Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

A cold curve tugged at the corner of Sasuke’s lips—a smile devoid of warmth.

”Even if he can’t,” he said flatly, ”he will. That’s the way I’ve chosen for him… to atone.”

Neji swallowed. He tried to approach it from a technical angle, searching for some flaw—perhaps just trying to rationalize the ”efficiency” behind such madness.

”But… with Orochimaru around, couldn’t he… mass-produce Uchiha children? Through cell cloning or—”

”No.” Sasuke cut him off without hesitation. ”Test subjects are not worthy of bearing the Uchiha name.”

His gaze was sharp as a blade.

”Only children conceived through a mother’s womb and born naturally—descendants who carry the purest blood of the Uchiha Clan—can be considered true Uchiha.”

Neji fell silent.

He imagined Itachi Uchiha—blind, frail, confined to a bed—forced to carry out such a… reproductive task.

A chill shot from his spine to the crown of his head.

”That would kill him…” Neji murmured. Not just from physical exhaustion, but from the complete collapse of the mind. ”Uchiha Itachi… how could he ever agree to this?”

Sasuke’s cold laugh pierced through the courtyard’s surface calm like an icicle shattering glass.

”That,” he said quietly, ”isn’t up to him.”

He looked toward the small house, his expression utterly indifferent.

”Itachi’s body… was already ruined.”

Then his tone shifted, taking on an unsettling sense of control.

”Orochimaru has ’conditioned’ him well. His basic bodily functions are being maintained. When the attendants responsible for ’caring’ for him reach a fertile period… all they need to do is administer a specially prepared drug.”

He spoke as if describing an ordinary agricultural procedure—not the complete destruction of the dignity and freedom of his own brother, once a legendary prodigy of the Uchiha Clan.

Neji remained wordless for a long time.

He looked at the companion he once knew, now both familiar and utterly foreign. He saw the cold obsession in Sasuke’s eyes—the hellish path he had chosen in the name of ”reviving the clan.”

The sunlight was bright. The cries of infants were crisp and clear. The women’s whispers were soft and gentle.

Yet beneath that tranquil façade lay a darkness cold enough to freeze the soul.

At last, all of Neji’s tangled emotions condensed into a heavy sigh—and a single sentence, spoken from the depths of his heart, mixed with shock, incomprehension, and a trace of fear.

”Sasuke…”

”You’re a demon, aren’t you?”

There was no anger in his voice. No accusation.

It was simply the final acknowledgment one makes after staring into the abyss of human distortion.

Sasuke heard him.

He did not react.

He merely stood beneath the false sunlight, watching over the twisted ”rebirth of the Uchiha” he had built with his own hands—founded upon the endless suffering of his closest kin.

To him, this was atonement.

This was revival.

This was the path he had chosen—the embodiment of the vast emptiness and obsession within his heart.

Beyond the heavens, the shinobi world had fallen into deathly silence.

Everyone was shaken to their core by this horrifying ”secret.”

Forcing Itachi Uchiha to father so many children—reviving the clan in this way? Passing on the name of the clan’s destroyer?

In Konoha—

Sasuke clenched his teeth so hard his gums bled. His fingernails dug into his palms until blood trickled down.

He glared at the cold, merciless version of himself displayed in the sky, his body trembling violently from the emotional shock.

It wasn’t anger.

It wasn’t approval.

It was fear—bone-deep fear—and a creeping sense of doubt.

How could he ever become like that?

How could he treat Itachi that way?

…

But if he thought about it…

Wasn’t it actually… not bad?

After all, if he were alone—no matter how strong he became—could that really be called reviving the Uchiha Clan?

The more Sasuke thought about it, the more ”reasonable” it seemed. The more excited he became.

He didn’t notice the way his classmates were looking at him—as if he were some kind of pervert.

Beneath the celestial projection, all manner of reactions emerged.

When confronted with the ”feasibility” of reality and the so-called righteousness of family revival, the boundaries of morality blurred and twisted.

”So… that’s possible?” some viewers muttered after their initial shock faded.

”Sasuke, this is just—” someone attempted a moral condemnation, yet their voice lacked conviction.

”But… if you think about it carefully, it actually seems… workable.”

”In just ten or twenty years, once those children grow up and receive Sasuke’s education and training… that would be an entirely new Uchiha Clan!”

”Exactly! There must be over a dozen infants already—and some women are pregnant. In a few decades, once they branch out and multiply, a massive Uchiha Clan could absolutely rise again in the shinobi world!”

Someone even began calculating potential population growth.

”Honestly… setting aside the methods, Uchiha Sasuke is kind of a ’genius.’ Who would’ve thought of reviving a clan like this?”

”That makes sense now! I was wondering how he planned to revive the Uchiha alone. So this was his plan!”

”How can you revive a clan without clan members? No matter how strong one person is, that’s just a lone commander—not revival!”

”It sounds… questionable, but everything is for the clan.”

”Uchiha Itachi committed a grave sin when he massacred the clan. If he atones by continuing its bloodline this way… isn’t that karmic retribution?”

After the initial shock, many in the shinobi world shifted into a chilling sort of ”understanding.”

In a world where bloodline supremacy and clan legacy were deeply rooted, Sasuke’s method—extreme and stripped of humanity, yet seemingly effective—struck a subconscious chord.

The cruelty of the method became… negotiable in the face of the promising result.

But for the one at the center of it all—

It was nothing short of a death sentence.

Somewhere in the shinobi world—

Itachi Uchiha stared fixedly at the projection.

His Mangekyō Sharingan nearly split apart, crimson eyes trembling violently as they reflected the image of his blind, frail self lying on a bed like a puppet—alongside the infants and women symbolizing endless torment and humiliation.

His already pale face turned deathly white.

His body trembled uncontrollably—not from anger, but from a fear buried deep in his bones.

And despair.

He had always believed that dying at Sasuke’s hands—repaying his sins with his life and bringing this twisted existence to an end—would be the final conclusion.

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