Outside the window, the autumn wind rustled mournfully. Thunderstorms seemed to be brewing in the gloomy sky.
The storm sweeping through Konoha and swallowing the Uchiha Clan was already unstoppable. Itachi Uchiha, a ninja toyed with by fate and bound by chains, stood at its center, enduring endless anguish and despair as he awaited the cruel ending that was certain to come.
Night fell like ink, shrouding all of Konoha in darkness. Even the faint moonlight was blocked by thick clouds, leaving only boundless blackness, swept through the forest by the bone-chilling wind.
The heavy atmosphere of the day grew denser in the dead of night, like a haze that would not lift, pressing down until it was hard to breathe. The Konoha High Command's scheming continued, the Uchiha Clan's unease grew stronger, and at the heart of the storm, Itachi Uchiha was setting out alone on a road that led to hell.
After saying goodbye to Sasuke, who was sound asleep, Itachi gently closed the door, moving as softly as if he were afraid of disturbing his little brother's peaceful dreams.
He wore a black fitted outfit, its Uchiha Clan crest concealed. The wind lifted his long black hair, obscuring the impossibly complex emotions in his eyes.
His dull Sharingan glimmered faintly crimson in the darkness, reflecting off his pale, bloodless face. There was nothing in his expression but bone-deep exhaustion and despair.
Without the slightest hesitation, he flashed away into the shadows of the Uchiha district, like a lonely night owl speeding toward the forest beyond Konoha.
Branches in the forest scratched his arms, leaving thin wounds. The bone-chilling wind carried the smell of blood straight to him, but he felt no pain. Compared to the anguish tearing at his heart, the wounds on his body were no