"Should I have dressed up?" Shisui whispered, with a less than subtle attempt at hiding it behind one hand.

Itachi narrowed his eyes. Seated beside him, his father's expression grew more pinched. It just made Shisui snicker.

"It's not often I get a visit from the clan head," he continued. "In fact, I'm pretty sure the last time you visited, Fugaku-sama, I had just unlocked my Sharingan—"

"And at what point," Otou-san said, "do you intend to start treating this with the gravity it deserves?"

The smile slid off of Shisui's face. "Don't worry, Fugaku-sama," he said. "I already am."

He rested his hands on the table, letting the manacles clank against its steel surface.

The sight made Itachi's skin crawl. Inked paper snaked around the cuffs, dark and malevolent. Chakra-suppression seals, keeping Shisui as ineffectual as the average civilian.

And just as vulnerable.

"How are you doing?" he asked, before that tick in his father's jaw became an explosion.

"Just fine. Morino-san's been positively hospitable." Shisui gestured to himself, the short chain connecting his hands tinkling with every move. "They haven't even brought out the scalpels yet!"

"Shisui."

Shisui sighed.

The stark lights of the interrogation room deepened the shadows under his eyes, rendering his pale skin near-transparent. With his black clothes and the plain white walls, he looked ready to fade away.

It had taken them three hours and forty-eight minutes to negotiate their way into a meeting with Shisui. As clan head, Otou-san had a right to question or defend a clan member under suspicion. Itachi had followed like he had every right to be there, leveraging his height, his status as clan heir, and his recent jounin ranking to slip around any who would protest. And so T&I had lent them an interrogation room, with the caveat that the meeting would be observed the whole time.

"I can't think of anything," Shisui admitted at last. "I have enemies, sure, but going as far as to involve the twins?"

Meaning the group of people with a grudge against Shisui and the resources to crack an S-rank secret was very small indeed.

"Someone could have tracked down your associates," Itachi suggested. "Or you weren't the target at all."

Otou-san crossed his arms. "Then why bother with a disguise?"

Shisui shook his head. "It goes deeper than that." His gaze slid towards Itachi. "Remember when I almost lost my arm a few weeks back, to some hack job's attempt at a fuinjutsu trap?"

"Yes."

The lacerations alone had shredded Shisui's sleeve from wrist to bicep. With Yua's help, they had managed to keep it from the children, though Shisui did show up the next day with a suspiciously angry bruise on his collarbone.

"Well, I got the genius idea to hunt down a few fuinjutsu scrolls to memorize, so I can recognize a seal before that kind of, ah, thing happens again."

Itachi's heart stuttered.

Minako had been found on top of a half-finished seal.

"What happened to the scrolls?" It came out sharper than he intended. His father shot him a look out of the corner of his eye.

"Nothing. Other than the fact that they found two more than there should be, when they searched my house."

Shisui nodded at Itachi's newfound pallor. His own smile was a macabre reflection of his usual grin.

"I can think of people who'd want me dead. I can maybe think of a few who would risk infiltrating a Hidden Village to do it." He slumped in his seat. "I can't think of anyone who'd be able to keep it up for weeks."

Otou-san leaned forward, expression dark. "Do you know what is in the new scrolls?"

"More advanced seals on binding and releasing. Way out of my league, but visually simple enough to copy, if the user was careful." Shisui flapped his hand at the walls. "At least three different people have told me it would've worked. In theory."

That was enough for Itachi's father to rise from his seat. "I need to see these scrolls. Both of you, wait for me here." He strode out of the room, the heavy metal door swinging shut in his wake.

"Not like I'm going anywhere," Shisui joked into the silence left in Otou-san's wake.

Itachi breathed out. The loss of his father's mounting fury lifted some of the weight squeezing his chest.

The steel in Shisui's spine bled away, here in their little illusion of privacy. "What a mess."

"There's still Minako-chan's testimony," Itachi reminded him. Reminded himself.

Shisui frowned at him. "Yeah, what was that? I know she was panicking—which, honestly, if she's serious about her goals, she needs to work on—but the things she said?"

Itachi settled into the seat his father vacated. The prying eyes and ears around them wouldn't think twice about being disappointed in a pre-genin for losing her head, and that was the most the two of them would say about the subject.

It was the least they could do. Minako had entrusted them with her secret, then had all but blown it herself in her panic to keep Shisui from being detained. It warmed Itachi's heart, even as he wanted to shake his head in exasperation. Yet another consequence of this tumbling disaster he'd have to keep in mind.

"I think she might be a sensor," he said.

Shisui bolted upright in his seat. "A chakra sensor. Like Mikoto-sama? Are you sure?" The raw hope in his eyes said more about his current state than any attempts at deflection could.

Itachi nodded. "I didn't have much time to question her, but everything she said points to some level of ability." He flexed his hand, remembering the brush of her fingers against his palm. "It would explain some things."

"That's—that's good." The tension seeped out of his friend's shoulders. "They wouldn't be expecting that. Even we didn't know. We can use that."

The gleam in his eyes was back, bright and fierce. His hands clenched into fists, ready, a silent vow. Itachi held his gaze.

He and Shisui hadn't needed words to speak in a long, long time.

There was an intricacy to this plan that went beyond personal grudges. It required an intimate knowledge of Shisui's movements that an outsider wouldn't have. Taking Minako could have been a coincidence. But it was more likely that it was not.

"You don't think it's…"

Shisui's eyes flashed. Itachi jerked his head down—one, sharp nod.

This was no place to discuss that. Whatever agenda they suspected there was against the clan, it would do them no good to speculate where all and sundry could hear.

Itachi's lip curled in frustration.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Shisui leaned forward, drawing his attention back to him. "I know it looks bad, but they are being careful about this. We've still got time." He tapped the table. "Just go with the same old training routine, keep an ear out, and watch over our people. The usual. We'll figure it out, alright?"

As always, Itachi could only surrender to Shisui's unwavering faith.

"Alright…"


"…I will."

He stood in front of the cell, tiny blots of red staining the ground just shy of his feet. More tiptoed across the cement, growing larger and larger, a garden path to a pool of blood.

Every wall was painted red. Dried blood lined the inside of the cell bars, flaking like rust. There were still pieces of flesh in the corners and on the wall behind him, shriveled on top of cloudy scorch marks.

Polite footsteps approached him from the right. Itachi stayed still, focusing on every salt-tainted breath and thundering heartbeat.

"Here," Morino Ibiki said, holding out a small, iron box. "That's everything."

"Everything," Itachi repeated. The box was plain and rectangular, just wide enough to fit in his hand.

"Everything worth taking," Morino amended. "The rest aren't worth the forceps they'd be hanging from."

Itachi's knuckles turned white against the metal.

Morino leaned against the wall, seemingly unconcerned with the gruesome view before him. "Any idea how he managed a suicide jutsu around chakra suppression seals?"

"Shisui would never kill himself," Itachi said.

That twisted, scarred face turned to him, all the more oppressive for the knowing look in its eyes. "That could be true," Morino said. "But would it be any better?"

Itachi chose to open the box instead of reply.

The crushed remains of a single Sharingan stared back at him.


It was ruled a suicide.

Itachi left the funeral to hisses of muted outrage. No one in the clan believed it. Shisui was known—had been known—for his cheerfulness, his skill as a shinobi, and his pride in his work. There was no reason for him to turn on the clan or the village. And only the guilty would choose to take his secrets with him to death.

"—a silent execution—"

"Infiltration? In T&I? Don't be foolish—"

"—shame on the Hokage."

"How dare they keep this from the clan?"

His father and the clan elders did nothing to stop the whispers. They stood apart from the crowd, cold, unmoving. They knew the truth. The Hokage himself had spoken to his father, teeth gritted in barely-hidden fury, about the blood that hadn't been Shisui's mixing with arterial spray.

