The Warning Taken for Madness

The setting sun stretched the shadows long.

Xuan Shi stepped barefoot onto the scorching stone road.

A stinging pain came from the soles of his feet where gravel had cut them open. His socks had long since worn through, but he only lifted his legs mechanically, brought them down, then lifted them again. His lungs rasped like a battered old bellows, and his throat was full of the taste of blood.

Just two more intersections.

That was Shisui Uchiha's home.

"He has to be there."

Xuan Shi forced the words out through clenched teeth, sweat dripping down his chin and onto his collar.

Along the way, clan members saw this normally steady police force member sprinting like a stray dog and turned to stare. Someone tried to call out to him, but Xuan Shi did not hear at all.

It was just ahead.

A residence with its own courtyard.

Xuan Shi slammed on the brakes. His body lurched forward from the momentum, and he nearly fell. He threw himself in front of the vermilion gate and raised his fist.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Dull impacts echoed down the street at dusk.

"Shisui! Open the door!"

No one answered.

Only the buzzing tremor of the door knocker remained.

Xuan Shi did not stop. His fist smashed into the door panel again and again. His knuckles split open, and blood smeared across the vermilion paint, turning it a dark red.

"Shisui Uchiha! I know you're inside! Come out!"

His voice was hoarse, carrying a tremor he did not even notice himself.

Creak—

The courtyard gate next door opened.

A middle-aged woman in a dark blue yukata poked her head out, still holding a half-trimmed handful of greens. When she saw Xuan Shi, his face covered in blood and his state almost deranged, she was so frightened she shrank back.

"Xuan Shi? What are you doing?"

Xuan Shi jerked his head around. His bloodshot eyes locked fiercely onto the woman, scaring her so badly the greens in her hand scattered all over the ground.

"Where's Shisui? Where is he?"

The woman swallowed and pointed at the tightly shut gate. "Shisui... Shisui hasn't been there since yesterday."

Boom.

It was as if something collapsed inside Xuan Shi's mind.

He seized the bars of the woman's courtyard gate, gripping them so hard his knuckles turned white. "Yesterday? What time yesterday? Who came for him? Where did he go?"

"D-don't be so fierce."

The woman panicked a little and tried hard to remember. "It was around yesterday evening. Two Anbu wearing masks came and said the Hokage had summoned him for an urgent mission. Shisui left with them, and after that I never saw him come back. The lights in his house weren't on all night."

Yesterday evening.

Anbu.

Never came back.

Those words were like rusty steel nails, driving one after another into the top of Xuan Shi's skull.

Too late.

A full day too late.

The original timeline had never been fixed in stone. The butterfly effect had already begun. During the time after his system awakened, while he was here simulating the future, the Uchiha's last hope, the man who possessed Kotoamatsukami, had probably already sunk to the icy bottom of Naka River.

Or worse, that eye had already been gouged out by Danzo and placed into that disgusting bottle.

"Ah—!"

Xuan Shi let go and let out a beastlike growl. He clutched his head, slid down along the doorframe, and knelt on the ground.

Gone.

The one chance to turn things around was gone too.

The commotion here was too loud, and nearby residents opened their doors one after another to look. Several police force members on patrol also heard the noise and rushed over, pushing through the crowd.

The one leading them was an old man with grizzled hair and sinister eyes.

Yashiro Uchiha.

A core member of the clan's hardliners, and one of the police force's higher-ups.

"What are you howling about over there?"

Yashiro frowned and walked up to Xuan Shi with his hands behind his back, looking down at this disheveled clan member from above. "As a member of the police force, you're improperly dressed and making a racket in the street. Have you no sense of propriety?"

Xuan Shi slowly raised his head.

His gaze passed through the crowd. He saw Yashiro's face, full of arrogance and impatience, and he also saw the looks on the surrounding clan members' faces, as if they were watching a show.

They still did not know.

They still thought this was just an ordinary dusk, that the sun would rise as usual tomorrow, that the Uchiha would still be Konoha's foremost prestigious clan.

An uncontrollable fury burned up from the ashes of despair.

Xuan Shi swayed to his feet and shoved aside Tekka, who had wanted to come help him.

"Lord Yashiro."

Xuan Shi stared at Yashiro, his voice like sandpaper scraping over a tabletop. "Shisui is missing."

