Interlude

Crystal crashed against the wall, its fragments fell onto the ground scandalously, they were bound to wake his teammate, but he didn't care enough to stop. He watched, without actually seeing, how the white light was reflected on the fragments and bounced back with purple, pink, and yellow hues, it could be a beautiful thing, but it was shattered beyond recognition. How hilarious that its ruin brought such pretty spectacle.

A new object –he didn't even try to notice what it was-, found its way to his hands and a mere second after touching his fingers, it was thrown away forcefully against the opposed wall. He didn't scream, but it was a close call, he clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, expelling the air out of his lungs harshly, but no vocal cords were involved yet.

Kisame stepped inside suddenly, the freaking moron, and was barely able to dodge the incoming missile –a piece of wood that he had ripped off from his bed; the swordsman moved aside, saw the wooden piece burst into splinters, and opened his eyes and mouth widely, "what the-" he started, but wasn't able to finish as another part of his bed collapsed next to him, forcing him to move further away from Itachi's room.

"Leave," he warned, controlling his temper just enough to pause his tantrum, sweat plastered his shirt to his frame, locks of black hair clung to the skin of his neck and forehead and a furious blush took over his paleness.

Kisame wasn't known to back out of a challenge or to be scared of Itachi, but it looked like the context in which he found him or something in Itachi's posture made him pause to reconsider his movements. He parted his lips as if to speak, then closed them forcefully, his eyes widening and narrowing just as suddenly. "Your eyes…" he mumbled and swallowed whatever followed, looking tense.

Itachi breathed through his teeth once more, his arms tensing impossibly further, he hadn't noticed he was still holding a wooden piece in his hands, and when it crashed under his strength, splinters sank into his palms; the pain was muted by his fury, and he glanced down to watch the fragments fall.

It was then that he noticed, one second he was watching his trembling hands, palms pink and wooden chips into his skin, veins popping out of his forearms; and the exact next, he saw his own chakra net, energy frenetically moving through with feral abandon. He was able to see his hands turn before he even decided to do so, and when he moved them to match what he saw in his vision, the normal gaze returned, and after a moment, it morphed to his doujutsu again. It changed once more for what might have been a couple of blinks before switching again. And again. And again.

Itachi smiled, it had been long since he grimaced in such a way, but few things were under his control at this exact moment, he glanced up, Kisame was still in the doorframe, looking slightly nervous, cautious. "C-can you, like, accidentally cast anything?" He took another step backward, narrowing his eyes.

Itachi was watching him –gray skin and naked torso, hair disheveled from sleep, then –suddenly, there it was: his energy, exposed as if his body was translucent. Itachi saw him move slightly to the right before he took the step, witnessed him scratching his scalp before he even tried to; then, mere gray skin and disheveled hair once more.

"You can stay and find out," he hissed and saw Kisame clench his jaw, his concern morphing into ire. Despite the open threat, and despite the fact that Itachi would gladly entertain Kisame if he caved into the wish of fighting him (at last), the swordsman just clicked his tongue and moved away until Itachi wasn't able to see him anymore –that is, not with his normal eyes, whenever his Sharingan activated, he was able to follow his figure through the walls of their hideout.

Alone again, Itachi was quick to indulge in his primal necessity of just destroy everything his hands could reach, and when that wasn't enough his fists were eager to create holes in any surface hard enough to provide resistance. His eyes morphed constantly, from two tomoe to three tomoe to Mangekyou and then normal again, his head pounded hard, and he paused to unclench his jaw, collapsing to his knees in sorrow.

"Sasuke…" he whispered, and as suddenly as sorrow came so did the loathing, and his forehead was quick to find the hard floor, he might have hit it twice, maybe thrice, enough times to leave a trail of blood, drops of it fell through the bridge of his nose and landed on his lips, and he licked, tasting his flavor.

His child, his child, his wonderful, innocent baby boy –he had… he was… Spirits give him the strength to compose himself, give him the strength to follow his boy, and guide him through the path he had settled for him. He had thought –he had believed… and now everything just… crashed, collapsed, crumbled before his eyes. Itachi fell to the side, his shoulder hitting the cold stone, his body limp. He exhaled the remaining of his strength, and when he was able to inhale again, the word started to spin. A concussion, no doubt, Itachi grimaced again, he had given himself a concussion.

