*Waterfall Village*
The night clung to the forest like a secret. Stars glimmered faintly above, veiled by drifting clouds, while the shadows of the trees stretched long across the earth. In the clearing, Sasuke lay asleep on his bedding, his small body curled in quiet exhaustion. His hand rested unconsciously on his chest, fingers curled over the plain pendant that now hung around his neck. The crest it once bore was gone, erased in a burst of crimson light. But even in its altered form, it pulsed faintly, a warmth against his skin as though his mother's touch lingered there still.
From the treeline, unseen, a lone figure stood.
Itachi.
His Mangekyou spun faintly in the dark, drinking in every detail of his younger brother—the gentle rise and fall of Sasuke's breathing, the soft contours of his boyish face, the faint stubborn set of his jaw even in sleep. Itachi's lips parted, but no words came. None could. He only watched, silently, as though trying to carve the sight into memory.
At last, his eyes closed. The Mangekyou dimmed, and his body turned, cloak brushing the earth as he stepped away. His path stretched into the dark, toward Akatsuki. Toward a future he could not share with Sasuke.
He did not look back.
Another figure lingered still.
Shisui had felt Itachi's presence the whole night, had watched the same silent farewell unfold. His chest ached with the weight of it, but he did not follow. He stayed. Because if Itachi chose the shadows, then someone had to remain in the light.
His gaze lowered to the weapon in his hand.
The dagger still hummed faintly with Sasuke's chakra, alive in a way only chakra metal could allow. The faint Uchiha crest etched near the hilt caught the moonlight, bright and sharp. Shisui's jaw tightened. It wasn't just a symbol. To the wrong eyes, it was a mark, a target, a curse.
From inside his cloak, he pulled a coil of black thread. It was shinobi wire—unyielding, strong, meant to cut and bind. Patiently, he wound it around the hilt, layer after careful layer, until the crest disappeared beneath the weave. His hands were steady, though his chest felt heavy.
When the last knot was tied, he held the dagger a moment longer, thumb pressing against the thread-bound hilt. His voice was a whisper, almost prayer.
"No one should see the crest," he murmured.
The dagger slid back into its sheath. Shisui let the forest reclaim him, vanishing into shadow as the boy slept on, unaware.
Morning broke with the sharp cries of birds and the golden spill of sunlight through the canopy.
Sasuke stood at the training ground, already drenched in sweat. His bare feet pressed hard against the bark of a tall tree, his small frame tense with effort as he climbed steadily upward. His chakra clung to the trunk, his hands stretched for balance, jaw locked tight.
Step by step, he pushed higher until his heel slammed against the highest mark he had set the day before. He froze. His balance held.
For a moment he could only stare. Then he pushed off, landing lightly on the dirt below. His chest heaved, sweat dripping down his brow, but his eyes shone with something rare—pride.
Tree walking—complete.
From the shade, Shisui leaned against a trunk, watching silently. He didn't cheer. He didn't call out. He only smiled faintly, approval in his eyes that Sasuke didn't need to hear to understand.
But the next step waited.
"Now comes water walking," Shisui said, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but his eyes held weight. "It's harder. Balance matters more than raw strength. If you let your chakra overflow…" He gestured toward the river. "You'll sink."
Sasuke gave a quick nod, determination sparking. He marched to the water's edge, set his jaw, and stepped forward.
The river swallowed him instantly.
A splash echoed through the clearing as Sasuke disappeared beneath the surface, only to resurface seconds later, sputtering, hair plastered to his face. His glare was sharp enough to cut, though it was met with Shisui's quiet chuckle.
But Shisui's eyes—his Mangekyou—flickered briefly. And what he saw was no joke.
Sasuke's chakra roared like a storm, flooding outward without precision. It was wild, untamed, massive—far beyond what any boy his age should wield. Mikoto's safeguard burned bright in him, a blessing and a burden both.
Sasuke dragged himself back onto the bank, fists clenched. His teeth ground together as he muttered, "Again."
Shisui smiled faintly, but his voice carried an edge of steel. "Good. But remember this—power without control will drown you. Learn to guide it, or it will crush you."
Sasuke didn't answer. He only turned back to the river, eyes alight with fire.
Sasuke's mornings began before dawn. His small frame appeared in the clearing like clockwork, every step of his routine etched deeper into the earth. The trees bore the scars of his relentless climbing, bark shredded where he had tested and retested his balance. The river splashed day after day with his failures, each fall a lesson, each climb back to the bank another vow.
Shisui guided him where he faltered, steady as stone. He corrected a stance, stilled a trembling hand, or simply watched in silence, his presence anchoring Sasuke's fury when frustration threatened to consume him.
The pendant at Sasuke's chest pulsed with every surge, a constant reminder of his mother's gift. At first it hindered him—his chakra too vast, too wild—but slowly, through grit and stubborn fire, he began to bend it. To guide it.
*One Month Time skip*
A month passed beneath the turn of sun and moon.
At last, Sasuke stood atop the river, his small frame balanced perfectly. The water rippled gently beneath his soles, but it held. His chakra flowed evenly now, steady and sure, the wild storm tamed to a river he could command.
From the shore, Shisui watched. His arms were folded, his expression calm, but pride flickered in his eyes. In Sasuke's steady stance, he saw more than progress. He saw the shape of something dangerous, something extraordinary.
And for the first time in weeks, Shisui allowed himself a thought he had buried too deep to speak.
You're ready for more.
**End of chapter 13**