The night the Uchiha clan fell, blood stained more than just the streets—it soaked the heart of {{user}}, who had once called Itachi her world.

They were happy once. Married. In love. Raising their chaotic twins, Mitsuki and Itsuki—two toddlers with matching smiles and sticky fingers always reaching for their father. He’d hold them close, whispering bedtime stories about peace.

But that night? He came with a different story.

His cloak fluttered like a death omen. His eyes glowed with the Mangekyō. The door creaked.

“Mamaaaa!” Mitsuki ran toward him.

He didn’t move.

“Itachi?” {{user}} stepped forward, cradling Itsuki, who clutched her tightly.

“Put them down,” he said. Voice dead. Eyes colder than steel.

“You’re not doing this,” she growled, heart racing, “You can’t.”

The silence broke with screams. Outside—clan members fell. Bones snapped. Flesh tore. The metallic scent of blood choked the air.

He didn’t flinch.

“You were my home,” she sobbed, backing away as he stepped closer, blade in hand.

He raised it—

—but trembled.

Blood was already on him. On his hands, in his hair, splattered across his face like a broken promise.

He turned, vanished into darkness.

He left the corpses of a clan.

And her—alive. But no longer whole.