It didn't matter if Shisui had killed himself or not. Either option meant that the Hokage had been undermined in his own village, and the culprit had gotten away. In the end, that was all Shisui's death amounted to.

And it ached, a deep-seated hollowness that Itachi couldn't escape. He hopped over the compound's closed gates, stalked the streets he and Shisui had walked so many times before; as if tracing their steps would lead him back to the light that guided him when he felt lost, back to the friend who had always been so sure what to do next.

A wary gaze snagged on his awareness, his body tensing before he had consciously registered it. His feet came to a stop, just outside Shisui's favorite cafe. The proprietor eyed him from behind the glass walls. Her brow was drawn low, her expression unwelcoming.

The sudden change in reception dragged him out of his thoughts. More stares hooked into his skin like claws, pricking at the tender flesh beneath. He slipped into the crowd, blending in with their movements until the gawkers turned away.

The sensation pooled in his stomach, bitter with dread. Such stares had lessened in the past few months, due to the efforts of those who wished to see his clan and the village reconcile. But this… this felt like a return to before, where every bystander seemed to eye the Uchiha with apathy or suspicion.

He bowed his head and channeled chakra to his ears, the way he and Shisui had so many times before. Slowly, the conversations trickled in.

"Did you hear—"

"—that ham, yes, please—"

"Shunshin no Shisui? No!"

"—getting married in July."

"—can't believe it. The Uchiha? But—"

He followed the whispers, noting specific trends, the same thoughts repeated with different words. Quick steps took him around people's view, his lowered shoulders registering as child instead of shinobi.

Rumors swirled in the wind's eddies. Most were idle gossip, spilled today, forgotten tomorrow. But always, always, there was that underlying tone, a single thread of shock and unease, weaving in and out of the conversation's flow.

Always about the Uchiha. Always spoken with fear.

Itachi roamed the central marketplace, frustration and dread building with every step. Why this resurgence? Why today? Why did it feel like fate was spitting at his feet, when all Itachi wanted to do was sear this hollow grief away?

"—kidnapped. You don't think they were planning to release the Kyuubi again, do you?"

"Wait, I thought that was just a legend!"

"I heard they found sealing scrolls—"

Itachi stopped. He turned.

A middle-aged woman covered her lips with her hand, appalled at her own temerity. Her companions erupted in a flurry of whispers.

She had wide, brown eyes, innocent and mild. Her light brown hair was tied up in a simple bun. She was homely to the point of obscurity, a face made to be forgotten.

Even as he approached, she was already detaching herself from the group, murmuring about a nephew and some heartburn. He kept his pace quick but careless, just another person with someplace to be. Between one breath and the next, red slipped over his vision.

In the world of the Sharingan, the woman blazed against the weak sparks of the civilians around her. Her too-familiar chakra was packed around her chest and hips, drifting behind her in thin tendrils that whispered harmless, ordinary.

A henge under a layered genjutsu, bringing down the guard of any who came near.

The woman turned a corner.

No!

Itachi broke into a run. He darted around a startled shopkeeper and a frowning chuunin, chasing after that wisp of brown.

The alleyway was empty.

His fist met the wall before he could restrain it. The impact jarred, all the way from his knuckles to his elbow.

"…Damn!"

That had been classified information. No one outside of the investigation, himself, and his father had known about the sealing scrolls found in Shisui's home. That should not have been something a civilian could spout in the middle of Konoha's streets!

In all the days he and Shisui had spent hunting down the source of the malicious rumors against the Uchiha, there had only ever been one chakra signature that appeared, again and again in the corner of their eyes and in the distant crowd. This was the closest he had ever been to catching them, and they had vanished like a ghost!

"Uchiha-san," a low voice drawled. "Everything alright there?"

Itachi dropped his hand. It was the chuunin from earlier—no, tokubetsu jonin, from the subtle difference in his vest's buttons. The older man raised an eyebrow at Itachi's reddened knuckles, a senbon pinned between his teeth.

"That woman with brown hair was using a henge," Itachi said, ignoring the look. "I sought to detain her for questioning, but she disappeared down this alley."

