"Gods and demons, white gods and black demons, and their children from mortals—heroes and monsters, each of whom considers himself a hero and everyone else monsters, ready to prove their truth by any means… It's so natural. Unfortunately…"
© Henry Lyon Oldi
Following the medics' advice, Itachi spent the whole day in bed.
Sarada brought him breakfast and lunch in his room, helped him get up and eat. Uncle was still as curt and dry, but something subtly changed in their interactions. Itachi looked at her differently: not detached and thoughtful, but more like at Sasuke. A gentle tenderness awakened in his black eyes, and warmth spread through her body from each casual glance from her uncle. That fragile bond formed on the veranda before the mission hadn't broken; it had only grown stronger.
Sarada told him about the conversation with grandfather and waited with trepidation for his response, but Itachi wasn't surprised or scared.
"It's fine," he said. "You have the skills of a strong genin, even though Father thinks you weren't trained at the academy. Don't worry about it."
"Uncle, I still can't do your Body Replacement Technique. The one with the crows."
Itachi gave her a questioning look.
"Honestly, I didn't think it would be so difficult," he admitted. "But there's no need to rush it."
"Uncle," Sarada interrupted insistently. "Show me once more. Please."
Itachi shrugged.
"Not right now."
Sarada nodded sadly.
Of course, he's injured. What techniques here.
"But you can ask Shisui," Itachi suggested unexpectedly, and noticing her face change, he asked in surprise, "What?"
"Uh…"
She embarrassedly ruffled the hair on the back of her neck. She couldn't tell Itachi that Shisui thought she was a spy. She didn't want to meet her uncle's friend at all.
"He likes training at the eighteenth training ground. Look for him there. If you want, of course…"
"Okay," Sarada sighed.
A battle raged in her soul. Wait until uncle recovers? No, it would be good to learn the technique before sparring with Izumi. They'd studied each other too well. She couldn't catch her friend in genjutsu anymore, but stocking up on a new trump card was a good idea.
Gathering her will into a fist, Sarada headed to the eighteenth training ground.
She didn't find Shisui right away.
The training area looked empty at first glance. Sarada listened for foreign presence and only after five minutes caught a surge of chakra—far off in the shadow of the trees, and only because the guy wasn't hiding. Yeah, she was a mediocre sensor.
Sarada approached the tree and heard panting from afar.
What is he doing there?
Suddenly, right in front of her, Shisui's red-faced grimace appeared upside down. He was out of breath and drenched in sweat, his damp messy hair hanging down.
"Whew… Hey, spy," he rasped out.
The face disappeared again. Sarada tilted her head back and crossed her arms over her chest. Hooking his legs over the tree branch, Shisui was doing sit-ups.
"What number thousand is that?" Sarada asked grimly.
Only one word spun in her mind: "spy." Her horned righteousness raged furiously.
I can't be a spy in my own village, shannaro! How long?
"I lost count at one thousand two hundred," Shisui whispered breathlessly.
His flushed cheeks, heavy from gravity, slightly overlapped his eyes, making Shisui's face look squinted and cute.
"What's with your voice?"
"What business is it of yours, spy?" Shisui teased and, grunting, pulled up to the branch, locking his hands behind his head.
"Enough already," Sarada muttered irritably.
He lowered again, swung, and nearly bumped noses with her.
"So what do you want? Did Itachi send you or what?"
He guessed. Yeah, how else would I find him on this training ground?
Sarada sighed.
"Can you help me with the Body Replacement Technique?"
"Didn't they teach you future academy kids techniques like that?" Shisui asked sarcastically.
He pulled up to his knees, flipped around the branch, somersaulted, and jumped to the ground.
"Not the best idea to ask him after all," Sarada thought. "More jabs and suspicions."
"Shisui-san!"
"Yeah, yeah," Shisui tried to speak normally, but it came out as a dry rasp. On top of that, he started coughing.
"What is with you…"
There was no irritation left in Sarada's tone, only caring interest. But Shisui ignored her.
