Night of the Clan Massacre (1)—The Red Moon

The moon was very red.

Shuo Ye saw it from the window. It was not an adjective—it was truly red. Like a bronze mirror soaked in blood, it hung over the night sky of the Hidden Leaf Village. The light was wrong, staining every rooftop in the Uchiha Clan compound a dark crimson.

"Don't go outside tonight."

His father's voice came from behind him. It was not an order—Takuma rarely gave orders to his family. But those words carried more weight than any order.

"It might... get very noisy outside."

Shuo Ye nodded.

He did not ask why. He knew.

The door closed. His parents' footsteps headed downstairs toward the living room. Then came quiet voices—his mother was asking whether they should notify others in the clan to come look after Shuo Ye. His father said there was no need. They would discuss it tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Shuo Ye sat on the windowsill, watching the red moon.

He had spent seven years waiting for this night. From the first day he had transmigrated into this world, he had known this day would come. He had tried many times—to change it.

What could a seven-year-old child do?

He had tried casually mentioning Danzo's danger in front of his father. Takuma had merely patted his head and said, "Adults will handle adults' affairs."

He had tried finding a chance to approach the Third Hokage. But a six-year-old Uchiha Clan child wanting to meet the Hokage—everyone would think he was dreaming.

He had even tried "accidentally" revealing certain things to Sasuke at the training grounds. But seven-year-old Sasuke's eyes held only "becoming stronger" and "surpassing his brother."

None of the paths led anywhere.

Then—

The first scream came from the direction of Naka Shrine.

It was not very loud. From so far away, separated by rows of houses in the clan compound, only a faint lingering echo reached him. Like the wind. Like some animal crying in the distance.

But Shuo Ye recognized it.

It was a human voice.

He jumped down from the windowsill.

"Shuo Ye!" His mother's voice rang out sharply from downstairs—she had never spoken in that tone before.

He did not answer.

He was wearing pajamas. There were no socks on his feet. When he opened the door, the air in the corridor was cold—the April nights in the Hidden Leaf Village still carried the chill of spring.

Then he saw them.

There were already corpses on the streets of the clan compound.

The auntie who sold dango—the one who gave him an extra dango every morning and said, "You're growing, so eat more"—was lying at the entrance of her shop. Her apron was covered in blood. Her eyes were open, staring at the moon overhead.

Shuo Ye's mind went blank.

He knew.

He knew this day would come. He had spent seven years telling himself over and over that he would not panic when he saw it, that knowing beforehand would keep him from being crushed.

But his mind still went blank.

This was not a manga panel. Not a backdrop in an anime. This auntie had smiled at him just yesterday afternoon and said, "Little Shuo Ye, want another one? Mom made red bean filling today."

Shuo Ye's feet were moving. He did not know when he had started running. He could not even remember how he had dashed out of the house.

The streets were covered in blood.

He recognized every face.

The old grandpa who always played shogi at the entrance to the clan compound. The young ninja who had taught him how to grip a shuriken. The older sister who gave him candy during ceremonies.

All of them.

All of them lay there.

The blood reflected the moonlight. It was bright. The red gleam was exactly the same color as the moon.

"It's... already started."

Shuo Ye's lips moved, but no sound came out.

He ran toward home.

Not because he was afraid. It was because—he had to make sure.

He told himself that perhaps his parents in this life, his home in this life—perhaps they would be different. Perhaps he had changed something, even if only a little. Perhaps he had done something in advance.

He had told himself that for seven years.

But then his knees buckled. He fell to the ground, his hand landing in a pool of blood. It was cold.

Then he climbed back up and kept running.