The other shinobi's gaze sharpened. "I'll make sure to keep an eye out," he said. "Will you report it, then?"

Itachi nodded his affirmation. "Thank you," he said.

The man gave him one last, lingering look, before returning to the main street. Itachi took another moment to press a hand to his face, pulling his tattered composure back together. He headed for the opposite end of the alleyway, away from the crowds that would question him with their whispers and stares.

His knuckles still smarted from the blow.


If the goal was to sabotage the Uchiha, Shisui made the perfect target. His skill as a shinobi and outgoing personality made him one of the more public figures of the clan. Tearing down his reputation meant tearing down the exception to the perceived Uchiha norm. It reinforced the negative perception of his clan.

According to Shisui, whoever had implicated him had to have been watching him for weeks, in order to plant the evidence. If the infiltrator at the market was the same one who had planted the scrolls, then this was no simple mission. They must have been sabotaging the Uchiha for a year. Maybe even more.

After all, didn't the conflict with the clan start soon after the Yondaime's death?

The question was, who? And why?


The last time he had seen the twins was when he had brought them home from the hospital. For days now, he had been overwhelmed with soothing the clansmen, reporting to the Hokage, preparing for the funeral. Only now, at the threshold of their apartment building, did he face the question that he'd buried in the back of his mind.

Had anyone thought to tell them what happened?

Itachi almost wished someone had. But then he would remember Minako's terrified, confused face as Shisui walked away, and press on.

They deserved to hear it from him. It was the least he could do.

Yet another duty to shoulder.

He skipped the front door altogether, taking a short leap over the fence and into their backyard. Despite being a crime scene a mere week ago, it looked messily undisturbed. The pile of trash had been replaced with new ones. Any trace of blood had been washed off the only difference was a familiar team hidden in various points around the area, detectable only because Hound had silently prodded Itachi for identification the moment he cleared the fence.

Itachi pulsed his chakra in the pattern of his ANBU signature, just as something thudded against the floor of the apartment.

"ITACHI!"

Doors slammed open and shut. He had one moment to brace himself before red burst through the back door.

"What happened? Are you all right? Where's Shisui? We tried going into the compound, but Ryoji-san won't let us in anymore. Sasuke hasn't been to school and no one will tell us anything—Itachi?"

Itachi stared into her deep blue eyes and found he had no words to say. The space Shisui inhabited gaped between them, an open maw sucking the air from his lungs.

Minako's grip on his shirt tightened. His arms were stiff around her, neither restraint nor embrace. Already, he could see the truth dawning in her gaze, even as she fought to deny it.

"Itachi—"

"He's gone," he said.

The color bled from her face. She opened her mouth, but said nothing. Her small frame trembled with every breath, until the first tear spilled down her cheek.

"No… How? Why? I thought they had him under guard… I thought…" She swallowed hard. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Did they k-kill him?" She tugged on his shirt, her wide eyes pleading for him to deny it. "D-did Jiji kill him?"

"No," he said immediately. This, he knew to be true, even if the thought made his breath falter. "Hokage-sama would not have had Shisui killed. Not like this."

He believed the Sandaime when he said he wanted a peaceful resolution with the Uchiha clan. It's what they had been working for, step by agonizing step. Shisui's death had burned all their efforts into dust. At the very least, it made no logical sense for the Hokage to undermine his own power like that.

"Then, why?"

He should tell her it was a suicide. He should. But the word was acid in his mouth, eating away at his tongue.

"It's still under investigation," he said, and let himself believe it was to have mercy on a child.

Her face crumpled. With nothing else to hold on to, the dam finally burst. He stood in the middle of the yard, numb to her cries and the tears soaking his shirt, because to feel for her would mean to feel his own pain as well.

"But Shisui… he can't… Shisui can't be… no! No!"

He raised his head, searching for an escape he wouldn't take. He didn't want this. He didn't want to go through this a second time, to rage with denial and agony all over again.

That's when he noticed what was missing. "Minako-chan," he said. "Where's Naruto-kun?"

She hiccuped, wiping her face on her thin sweater. "We… we needed groceries. It's bad when we go together, and he's still worried about me, so he insisted."

He was too close for her to miss the way he tensed. Her head snapped up.

"Why? Is something wrong? Is he in danger?"

Itachi wrapped his arms around her before her panic could escalate. "Is he alone?"

"N-no. Tora-san went with him."

"Then it's fine." Behind her back, he signed, suspicious person identified—henge and genjutsu, four days ago. "The ones who took you still haven't been caught, so I got worried."

A chakra signature detached itself from the roof, possibly heading to wherever Tiger and Naruto had gone. Itachi had no real proof that the gossipmonger was connected to Minako's kidnapping, but with the state of things, it was better to be careful.

"Oh." She pressed her face against his shoulder, a blade cutting through string after string until she was limp in his arms. Drawing comfort from touch as always. Itachi ran his hand down her back, letting her take what she could from the little he had to offer.

"When—when's the memorial?" Her voice cracked.

He closed his eyes. "Funeral," he corrected her. "It was last Saturday."

"What?" She jerked back. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why wasn't—why couldn't we go? I could've—I want to—" I want to say goodbye hung in the air, thick as a poison cloud.

"Only clan members are allowed in or out of the compound right now."

The clan had taken their imposed isolation over the past few days and spitefully embraced it. They retreated into the compound, refusing all but the most necessary contact with the rest of the village.

They were in mourning, his father would say. In truth, the clan's pride seethed. Rage over a thousand injustices burned, like a pot ready to boil over. And at the very top of the list was Shisui's imprisonment and death.

Itachi could only be glad that, at the very least, the twins would not be entangled in it.

"What about Yua-san? Did she get to attend?"

He shook his head. His father had taken the time to inform her of Shisui's death himself. She had been given that much, at least.

Minako slumped. "Can we at least visit his—visit it? When we come back?"

The thought of the twins returning to the compound made the hair on the back of Itachi's neck rise. "There is…unrest," he said. "It would be best for you to avoid coming over."

"What do you mean, unrest?" She tried to pull away again. He sighed, holding her close in an attempt to soothe her.

"It's nothing for you to be concerned about," he said.

That only made Minako bristle. "It's a concern for you, so it's a concern for me!" Hands fisted in his shirt, she leaned back to look him in the eye. "Friends look out for each other, remember? There has to be some way I can help!"

"You've already done enough, Minako-chan," he said gently.

She recoiled.

He buried his wince before it could show. He hadn't—he hadn't meant it like that. If he could take the words back…

But, no. Minako had already showed a penchant for inserting herself where she had no business in doing so, especially when it involved people she cared about. If it would discourage her from doing something foolish, if it would keep her safe, then he wouldn't take it back, even if it hurt her.

He rose to his feet, a dull throb in his chest. "I should go."

The words knocked her out of her stupor. Panicked, she threw herself at him. "Wait! Itachi, wait!"

When would he learn not to underestimate her perseverance? He should leave, now, and reinforce his message.

"Please," she begged.

He gave in. Guided by her hands, he bent low, until they were almost nose to nose. Her words were so soft, he had to read her lips to understand what she was saying.

"Whatever you're thinking of, whatever you've got planned, don't do it, okay? Don't do that to your brother. Don't hurt him like that. Please, Itachi."

He stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

Her eyes widened. "I'm worried," she blurted, wringing the hem of her sweater. "People—people do reckless things when they're sad. Shisui was your best friend, dattebana. I don't want something bad to happen to you too."

What was she so afraid of? He tried to search her face, but she looked away. "I won't do anything reckless," he said.

"Promise?"

"Minako-chan."

She turned back to him. "Promise me." Her blue, blue eyes were dark and knowing, ageless in a way he had never noticed before. "Me and Shisui. Promise."

A chill crawled down his spine.

"I promise," he said.

Her shoulders slumped, and she was Minako again, tired, anxious, and mourning. Outside, a loud, high pitched voice babbled at his companion, drawing nearer by the moment.

"Do you want to…?"

"I should go," he repeated. She nodded, rubbing her eyes.

"I'll—I'll let Naruto know." Grief weighed down every word. He hesitated, then ran his hand through her hair, the way his mother would have if she was in his place. Minako hiccuped, but leaned into the touch.

He leapt for the rooftops. Behind him, he could hear Naruto call out in alarm at his sister's tear-stained face.

That knowing blue gaze haunted him for days.


He couldn't discount the possibility that an organization was behind this. Even if he only ever saw one chakra signature, that didn't mean there hadn't been others before. The infiltrator could be continuing a predecessor's work.

But there was a maliciousness to the method that made it seem personal. There were many ways to take down a Hidden Village that were faster and more reliable than a public relations disaster. The mastermind had to have a grudge against the clan, and the patience to enact his vengeance over years. They either didn't care about the village itself, or wanted to see it burn alongside the Uchiha.

If Itachi could find who was behind this, if he could find the person who orchestrated Shisui's death, then he could prove the Sandaime's good intentions and deescalate the rising conflict.

He just needed to find them.


"What is she doing here?" Elder Ryuuzo shot up from his sullen slouch.

Itachi's father paused, a step behind his wife on the stairs descending into the depths of the Naka Shrine. Itachi followed their example, letting his hand rest against the stairwell.

Okaa-san raised an eyebrow.

"No offense to Mikoto-sama, of course," Elder Ryuuzo added. "But this is no place for the Lady of the Uchiha."

His dark, wizened eyes were trained on Otou-san, clearly expecting him to answer. But it was Okaa-san who spoke.

"And where would my place be, Ryuuzo-san?" she asked. She clasped her hands in front of her, her expression serene. "With my children?"

Murmurs rose and died. It seemed even Elder Ryuuzo caught a hint of the danger in Okaa-san's tone. He held his tongue, eyeing her warily.

"But one of them is already here," she continued, tilting her head towards Itachi. "And the other was killed, just a week ago, when he should have been under the Hokage and the village's protection."

Silence slammed over the crowd with the force of a block of steel.

The coup had now grown so large, they filled the secret room to the brim. Members of the Military Police stood against the walls, leaving the center for the Uchiha Elders kneeling in seiza. In the corner was a pair of chuunin Shisui's age—his year mates from the Academy, who he'd kept in touch with, even after graduating much earlier. They pinned their gazes on Okaa-san, eyes blazing with grief and fury.

Their faces swam in Itachi's vision. He swallowed the nausea and turned away.

"Shisui-kun is not your son," Elder Nobu said, cutting through the silence. Okaa-san stared him down, the light from the fire casting her face in rippling shadows.

"I am the Lady of the Uchiha, am I not?" Her declaration was all the sharper for the coolness of her voice. "The children of the clan are my children, and one of them has just been murdered because of the Hokage's negligence. I have as much right as any of you to be here."

Whispers erupted all over again. The expressions in the room shifted, some pensive, others approving. Itachi's father crossed his arms, his support implicit in his silence.

A harsh cackle rose over the noise. "Give it up, Nobu. She'll talk circles around you until you find yourself nodding along."

Elder Kame leaned back, smug in the center of the seated Elders. She was the only other woman in the room. "Besides," she added, "Are you really going to turn away the best genjutsu user of her generation?"

The other Elder turned the color of a beetroot. The rest of the Elders shifted, but they all seemed to either agree with Elder Kame, or had had experience with her particular brand of spite before. No one else protested.

Itachi's mother held her head high, all the way to her place in front of the clan's stone tablet. She lowered her head once in Elder Kame's direction, and no more. The old lady's eyes glittered.

Otou-san sat beside her, his pride in her unmistakable in every step. Itachi settled in his usual seat, at his father's right and a little ways back.

