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As twilight deepened over Konoha, Neji sat cross-legged in his underground lab, his senses stretching outward through the village like an unseen net.
Observation Haki flowed from him in ripples, picking up every shift in chakra, every tremor of movement.
He'd sensed it for days now the unease in the air, the gathering storm no one dared name aloud. The tension curling in the streets. The silent urgency in the glances exchanged by those who knew something was coming.
No one had announced it. There were no warning bells. No formal decree.
But Neji wasn't a fool.
Tonight was the night the Uchiha would fall.
He had suspected it earlier when Sasuke, typically quick to return home after training, was curiously delayed, drawn into errands that scattered his time.
And this morning, Hiashi, a man who rarely meddled in Neji's affairs, had given him a rare and pointed instruction: Return home early tonight. Don't linger.
That had sealed it.
The massacre was about to unfold.
Maybe Hiashi didn't know the details. But he'd been warned gently, perhaps, through the veiled words of the Third Hokage or someone speaking on his behalf.
It was enough.
In the fading light, Neji moved with methodical precision.
One full ANBU uniform: black armored fabric, reinforced gloves, and a cold, inhuman mask.
A second, plain white mask just in case.
A set of empty vials and preservation agents for the Sharingan.
His weapons are carefully prepared and stored in his dimensional inventory.
He slipped into the uniform, fastened the animal mask over his face, and exhaled slowly.
No mistakes tonight.
With a flash of chakra, Neji cast his Transformation Jutsu his height, posture, and aura shifting until he resembled an ordinary ANBU operative, indistinct and unremarkable.
Then came the clones.
These weren't Shadow Clones; they were solid, semi-physical entities, created through a fusion of chakra control and psychic manipulation. They could take hits and bleed if necessary, but unlike Shadow Clones, they couldn't think for themselves.
He didn't need them to think.
He needed them to follow orders.
His Byakugan and Observation Haki gave him full battlefield awareness a god's-eye view.
Perfect for controlling multiple bodies at once.
The clones flickered to life, each one nodding silently to the other before dispersing into the village's darkened veins.
Tonight's objective was clear:
Follow the killers. Pick up the pieces. Harvest the eyes before Danzo's Root agents arrive.
No saving anyone.
No sentimental interference.
Just survival and silent scavenging.
If he could secure at least ten complete sets of Three-Tomoe Sharingan, it would be a victory.
If not, he'd pull out immediately.
No second chances. No heroics.
Neji's jaw tightened behind his mask.
He would not make the same mistakes he once had not again.
The secret hatch to his lab swung open, and in the space of a heartbeat, Neji and his clones melted into the shadows, their forms vanishing without a trace.
---
Meanwhile, in the heart of the Uchiha district, death reigned.
Bodies slumped in doorways. Blood painted the walls.
A pair of crimson eyes, cold, empty, moved from victim to victim without hesitation.
Itachi Uchiha.
The prodigy.
The traitor.
The executioner.
Slaughtering his clan to preserve the fragile peace of the village.
By his side, moving like a ghost, was another figure a masked man whose presence bent the space around him. Untouchable. Unstoppable.
Together, they dismantled the proud Uchiha lineage in a single night.
And trailing carefully behind them, hidden from view, were the scavengers.
Neji's clones.
Silently and efficiently, they moved among the dead.
Not all Uchiha awakened the Three-Tomoe Sharingan. But Neji had prepared for that he had mapped likely candidates in advance through discreet investigations.
Now, he picked the battlefield clean, securing the precious eyes before the bureaucrats and vultures arrived.
Every vial filled was another small victory.
He moved with cold precision, hands practiced from grim necessity.
He had, after all, once plucked out his own eyes.
Efficiency. Speed. Discretion.
That was the rhythm he moved to.
He didn't waste a second on pity.
Didn't pause to mourn the fallen.
This world didn't reward sentiment.
---
He was making good progress, keeping pace with the masked man when the inevitable happened.
A whisper of movement. A sudden sharpness in the air.
A kunai hissed through the night, narrowly missing one of his clones.
Neji froze, eyes narrowing behind his mask.
He hadn't been spotted... had he?
A figure emerged from the shadows ahead.
Young. Slim. Wearing a ninja forehead protector now stained with blood.
Her eyes were alight with fury and fear a perfect, tragic red.
Izumi Uchiha.
He recognized her immediately.
A friend to Sasuke.
A shadow in Itachi's heart.
And here she was, trembling and defiant, standing alone amidst the carnage.
Neji's mind raced.
Izumi wasn't supposed to be here not this deep into the timeline.
In some versions, she died early, quietly. In others, she lingered, only to fall later.
He tucked another sealed vial into his pouch, keeping his movements deliberate and non-threatening.
Izumi didn't attack again.
Instead, she watched him warily, gathering information the way any trained shinobi would.
Her eyes flicked from his pristine uniform, unstained by blood, to the torn corpses around them.
She was smart. She could tell: He wasn't the butcher.
He hadn't killed these people.
Neji slowly backed into the shadows, offering her no reason to escalate.
And Izumi, after a long moment, turned and sprinted toward the police headquarters.
To warn the survivors.
Neji watched her go, heart tightening painfully beneath his armor.
'I'm sorry.'
He could not save her.
Even the small delay he caused likely wouldn't be enough.
If she had fled the district entirely and sought help from the Hokage, perhaps she might have lived.
But trying to rally the Uchiha against their fate?
That was suicide.
'Izumi really was beautiful and innocent' Neji thought grimly, 'but in this world, beauty and innocence rarely survived.'
Neji melted deeper into the dark, positioning himself at the edge of the police station.
Waiting for the massacre to run its course.
There was no other path now.
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[Support with 100 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter]