Uchiha Itachi remembered very clearly the moment he became aware of exactly what he was.
It was raining that day. Itachi had only just turned four, and the rain—so heavy he had trouble opening his eyes under its weight—beat down mercilessly on his tiny body. Standing beside him, his father offered nothing in the way of sympathy or support. And Itachi himself didn’t wish for any.
“Remember, this is a battlefield.” His father’s powerful words pushed through the roar of the rain to pierce Itachi’s heart.
Battlefield …
Not a word for a four-year-old boy to fix in his memory. To say still less of the scene that lay before him at that moment, nothing remotely fit for a child’s eyes.
Bodies, bodies, bodies …
Mountains of dead bodies as far as the eye could see. And not a single one at peace. The corpses had stiffened, with faces twisted in agony.
“In a few years, you’ll be a ninja too. This war might end, but the reality of the ninja does not change. This is the world you will step into.”
His father’s callous voice filling his ears, Itachi stood still and endured. If he relaxed his control, the tears would come spilling out.
It wasn’t that he was scared. It wasn’t that he was sad. An emotion he couldn’t put into words surged within him. He didn’t understand why, but he felt such a tightness in his chest, he could hardly stand it.
Soaking wet in the rain. His father probably wouldn’t notice if he cried. Still, Itachi didn’t want to. He felt that if he cried here he might lose something critical to his life as a ninja. So he desperately tightened his control over himself.
But the tears came naturally spilling out.
People with Konoha forehead protectors. Ninja from other lands. The countless dead bodies blanketing the surface of the earth had no connection to national borders now. All of them been unable to kick free of their own deaths as they struggled, mourned, writhed. Those anguish-filled faces were all the same, no matter which land the ninja were from.
Not one among them had wished for death. And yet they had all died. Why? Because of the war.
“Father.” Itachi heard his own voice. And then, for the first time, he realized he was shaking. It wasn’t the chill of the rain. It wasn’t a fear of the corpses. Rage made Itachi shake. “Why did you bring me here …”
His father was silent for a while at the question from his young son, and then he began to respond, as if choosing his words carefully. “You are a clever boy.”
Eyes still turned toward the corpses, Itachi waited for his father to continue. He felt a warmth on the top of his head. The palm of his father’s hand.
“I wanted to make sure you saw this reality.”
Itachi frantically searched his mind for the meaning of the word “reality.” He was only four. He didn’t understand the difference between reality and fiction. Even so, he grasped the meaning of what his father was leaving unsaid.
“This is the world I will live in …”
“That’s right, Itachi. Ninja are creatures that fight. Never forget what you’ve seen here today.”
His father’s voice led Itachi to rub his eyes. He burned the hellscape before him into his retinas so that he would never forget it.
A warmth unlike that of his tears wriggled and squirmed within his eyes. The sensation—a wild wave of power flowing toward his retinas—was so terrifying, he unconsciously closed his eyes. When he did, the wave slowly, quietly disappeared into the center of his head. His heart pounded madly, and his breathing was ragged. He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. Before him, the hellish world was unchanged.
He gently pressed a hand to his chest. He felt like if he gave himself over to that power, he would stop being himself somehow.
“What’s wrong?”
He didn’t respond to his father’s question, but simply stared hard at the sight before him. This hell might have been the world in which he was to live, but he had no intention of sitting back and simply accepting it.
I will change it.
It was a mistake to try and resolve things by fighting, for whatever reason. This world had to change. This belief became the foundation of the man known as Uchiha Itachi.
Itachi never forgot that day.
The end of this Great War that swallowed up ninja from every land came several weeks after the day Itachi became aware of the meaning of his own existence. Later called the Third Great Ninja War, the conflict came to an end after an armistice agreement was concluded between Konohagakure and Iwagakure, the principal aggressors.