His mother glowed with the fire of a dark star, her voice ringing throughout the room. "The village's inability to protect its people has gone on for long enough. We have tolerated being set aside, but no longer. It is time we fulfilled our duty to our people and to Konoha! It is time for change!"

Every back in the room straightened. Dark eyes shone in the torchlight, bright with passion and promise.

Itachi's gaze lowered to the ground.

He was going to be sick.


That thrice-cursed chakra signature appeared in the clan compound, chatting up the grandmother selling rice crackers. Itachi stalked it through their streets, tracking where it paused and who it spoke to.

The infiltrator vanished, just shy of the woods by the Naka Shrine. Each of his clan members offered up a different name for what had been a single man with dark hair and a charming smile. Every one of them swore he was a relative, son of this person and that.

None of those names existed in the clan registry.


"Nii-san, let's train today!"

Itachi looked up from his seat on the engawa, halfway through putting on his shoes. Any frustration on outsiders mimicking very specific clan tics withered away, in the face of Sasuke's angry pout.

"We haven't trained in ages," he continued, arms crossed. "And you promised to help me with my Housenka no Jutsu!"

The affectionate smile spread across Itachi's face without prompting. There was nothing he could do about the exhaustion tugging at the corners, but Sasuke was indignant enough that he wouldn't notice. Hopefully.

"You don't need me for that," he said. "You're doing well on your own as it is."

If Sasuke had had any other brother, his speed at mastering the Phoenix Flower Technique would have been astounding. But Itachi could summon six fireballs at the age of seven, so Sasuke must also summon six fireballs at the age of seven.

"But I want you to." Sasuke latched on to his arm, the better to peer up at him with round, pleading eyes. Itachi's smile widened helplessly. His little brother wasn't quite as good at it as Minako, let alone Naruto was, but his efforts to reproduce the effect was adorable all the same.

Gently, he pulled his arm out of Sasuke's hold and poked him on the forehead. "I'm sorry, Sasuke. Maybe next time."

He had to walk away from Sasuke's disappointed frown.

When all this was over, he would train with Sasuke to his heart's content. But right now, he needed to run to the clan archives and check their records.

He was so close to an answer. Just a little more…


Then Danzo summoned him to the Shimura clan shrine.

"We both know there is no stopping the Uchiha clan." The Elder's low rasp scraped like sandpaper across Itachi's skin. "They would drag the village into a civil war of chaos and misery with their aims.

"There is no one else. Only you can prevent this."

Itachi had the sudden, inexplicable urge to laugh. To release the despair bubbling in his lungs.

The village, or the clan?

All this effort, everything he had worked for, and he was just right back where he started.

"You must make a choice," Danzo continued. "Let the coup continue, and be slaughtered along with everyone in your clan. Or take down the clan, saving yourself… and your brother."

Any hysteria left Itachi in a cold gale. Three simple words froze the world into a picture, all too clear.

"Is that a threat?" he said.

"An offer," Danzo said. Danzo, who had been suspicious of the Uchiha from the start. Danzo, who had been incensed at the Hokage's capitulation to his father's request, who hadn't been pleased at the clan's slowly returning acclaim.

Danzo, who had been trying to extend his influence beyond what had been allocated to him for over a year.

How well Itachi had been played. Shoved against a corner, with a blade against his throat. The kidnapping jad never been meant to succeed. Danzo must've had Shisui watched for weeks, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Take Minako, implicate Shisui, and everything Itachi had worked for crumbled in a matter of weeks.

There was no one he could turn to. His father headed the coup; his mother embraced its goals. To tell them would only provoke them to act. The Hokage would never believe him. And Shisui was gone, leaving nothing to guide his way.

"And you can assure Sasuke's safety?" Itachi said.

He could almost sense Danzo's hidden smile. "I can."

Liar. Itachi looked into that wooden expression, and knew he didn't want whatever safety it had to offer his brother.

"Will you do it?" Danzo asked.

Itachi narrowed his eyes, letting his scorn shine through. He would not give this bastard the satisfaction of answering him aloud.

