On the rooftop of the Hokage Tower.
The wind and snow carried a biting chill into their collars, wailing like a mournful sob in their ears.
When Itachi heard Hiruzen inquire about Makoto's talent, his pupils constricted to pinpoints, and his knuckles turned white.
Seeing this, the smile on Hiruzen's face faded slightly. A complex emotion flashed in his eyes, gone in an instant, like a lake's surface obscured by snow mist, impossible to see clearly.
Itachi's expression became troubled, his brows knitting together. He didn't want to lie to Hiruzen, but Makoto's talent was simply too monstrous.
Even Fugaku often said in private, "Makoto is the only variable that can change the Uchiha Clan's future destiny."
"Some lights are too bright, they are destined to be targeted by rats in the gutter." Makoto's words from the past suddenly echoed in Itachi's ears. He had said this while teasing Sasuke.
Itachi certainly wasn't suspecting Hiruzen, but he feared the Hokage Advisor, Shimura Danzo, might find out.
The conflict twisted around his heart like vines, making it hard to breathe.
He was caught in deep turmoil when he suddenly remembered how, over half a year ago, Makoto would rather doubt the entire world than doubt him.
He had even awakened his Sharingan at two and a half years old due to extreme pain.
During the Hokage Rock incident, Makoto was willing to pay with his life just to make Itachi see Konoha's darkness...
"He..." Itachi opened his mouth, snow landing on his lips, cold as ice. "Makoto is a child with average talent, just a bit mischievous and precocious."
As the words fell, Itachi's throat bobbed, his expression full of pain. He had lied... to the Sandaime Hokage, whom he respected most in his heart.
Makoto often spoke ill of Hiruzen, but Itachi never believed it.
In his heart, Hiruzen was the lamp guiding all Konoha's people, the existence he respected most.
Seeing this, Hiruzen's gaze lingered on Itachi's face for a moment, as if weighing an uncut piece of jade. Finally, he sighed softly inwardly.
'Itachi was excellent in every way, except he valued the bond between brothers too much, unable to burn wholeheartedly for the Will of Fire.'
'It seemed the intensity of the upcoming 'Will of Fire' lessons needed to be increased further.'
The wind and snow, carrying pure white flakes, rushed towards them, lifting the hems of their clothes, rustling sharply, like the sound of countless weapons cutting through the air.
Itachi stood at the highest point of the Hokage Tower, looking out at the vast whiteness of Konoha.
The snow fell heavier, the sky and earth merging into a single sheet of white, indistinguishable where the edge was, where the abyss lay.
Hiruzen looked at Itachi's tense profile, then suddenly revealed a warm smile, like an old chrysanthemum blooming. He didn't press further, just patted his shoulder meaningfully.
"Go on, be careful. If you have any difficulties, tell me anytime. Come chat with this old man when you have time."
Hearing this, Itachi nodded slightly. When he turned to leave, his steps felt heavy. The accumulated snow reached his ankles, obscuring the path beneath his feet. His vision was a field of white, obscuring the path ahead.
The conflict between his clan and the village grew increasingly intense, making every step feel like walking a tightrope, where the slightest misstep could plunge him into an abyss.
Itachi didn't take another mission, nor did he return home. Instead, he turned towards Shisui's residence.
Hiruzen suddenly asking about Makoto's talent was like a thorn piercing his heart, making him restless.
…
Shisui was sitting on the corridor under the eaves, watching the snow.
The kunai in his hand spun rapidly, its silver blade reflecting the snowy light, dazzling to the eye. The rhythm of his knuckles tapping the kunai strangely matched the frequency of the dripping eaves.
Seeing Itachi approach from afar, his nose twitched, and his eyes lit up, as if holding two stars: "Itachi! Such a cold day, why aren't you at home playing with your brothers?"
"Or is it that you have no money for dango again?"
Hearing this, the tips of Itachi's ears instantly turned red. The money he earned from recent missions, along with all his previous savings, had been given to his money-loving younger brother, often leaving him penniless.
Even occasionally wanting to eat dango required borrowing from Shisui.
However, Itachi never tired of it. Although he didn't know what Makoto needed so much money for, every time Makoto received the money, he would praise Itachi.
One had to know that Makoto rarely praised anyone. Each compliment made Itachi happy for a long time.
He even felt a bit happy now, but this happiness was soon washed away by his current worries. Itachi stepped forward, snow powder splashing from his soles.
"Shisui, about Makoto's talent, please don't tell anyone outside the clan, especially the Hokage Advisor, Danzo-sama."
Itachi got straight to the point, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible anxiety.
Hearing this, Shisui blinked, scratching the back of his head with a blank expression. The kunai clattered onto the corridor, rolling half a foot away.
"Isn't high talent a good thing?" Shisui scratched his head, continuing on his own, "If Sandaime-sama and Danzo-sama knew, they would definitely focus on nurturing Makoto."
