The trail led deeper into Lightning Country's remote wilderness, following paths that seemed to exist more in memory than reality. As we traveled—for the impostor had, surprisingly, agreed to let me attempt to undo his modifications—I began to recognize landmarks that shouldn't have existed. A distinctive rock formation here, an unusually shaped tree there, patterns in the landscape that triggered memories I didn't even know I possessed.
"You feel it too," the impostor observed, his artificial personality having stabilized into something less overtly hostile but no less disturbing. "The recognition. Like walking through a dream you're certain you've never had."
"Where are we going?" I asked, though part of me suspected I already knew.
"To the place where I was born," he said. "Not the laboratory where they made me, but the place that gave Orochimaru-sama the inspiration for my creation."
We crested a hill covered in twisted pine trees, and the sight below took my breath away. Spread across a narrow valley was a village—or rather, the ruins of what had once been a village. Stone foundations marked where buildings had stood, crumbling walls traced the outlines of streets and courtyards, and in the center of it all stood the remains of a structure I recognized despite its current state of decay.
It was an Uchiha compound. Not the one I'd grown up in, but unmistakably built in the same architectural style, with the same attention to defensive positioning and the same symbolic elements carved into surviving stone surfaces.
"Welcome to Ashigara," the impostor said with grim satisfaction. "The village hidden in ash. Though I suppose that designation is more literal now than it was during its founding."
I stared at the ruins, trying to process what I was seeing. "I've never heard of this place."
"Of course not," he replied. "It was wiped from the records along with its inhabitants. A necessary step in maintaining the official narrative about the Uchiha clan's singular status within Konoha."
We descended into the valley, and as we moved through the remnants of streets and buildings, I began to see evidence of what this place had been. The layout was similar to Konoha's Uchiha district but scaled for a much smaller population. Perhaps fifty families at most, all bearing the architectural preferences and defensive mindset that marked my clan's settlements.
"There were other Uchiha communities," I said, the implications slowly sinking in. "Outside of Konoha."
"Several," he confirmed. "Small settlements scattered across the continent, founded by clan members who left Konoha during various political disputes over the decades. Most were absorbed back into the main community eventually, but a few maintained their independence."
"What happened here?"
"The same thing that happened to our clan in Konoha," he said simply. "Only earlier, and more quietly."
We reached the central compound, and I could see evidence of fire damage that had never been repaired. Scorch marks on stone walls, the distinctive spiral patterns that marked advanced fire jutsu, the same systematic destruction I'd witnessed at so many crime scenes over the years.
"This was a test run," I realized with horror.
"Very good," the impostor said approvingly. "Ashigara served as a prototype for the Konoha massacre. A way to refine techniques, identify potential complications, develop contingency plans for various resistance scenarios."
The thought made me sick. This entire community had been sacrificed simply to provide intelligence for the eventual slaughter of my immediate family and friends. Their deaths had been reduced to tactical data in service of a larger atrocity.
"Who did it?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew.
"Itachi, of course," he said. "Though he had help from ANBU operatives who specialized in creating the appearance of internal conflict. The official story was that Ashigara destroyed itself in a clan war, driven mad by the curse of the Sharingan."
We continued through the ruins, and I began to notice details that painted a picture of the life this community had enjoyed before its destruction. Children's toys carved from wood, still scattered in courtyards where they'd been dropped during the attack. Gardens that had once been carefully tended, now overgrown but still showing traces of their original design. Memorial stones bearing names and dates that spoke of generations of families who'd built their lives in this remote valley.
"How many?" I whispered.
"One hundred and thirty-seven," he said without hesitation. "I have their names, if you're interested. The programming includes complete records of everyone who died here."
One hundred and thirty-seven more names to carry, I thought. One hundred and thirty-seven more weights to add to the burden of what my bloodline represents.
"Why are we here?" I asked. "What does this place have to do with your creation?"
"Everything," he said, leading me toward a structure that had suffered less damage than the others. "This is where they found the genetic samples that made me possible."
The building had once been a shrine or temple of some kind, dedicated to preserving clan history and honoring ancestral traditions. Inside, despite decades of exposure to the elements, I could still see evidence of its original purpose—faded murals depicting Uchiha legends, stone tablets inscribed with genealogical records, and in the center of it all, a circular chamber that had clearly been designed for some kind of ceremonial purpose.
"The Ashigara Uchiha were traditionalists," the impostor explained as we explored the shrine. "They maintained practices that the Konoha branch had abandoned in favor of political integration. Including the preservation of bloodline samples for future generations."
He gestured toward alcoves built into the walls, each one containing the remains of what had once been sophisticated preservation equipment. "They stored genetic material from every clan member, organized by family line and indexed according to bloodline purity. A complete library of Uchiha DNA spanning centuries."
"And Orochimaru's followers found this?"
"Eventually," he said. "Though not until years after the massacre. The location was kept secret even from most ANBU operatives involved in the original operation. It took considerable research to track down the surviving records."