"You're talking about Itachi's technique, right?" he continued in a whisper.
"Yeah, the combined one with summoning. You can do it?"
"Fine, I'll show you. Activate your Sharingan and watch closely—I'll do it slowly."
"Could it be that simple?" Sarada thought, mentally thanking Shisui for dropping the jabs and actually deciding to help, even though he thought she was a spy.
Using Sharingan when someone shows you a new technique—so simple and genius. Why hadn't she thought of that earlier? Chakra rushed to her eyes, awakening the dojutsu. All sensations sharpened. On the training ground full of trees, the flow of life was felt everywhere.
Shisui demonstrated Itachi's Body Replacement Technique. Crows scattered in all directions, and he vanished. A chakra source appeared somewhere in the nearby woods.
The wind carried a quiet whisper:
"Got it?"
She got it, but couldn't repeat it.
Switching places with scattering crows wasn't easy. It required skill. And keeping the summoned animals in the shape of her body for realism to confuse the enemy—that was another challenge. And according to Shisui, Itachi had created and mastered this technique himself at six years old.
"He's a genius for a reason," Sarada thought grumpily.
She didn't make it by the appointed day, so she had to fight her friend without the new technique.
Nearby at the training area stood grandfather, Shisui, and Itachi. Izumi was embarrassed by the sudden attention from her friend's father, and Sarada was a bit nervous from so many stern spectators, but as soon as the sparring started, thoughts of all the Uchiha except Izumi vanished completely.
In the past month, Sarada had truly improved her skills. If before her body couldn't keep up with her Sharingan, now she fought Izumi almost evenly—her reactions no longer lagged so badly. She'd also matched the speed of her other techniques, giving her a clear edge over her friend. Still, using the Great Fireball against Izumi was pointless. The agile, nimble, evasive girl would dodge and counterattack, while Sarada would just waste chakra.
Sarada threw a kunai at her, crackling with lightning discharges. Her friend deflected the attack, but the electricity transferred through Izumi's own kunai and stung her arm. She hissed, clutching her wrist. Not giving her time to recover, Sarada followed up with about half a dozen shuriken, also laced with electricity. Izumi dodged some by sidestepping, but Sarada fired the next volley preemptively—even Sharingan wouldn't help evade them. She had to deflect and take shock after shock.
That'll weaken you a bit. Sorry, Izumi. Now…
Fire Release: Great Fireball!
Izumi was just finishing deflecting the shuriken. The fireball caught her off guard: she'd gotten used to Sarada not using it effectively. But now Izumi barely dodged the direct hit, then had to fend off another volley of electrified weapons.
Close combat was Izumi's strength. Shuriken techniques and lightning release were Sarada's advantages. She intuitively anticipated her friend's moves even before her Sharingan could notice, striking preemptively and accurately. Essentially, Sarada dictated the fight's flow, just as Itachi once had in their spars.
Force the opponent to move where you want, and you won't need to predict—they'll think of it after you've already known.
The dust settled gradually. Sarada stopped playing with electricity—after Katon and Raiton, little chakra remained. Izumi closed in and imposed close combat again.
They were both tired. Izumi was slightly burned by the Fireball flame, plus roughed up by the electricity. Such minor attacks couldn't inflict serious damage, but her arms must be numb from the constant shocks. Sarada, meanwhile, was worn out from natural transformations. Plus, the active Sharingan devoured chakra mercilessly: her reserves were depleting rapidly with every second of the fight.
A bit more, and I won't sustain the Sharingan. I overdid the nature transformation.
But Sarada didn't regret it. Izumi fought excellently, and this elemental combo was one of her few chances to catch her. Sarada backflipped through the air, escaping her friend's comfortable range, and threw shuriken to hinder pursuit. Plain ones now.
Izumi broke through the attack without deflecting the shuriken buzzing dangerously close to her body. And the moment she reached her, Sarada's chakra finally ran out. Sharingan deactivated.
