The Night Everything Changed

(Yuna's POV) 

The morning sun hadn't risen when I slipped out of bed. My feet found the cold wooden floor as I changed into training clothes. Down the hall, Sasuke's door creaked open.

"Ready?" I whispered.

He nodded, dark eyes reflecting determination. We made our way to the training grounds behind our house, the grass still wet with dew.

"Let's work on the fireball jutsu." Sasuke took his stance. "Father will want to see it."

My hands formed the seals - Snake, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger. The chakra built in my chest, but when I released it, the flame sputtered smaller than Sasuke's. Again. Always smaller.

"Your chakra control needs work." Father's voice cut through the morning air. I hadn't heard him approach. "Sasuke, show her again."

My brother's fireball blazed across the training ground, perfectly formed. Father nodded in approval.

"Better. Though still not at Itachi's level at your age."

The praise died in Sasuke's eyes. I clenched my fists, pushing down the familiar ache. No matter what we achieved, it never measured up to our older brother.

"I'll keep practicing," I said.

Father barely glanced my way. "See that you do. Sasuke, come with me. I want to show you a new technique."

They left me alone in the yard. I kicked at the ground, then forced myself through the hand seals again. And again. Until sweat dripped down my face.

Later, walking through the Uchiha district to get water, I passed groups of clansmen huddled in doorways. Their voices dropped when I came near. Something felt off - the usual proud bearing of our clan members replaced by tense shoulders and wary eyes.

"...can't trust the village..."

"...Fugaku-sama said..."

"...preparations must be..."

The fragments of whispered conversations followed me down the street. Even the shopkeepers seemed distracted, their greetings halfhearted. I hurried home, the weight of unspoken words pressing against my chest.

The dinner table grew quieter each night. Mother's smile didn't reach her eyes anymore when she served the rice. Father's face stayed buried in scrolls, his chopsticks moving mechanically between bowl and mouth.

"Where's brother?" Sasuke asked.

"ANBU duties." Father's tone cut off further questions.

I picked at my food, watching Mother and Father exchange another loaded glance. These silent conversations happened more often now - a raised eyebrow, a slight head shake, a frown. They thought we didn't notice.

"May I help clean up?" I offered after dinner.

"No need." Mother's hand pressed my shoulder. "Go study with your brother."

But when I lingered by the kitchen door, their voices dropped to urgent whispers.

"The elders won't listen-"

"Fugaku, please-"

"Enough." Father's chair scraped back. I darted away before he could catch me eavesdropping.

The next morning, I spotted Itachi in the compound courtyard. "Brother! Will you help me with shuriken practice?"

His eyes slid past mine. Dark circles marked the skin beneath them, deeper than I remembered. "Another time, Yuna."

"You said that last week. And the week before."

"I'm busy." He turned away, shoulders rigid under his ANBU armor.

"You're always busy now." The words burst out before I could stop them. "You barely speak to us anymore. You look tired all the time. What's wrong?"

For a moment, something cracked in his expression - pain or grief or both. Then his face smoothed blank again. "Nothing you need concern yourself with."

I watched him walk away, his steps heavy despite his silent ninja grace. The brother who used to carry me on his shoulders, who taught me my first jutsu, who always had time for one more training session - he felt like a stranger now.

That night, I lay awake listening to more whispered arguments drift up from Father's study. The tension in the compound pressed down like storm clouds gathering. Something was coming. I just didn't know what.

The silence jolted me awake. Living in the Uchiha district meant constant background noise - guards patrolling, shopkeepers preparing for morning, clan members returning from missions. But now? Nothing.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I slid from bed. The wooden floor felt ice-cold under my feet. Through my window, moonlight cast strange shadows across empty streets. No lanterns burned in the guard posts.

Where were the night patrols?

A flicker of movement caught my eye - a dark shape leaping between rooftops. Too fast, too fluid to be one of our regular sentries. My breath caught in my throat.

"Sasuke," I whispered.

The air felt wrong - heavy and thick with something I couldn't name. My hands trembled as I eased my door open. The hallway stretched before me, darker than I'd ever seen it.

I crept toward Sasuke's room, keeping close to the wall. Each step made the floorboards creak despite my careful movements. The wrongness grew stronger, pressing against my skin like a physical weight.

His door stood slightly ajar. My fingers brushed the wood.

"Sasuke?" My voice came out barely above a breath. "Are you-"

A thud from somewhere in the compound cut me off. Then another. My heart stuttered.

The hallway stretched endless before me. Blood. The metallic scent hit my nose before I saw it - dark streaks across the wooden floor leading toward the compound center. My legs moved on their own, following the trail.

The first body lay crumpled by the bakery where I bought dango yesterday. Uchiha Mei - she always saved the sweetest ones for me. Her eyes stared unseeing at the moon.

More bodies. Uncle Teyaki outside his senbei shop. Two cousins by the shrine steps. Each face I recognized twisted something deeper in my chest until I couldn't breathe.