Yashiro froze for a moment, then gave a disdainful snort. "Missing? Didn't he go on a mission? Does Shisui the Body Flicker need you to worry about his abilities? Instead of worrying about him, you should worry about your own attendance this month."

"He was taken by Danzo!"

Xuan Shi abruptly raised his voice and pointed toward the Hokage Building. "That old bastard Danzo is going to make a move against him! He wants Shisui's eyes! Shisui isn't coming back! He's already dead!"

The words were like a thunderclap on level ground.

The whispering crowd around them instantly fell silent.

Everyone's eyes widened as they stared at Xuan Shi as though staring at a monster.

Yashiro's face darkened in an instant, black as the bottom of a pot.

"Shut your mouth!"

Yashiro shouted sharply and took a step forward, chakra faintly surging around him. "Do you know what you're saying? Danzo Shimura may be sinister, but he's only the Hokage's assistant. Shisui is the strongest fighting force of us Uchiha. Give Danzo ten times the nerve, would he dare touch Shisui?"

"What wouldn't he dare do?"

Xuan Shi pressed forward a step, spittle almost spraying onto Yashiro's face. "Are you all still dreaming? The village has long since treated us like a malignant tumor! The Anbu are watching us, Root is sharpening its knives! Shisui is only the first step. Next, it's us!"

He swept his gaze over the surroundings, looking at those pairs of familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, and roared:

"Wake up! There are no peace negotiations! In three days, it's our death date! Danzo will act, Itachi will act, and Obito will act too! We'll all die, not a single one left!"

Smack!

A loud slap.

Xuan Shi's face was knocked to the side, and half his cheek rapidly swelled. A trace of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

Yashiro drew back his hand, his chest heaving violently.

"Mad."

Yashiro pointed at Xuan Shi and said to the surrounding clan members, "This man has gone completely mad. The village's recent targeting broke his mind, and now he's spouting nonsense."

"I'm not mad!"

Xuan Shi jerked his head back and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his eyes scarlet. "I have proof! I have..."

Proof?

What proof did he have?

The system panel? No one could see it.

Memories of his past life? If he said that, they would think he had been caught in a genjutsu.

The simulation result? That was just an image.

Xuan Shi opened his mouth, but his voice suddenly stuck in his throat.

He realized, miserably, that he could not produce anything at all.

In this ninja world that valued strength and evidence, the "prophecy" of a special jonin was not worth even a fart in the eyes of these arrogant elites.

"Take him away."

Yashiro waved his hand in disgust and did not look at Xuan Shi again. "Send him home. Let him clear his head. If he dares come out again and spread rumors that shake morale, then by clan rules, lock him in the dungeon at Naka Shrine."

Two tall police force members came forward.

"Xuan Shi, stop making trouble."

One of them said in a low voice, but his hands did not hesitate at all as he twisted Xuan Shi's arms behind his back.

Xuan Shi did not resist.

Because it was useless.

He was hauled up like a puddle of mud, his feet dragging along the ground.

The toes scraped raw during his run left faint trails of blood across the stone road.

The surrounding clan members made way.

Those gazes.

Sympathy, contempt, mockery, indifference.

"What a pity. So young, and he's already scared out of his wits."

"Exactly. Talking about the clan being wiped out, how unlucky."

"How could the Uchiha possibly be wiped out? As long as Clan Leader Fugaku gives the order, even Konoha's upper ranks will have to tremble."

"That kid usually looks so honest. Who knew he was this fragile inside?"

The murmurs drilled into his ears like flies.

Xuan Shi lowered his head and watched the shadows on the ground constantly retreat.

This was the Uchiha.

Arrogant, conceited, trapped in their old ways.

They were immersed in past glory, thinking that with a pair of Sharingan, they could run rampant through the ninja world. They had no idea that the sickle of the era was already pressed against their necks.

They could not be saved.

This bunch of fools truly could not be saved.

Xuan Shi closed his eyes. Tears slid down, mixed with the blood and grime on his face.

Not because of pain, nor because of grievance.

But because of that deep, deep powerlessness.

He clearly held the script in his hands. He clearly saw the cliff. Yet no matter how hoarsely he screamed, this carriage full of his loved ones still charged merrily toward the abyss.

