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Chapter 66: Truly, My Son!
Though Itachi didn't know exactly what Fugaku had seen in his vision of the future, from his father's expression alone, he could tell—it must have been a future filled with hope and promise.
Fugaku cast a final glance at Danzō, the man who had opposed him and his clan for so many years. A flicker of regret stirred in his heart.
His life was nearing its end, yet he had failed to revive the Uchiha Clan, and failed to personally eliminate one of its greatest enemies.
Turning to Itachi, who knelt by his side, Fugaku's face was already growing pale and ashen.
"Itachi… you've never once disappointed me."
"From now on, your mother and brother… they'll be in your care.
You will be the pillar that the clan cannot do without."
Summoning the last of his strength, Fugaku reached up and grasped Itachi's arm tightly, smiling as he spoke the final words of his life:
"Truly, my son!"
As Fugaku's eyes slowly closed for the last time, Itachi's expression remained calm, eerily so—his emotions unreadable.
But his clenched fists and the blood dripping from between his fingers revealed the truth:
His heart was far from calm.
"Truly, my son."
That single phrase was perhaps the one Fugaku had said to Itachi more than any other throughout his life.
Itachi had always been a prodigy, always standing a step ahead of his peers.
And every time, Fugaku would beam with pride and speak those same five words.
But starting today, that phrase became a farewell, a memory sealed in time.
From now on, Itachi would only ever hear his father's praise in his dreams.
—
While Fugaku gave his parting words to Itachi, tension erupted between Danzō and Shisui.
"Danzō-sama, what was that just now!?"
Shisui demanded, voice sharp.
Fugaku's warning had allowed him to evade Danzō's ambush—but Shisui wasn't about to let it go unchallenged.
Danzō's eyes narrowed coldly.
"The Uchiha—such a cursed bloodline—should never have existed in this world."
"You're nothing more than a pawn with a little bit of value.
Hand over your eyes, and consider it your final contribution to Konoha."
Without warning, Danzō lunged again—intending to end Shisui before he could recover.
Itachi had arrived on the scene. Danzō knew he had to kill Shisui and take his Sharingan before the boy had time to recover or escape.
If he failed—he would lose his chance to acquire the legendary Kotoamatsukami forever.
"What are you saying?!
Does Lord Third… share your views!?"
Shisui was stunned.
Until now, he'd believed that exterminating the Uchiha was a necessary evil to preserve the village's peace.
That the real threat lay only in the radicals within the clan—those pushing for a coup.
The rest of the clan, in his eyes, were simply collateral damage—tragic, but unavoidable.
But now, hearing Danzō's words and witnessing his actions—it all felt wrong.
This wasn't a strike for peace. It was a premeditated purge of an entire bloodline.
"Of course Lord Third agrees with me!"
Danzō snapped back, his tone full of conviction—
In response to Shisui's question, Danzō answered casually, all while intensifying his assault.
Whether or not Hiruzen truly shared his views didn't matter—Shisui had to die, here and now.
Already pushed to his limit, Shisui soon suffered several more wounds under Danzō's relentless onslaught.
Cornered and unwilling to die without answers, Shisui burned with the need to confront the Third Hokage himself.
There was only one technique left that could turn the tide—Kotoamatsukami.
Pouring the last of his strength into his Mangekyō Sharingan, Shisui stared directly at Danzō's exposed left eye.
"Kotoamatsukami!"
But to Shisui's shock, the jutsu failed to activate—and in that instant, Danzō's blade plunged into his left shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Danzō stepped on Shisui's right hand, pinning him down. Then, driving his sword deeper, the blade pierced through his shoulder and into the earth, holding him there as he looked down coldly.
"You severed your own optic nerve..."
Noticing the unfocused look in Danzō's left eye, Shisui's voice trembled with disbelief and helpless frustration.
He had no strength left to fight back—and now, the questions tormenting his heart would go unanswered.
With a bitter smile, Shisui murmured:
"So in the end… you were only using me for my ability.
And all that talk of 'peace for the village'... was just a pretense to make me kill my own clan."
"If I had known…
I would have rather died by the hand of Lord Fugaku.
At least back then, I believed I was fighting for Konoha."
Danzō sneered:
"You're just another cursed Uchiha.
Your death is your greatest contribution to the village."
"And as for your precious Kotoamatsukami—
I'll be taking that."
With that, Danzō drew a kunai, aiming it for Shisui's throat. His intent was clear: kill him first, then harvest the Sharingan.
Shisui stared blankly up at the night sky, tears silently streaming down his face.
For someone like Shisui—a true idealist—death wasn't what he feared.
What terrified him was the utter collapse of the dream he'd given his life to uphold.
"Maybe… death is a kind of release."
He closed his eyes, waiting for the end.
---
"Amaterasu."
The cold, emotionless voice rang out—Itachi had arrived.
Whether or not he would ultimately kill Shisui didn't matter.
What mattered was Danzō must not get his hands on that eye.
The moment Danzō heard that voice, a wave of danger surged through him.
Instinct took over—he immediately abandoned his strike and leapt aside.
That reflex saved his life.
This Danzō was not yet the overconfident version seen years later in the original story—dulled by power and numb to danger.
In canon, Danzō had transplanted multiple Sharingan into his body to power the forbidden technique Izanagi—which allowed him to rewrite death itself.
But this overwhelming ability had also made him arrogant, blind to risk.
In his final battle with Sasuke, Danzō had lost his edge entirely, using Izanagi like a crutch, and falling to fatal blows over and over.
But this version of Danzō had not yet acquired Izanagi, and thus still retained the keen battlefield instincts that had kept him alive for decades.
Reactivating his visual nerves temporarily, Danzō looked behind him—black flames of Amaterasu consuming the trees.
Then his gaze shifted to Itachi—whose eyes bore a pattern far more intricate than the typical three-tomoe Sharingan.
"Another Mangekyō Sharingan...!?"
Danzō cursed inwardly.