"Tell me one thing," he said instead. "Did you kill Uchiha Shisui?"

Danzo flinched. It was a small, nigh-imperceptible tension in his grip, shifting his cane by degrees. For the first time that night, the old man's single eye lit with an anger that burned in the shadows of his face.

"No."

Itachi turned on his heel and left. Rage, anguish, and disgust nipped at his heels as he fled the shrine.

That had been the only word Danzo had said that hadn't been a lie.


There were still pieces of the puzzle missing. Who had cast the genjutsu on Minako? Who had killed Shisui, if not Danzo? There was a shadow looming over Konoha, a sickness that went even deeper than this deepest betrayal. Itachi needed answers, and he would not find them within his beloved village, where the darkness festered.

He was a spy, wasn't he? This was the role he had been given.

Might as well play it.

He stood on the cliff by the Naka falls, letting the memories pour over him. This was where Shisui brought him when he couldn't sleep because of his first kill. This was where they ate an entire box of mochi each, until they both threw up into the river below. This was where Shisui reassured him, telling him they'd find a way to resolve the coup for sure.

"Forgive me." The bitter words were lost in the rush of the distant water. "I couldn't keep my promise after all."

To Shisui, that he would protect the clan from itself. To Minako, that he wouldn't do anything rash. To Sasuke, that he would train with him again.

Itachi leapt for the trees. The ache in his chest was a constant now, the despair shoved deep, deep down so it wouldn't get in the way of what he had to do.

Sasuke. Oh gods, Sasuke. What would this do to him? He would survive, but he would be at the mercy of Danzo, and every political powerhouse that might want a piece of the Uchiha's bloodline and clout. And there would be no one to protect him, because if Itachi survived this, he would never step foot in Konoha again.

There had to be a way to help him. Some way to help Sasuke grow stronger, to motivate him to reach his full potential. Something Itachi could do.

What if—

Don't hurt him like that. Please, Itachi.

Itachi froze. He stood on a wide branch, hidden in the thick canopy of the Hashirama trees.

Whatever you're thinking of, whatever you've got planned, don't do it, Minako had said.

Don't do that to your brother.

Shock and dread crashed into each other, his knees buckling under the force. He turned towards the village, that memory looping through his mind.

He had to be mistaken. It was impossible. She couldn't have known what he was planning, when he had only gotten a ghost of the idea at this very moment.

But the specific words she had spoken, the strange fear in her eyes when he hadn't understood…

Could she have known? Had she known all along?

Impossible.

To see the future—it was a laughable concept. The stuff of folktales and superstition.

But what if…

Too late. Below him, a man with long, ragged hair wandered towards the moss-covered ruins of a stone house, hidden in the middle of Konoha's thickest grove. Despite the flat, tiger-striped mask, he had the hair and stride of the portrait Itachi had unearthed in their clan archives.

The infiltrator, the gossipmonger, the saboteur with a meticulousness that Danzo would not have the patience for. A ghost within the shadows, the only thing that might hold the answers Itachi sought.

He didn't know what ancient techniques the man had used to survive this long. But he knew he could never speak to Minako again, not while this man still haunted the village for his vengeance.

Itachi dropped to the ground.

"Uchiha Madara."


A/N: So, yeah, about Shisui...yep sorry Danzo's hate boner for the Uchiha cannot be denied. RIP.

This entire chapter is just me trying to frantically explain this one line:

Tobi: Itachi was the only one who noticed me and figured out who I was

Me: ? Who tf would look at an intruder and say "yea that's the ghost of my clan's past makes sense"

Edited the Kushina Lives AU to become a drabble dump for all things not canon to RWTBD. For the Itachi/Minako shippers, check out the latest chapter of Every Star is a New Horizon for some death angst, hihi ^_^

Ps. You wanna cry? You really wanna cry? Listen to Skyfall by Adele after this chapter. I cried. (Actually, if this was an anime arc, the current EP would be Skyfall. Yeah, the angst train ain't finishing anytime soon. Put on your seatbelts!)