Damn.
Izumi went all out. Without Sharingan, Sarada couldn't keep up. A kunai tip scratched her arm. Izumi kicked her hard in the stomach and slammed a fist into her cheek, nearly knocking off her glasses.
Good job, Sarada. You lost.
Her mouth tasted metallic with blood. Almost no chakra. No Sharingan. No elements. Blow after blow against a Sharingan that predicts your moves. It hurt.
One last push.
"Shannaro!"
Sarada swung at Izumi, knowing it was futile: she'd dodge anyway. And she did. But Sarada wasn't aiming at Izumi. Dropping to her knees, she punched the ground. The training ground cracked, and rock fragments shuddered. The air grew murky with dust. Detached boulders in the fissures moved, and Izumi recoiled involuntarily, struggling for balance. That moment's delay was enough to use the technique.
Summoning.
Too little for Sharingan, but enough for summoning. Through the scattered dust, cawing crows rushed in. Izumi moved toward Sarada, but the birds attacked. She fended them off with kunai and hands, covering her eyes so they wouldn't peck them out.
Now. Just ten meters and victory…
"Enough," Fugaku's commanding voice rang out.
Sarada froze without taking a step. The birds left Izumi alone and flew into the woods. Grandfather lowered his hands, turned, and walked away from the training ground.
Sarada grew scared. She waited until grandfather was out of sight, then rushed to her uncle in panic:
"What happened? What's wrong?"
Itachi shrugged.
"Nothing happened. Father's just Father."
"What do you mean 'Father's just Father'?"
"Itachi means it's a normal reaction," Shisui explained. "Nothing to worry about."
His voice had returned to normal.
"That was unfair," Izumi smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "I almost won."
Sarada flinched involuntarily but then relaxed and exhaled.
It's over.
"Shisui-san, Itachi-kun," Izumi pleaded. "Tell me at least you. How did it look from the side? Was it bad?"
"Come on, Izumi-chan, it was great," Shisui praised. "Really, Sarada, you wasted almost all your chakra foolishly. But the shuriken and lightning combos were awesome."
Thanks for not adding "spy."
At dinner, grandfather unexpectedly announced:
"Sarada, I spoke to the Hokage about you."
She nearly choked on her soup.
"I insisted you pass the genin exam early, but in these peaceful times, the Third won't make exceptions for anyone."
The timid spark of hope "grandfather recognizes my strength" went out before it could flare.
"So you'll take the genin exam only in spring, with the other academy graduates."
Sarada couldn't believe her ears. Hope flared anew. She'd become a genin from the past? She'd be a shinobi?
"If only the wave…"
But what wave. No wave for over a month. Sarada was increasingly leaning toward it never coming at all. It made her feel calm yet a bit sad.
"Nevertheless," grandfather continued, "I recognize your level anyway and don't consider waiting for a village headband mandatory."
He said it with slight disdain.
Uncle beside her tensed and stopped eating soup.
"You're of age and skill, you perform the clan's traditional Great Fireball better than some older clan members. Therefore, as Uchiha head, I grant you permission to attend meetings. These are times when all of us must be informed. And you are ours."
Uncle set down his soup bowl and drew breath, as if to speak. But he faltered and exhaled.
"The next meeting is in a few days at the Naka Shrine. I'll specify the time later."
Fugaku thanked grandmother for dinner and went to the bedroom. Uncle stared thoughtfully at his empty plate.
Sarada was happy. They recognized her. They considered her one of them. She'd attend the meeting as a full Uchiha clan member.
But for some reason, uncle wasn't happy.
Itachi walked her to the Naka Shrine. He was still sullen and down.
"Uncle, what's wrong?" Sarada asked anxiously.
"Father… He shouldn't have. It was a mistake to give you access to meetings."
"Why?"
Itachi didn't answer.
She felt hurt. Sarada was sure uncle opposed it because she was from the future, unlike grandfather who didn't consider her "one of them." Strange—they'd just gotten along.
