“No. I want you to choose.” Push it. “Will you side with the Uchihas, carry out the coup, and be destroyed with your clan? Or will you side with us in Konoha, and obliterate the Uchihas before the coup, leaving only your brother alive?”
From Itachi’s actions up to that point, it was unthinkable that he would side with the clan. So then, why was he in such conflict over it? Was even a man of Itachi’s caliber afraid of the infamy that would come with killing his clan?
“Whatever we have to do, we must get this situation under control before things descend into chaos, for the sake of the village. This mission can only be given to a double agent for both Uchiha and Konoha. There is only you, Itachi.”
Itachi himself would have known that. If someone from outside the clan were put to the task of annihilating the Uchihas, the other clans in the village would be dissatisfied with the village officials. If people started to suspect that whole clans would be purged if they were determined to be a liability to the village, the situation would become untenable. Which was exactly why the annihilation of the Uchihas needed to be done by someone in that clan. A mentally troubled boy killing his family, and his clan … this was the way to get the situation neatly under control.
“Itachi, this is likely a painful mission for you. However, in exchange, you will be able to make sure your brother survives.”
Since the Hokage Residence, Itachi had said almost nothing. Even at that moment, he was staring at Danzo in silence.
Anguish … Even as he had the thought that this was not a fitting word for this boy, Danzo felt in Itachi’s silence a surge of emotion that could even have been sorrow.
“I feel the same as you about the village.” Danzo took a small breath before uttering his final words. “Will you … accept this mission?”
As if no longer able to endure the feelings that threatened to crush him, Itachi closed his eyes and stuck his chin out slightly. He turned his back, and started to walk.
Danzo stared, without moving a single muscle, until the departing Itachi disappeared from sight. As if to pour his own passions into him …
Itachi pressed his forehead to the place on the cliff Shisui had leapt from, and pressed his eyes tightly shut. In his field of view, now shrouded in darkness, visions popped up and disappeared.
Corpses …
Rain …
Father …
And me …
Itachi was four years old. As the enormous conflict known as the Third Shinobi World War was drawing to a close, he had faced the battlefield his father brought him to. He still remembered clearly the mountain of dead bodies, no longer identifiable as ally or enemy. None of the corpses had been seeking their own death. Faces frozen, stretched out in terror or sadness, they seemed on the verge of calling out the futility of it. The young Itachi could do nothing. He had simply stood in the middle of the countless ninjas who had met untimely deaths, and cursed his own lack of power.
Ever since that day …
His thinking had changed completely.
Fighting was foolish. War must never happen. No matter how the darkness of people tried to darken him, this thinking had turned into light to illuminate the path he was to go down. It was why Itachi had made it this far.
Even after the blow to his heart after learning of his father’s plot, and the clan’s desire for battle. Even when his best friend had faced his own untimely death, torn between the village and the clan. Even if he ended up bringing about the demise of the clan with his own hands …
“Hngh.” A sob slipped out from between his clenched teeth. Trickling along his closed eyelids, tears spilled out, and wet the dry rock. The tears he had never shown anyone.
Itachi had lived his life with the vow in his heart to become the best ninja in the world, and for him, the act of crying was an act of defeat. Eliminating all fighting in the world was synonymous with becoming the best ninja in the world. He had no need of weakness on the road toward his outrageous dream. His dream was too big to be realized unless he was always strong, always facing forward, always walking intently toward his goal.
And yet, his tears would not stop.
Twelve years of life in this world. Itachi had almost no memories of crying. He had been a reasonable child from the time he was very little, so he didn’t cry and trouble his parents. He hadn’t cried when Tenma was killed, and he had activated his sharingan.
Memories of crying …
Four years old on the battlefield, and one more. The day he had killed Shisui. That time, too, it had been in this place.
“Shisui …” Itachi wondered what on earth Shisui would have said if he had been alive there.
Obliterating the clan …
Would Shisui have forgiven him? Probably not.
Shisui would have tried to protect the clan to the end. In which case, they would have ended up enemies. Maybe it was fortunate that they parted that day as friends.
Right … Itachi had already made up his mind. He had had a feeling, somehow, that this time would come, from the moment his friend died a year earlier, and he lost hope in the clan—from the instant those evil feelings sprang up in his heart.
The insurrection of the clan, chaos in the village, and then civil war …
Other villages would invade to take advantage of the ruined Konohagakure. Fighting begat fighting, and a new Shinobi World War would break out. At the center of this chain of hatred was the Uchiha clan.
“You should stay true to your thinking. Fight, be confused, be lost, and come through that to find your answer. And once you find it, make your decision, and do not waver from it. Find your answer, and be ready to follow through. That is determination.”
His father’s words came back to life in his mind. Determination. The decision he was about to make was a parting from the clan. And …
A parting from his father.
He wavered. He had been lost all this long time. He had also always stared at Shisui’s back, and regretted his own foolishness. Maybe there was a better way.
But …
“This is the best move,” Itachi murmured, as if to convince himself. The chill in his own words made his heart constrict painfully. A lamentation wet the darkness.
When he returned home that day, his family was already asleep.