5

1

“So this is how it’s going to be, huh?” Kakashi muttered.

Beside him, Itachi held his breath. At that moment, his team leader, the lower half of his face covered by a black mask, was already gone. Itachi jumped off the cliff after him.

The dead bodies of his comrades lay in the valley ahead. Land of Frost ninjas had killed them.

The two lands had been on the verge of forming an alliance when it happened. The alliance was to be made official ten days later, and they had been in the middle of a mission to exchange letters stating the final terms, when the ninjas from the Land of Frost suddenly bared their teeth.

The enemy had been uninterested in an alliance from the start.

Four Konoha ninjas up against ten from the Land of Frost. Outnumbered. In the blink of an eye, the Konoha ninjas tasked with the duty of receiving the letter had been killed.

If they witnessed the breakdown of negotiations, they were to exterminate the enemy: that was the mission Itachi and his team had been given. In other words, they were not to move until the situation was clear. Thus, their initial response had been delayed, leading to the annihilation of their allies.

The moment ten Land of Frost ninjas appeared—a suspiciously large force—it had felt very much like a breakdown in the process. If the Anbu had leapt out at that point in time, their comrades might not have died. However, even if Itachi had been leading the team, he couldn’t have moved until all four were wiped out.

Ahead of him, Kakashi landed in the midst of the enemy, his right hand already piercing one of the ninjas. A stream of blue lightning enveloped his arm.

Chidori … Kakashi’s best technique.

By the time his team leader was pulling his arm back out, Itachi had landed dead center among the enemy.

There were two other Anbu with them. One was Sugaru. And the other was a ninja called Tenzo. He was a little younger than Kakashi, but his career in the Anbu had already been fairly long.

“Konoha Anbu!” an enemy ninja shouted.

In the next instant, a thick tree branch tangled up around the man’s throat and tightened, like a snake. Unable to push back against the incredible force of it, the man expired, long tongue lolling from his mouth.

It was Tenzo’s jutsu. He was able to use Wood Style, a ninjutsu only the first Hokage, Hashirama, had been able to use.

“Konoha never had any intention of making an alliance with us, hm?” another enemy said to Kakashi.

“You came at us first.” Kakashi didn’t wait for the other man to argue the fact; Chidori dug into the other ninja’s stomach.

Itachi heard a shriek from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw an enemy hurtling toward him, a long sword held up above his head.

Itachi turned around. The sword closed in on the top of his head. He quickly lifted his arm, and grabbed the wrist of the enemy’s hand on the hilt.

“Ngh!”

“Give it up,” Itachi advised, still clutching the man’s wrist.

Unable to bring the sword down on Itachi, the enemy glared at him, cold sweat popping up on his forehead.

The sharingan.

His enemy shuddered violently once, and then completely relaxed. Like a marionette with its strings cut, the man had started to droop and fall toward the ground, when his head rolled off into space before Itachi’s eyes.

A ninja blade glittered to the rear of the enemy. Sugaru.

“The mission from the Lord Hokage is the extermination of the enemy,” Sugaru murmured in a voice only loud enough for Itachi to hear. He had seen through Itachi’s secret plan to trap the man in genjutsu with the sharingan, and make him pass out.

There was no need to exterminate the enemy. Whether their envoys returned or not, the incident here would soon be known to the Land of Frost. It was vengeance enough to take out the ones who had murdered the four Konoha ninjas. Letting the others live, and return home to relate the true power of Konoha, would be a more effective check against the Land of Frost.

“I know,” he told Sugaru’s back, as the man was already turning toward a new enemy; then, Itachi set his sights on a new target.

There were four enemy ninjas left. They had already lost the will to fight.

Sugaru’s blade flew toward the neck of one on his knees, begging for his life. Beyond him, Tenzo’s Wood Style ninjutsu produced sharp branches that pierced the back of a female ninja trying to flee.

“This will make the Land of Frost and Konoha enemies!”

“Your lives will prevent that,” Kakashi said gently, as his arm ripped into the other man’s solar plexus.

“Itachi!” Tenzo.

Itachi caught sight of an enemy coming toward him with a grim look, prepared for death. Holding kunai in both hands, clenching his teeth as he raced toward Itachi, the boy was still not even ten years old.

The Land of Frost was small. Although the larger battles were no more, in a country that still had few ninjas and a national power that was immature, even a child like this had plenty of war potential.

“Gah!” His battle cry already sounded like a sob.

Itachi met the boy head-on. A sharp pain raced through his stomach. The boy’s kunai had stabbed him. The slender shoulders shook fiercely as they touched Itachi’s belly. The boy’s terror had surpassed his limits, and tears began to fill his eyes.

“Itachi!” Kakashi shouted.

“I’m all right,” he replied calmly, and Kakashi and the others watched, surrounding him from a distance.

Shaking like a leaf, the boy slowly lifted his face. Tears spilled out of the eyes that looked up at Itachi. “Ah. Aaaunh.” His fear became sound, and slipped out of him.

“You’re a proper ninja now. Be strong,” Itachi told his enemy kindly.

In his confusion and fear, the boy had no idea what was going on. He shook his head from side to side, and desperately tried to turn his eyes away from reality.

“You didn’t run away; you came right at me. So, I want to treat you with the courtesy a full-fledged ninja deserves.” Itachi grabbed his kunai from behind, so that the boy couldn’t see. He ran his blade up from below into the slender nape of his crying enemy’s neck. He gently pulled the kunai from his own stomach, and stepped back.

A spray of blood shot out from the boy’s neck. None of it splattered Itachi. This, too, was etiquette for a ninja. The young body fell onto the pile of corpses, neither enemy nor ally.

“This is also a battlefield,” Itachi murmured, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

Am I actually getting closer to my dream? Itachi asked himself in his heart. He felt as though his body were gradually growing heavier, buried in the easy flow of time. His childhood days when he prayed with all his heart that he would become a ninja stronger than anyone else were already in the distance, and the bonds coiling about his entire body were trying to trap Itachi in the framework of “just a ninja.”

If this is how it is, I want to just walk away from the village, the clan, the Anbu, and be free … 

He knew that this would never be allowed.

The boy’s eyes, devoid of light, stared endlessly at the troubled Itachi.

“Make a list of the number of expected participants at the time of action, invasion routes, attack targets, and assassination targets. I’d like to decide on the crucial day of action at the next meeting. Put together your opinions before then. If you have any ideas, you can speak them at any time. Simply make sure to be careful of the eyes of the people of the village.”

When Fugaku finished speaking, the brethren relaxed for a moment. They were loosening up at the thought of the end of the meeting. But that easy calm was shattered by the tense voice of Yashiro.

“Is Itachi here?”

Itachi felt a disgust at the voice calling his name.

When he didn’t answer, the voice called his name again in irritation. “Itachi!”

“I’m here.” Itachi raised a heavy arm.

Rather than rebuke Itachi for his attitude, Yashiro simply stared at him with cold eyes. “You were there at the breakdown of negotiations with the Land of Frost the other day, yes?”

Itachi said nothing.

“Answer me.”

“Anbu missions are not to be spoken of to outsiders.”

“Are you seriously saying that to me?” A deep groove grew between Yashiro’s eyebrows.

