“Like I said, don’t judge people by appearances or preconceptions.”
Hit hard in vital points, the three men remained doubled over, unable to move.
“You misjudge me completely if you think I have patience for you.”
Trembling, Inabi finally just barely managed to lift his head, and glare at Itachi.
“The clan … The clan … ,” Itachi continued. “You babble on, but you overestimate your abilities. And you have no idea of the depth of mine, which is why you’re crawling right now.”
On all fours, trying desperately to stand up, Yashiro looked over his shoulder at Itachi, and spat, “Shisui … had been watching you recently … It’s been six months since you entered the Anbu … What you’ve said and done since then is too strange to overlook. What on earth are you thinking?”
“You cling to your organization, to your clan, and to your name … You limit yourself, you arbitrarily decide on your capacity. Disgusting … and then, you fear and despise what you can’t yet see … still don’t know … Sheer idiocy!!” Itachi replied.
Making his father bear the brunt of it, ordering Shisui to do dirty work, hiding themselves in the shadows, squirming around in secret. Men like these did not deserve to live. And if this vanguard of the radical faction were to die, that foolish plan might also lose some of its power.
Die …
“Itachi, stop it!!”
He was about to fly at them once more, when a fierce voice from behind stopped him. He looked back to find his father standing stock still, a stunned look on his face.
“That’s enough. What’s wrong with you?” Without looking at the three men on the ground, his father walked straight toward him. “Itachi, I’m worried about your behavior of late.”
Itachi dropped his head to avoid the visual axis of his father’s sharingan. “There’s nothing to worry about.” It’s your behavior that’s worrying … He crushed the words in his heart with different ones. “I’m busy with work … That’s all.”
“Then why didn’t you show up last night?” His father waited silently for Itachi’s answer.
“… I needed to achieve the next state,” Itachi murmured.
“What are you talking about?”
He couldn’t exactly say, I killed Shisui and got the Mangekyo sharingan. He was angry with himself for choosing his words even in a situation like this, and that anger made his hand take up a kunai. Without even looking in that direction, he tossed the blade off toward the wall to the right. The cold tip plunged into the center of the Uchiha clan crest drawn crisply there.
Sweat sprang up on his father’s brow. He turned his eyes on his son, a restless energy radiating from his body.
Itachi lowered his face. “My ability’s been repressed by this pathetic clan.”
Had Shisui worked so desperately, and died, to save people like this? Was this clan really worth saving? Itachi didn’t know.
“Obsessing over worthless things like the clan, you lose sight of what’s really important.” Peace in the village. Wasn’t that more important than the clan’s resentment? “Premonition and imagination … You can’t achieve real change as long as you’re bound by regulations and restrictions.”
If the clan only broke free from the fetters that bound them, they could live in harmony with the people of the village. It was pride that drove the clan, the desire to protect their small world. His father and the others couldn’t see that.
“What insolence!!”
His father could only hear insolence in the cries of Itachi’s heart. Once more, he was stunned by how far apart they were. So then, they would never understand each other. In which case …
In the back of his mind, a hazy image of an ominous future rose up.
“Enough!” His father glared at him, as he held the crouching Yashiro by the shoulders. “If you continue to speak this nonsense, you’re going to prison!”
Nonsense …
The memory of a distant day popped into his head. The first day of class at the academy. The teacher had asked about their dreams, and Itachi had announced his to the class: “I want to be the greatest ninja ever, great enough that I can erase all fighting from this world.”
Everyone had thought it was nonsense. But he was still earnestly pursuing that dream, even now. Erase all fighting from this world … People could laugh, they could think it nonsense, but that was all Itachi truly wanted.
But his father could not see the way he suffered for this dream. Fugaku pulled his men to their feet, almost embracing them, and then they stood in front of Itachi.
“Well, what’re you going to do?!” Inabi spat fiercely. “This will not be tolerated. Captain, give the arrest order!!”
Itachi could not be captured there. The four ringleaders of the coup d’état were assembled before him. Now that he had arrived here at the end of the line, all he could do was stand firm.
Shattering his resolve was his brother shouting, almost shrieking. “Itachi! Stop it!”
My brother’s watching …
Sasuke had heard all of this.
Like a marionette with its strings cut, Itachi’s knees folded, and he crumpled onto the stone paving of the path. He quietly put both hands on the ground, and bowed his head deeply.