The underground hall of the shrine was packed. It was dark and stuffy inside. She and Itachi sat in the back row, as the youngest. No other seats—hall was full. Four figures rose from different corners as if on command, went to the shrine's four corners, and lit candles. Dim light spread through the hall. Grandfather sat facing the assembly. He waited for the attendees to quiet, stood, and spoke:
"Alright, let's begin. Greetings all, and before the main topic, a short announcement. From now on, my adopted daughter—Sarada—will attend regular meetings."
A light murmur rolled through the hall. People turned back, looking for Sarada.
"My eldest son, Itachi, trained her. She'll take genin certification next spring, but I recognize her level and won't wait for village handouts," Fugaku growled. "Objections?"
The gathering hummed approvingly.
"Excellent. Now the main point. Itachi has officially joined Anbu and started missions," grandfather announced solemnly.
"Anbu? Sarada wondered. But he's only eleven!"
Yes, uncle was a genius, but joining Anbu at that age?.. She still didn't know much about him.
"Now we have a channel between clan and village. Before, Leaf watched us, but now we'll watch the village too."
Leaf watched? What did he mean?
"Itachi. You're in Anbu now. Notice anything interesting?"
Uncle beside her stood.
"Village folk fear our clan and think poorly of Uchiha," his serious boyish voice sounded.
That's it…
Sarada recalled her first day in the past. Even then, the morning after the Nine-Tails attack, men at the field kitchen suspected Uchiha. It still lingered? Had it only gotten worse?
"There it is!" someone in the hall exclaimed.
Uchiha buzzed, discussing Itachi's words.
"However," uncle continued, putting weight into each word to shout over the din, "I sense no oppression or open hatred. I'm young. Dislike from other shinobi is natural. Ordinary human worries, envy…"
"Itachi," Fugaku said sternly and clearly. "Those ordinary human worries can become something far more powerful."
The crowd clamored, supporting their leader.
"Don't invent problems!" uncle exclaimed ringingly. "You expect only the worst, hoard hatred… Sooner or later it'll be a disaster—not Leaf's fault. Yours!"
Sarada felt uneasy. A scandal was brewing right before her eyes. She still barely understood what grandfather meant and what Itachi tried to convey, but fear slithered into her soul like a snake. Intuitively, she sensed a direct link between what was happening now in the Naka Shrine and the Uchiha clan's demise. And uncle seemed to feel it too. Was he trying to stop it, despite forbidding her interference?
"Whoa, Itachi!" A gray-haired man rose from the front rows, an unkind glint in his narrow eyes. "Damn you, whose side are you on? Think joining Anbu lets you yap here?"
"Enemies… allies…" Sharingan flared in Itachi's eyes. "You've sliced the world in two: black and white. Black—village, white—Uchiha. Right? You see only what you want, losing the real situation."
"Cut the demagoguery!" the man bellowed. "Whose side are you on, Uchiha Itachi?!"
His furious roar silenced the assembly. Sarada felt herself trembling. The stuffy hot shrine room, the oppressive tension in the stale air, and uncle—one against the whole clan. A verbal battle between a still very young, precociously wise boy and an angry stranger clearly high in the clan, sitting front row near the leader. And Sarada despaired realizing the whole clan backed the narrow-eyed man, not Itachi.
"Yashiro!" grandfather's commanding voice cooled his ally's ardor. "Stop immediately. Both of you."
"But, captain…"
"I said so."
Narrow-eyed Yashiro reluctantly bowed and sat.
"Itachi," grandfather continued. "You're too young and naive. I understand what you mean. But real life has no place for ideals. You'll understand later when you grow up. Now—apologize."
Uncle's face twisted in despair. Here at the meeting, he'd lost his usual composure.
"Sorry," he breathed out barely audibly.
Every note of his voice dripped with terrible pain. Itachi sank to the tatami, bowed his head, and long strands from his messy ponytail hid his face.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan