Itachi stood behind Izuku, his Sharingan glowing beautifully in the dark. The Tomoe wheel spins as it scans the dark. Izuku likes to think Sharingan looks like shining rubies when activated in the dark. His Father, Hisashi Uchiha, was ahead of him, the Clan Head of the Uchiha. He stood tall, and his feet made no sound when he walked. He always had a stoic face. Izuku had never seen his father make any other.
Izuku hated the stench of the sewers. He couldn't keep his hand away from his nose, attempting to block the smell. Itachi warned that it would be like that. How could he walk while sniffing that putrid smell? How does he ignore it?
"Izuku," his father called. "Yes, Father?" The three walked at a slow pace so he could keep up. His eyes weren't like theirs. He didn't have the Sharingan. According to Itachi, only a Uchiha could find the signs leading toward the hideout. Izuku could barely make out his brother's and father's silhouettes. Everything seemed like black blots with blacker blots surrounding him. Izuku couldn't wait to unlock his Sharingan. Finally, then, His father would look at him with a smile. Finally, people wouldn't say he should be more like his brother. It wasn't common for the Sharingan to not show up after your fourth birthday. It might've been rare, but it wasn't unheard of. It wasn't like he was quirkless.
"Keep up, son. If you're left behind, finding you will be a hassle."
"Yes, Father."
The sewers seemed endless, with every turn looking the same to Izuku. The echoes of dripping water and the occasional skittering of rats were the only sounds that accompanied their footsteps. The darkness was oppressive, wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. Everything looked the same. He could see the darkness buzzing in front of him. Izuku didn't know what was in front of him. If it weren't for his father's and brother's glowing eyes, Izuku wouldn't know where to go. He wondered how they moved with such confidence. He sees their Sharingan guiding them effortlessly while Izuku stumbles over dumb pebbles and random debris. Why can't he move like them?
"Father, why do we have to come here?" Izuku asked. There was a long pause, seemingly done to keep him out of the loop. Hisashi doesn't turn around or twitch like he does when Izuku asks a question.
"This is a rite of passage," he said. "Every Uchiha must know the path to the Hideout. There are many throughout Japan. You must remember them so you can rest, guard them, and lead others here like I am."
A comforting palm lies over his shoulder. "You'll understand soon, little brother. Trust in the process." Izuku nodded. He was unsure if Itachi saw it, but his words put him at ease.
They finally reached a large, rusted door embedded in the sewer wall. It was thick and smelled like the old iron kunai Izuku used to play and practice with. There were two dim lights beside it. The lights gave off a dull brown glow. It barely lit the area around the door. The factory's name was stamped in the front, big and bold. Property of Mighty Toys
Izuku wondered if this was the entrance. It seemed too conspicuous to be a Uchiha hideout. Hisashi placed a palm on the side of the door. He pushed a small brick into the wall. The stone growled as it was pushed back. Then, after a quiet click, Hisashi let go, and the brick returned to its place, seemingly disappearing as if it had always been part of the concrete.
They stood silently momentarily, Izuku fixating on the wall beside his father. Suddenly, the wall creaked open, revealing a deep, dark crevice that appeared as though it had been forcefully carved apart. As lights flickered to life within, one after the other, a long passageway stretched out before them.
Izuku hesitated momentarily, his eyes widening as he peered into the passageway that seemed to stretch endlessly. The flickering lights did little to illuminate the corridor, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. It felt like they were stepping into the heart of the earth itself.
His father stepped forward, his movements precise and confident, followed closely by Itachi, who glanced back at Izuku with a reassuring nod. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Izuku hurried after them, trying to keep pace.
The air inside the passageway was different from the sewers. It was colder, with a slight metallic tang that reminded Izuku of blood. The walls, made of reinforced concrete, were smooth and slightly damp. It was like the place had been sealed away from the world for centuries. For some reason, an alarm blared in the back of his mind. It crept behind him, telling Izuku to halt. It's too dangerous for him to continue. Izuku shook his head and ignored the warning. His father and brother here, some of the clan's strongest. What was there to worry about?
Izuku pressed on, following his father and brother deeper into the passageway. The further they went, the more the air seemed to press down on him, heavy with the weight of centuries of secrets. The dim lights flickered sporadically, casting eerie, shifting shadows that played tricks on his eyes. Now and then, he thought he saw movement in the darkness just beyond the light's reach, but each time he blinked, the shadows would retreat, leaving only the cold, silent corridor.
Hisashi led them with unwavering confidence, his footsteps echoing faintly in the enclosed space. Itachi, as always, moved with grace and ease. Despite the oppressive atmosphere, Itachi seemed entirely at home in the darkness, his Sharingan eyes scanning the walls as if reading some hidden script only he could see.
They walked in silence, the only sound the soft padding of their feet against the stone floor. Izuku's heart pounded in his chest, the earlier comfort he'd felt from Itachi's words fading with each step they took. The passageway seemed to stretch forever, an endless tunnel leading to some unknown destination.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached the end of the passageway. A massive iron door stood before them, its surface etched with intricate patterns and symbols that glowed faintly in the dark. Hisashi approached the door, placing his hand on a particular symbol—a stylized version of the Uchiha clan's crest. The symbol pulsed with a soft, crimson light, and with a heavy groan, the door began to slide open.
Beyond the door was a vast chamber, much larger than Izuku had expected. The ceiling arched high above them, disappearing into the darkness. The walls were lined with weapons of all kinds—blades, kunai, shuriken, and tools of war—each meticulously placed as if waiting for their rightful owner. Along the far wall, a row of ancient scrolls rested on pedestals, their parchment yellowed with age.
But what caught Izuku's eye was the large, circular platform in the chamber's center. It was made of stone and carved into its surface were more glowing symbols, forming a pattern resembling a complex seal. A single figure, cloaked in shadows, stood in the middle of the platform. Izuku's breath caught in his throat as the figure stepped forward, revealing itself.
It was an elderly man, his face lined with age and wisdom, his eyes sharp and alert despite his years. He wore the traditional robes, and on his forehead, the clan's symbol was etched into a metal plate.
"Welcome, Hisashi, Itachi," the elder said, his voice low and commanding. His gaze shifted to Izuku, and for a moment, the boy felt like the man could see straight into his soul. "And," he paused briefly, seemingly from a dry throat, "Izuku Uchiha... You're younger than you should be for the Initiation."
Hisashi nodded, stepping aside to allow Izuku to approach the platform. Izuku swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the elder's gaze on him as he stepped forward. Unlike a regular tomoe, he had an odd-looking Sharingan but more of a star with a black dot stamped in the center.
"Don't mind his age, Elder," Hisashi says, "He must go through the trials. It has been almost two years since his fourth birthday, and he has yet to reveal his Sharingan. Many of the clan's enemies stare at us like hungry wolves."
"Fool," the Elder said, his voice roaring like thunder, "You realize if he continues with the Initiation, he'll never achieve *"
Izuku couldn't hear the end of the Elder's sentence as if it had been erased. "Father..." Itachi called, "Must he go through it?"
"Mind your tongue, Itachi, you're not here to give your opinions. This isn't like one of your missions with the HPSC. This business is within the Clan. You mustn't go against the clan. Never. Understood?"
"Yes, Father."
"Then it's decided," Hisashi said, "Izuku will undergo the Initiation, regardless of the risks. The safety of the clan outweighs any individual concern."
The Elder studied Izuku for a moment longer, his gaze piercing. The air in the chamber seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. Finally, the Elder sighed, "Very well," the Elder said, "But understand this, Hisashi, and you too, Itachi: the Initiation is not without consequence. Once it begins, there is no turning back. The boy's path will be set. Are you certain this is the path you wish to tread?"
Hisashi didn't hesitate. "I am certain," he said, "Izuku will walk the path of the Uchiha, just as his ancestors did before him. He will not be left behind."
The Elder nodded slowly. He turned his attention to Izuku, who felt a shiver run down his spine under the weight of that gaze.
"Step forward, Izuku," the Elder commanded, echoing through the chamber. You too, Hisashi, step up. Take your blade and run it through Izuku. Take his life."
Izuku eyes widen, the Elder wants his father to kill him? Izuku glazes over to his father. His face is neutral. He won't kill him, he wont kill his son, right? Hisashi approaches the center as the Elder reaches for a blade under his robes. It has a small grip, with the Uchiha crest sewn in and a shard edge no longer than a regular kunai. Hisashi takes the blade and glances toward Izuku with an indifferent stare. Izuku looks back to Itachi, his eyes asking for help. His brother won't let him die, right? Itachi stood still like a statue.
