Uchiha Izumi did not know how long she had been crouching in that corner.
Maybe a minute. Maybe a lifetime.
She remembered her mother's blood. It had been warm. Warm as it flowed from her mother's hair. Sticky as it smeared across her hands.
She remembered that blade. The curved sword aimed at her throat. Firelight gleamed brightly along its edge.
She had thought she was going to die.
Then that person appeared.
He fell from the sky. Like a monster from a storybook, smashing straight through the roof.
She had not seen his face clearly. Because from beginning to end, his back had been to her.
But she remembered that silhouette.
Black clothes. Darker than the night. But not the kind of black that frightened people. It was the kind that made her feel that, as long as she stood behind that shadow, nothing bad could come near her.
Then she remembered red.
Dark crimson.
Not the red of blood. It was a deeper, brighter red, one that flowed. Like the fire beneath the pot when her mother cooked, only a hundred times greater.
That red surged from that person's hands, arms, and back, dyeing the entire world dark crimson.
Amid that red, the bad people screamed. But the screams vanished after a single cry.
Then there was silence.
Izumi crouched in the corner, hugging her knees.
Sounds from outside drifted in intermittently.
First came a dull boom. Then the sound of something shattering. Then a scream—the scream lasted perhaps half a second from start to finish.
Then it was quiet again.
After that came noises from farther away. But they were too distant for Izumi to hear clearly.
All she could feel was—heat.
The ground was heating up. The walls were heating up. The air was heating up.