Although the war had been proceeding favorably for Konoha, Hiruzen, the third Hokage, established a policy of reconciliation to bring an end to the fighting with an unprecedented offer to not seek reparations from Iwagakure. Advocates for the war opposed Hiruzen’s seemingly weak decision, and to keep dissatisfaction in the village in check, he decided to step down as Hokage. This led to the selection of a new Hokage, and the hero of the Great War, Namikaze Minato, became the fourth. With Hiruzen’s retirement as Hokage, the village inched toward recovery after the tumult of the war.
Itachi had a clear objective: “Become the best ninja ever, and eliminate war from this world.”
An adult might speak of such a grandiose dream with a laugh. But for four-year-old Itachi, it was precious and irreplaceable. To achieve it, he would first learn basic ninja skills at the academy, take his exams, and be formally recognized as a ninja.
This, despite the fact that the boy had still not been accepted into the academy yet. But he wanted to become a ninja as soon as possible, so he was training by himself.
“I’m home.” Itachi quietly slipped off his shoes in the entryway and walked slowly down the hallway.
“How was your day?” his mother Mikoto called out to him when he passed the kitchen. At that moment, a new life was growing in her womb.
Will it be a little brother or a little sister?
At any rate, it would be Itachi’s first sibling.
“Were you training by yourself again today?”
“Yeah.”
At this reply, sounding too grown-up to have possibly come from her four-year-old son, Mikoto turned around, holding her heavy belly, and shrugged her shoulders.
“Is Dad in his room?”
“He is, but right now’s a little …” his mother said, but Itachi was already stepping toward his father’s room. After the day’s training he had a question about the way to hold a kunai, and he wanted an answer right away.
“Why should the fourth be Minato?!” The fierce voice on the other side of the closed sliding door stopped Itachi in his tracks.
“You don’t know who could be listening.” His father’s even tone. “Keep your voice down, Yashiro.”
“But I just can’t accept it. The only name other than Minato put forward for the selection of the Fourth was Lord Orochimaru! Why did not a single person say your name, Lord Fugaku?” the man named Yashiro demanded of his father.
In Itachi’s head, Yashiro’s face popped up. A man with narrow eyes and closely cropped white hair. Although he was older than Itachi’s father, he served him as a subordinate.
“It’s just as you say, Yashiro. I cannot accept this either.”
“Inabi …” His father spoke the name of the master of this new voice. Uchiha Inabi was a leading ninja in the Konoha Military Police Force. His distinguishing feature was his long black hair. He was also Itachi’s father’s subordinate. “Ninja from the other lands trembled at the mention of ‘Wicked Eye’ Fugaku during the Great War.”
“The head of the Konoha Military Police Force. That is my position in the village.”
“There’s talk it’s all the administration’s plan!” Yashiro shouted, and then spat out, “Village officials don’t want the Uchihaclan standing on center stage. They said nothing in the village about all the work you did during the Great War, Lord Fugaku. Because of that, it was Minato and the Sannin, and even Hatake Kakashi—who has the sharingan despite not being a member of the clan—who shone. If the people can make a fuss over Minato and Kakashi, then your name should also—”
“Enough.” Fugaku’s controlled voice cut Yashiro off. “My son is listening.”
Itachi winced slightly.
“What is it, Itachi?”
He noticed me …
Rookie.
Itachi gritted his teeth. Having no other choice, he pushed the sliding door open.
Inside were four people: his father Fugaku, Yashiro, Inabi. And one more, a man with a dot on his forehead. A subordinate of Itachi’s father, Uchiha Tekka.
“What is it?”
“I wanted to ask you about shuriken.”
“I’m busy right now. Ask me later.”
“All right.” He quickly slid the door shut as he spoke.
The instant it was almost entirely closed, a crimson light grew in the eyes of the four men. Sharingan. The kekkei genkai inherited by members of the Uchiha clan.
Returning to his room, Itachi recalled the air filling his father’s room. And then for some reason, the battlefield he had seen with his father came back to life in the back of his brain. The very picture of Hell, overflowing with evil intent and malice.
The aura hanging over the men in his father’s room was the same ominous air he had felt on the battlefield.
“What is Father thinking …” There was no one to reply to his murmured question.