Dreamed of Them Again

Fine rain, like silk threads, swayed gently, pouring densely onto this seemingly cursed land. On the muddy wet ground, messy footprints, like spreading vines, led to the depths of the dark and cold forest, where hazy shadows swallowed up every ray of light and life.

Stepping onto this land, the stench of blood lingers like a ghost, impossible to dispel.

The earth resembled a brutal post-war ruin, with blades and Kunai scattered everywhere, their cold light gleaming in the darkness. Hundreds of ninja corpses lay intertwined, their limbs twisted and their clothes torn.

The tree trunks resembled blood-stained giant pillars, the splattered blood mingling with the rain, the grass soaked by the crimson liquid, shimmering with a chilling red glow.

Obito stood alone outside the forest, his black robe soaked with rainwater, clinging heavily to his body, and raindrops from his hair cascading down, wetting the ground beneath his feet.

His steps were steady and slow as he marched toward the bloody abyss, his face cold and indifferent. The horrific scene around him seemed to him as nothing more than an ordinary sight in the streets and alleys, not enough to stir up even a ripple.

Suddenly, a thunderclap exploded, as if the sky had collapsed. A blinding bolt of lightning ripped through the dark night, instantly illuminating this desolate place before quickly sinking back into darkness. The thunder rumbled, like a thousand horses galloping through the clouds.

Obito paused slightly, his eyelids lifted gently, his gaze piercing through the void, as if piercing through the other side of fate, quietly awaiting the knock of destiny amidst the clamor of the wind and rain.

The stench of blood grew stronger and more pungent with the rolling rain and mist. The surroundings were deathly silent, swallowing all other sounds except for the patter of raindrops, which seemed to mourn the departed souls.

However, life seemed to lurk in the darkness, and the slightest movement was fleeting, like a breeze rustling through leaves, its lightness concealing a sharp edge.

Obito remained motionless, but a strange smile crept onto his lips, a cold arc concealing murderous intent.

In an instant, his arm shot out from beneath his sleeve like lightning, swift as a ghost. In the blink of an eye, a shrill scream echoed from the darkness, tearing through the night sky. The terrified cries mingled with the whistling of the Kunai, like a deadly symphony.

Several figures stumbled out of the dense forest, their clothes tattered and their expressions terrified, like stray dogs.

They staggered, turning back to gaze at the shadows behind them as if facing death itself, their pupils wide with terror, their bodies trembling like cicadas in winter.

At this moment, Obito slowly emerged from the shadows, his eyes flashing with a blood-red light. His eerie Sharingan was like a reflection of blood on the ground, a shocking sight.

But his gaze pierced through the rain, fixing fixedly on Koki. "Why did you abandon me?"

Kakashi's body trembled slightly in the dark corner, dark red bloodstains winding around the corners of his eyes. Each drop of scalding liquid struck his heart, tearing open the long-sealed wounds of the past hidden deep within.

Memories of the past surged into his mind like wild beasts escaping their cages. Those youthful years were like a long-forgotten painting, slowly unfolding before his eyes, its colors faded yet still vivid.

The person I remember is completely different from the weathered and exhausted person I am now.

Back then, her eyes were clear as stars, gazing at the future with hope; but now, those eyes are filled with unspeakable pain, and beneath the familiar outline, her soul seems to have endured countless torments of purgatory, becoming unfamiliar and bewildering.

The shyly smiling boy beside her, his face still clear, was Koki. The smile on his lips, full of youthful vigor and shyness, shone with a warm light in the sunlight.

A bitter smile welled up in Kakashi's heart. The cruel reality had ruthlessly torn apart all the beauty, and the beliefs he held fast to were like a castle built of sand.

Collapsed instantly in the torrent of fate; those struggles of the past, in the face of merciless reality, were like an absurd farce, leaving only exhaustion and despair. He was tired of this endless bitter cycle, like being trapped in a quagmire, the more he struggled, the deeper he sank.

Itachi moved swiftly through the hidden places, his figure as elusive as a ghost. Suddenly, however, it felt as if a sharp weapon had pierced his head. Intense pain spread like an electric shock, Sharingan dimmed instantly. The power that usually obeyed his commands seemed to be bound by invisible chains, losing control. A violent force surged through his body, causing him to stagger.

Immediately afterwards, the world before my eyes was like shattered glass, twisting and deforming wildly. A blood-red halo surged in like a tide, staining everything crimson, and the smell of blood filled my nostrils.

Warm liquid slid down his cheek. The weasel reached out and touched it; the scarlet on his fingertips was shocking and glaring—it was blood.

His heart sank. He raised his eyes, his gaze fixed, his pupils contracting sharply with fear.

In my field of vision, that familiar figure lay silently in a pool of blood, his black hair disheveled and spread across his pale face, like a withered flower, having lost its former luster. His eyes were empty and dull, like two deep, dry wells, devoid of any light.

Blood soaked through his clothes, staining them with shocking red marks. His heart, where it should have been beating, was empty, with only blood gushing out, like the mournful cry of a life-giving fountain about to run dry.

Those slightly parted lips seemed frozen in that final moment, and Itachi seemed to hear that ethereal call, "Itachi..." The voice was both ethereal and real, reaching the deepest part of his soul.

"Brother!" Itachi's body trembled violently, his heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and pain spread to every part of his body. Looking at the once vibrant boy, now lifeless, all the teachings, protection, and sacrifices turned to dust at this moment.

Everything vanished, the world seemed to collapse, leaving only endless regret and sorrow, as if fate had seized them by the throat, plunging them into an abyss from which there was no return.

The soft light of dawn quietly slipped through the gaps in the curtains, gently caressing the Koki bedding.

As if he had suddenly escaped from the edge of hell, Koki let out a heart-wrenching scream, "Ah!" that echoed through the air. His body sprang up from the bed, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving violently, his eyes still lingering with the fear and pain brought on by the dream, a gloom that had seeped into his bones and could not be easily dispelled.

He dreamed of them again.