Facing Uchiha Duan's request for advice—
"Because unlike the Third Hokage, I see the potential in Uchiha."
At this moment—
Danzo's voice became steady yet firm. He stretched out his left hand toward Duan in an inviting gesture, speaking with deliberate sincerity:
"Duan, you should join Anbu alongside Itachi. Konoha needs capable shinobi like you. Not every leader believes Uchiha should be suppressed."
Duan's gaze flickered as if considering it seriously.
Danzo saw the hesitation and pressed the offer further:
"In Anbu, you'll sharpen your skills and gain influence. I can recommend you to the Third Hokage himself—make you an Anbu sub-captain, partnered with Itachi. Isn't that the kind of position you'd want?"
"So, what's the cost?" Duan asked.
"It's simple—you need only trust me, as Itachi does." Danzo's eyes locked onto his, voice weighted on the word trust.
Duan inhaled slowly and replied with apparent admiration:
"Danzo-sama, your boldness and vision command respect. Joining Anbu is tempting indeed. I truly... only need to trust you?"
"Of course," Danzo said evenly, asking for nothing else.
In truth—once Duan stepped into Anbu, his unpredictable personality would eventually offer Danzo the leverage to control him.
After a pause, Duan's lips parted as if to accept—
But then his chin lifted, and his eyes narrowed with a cold glint.
"However, I refuse."
"Why?!" Danzo's composure cracked, his voice rising.
"Because one thing we Uchiha enjoy most—" Duan said, lifting Itachi to his feet, "—is rejecting arrogant superiors. That alone makes my day. Also, I don't like hiding behind masks like your men do."
Thud!
Danzo gripped his cane and stood. "Are you certain you won't regret this, Uchiha Duan?"
"Sorry, my nephew's unwell. I'll be taking him home."
Duan stepped toward the exit with Itachi, but—
Whoosh
The Aburame Ryoma blocked the way without speaking. Outside, Root operatives shifted, hands resting on hilts.
The killing intent in the air sharpened.
Duan's gaze chilled—if they pushed him, he might very well end it here and now.
Danzo's voice cut through the tension: "Let them go."
Ryoma stepped aside.
Duan strode out, his nephew in tow. Watched by silent Root shinobi, they vanished into the night.
"Danzo-sama, what's our move regarding Uchiha Duan?" Ryoma asked, knowing Danzo's silence meant calculation.
As expected—
Danzo's eyes darkened. "We already have operatives shadowing the Third. Ensure your squad's work leaves no trace."
If Duan could not be controlled, he was a liability. A commoner without formal shinobi rank—removing him would cause little uproar.
"I understand," Ryoma replied.
"Hmph." Danzo tapped his cane and left surrounded by guards.
---
On the street—
Itachi walked, one hand against the wall, still pale.
Duan stepped into a convenience store, bought water, and handed it over.
"Thank you, Uncle." Itachi drank deeply, rinsing his mouth. But his gaze was grave: "Uncle, if you offend Danzo, he will not forgive it."
Duan waved it off. "Worry about yourself. Stay away from him—he doesn't strike me as the benevolent type."
"...Understood," Itachi replied, though inwardly thinking his uncle wasn't exactly a paragon either.
Seeing Itachi still hunched, Duan sighed, crouched, and offered his back.
Itachi hesitated, then climbed on.
Besides Shisui, no one else had ever carried him. Duan's back felt broader, steadier—almost like lying on a bed.
They neared the Uchiha district—
"Itachi, is that you?"
A girl's voice rang from a side street.
Itachi turned. Under a lamppost stood a pretty kunoichi with long black hair and a tear mole beneath her right eye, a Konoha forehead protector gleaming.
"Izumi..." Itachi greeted softly.
Duan glanced over. "Pretty girl. Your girlfriend?"
Izumi flushed, fingers twisting.
Itachi quickly muttered, "No, Uncle."
"I'm kidding. Puppy love doesn't bother me." Duan set Itachi down and stepped toward her. "I'm Duan Uchiha, Itachi's uncle."
"Ah… hello, Senior Duan." Izumi bowed politely.
Then, without warning, the air around Duan shifted—murderous intent poured out like ice water, slamming into Izumi.
Her reflexes snapped—hair on end, she leapt back, kunai in hand, eyes flashing into scarlet triple tomoe.
"Impressive. A genius kunoichi too," Duan said, letting the killing intent vanish as quickly as it came.
Izumi froze, unsure if she'd imagined it.
"Itachi," Duan murmured, "explain."
Itachi said quietly, "Izumi awakened her Sharingan during the Nine-Tails' attack—she was only five, and saw her parents die."
"A tragic thing," Duan sighed.
He remembered—Izumi, Itachi's half-lover, would one day die at Obito's hands during the clan's massacre. At only 11, she'd already reached triple tomoe. Had she lived, she might have become a jōnin in a few years—perhaps even awaken the Mangekyō.
So much potential, so many futures—cut short.