Inside Uchiha Fugaku's study.
Uchiha Itachi was about to drop a glacier-cold truth bomb on the old man who always looked like he had the whole damn world in his pocket.
He was wrong.
Dead-ass wrong.
"Makoto's dead."
Three words hissed through clenched teeth; no warmth, just sucked the life outta Itachi like a vampire. Left him a hollow shell.
"No way in hell!"
Fugaku's pupils shrank to pinpricks. He lurched forward, damn near yellin'. His Mangekyo Sharingan had peeked future scraps; Makoto wasn't supposed to flame out this quick! That kid was destined for…
"Ah!"
Itachi let out a laugh colder than a Chicago winter; dripping sarcasm and bone-deep grief.
If Fugaku hadn't strong-armed the hothead clan elders and shut down the Cloud rescue op…
Makoto might still be breathin'. Wouldn't have rotted a full damn year in who-knows-what hell.
Seein' Fugaku's flash of shock and denial? Didn't soothe shit. Felt like pourin' scaldin' oil on Itachi's frozen rage; guts twistin' like a blender.
"I watched him die with my own eyes."
Voice flat as a gravestone; like he was readin' yesterday's weather.
Only the raw agony buried in his eyes betrayed the calm; rippin' through the mask.
"How?" Fugaku's knuckles went white on the scroll; edges crackin'.
"Burned every last drop of chakra savin' my sorry ass."
Each syllable a ice-pick to his own heart; and a sledgehammer to the old man's.
"Body?"
Fugaku clingin' to that last thread of hope.
"Gone."
Itachi squeezed his eyes shut; lashes castin' shadows like bars. Opened 'em to a wasteland stare.
"Passed out cold… Shisui couldn't hold onto the body."
Dead air. Thicker than fog. Just ragged breathin' bouncin' off walls. Nobody dared speak.
Fugaku went mute; eyes unfocused on some ghost point in space. The legendary Uchiha eyesight? Clouded over like cheap sunglasses.
He slumped back in the chair; stone-face patriarch cracked wide open for the first time.
Dude was even second-guessin' his own Mangekyo future-sight; foundation shakin' like a Jenga tower in an earthquake.
"Yeah… if Makoto wasn't really gone… my perfect little soldier son wouldn't look this broken."
That icy realization doused the last flicker of hope; colder than Siberian runoff.
Eons later, Itachi spoke again; voice gravel-rough, but steel-cut final.
"I want everything. Every dirty secret the village brass is hidin'."
"All you know. All you don't know but might exist."
Fugaku jolted like a kunai to the spine. Eyes snapped up; sharp again, drillin' into Itachi with suspicion and dread.
"Why the hell do you need that?"
Voice spiked; anger and begging mixed.
"You fixin' to walk the same coup road as the elders? Straight into the abyss?"
Itachi met the stare head-on. No dodge. No answer.
Just sat there; stubborn as concrete, eyes black holes swallowin' light.
Silence can scream louder than any words.
Fugaku's heart sank. A wild but logical guess hit him like a truck.
"You… opened the Mangekyo too?!"
Long pause. Itachi's voice finally came; soaked in despair and numb acceptance.
"Yeah… unlocked these cursed-ass eyes."
He exhaled like the world was on his shoulders. "Price? Losin' my baby brother for good."
Eyes shut. Opened. Black drowned in blood-red. Intricate, creepy Mangekyo pattern spun slow.
Beautiful in a "don't stare too long or you're cursed" way.
Fugaku stared at eyes that mirrored his own pain but wore a different scar. Words choked in his throat.
Father and son locked in a stare-down inside that suffocatin' room; silence stretchin' into forever.
Outside, night was thick as tar; splattered across the sky like a bad omen for the Uchiha; hell, for the whole damn Leaf. Storm's brewin'. The longer the quiet, the nastier the boom.
Same inky night, miles from Konoha; deep in some godforsaken forest.
Ancient trees tangled like drunk spiders; moonlight shredded into sad little puddles on the ground.
In that pitch-black hush, a slim, deadly silhouette ghosted through; faster than should be legal, quieter than a whisper.
She moved like a night-born elf; or a demon pickin' its next meal. Toes barely kissed slick branches; every leap blended with wind and leaves. Zero noise.
Face hidden behind a Root-issue mask; blank as a serial killer's smile.
Black skintight catsuit hugged every curve; blockin' the cold but showcasin' a body that could stop traffic. Fabric stretched over full, bouncin' assets up top; cinched a waist you could span with two hands but tough as Kevlar.
Mid-leap, the suit outlined long, powerful legs and a peach-perfect ass; flashin' like a lethal tease. Pure visual dynamite.
Even at breakneck speed on a do-or-die mission, her moves stayed elegant; years of brutal training turned into art. Apex predator; gorgeous, graceful, deadly.
This was Konoha Root's top-tier spy; codename "Walkin' Witch."
Also the sweet, smiley orphanage director who made every kid feel safe; Yakushi Nonou.
Two lives in one skin; total mindfuck contrast.
But for over a year? Kids hadn't seen their mama bear.
All 'cause Danzo's stone-face ass cut the orphanage funds with an ice-cold threat.
To keep those orphans fed, Nonou dusted off the Root mask and dove back into the dark.
Mission: infiltrate Cloud, confirm Uchiha Makoto's status after the envoy "kidnappin'," and snag him for Root if possible.
First hearin' the order? Felt like drownin'.
Then the name Uchiha Makoto hit. Her star kid, Kabuto, had gushed about the Uchiha who yanked him outta Root's hell.
Debt to Kabuto = debt to her.
She ain't one to owe life-savin' favors.
She could guess the nightmare waitin' for a Sharingan-rich teen in enemy hands; forced growth, caged like a lab rat, squeezed dry.
Complicated feels boiled down to a silent sigh. She shelved the orphanage mama role and slipped into Cloud like smoke.
Reality? Way harder than the brochure.
Makoto was under tighter lockdown than the jinchuriki. Raikage's elite ANBU rotated shifts, plus two Cloud golden girls glued to his hip; "caretakers" my ass. VIP soft-cell prison.
For over a year, she'd been a legit phantom; slinkin' through Cloud's shadows, scrapin' every crumb of intel on the kid.
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American TV Series: Young Sheldon mike edition