Itachi stared at the narrow eyes before him without responding.

“For what purpose did you join the Anbu?”

Itachi was silent again.

“To obtain a variety of information from a place close to the center of the village, and report to us,” Yashiro answered himself.

“Yashiro.” As if to toss his silent son a lifeline, his father said the name of his trusted retainer.

Yashiro made no move to answer him, but simply continued to glare at Itachi. “What have you brought to us since joining the Anbu? Not once have we heard the secrets of the village from your mouth.”

“I just don’t know any, so I can’t talk about them.”

“Is it really only that?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The spirit of rebellion flickered in Itachi’s eyes.

Yashiro took this with a daring smile crawling across his face, while a man with long hair stood up beside him. Uchiha Inabi. He, too, was Itachi’s father’s trusted confidant. “You’re turning on us, aren—”

“Enough!” Fugaku roared.

Both Yashiro and Inabi were forced into silence at this rare display of anger from Fugaku. “You both understand exactly what this time means for the clan. We cannot follow through on these serious matters when we are at each other’s throats.”

The men were silent. Finally, Yashiro sat down; disgruntled, Inabi followed suit.

“You sit, too, Itachi.” His father glared. “Itachi.”

His father’s voice sounded weak to him as he stood there still. Almost like an entreaty.

“Excuse me.” The pain in Itachi’s chest naturally turned into words, and spilled out.

His father desperately tried to pull everyone together. Why was he being so servile, trying to reconcile everyone? Was the framework of the clan that important? To Itachi, it looked as though his father were being toyed with by the passion of the younger men.

I don’t understand … 

“At any rate, the next meeting will decide our path. It will be an important meeting. Be aware that absences will not be tolerated.”

The meeting ended with turmoil still in the air.

Itachi began to walk home alone, without meeting anyone’s eyes. He didn’t even see Shisui or Izumi.

2

Danzo looked down at Hiruzen, who was putting his pipe to his lips. They were alone in the Hokage’s office.

“Six months since he joined the Anbu, hm?” Hiruzen said, exhaling smoke.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about the boy you have your eyes on.”

“Hmph!”

Occasionally, Hiruzen spoke in this sort of roundabout way. “He’s carrying out his duties faithfully.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t you come to talk about him?” Hiruzen had seen through him. For Danzo, who hated more than anyone to have his own thoughts read, it was deeply difficult to endure.

He made a move in return. “It appears you have an Uchiha directly under you now, hm, Hiruzen?”

Hiruzen brought the pipe to his lips, looking at though Danzo had poked a painful spot.

Danzo ignored the look, and continued. “I hear you’ve removed Uchiha Shisui from his regular duties, and given him permission to move at his own discretion and judgment? And that, in name at least, we have another Uchiha in the Anbu.”

“Shisui wanted me to give him the freedom to act. I simply opened the road to him.”

“So now the Hokage is listening to the whims of a mere ninja?”

“I simply took into consideration the feelings of someone worried about the Uchiha clan.”

“If you give the same consideration to the circumstances of every single person, the village will fall apart.”

“I know. I don’t need you telling me that!” Hiruzen shouted, revealing his irritation. “How about you stop beating around the bush, and tell me already? What exactly have you come for today, Danzo?”

I should really stop torturing him already, Danzo gloated in his heart, before bringing up the matter he had under consideration.

“Just as you have one of the Uchiha clan under your control, I should like one arranged for me.”

Hiruzen made an obviously disgusted face the instant the word “control” left Danzo’s mouth. Once he had finished listening, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he looked at the other man. “You’re saying give Itachi to the Foundation?”

“The thought never even entered my head.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I am not playing dumb,” Danzo asserted.

Hiruzen narrowed his eyes, measuring Danzo’s sincerity. The countless creases around the corners of his eyes deepened. “What are you thinking, then?”

“Why not promote Itachi to team leader?”

“He’s still only eleven.”

“And Anbu team leaders are to be thirteen or older,” Danzo said, a thin smile spreading across his face. “You do have that rule there somewhere, hm?”

Hiruzen got an uncomfortable look on his face. “The Anbu are a division supporting the central pillars of the village. The team leaders who rule over them must have sufficient judgment. Thus, the requirement that they be at least thirteen.”

“Sufficient judgment. Itachi already has that.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Age and the like are meaningless before actual ability.” Danzo’s firm stance pushed Hiruzen into silence. “Are the rules that important, Hiruzen? The dissatisfaction of the Uchiha clan is already a nearly untenable situation. In order to break through this status quo, we need someone in a position to make effective use of the will of the Foundation, and someone connected with you. A mere Anbu ninja won’t be able to avoid the orders of his team leader. Promoting Itachi makes it easier for him to move.”

“You’re saying put him between you and I, without having him belong to the Foundation?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. No one in the Uchiha clan can match the abilities of Itachi and Shisui. If we can win those two over, it likely won’t be difficult to prevent the explosion of their clan. Just as you gave Shisui special privileges, it is necessary to give a certain amount of the same to Itachi.”

“But eleven is simply too young to lead a team.” Hiruzen was wavering.

One more little push … “Then, what if he were twelve?”

The third Hokage did not respond.

“Itachi’s publicly disclosed age goes up a year, and that neatly takes care of the rule, don’t you think?”

“Let me think about it a little more.”

“Understood.” Danzo was certain. Hiruzen would definitely consent.

“How’s school?” Itachi asked his brother as he wet his throat with some cold juice.

“It’s way better to train here like this with you.” Sasuke smiled, looking up at Itachi from the bench where he sat, clutching in both hands a can with droplets of water forming on it.

“It’s way better to train here like this with you.” Back when he had first started at the academy, Itachi had said the same sort of thing to Shisui. Once again, he felt keenly how alike he and his brother were.

His mission finished early, so he decided to train with Sasuke once he got home. Because Itachi couldn’t spend too much time with him normally, he actively tried to create opportunities. And the time he spent with Sasuke soothed Itachi more than anything else in his life. Sweating together with his little brother, he could escape his everyday troubles.

When did it start being like this?

Lately, whenever he saw Shisui, all they did was talk about where the clan was headed. It had been who knew how many years since they trained together. Even talking with Izumi, his attention ended up focused on her feelings, and he couldn’t stay free of obstructive thoughts. He knew he was too involved there, but he couldn’t help it. In the end, it was only when he was training with his brother that he could just be himself, without thinking about anything.

“Is school boring?”

“No, it’s not, but …” Sasuke mumbled, staring at the opening in his can.

Itachi had a pretty good idea of what his baby brother was thinking. “Is it that your skills and thinking are too different, so things aren’t going too well with your friends?”

Because it had been like that for Itachi. He had been able to do everything better than everyone else, so the other students in his class had seemed very much like children. Their way of thinking, and the way they faced things, had been too juvenile; he hadn’t been able to talk with them with the same sense of values. He wondered absently if it wasn’t the same for Sasuke. He felt like his brother shared the same awkwardness he did when it came to interacting with people.

“I don’t especially want it to go well or anything. I mean, those guys, their ninjutsu and their schoolwork are just totally no good.”

“What about Naruto?”

