The last lantern in the Uchiha district flickered out, swallowed by the weight of night.
Y/n stood at the threshold of her clan's empty streets, a pack slung over her shoulder. The silence was louder than any funeral. The compound had been a ghost town for months now—ever since that night. Ever since she'd used her Mangekyō for the first time in years, not to fight, but to feel.
The air smelled of dust and old grief.
She checked the scroll tucked inside her vest—her resignation letter to the Third Hokage, written in careful, unyielding strokes. She had no intention of looking back.
The Hokage's tower glowed faintly in the distance. A single light burned in an upper window. Tsunade, probably. Or Shizune. They'd find the letter by dawn.
But by then, she'd be gone.
She stepped onto the main road, sandals quiet against the stone. The village gates loomed ahead, guarded by two chūnin who were arguing over a game of cards. Neither noticed her as she slipped through the shadows, using the Fleet-Foot technique to blur past them.
The great gates closed behind her with a low groan.
Beyond them, the forest stretched into blackness. The moon hung low, a pale sliver in a star-scattered sky. Somewhere out there—maybe in the Land of Fire, maybe beyond it—her brother was waiting. Or running. Or both.
She paused at the treeline, hand resting on the hilt of her katana. The last time she'd seen Itachi, he'd looked at her like she was a stranger. Like she wasn't his twin. Like the bond between them had been severed so cleanly it might never mend.
She pressed her lips together and walked into the dark.
Behind her, the Leaf Village slept. Ahead, the world stretched open, hungry and unknown.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl cried out. And she disappeared into the trees like smoke.