Nightmares continuously coiled around him.
Scenes of his parents being brutally butchered by his older brother… no, by that absolute bastard Uchiha Itachi, looped endlessly in his mind.
Fresh blood splattered all over his body. He had thrashed and struggled frantically, desperately wanting to stop it, desperately wanting to save them, but he was utterly powerless to do anything.
"If you wish to kill me... harbor malice! Cultivate your hatred! And cling to life in the most disgraceful manner possible! Run away... flee... and grovel in the shadows just to survive!"
"This was merely to measure the true limits of my capacity."
"My foolish little brother..."
Like demonic incantations, these words continuously echoed right beside his ears.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" Sasuke let out an agonizing, primal shriek as he violently bolted upright from his hospital bed.
The curtains were left undrawn, and a shaft of pure sunlight struck his face, feeling somewhat warm yet piercingly bright against his eyes.
"A dream?!" Sasuke looked to his left and right, a wave of inexplicable relief washing over his heart.
So it was all just a dream?
Why would I have a dream like that?
Is it because I'm sick?
But... everything felt so terribly real...
Right at that moment, a young nurse ran into the room, seemingly drawn by Sasuke's agonizing scream. Upon seeing the sheer bewilderment plastered across his face, she quickly spun back around and sprinted out into the corridor, shouting, "He's awake! The patient in bed two is awake!"
Within moments, a sizable group of Medical-nin streamed into the room, swiftly executing a comprehensive medical evaluation on Sasuke.
Sasuke was like a marionette on strings, passively submitting to their instructions and numbly complying with every checkup.
During the process, Sarutobi Shinnosuke, the Commander of the Anbu, arrived alongside the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen.
"What is his condition?" Shinnosuke questioned the attending Medical-nin directly.
"Physically, there are no adverse issues whatsoever. However, the patient's emotional state appears highly volatile, and he has sustained massive psychological trauma. These are matters beyond our medical expertise to alleviate," the Medical-nin reported swiftly.
"Very well, I understand," Shinnosuke stated.
He then shifted his gaze toward Sasuke, who remained seated on the bed with a completely numb, vacant expression. A deep sense of profound guilt and sorrow welled up within his heart.
"Uchiha... Sasuke," Hiruzen stepped closer to the bedside, looking down at the fragile child before him as he spoke softly.
His gaze, too, was heavy with immense shame. He seemed utterly at a loss as to what face he should present to this poor, unfortunate child.
Hearing his name, a sharp spark finally ignited within Sasuke's vacant eyes. He snapped his head toward the two men beside him. Recognizing Hiruzen instantly, he blurted out, "Lord Third... what happened to me? Am I sick? I had a dream... in the dream, Mom and Dad... in the dream..."
Hiruzen gently reached out and stroked Sasuke's head, but he remained completely silent.
This heavy, suffocating silence caused the tears that Sasuke had been holding back to instantly spill over.
"It was a dream, I'm just dreaming, right?!" Sasuke repeatedly implurred, desperately seeking confirmation.
Shinnosuke let out a heavy sigh, taking a step forward as he spoke. "Late last night, a catastrophic massacre occurred within the Uchiha clan grounds. Including your parents... everyone except you was killed. Our current... our current assessment indicates that your older brother, Uchiha Itachi, is the sole perpetrator behind this atrocity."
Upon hearing those words, the tears flowed silently down Sasuke's face. He ceased his frantic questioning about whether it was a dream. He didn't even attempt to deny the brutal reality confronting him. He simply sat there in absolute silence, letting the tears fall.
"Sasuke, the village will support you through this immense hardship. If there is anything you require, you can tell me..." Hiruzen said softly.
Hearing this, Sasuke slowly lifted his head, his gaze turning chillingly calm as he locked eyes with Hiruzen. "Lord Third... can you please kill Uchiha Itachi for me?"
Hiruzen's chest tightened. His expression turned solemn and quiet before he responded, "We have already designated Uchiha Itachi as an S-rank Rogue Ninja of the village. I believe we will locate his whereabouts soon. When that time comes... we will spare no effort to apprehend him and bring him to justice."
Perhaps because Sasuke was raised in the household of the Military Police Force's leader, the moment Hiruzen uttered those words, the boy instinctually detected a layer of deep hypocrisy.