You, good for nothing, damn idiot, he thought. Congratulations, when your brother needs you the most, you push your head through the floor.

The grimace didn't abandon him despite the hateful thought, it stretched and stretched his lips until his eyes were forced to squint, a low growl overtook his throat –he coughed, the sound wet, and Itachi suddenly thought of dying here, right here and right now, choked on his own blood, surrounded by the misery and chaos he created.

Fitting –fuck, it was fitting.

The cough did not recede, it escalated until he was barely able to breath, spit and blood flew out of his mouth ungracefully, stripping him from any remaining decorum. Saliva landed on the floor and his chin, Itachi pressed his forehead forcefully against the floor and kept coughing, his chest heavy and limbs practically unresponsive. When, finally, he was able to get enough oxygen for his lungs to stop feeling like they were on fire, he collapsed completely onto the floor. His muscles relaxing against the cold stone. Itachi's throat burned, his head pounded and the room was spinning still, he tried to close his eyes to, at least, stop the switch in between his normal eyes and his Sharingan –but the nausea became even stronger. He wasn't able to find any comfort in darkness either.

Had he possessed any strength, any strength at all, he would have laughed –his lips even tried to move as to succumb to the sudden need, but his vocal cords weren't up for the task, nor his lungs, so Itachi concentrated in just breathing: Inhale, he forced himself, exhale. Inhale, he thought, slowly breathing through his nose, and exhale, he repeated, the air moving out through his nostrils. It took such an enormous effort to remind himself to do such a basic thing properly, that he was tempted to just… stop, and leave his life in fate's hands.

Sasuke is with Orochimaru –the voice reminded him, will you leave him in fate's hands, too? Itachi blinked, felt dizzy, and reminded himself to breathe again. No, he would never, never leave Sasuke at the hands of anyone but him, not again. How stupid of him to trust Hiruzen, how foolish of him to allow the elders to have so much power over Sasuke's wellbeing. He should never have, never! How dare they –even after his warning months ago, -how dare they! Itachi gritted his teeth and forced himself to control his impulse to smash his head against the floor again. His mouth twisted, his exhale came out shaky. If he could see them, if he could just… put his hands around their throats and show them –let them experience the exact same things he did to all those kids he killed in their name… if he could just…

Itachi groaned, his muscles twisting, tensing, his fingers closing and nails digging into his palms with the need to show them, with the need to feel their pulse fading, the desire to feel their blood against his criminal hands! How wonderful would be! He promised his alliance to them, and they repaid his loyalty with the ultimate betrayal! If he could have them here, if Danzo ever came out of his cave!

Trembling, Itachi collapsed, if possible, further down on the floor, his eyes rolling up in his head, almost fainting, close enough to feel darkness eating away his eyesight, only to never reach unconsciousness.

"Spirits," Kisame's voice sounded far away, Itachi didn't move –even if he wanted to, he wasn't able to lift a single finger, he was suddenly up in the air, arms were picking him up not too gently, a hand supported his head carefully. "-you…"

Itachi didn't bother to listen to his partner, he couldn't look good, he was wounded, filthy, soaked in sweat, there was nothing that could have linked him to the person he impersonated, the mighty prodigy of Konoha lines was nowhere to be seen.

He was left on a table, Itachi didn't notice how much Kisame walked while carrying him –he wondered if he had passed out during the journey, but he couldn't remember, the roof looked exactly like the one in his room, so they were still in their hideout. He tried to move his head to the side to see his surroundings, but everything whirled, he desisted, but the world kept changing –normal, Sharingan, normal, Sharingan.

"You're in the infirmary, stop moving, let's-" Kisame suddenly went quiet, glanced at the corner of the room where Itachi couldn't see, "just… I don't know what happened. Eyes are like… changing all the time… the fuck?" He said, his head moving from his face to something behind Itachi, pointing at him as if displaying merchandise.

Someone hummed, it was a low tone, Itachi wanted to see, furthermore, he wanted to move, to stand and pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was alright (with him, with his eyesight, with his mind) and that he was still a menace, that they ought to fear him –be wary of him. If he looked at him in this state, then, what would he-

A few steps resounded in the vast space and an orange mask popped out from the right corner of his eyes. Itachi tried to clench his jaw, tried to pinch his thigh, move his hand, and even speak. His body allowed nothing, his eyes twirled, morphed, his limbs succumbed to exhaustion. The man leaned towards him, the cold material of his mask touched the tip of his nose, his single, red Sharingan pulsed with life when meeting Itachi's unrestingly gaze.

"My, my," he tilted his head to the side, his tomoes stretching, transforming, but before Itachi could see the new pattern, he blinked, and his eye was black once more. "Not so worthy of the mighty Uchiha clan it seems," he mocked, Kisame was still looking at Itachi with a concerned look, ignoring the joke. The masked man walked backward, abandoning Itachi's visual field. "Might be stress-related," he said, "he'll be fine, his eyes responded to my Sharingan."

At his words, Itachi focused his attention on his eyesight, and as he had said, the world turned… slower. It kept changing, but his gaze morphed far more slowly than before, he blinked, tried to keep his eyes closed, but nausea overtook him again.

"Let him rest," Tobi, was still speaking, "he should feel better in the morning." Morning? It had been early when he threatened Kisame, hadn't been? He saw him distressed over been woken up, it couldn't be much beyond dawn, did that mean that he spent the entire day trashing the bedroom?

Kisame looked perplexed, his eyes widening but never abandoning Itachi's frame, "but… what about the injuries?" he asked, moving around the table and also disappearing out of sight. The sound of bottles and things being moved unceremoniously interrupted the sudden silence.

"Let them be," the voice was disappearing, "he'll take care of them once he regains composure. The child." There was a scoff there, somewhere in the back of his throat, Itachi was sure.

Where did he come from? How did he leave? Was Itachi dreaming? Hallucinating? Kisame's presence returned and nothing on his stance gave away whether the encounter was real or a mere fantasy his concussed brain concocted. He moved as if knowing what to do despite his previous panic, "what about your injuries…?" The man mumbled under his breath again, and Itachi questioned Tobi's presence even further –had his Sharingan fooled him by showing him the man he feared the most? Had he been the one speaking?

Fuck –fuck this wasn't good.

"I don't care if you complain but," Kisame spoke again, Itachi was merely able to turn his head the tinniest bit in order to see him. The swordsman made a disgusted gesture when their eyes met, "your fingers are broken, like, bent sideways, so I'll take care of that at least-" he continued, his hands moving through Itachi's arms, reaching his broken bones, "-so do me a favor and pass out."

And then he pulled and thankfully, Itachi was able to do as he was told.

It was a nice day. It had been nice until then, at least. The sun was reflected in the water, the stones under the stream were visible when the calmness went undisrupted. The summon seemed mesmerized by it, and it watched –curious but also famished, when few black, tiny fishes moved around, unconcerned by the predator's presence.

There was an explosion in the roof of the hospital where Master's mission stayed, and a sudden spike of adrenaline took over the summon's chest, it lifted its head, hunger forgotten and opened its peak to allow a caw to clash against nature's other sounds. It opened his wings and in a quick flap it was in the air again, water disrupted, fishes fleeing towards safety.

Master's mission –it wasn't exactly a clear thought, crow summons weren't able to speak or communicate verbally, Master liked it that way, it was safer, and he often complained that he had enough people speaking to him on daily basis.

The crow was quick to fly towards the smoke that arose above the building and was able to see a figure fleeing the scene in hurried jumps in between rooftops, it squinted its eyes and was able to spot spikes of disheveled black hair, so he followed the figure until it stopped in the thick branch of a tree. The summon landed on a nearby railing, claws unable to dig into the hard material, it was almost too hot for comfort, but the crow did not move, not wanting to fail Master. It had been close already.

Master's mission did not move during a long time, the summon watched, just averting his eyes from the figure in order to scratch his feathers with its peak, and after a while, another figure appeared, it attacked Master's mission –it tied it up to the tree's trunk, and the summon cawed in warning, and watched –intently, to see the attacker's next move.

The man didn't attack again, and this time the crow cawed again in confusion, its head moving from one side to the other –what had been the reason for the first aggression, then? The summon did not understand, but thought that perhaps Master would, so it stretched its neck and closed its peak with a click, committing every movement to memory.

The wind picked up its rhythm, leaves moved and covered the humans' voices, and the crow tried to move closer, but couldn't risk being found when trying to have a better view.

The wire against the boy's body fell with a thud and he fled with high speed, New person watched him go but did absolutely no move to follow, and the summon waited a few seconds to make sure his flying wouldn't attract unnecessary attention.

