A woman left behind by time and the Uchiha clan

Itachi, Yuki, and Mikoto made their way toward the small house by the creek. The air was cool, the night quiet save for the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of crickets. Mikoto tried to make conversation, but Itachi's silence was a wall that she couldn't breach. She kept casting him sideways glances, feeling the tension rise between them with each step.

"So, Itachi, what exactly are we doing here?" Mikoto asked, her voice strained with irritation.

Yuki, walking beside her, shot her a glance, his expression neutral. Mikoto gave him a frustrated sigh, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Yuki was nothing more than a stranger in the awkward family dynamic. She had witness the power of these two, Itachi's power was easier to justify in her head but Mikoto's was abrupt. She had only known the woman as the matriarch, the wife to the clan head, but yet she too awakened the power of their ancestors. As a fellow kunoichi it was awe inspiring. It made her feel that she too could awaken such power.

Yuki wasn't very skilled in ninja arts, but she wanted to still be respected by the clan when she walked past them. So she became a medic, it was hard as she was never great a studying but with the help of her Sharingan she was able to score passible scores and become a medic. So seeing Mikoto tonight made her think of giving fighting another shot.

But being now next to the woman, she was afraid. Afraid of offending what seemed like nobility in the eyes of the clan. Afraid the two would snap and fight in the middle of the streets, with her in the middle of it.

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Yuki said softly, his voice a contrast to Mikoto's annoyance. "But he's not really a fan of talking much, is he?"

Mikoto shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she turned her attention back to her son. "He's insufferable sometimes."

Just as she was about to let out a sigh, Itachi, without a word, continued to march forward. Mikoto's frustration boiled over.

"Itachi!" she snapped, her voice sharp. "I'm your mother. I've asked you three times now, what is this about?"

Without even turning to look at her, Itachi spoke in his usual low, measured tone. "Not right now, Mikoto. I don't want to repeat myself."

His words hit her like a slap to the face. 'Did he just call me by my first name.' She clenched her fists, anger bubbling in her chest, but Yuki placed a gentle hand on her arm, a silent plea for patience. Mikoto gritted her teeth but said nothing more.

Itachi stood at the threshold of a modest home, one that seemed almost too quiet for its own good. The house sat on the outskirts of the Uchiha compound, nestled between the shadows of trees and the lingering whispers of forgotten memories. The air felt heavy with silence, and for a brief moment, he wondered if even time had forgotten this place.

He had never met her. In fact, he'd only heard her name whispered through the dark corridors of the Uchiha clan's history, buried beneath layers of blood and ambition. Naori Uchiha. The legendary warrior, a woman whose prowess in genjutsu had once been hailed as the best in the clan. Itachi had seen her name in the clan logs, buried in the details of a past long passed over, and wondered why her existence had been so easily ignored. Her legacy had been forgotten, even by the clan that once revered her.

Naori Uchiha was still alive, despite everything. Despite the blind isolation she'd been forced into after the war. Itachi couldn't deny the curiosity gnawing at him, wondering how such a talent, such a legend, had ended up so alone. The logs told him she was still living, though no one had seen her in years. Her name had been erased from conversation, her presence as invisible as the shadows.

He had come here not out of obligation or even kindness. He had come to see for himself. He needed to know if the woman—this ghost of the past—was truly still here, still alive, still breathing. 

But there was something that lingered in his thoughts. Something nagging at him. The Uchiha clan's history was riddled with loss, with bloodshed. Itachi had seen the cycle too many times, had been part of it far too often. The clan had discarded people, leaving them to rot, cast aside as if they were nothing. And now, here was this woman, alone and forgotten, her once-legendary status reduced to a whisper, if that.

Had he killed her? In the original timeline, had he been the one to end her? She had never appeared in his life, never crossed his path. She was a name, a ghost—nothing more. 

He didn't think he had killed her, but the thought lingered in his mind, haunting him. It was strange, how a woman who had once been one of the best in the clan could vanish so completely, as though she had never existed. The shinobi world never seemed to surprise him anymore, not with its cruelty, its disregard for human life, its insatiable hunger for power and conquest.

In this world, people like Naori Uchiha were forgotten, overlooked, discarded. All because she was blind. All because the world had deemed her useless, even after all she had given.

And if she died? If she had died in the past? No one would have noticed. She had been so far removed from the clan's politics, so disconnected from their power plays, that no one would have cared. Not even Fugaku, not even the most prominent members of the Uchiha. Her existence had been a quiet one, and her absence would have gone unnoticed.

"Naori Uchiha," he murmured to himself. "A woman left behind by time and the Uchiha clan."

Itachi did not knock. Instead, he simply walked in, his presence dominating the space the moment he crossed the threshold. The air inside hit them with a pungent stench—something foul and rotten. Mikoto recoiled, covering her nose, while Yuki, though slightly perturbed, kept her composure.

The interior of the house was in disarray. Furniture was broken, scattered across the floor as though someone had taken a violent swing at it. The walls were marked with slashes, crude slogans written in angry, hasty handwriting. "Cut their bastard family balls off and I'll kill you." Mikoto's stomach twisted at the sight, and her mind began to race—what kind of place was this?

But then, her gaze was drawn to a figure standing near the window, bathed in the soft, dim light of the evening. It was a woman, tall, with an air of dignity still clinging to her despite the chaos around her. Naori Uchiha. She wore a sleeveless blue dress that looked almost out of place in the dilapidated room, a sharp contrast to the environment. She stood, facing the night, her back to them, seemingly unmoved by the scene before her.

The woman's head turned as she sensed their presence. Her voice was cutting, harsh. "Who are you? And why are you in my house?"

Itachi, ever calm, stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. "I am Itachi Uchiha, the new clan head."

