A lazy sunny morning imperceptibly slid past noon. Kakashi crouched on a building ledge in the shadow of the facade, peering around the corner at the dango restaurant on one of the central streets. Pakkun sat beside him, gradually sliding off the ledge. Every two minutes, he irritably dug his claws into the smooth surface and climbed higher, but his silky fur slid too easily down the slope, and he couldn't stay put in the stakeout.
"Quit fidgeting."
"Pff," Pakkun snorted irritably.
A suspicious figure in a black cloak with red clouds sat in the establishment. Kakashi watched the stranger intently, but he was just eating lunch. No attempts to leave, no rush. Waiting for someone?
You, maybe, Uchiha Itachi?
Kakashi remembered well those times in Anbu when a rookie was assigned to Rooftop Squad. The Hokage's elite squad accepted only the chosen, and it felt strange and unusual for the other Anbu members to see a child among them—especially a child from the Uchiha clan. But Kakashi approached Itachi with understanding. The Third hadn't assigned him to watch the Uchiha newbie by chance. They had much in common: first, the Sharingan; second, Itachi was a genius in his clan, and Kakashi knew firsthand what life held in store for ones like them.
Darkness and loneliness.
But the boy differed from him at the core.
Kakashi had carried pain and darkness since early childhood. He'd tried to be the perfect shinobi, follow the rules to avoid his father's shameful fate, but life kept breaking him and forcing hard choices. Mission or Rin. Tenzō or life. Hokage or Danzo. Too many doubts and heavy decisions, too great a burden of unpleasant memories. Every morning he woke, stared at his hand, and tried to wash away the burning sensation of electricity, Rin's blood, and the warmth of her chest around his wrist. It continued to this day.
But what brewed in Itachi's soul, Kakashi had no clue. The guy was always outwardly calm, suppressed emotions well, and acted decisively without hesitation. He didn't falter, didn't doubt, didn't get lost in the dark. At least, that's how it seemed from outside. While Kakashi lived in the past, mechanically did his job, and expected nothing from life, Uchiha Itachi wasn't dragged down by the past like an anchor. He was clearly striving toward something. Striving confidently. And watching how effortlessly this child handled Anbu work, Kakashi feared to guess what went on in his head, what goals he pursued, what he lived for.
Moreover, the kid's potential was so vast that next to him, Kakashi felt defective. Long ago, he'd himself—a recognized genius—despised Obito for his clumsiness and uselessness, not fully grasping the power encoded in his genes. And Obito was Uchiha. The clan haunted Kakashi his whole life after Obito's death, like payment for mocking his fallen comrade.
Kakashi hovered on the edge: not Uchiha, unable to unlock the eye's full power, yet Obito's Sharingan set him apart from other jonin, who involuntarily lumped him closer to Uchiha than themselves.
They kept linking him again and again. The Sharingan, Obito's farewell gift, defined Kakashi's fate as mentor to young Uchiha. The Third assigned him to Itachi. Then formed his team with Sasuke. Then Shisui begged him to take Sarada under his wing. And around the young heirs of the great clan, Kakashi felt roughly like Obito must have beside him back in their team days.
Uchiha power first appeared to him in the form of Fugaku's eldest son, the clan head. The Third asked Kakashi to look after the boy, but there was nothing to teach Itachi. He'd mastered dojutsu entirely on his own. The young genius had a Uchiha body; his abilities were natural. Kakashi's Sharingan drained too much chakra and quickly depleted his modest reserves. That kid was like a slap in the face. Retribution for past pride, for the days when he'd naively thought nature had generously gifted him everything a shinobi needed as a snot-nosed brat.
He'd never been so wrong.
Pakkun clawed at the ledge again. Kakashi tsked and cautiously peeked around the corner. The black-red cloak was still eating.
"What'll you do if he shows?" Pakkun asked sullenly.
"Ask him personally what he's forgotten here."
The dog snorted.
"And you think you can actually take them?"
"One—no. But I won't go against them alone."
"You think he'll tell you the truth?" Doubt flickered in Pakkun's deep low voice.
"Whatever he says, you can draw conclusions from it. In the end, Pakkun, he's a missing-nin from our village. We're duty-bound to capture or kill him. Itachi was always talented, but together, I'm sure we can take him—and Konoha will have one fewer problem."