Night settled, the crow cawed, displeased with its hunger. It flew again, deeming the boy to be safe enough for it to find the next meal: there were always corpses of hunted and abandoned animals around the city borders, sometimes even humans. Shinobi hunted, it was a common practice amongst Master's kind, and they always left some remains behind for wild animals to feed off, Master often allowed them to eat from the people he killed. Master was kind.

He returned to the last place he saw the boy entering, a small building that the summon was sure it used to be Master's house. When it landed, the first thing it noticed was the silence around the compound, it moved its head to one side and then the other, but no sound reached its ears. It wasn't common for Master's mission to be this quiet, the crow flew once more, albeit a short distance, and moved closer to the front door.

No light was on, no sound came from the inside –the summon clicked his peak and flew again, Master's mission had left and needed to be found. It moved through the sky with frenetic speed, cawing once or twice in frustration, its eyes moved frenetically across the village, but in no place was able to spot the figure he was looking for.

Master's mission has left the village, it was now time for it to return to Itachi's side and allow him to see its memories. The summon clicked its peak again: it didn't like Master's technique, it took over its body and mind when two red dots formed in the human's eyes, but they had signed a contract, and Crow would obey. Crow would be good if it meant forgiveness.

Master won't be pleased.

"No, gentler, there'll be no point to made its heart bit again if you burn down the veins and blood vessels around it."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder." Eiji's brows were furrowed, his face close to the dead fish on the table, elbows against the armchairs of his wheelchair. "You have been distracted lately, is this about your teammate?"

Ino paused and dropped her hands, her fingers played with the end of her skirt, she pursed her lips and felt her eyes sting with unshared tears, "Chöji is fine, he-" she paused, a hot feeling moving through her veins towards her limbs, her hands shook because of it while shame and anger bubbled to the surface of her skin. "Eiji."

At her calling, he glanced at her but didn't stop his motions, the fish's tail was pinched in between his fingers, thumb turning slightly white by the pressure he used to prevent the dead animal from slipping. "What is it?" He asked when her silence persisted, dropping the fish in a nearby trash can and about to turn to grab another one from the nearest pool.

"W-would you have taken me?"

Eiji seemed to trip, in a sense, his hand slipped from the wheel and he stumbled, almost falling when his upper body leaned to the side in his surprise. "What?" His voice took a high-pitched tone, nothing like the usual inflection he used to mentor her, when he glanced back to look at her, the bridge of his nose and cheeks were pink. Almost red.

"When Sasuke left," she continued, not really understanding Eiji's sudden demeanor, "to look for him."

"Oh-" Eiji sighed, his shoulders relaxing, "I… I don't know."

"Shikamaru didn't ask for me."

"Ino-"

"I'm not weak!"

"I'm sure he doesn't think-" he paused, "-you were injured, maybe he thought –or maybe he didn't even –there're so many things to consider." Eiji's words were blurted out hastily, like appeasing her was more of a priority rather than giving her an honest answer. He looked from the pool to her and to the pool again, escaping her unrestful gaze.

"I know," Ino blushed, then slapped the table because she didn't know what else to do in order to let out her frustration, she took a long breath and exhaled shakily, not wanting to succumb to her treacherous sadness.

"Why don't you talk to Shikamaru? Maybe if-"

Ino barked out a laugh and Eiji closed his mouth into a thin line, his brows furrowed again, a slight chastise, "he's a chünin now, even if I want to talk to him, I wouldn't be able to find him when he's not on a mission."

"You can try to look for him in Chöji's room." Eiji deadpanned, and took a new fish from the pool, seemingly annoyed with the topic of conversation. He slapped the fish on the table and the animal wiggled when free of his grasp, dying. Ino glanced at it with her nose wrinkled.

"It wasn't an excuse," she gritted her teeth, feeling the need to defend her reasoning.

"I'm sure it isn't," he replied, wheeling slightly away from her, "now focus, I want that fish to stay alive this time."

"My hands hurt." She complained, mostly to have something else to focus her anger on, watching her pink palms, feeling the warmth radiating off of her skin.