Yet, he was intelligent enough not to voice his suspicions. Instead, he simply nodded, his voice dropping into a dark, resolute register. "It doesn't matter if you can't catch him... I will absolutely kill him with my own hands!!!"
At this moment, every ounce of his past innocence and naivety seemed to be violently stripped away from Sasuke's soul.
The young boy who loved to smile, who radiated a sun-drenched warmth, was dead.
From this day forward, nothing remained within his heart except absolute, unadulterated hatred.
The annihilation of the Uchiha clan, the slaughter of his parents… he would exact vengeance upon Itachi at all costs!
Darkness was systematically swallowing him whole.
Hiruzen found himself lacking the moral fortitude to linger and say more to Sasuke. After offering a few standard words of consolation, he quickly took his leave.
And it was on this exact day that the catastrophic extinction of the Uchiha clan spread like wildfire across the entire shinobi world.
The moniker of Clan KillerItachi rippled through every hidden village almost instantly.
To say the entire shinobi world was utterly stupefied would be an understatement.
What kind of monolithic status did the Uchiha clan possess?
Granted, within Konoha, they might not have been particularly well-liked by the political elite. But that did absolutely nothing to diminish their terrifying reputation on the global stage.
A legendary clan spanning a millennium, a premier shinobi lineage that had endured since the Warring States Period and even further back. They possessed overwhelming military might, a rich history, and a countless pool of high-tier masters. It was no exaggeration to say that every single move they made, every stomp of their feet, could cause the entire shinobi world to tremble violently.
This was a literal fact, had they actually initiated their planned coup against Konoha, it could have potentially triggered a global shinobi war.
Such was the monumental influence of the Uchiha clan.
Yet, an ancient, elite powerhouse of that caliber had been brought to the absolute brink of total extinction overnight.
And the sole survivor was a single young boy.
Worse yet, the perpetrator who had orchestrated this entire tragedy was none other than the eldest son of Fugaku Uchiha, the hereditary leader of the clan.
Uchiha Itachi, now universally feared as the Clan Killer.
But the most staggering piece of information... was that Uchiha Itachi was a mere thirteen years old this year!
Yes, while Itachi's features had matured rapidly, giving him the appearance of a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old, and his psychological intellect was profoundly advanced, the biological reality remained: he was only thirteen.
A thirteen-year-old child had completely dismantled the entire Uchiha lineage.
And he had personally executed his own biological parents.
This reality caused the eyes of the entire shinobi world to lock onto Uchiha Itachi with immense gravity.
Overwhelmingly powerful, chillingly ruthless, and entirely devoid of human empathy. This was the definitive assessment of Uchiha Itachi globally.
"Father... Mother... Uchiha Itachi!!!" Sasuke sat upright in his hospital bed, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as he hissed a low, hate-filled growl.
"Those are exceptional eyes."
An unfamiliar voice suddenly drifted into his ears.
Sasuke snapped his head upward, his gaze locking onto the doorway of the hospital room.
The figure standing there left an immediate, baseline impression that could be summarized in a single word: handsome.
The man wore a pristine, snow-white haori and hakama, entirely devoid of any ornate embellishments. A blade hung gracefully at his waist. He leaned casually against the doorframe, holding a traditional smoking pipe in his hand. A wicked, charming grin played across his features as he slowly exhaled a plume of white smoke.
He looked undeniably striking...
However, before Sasuke could even formulate a cognitive reaction, a nurse materialized right beside the man. With a swift, aggressive motion, she snatched the pipe straight out of his grip and barked with immense dissatisfaction, "I am issuing a formal warning to you, sir. Smoking is strictly prohibited within the hospital parameters. Do you understand?!"
In a single fraction of a second, the elite, mysterious powerhouse aura that Diarmuid had meticulously cultivated shattered into absolute pieces.
He could only offer an incredibly sheepish, apologetic nod toward the nurse, bowing slightly. "My deepest apologies, miss. I completely understand. It won't happen again."
"I am confiscating this pipe for the time being. You may retrieve it from the nurses' station later," the young nurse stated, her face flushing slightly even as she maintained a strictly professional, righteous tone.
When dealing with a handsome specimen of this caliber, even if an opportunity for interaction didn't exist, one had to actively manufacture one!
Judging by his impeccably tailored garments and the premium quality of the pipe, he was clearly a person of immense wealth. What did that signify?