"Let go. I'll walk myself."

When they were nearly at his front door, Xuan Shi said hoarsely.

The two team members holding him exchanged a look and released him.

"Xuan Shi, rest at home for a few days." One of them sighed and patted his shoulder. "Don't think about all that nonsense. If the sky falls, the clan leader and the lords will hold it up."

With that, the two turned and left, quickly disappearing into the night.

Xuan Shi leaned against the courtyard wall and gasped for breath.

Night had fully descended.

Streetlights lit up one after another, their dim yellow halos shrouding the clan grounds in a haze.

From far away, he could occasionally still hear a few dog barks, and the shouts of some child practicing with shuriken.

What a peaceful night.

So peaceful it made him want to vomit.

Xuan Shi turned around and placed his hand on the door handle.

Just then.

Caw—

A grating crow cry tore through the night sky.

Xuan Shi's movements stopped.

A chill a hundred times stronger than when he had faced Yashiro shot up from his tailbone in an instant.

He slowly raised his head.

At the top of the utility pole directly across from his front door...

A pitch-black crow was tilting its head, staring at him with eyes like black beans.

And on the crossbar beside the crow crouched a person.

A gray Anbu vest, a short sword on his back. The fox mask on his face was hanging askew to one side of his head, revealing a face far too young.

In that instant, Xuan Shi's breathing stopped.

Itachi Uchiha.

He did not look at the streetlight, nor at the moon. Those deep black eyes, abyssal in their depth, were staring down at Xuan Shi from above, utterly without emotion.

That was not the gaze one used to look at a fellow clan member.

It was not even the gaze one used to look at a person.

It was the gaze of a butcher sizing up a lamb for slaughter. He was judging where to make the cut so that less blood would flow and the cries would be softer.

Xuan Shi opened his mouth, wanting to shout, but his throat seemed to be blocked by something.

Itachi said nothing.

He merely watched Xuan Shi quietly for three seconds.

Then his body scattered into countless crows.

Flap, flap, flap—

Black feathers filled the air and danced beneath the streetlight, like paper money scattered for the funeral soon to come.

The crows dispersed, and the utility pole was empty.

As if no one had ever been there.

But Xuan Shi knew he had come.

The reaper had already marked the time.

Itachi had heard every bit of the "crazy nonsense" he had spouted on the street just now. It was even possible that if Yashiro had not had someone drag him away, Itachi's blade would already have been drawn.

With trembling hands, Xuan Shi pushed open his front door, stumbled inside, then turned and locked it tight, pressing his back against the door as he gasped for breath.

The house was pitch-black.

Only a sliver of light leaked out from the crack beneath Qian's bedroom door.

"Brother? Is that you back?"

Qian's voice carried a trace of fear and worry.

Xuan Shi did not answer.

He slid down along the door and sat on the floor, clutching his knees tightly with both hands, his teeth chattering.

The simulation was right.

Reality was even more hopeless than the simulation.

Shisui was dead.

The clansmen were a herd of pigs that could not be woken.

Itachi was already sharpening his blade.

Countdown: 71:15:00

Xuan Shi raised his hand and looked at his palm.

There was a cut there from when he had pounded on the door earlier, and the blood had already clotted.

"Going it alone... is a dead end."

He muttered to himself in the darkness, his voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

"Relying on others... is also a dead end."

"Then what road is left?"

His gaze pierced through the darkness and fell on the fan-shaped clan emblem hanging in the very center of the living room.

That was the glory of the Uchiha.

It was also the curse of the Uchiha.

Since none of you believe me.

Since all of you want to die.

Then don't blame me for being ruthless.

Xuan Shi's gaze gradually changed. The terror, anger, and grievance from earlier slowly settled, bit by bit, condensing into a cold, crazed resolve.

He could not beat Itachi.

He could not persuade Yashiro.

Then he would let them... die once with their own eyes.

He slowly stood up, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and walked toward his bedroom.

This time, his steps no longer staggered.

Every step landed heavily.

As if he were measuring the distance to hell.

"System."

He silently called in his heart.

"Besides simulation, isn't there another function called... regression?"

That gray button looked especially glaring on his retina at this moment.

That was his final stake.

And also the only qualification he had to flip the chessboard.

But before that.

He first had to make his own death a little more valuable.