"Izuku," his head turns back to Hisashi. Pain is not your enemy. Take it, endure, like the rest of your ancestors."
Izuku is frozen. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind screaming to run. Tears flow to his eyes as Izuku realizes one truth: no one is here to protect him.
Hisashi's hand tightened around the blade's hilt, the metal catching the faint light of the chamber as he approached Izuku. The chamber was deathly silent, the tension thick and suffocating. Every step Hisashi took echoed in Izuku's ears, amplifying his fear. The boy's breath came in shallow gasps, his body frozen in place as the reality of the situation bore down on him.
Izuku's mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. This couldn't be real—his father wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't kill him. But as Hisashi closed the distance between them, his face devoid of emotion, Izuku's hope began to crumble. His father's eyes, cold and unfeeling, offered no reassurance, no hint of mercy.
This was a test, Izuku thought desperately. It had to be. A test of his courage, his resolve. If he could endure this, if he could prove his strength, then maybe, just maybe, his father would stop. But the fear gnawed at him, the uncertainty tearing at his resolve.
"Itachi," Izuku's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes darting to his brother once more. "Please..."
But Itachi's face remained numb, his gaze fixed on the scene before him. He stood still, making no move to intervene. Izuku's heart sank further. Itachi, the brother he had always admired, was letting this happen. The realization cut deeper than the blade in his father's hand ever could.
Hisashi stopped directly in front of Izuku, the distance between them barely more than a breath. The blade gleamed ominously in his hand, poised to strike. Izuku could feel the cold radiating from the weapon, the chill seeping into his bones. His father's face was a mask of determination, his intent clear.
"Do not fear, Izuku," Hisashi said, his voice low and steady. "This is the way of the Uchiha. You must embrace the pain, for it is through pain that we find strength."
Izuku's legs trembled, his knees threatening to give way beneath him. His eyes locked onto the blade, his vision blurring with unshed tears. The world around him seemed to fade, the only reality being the cold steel and his father's unwavering gaze.
Izuku wanted to scream, beg for mercy, and plead with his father to stop. But the words caught in his throat, choked by the overwhelming terror that gripped him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Each beat was a painful reminder of the life he was about to lose.
Hisashi's grip on the blade tightened, and without another word, he thrust the weapon forward, aiming for Izuku's heart.
Time seemed to slow as the blade inched closer, the world narrowing to that single point of pain. Izuku's mind screamed at him to move, fight back, or do anything to stop what was about to happen. But his body refused to obey, paralyzed by the shock and fear.
The blade pierced his chest, a searing pain exploding through Izuku's body. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as the agony overwhelmed him. The world around him spun, the chamber tilting and twisting in a sickening blur. Blood welled up in his mouth, the coppery taste flooding his senses as he staggered back.
Hisashi's expression remained stoic, his eyes never leaving Izuku's as he withdrew the blade. The weapon was stained with blood, Izuku's blood, and yet his father's hand did not tremble, his resolve unshaken.
Izuku collapsed to his knees, his vision darkening at the edges as the pain consumed him. The chamber, the Elder, Itachi—everything faded into a distant haze as the cold seeped into his bones, his life draining away.
But as the darkness closed in, a spark ignited deep within Izuku's mind. It was faint, barely more than a flicker, but it was enough to stave off the encroaching void. It was HATE.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why would Father kill me?
DEATH.
BLOOD.
PAIN.
DEATH.
BLOOD.
PAIN.
DEATH.
BLOOD.
PAIN.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
I hate him.
Hate.
Hate.
Hate.
Hate.
Hate.
Why would you kill me?
Betrayal!
Izuku's mind was a hurricane of thoughts. His body lay motionless. Blood poured from him like a flood. Izuku's world was a blur of pain, blood, and betrayal. His body felt like it was being torn apart from the inside out, his chest burning with a white-hot intensity that threatened to consume him entirely. The sharp, searing agony of the wound seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart, the blood loss making him dizzy and weak.
