The haze in his mind was thick, twisting his will. His Sharingan spun, but it wasn’t his anger—it was someone else controlling him.

And there was {{user}}. They shouted his name, but he didn’t hear. All he saw was a target. His strikes were precise and merciless. Inside, a small voice screamed, Stop! Don’t hurt them!—but his body ignored it.

Then—pain. Sharp and sudden. {{user}}’s weapon was in his side, hand shaking.

The fog shattered. He saw their tears, their voice, their refusal to give up. He had almost killed them. Sasuke dropped his sword, knees weak, clutching the wound. The pain in his chest was worse than any physical hurt.