"If he killed Shisui himself," the dog pressed with undisguised skepticism, "you'll have a rough time, no matter how many of you there are. Plus he's not alone. Ugh."
Kakashi shrugged.
"Nothing for it, Pakkun."
Killing Itachi had never been in Danzo's plans. He'd seen through the boy completely, ever since he'd first made waves with stunning success in the academy. A genius, so unfortunately born into that cursed clan. The one Uchiha who evoked sympathy in Danzo.
They thought alike. Both lived in darkness, upholding peace from the shadows. One goal: protect Konoha at any cost, by any means. Only back then, years ago, Itachi had still been damn naive—forgivable in a child.
Danzo was never naive. He trusted no one in life. He had no friends. Friendship relied on wasteful trust, admitting one's own weakness and inadequacy—Danzo couldn't afford that, so he made none. Subordinates, allies, former comrades... But no friends. He preferred doing everything himself, by his own strength. Fully control the situation and expect betrayal from anyone. But he also knew his years were ending, and the time would come when another took up Hidden Leaf's darkness on his shoulders. If no one did—it would break free, flood the village.
Itachi, I wouldn't fear entrusting Konoha to you, even as a Uchiha. I'd have groomed you as successor. Things could have been different. If not for that damn clan, if I hadn't had to use the boy to save Hidden Leaf from civil war...
But it hadn't gone as expected. Itachi had chosen to clash with him in a deathmatch. Danzo truly meant to keep his word and not harm Sasuke, but his friend's death made Itachi doubt the deal's reliability. And he clearly wouldn't risk it.
Uchiha Sasuke. What was so special about that kid? Danzo never understood. Itachi had stepped over everything: love for father and mother, clan—but doted on Sasuke with the same fervent love as for Konoha.
So be it. The gods witness, I didn't want to kill you, Itachi.
Power meant nothing against sound tactics. Danzo planned to deal with Itachi like Shisui. Even if the same trick didn't always work twice, tracking tiny insects was no easy task even if Suguru's technique's secret leaked.
When Fu returned and reported Itachi's sudden attack, Danzo prepared for the meeting. He realized: Uchiha Itachi knew what happened to Shisui. But Suguru, sent hunting the fugitive, didn't return. By morning, Danzo guessed Tiger Mask's return was off the table, and the meeting with Itachi confirmed it. The Uchiha had indeed dealt with Suguru, throwing Danzo's plans into disarray. With the Aburame kid, he could have ended it quick and quiet. Now he had to face Itachi personally and likely sacrifice some eyes.
Attempting Shisui's life, Danzo hoped for a trump card worth the risk. The youth's eyes held unimaginable power and mysteries, but Danzo faced cruel disappointment. He never got the second eye. Damn kid escaped after all, and Danzo suspected Uchiha Itachi had claimed Shisui's left eye. Worse, no super techniques usable against Itachi lurked in the stolen eye. There was one, but no matter how Danzo tried activating it—nothing. Maybe it needed the second eye, or a Uchiha body, or more chakra... No time-manipulation techniques at all, to his disappointment. He couldn't even summon Susanoo. Danzo hoped for genjutsu strength at least, but hadn't tested it on normal shinobi, and against Itachi, every attempt failed. The pure-blood Uchiha saw through his pathetic efforts. No surprise—even a snot-nosed Uchiha girl barely awakened to Sharingan had shattered his genjutsu. And though Shisui's eye was stronger than his old one, Itachi wasn't some little girl. He had Mangekyo. Danzo's body couldn't extract the full power the previous owner wielded, and he reluctantly admitted it wasn't just the body—it was Shisui of the Body Flicker Technique's mastery too.
Danzo was at a disadvantage: lost key men including Suguru; stolen eye fell short... And facing Itachi proved far from simple.
Uchiha Itachi was strong, but Danzo had successfully forced the boy to burn massive chakra on Tsukuyomi and could catch him off-guard repeatedly. After all, Danzo had about a dozen Izanagi attempts, while Itachi had none: he surely wouldn't risk his only pair of eyes.
