*Waterfall Village*
The morning air was crisp, cool enough to sting the lungs but bright with the promise of day. The forest was alive with birdsong, shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy in scattered gold.
Sasuke stood in the middle of a small clearing, facing a row of tall trees. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, though the day had barely begun. His chest rose and fell sharply as he gathered chakra into the soles of his feet. His brows furrowed, his jaw set—every muscle in his young body taut with stubborn resolve.
With a burst of breath, he sprinted forward.
His sandals slapped against the base of the trunk, chakra clinging to the bark. Step one—solid. Step two—wobbly, but held. On the third step, his chakra wavered. The bark splintered beneath his foot with a sharp crack, and in an instant his balance gave out.
Sasuke dropped hard onto the ground. The impact jarred his bones, the breath rushing out of him in a single grunt. He landed on his side, dust scattering around him, bits of bark clinging to his clothes.
He didn't stay down. Not even a second. His pride wouldn't allow it. His small hands pressed against the dirt, and he pushed himself up, lips pressed into a thin, furious line.
Again.
He launched himself at the tree once more, this time more carefully. He tried to temper the chakra, hold it steady instead of flooding it all at once. His sandals slapped against the bark, carrying him five… six steps up. His face lit with fierce determination, but just as quickly, it broke—the chakra slipped, and the boy's foot lost its grip. He fell, tumbling down in a heap. His shoulder struck the ground, and he hissed through clenched teeth.
His palms were scraped raw. His knees stung. Sweat dripped into his eyes and blurred his vision. He stood again, his breath sharp and shallow, and his fists trembled—not from fear, but from rage at himself.
He glared at the tree, as if daring it to defy him again. His heart hammered, but there was no thought of stopping.
Again.
High above, half-hidden in the shade of another tree, Shisui crouched on a branch. His dark eyes followed every motion, every stumble, every fall. His face revealed nothing—no words escaped his lips. He simply watched, his silence heavy and still.
Sasuke's small figure, relentless in his struggle, reminded him of things he couldn't bring himself to say aloud. So he said nothing. He let the boy fight alone, as he wanted.
The forest swallowed the sound of Sasuke's repeated attempts. The scrape of sandals, the crash of each fall, the ragged breathing—all of it became a rhythm. A stubborn rhythm. One that refused to break.
By mid-morning, Shisui had left the clearing. He moved deeper into the woods, the hush of a narrow stream guiding him. A patch of light broke through the canopy, laying silver across the water. There, standing motionless at the edge of the bank, was Itachi.
The younger man's posture was as composed as ever, but Shisui knew better. He could see the heaviness in the way Itachi's shoulders were held, the faint stiffness in his breathing.
Itachi turned as Shisui approached, and without preamble, he reached into his cloak. When his hand emerged, it carried a small necklace—a fully rounded pendant of polished metal, the Uchiha clan crest engraved sharply into its face, hanging from a special dark thread. Sunlight caught the edges of the carving, making the symbol gleam faintly.
Shisui's eyes narrowed slightly. "…That pendant…"
Itachi looked down at it, his gaze unreadable, though something deep and unsteady stirred behind his eyes. His voice was low when he spoke.
"Mother gave it to me. The night before everything. She told me it was for Sasuke… for his birthday. Today."
The words hung heavy in the air, sinking deep into the quiet of the forest.
"At the time, I thought it was nothing more than a gift. Just a keepsake, a piece of sentiment for him to carry when he grew older." Itachi's thumb brushed over the crest, lingering there. "I felt nothing from it—no chakra, no seal. For me, it was only metal. Ordinary. I didn't think twice about it."
His gaze hardened, shadows flickering across his face.
"But after the scroll… after seeing what Mother truly hid within her work… I realize how blind I was. If she crafted this pendant for Sasuke, then it isn't ordinary. I believe… it will only reveal itself in his hands."
Shisui stared at the necklace. To him, it was as Itachi described—polished, round, engraved with their clan's proud crest, but otherwise unremarkable. Yet the way Itachi held it, the faint tremor in his voice, gave it a weight far beyond metal.
"And she gave it to you," Shisui said, "to pass on to him."
Itachi's lips pressed into a thin line. For the briefest moment, his composure cracked, his voice raw.
"She trusted me. She asked me to give it to him today. His birthday. And I… I didn't. I failed her. Like I failed everything else."
The necklace swayed between his fingers, catching the sunlight once more.
Itachi extended it slowly, his hand steady despite the storm behind his eyes.
"I can't give it to him now. Not after everything I've done. You, Shisui… give it to him. Today. Make sure he receives it, as she wished."
For a moment, Shisui didn't move. Then he stepped forward, his hand closing gently around the necklace. It was cool in his palm, smooth and perfectly round. For him, there was no pulse, no warmth, no chakra. Just metal.
But Shisui knew. He knew Mikoto's love was buried in this gift, sealed in a way only Sasuke could ever touch.
He looked up at Itachi, his voice low but firm.
"I'll keep her promise. He'll have it today."
The necklace gleamed faintly in the morning light, as though the sun itself acknowledged the weight of the vow.
**End of chapter 11**