I find myself in a black void. There's no light and no reflections, leaving me with nothing but an uncomfortable sense of nothingness. Suddenly, a flash of red fills my vision. I mentally flinch, but given my lack of a physical form nothing happens. Frankly, not having a form was a new one for my dreams.

As the red gradually mellows out into an ever present crimson hue, plants, buildings, and people begin to appear on the otherwise empty plain as if they were rendering in on an particularly terrible toaster. Along with all the terrain appearing, I also get my own body.

All the better, being immaterial was not an experience I enjoyed.

Oddly enough, from the leaves on the trees to the few people on the streets, nothing's moving. Something forces me to look down at my feet, allowing me to see the open toed sandals I'm wearing and the 10 meters between myself and the ground below me. However, as I try to look back up, for whatever reason I can't lift my head.

Weird. I've never been unable to move during a lucid dream before. Maybe the alcohol I had last night had something to do with it? I was going to have to do some extensive googling after this was over.

Briefly, the thought of forcing myself out of this dream crosses my mind, but I dismiss it as quickly as it comes up. As usual, I really want to see what my subconscious can cook up for me this time around.

Describing the sensation of inhabiting this vessel is difficult. I can feel everything it feels, but there are some obvious differences compared to what I'm used to. The most obvious difference being my eyesight - even with the heavy tint of red that everything is bathed in, my eyes are far sharper than what I'm used to. They pick up details that I would certainly miss in any other circumstance, and they dart around at dizzying speeds that I struggle to keep up with.

As I close my eyes, all I feel is my heart thumping away in my chest, and a tingling sensation spreading throughout my body. I take in a few deep breaths, and with a snap my eyes open to a different world.

For one, everything's moving now. I can feel the wind blowing through me - a pleasant reprieve to the oppressive wet heat that seems to blanket everything around me. The few people around move silently through the streets, gleaming headbands on their foreheads and harsh masks of indifference on their faces. There's a certain… feeling of decisiveness to their movements, something which causes my vessel to frown.

Headbands? Village? Black hair? Crouching from a high point?

Damn, I'm watching the Uchiha massacre through Itachi's eyes, aren't I?

Why the hell am I having this dream? I haven't seen an episode of Naruto in years, and even then the massacre wasn't well covered in the original show…

As Itachi dips his hand into his thigh pouch, I force any stray thoughts out of my head. I have my suspicions on how this dream is going to go, and frankly, now I'm not sure if I want to see it through.

Regardless, Itachi's having none of my hesitation. Judging by the weight of the knives in my- or Itachis? Why not, judging by the weight of the knives in Itachi's hands I'd say they were toothpicks, but their reassuring shape is confirmation enough that they are very real, and very deadly.

The power of chakra, I suppose.

Itachi doesn't linger on the lamppost any longer, leaping off of it and throwing his two kunai at the guards down below. Both kunai simultaneously travel through the air and find their marks, severing their spines before their bodies register the pain. They both clutch at their wounds and drop to the ground like puppets with their strings cut, whilst also slowly bleeding out on the ground.

The future sight of the sharingan is disorienting to be sure, but I can already see just how useful it is when adapted to.

Before Itachi even hits the ground he's unsheathing his tanto, and as he comes in for the landing he sticks the tip of his short sword inside the ring of the kunai in the rightmost guard, flicking it out of the man's neck and up into the air. Bending his knees to absorb the shock, Itachi leans down to his left to retrieve the other kunai before pushing himself off the ground and into the air again, catching the kunai he previously flicked.

Itachi does all of this in the span of a second, leaving me completely floored at the display of skill. This was.. Frankly superhuman levels of performance, though I suppose it could be explained away by 'chakra memes'.

However, that's far from the biggest issue. No, the biggest issue is the fact that my subconscious is most definitely not able to imagine a kunai falling at a consistent speed towards the ground. Most everything before this stunt could've been brushed off as some fancy brain work, but this is a level of consistency that I just don't believe I'm capable of thinking up, especially in a dream.

So that leaves me with two options that make sense in the moment - either VR has gotten matrix levels of good in the last five hours, or I'm experiencing a genjutsu of some sort, maybe even a Tsukuyomi from the man himself.

I don't know which one of those options is scarier.

In the seconds it takes me to think through what I've just seen, Itachi hasn't dropped his breakneck pace. Far from it - he's jumped through an open window, slit the throats of the couple sleeping in that bed, and is now moving on to the next room in his murder spree.

In the brief moments where Itachi is looking at a blank wall in the hallway, I realize I can somehow replay every action from memory, or at least, I can perfectly recall exactly what I saw Itachi do, if not what it felt like.

As Itachi sticks his tanto through a sleeping baby and I replay it in my mind over and over and over and over and over and over…

I realize that this is going to be a very long night.


After Itachi runs his sword through Fugaku for what feels like the hundredth time, time seems to drag on and on until his body begins to warp, limbs stretching and contorting into a grotesque mockery of what he used to be. His face is next to go, seemingly turning to putty and drooping off his face. His shining mangekyou begin to dull, spinning slower and slower until they stop completely and turn to a solid onyx grey.

Unlike the rest of his body they don't deform beyond that, maintaining their piercing glare, accusingly staring at m- Itachi. Accusing staring at Itachi for the death of his clan, the collapse of his family, for all the shattered dreams and lingering hopes that still remained, for being too little, too late, reminding me of every failure that I ever made in my worthless exi-

As I close my eyes, all I feel is my heart thumping away in my chest, and a tingling sensation spreading throughout my body. With a snap my eyes open to a different world.