As he spoke, Shisui leaned closer, his tone extremely serious: "Makoto's talent is so high, so if reported, he might even directly enter the Anbu or Root for advanced training…"
"No!" Hearing this, Itachi's voice suddenly rose, losing its usual composure. He hurriedly lowered his voice, his knuckles turning white, his breathing becoming uneven.
"Makoto is still too young, and Root... Danzo-sama, he..."
Looking at Shisui's still confused expression, Itachi suddenly remembered Makoto's evaluation of Shisui.
"This guy means no harm, he's just missing a screw, his head filled with all kinds of unrealistic fantasies."
He was excellent as either a friend or an enemy, but being his teammate was a sorrowful thing.
He had thought the evaluation was exaggerated at the time, but now he felt Makoto's words held some truth...
Who in the entire Uchiha Clan didn't know there was bad blood between Makoto and Danzo?
And yet, Shisui was thinking of sending Makoto to Root, which was controlled by Danzo. Was he really not afraid Makoto would end up 'committing suicide' with eighteen kunai in his back?
"In short, don't tell anyone." Itachi's voice carried a plea, he even bent slightly at the waist, his bangs falling forward, hiding the emotion in his eyes. "This is my request."
Seeing this, Shisui was taken aback. Seeing Itachi's grave expression, unlike a joke, although he didn't understand why they needed to hide it, he still nodded, picked up the kunai from the ground, and started spinning it again.
The silver kunai flipped rapidly between his fingers, leaving afterimages: "Alright, I'll listen to you."
As he spun the kunai, he couldn't help but mutter: "But honestly, if Makoto entered the Anbu or Root for proper training now, he'd definitely be stronger than all of us in the future."
"He might even become Hokage one day."
Hearing this, Itachi didn't respond, just looked at the white snow outside the window.
Snowflakes fell in large sheets, as if wanting to bury all of Konoha in snow, even the outline of the distant Hokage Rock blurred.
Perhaps Makoto was right, and Konoha's darkness was deeper than he imagined.
The lantern under the eaves swayed, its warm yellow light casting shifting spots on the snow, like dancing flames.
Itachi clenched his fists, his knuckles white, not even noticing his nails digging into his palms.
No matter what, he had to protect Makoto and Sasuke, guard this warm light that had finally ignited within the darkness.
Shisui looked at Itachi's tense profile, smiled, tucked the kunai into his tool pouch, and patted Itachi's shoulder.
"Come on, I'll treat you to dango, hot ones! Straight out of the pot!"
When Itachi looked up, he saw the light in Shisui's eyes, like charcoal fire in the snow, pure and fervent.
…
Night, inside the Uchiha Clan's Clan Head's residence.
The lanterns under the corridor swayed in the night wind, casting warm yellow halos. Large snowflakes swirled down into the courtyard, accumulating a thin layer of white snow on the bluestone path, crunching softly underfoot.
Makoto leaned against the carved wooden railing. Shiro in his arms buried its face in his pure white haori, its fluffy tail tip occasionally brushing his wrist, the snowflakes clinging to it feeling cool against his skin.
Icicles from the eaves fell from time to time, landing in the snowdrifts with a dull thud, startling the night birds huddled on the branches into flapping flight, the snow powder stirred by their wings dusting his shoulders.
Makoto gazed into the distance towards the Hokage Rock, musing inwardly: 'This winter is anything but peaceful, a winter of troubles...'
'Kumogakure coming to sign a ceasefire is just a pretext, while probing Konoha's true state is the real goal. And there's a 'power' not belonging to the Shinobi World that will descend upon Konoha.'
'It's time to go out for a stroll. Chaos is the best ladder for progress.'
The corner of Makoto's mouth lifted slightly, his deep black pupils reflecting the snow-filled sky… it was the excitement for the unknown, the anticipation of gradually breaking the deadlock.
As he turned and walked towards the study, the hem of his haori swept past the corridor pillar, the wind it raised scattering the shadow cast by the candlelight on the wall.
Pushing the door open, he found Fugaku frowning at a Military Police Force's scroll, the candlelight casting deep lines on his profile.
"Clan Head, it's been over half a year since I left the compound. I plan to go out for a stroll."
During these past months, although Fugaku forbade Makoto from leaving the compound, stopping the Makoto who had mastered the S-Rank Space-Time Ninjutsu, Flying Thunder God Technique was far beyond Fugaku's ability.
Makoto occasionally left the compound to stroll around the village, leaving dense Flying Thunder God's marks all over Konoha. He was merely here to inform Fugaku.
Whether Fugaku agreed or not was unimportant and irrelevant. Makoto was just here to exchange a few words and bicker with him.
Hearing this, Fugaku's brows instantly knitted together. The wolf-hair brush in his hand thumped onto the scroll, a small blot of ink spreading.
He had just started thinking the kid had settled down recently, believing he had matured and become sensible. It seemed he had celebrated too soon.
---
FOR EVERY 50 POWER STONES, I'LL UPLOAD ONE CHAPTER