secluded woods behind the Uchiha compound, Ren’s voice cut through the evening air. His hands flew through a series of hand seals with practiced ease—Tiger → Snake → Ram → Monkey → Boar → Tiger → Horse. He took a deep breath, chakra gathering in his throat, and exhaled a massive orb of roaring flame that scorched the clearing, leaving the air shimmering with heat and smelling of ozone and ash.

This was the first proper ninjutsu he had learned. Sasuke, eager to prove his own prowess, had taught it to him two years prior, a technique he himself had learned from Itachi. The Academy taught only the Three Basic Jutsu; everything else came from clan training or, in Ren’s case, a desperate need to get stronger.

His chakra nature, as he’d discovered long ago, was a dual affinity for Lightning and Fire—a potent combination shared by many in his clan. The Uchiha affinity for fire was as much a part of their legacy as the Sharingan itself.

“Enough for today,” Ren panted, sweat tracing lines through the dirt on his face. He walked to a large tree root and sat, his body humming with exhaustion and residual chakra.

*System. Check my points.*

***Host’s current point total: 2,739. Would you like to open the Exchange Interface?***

“No,” Ren replied. He had been saving the points from his daily stipend religiously for two years, a nest egg for a true emergency. He’d also received two annual lottery draws.

The first had granted him **Moon Walk (Geppo)**, another of the Navy’s Six Powers, allowing him to kick the air with such force he could achieve limited flight. The second was more unusual: a summoning contract with a species of psychic canines he could only describe as **Pug-Mastiffs**—a fiercely combative breed. The strongest he could currently summon was a ten-meter-tall beast from this clan named **Rokudō-Ō** (“King of the Six Paths”), though Ren privately called him **Lord Fluffy**. Despite the grandiose name, this particular beast was a notoriously ruthless brawler within his clan, having earned his status by triumphing in countless bloody fights, losing an eye in the process. He now wore a fearsome patch and a necklace of his fallen foes’ fangs.

Over these two years, Ren’s skills had sharpened dramatically. His Sharingan had evolved to two tomoe, and his overall prowess placed him firmly among the ranks of Konoha’s elite Genin, at least in raw potential.

“It’s getting late. Time for dinner.” He pushed himself up and began the short walk home, a sense of normalcy settling over him that he knew, deep down, was fragile.

When he arrived, he found Fugaku was not home, but Itachi was there—a rare occurrence. Sasuke was clinging to his every word.

“Ren. You’re back. Come here,” Itachi said, his voice softer than usual.

Ren approached, a flicker of curiosity cutting through his fatigue. “What is it, brother?”

“It’s nothing major,” Itachi said, a faint, uncharacteristic smile touching his lips. “It just occurred to me that the three of us haven’t truly talked in a long time.”

Ren was taken aback. Itachi was not one for casual conversation, especially not lately. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Sasuke,” Itachi turned to his younger brother, “you and Ren have always been distant. This isn’t good. We are brothers. You two are twins. That bond should be stronger than any other.”

Sasuke and Ren exchanged a brief, puzzled glance. The advice felt… off. Ominous.

“Boys! Whatever you’re talking about, dinner is ready!” Mikoto’s voice called from the kitchen, warm and grounding.

“It’s nothing,” Itachi said, the strange moment passing as quickly as it came. He stood. “Just… take care of each other. Let’s eat.”

The meal was quieter than usual. Itachi seemed contemplative, his eyes distant. Ren pushed his food around his plate, the sense of unease from the woods returning tenfold, coiling in his gut like a cold snake.

Later, lying in his own bed, Ren couldn’t shake the feeling. Itachi’s words, his unusual presence… it felt like a farewell. *Could it be… is it tonight?* The thought was a splash of ice water. The clan’s unrest, the village’s suspicion… it had all been building. He had tried to distance himself, to harden his heart, but the dread was now a physical weight on his chest.

He got up and padded softly to his parents’ room, knocking gently.

The door opened to reveal Mikoto, her hair down, dressed for sleep. “Ren? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Mother…” he began, the word feeling foreign and right on his tongue. “I… I was wondering if I could sleep in here tonight.”

Mikoto’s face softened into a beautiful, surprised smile. “Of course you can, Ren. I’d love that.” She ushered him in. “What brought this on?” she asked as she tucked him into the extra futon beside her own.

“Nothing,” he whispered, lying down and facing her. “I just wanted to be near you.”

Mikoto’s smile was radiant in the moonlight filtering through the window. “You called me ‘Mother’. That’s the first time in years.” She reached out and gently stroked his hair. “Get some sleep. You and Sasuke have school tomorrow. I heard there’s a test.”

“Goodnight… Mother.”

“Goodnight, my son.”

Mikoto fell asleep quickly. Ren did not. He lay awake for hours, watching the rise and fall of her chest, memorizing the peaceful lines of her face, a terrible, aching love and a crushing fear warring inside him.

—

The next day, Ren was up before dawn, exhaustion clinging to him. Mikoto made breakfast, and the two brothers left for the academy in a silence thicker than usual.

Ren’s restlessness grew throughout the day. He was distracted, barely registering greetings from Naruto, Akane, or Ino. His mind was a storm of dread. *Why today? Why do I feel like this?*

“Alright, settle down!” Iruka’s voice called the class to order. “We’re having a pop quiz today. One of the Three Basic Jutsu—the Transformation Technique. Line up!”

The test dragged on interminably. Ren fumbled his own transformation, something he hadn’t done in years, his focus shattered. Iruka gave him a concerned look but passed him.

The sun was beginning to set by the time the last student was done.

“School is dismissed!” Iruka announced.

“Hey, Ren! Let’s go get ramen! Celebrate surviving the test!” Naruto yelled, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Naruto. Not today. I have to go,” Ren mumbled, shrugging him off without even looking back. He began to run, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Sasuke, seeing the raw panic on his twin’s face—an emotion he’d never seen there before—felt a jolt of his own fear. Without understanding why, he broke into a sprint after him.

They ran through the streets, the familiar path to their compound feeling alien and menacing. As they reached the main gate, the first wrongness struck them.

It was silent.

The compound was never silent. There was always the sound of chatter, of training, of life. Now, there was nothing. An oppressive, dead quiet hung over the entire district.

The brothers exchanged a terrified glance and slowed to a walk, their steps echoing unnaturally loud in the stillness.

Then they saw them. Two figures lying crumpled near the pathway, dark pools staining the earth around them. It was an elderly couple who always greeted them on their way to school. Follow current novels on novel·fire.net

“Obaa-san! Oji-san!” Sasuke cried out, his voice trembling as he dropped to his knees and shook the man’s shoulder. There was no response. The skin was already cold.

“How… what happened?!” Sasuke looked up at Ren, his eyes wide with horror.

Ren didn’t answer. He was frozen, his face pale. “Mom,” he whispered. Then, louder, a desperate mantra: “Mom. Mom!” As if suddenly electrocuted, he broke into a frantic sprint towards their house, Sasuke scrambling to follow.

The horror escalated with every step. More bodies. Men, women. Lying in doorways, collapsed in the street. The Uchiha compound had become a graveyard.

They finally skidded to a halt in front of their home. It was dark. No lights were on. No smell of dinner cooking.

“Dad? Mom?” Sasuke called out, his voice a thin, reedy thing full of childlike fear.

A faint sound came from within the house. A scrape. A footstep.

Their hearts in their throats, they crept to the living room door, too afraid to push it open. They could only stare at each other, seeing their own terror reflected back.

Finally, Ren, his hand shaking violently, reached out and pushed the door.

It swung open silently.

The scene inside would be seared into their minds forever. Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto lay together in the center of the room, surrounded by a vast, dark crimson stain that soaked into the tatami mats. Their eyes were closed; they could have been sleeping if not for the brutal, final stillness of death.

“Dad! Mom!” Sasuke screamed, lurching forward.

A figure detached itself from the shadows in the corner of the room.

Ren didn’t even see him. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside his mother’s body, ignoring everything else. He gathered her cold, lifeless form into his arms, holding her tightly. The dam inside him broke. Silent, wrenching sobs shook his frame as he buried his face in her hair, his world collapsing into utter, absolute grief.

Itachi stepped fully into the dim light. He was clad in the full ANBU armor, his porcelain mask pushed to the top of his head. His face was a cold, emotionless mask. But his eyes… his eyes held the swirling, monstrous pattern of the Mangekyō Sharingan.

He looked at Sasuke, then his gaze fell upon Ren, clutching their dead mother.

He said nothing. The silence was louder than any scream. 

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