But even that didn't help. Itachi was untouchable. Too fast, skilled, sharp. He adapted in a flash. Danzo planned to kill him right after Tsukuyomi, but in the last fraction of a second...
Inhuman reaction speed.
The fight dragged on, inflicting losses Danzo hadn't anticipated. Even Shisui's eye offered no defense against genjutsu. Itachi caught him imperceptibly, and Danzo gradually lost his bearings, doubting every instant: was he still fighting reality, or trapped in genjutsu racing to death?
After Itachi destroyed five Sharingan in one strike, Danzo flew into a rage. Things looked dire. If he'd been conserving resources before, now he doubted victory at all.
Itachi read his attacks transparently. Literally read his mind. It was terrifying.
Time to bring in the rest. Danzo had ordered them not to interfere, to stay out of the way, but he couldn't manage alone now. He signaled. The squads spread out and activated barrier technique. Danzo feared even that might fail, but the heavens favored him this time.
He exhaled.
It worked.
Danzo hadn't risked signaling the squads until Itachi dropped his guard and reached a capture point—anything could be expected from a Uchiha power heir.
The old man glanced regretfully at his mangled arm.
Wasted so many eyes.
Well, at least two could be replaced.
No, maybe even six in the future. Fair compensation.
He clenched the fingers of his prosthetic hand into a fist.
Your turn, Fu. Step up.
Itachi was immobilized. Root remembered how Shisui of the Body Flicker Technique had escaped a similar bind, and everything suggested if Itachi had Susanoo power, they couldn't hold him long. So they'd refined the combo. Now, with Itachi unable to move—and not yet using any technique to break free or defend—Fu was up.
Knock him out. That's all. Enough to harvest fresh eyes unimpeded and kill.
Danzo watched Itachi with narrowed eyes. Any second now, the boy should lose consciousness, but Fu was inexplicably dawdling. With every lost moment, Danzo grew angrier and more anxious.
Why's he hesitating, damn it?
Fu cupped his hands and caught the figure in the black cloak with red clouds in the window formed by his joined thumbs and index fingers. His hands trembled. Focus broken.
I can't. I can't do this...
Something subconscious blocked him. Fu exhaled, refocused, and recaptured the rogue Uchiha in the finger window.
Good. Steady. Now the technique.
He steeled himself, preparing the secret technique.
Again, something went wrong. Some inner block prevented continuing. The stubborner he pushed, the more suffocating panic rose in his chest.
What's wrong with me?
Fu broke the seal and stared at his black-gloved hands: trembling again. He peeled off one glove, inspected his palm. Then the other.
Never like this before. Struck by fear and doubt mid-mission out of nowhere? Unable to complete a technique?
Fu dropped the gloves and tried framing Uchiha Itachi in the technique focus a third time. He sweated, ground his teeth. Heart raced, blood roared in his ears. Savage panic. His very nature suppressed the attempt.
He cursed and spotted the nearest Root member—a bird-masked youth with blue patterns. Still young, Danzo-sama's favorite. Fu redirected his sealed hands at him. The technique fired effortlessly, naturally, as if no problems moments ago. The pale boy rolled his eyes and toppled into the nearest bush.
Relief washed over Fu.
All good. It works.
But his hands shook harder...
He's one of us. What am I doing? He had his role, and now... No, I had to test, and I did. It works. One more time!
He raised his hands. Uchiha's figure appeared in the finger gap. Again, weakness surged from hands to shoulders to heart.
I can't... What's wrong with me?!
Burning spread across his skin, crawling over his body like weaving nets. Itachi instinctively tried lowering his head to see what was happening inside him, but couldn't move.
No, from the feel, it's not poison. Something from barrier seals...
Itachi tried conserving chakra. He had a full day ahead partnering with Kisame, and he didn't want to return to the swordsman drained dry. Next to the rogue known as "tailless bijuu," he always needed reserves for a duty Tsukuyomi.
But no time to baby it now.
His eyes cramped from strain. Overworked cells throbbed, from which Susanoo drew chakra. Now Itachi clearly felt the invisible bonds locking his movements. Suppressing the seal wasn't simple. It resisted to the end; plenty of chakra poured into it. Hardest was forcing it back even a little—but once he did, it eased.