“Huh?” Sasuke’s eyes widened at the unexpected name that came out of his brother’s mouth. The gaze he turned upward to Itachi was clouded with surprise.

Itachi himself was surprised. He didn’t know why he had said Naruto’s name. The child with the golden hair who was the same age as his little brother had simply popped into his head.

“He’s a total disaster, no matter what they make us do. And he’s always finding a reason to bug me. He’s super annoying.”

“So, Naruto bugs you?”

“I don’t think about him at all, but then he’ll come over to me, and start complaining and stuff.”

If his little brother’s position at school was no different from Itachi’s when he had been there, then Itachi assumed the other students gave Sasuke a wide berth. While they acknowledged his abilities, none of them truly tried to befriend him.

However, Naruto walked right up to Sasuke.

The boy boasting he would be Hokage came back to life in Itachi’s mind. That poor child with the Nine Tails in his body; no one wanted anything to do with him. Despite this, he had unshakeable faith in his big dreams. His bearing, his way of talking, everything about him was the polar opposite of Sasuke.

But when Itachi imagined the two of them together, it seemed strangely fitting. “He comes over to you because he’s curious about you. Be nice to him.”

“I can’t be nice to a kid like that.”

“It’d be nice if you could someday,” Itachi said, placing the palm of his hand on Sasuke’s head.

“There’s totally no way!” Sasuke shut his eyes tightly, his nose crinkling up, and gritted his teeth.

Unconsciously, Itachi burst out laughing at the funny expression. His little brother relaxed his face, and also started to laugh.

The warm evening passed peacefully.

3

Sitting with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, Fugaku listened to the sound of the sliding door closing, and opened his eyes.

His own room. He was sitting cross-legged, looking at the alcove where the seat of honor was set on his right, his back turned to the wall of the right side of the room. It was his own son opening the sliding door that led to the hall, and showing his face.

“Did you need something, Father?” His too-talented son made no attempt to warm the recent, excessive chill in his voice, as he stayed outside the door.

“Come in,” Fugaku urged.

Itachi finally, reluctantly, stepped over the threshold to the room. He closed the sliding door behind him, and sat down properly on his knees before his father.

“I heard you went to the park with Sasuke.”

“I did.”

He had seen the two come home covered in sweat, and called Itachi in after his bath. His younger son was sitting at the table, and talking with his mother.

“I have to prepare for my mission tomorrow. I’d appreciate it if you could be brief about your business,” Itachi said, face stiffening, clearly on guard against his father.

It was no wonder. Recently, they hadn’t had any semblance of a conversation. About the only opportunity they had to hear each other’s voices was at the regular meetings. And with all eyes on him, Fugaku couldn’t put on a fatherly face there. Given that they had nothing but formal contact with each other, like strangers, it was only natural that a distance would grow between them.

“Don’t speak so stiffly,” Fugaku said, and smiled. It was the best smile he could muster. In general, he rarely smiled. As the head of the Military Police Force, as the man who pulled together all the young people of the clan, he felt that he must not show reckless emotion.

No … When he thought about it, he had never really smiled, not since he was little.

Which reminded him. When had he last seen his son smile? He couldn’t remember.

My son and I are alike … A strange joy rose up in his chest.

The delight Fugaku felt at that moment was different from the simple emotion of a parent at their child resembling them. His son was the genius of the academy, passing his chunin exams on his own, the first Uchiha posted to the Anbu. And Fugaku’s joy came from the fact that such a storied ninja would resemble him.

It was fairly twisted for a father to see his own son as an object of aspiration. Fugaku himself was very aware of that. Which was why, sometimes, he found his son unpleasant. As a man—rather than as a father—he was forced to acknowledge the fact that he had lost. This led to the cool attitude he adopted toward Itachi. He knew it was foolish as a parent. But his pride as a ninja simply could not rejoice in Itachi’s advancement in the world.

And now his son was starting to move away from him.

“How is your work with the Anbu?” he asked, still smiling.

Itachi looked at him with wary eyes. “As long as I am putting into practice the things I’ve learned since graduating from the academy, there is no how.”

It was a model answer. Apparently, his dispassionate son had the idea that at that moment, he was interacting with the man who governed the young people of the clan, rather than his father.

“Yashiro and Inabi aren’t here,” Fugaku remarked, trying hard to keep his tone gentle. “I’m your father, and you are my son. Those are the only people in this room.”

Itachi was a clever child. All Fugaku had to say was that, and the boy seemed to understand his father’s thinking. Still, Itachi did not immediately become open and straightforward, the way he had when he was five or six. His guard relaxed slightly; that was the extent of his heart softening. Even so, his eyes became much calmer than they had been. “Things haven’t changed, really, from when I wasn’t in the Anbu.”

“You’re not doing any difficult work?”

“There is some of that,” his son murmured. And then he lowered his eyes for an instant, before looking straight at his father once more. “Given that I’m in the Anbu, no weakness can be tolerated.”

“That’s my boy.” His favorite thing to say. When he was praising his son, those were always the words he used. But at some point, it started feeling like he was saying it to bolster himself, rather than his son. Trying to keep his talented son beneath him, he bound him with the words “my boy.” That’s what he felt like.

Saying it was already a habit. When he wanted to praise his son, the words came out before he even had the chance to think, so that after he said, “that’s my boy,” a sharp thorn would stab into his heart. And again that day, Fugaku felt the pain in his chest.

“Don’t worry about things at the meeting,” he said, as if to push aside the uneasiness in the area of his solar plexus.

“What?” His son looked surprised at his words. He was likely assuming Fugaku would rebuke him for the exchange with Yashiro and the others at the meeting. Itachi was surprised at having that expectation betrayed.

“It’s not as though everyone in the clan thinks the same way. I have no intention of forcing our thinking on you. Rather than a stone drifting along with the strong current, I want you to be a man, like a rock that stands against the current, and pierces it.”

“Father …”

“You do not need to yield in your own thinking. If you cannot accept what Yashiro and the others say, then you can stand up, and proudly assert your own ideas.”

“But it doesn’t seem like they would tolerate that at the meeting.”

“It is indeed as you say.” A sigh slipped from between Fugaku’s lips. “The young people are moved by passion, and they lose sight of themselves. And they expel those who don’t agree with them, charging forward toward what they believe to be lofty.”

“Father,” Itachi murmured.

“What? Say it.”

“All right.” Looking as though he had resolved himself, the boy began to speak. “Do you have a different opinion than they do, Father?”

“I do not,” Fugaku asserted. “My feelings are the same as theirs. I am simply not so young as to cast out differing ideas.” His son’s disappointment was so clear, he could almost pick it up in his hand.

“Is that so …”

The boulder had already begun to roll. There was nothing to be done about it at this late date. Or rather, Fugaku had no intention of doing anything. Rising to action was the only possibility left to their clan.

But he did not want to force his son to obey. “You should stay true to your thinking. Fight, be confused, be lost, and come through that to find your answer. And once you find it, make your decision, and do not waver from it. Find your answer, and be ready to follow through. That is determination.”

“Determination …”

“Yes. There are few people in this world who live their lives with their own determination. They leave their decisions to others, and avert their eyes from responsibility. You must not live like that, at least. Move forward in your life, making your own decisions.” Fugaku felt something hot in his eyes. He tried desperately to calm the emotions in his heart without his son noticing.

“I understand,” Itachi said, like a small battle cry, and turned passionate eyes on his father. “I will never leave the decisions in my own life to someone else.”

“Now that is my boy.” For the first time in a long time, Fugaku was able to say the words in a straightforward way. There was no pain in his heart.

The slight trembling of Hiruzen’s eyebrows did not escape Danzo’s notice.

The formal meeting room at the Hokage Residence, the seat where budgetary policy for the governance of the village of Konohagakure was determined. In addition to Hiruzen and Danzo, the councilors Koharu and Homura were there. At this meeting, they would set the basic policy, and, taking that into consideration, Hiruzen would select the personnel in village government and the official budgets.

“About the budget for the Military Police Force.” Taking his eyes off the document he had before him, Hiruzen looked at the other three. In his hand was their proposal. “The basic idea is to significantly reduce the budget, but what exactly is the meaning of this, Koharu?”

Hearing her name, Utatane Koharu opened her eyes a narrow slit and peered at Hiruzen. “It’s been seven years since the end of the war. Life has gotten back to normal, for the most part. And it has become customary for the Anbu to investigate serious and brutal crimes. The current role of the Military Police Force is quite limited. There’s no need for the same budget they’ve had in the past, is there?”

“That said, isn’t cutting their budget by forty percent a bit too abrupt? A cut like this will also have a significant effect on Military Police Force personnel.”

Staring at the sour look on Hiruzen’s face, Mitokado Homura opened his mouth. “Rebuilding after the Nine Tails’ attack is mostly complete. The urgent need now is for new facilities and wider roads. And now that early graduation has been abolished, the academy will need to expand soon, as well. We don’t have the extra resources for a shrinking organization.”

“I know. I know that, but if we do this in such a way that we make the Military Police Force alone the enemy, it will be increasingly—”

“It will spur dissatisfaction among them?” Danzo spat, seizing his opportunity. He continued without a pause. “I will ask you then, is there another division in this village that is growing smaller as obviously as the Military Police Force? The cause for the reduction is clear: peace in the village, and the expansion of Anbu duties. The Military Police Force can perform no other role than maintaining the peace. And given the negative feelings of dissatisfaction they harbor toward the village, it’s doubtful as to whether or not they are faithfully performing even that role. I feel that maintaining their current budget is simply pampering them.”

“It is not pampering. It’s sheltering.”

“Sheltering? Why would people with no impediment to their work need to be sheltered?”

“Because the places where they can be active have been severely limited by people like you, who are prejudiced against that clan!” Hiruzen pounded his desk and stood up, as Homura and Koharu watched coolly.

Rather than pushing back the grin that spread across his face, Danzo turned to the third Hokage, his old acquaintance, and said, “So, you would shelter them because there is prejudice. Isn’t that in and of itself an act of distancing and discrimination?”

“What did you—”

“It’s precisely because they have the Military Police Force to work at, and because they are assured a more than ample budget from the village, that the Uchiha clan refuse contact with outsiders, and sneak around with people from their own circle. You distance them in the framework of the Military Police Force under the pretext of sheltering them, and so you allow them to grow this evil flower of dissatisfaction within themselves. Isn’t that so?”

“The formation and management of the Military Police Force was the dying wish of the second Hokage.”

“Don’t you feel that way of thinking is outdated?” Danzo asked. “I believe a revolution is necessary, now especially when the Great War is over, and the scars from Nine Tails’ attack are beginning to heal. But, what does everyone else think?”

“I have no objection,” Koharu voiced her agreement. Homura nodded silently. Danzo had already gone round to speak to them, and the three were of the same opinion on the matter of reducing the Military Police Force budget.

Only Hiruzen was on the outside. “And what will we do when the Uchiha clan’s dissatisfaction explodes?”

“You’re using Shisui to prevent that, are you not?” Danzo struck the final blow.

It hit home. Hiruzen faltered.

“Wasn’t that the reason you pulled the young ninja, so worried about his clan, from his regular missions, gave him a position in name only, and permitted him a certain level of independence?”

“Thirty percent, then,” Hiruzen said hoarsely.

A bitter choice.

He was acting exactly as Danzo had expected. Danzo didn’t believe a reduction of forty percent was possible, either. He had anticipated thirty percent being the point of compromise.

“If we cut any more than thirty percent of their budget, we won’t escape backlash from the Military Police Force.”

“I respect the Hokage’s decision.”

Hiruzen made an obviously disgusted face at Danzo’s seemingly deliberate words.

4

Shisui had called him to their usual cliff.

It was already the middle of the night. The village and the compound were asleep. Still, the eyes of the Anbu who watched over the compound were open.

During Itachi’s work monitoring the clan, he had memorized the angles of all the cameras watching them. He had already devised a route that allowed him to move freely through the compound, slipping through the slight gaps that rose up in the angles between cameras. He had only told Shisui about the Anbu’s monitoring, and the route through their blind spots.

Shisui was the sole ninja he could trust. He definitely wouldn’t leak the information to anyone else. He should have been making his way to the cliff through the blind spot route as well.

No one knew about their meeting.

Once Itachi had slipped through the compound and escaped the eyes of the cameras, he ran. The moon, in its last quarter, glittered nearby in the center of the sky. Beneath shining stars that looked as though they would come tumbling down, he ran intently, keeping to the shadows.

The forest abruptly split, revealing his destination, the cliff, a human figure on the edge of the rough rock. Standing with his back to Itachi, Shisui was staring at the raging river that could be seen below the cliff.

Itachi raced over, and stopped behind him. “Sorry to make you wait.”

“I just got here, too,” Shisui said, turning around, exhaustion obvious on his face. He had faint bags under his eyes, and his cheeks were a little hollow. His jaw, significantly tapered down, looked more like a mark of overwork than growth into adulthood.

“You look really tired.”

“Things have been happening.” Shisui dropped his eyes, a shadow he couldn’t hide clinging to his face.

“I know I said we’d work together,” Itachi said in a gentle voice, as if sympathizing with his friend. “Sorry for always leaving things to you.”

“You can’t do anything that would cause you to neglect your missions. We’re both in the Anbu, but I’ve got permission from the Lord Hokage to move freely. It’s only natural I’d be working. There’s nothing for you to feel bad about.”

His friend was kind enough to say that, but Itachi keenly felt his own worthlessness. Even as they shared the same determination to prevent their clan’s coup d’état, what exactly had he done? Shisui had gotten the right to act alone to dig into the clan’s conspiracy, and was investigating their movements day and night. Unlike him. Itachi was always putting the clan off, swamped with his daily missions.

Even still, Shisui treated Itachi as someone of the same mind. Which was exactly why they had slipped away from the eyes of their monitors to meet outside the compound like this.

“Before I get into it, there’s something I want to tell you,” Shisui started, his gaze so sharp, it was painful. “The clan suspects you.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. I know.”

“A ninja of the clan’s been ordered to monitor you.”

“What?” The clan was watching Itachi. And Shisui was saying that the one accepting this role was a ninja of the same clan. Who in the clan was in a position to hand down orders to his brethren … ?

