Sasuke suddenly threw himself into Itachi's embrace, burying his little face in his clothes and rubbing against them. His hair brushed against Itachi's stomach, carrying a slight chill from the snow.
"Nii-san, why are you here?"
Sasuke's soft, sticky voice still carried a slight pant. The tail end sounded like it had been soaked in warm water. It was completely different from the tone he used when speaking to Naruto just moments ago, it was like night and day.
The contrast before and after was immense.
Itachi looked down at Sasuke clinging to his chest and raised his hand to gently poke his forehead with his fingertip, an action he had performed countless times, as familiar as breathing.
It was utterly different from the heavy force Makoto always used. It was as light as touching fragile glass, afraid that the slightest pressure would leave a crack.
"Sorry, Sasuke. Go home with Shisui-nii first."
"I still have matters to attend to. I'll play with you after I'm done. Be good."
Hearing this, Sasuke's little mouth instantly jutted out with a pout. His small brows knitted into a knot. The fingers clutching Itachi's clothes tightened, his knuckles turning white.
But he ultimately didn't throw a tantrum like an ordinary child. He just buried his face deeper into Itachi's chest, so sensible it made one's heart ache.
Itachi helplessly curved the corner of his mouth and shot a glance at Shisui's shadow clone beside him.
As close friends with perfect tacit understanding, Shisui's shadow clone instantly understood Itachi's meaning.
He bent down, picked up Sasuke, and deliberately used a cheerful tone: "I'll carry you home, Sasuke. I'll play with you later."
"I don't want you to play with me!"
Sasuke snorted lightly.
But looking at Itachi's serious profile, Sasuke could only nod obediently. His small head rested on Shisui's shadow clone's shoulder, but his black, grape-like pupils remained glued to Itachi's direction.
Only when the street corner cut that figure in half did he reluctantly withdraw his gaze.
Once their figures completely disappeared at the road's end, the gentleness on Itachi's face instantly faded, like mist scattered by a cold wind, leaving only anxiety churning in his eyes.
The moment he turned, his black figure had already become an afterimage. The tips of his toes lightly touched the snow, and his whole figure shot forward like an arrow from a bow, speeding towards the direction of Makoto and Shisui's main body.
The cold wind lifted the hem of his clothes, the stirred snowflakes spinning in mid-air like countless fine silver stars, swallowed up in an instant.
Outside the small grove, the Anbu and Root's members in the shadows, seeing Itachi and Shisui's retreating backs one after another, simultaneously slumped their tense shoulders.
Almost in unison, they let out a long sigh, the white vapor condensing into brief clouds in the cold air.
If they could avoid it, they really didn't want to fight these two one-on-one. Wasn't living better? No one wanted to die for no reason, even Anbu and Root were no exception.
Especially Shisui, this Uchiha Clan's genius was simply a complete monster.
In the end, only a few Shinobi remained on site to 'protect' the Kyubi's Jinchuriki. The rest instantly melted into the shadows of the streets and alleys, their steps even faster than before, each returning to report.
…
Meanwhile, after gathering all the information he could currently obtain, Makoto leaned casually on a bench on Konoha's main street, pinching the last dango between his fingertips.
The rich, sweet flavor melted on his tongue. He lazily swung his legs, the soles of his shoes grinding over frozen ice shards, making light crunching sounds, like a casual accompaniment to the snow-filled sky.
'I wonder if the Clan Head has started working on what he promised me? Who will he introduce as my childhood sweetheart?'
Thinking this, the corner of Makoto's mouth lifted slightly. He tapped his fingers on his knee, the anticipation in his heart warm like freshly cooked food.
'The Uchiha Clan's looks were always top-tier in the Shinobi World. Surely Fugaku wouldn't disappoint me.'
After pondering for a moment, he brushed the snowflakes off his shoulders and stood up. Thinking about it, Makoto decided to go to the flower shop to buy a bouquet. He couldn't go empty-handed for the first meeting, as a sense of ceremony was important.
As the old saying goes, flowers complement beauties. Buying a bouquet as a gesture couldn't go wrong. Anyway, he could charge it to Fugaku's account. Even if he bought out the entire flower shop, it wouldn't cost him a single ryo.
Makoto stuffed his hands in his pockets and ambled leisurely towards the flower shop. From quite a distance, his peripheral vision caught a boy wearing thick glasses.
The boy looked to be around ten years old. His eyes behind the thick glasses were like a frightened fawn, full of wariness.
But when his gaze swept over the bouquet of white carnations adorned with dewdrops in the flower shop, that wariness instantly melted like residual snow under the spring sun, flowing into a thick, un-meltable longing. Even his eyelashes trembled slightly.
Makoto recognized him at a glance, thinking inwardly: 'Isn't this the future 'Dream Fulfillment Master', Yakushi Kabuto?"
'Judging by his appearance, he had clearly already fallen into the dark quagmire of Root.'
'That old geezer, Shimura Danzo, lived up to his reputation as the 'Darkness of the Shinobi World'. He did nothing remotely humane, but was involved in every shady trick and deceitful scheme.'
Kabuto's gaze seemed magnetically stuck, firmly glued to that bouquet of carnations.
The water droplets rolling on the petals were exactly like the light in Mother Director, Yakushi Nono's, eyes when she smiled, so gentle it could drown a person.
He wanted to buy them, to give them to Mother Director...
This thought had just surfaced when Kabuto ruthlessly crushed it in his heart, his knuckles turning white, as if stamping out a spark about to start a prairie fire.
He subconsciously touched the glasses on his nose bridge. The small character 'Kabuto' carved on the inside of the temple was polished shiny by his fingertips.
Even his name was given by Nono. Though not his biological mother, she was more than a mother to him.
Since he 'voluntarily' walked into Root's dark, damp underground passages to become a spy who couldn't see the light, he was no longer himself.
At least, he was no longer the smiling Yakushi Kabuto from the orphanage...
'Things were so much better before.'
Kabuto couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
As a child, injured and amnesiac on the battlefield, he was like a helpless leaf, likely to die at any moment. It was Nono who healed him, brought him back to the orphanage, gave him a home, gave him a name.
Those were the happiest years of his life so far.
He still remembered thinking back then, if he could stay by Nono's side forever, earn more money for the orphanage,
And take care of the younger brothers and sisters in the future, just like the older brothers and sisters had taken care of him before, how wonderful that life would be.
The snow back then seemed much gentler than it is now.
But everything changed when Danzo appeared at the orphanage gate with Root's members...