The agony where reality and illusion overlapped exploded with violent intensity!
On the hospital bed, Shisui's body arched sharply, as if struck by a high-voltage current. From the depths of his throat, an oppressed cry erupted—the sound of a dying beast. The gauze covering his eyes was instantly soaked by a surge of blood mixed with tears, blossoming into two stark, dark red stains.
His temples felt ready to burst; his eyeballs felt as if they were being stirred by a thousand red-hot steel needles. The pain went bone-deep, reaching into his very soul.
The crimson hell of the genocide in the illusion and the tearing pain of the transplant in reality clashed violently within his fragile visual cortex.
Buzz—!
It was as if an invisible shackle had been forcibly shattered by a berserk power. A cold, violent, and destructive ocular force—like a beast escaping its cage—suddenly awakened in his eyes!
His blurred vision became hyper-clear, allowing him to "see" through the gauze. He perceived the flow of cold air in the room, the flickering lights of the monitors, and...
The dark figure standing silently at the doorway.
Shisui's gaze locked onto the figure through the bandages: the familiar black robe, the broad white fur collar on the shoulders, and that iconic, heartless white three-eyed fox mask.
Shura!
The moment Shisui "saw" him, the sound of rhythmic, mocking applause broke the silence of the room.
Clap... clap... clap...
Shura leaned against the cold metal doorframe, clapping slowly. Behind the mask, his gaze focused on Shisui's blood-soaked bandages as if admiring a masterpiece.
"Exquisite," Shura's voice echoed, low and magnetic. "As expected of the strongest Uchiha in Konoha. Under such stimulus, you've forced those single-tomoe clones to evolve directly into three-tomoe Sharingan."
"That talent, that will... tsk. No wonder that old fox Danzō coveted your eyes so much, treating them like treasure while fearing them like vipers."
His tone carried blatant admiration, yet it was laced with a cruel omniscience.
Shisui panted heavily, his chest heaving. Each breath tugged at the nerves in his eyes; the three-tomoe Sharingan beneath the gauze were spinning uncontrollably, their violent chakra nearly overflowing.
"That... that illusion just now..." Shisui's voice was as raspy as sandpaper, tasting of iron. "What was it?! What did you do to me?!"
His question was a mixture of shock, rage, and the lingering terror of the genocide he had just witnessed.
Shura lowered his hands. "Nothing much. Just letting you see an advance screening... of the final script the Konoha higher-ups have painstakingly written for the Uchiha clan."
His voice turned as cold as a winter gale. "A 'Final Solution' to erase a threat once and for all."
"Nonsense!!" Shisui gripped the bedsheets, his knuckles white. The bloodstains on the gauze deepened. The memory of the Third Hokage's kind face and Itachi's clear, steadfast eyes flashed in his mind. He couldn't—wouldn't—believe it.
"Lord Third would never allow it! And Itachi... how could Itachi ever do such a thing?! You're trying to drive a wedge between us with this vile illusion! This is your conspiracy!"
"Conspiracy? Hmph." Shura let out a low, ironic laugh that bounced off the cold walls. He tilted his head slightly. "Was it my conspiracy when Danzō gouged out your eye?"
"Was the chaos of the Nine-Tails' Night my arrangement?"
"Oh, I forgot to introduce him. That masked man in the illusion—the one with the tiger-stripe mask? He's the true culprit behind the Nine-Tails' attack. A wanderer who harbors a profound hatred for the Uchiha."
Shisui's pupils trembled. The culprit of the Nine-Tails' Night? Another Mangekyō user? How does Shura know all this?
Shura took a step forward, his black robes gliding silently over the floor. A heavy, suffocating pressure enveloped the bed.
The illusion Shura had crafted using the Book of the Vermilion Moon contained specific "leaks": Danzō bypassing the Hokage to order Itachi to act; Itachi seeking help from the mysterious "Madara" (Obito); and the cold reality that the village elders watched it happen.
"The Konoha you protect has long viewed the Uchiha as a tumor that must be excised," Shura said, his voice a cruel purr. "The Third Hokage you trust is indecisive, repeatedly permitting Danzō's filth. And your dear friend, Itachi Uchiha..."
Shura paused for dramatic effect. "He chose the village. He chose 'The Greater Good.' To that end, he raised his blade himself. Over a thousand Uchiha lives, including the parents who raised him, became obstacles he had to clear to 'save' Konoha."
"Oh, he might leave a young Sasuke alive, as an 'anchor' to keep himself living through hatred."
Each word was like a red-hot, blunt knife carving into Shisui's bleeding heart. The blood-soaked details of the illusion—Itachi's hollow eyes, Fugaku's submissive death, the cold surveillance of the Anbu outside the walls—all of it fit the terrifying logic of the situation.
"The peaceful coexistence you hope for, the fusion of clan and village you believe in..." Shura's voice sounded like a funeral bell. "It's nothing but a beautiful bubble blown by the higher-ups to pacify 'naive' powerhouses like you. One poke, and all that's left..."
He pointed to the two crimson stains on Shisui's bandages. "...is this. Blood and despair."
The room fell into a deathly silence, save for Shisui's labored breathing and the cold, mechanical ticking of the monitors.
"No... it won't... Itachi wouldn't..." Shisui's voice trailed off. He sounded weak, unable to even convince himself.
He still believed in the Third Hokage. He still believed in Itachi. But what about Danzō? Just as Danzō had bypassed the Hokage to ambush him, if Danzō gave Itachi the order to save the village by destroying the clan... who could stop it?
At that thought, the foundation of Shisui's conviction finally began to crumble.