"You were stabbed, I think you can handle burning your fingerprints off." Eiji wheeled himself to his desk and took a sheaf of paper and started flicking through pages. His right arm stretched to take a pen, playing with it in between his knuckles, "the better you control the technique, the fewer fingerprints you lose, take it as an incentive." After a moment of contemplation, he added, "or not, I know people whose control was so awful they lost the sensation of both their hands altogether, they became good medics, tho."

"Oh, shut up," she grunted, straightening her back, Eiji threw a warning look and Ino was sane enough to return his glance with an ashamed expression, moving her fingers to perform the medical technique. "Was it you?" She asked, her hands glowing, speaking distracted her from the familiarity of the color and of whom it reminded her.

Eiji scoffed, "Spirits no, I have enough with being a cripple, wouldn't be able to handle don't feel a thing with my magic hands as well." He glanced up, narrowing his eyes, Ino forced herself not to look at him, should she look guilty or slightly remorseful, he'll give her more work to do.

"Bet the ladies go wild with that pick up line," she put a little more energy into her work, the tail of the fish slapped the table once, but didn't move further, Ino grunted, Eiji laughed softly.

"You'll be surprised," he joked, "I smell burnt fish," he stopped writing in the papers and tapped the pen on the desk, "toss it and start over –no, wait, bring it here, I'm starving."

"Ew."

"Ew yourself," he retorted, "you'll eat worst, believe me. Might as well start to get used to it, you and your team won't be able to always eat what you take to your missions."

Ino faced Eiji with a twist of her mouth and, when his eyes fixed on her, moving from her face to the way her hands twitched, she tossed the dead and slightly burned animal into the trashcan without the slightest remorse. He whined, his hand flying to his mouth to add more drama to the situation, and she rolled her eyes, "I can hunt on my own."

"You?" Eiji mocked with his eyebrow raised, "sure."

"I can!" Ino turned her hands into fists, frustration taking hold of her features again. "I'll show you!"

"Oh I'm dying to see you kill an animal much more than seen you .one-" he said through clenched teeth, but his tone was more mocking than annoyed.

"Fine! I'll do it," she moved towards the pool again to retrieve another fish, those in the water scrambled away when seeing her approach, "but I could hunt." She added, moving around the pool.

"You don't have to," Eiji retorted, infuriatingly calm, "you'll be the medic, let one of your teammates worry about the food."

"I don't need-"

"What? A team?" He rolled his eyes, "oh grow up already, this sulking is getting boring. You're the Yamanaka heir, and an Ino-Shika-Chö member both by right and obligation, make peace with that idea already or you'll find yourself alone one day, wishing to have your team with you."

"Yeah, yeah," Ino dismissed, taking hold of a fish, "whatever you say."

When the tail of the animal she was holding slapped her right across her face Eiji laughed loudly, his chuckles rumbling through the room. "Amazing," he breathed, "let that one live."

If someone asked him when it started and had he feel charitable enough to answer, it was as easy as to unwind the memory he had so preciously buried. It was so carefully wrapped in a leather cloth as to make it look unimportant, gently put in between folds of his mind, so little in size that no one would ever notice the place shouldn't they know what to look for.

Inoichi sat in silence, the woods seemed more alive now during nighttime than when the sun shined above. An owl sang and shook its feathers, insects moved around the tree trunks and the ground was cold and moisture sprinkled the grass. It had been long, too long since he dared to look at the memory, but his resolve was shaking, Ino's paleness when dying cracked his will to continue, and he needed the incentive to move forward.

He had never been this close to victory, and yet, he wasn't able to taste it in the same manner he had been able many moons ago when the treaty had been made. Even then, when he was so sure triumph would be theirs, calamity knocked on the door and spilled enough blood for him to consider surrender, but Inoichi persisted as to not allow their deaths to be in vain.

Ino was dead when he reached her during the invasion, he had lifted her with trembling muscles, her warm blood soaking his shirt and fingers, her eyes hollow. He was only able to move because one of his men had pushed him –dragged him to the nearest empty space, while the others bolted to look for a medic who could bring his daughter back to life. He stood there, unmoving, watching the corpse of her wonderful, innocent, beautiful daughter while the world screamed –roared around him, demanding him to look; but how could he when his entire universe lay limp against his chest. "Please, she isn't dead yet, let me see her, please Inoichi-sama let me see her, please," the woman was pleading, and it took five people to hold him down and peel Ino off from his fingers for the medic to work on her.

It had shaken his resolution, it had plummeted his will to the ground, he hadn't had wanted this, not this, never this –and yet it was what he achieved.

Inoichi swallowed and pushed the image away, carefully wrapping it in yellow cords until nothing of it was visible, he twisted the remembrance enough to be unrecognizable and swiftly moved it to the farthest corner of his mind, locking it in a metal box. With time, and any luck, he will be able not to think about that moment ever again, he will dream about his daughter dying any longer.

When he breathed, relieved that he had been finally able to take care of that remembrance, he reached inside one of the little folds of his mind, the smallest ones, and retrieved the leather cloth he created so many years ago. He untwined it –carefully, and exposed its contents, the memory took the form of a book, black letters against yellow pages. It was a weird way to guard a memory, most Yamanaka preferred to use some form of illustration: drawings, films, or even photographs, but there was something incredibly satisfying in reading about your own experiences, and Inoichi always ended up choosing this form to keep his recollections:

He wasn't proud of the panic that had bubbled when the bell of his house rang, but no one could blame him for the natural reaction, he had been chosen by the devil himself, forced into a dance he never signed up for.

(he had cried when precious solitude found him again, stroking Ino's baby hair with trembling fingers without daring to turn on a candle as to illuminate the space. He confided this to no one, not much because of shame, but because he might crack should he tell).

The man moved around the room as if he was not an intruder, he watched the paintings hanging on the wall with a curiosity trained to be both threatening and perfectly innocent, the candles' light barely illuminated his features, the scars on his chin were almost invisible. He wandered his fingers through the wood of the petit table in his office and raised them to inspect his pads, like expecting to see dust particles in the immaculate furniture, his expression remained the same when he returned his attention to Inoichi.

"As you might suspect, Inoichi," the man spoke giving no introductions, pretending no chivalry, Inoichi was both glad not to fake courtesy and livid by his presence. "Having a clan that can communicate telepathically without supervision is fairly dangerous."

Inoichi blinked, using all his willpower to contain his desire to flinch at the words. What he implied was preposterous, to think that the Yamanaka clan will use their techniques to betray Konoha… "I beg your pardon?" He asked, moving to stand behind his desk.

Danzo did not reply immediately, moving slowly towards a chair. He sat with a faint sigh when he rested his weight on something else than his legs, his cane in between his hands. "Maintain composure, head of the clan. I'm not accusing you of anything..."

Yet, Inoichi thought but replied nothing, his open hands rested on the desk, he remained standing, he wanted to give him no breathing space, no sense of familiarity.

"But it would be in good faith and for Konoha's interest to give us one of your soldiers. Small price to pay to show us your loyalty, don't you think?"

"To give you, you mean." Inoichi replied, "Konoha has access to all of my soldiers, doesn't it?"

Danzo smiled faintly, nodding softly at Inoichi's words. "Of course, of course. I'm not questioning your services nor those of your family thus far. But as a clan leader you must know how important it is to have control over your people, don't you? Can you blame me for doing the same?"

Inoichi almost bits his upper lip, it was a lucky thing that the old man wasn't watching him, choosing then to deviate his attention to one of the paintings. "Yamanaka have never communicated telepathically inside Konoha's borders, the amount of skill that is needed to connect every clan member to our network is immense. It's a feat never accomplished before."

"But it can be done if someone is… prodigious enough, can it?"

Inoichi swallowed, the implications and reasoning behind Danzo's actions were too clear now, the man had undoubtedly come prepared. How long had he been watching over them? "Besides," he tried to continue, ignoring Danzo's remark. "We have to be in direct contact in order to transmit our thoughts."

"Ah, there's where you lie," Danzo raised a finger and pointed at him, a smile reaching his lips, "you need to be in contact with a person to transmit their thoughts if said person is not a Yamanaka, but in between your kin, you're more than capable of communicating, are you not?"

Inoichi did bit his lips now, self-control abandoning him, Danzo's smile widened, "only if the anchor is capable enough to connect us all."

"Which means that the better the anchor, the more people can speak telepathically, no?" Danzo moved on his chair, gently tapping his walking cane on the floor. "So, let's imagine a prodigy is born, someone strong enough to be that anchor. To be able to connect every single Yamanaka member with each other-"

"-what you're implying," Inoichi interrupted, "is crossing a line, Danzo. I thought you were a smart man, should I remind you that the Hokage is a Sarutobi member? His clan swore to protect us."

Danzo's smile shrunk, but he did not look deterred, "exactly, Inoichi, he is the Hokage. And… as I'm sure you know, Konoha is above any clan oath."

"No." Inoichi shook his head, "Hiruzen would never allow this."

"Hiruzen has no say in affairs approved by the council."

"You're lying."

"Am I now?" Danzo tapped his walk cane on the floor once more, "we both are aware that I'm not regarded with high esteem by many –if not all, clan heads, and many of them have complained directly to the Hokage about me and my… behavior. Nothing was done, old friend."

"I am not your friend."

"You're also not my enemy, nor Konoha's, aren't you?" Inoichi pursed his lips and felt anger rise through his veins, the old man had succeeded in cracking his mask. "I'm only asking for a single child, Inoichi."

"So you can corrupt him to obey you and forget his clan?"

"So I can trust you."

"No." Inoichi deadpanned "I will not give him, I will not give you anyone."

Danzo stood slowly, resting his weight on the armchair, "dare I say," he continued, "Shibi Aburame was also adamant to bend to me when I approached him with a similar proposition, he even tried to dissuade Hiruzen as to gain the Hokage's favor."

Inoichi swallowed.

"Needless to say, in the end, he had to bend, Inoichi. Don't assume support that you don't have. Let us stay amicable and yield, we both know I will succeed one way or another."

"I apologize, Danzo-sama, but I will sell none of my people." He replied and watched Danzo stand shakily –faking no doubt, and move towards the door.

"That's the second lie you introduce into our conversation, dear Yamanaka leader," he said, "you have already sell them all." He paused then, turning slightly to look at him, "congratulations are in order, I think, on your newborn."

"If you ever-"

"Now, now," the man interrupted him, "let's not say things we'll regret later, shall we?" He smiled again, "let us hope you're able to stay with her, wouldn't be awful for you to leave such a fragile creature unattended?"

"Danzo-"

"The child, Yamanaka." The man turned again, walked away calmly, the cane echoing in between his walls, "I'm just asking for the prodigy -Fü, isn't he? surely that's nothing when compared to your heir?" Danzo paused on his speech to open the door with such a calmness that it made Inoichi's heart skip a beat, "I'll collect him when the time comes."

The door closed with a soft click, and Inoichi's knees buckled.

A/N: I have many things to say, so prepare for a long note:

1) I was so pleased when I thought about the Sharingan activating and deactivating due to stress, and then it dawned on me: I read that somewhere else. Shame on me. You can see the original creator of the idea by reading Vehemence, of Dastaan Go. I personally love the story, but be warned: It's dark and has a very particular sense of humor. I love the writing style, the characterizations, and story in general, so if you feel like it, you can check it out.

2) The summon scene it's the narration of what happened before Itachi's meltdown, that is, the reason behind it (Sasuke leaving Konoha). However, I wrote it after typing Itachi's scene, and I just couldn't bring myself to start the chapter with a phrase other than "Crystal crashed against the wall," I feel like is a much better opening than "it was a nice day." Apologies if it was a confusing sequence.

3) The telepathic communication ninjutsu that Inoichi and Ino used in the war, while not canonically expressed, seemed to rely on both of them as anchors to receive Shikaku and Shikamaru's thoughts and pass them on to the rest of the Shinobi Alliance. In that sense, Inoichi had to rely on the Chakra Transmission Communication Device to be able to transmit Shikaku's plans through big distances, while Ino was able to perform the same task without any assistance.

The fact that Yamanaka members can communicate without the need of touching people is a canon occurrence, after all, both Ino and Inoichi were able to transmit their thoughts to other people that they were not touching, only having to be in contact with Shikaku or Shikamaru to transmit their thoughts.

I decided, as you might see, to explore more that jutsu, it seems a strong complementary (for now) technique that can put the Yamanaka clan above many others when it comes to planning, investigation, and why not, manipulation.

I gave a non-canon (because it was never clarified) explanation on how the telepathic technique works, the only thing I was able to find about it was on the entrance of Ino's character on the Fourth Databook, and I shall quote it here: "With her abundance of gentle-hearted sensitivity, Ino receives the thoughts of her comrades and draws them together."

4) This is the end of PART ONE! The next chapter is the begging of Part Two! YEY!