Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

”And you, Brother…” Hamura’s voice lowered slightly, steady but heavy. ”Have you perhaps reached a point where you can no longer hear any opinion that contradicts your ideals?”

”You think Mother is extreme and arrogant—so you cannot accept her words.”

”And my words now—you think I simply ’don’t understand you,’ that I’m ’taking Mother’s side.’ Isn’t that so?”

He stepped forward, locking his gaze onto Hagoromo’s stunned expression.

”Brother, while you accuse Mother of arrogance toward the outside world… have you considered whether, inwardly—toward your own family, toward the other side of reality—you may be displaying something even greater?”

”A belief that only your path is correct. A refusal to accept any other possibility.”

”So, Brother… perhaps you should take a careful look at yourself.”

”You are the one who is truly extreme. Truly arrogant.”

Hagoromo froze completely. The color drained from his face.

It was as if, for the first time, he truly saw his younger brother.

And as if, for the first time, someone had held up a mirror to the blind spots and paradoxes within his ideals.

Hamura’s words carried no anger.

Yet they reflected, with merciless clarity, the stubbornness and self-centered certainty hidden beneath Hagoromo’s passionate convictions.

The world seemed to spin around him.

He had always believed he pursued light, communication, and understanding—that he stood against his mother’s cold rigidity.

But Hamura’s questioning forced him into an uncomfortable realization.

If, in seeking to ”understand others,” he refused to understand the fundamental logic of his mother’s position…

If he could not hear his brother’s calm reasoning from another perspective…

Then had his pursuit of ”understanding” already fallen into another form of misunderstanding—another kind of closed-mindedness?

Was the arrogance he opposed merely reflected back at him in a different shape?

The brothers stood in silence.

In the distance, faint thunder echoed—the explosive release of chakra and distant cries.

Kaguya had begun to ”deal with” the rebellion.

And here, between the twins, a different storm—one of philosophy, perception, and self-reflection—had just begun.

For the first time, the unwavering resolve in Hagoromo’s eyes faltered.

Itachi Uchiha

Itachi Uchiha stood alone in the shadow of a rock.

The light of the Heavenly Curtain illuminated his gaunt yet still handsome profile—and revealed the deep, inescapable pain within his eyes.

”Arrogance… is it?”

He murmured almost soundlessly.

Hamura’s rebuke to Hagoromo pierced him like the sharpest kunai, striking a heart already riddled with scars.

Those words were spoken about the Sage of Six Paths and his brother a thousand years ago.

Yet to Itachi, they sounded like judgment passed upon himself.

”You say Mother is extreme. Are you not extreme as well?”

”You say Mother is arrogant, unwilling to listen… but Brother, you cannot even hear Mother or me.”

The words overlapped with a voice that had long echoed in the depths of Itachi’s soul:

The arrogant Uchiha Clan has no need to exist.

That thought had once been his unshakable creed.

Under its weight, every grievance of the Uchiha Clan, every attempt at protest, every plea for dialogue—became proof of arrogance. A prelude to rebellion. An inevitability.

And no matter how suspicious, manipulative, or oppressive the higher-ups of Konohagakure were—

In his eyes, it was ”necessary stability.”

”Preventive measures.”

”Sacrifice for the greater good.”

Itachi had cast himself as the one who saw the future clearly.

The one who bore sin.

The wise man who chose righteousness.

He placed himself upon a lonely pedestal of judgment—looking down upon his clan’s ”narrowness,” and even upon Konoha’s ”complexity.”

He did not hear his father, Fugaku Uchiha, speaking with exhaustion and conflict during clan meetings.

He did not hear the simmering resentment of his clansmen toward injustice.

He did not hear their longing for peaceful lives.

Nor did he hear the innocent trust in Sasuke’s eyes—the quiet hope for family warmth.

What he heard was only the cold echo within himself:

The Uchiha are wrong. They are doomed. They are arrogant.

”So… the arrogant one… was me.”

Itachi slowly closed his eyes.

A trace of bitterness and regret slipped through the calm mask he always wore.

”I was the most arrogant one in the Uchiha Clan.”

Since leaving Konohagakure and traveling the shinobi world, he had witnessed countless villages and conflicts—realities far more complex than black and white.

Combined with the Heavenly Curtain’s relentless revelations—exposing the shadows of Konoha’s leadership, the Uchiha Clan’s desperation, and the devastating consequences his ”noble sacrifice” would inflict upon Sasuke—

Each truth was a key.

One by one, they pried open the fortress of his once rigid heart.

He was forced to listen.

Forced to see perspectives he had deliberately rejected.

And now, watching Hagoromo on the Heavenly Curtain—

A young man clutching what he believed to be absolute righteousness, yet failing to truly understand the other side…

Even refusing the counsel of those closest to him—

Itachi felt as though struck by lightning.

He saw clearly, at last, the abyss within his own soul named arrogance.

How terrifying the mirror was.

How cruel the parallel.

Itachi slowly opened his eyes.

Those once-mysterious eyes empowered by the Mangekyō Sharingan now held only exhaustion—and hollow sorrow.

He looked up at the young Hagoromo on the Heavenly Curtain, shaken by his brother’s challenge.

It was as if he were looking at another soul—one that might also shape tragedy under the weight of its own conviction.

Softly, barely audible, Itachi whispered:

”So… Sage of Six Paths…”

”When you saw the return of war… when you saw that chakra brought not only strength but endless conflict…”

”Did you regret it?”

”Regret that unwavering belief—that ’understanding could solve everything’—while failing to truly understand your mother… and humanity?”

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