Five years before the night the Uchiha name would be drowned in blood, Konoha still called itself peaceful.
The Hokage Monument stood tall.
The Academy taught children about the Will of Fire.
And in the Uchiha district, pride burned brighter than suspicion.
On the training grounds, fire lit the evening sky.
"Again."
A young Uchiha boy stepped forward, hands forming seals with sharp precision.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
Flames roared across the field. Heat distorted the air. Clan members watched with approval.
Strong chakra.
Strong bloodline.
Strong future.
That was what mattered.
At the edge of the field, elders spoke quietly.
"The council grows wary," one muttered.
"Let them," another replied coldly. "The Uchiha bow to no one."
Confidence filled their voices.
But not their eyes.
Because tension had already begun to coil around the clan like an unseen snake.
Far from the applause and firelight—
There was only rain.
Mud.
And a boy pressed face-down into the dirt.
"Get up."
A boot drove into his ribs.
Something cracked.
Uchiha Ren tasted blood.
He didn't scream.
Another kick struck his back.
Laughter followed.
"You walk around like you're better than us," one of the older boys sneered. "Clan pride, huh?"
Ren slowly pushed himself onto his elbows.
Rain slid down his hair and into his eyes.
"I didn't say anything," he replied quietly.
That answer earned him a fist across the jaw.
His vision flashed white.
At the entrance of the alley, a shadow stood motionless.
Masked.
Watching.
Ren noticed.
The others didn't.
This wasn't random bullying.
It was a message.
Stand out, and you'll be reminded where you belong.
The masked shinobi stepped forward slightly once the boys backed away.
No emotion.
No visible hatred.
Just authority.
"You've been attracting attention," the masked man said calmly.
Ren looked up at him.
"Then stop looking at me."
The silence that followed was heavier than the rain.
For a brief moment, the masked figure studied him.
Then turned away.
"Children who stand out," he said as he vanished into shadow, "tend to disappear."
The message was clear.
Ren was left alone in the mud.
Rain soaked into his clothes.
His ribs burned.
His lip throbbed.
In the distance, cheers rose from the training grounds.
Another prodigy had impressed the elders.
Ren let out a quiet breath.
"They want me small."
He forced himself to his feet.
"I won't kneel."
The rain intensified.
Thunder rolled above.
Ren turned away from the district and walked toward the forest.
Each step hurt.
Each breath scraped against broken ribs.
But pain was better than submission.
He crossed the tree line.
The storm swallowed him.
The ground beneath his feet suddenly shifted.
He didn't react fast enough.
The earth collapsed.
Stone and mud gave way.
Ren fell into darkness.
When he landed, the world was silent.
No rain.
No thunder.
Only an underground chamber carved in ancient stone.
Seals lined the walls.
Not Uchiha script.
Not village standard.
Older.
At the center stood a pedestal.
On it—
A white fruit marked with swirling patterns.
It pulsed faintly.
Ren stared.
Then—
His heartbeat changed.
Doom.
The chamber trembled.
Doom.
The seals flickered as if reacting to him.
Ren stepped closer.
Blood dripped from his split lip—
And landed on the fruit.
The rhythm grew louder.
DOOM.
It wasn't thunder.
It wasn't imagination.
It was inside him.
The fruit felt warm in his hand.
Alive.
Hungry.
He didn't hesitate.
If the world wanted him to kneel—
He would become something it couldn't control.
His teeth sank into the fruit.
The taste was unbearable.
Rotten.
Burning.
Wrong.
He swallowed anyway.
Pain exploded through his body.
Bones stretched.
Muscles twisted.
His skin felt like it was being pulled from within.
His heartbeat thundered.
DOOM. DOOM. DOOM.
And somewhere deep inside the darkness—
Something laughed.
Ren collapsed.
…
When he opened his eyes, the chamber was still.
The pedestal was empty.
The seals had faded.
He slowly pushed himself upright.
His ribs still hurt.
His lip still stung.
But something was different.
He placed his hand against the stone wall to steady himself—
His arm stretched.
Longer than it should.
Elastic.
Impossible.
Ren pulled it back.
No blood.
No wound.
He flexed his fingers.
Normal.
He touched his chest.
His heart beat steadily.
But beneath it—
The drums continued.
Slow.
Patient.
Waiting.
Above ground, Konoha still believed it controlled destiny.
Ren looked toward the tunnel leading upward.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"They wanted me to kneel."
The drums answered.
And five years before the massacre—
History quietly