I lived through the massacre more than enough times to know exactly what was coming up next. Heck, if my body was physically capable of moving at Itachi's speed, I could probably do a perfect reenactment of the entire thing.

Now isn't that a thought?

Any trauma and feelings of disgust have long been suppressed, and now only a sense of general apathy remains. What with the repeat viewings of the massacre and the slow acclimation to the Sharingans "future vision" even my amazement at Itachis is gone after watching him butcher civvies over and over again.

The only explanation I have for why the massacre was even possible is that the rest of the village was somehow in on it, and dealt with the actual ninja of the Uchiha accordingly. Maybe Konoha's ANBU had a hand in the massacre? They were mainly infiltration guys, but I could see them involved in sketchy village work….

I continue down this line of thinking for all of 20 seconds, before I abandon it completely.

Simply put, I'm exhausted. I can't stop myself from seeing what Itachi sees and feeling what Itachi feels, and that exhaustion has long been brought past the point where I would pass out normally.

Something about the combination of continuous action and the overlaying of memories on top of each other makes the experience particularly draining for me. I can still think in sentences that mostly make sense, but I fear that I'll lose the ability to do even that soon.

I prepare myself for another loop - the now familiar sucking feeling taking a hold of my body as my vision goes dark, and soon enough I'll be staring at - Itachi.

Now that was different.

There was absolutely zero doubt in my mind that this was Itachi. Everything from the way his hair draped over his headband to his spinning Mangekyou screamed that it was Itachi. Despite everything that he put me through, in the soft moonlight streaming into the room I can't help but notice that his eyes develop a certain… soft quality to them. His eyes do nothing for my exhausted mental and physical state however, and I fall flat on my face, too exhausted to even bring my arms up to slow my descent.


Jump. Slash. Stab. Vault over the counter top, propel chakra into your left hand to reposition yourself slightly mid-air, kick the chuunin in the teeth, crush his skull on the way down to the floor.


Walk up to Fugaku, cold indifference in your eyes. Go up and... and... and...


I wake in a cold sweat, desperately gripping my sheets, every fiber of my being dreading going back into the loop. With my body still in fight or flight mode I leap out of the hospital bed I'm on, propelling myself forwards with a brief application of chakra -

At least, I try to, only to find that my limbs are about half as long as they're supposed to be, I have close to negative core strength, and my chakra control is absolutely dreadful. I end up burning my backside as the chakra doesn't expel itself properly out of my body, and I fall to the ground.

Hold on, did I just tumble off a hospital bed?

As a nurse rushes in to help me up, I repress the urge to jump right away from her and keep my body limp, only using my legs to help her push me up.

I was safe. I was in a hospital, probably Konoha, given how I was probably Sasuke.

I try to avoid blinking as she helps me up, preferring to blankly stare at the hospital walls. I abandon that strategy as I vividly remember ripping a little boy's throat out with my bare hands because I was too hesitant to kill his dad and my kunai wasn't -

I force myself to avoid looking at the wall in favor of the nurse's face, hoping to find some relief there.

No dice. Her black hair and round face are eerily reminiscent of way too many girls I've butchered.

Ultimately, I decide to close my eyes and just accept the memories washing over me, trying instead to anchor myself back in reality using the nurse's gentle voice and firm touch as she guides me back into bed.

I need to stop thinking with I in these situations. It's not an I situation, it's Itachi. It's all Itachi, Itachi, Itachi, Itachi...

Every time my mind stops racing or I lose myself for even a moment, another dead face fills my vision, their death gruesomely replaying in front of me.

With shaky breath, I look up to the nurse and attempt to ask for a pen and paper. The confusion in her eyes confirms what I already suspected - we speak completely different languages and I have no way to communicate.

Well, that isn't entirely true. I try to mime writing on a piece of paper, and after a while she seems to get the message and leaves the room.

The nurse returns a couple minutes later, snapping me out of yet another one of Itachi's kills. I briefly wish that he would have fought some other high level ninja so that I could get some better memories to work with.

I put that line of thinking away as soon as it comes up, lest I begin thinking about all the other things I wish were true.

As I focus on the room again I find that the nurse has come back with a few extra visitors - namely, the hokage himself, Shikaku, who I assume is the jonin commander, and what looks like a Yamanaka. A jolt runs through me as I realize the implication of a Yamanaka being present, and suddenly I very much wish that mind readers weren't a thing.

Due to my complete lack of language skills, I decide that I'll play the catatonic 7 year old, briefly glancing at the two men before returning my gaze back forwards, allowing my eyes to unfocus and jump right back into Itachi's gift. The act is incredibly easy to maintain, and it's only until all three men and the nurse leave the room and a solid ten minutes has passed that I dare let myself lie down, facing away from the window.

It was already clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was in Sasuke's body after the first loop of the Tsukuyomi, and after that confirmation I'd gotten quite a lot of time to think about what I wanted to become. I'd already lived through what could be considered a relatively normal life, and frankly, I didn't want to go through it again. It was enjoyable enough the first time around but I don't think I have it in me to go through something remotely similar ever again.

Itachi-induced mental trauma be damned - I'm in the world of Naruto as one of the strongest characters in the entire series for fucks sake-

Of course I'm going to make it my bitch.


A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed reading this :D

It's my experimentation with the first person present, as well as some talk about how Sharingan users perceive the world / battle, and examine the emotional connection a Sharingan user might develop with their eyes. We'll probably also do some pretty heavy duty worldbuilding once we get around to it, so I'm pretty bloody excited about this one!

A link to a banger discord server I'm in - htt~ps:/disc~ord.~gg/STkJkeEVzE

Remove the tildas and you'll be set. Come and over to chat, it's a great place!