Naori's expression shifted. She seemed taken aback for a moment, surprised by his words. Her brow furrowed, and she muttered under her breath. "The last clan head I knew was Fugaku Uchiha… and he had a son named Itachi. Has it really been twenty years? Has that much time passed?" She blinked, her eyes narrowing, taking in the sight of the young man in front of her, now realizing the full weight of the situation.

But before any more words could be exchanged, something happened faster than anyone could have anticipated.

With a fluid motion, as though the years of age and blindness had never touched her, Naori leapt forward with terrifying speed. She jumped over the shattered glass on the floor, and in a blur, her sword—once a cane—was drawn and aimed straight at Itachi. The crackle of air from her sudden movement was all that could be heard before the tip of her blade was at his throat.

Itachi barely had time to register her attack before he found himself on his back, Naori straddling his waist, her face a mixture of fury and madness. Her breath was quick and sharp, her body trembling with adrenaline, and her eyes—once cold and calculating—burned with a rage that took Itachi completely off guard.

"I'll kill you, you bastard!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking with emotion as she raised the blade high, ready to end him.

Itachi blinked, surprised by the sheer intensity of her attack, but more so by the complete shift in her demeanor. The calm, composed woman he had expected to find, the legendary genjutsu master, was gone. In her place was a desperate, unhinged fury that had clouded her judgment.

She had completely shattered the image he had of her—a poised, graceful Uchiha warrior—and transformed into something far more terrifying. A yandere.

For a brief moment, Itachi's mind reeled, trying to make sense of the situation. His hand moved instinctively, catching her wrist before she could strike, his fingers gripping her arm with enough force to stop her mid-swing.

But instead of the usual silence, Itachi's voice cut through the tension, calm and cold, as always. "Stop."

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Naori's heart raced, fueled by hatred for the Uchiha family that had left her to rot, and for the betrayal she believed had been her life's curse. Every part of her screamed for vengeance, for some semblance of justice. This new clan head, this young Itachi Uchiha, he was everything she despised—someone who likely knew nothing of her pain, and she would make him pay for that.

The sword in her hand trembled with the weight of her emotions, but the moment she prepared to strike, her focus faltered. Itachi's movements were swift, and before she could react, his hand shot up to stop her blade. 

But what happened next was far beyond anything either of them expected. As Itachi's hand reached for her wrist, his other hand moved instinctively to stop her sword arm—his palm landing squarely against her chest. The touch was accidental, a brief moment of sheer clumsiness, but it froze Naori in place.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she felt his fingers brush against her skin, and her breath hitched. No one had touched her like this in years—not since her grandmother, the only person who had ever treated her with care. She hadn't even realized how desperately she'd longed for it, the sensation of someone else's touch.

Then, to her shock, his grip tightened, and he unintentionally squeezed.

A sudden jolt of heat shot through Naori, and her face flushed a deep crimson. She instinctively recoiled, her body reacting before her mind could process what had just happened. For a moment, the world around her seemed to slow, the sound of her own heartbeat deafening in her ears.

"What are you doing?!" Naori screamed, scrambling off of Itachi with alarming speed. Her sword, still gripped tightly in her hand, was raised as she glared down at him, her voice seething with anger and humiliation. "You... you pervert!"

Itachi blinked, stunned by the sudden shift in the situation. His mind quickly processed what had just occurred, and he immediately began to speak up in his usual, measured tone, trying to defend himself. 

"I'm tired," he said, exasperated, his hand still raised slightly in an attempt to make her understand. "It was a mistake. I wasn't—"

"Weren't what?!" Naori interrupted, her fury only growing. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she took a step back, still holding her blade tightly. "So this is why you came here, huh? To make all the women in the clan your concubine?"

Itachi turned his head toward Mikoto, silently hoping she would help diffuse the situation. She had always been the voice of reason, calm and composed. Surely, she would step in and say something to ease the tension between him and Naori.

However, to his utter shock, Mikoto didn't speak. Instead, she crossed her arms and shot him a sharp look, one that clearly said she was displeased. Then, without a word, she placed her finger over her lips, zipping them shut in a clear gesture of silent defiance. Itachi's brow furrowed as he stared at her, feeling the weight of her disapproval.

She wasn't going to defend him.

The silence between them thickened. Itachi felt a cold knot form in his stomach. It seemed his own mother had chosen to stay out of this one entirely. Her quiet stand, though subtle, made him realize that perhaps he had been too distant, too secretive, and now the consequences were playing out in full. Mikoto always understood him, yet tonight, she refused to speak up.

He sighed inwardly, his gaze shifting to Yuki next, the nurse he had brought along to help. She was a quiet presence in the room, someone who could easily stay neutral. But Itachi's heart sank even further when Yuki, noticing the silence and tension, spoke up unexpectedly.

"Clan Head Itachi... he's not a bad guy," Yuki said, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, though her tone was warm. "He treats me well. It's... it's not so bad if I became his wife, right?"

Naori's eyes snapped to Yuki, and the last vestiges of doubt disappeared as the words hung in the air. Itachi blinked, horrified by the way Yuki had phrased it. The moment the words escaped her lips, Naori's suspicions were confirmed: all of the women in the clan were becoming concubines.

"Yuki—!" Itachi began, but it was too late. Yuki, now realizing what she had just said, looked mortified, her face going redder than before. She looked back at Naori, apologizing under her breath, but the damage was already done.

Naori's expression turned bitter, her grip on her blade tightening once again, and her voice was icy as she spoke. "So that's it, huh? All of you are just another one of his playthings. The great Uchiha Clan Head, gathering women like trophies."

Itachi could only stand there, utterly dumbfounded. Mikoto's silence, Yuki's poorly chosen words—it seemed that everything was slipping further out of his control.

What had he gotten himself into?