His father.

“I can’t believe he would—”

“It’s true, Itachi. I witnessed it myself, so there’s no doubt about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the one given the task of watching you is me.”

Shisui’s words pierced his heart. His father had ordered Shisui to watch him?

“They’re using the fact that I’m close to you. Three senior officials from the Military Police Force came to order me to monitor you,” Shisui said, as if hearing Itachi’s voice in his head.

Three senior officials … 

“Yashiro, Inabi, Tekka. They suspect you. And you and Yashiro did have some fierce words at the meeting.” Shisui was covertly telling him that it wasn’t his father.

But his father was in the position to give orders to those three. Even if Yashiro and the others were the ones who approached Shisui, Itachi didn’t know exactly where that order had originated. A black doubt rose up in his heart, the polar opposite of the love he had felt at his father’s kind words earlier. Exactly which one was his real father?

“I probably don’t need to say this, but I’ll make some things up, and report back to them. So you can relax.”

He didn’t doubt Shisui.

“But there’s no doubt that the radicals in the clan have their eyes on you.”

“I was ready for that.”

“That firmness is both a good thing and a weak point for you, you know,” Shisui said, smiling. “I like it.” His friend turned his eyes up to the sky, and took in the moon hanging in the dark.

“You have this strength, like no matter what happens to you, your way of thinking will never be shaken. If it’s to do what you believe in, you’ll stand and face whatever enormous force might rise up before you without flinching. Which is exactly why I can trust you. And …” Shisui turned his eyes away from the slice of moon, and slid his eyes along the ground before looking directly at Itachi. “I can tell you what I’ve decided.”

“What happened, Shisui?”

“You know what day tomorrow is, right?”

Itachi nodded silently. The regular meeting of the clan.

Last time, his father had said that this meeting would be critical: they would decide the schedule for the coup. In other words, at the meeting the following day, the consensus of opinion of the clan would be confirmed, and the resolve to act would become fixed.

“If everything goes as usual at the meeting tomorrow, we won’t be able to stop things.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to attack your father on his way to Nakano Shrine.”

Itachi couldn’t stop his heart from racing.

“Relax. I’m not going to kill Lord Fugaku or anything. I’m just going to trap him in a genjutsu.”

“The sharingan you used that time with Mukai?”

“Exactly.” Shisui’s eyes glowed red in the darkness. And then, the three magatama patterns in each eye grew larger, and merged into one. “Mangekyo sharingan.”

After that day, Itachi had looked into this himself. In old Uchiha documents, only the existence of the Mangekyo sharingan was noted; the record stopped with the mention that its power far surpassed that of the normal sharingan. It further noted that the number of people who had activated this sharingan could be counted on both hands, perhaps, and that even for members of the clan, it was a visual jutsu with many unknowns.

“Even Lord Fugaku, the fearsome ‘Wicked Eye,’ won’t be able to avoid these eyes.”

“But I mean, trapping him in a genjutsu, what are you actually going to do?”

“At the same time as I awakened these eyes, I got a certain jutsu. A jutsu called ‘Kotoamatsukami.’”

“Kotoamatsukami.” Itachi felt an indescribable unearthliness in the word.

“It puts the person trapped in the genjutsu into a state of total unawareness; then, you can make them do what you want.”

Itachi understood that this was basically what visual jutsu was; whether or not the target was aware of what was happening was determined by the ninja applying the jutsu. The ninja incited an awareness in the target that they were caught in a jutsu, leading the target to doubt everything, and get caught up in the jutsu. Or else the target unconsciously sank bit by bit into the jutsu, so that by the time they realized what was going on, there was nothing they could do about it. This Kotoamatsukami fell into the latter category, which wasn’t particularly uncommon for a visual jutsu.

“The advantage of this technique is that the effect and the duration are both multiplied because of the power of the Mangekyo sharingan,” Shisui added.

As if urging him to explain, Itachi stayed silent, and continued to stare at his friend’s strange sharingan.

“For the visual jutsu of a normal sharingan, your gaze has to intersect with the gaze of your intended target to some degree. You need that direct action, and the flow of chakra. But the Mangekyo sharingan allows me to sidestep all that a bit. I just have to look at my target’s eyes, and I can pour my chakra in, even if our gazes aren’t intersecting. And the amount of chakra is several times more than with normal sharingan. So the target falls into the visual jutsu instantly. They have no idea anything’s even happened.”

“So you mean by the time the enemy sees you, they’re already in the jutsu?”

“That’s it exactly.”

“And you’re going to use that on my father?”

Shisui nodded forcefully. “If I can just get him in Kotoamatsukami, I can make Lord Fugaku tell everyone the coup is off. And I can make Fugaku himself believe from the bottom of his heart that it was his own idea.”

“You can write over the mind of the ringleader?”

“It’s only the fact that it’s your father that makes me hesitate.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Itachi asserted. If it were to stop a coup d’état, he would gladly do anything, even if it meant reaching into his own father’s mind. It was just that the one who could actually execute this plan was Shisui.

“Don’t come to the meeting tomorrow, Itachi.”

“Why not?”

“The radical faction suspects you. If I make Lord Fugaku’s attitude change abruptly, you’re the first one they’ll point their fingers at. I don’t know what they’ll do if you’re at the meeting.”

“You’re saying they’d attack me?” Itachi thought that would be just fine. The few years since he became a ninja had taught him that in order to avoid a large fight, sometimes, you couldn’t avoid a small one. To rid this world of all fighting, a serious sacrifice was necessary. “If they attack me, I’ll just fight them off.”

“Yashiro and the rest don’t have a chance against you. But that skirmish would inevitably interrupt this important meeting.”

“So you’re going to take control of my father, and force everyone to go in the other direction, huh?”

“Yeah.” Shisui grabbed Itachi’s shoulders. “If I pull it off, the clan’s enthusiasm for the coup should drop. We knock down Lord Fugaku, create an opening, and gradually win members of the clan over to the anti-war side.”

“Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“Wait here until the meeting’s over.”

“But—”

“It’ll definitely work.” Shisui grinned forcefully. “I’ll come here to report the results of the meeting. Just wait ’til then. The next time we meet, the clan will have taken a step toward peace. We’ll need your strength after that. I know you’ll be critical, given how far beyond the clan you’ve gone. So you totally can’t die before then, no matter what happens. Leave everything to me tomorrow. Please.” His good friend bowed his head deeply.

“Sorry I can’t help at such an important time as this,” Itachi said, lowering his own head.

“Itachi.” His friend tightened his grip on his shoulders. “Our fight starts tomorrow.”

“I’ve been ready for a long time.”

5

“What? You know just what tomorrow means!!” In the dead of night, his father’s roar echoed throughout the house.

Itachi’s first reaction was not fear of his father, or concern about his rage. It was the trivial thought, Did that yell wake Sasuke up?

His little brother had school in the morning. Knowing nothing of the ominous shadow that hung over the entire clan, Sasuke spent his days concentrating on himself and his own work. His little brother needed his precious sleep to recharge his batteries for the following day, and Itachi didn’t want it interrupted by a boorish roar of anger.