It meant this individual was not only exceptionally handsome but also highly affluent. And if that blade strapped to his waist wasn't a mere cosmetic prop, there was a ninety percent chance he was a powerfully capable shinobi as well.
Was this not the ultimate eligible bachelor?
By legally confiscating his property now, he would be mechanically forced to visit her desk later to reclaim it. Voila, an organic point of contact. If she played her cards right, she might even secure a dinner invitation. The possibilities were endless!
Once the plotting nurse went on her way, Diarmuid turned his gaze back toward Sasuke, whose expression had turned exceedingly bizarre. A wave of awkwardness washed over him.
Well, this is magnificent...
He made a conscious effort to reconstruct his enigmatic, master-class demeanor, only to realize that the ship had completely sailed.
"Ahem..." Diarmuid cleared his throat with forced composure, casually stepping across the threshold into the hospital room.
Sasuke stared intently at this bizarre intruder, his mind filled with immense confusion. What is the deal with this guy? What is his objective? What did he just say moments ago?
Exceptional eyes?
Eyes... my eyes...?!
Sasuke snapped back to reality. Reaching over to the bedside cabinet, he grabbed a small vanity mirror and angled it toward his face.
A pair of crimson eyes, each housing a single, fully formed tomoe Sharingan, stared back at him.
"A single tomoe... well, I suppose that is a start," Diarmuid remarked, clicking his tongue lightly.
The initial performance of the future Second Young Master's genetic talent was truly a bit insulting to his reputation as a prodigy. It was honestly a bit lackluster.
His entire clan had been systematically butchered, and the resulting psychological trauma had only yielded a single tomoe Sharingan... it truly left one at a loss for words.
Just look at the future Dark Lord, Uchiha Obito. The first time his eyes manifested, driven purely by the desire to shield Kakashi, they opened directly as a two-tomoe pair. And the moment Rin Nohara died, those eyes violently bypassed the standard progression, mutating straight from two tomoe into the Mangekyo Sharingan.
And that guy was universally mocked as a hopeless failure in his youth...
"Why... the Sharingan..." Sasuke murmured, his voice laced with a sense of profound helplessness.
"The manifestation of the Sharingan requires an exceptionally severe degree of psychological trauma. Quite clearly, your system was subjected to an optimal catalyst," Diarmuid explained smoothly.
Sasuke fell into a heavy silence, choosing not to obsess over the mechanics of his eyes. He shifted his gaze back to Diarmuid, asking in a deep, guarded voice, "Who exactly are you? I have absolutely zero recollection of ever meeting you."
"We haven't met," Diarmuid stated with absolute tranquility.
Pausing for a brief beat, a slight smile played across his lips. "Though perhaps you might have encountered my name in historical records? Rodriguez Diarmuid."
"As an S-rank international fugitive across the entire shinobi world, someone who has executed a Daimyo and clashed directly with a Raikage, I am quite the legendary figure. How could a child of your lineage possibly be ignorant of my moniker?"
The response he received...
Was a blank, mildly confused look from Sasuke. The boy seemed to actively dig through his memories for a few moments before shaking his head. "I genuinely do not know who you are, nor have I ever heard that name... though I admit your name is quite unusual."
Diarmuid drew a deep, internal breath. It's fine. He is merely a child. He is barely seven years old this year and hasn't even graduated from the Academy. It is entirely logical and expected for him to be ignorant of a high-tier historical figure like myself!
"It matters not. You will inevitably come to know me in due time," Diarmuid offered a small smile.
Sasuke didn't pursue the statement, asking instead, "What is your purpose in seeking me out?"
"Hmm, how should I put it? Think of it as leaving a permanent impression, nothing more," Diarmuid mused thoughtfully.
Faced with this utterly eccentric individual, Sasuke found himself temporarily devoid of words.
Diarmuid, for his part, had no intention of engaging in an extended dialogue. Locking his gaze directly with Sasuke's Sharingan, he asked a single, weighted question: "Uchiha Sasuke... do you desire power?"
Sasuke's entire spirit jolted violently. But before he could even form a verbal response, Diarmuid let out a boisterous laugh, spinning around and fluidly exiting the hospital room.
"What an absolutely bizarre individual..." Sasuke murmured under his breath, his emotions highly conflicted. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, a deep intuition told him that the eccentric man was anything but ordinary.
"Rodriguez Diarmuid... I will remember that name," Sasuke whispered to himself, drawing a deep, steady breath.