My feet carried me faster, stumbling over scattered weapons and fallen lanterns. The main house loomed ahead - our house. The front door gaped open, spilling lamplight across the courtyard.

"Mother? Father?" My voice cracked.

Silence answered.

The entry hall stretched dark and wrong. Family photos hung crooked on the walls. Father's sandals lay scattered instead of neatly lined up. Mother's favorite vase lay shattered, flowers strewn across the floor.

"Please..." I whispered to no one.

My legs shook as I forced them forward. Past the kitchen where we ate dinner hours ago. Past the study where Father worked late into the night. Toward the sitting room where light spilled under the door.

The sliding door stuck. I pushed harder, wood scraping against wood until it gave way.

They lay facing each other in the center of the room. Mother's hand stretched toward Father as if reaching for him in their final moments. Blood pooled beneath them, soaking into the tatami mats.

My knees hit the floor. A sound tore from my throat - something between a scream and a sob. But no tears came. Just a hollow emptiness that swallowed everything else.

"Mother..." My fingers brushed her cooling cheek. "Father..."

Their blood stained my hands red as I knelt between them, unable to look away from their peaceful faces. As if they'd simply fallen asleep together.

But the slash marks across their throats told a different story.

Sasuke's scream shattered the silence. My body moved before my mind could process, stumbling through blood-stained halls toward his voice.

I rounded the corner and froze. Itachi stood in the doorway, his ANBU blade dripping red. Sasuke knelt before him, trembling.

This couldn't be real. My brother - who taught me to throw kunai, who carried me home when I scraped my knee, who smiled at my clumsy attempts at the fireball jutsu - stood bathed in our parents' blood.

"Brother..." The word caught in my throat.

His Sharingan eyes met mine, cold and empty. No trace remained of the gentle gaze that once watched over my training.

"Why?" Sasuke's voice cracked. "Why did you do this?"

"To test my capacity." Itachi's words cut like ice. "You two... you're not even worth killing. Weak, pathetic... you lack hatred."

My legs gave out. I collapsed next to Sasuke, mind refusing to accept what my eyes saw. The brother who protected us, who praised our small victories, who promised to always watch over us - he'd murdered everyone.

"You're lying." Sasuke pushed himself up. "This isn't you! Tell us why!"

Itachi's expression didn't change. "Foolish little brother. Foolish little sister. Cling to your weak bonds, your meaningless existence. If you wish to kill me one day... foster your hatred. Despise me. Survive in an unsightly way."

Blood roared in my ears. The world spun sideways as his Sharingan pattern shifted. Images flashed before my eyes - Mother and Father falling, aunts and uncles cut down, cousins screaming. Over and over and over.

The images slammed into my mind like physical blows. Mother reaching for Father. The sword falling. Blood spreading across tatami mats. Again. And again. Each time felt more real than the last.

"Stop..." My voice came out broken, distant. But the visions continued.

Mother's final gasp. Father's eyes going dim. The metallic scent of blood filling my nose. Itachi's blade gleaming in lamplight. The sounds of steel cutting flesh. Their bodies crumpling.

My skull felt like it would split open. Every nerve screamed in protest as the scenes repeated, each cycle driving deeper into my consciousness. I couldn't tell what was memory and what was genjutsu anymore. Past and present blurred together in an endless loop of horror.

Beside me, Sasuke's screams echoed my own. Or maybe I only imagined them. Reality fractured and splintered, leaving nothing solid to grab onto.

"Please..." The word tore from my throat. "Brother..."

But Itachi's Sharingan eyes showed no mercy. The torture continued - every detail crystal clear, every sensation magnified. I felt the warmth leaving their bodies. Saw the light fade from their eyes. Watched their blood seep between the floorboards.

Something in my mind started to crack. The edges of my consciousness frayed and unraveled. Too much. It was too much.

When the genjutsu finally released its hold, I collapsed face-first onto the wooden floor. My lungs burned as I gasped for air, fingers clawing at the ground. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

The room spun around me. My stomach heaved, but nothing came up. Every breath felt like inhaling glass shards.

My arms trembled as I dragged myself across the blood-stained floor. "Brother... please..."

Each movement sent waves of agony through my skull, aftershocks from his genjutsu still pulsing behind my eyes. But I forced my body forward, reaching for the hem of his cloak.

"Tell us why. The real reason." My fingers brushed the fabric. "We're your family..."

Itachi stepped over me like I was nothing more than a broken doll. His footsteps didn't make a sound, yet each one echoed in my chest like thunder.

I lifted my head, vision swimming. The world looked different - sharper, clearer, tinged with a red haze. In the shadows of his face, I caught my reflection in a fallen picture frame. Red eyes stared back at me, black tomoe spinning slowly.

Sharingan. My heart clenched. The price of awakening our clan's power was watching everyone we loved die.

"Foolish siblings." Itachi's voice held no warmth. "Let your hatred fuel you. Grow stronger. When you have these eyes..." He touched the corner of his own Sharingan. "Come find me. If you dare."

"Don't leave." Sasuke's whisper cracked. "Please..."