His body was free.
Danzo staggered back. Itachi smashed him into the ground with Susanoo's fist and watched the broken body dissolve.
The old man reappeared nearby, meters from the impact crater, formed seals, and exhaled Wind Release. Confident in solid protection, Itachi didn't counter. The Vacuum Blades series struck Susanoo, staggering Itachi under the onslaught. In horror, he watched the technique whittle the giant's skeleton. He ramped chakra flow. The thinned bones gained taut muscles, skin, and armor. Susanoo's torso took semi-complete form.
Root shinobi appeared beside Danzo and synced seals. A wide fire salvo slammed into Itachi, reinforced by Wind Release in pursuit.
Fierce technique. Danzo hoped it'd breach Susanoo's armor. And maybe he was right about something.
But not my Susanoo.
The more powerful the technique, the worse it was for the attackers. A fiery typhoon of incredible temperature, sharp like a blazing meat grinder, crashed into the shield of the orange giant and scattered across the area in a wide flaming wave, burning trees and Root members who couldn't dodge the sudden backlash. Danzou got caught in the fire too.
The grove was ablaze. The Sharingan saw the chakra of the survivors. Keeping away from the pockets of fire, they crept closer and risked attacking again. Itachi, scanning the battlefield, quickly figured out where the darting Root shinobi would be at any given moment and hurled kunai through Susanoo. All of them hit their marks.
Memory helpfully supplied Itachi with moments from his past.
A mission in the Land of Wind. Mukai, surrounded by Sand shinobi. One against all. With four kicks, he managed to deflect a deadly hail of weapons...
Our fates are similar after all.
Behind him, the revived Danzou was preparing another aerial assault, but Itachi charged straight ahead into the Series of Vacuum Blades. Susanoo, thrusting out its left arm, shielded itself with a broad shield.
Time to end this. I'm already at my limit.
From the barrage of elements emerged Danzou's face, bewildered and furious at the same time.
Line of sight.
Genjutsu.
Once again, that same one, with fine concentration, perfect transmission of reality...
Their fight was woven from instants and coincidences. Casually recalling his conversation with Sarada about divinity, Itachi thought that the battle had surely birthed countless new worlds where everything had gone wrong.
A second's hesitation, inattention. Missed an attack, didn't react in time. Chose a different technique, a different move, and that was it... The outcome of the fight would have been completely different.
Danzou had prepared meticulously for their encounter. But Itachi had prepared too, and by some miracle, he'd knocked the ground out from under Danzou by unraveling his two main trump cards.
Itachi's victory had been preordained by his meeting with his niece. If he hadn't talked to Sarada, he wouldn't have learned about Suguru's insects. And if he hadn't seen her fight against the Root shinobi, the Yamanaka technique would have caught him even through Susanoo's skeleton.
Daisa huddled on the extended left hand, uncomfortably tucking his head in as if something itched. It didn't itch—it hurt. From the right eye socket, the eye of his late friend stared at Itachi. He scratched the bird's chest, but the crow didn't appreciate the attention and painfully nipped his finger with its beak, then suddenly let go, hypnotized by the precious ring. It tried to steal the ring from his ring finger, but Itachi flicked the greedy bird on the nose with a familiar motion, and Daisa fluttered off the hand, perched on his right shoulder, meek and obedient as never before.
The mortally wounded Danzou, with his single remaining eye, stood on all fours, breathing heavily with a whistle. He had lost. Root ANBU was no more.
"Still... got what you wanted..." the man choked out, gurgling blood, and broke into a fit of coughing.
Something in his chest bubbled and gurgled loudly.
A kunai appeared in Itachi's hand.
"Itachi," Danzou said hastily, realizing he was living his last seconds.
He paused and tilted his head questioningly.
"Do what you want... with your pups..." the Root leader breathed out barely audibly.
His voice dripped with poisonous contempt.
Itachi waited patiently for the continuation.
"...but just protect Konoha," Danzou finished and limply dropped his head.
No longer mocking, but instead, remarkably sincerely.
"Of course."
Itachi stood a moment longer, watching the dying man's back heave with convulsive breaths, and plunged the kunai into his neck. Into the exact same spot as with Izumi once upon a time.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan