Chapter 1
"Is this what ninja wars look like?"
A small figure stood on the edge of the cliff. Short black hair, large black eyes, black clothes, black pants, black boots, and a black ninja pouch strapped to the outside of his thigh. The only things that stood out were his smooth, fair skin and the red-and-white fan emblem on the back of his shirt. Everything else was pitch black.
He stared down at the battlefield with indifferent eyes. The ninjas below fought like blood-crazed beasts. Without the headbands to tell which village or alliance they belonged to, they killed anyone in sight.
No one knew how long the battle had lasted. The ground was littered with corpses and body parts. The earth had turned a dark red from all the blood. Countless kunai lay scattered everywhere, and swords coated in blood stood upright, stabbed into the bodies.
The retreat signal was sounded. Once again, Konoha emerged victorious.
But nearly half the corpses on the battlefield belonged to Konoha shinobi. This was the cruel reality of victory — it was built on piles of corpses and rivers of fresh blood.
"Itachi, what do you think?"
The small hand rose, pointing at the pile of bodies. A soft, childish voice said, "These people are so sloppy. There are still quite a few survivors down there. Someone needs to finish them off, or Konoha will lose out once they get healed and sent back."
"Uh…" The figure standing behind Itachi froze for a moment. What the hell? He coughed twice, then asked seriously, "I wasn't asking about them. I'm asking what you think about this war."
"No thoughts. Just fight if you want to fight."
Itachi turned his head and flashed an innocent, angelic smile.
What is this kid playing at? The man thought. He had brought Itachi here because of his excellent talent and hard work, hoping to broaden his horizons. But it seemed he had overestimated the boy. After all, he was still just a child. Even in wartime, this was too much for someone his age.
Of course Itachi had thoughts…
He ignored the man behind him and turned his small face back toward the battlefield. As a top-tier youth from the 21st century, how could he not understand how dangerous the world was? In his previous life, people hid their ugly sides until the moment they could stab you in the back.
But in this world, the word "hide" didn't exist. Ugly intentions were worn openly on people's faces. Whether in the open or in the shadows, if they targeted you, they never held back.
War? Fighting for peace?
How ridiculous. If you truly wanted peace, you wouldn't fight at all. Resources are the real goal. They just wrapped it up with a nice-sounding word. Peace? It's the biggest lie I've ever heard.
Luckily, none of this has anything to do with me. As long as it doesn't touch my interests, you can fight however you want. It won't hurt me anyway. I can just sit back and enjoy the show… That's the real pleasure.
The person behind him stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Itachi's shoulder, speaking earnestly, "Itachi, as members of the Uchiha clan, we must maintain our proper wisdom. Otherwise, this vast battlefield could one day become the Uchiha clan's graveyard. We are part of the village, yes, but we are first and foremost the hope of the Uchiha. When it comes to clan interests, the village naturally comes second. I know you're very smart, but I hope your intelligence serves the Uchiha, not the village."
"Got it, Fugaku kid!"
A cheeky grin spread across Itachi's lips. That's right — this was the real him, Uchiha Itachi!
Bam!
A large bump instantly appeared on top of Uchiha Itachi's head. The producer of that bump was none other than his biological father in this body — Uchiha Fugaku.
Fugaku's forehead veins bulged. He clenched his fist, glaring at Itachi as he growled angrily, "Itachi, you're getting more and more outrageous! Do you no longer respect me as your father?"
"Oh? You finally noticed?" Itachi rolled his eyes and rubbed the bump calmly.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
I am not a bump delivery man. I am the bump manufacturer. I am Uchiha Fugaku, and I endorse my own fists.
...
Seeing that his unrepentant son still refused to yield, Uchiha Fugaku could only swallow his anger. No matter how many times he hit him, this stubborn kid wouldn't soften. With his arms crossed over his chest and a frustrated expression, he turned to leave.
The pain on top of his head still hadn't faded. Itachi glared at Fugaku's back, reached into his ninja pouch, and pulled out dozens of kunai. With a swift, silent motion, he threw them all at once.
Puff! Puff! Puff!
Bloody flowers bloomed as the kunai struck home.
Fugaku's pupils widened slightly, his eyes turning blood-red with three tomoe Sharingan. He stared at Itachi's actions, his mouth curving downward into a serious expression as he lowered his hands.
But after a few seconds, Fugaku withdrew his gaze and a proud smile appeared on his face. He shook his head helplessly. He already has the courage to kill? What can I say… He really is my son.
Down on the battlefield, dozens of enemy ninjas who still had a breath of life left were all hit by the kunai — each one a clean, fatal strike with no wasted movement.
Itachi wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and let out a sigh of relief. For a body that was only three or four years old, that high-intensity operation was still a bit too much. There was definitely room for improvement.
Blood-red pupils appeared in his eyes — each one containing a single tomoe.
Killing? He had been mentally preparing himself for this since the moment he was born in this world. Either others die by your hand, or you die by theirs. Four years of mental conditioning hadn't been for nothing.
A cheeky grin returned to his lips. The blood-red Sharingan faded back into deep black eyes. Itachi seemed to have already forgotten the pain on his head as he shouted toward Fugaku's back:
"Hey, Fugaku kid, hurry up! Your grandpa here is getting old and can't walk fast!"
As expected, Uchiha Fugaku exploded again. He spun around, fist raised, and chased after Itachi at full speed. Itachi's grin turned even more mocking.
Under the setting sun, a large figure and a small one ran out from the battlefield.
If anyone had seen this scene, they might have sighed and said: Ah, I remember when we used to chase our lost youth under the sunset…