I can’t kill someone in front of my brother … It was his pride as the older brother. And the single-minded desire not to hurt his brother.
“I did not kill Shisui … But I apologize for my inappropriate remarks … I’m very sorry.”
It was not an apology from the heart. His father likely knew that. But, as if carefully considering his son’s pain, Fugaku replied, calmly, “Lately, the heavy mission load for the Anbu seems to have tired him out.”
“Captain!!” Inabi cried, as if reproaching Fugaku for his weakness.
“The Anbu is under the Hokage’s direct control,” his father continued. “Even we can’t arrest him without a warrant. As for my son … I’ll take responsibility for him. Please …” His father’s voice was hoarse, as he bowed his head to his subordinates.
“… Understood,” Inabi said, sounding displeased.
“Itachi, inside.” His father turned, and slipped through the gate.
Still on his knees, head bowed to the ground, Itachi stared after him. What do you know?
The flames smoldering in his heart had not been quenched. His feelings became a torrent of chakra pouring into his eyes. Itachi felt his sharingan transform.
Mangekyo …
For an instant, he met his little brother’s eyes.
Alone, Fugaku considered the incident of the previous day. Listening to the raindrops beating down on the roof, he sat with eyes closed and arms crossed.
He was off duty. Itachi had left on a mission, and Sasuke was at the academy. His wife had also gone out, to do the shopping. The only person in the house was Fugaku.
When they passed each other in the hallway that morning, Itachi had not greeted him. His son hadn’t so much as glanced at him as he passed by, and Fugaku regretted that he hadn’t been able to reach out to Itachi then.
His dealings with Yashiro and the others, together with the kunai that had scarred the clan crest, made Itachi’s position clear.
My son is with the village …
Fugaku was planning a coup d’état; this was a complication that had to be prevented at any cost. A ninja of Itachi’s caliber going over to the enemy was enormous. The success or failure of the coup rested on which side could claim Itachi as its own. But Fugaku couldn’t decide if it was right to force his son to bow to him.
What must Yashiro and the others have thought of a boss like him? No one would accept a captain who couldn’t even make his own son fall into line. And there was still the lingering doubt about Shisui’s death, further deepening Itachi’s isolation within the clan.
“Excuse me?” A girl’s voice interrupted Fugaku’s thoughts.
A visitor … Standing up slowly, Fugaku stepped out of his room, and headed toward the front door.
“You …” He tried desperately to remember the name of the girl folding a wet umbrella, and looking up at him with eyes on the verge of tears. He was certain she had been in the same class as Itachi at the academy. He’d also seen her several times at the meetings.
“My name’s Izumi. Uchiha Izumi,” the girl said, in a forlorn voice.
He remembered now. She was the daughter of Uchiha Hazuki, who had returned to the clan after losing her husband in the Nine Tails incident. He was fairly certain that Hazuki was two years younger than he was.
“Itachi’s out on a mission. I don’t know when he’ll be back.” His words were too curt; even he thought he sounded surly.
His girlfriend?
It was hard to believe his son would have a girlfriend, given that he thought about nothing but missions. But the girl standing before his eyes was hanging her head with a pained look on her face, as though she had heard about the incident the day before. She looked as though she were devoted to his son.
“Oh, he’s out? All right, I’ll come another time.” The girl Izumi turned around and took a step toward the door.
“Er.” It was a pathetic call to stop her. Almost like he was a teenager again.
Confused, Izumi turned around.
It was all fine and good to stop her, but he didn’t know what he should say. The only reason he spoke at all was simply because he felt he couldn’t let her go home like that. As if to hide his discomfort, Fugaku scratched his cheek with a fingertip and told her honestly, “He’s gruff, but he is kind.”
“I know,” Izumi replied, in an unexpectedly strong voice.
Awed by her eyes gazing directly at him, he continued. “He has few allies. I’d ask you don’t abandon him.”
Izumi’s eyes widened.
She’s a beautiful girl, he thought.
“Please.”
“Don’t worry,” Izumi said clearly, and bowed deeply before turning her back to him, and crossing the threshold. “Sorry to have bothered you.” She closed the door, and disappeared into the rainy village.
Left alone once more, Fugaku was touched by this girl’s strong heart and her feelings for his son, and he couldn’t stop something warm from dampening his cheeks.