But amidst the haze of pain and the overwhelming sense of betrayal, there was something else—something deeper, darker, and more primal. A burning hatred swelled within him, a rage so intense that it seemed to blot out everything else. It was the hate for the father who had just stabbed him, the brother who had stood by and watched, the clan that had demanded such a trial, and the entire world that had brought him to this moment.
How could they? The thought repeated in his mind, each repetition feeding the growing inferno within him. How could they betray me like this? How could they leave me to die?
His vision, which had begun to darken, was suddenly flooded with a crimson light. It wasn't the light of the chamber's symbols or the dim glow of the torches on the walls. It was something deeper, something that came from within him, a fiery red that seemed to consume his entire being.
Izuku's body began to tremble, his fingers twitching as if trying to grasp something just out of reach. The pain in his chest was still there, throbbing with every heartbeat, but it was no longer the focus. No, the focus now was on the red-hot fury that was building, the intense desire for vengeance that clouded every rational thought.
Once dormant, the Sharingan in his eyes flared to life. It gleaned a bright scarlet, shining like a candle in the dark. The One Tomoe-Sharingan spun wildly. The pain in his chest was drowned out by the sheer force of the power that surged through him, a power that seemed to connect directly to his rage and his hatred.
Hisashi, who had stepped back after delivering the blow, watched with a mixture of caution and something close to satisfaction as Izuku's eyes transformed. The Elder, too, observed the scene, his ancient eyes narrowing as he took in the sight before him.
"It has begun," the Elder murmured, almost to himself. "The curse of hatred takes root."
But Izuku wasn't aware of the Elder's words. All he could see was red. All he could feel was the boiling rage that threatened to tear him apart from the inside. And then, something inside him snapped.
With a guttural roar that echoed through the chamber, Izuku surged to his feet, the wound in his chest seemingly forgotten. His hand reached for his own blood, smearing it across his face as if marking himself for war. The Sharingan in his eyes blazed with an intensity that sent a shiver down the spine of even the Elder, who had witnessed many such awakenings before.
Hisashi, still holding the blood-stained blade, took a cautious step back, his eyes locked onto his son's. But even his stoic expression faltered slightly as he saw the look in Izuku's eyes, which promised nothing but death.
"Itachi!" The Elder's voice was sharp, commanding. "Intervene!"
But Itachi remained where he stood, his eyes fixed on his brother. There was no emotion in his gaze, no hint of the turmoil that might have been raging inside him. He watched, detached, as Izuku's power surged, the aura around him crackling with raw, unchecked energy.
Izuku's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. His father's betrayal, his brother's abandonment, and the sheer injustice of it all threatened to consume him. But at the center of it all was the desire to strike back, to make them pay for what they had done.
"Why?" Izuku's voice was a growl, low and dangerous. "Why would you do this?"
Hisashi didn't answer immediately, his eyes still locked on Izuku's blazing Sharingan. When he finally spoke, his voice was as cold and unfeeling as ever. But the anger could flare for some long. From his eyes were tears, salty tears mixed with blood, running down his cheeks. He hung in his brother's arm, grabbing his sleeves, sobbing harder than ever.
Hisashi dropped the blade and approached Izuku. His hands laid on his head, lightly grasping him, before maneuvering his fingers to his neck. He pressed firmly near the jugular, and Izuku's wild movements halted instantly.
It was done. A pang of regret pierced Hisashi's heart as he saw his boy lay motionless in Itachi's arms. He glances over toward Itachi, his face quiet like his but not stoic. It seemed like pity. Hisashi didn't take any mind off it.
"Itachi," Hisashi calls, "Take your brother home and lay him to rest. I'll send someone over to have him recover. In the morning, he will continue his training. You must return to the HPSC before they learn of your leave. We must not have they know you're our spy instead of theirs."
Itachi nods and slowly raises, cradling Izuku in his arms. He dashes out of the chamber gracefully, his Sharingan flaring its maximum power.
"Elder, I hope I've made the correct choice."
"We shall find out in the near future. Indeed these are troubling times, despite the fall of All For One. Our new enemies, the Hero Public Safety Commission, attempt to destabilize us. Despite them making us the guardian of their society."
Hisashi stood still, he had too many worries. He must focus on Izuku's and the Clan's future. "Farewell, Elder, I hope we don't meet again."