His father’s room. His parents were both sitting in front of him. His father had his arms crossed, and was glaring at his son, while beside him, his mother’s eyebrows were raised, and her mouth turned downward at the corners. Seeing this, Itachi realized for the first time that his mother and his father felt the same way.

He had never once spoken with his mother about the clan issues or the meetings. His mother didn’t ask, and he hadn’t initiated any such conversation. Because she had never once spoken about these matters with his father while he was present, he hadn’t known before now just how she viewed the clan. But in that instant, he understood everything.

His mother, sitting next to his father and his obvious anger, was a member of the clan, and in favor of the coup. When he thought about it, it was only natural. She was not the sort of wife to shout out objections when her own husband was the leader of the scheme. Even just reasoning from her gentle temperament, he saw that she was not the sort of person who would go against his father’s wishes.

Itachi had known this about her. But even knowing it, he was still quite shocked to see her feelings on display before him like this. Itachi faced his father, trying not to look at his mother to the extent possible.

An aura flickered on the other side of the sliding door behind him.

Sasuke … 

So his father’s loud voice earlier had woken him up. A flame of anger sprang to life in Itachi’s heart. His father completely lacked consideration for his little brother.

Fugaku had forgotten about Sasuke the day before the entrance ceremony, and tried to go along on Itachi’s mission, and now, this angry roar. Even when he looked at his brother’s report cards—always straight As—he didn’t really say anything to the boy. His mother had told Itachi that Sasuke was disappointed by this, and he couldn’t help but feel so sorry for his little brother.

Recently, Sasuke’s feelings toward his big brother had become more complicated. He had gotten the mistaken idea that their father only ever looked at Itachi, and a faint jealousy had taken root in his heart.

Itachi wanted to shout at Sasuke that he had it all wrong. Their father didn’t see Itachi as his son; he saw Itachi as a useful tool, necessary for his own ambitions to carry out a coup d’état. Itachi’s relationship with their father was definitely not what his little brother thought it was.

What was Itachi actually getting yelled at for in that moment? Not for going against his father’s wishes as a son, or for acting incorrectly as a human being. No, his father was furious that Itachi would not be at the meeting that was so critical to his own aspirations.

Itachi steeled himself and opened his mouth, as if to brush aside his father’s hatred. “I have a mission tomorrow.”

“What mission?!”

The foolish question exhausted Itachi. At the very least, his father knew that Itachi was obligated to keep Anbu mis-sions confidential. He couldn’t simply answer just because he was asked.

“I can’t say. It’s top secret,” he replied, his irritation growing. The naive questioning was an obvious annoyance, but he was also frustrated by the fact that his parents were so absorbed in the conversation that they didn’t even notice his brother’s aura.

Hearing the words “top secret,” his father closed his eyes, arms still crossed. His always tightly closed lips were pressed even more firmly together, and he stayed silent, tension oozing from every pore on his body. His mother turned worried eyes on her husband. Both of their faces shone with a thin layer of sweat.

A silence that was difficult to endure filled the room. Worried that Sasuke might not be able to withstand this tense atmosphere, and collapse, Itachi focused his mind on the aura behind him.

“Itachi,” his father said, and then paused before speaking again. “You are a pipeline that connects the clan with the center of the village.” His eyes were colored a faint red, but they didn’t change so much that the pattern of the sharingan rose up in them.

A pipeline connecting the clan and the center of the village … 

A spy, basically. You push this dirty job on your own son, and now you have to pester him about it? Itachi asked his father, silently. Naturally, he did not get an answer; his father’s sharp gaze simply hurt, and stabbed through his tattered heart.

“You … know that, yes?”

“Mm hmm.” It was all he could do to offer that answer.

If he were to do exactly as his father wished, and work in a way that would delight Yashiro and the younger people of the clan, what on earth would become of the village? The 24-hour monitoring of the clan by the Anbu. Danzo’s request to provide information about the clan. These bits alone were more than enough to enrage his father and the others. The plan to stage a coup, already advanced to the stage where they were about to decide on a specific day, would be accelerated, and the resentment of the young people toward the village would reach its peak. And what would come after that?

War.

And then the defeat of the Uchiha clan, and persecution greater than anything they had seen before.

Itachi had come to understand only too well in his life as a ninja that the village of Konohagakure was most certainly not pure and innocent. It wasn’t just a prejudice toward the Uchiha clan. They had sealed the Nine Tails in a newborn baby, and then, with only the baby himself unaware of this fact, they had isolated him, surrounding him at a distance. The Anbu was the same. The Hokage himself had organized this institution that bore the burden of the darkness of the village, and singlehandedly forced them to take on dark work behind the scenes.

This village took the things it didn’t want to look at, foisted them on someone else, and then pretended not to see. In a place like this, would the clan be able to live as it had after being defeated in an attempted coup?

No. The path his father was attempting to walk was a road to ruin.

Itachi’s thoughts were shattered by his father’s voice.

“Bear this in mind.”

What did “this” indicate? Floating in a sea of thought, Itachi had for an instant lost sight of what Fugaku was talking about. And then, he remembered that his father was referring to the “pipeline connecting the clan with the center of the village.”

“And you will come to the meeting tomorrow,” his father continued.

Itachi stayed silent. He could not go. He had promised Shisui.

Still, he couldn’t muster the energy to declare here and now that he would not go. If he did, his father would get even more enraged. And if that happened, this conversation would go on even longer. He couldn’t sit here with his father any longer.

Sorry, Sasuke, he apologized to his brother in his heart, before turning his eyes away from his father, and toward the aura behind him.

“Sasuke. If you’re done in the washroom, hurry up and go to back to bed.”

In that moment, his mother and father appeared to notice his younger brother’s presence for the first time. The sliding door behind Itachi slowly opened, and Sasuke stuck his head in apologetically.

“A-all right.”

His father stood up, and looked at Sasuke. His eyes had already stopped seeing Itachi. “What are you doing wandering around in the middle of the night? Hurry up, and go to bed!” Fugaku called, in a voice that was very close to a reprimand.

The anger bleeding into his father’s words wasn’t purely toward his brother for being up so late. His anger at having an important discussion interrupted won out. Actually, that was all it was.

Perhaps cleverly understanding their father’s mental state, Sasuke simply answered, sadly, “All right.” He lifted his hanging head, and turned toward Itachi.

His eyes are blaming me for something … 

What on earth could his brother be blaming him for? Because he had revealed Sasuke’s presence there? Or because the boy thought it was Itachi who had put their father in such a state? Or simply because he was jealous of his older brother having their mother and father all to himself?

In Sasuke’s eyes, brimming with emotion, there was a depth that didn’t allow Itachi to read the younger boy’s true intentions. He was spurred by the urge to know what his brother was thinking, even if he had had to use the sharingan, but he didn’t actually do anything.

There was only one thing in Itachi’s heart. A desire to atone for having used his little brother to cut short the conversation with their father.

6

Danzo looked at the boy standing in front of him, and thought there was not enough darkness in him. Not compared with another ninja of the same clan, Itachi.

“I hear there is a meeting at Nakano Shrine tomorrow?”

“Given that you live in the darkness of the village, it’s no surprise you would know that. But even with that in mind, I have to admit part of me is dumbfounded that even this clan secret is known.”

“It is a reality of this village.”

“So you’re saying you were just letting us go for the time being?”

“You are indeed wise, Uchiha Shisui.” Danzo said the name of the ninja standing before him. “I have a question for such a wise ninja.”

“I don’t have a lot of time, so keep it short.”

“Yes, it would be unpleasant if you missed your chance to attack Fugaku, after all.”

A crease cut across the space between Shisui’s brows. “Even that …”

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I did not hear it from Hiruzen’s mouth. And it goes without saying Itachi did not leak it. One of my men looked into it.”

A line of sweat rolled down the forehead of the wise youth.

“I can’t say that controlling Fugaku with your visual jutsu and bringing the plan for a coup d’état to a halt is a particularly good idea.” Danzo put a hand to his chin as he stared at the young ninja. “The majority of the clan is already leaning toward the coup. Flipping the ringleader Fugaku at this stage, you’re just spitting into the ocean.”

“I won’t know unless I tr—”

“I have made it through two great wars, and I am telling you, your plan will most certainly fail.” Danzo’s severity closed Shisui’s mouth. “Even if you succeed in controlling Fugaku with visual jutsu, proposing a halt to action at the meeting today, and managing to pull off this stopgap, nothing will change. The radical faction will only think Fugaku’s change of heart is because he has become cowardly in his old age. They will quickly pick a new leader, and move to put the plan into action. Listen to me, Shisui.” He put his will into his left eye, and shot a look at the wide-eyed younger man. “The head can always be replaced.”

“Don’t talk like it’s all done already!” Shisui’s simple rage looked to Danzo like nothing more than a tantrum.

“That Mangekyo sharingan. I would be able to use it more effectively.”

“Wha—” Shisui tried to jump back, and get some distance between them.

But.

In that moment, he realized that he couldn’t move his legs.

“Insects are such interesting creatures,” Danzo said, taking a step forward. “When a human being is bitten by a mosquito, the pain is nothing. Not even the sensation of being bitten, once the itching is gone.” He took another step closer to Shisui. “But the poison of a scorpion, or a spider, can bring even an enormous beast to death at times.”

“Wh-what did you do?”

Without responding, Danzo took another step. “If there were an insect which bit like a mosquito, but had the poison of a scorpion in its bite, it would be irresistible.”

Abruptly, the world behind Shisui shimmered, and a man appeared. He was wearing a white tiger mask.

Trembling, Shisui turned his face slowly, and looked at the man over his shoulder. Ignoring this, Danzo directed his words toward Tiger Mask.

“What are you calling yourself now?”

“I go by Sugaru.”

“Oh, that’s right.” A few more decisive steps, and Danzo was within arm’s reach of Shisui. “This man is from the Aburame clan. Given how wise you are, now that I’ve told you that, you need no further explanation, hm?”

“Ngh!” Shisui gritted his teeth, trying to move somehow. His strong figure was so pitiable, Danzo’s lips naturally twisted into the form of a smile.

“Relax. It is not a poison that will kill you right away. You will live just long enough for both of your eyes to be plucked out.” Danzo was already close enough that all he had to do was lift up his hand, and he would be touching Shisui’s face. “They’re fresher plucked out while you’re still alive, and they adapt faster, too.”

“Danzo …  What are you …”

“I’m doing this,” Danzo said, as he reached out his left hand.

His index and middle fingers reached up, along with his thumb, and touched Shisui’s right eye. He pushed back the upper eyelid with his index and middle fingers, and the lower one with his thumb, gradually revealing the slick, shining eyeball. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stabbed his fingers into the eye socket. He felt the warmth of the orb on the palm of his hand.

I finally have the Mangekyo sharingan. Delight danced in Danzo’s heart.

“And one more,” he murmured. And then, he had no sooner wondered if Shisui’s remaining eye was shining faintly, than it suddenly disappeared from before him.

“Body Flicker,” Sugaru muttered.

“Hurry! After him!” Danzo roared, and Sugaru leapt into action. The auras of his subordinates on standby around them also disappeared. “We cannot allow him to live.”

In the end, it was Itachi who would realize Danzo’s long-held ambition. Shisui was nothing more than an obstacle. If he hadn’t had the Mangekyo sharingan, an item beyond his station, Danzo wouldn’t have bothered to get directly involved.

“Kill him. Make sure you kill him.” Danzo’s voice could not reach the subordinates disappearing into the darkness. But even so, he couldn’t help but give the order.

Regardless of the outcome, Shisui would come here.

Standing on the cliff as promised, Itachi waited alone for the arrival of his friend. The sun had started to sink to the west, and night would press in on him there soon enough. Only a little longer before the meeting started. Most likely, right around that time, Shisui was controlling his father’s thoughts with the power of the Mangekyo sharingan. The meeting would be at least two hours, even if it ran short. He had time. And during that time, Itachi intended to think about what they were going to do from then on.

While they did share the desire to prevent a coup d’état by the clan for the sake of peace in the village, Itachi had always left concrete action to his friend. Shisui had gotten permission from the third Hokage, investigated the movements of the clan on his own, and thought up the current plan. All of it had been Shisui’s work. Itachi had done nothing.

Shisui had said the real fight would start after Fugaku was turned against the coup. And it was unlikely that the hot-blooded younger members of the clan would abruptly turn around just because of his father’s change of heart. The result of Shisui’s action that night would probably be some hesitation, and the postponement of the time for action. But the radicals would regroup and find another path; they would have their coup.

What could they do once they brought his father down? This was the most important thing if they were going to realize their shared ambition. Itachi couldn’t leave everything to Shisui anymore. He had to think long and hard himself. And then, for the first time, he might be on equal footing with Shisui at last.

“Ngh!” Sensing an aura behind him, Itachi whirled around. “Shisui?” he said, stunned. It was too early for his friend to be there.

“Sorry, Itachi.” Blood had spilled down from the closed lids of Shisui’s right eye, and dried on his cheek. He walked past Itachi on unsteady feet to stand on the edge of the cliff.

It was obvious that something bad had happened, and his friend had come to tell him. Itachi simply stayed silent, and waited.

“I failed.”

“What happened to your eye?”

Shisui didn’t answer, but stared out beyond the cliff, silently.

Itachi calmed his impatient heart, desperate to hear his friend’s story.

“I couldn’t even make contact with Lord Fugaku,” Shisui said, finally. “The meeting’s probably starting right about now. They’ll probably decide on the key parts of the coup at the meeting today. Our plan failed.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s over.” My friend’s spirit is broken … “Who got you?”

“Danzo.”

Itachi’s heart began to pound fiercely. In the back of his mind, the face of that treacherous man sprang to life.

“One of his subordinates uses insects, right?” Shisui said.

“Was he wearing a white tiger mask?”

“He dosed me with a poison. There’s no saving me.”

Sugaru. He was an Aburame. They used insects.

“Itachi.” Shisui’s voice was shockingly weak. His friend looked small standing before him, smaller than he had at any other time. Shisui had always run on ahead of Itachi, he had fought alongside him for the sake of the clan, he was basically his older brother, and now the air of death coiled and clung to his back. “It … doesn’t look like there’s any way now to stop the Uchiha coup. If Konohagakure starts fighting itself, other countries will definitely attack … it’ll be war.”

It doesn’t look like there’s any way to stop the coup … Those were words he did not want to hear from Shisui’s mouth. Had his friend given up on everything? Did death make a person that weak and brittle? Itachi, still tied to the realm of life, couldn’t begin to understand what was going on inside Shisui.

“Just when I was about to use Kotoamatsukami, and stop the coup,” Shisui said, looking over his shoulder at Itachi, “Danzo stole my right eye. He doesn’t trust me. He intends to protect the village in his own way, regardless of how it looks.”

Having watched Danzo for many years, Itachi understood. That man trusted no one. Even his old comrade-at-arms, the third Hokage, was suspect somehow.

He protects the village in his own way … Itachi felt a chill run up his spine.

“He probably would’ve taken my left eye too.” Shisui moved his hand toward his still-intact eye. He slipped his fingers into the lids, and tightened his grip. “Before he does, I’m giving it to you.” When he pulled his hand away again, the lids of his left eye were closed, fresh blood streaming from between them.

Shisui’s eyes were Mangekyo sharingan. If he was entrusting this eye to Itachi, it meant that he was giving him permission to use the power lodged in it. The faith his friend had in him made Itachi’s heart hurt.

Shisui … he tried to say, but nothing came out. If he gave voice to his friend’s name, he felt like the tears brimming in his own eyes would spill out. He could not cry in front of another person. Even more so when it was his friend, talking to him like this, prepared for death.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I can ask. This village … the Uchiha name … protect them.”

Face turned to his outthrust palm, Shisui kneaded his chakra. A single bird danced down from empty space, and stopped on his hand. The eye resting in his open palm floated up, covered the bird’s left eye, and merged with it, as if sucked in. Although he could no longer see now that he had lost both eyes, Shisui knew that he had entrusted his eye to his friend, and a smile of relief rose up on his face. Without a glance at him, the bird nodded its head, before flying up into a sky dyed with darkness.

“There’s one more thing I want to give you.” Shisui turned his back to Itachi once more. “But before that, there’s something I want you to know.”

“What?” It was all Itachi could do to get the word out. The words he really wanted to say would not come out: “Don’t die. Don’t give up.”

His friend was prepared to die; these were nothing more than words of convenience. It was pointless to say them. So he didn’t. Even still, Itachi screamed in the depths of his heart.

You can’t die. If you give up, it’s all over. A ninja fights until the end of the end. It’s not over yet.

But Itachi’s cries couldn’t reach his friend.

“I killed my good friend with this hand.”

Good friend? Who is he talking about?

At the sudden confession, Itachi’s thoughts stopped completely.

“It was a little before I met you,” Shisui continued, his voice flat, as if leaving his friend behind.

Itachi couldn’t see the look on his face.

“I met a boy at the academy I could call a friend. He fought alongside me after I became a genin too, on the same team. Back then, he was my best friend—we really trusted each other. But …” Shisui fell silent for a moment. “That didn’t last for even a year.”

The shocking confession continued further.

“This was right after the war ended. Missions were way harsher than they are now. We were in the middle of a mission with a few other teams to clean up after the war, and we ended up by ourselves in another land. Our luck was bad. We ran into more enemies than we could handle. We were staring right at death.”

This tale was from before Itachi became a ninja.

“Fortunately, some of the comrades we got separated from found us. They saved me, but my friend was slow to run. If I had just reached out to him, he wouldn’t have had to die.”

From what Shisui was saying, he had been quite close by when his friend was killed. The difference between life and death was determined by a slight difference in luck, and that bit of luck had divided the two boys. It definitely hadn’t been his fault. But Shisui regretted his friend’s death as if it were a crime he had committed.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No.” Shisui said, as if to cut Itachi off. “I envied that friend. He was blessed with more talent than me. I was jealous of him, always running out in front of me. So that time, I could have reached out my hand. But I deliberately didn’t … I killed him.”

Itachi had never realized darkness like this slept in Shisui’s heart. He was his best friend. What had he been seeing up to that point? He felt dizzy.

“For several months, I was completely destroyed by the fact that I killed him. It was then. When I met you.”

Itachi remembered it clearly. He had been training alone in preparation for his entry into the academy, when Shisui had suddenly appeared. It had been Shisui who asked if they could be friends.

“I watched you, so intently motivated in your training every day, and I just called out to you without thinking. You were always so forward-looking, always running ahead, and spending time with you helped me pick myself up again, bit by bit. I’m really grateful to you.”

I’m the one who’s grateful … 

Of course, the words didn’t come out.

“My friend’s death gave me a new power. That was the Mangekyo sharingan.”

For the nth time, the unexpected blow made Itachi dizzy. Paying no heed to his reeling, Shisui continued.

“Mangekyo sharingan are called up by a power that comes from a fierce emotional blow. Mine were probably awakened by my regret over killing my friend.”

“Regret over killing your friend …”

“Right.”

Itachi had a bad feeling.

“Kill me, Itachi. Then you’ll get the Mangekyo sharingan. And then you’ll get even stronger.”

“That’s—”

“I’m dead either way. So then, it’s better if I die after leaving you that power.”

Itachi felt something hot in his eyes. In his jumbled mind, he couldn’t calmly assess whether it was tears, or the rush of energy presaging the activation of some new power.

“All right—do it, Itachi!”

The words of an older brother to push his little brother forward … Almost staggering, Itachi took a step forward.

“That’s it.”

Something lukewarm, like blood, dampened Itachi’s cheeks. Tears … Stifling his sobs so that Shisui wouldn’t notice, he continued to move forward.

“With your abilities, something like the clan can’t contain you. I mean, knowing you, you’ll even be able to surpass the destiny of the clan. No … ”

“Shisui …”

“I think your abilities could even swallow up the ninja worldview.”

“My abilities?” Only once he heard his voice did Itachi understand that it was trembling. It was the first time he had heard himself weak like this.

“I’m glad I met you.”

Itachi reached trembling arms out toward the back of his best friend.

“I’m counting on you to handle the rest.”

Those were his friend’s last words.

Darkness … 

A pitch-black night without moon or stars. The ebony clouds blanketing the heavens threatened to weep at any moment.

I killed my friend … 

His hands on the ground where Shisui had stood, Itachi was slumped over, motionless. His exhausted body was heavy as lead; his tattered, wounded heart refused to pick up the thread of his thoughts. Tears fell one after another from his eyes, and even the dry feeling in his soul could not stop them. Everything was numb.

No … 

Somewhere in his body, now one with the darkness, something smoldered. On dead earth covered in a layer of ice, small sparks crackled and burned. As if seeking out that faint warmth, Itachi dove into his own heart.

There. Two sparks. One in each eye.

In his wounded, exhausted heart, he held them.

Fwoosh.

In the blink of an eye, the sparks became massive flames, and enveloped his entire body. His eyes, the core of the blaze, were hot like magma.

“I did get it, Shisui.” A brilliant crimson light shone in his still-weeping eyes. “I promise you. I will stop the clan.”

Itachi let the voice of his heart ride on the darkness, with a prayer that it would reach the land of the dead.