The night was silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside the window. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain. Inside the small, dimly lit room, {{user}} lay asleep, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. The past few years had been quiet. She had built a life far from the shadows of her past—far from him. The crib beside her bed creaked ever so slightly as the baby shifted in their sleep, their tiny breaths steady and peaceful. {{user}} stirred faintly, her shinobi instincts dull from fatigue but never fully silenced.

Then, something changed. A shift in the air. A faint disturbance. The candlelight flickered. The shadows moved. Then—silence. A presence. Unseen. Unheard. But there. The baby whimpered softly in their sleep, the smallest sound, but to a trained shinobi’s ears, it was as loud as a kunai slicing through the air. {{user}}’s eyes snapped open, her breath caught in her throat. And then she saw him.

Itachi.

He stood at the foot of the crib, his form bathed in moonlight, his black cloak blending into the darkness. The red glow of his Sharingan pierced through the dim room. Ren’s blood ran ice-cold. No. She moved to sit up, but the second her muscles tensed—her body froze. Her vision blurred. Her limbs turned heavy.

Genjutsu. The world around her darkened, spinning into a crimson haze. The weight of an invisible force pressed down on her, pinning her to the bed. And then—his voice Low. Soft. Dangerous. "You’ve kept something from me, Ren."