But Itachi was already turning away. His form blurred, melting into the shadows. One final glance back - and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression. Pain? Regret?

Then he vanished, leaving only the cold night air and the copper smell of blood.

Don't leave, you don't just get to walk away from this I yell slowly starting to feel my limbs go numb and passing out 

Harsh white light stabbed my eyes as they fluttered open. The hospital ceiling swam into focus, sterile and unfamiliar. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, memories cutting through the fog like broken glass.

Mother's reaching hand. Father's final breath. Itachi's cold eyes.

I tried to sit up, but my muscles refused to cooperate. Even breathing hurt, like someone had hollowed out my chest and filled it with lead.

"Sasuke?" My voice came out raw, barely above a whisper.

A nurse appeared, adjusting something on the IV drip beside my bed. "Your brother's in the next room. He hasn't woken yet."

Footsteps approached - heavy, purposeful. The Third Hokage entered, his weathered face grave beneath the ceremonial hat.

"Yuna." He pulled a chair closer. "I'm sorry we meet under these circumstances."

"Where's Itachi?" The name burned my throat.

The Hokage's expression tightened. "He's left the village. After what happened... he's been classified as a rogue ninja."

"The clan..."

"There were no other survivors." His words fell like stones. "You and Sasuke are the last of the Uchiha."

The truth hit harder than Itachi's genjutsu. My fingers clutched the hospital blanket until my knuckles went white. The proud Uchiha clan - centuries of history, tradition, power - reduced to two broken children in hospital beds.

"Why?" The question clawed its way out. "Why did he...?"

"We don't know yet." The Hokage's voice softened. "Rest now. There will be time for questions later."

But rest wouldn't come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them falling. Every shadow held Itachi's silhouette. Every breath tasted like blood.

The emptiness spread through my chest, cold and absolute. No more morning training with Father. No more quiet talks with Mother over tea. No more clan meetings or festival celebrations or proud Uchiha banners flying over the compound.

Just silence. Just loss. Just the hollow space where my heart used to be.

The kunai hit dead center - again. Sweat dripped down my face as I reached for another. The training ground lay scattered with weapons, each throw precise, calculated, perfect. But not enough. Never enough.

"You've been here since dawn." Kazumi's voice broke my concentration. The next kunai struck slightly off-center.

I didn't turn around. "What do you want?"

"Hinata and I are getting ramen. Come with us?"

Four years ago, I would have smiled, teased her about paying. Now the thought of casual conversation felt like sandpaper on raw skin.

"Can't. Training."

"You're always training." She stepped closer, that familiar cocky grin faltering. "When's the last time you took a break?"

My shoulders tensed. "Breaks won't help me find him."

The words hung between us, sharp and cold. Kazumi flinched but didn't back down. Typical.

"He wouldn't want-"

"Don't." My voice cracked. "Don't tell me what they would want. They're dead. Because I was too weak to stop it."

The morning sun caught my next throw, metal flashing as it split the previous kunai in two. My Sharingan spun, recording every detail, every minute adjustment needed for more power, more precision.

"You're not alone, you know." Kazumi's hand reached for my shoulder. I stepped away.

"I know." The words tasted like ash. "But I need to be."

She lingered a moment longer, concern written across her face. Once, her friendship had been a warm light in my life. Now it felt like one more weakness I couldn't afford.

"Just... don't forget we're here. When you're ready."

I nodded stiffly, already reaching for another kunai. Her footsteps faded, leaving me alone with my targets and the ghost of who I used to be.

I watched Sasuke from across the training ground, his movements sharp and precise. Gone was the brother who used to smile, who'd race me to the academy. In his place stood someone harder, colder - a mirror of my own transformation.

"Again," he muttered, his hands flashing through signs. The fireball jutsu erupted, larger than before, scorching the practice targets.

My fingers traced the edge of my kunai. We'd both changed since that night. While I drowned in questions, Sasuke burned with certainty. His path was clear - revenge, power, whatever it took to destroy Itachi.

"Your form is getting better." The words felt hollow, but I offered them anyway. These days, our conversations rarely went beyond training critiques.

He didn't respond, just launched into another set of katas. I recognized the sequence - Father had taught us both. The memory stung.

"Do you ever wonder why?" I asked softly. "Why he really did it?"

Sasuke's movements faltered for a split second. "It doesn't matter why. He needs to pay."

But it did matter - at least to me. The brother who carried us on his shoulders, who praised our small victories... something didn't add up. The official story felt wrong, like a genjutsu hiding deeper truths.

"And after?" I pressed. "What then?"

His eyes met mine. "There is no after. Only this."

I looked away first. We shared the same pain, the same loss, but our responses couldn't be more different. Sasuke's path was straight as an arrow - all rage and revenge. Mine felt murkier, tangled with doubts and questions that wouldn't let go.

The truth was out there, buried under layers of village secrets and half-told stories. I could feel it pulling at me, a different kind of fire than Sasuke's vengeful flame. Maybe that's what I needed - not just strength to fight, but strength to uncover what really happened that night.