A/N: I'm trying to continue this story for someone professional. I hope he's reading.
Disclaimer: Nothing in the world belongs to me but...
Chapter 9 – Phantom
Madara and Black Zetsu stepped from the void, an eerie stillness broken only by a ripple in the air. They found themselves in the serene village of Tenshi, bathed in the gilded light of dawn. The village unfolded before them, with quaint rooftops stretching under the rosy-fingered sunlight.
The silver rivers glimmered, and the grass and leaves sparkled as if coated in beads of nectar. Wispy trails of mist danced and curled in the breeze, carrying the fresh scents of a waking earth.
Madara gazed pensively into the distance, his short ebony hair tousled by the gentle caress of the breeze. His thoughts turned toward the prodigal heir of the Uchiha clan. Itachi had grown from a promising boy into an unnervingly cunning man, having witnessed firsthand, over the years, his motives shrouded behind an impassive veil.
It would be unwise to underestimate the lethal talents Itachi kept sheathed behind that calm exterior. The subtle tensions in his posture betrayed the relentless purpose with which he pursued this white-eyed girl from Konoha. What was the younger Uchiha's endgame?
Black Zetsu watched as the morning light slowly revealed and then obscured shifting expressions on Madara's face, like passing clouds casting sun and shadow. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, blending seamlessly with the surrounding environment. It was White Zetsu, the other half of the Zetsu duo.
Obscured partially by tendrils of opaque fog, White Zetsu crouched on an overlooking crag. His form was so still and colorless that he almost blended thoroughly into the pale stone. Only the occasional twitch of his coils betrayed the presence of an observer concealed amidst the rocks.
Black Zetsu turned his attention towards the newcomer, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. White Zetsu teased, "So, you finally decided to pay him a visit?" Madara replied, brows slightly raised, a playful note in his voice.
"Watching Itachi tracking his latest fascination? What secrets might he unravel this time?" White Zetsu's eyes silently greeted his black half, and the three prepared to make a move.
As the morning sun rose over the village, the sky turned a more transparent blue.
By the way, today…" the orange-masked man—Obito now, not the legendary Madara—grinned. "It's just me. Though Itachi's undoubtedly drawn here by some enigma, he's not the only ghost stirring in this mist."
The rhythmic pattern of footfalls, three sets in sync.
"I liked playing along with the whole Madara charade, but... okay, Obito-kun," White Zetsu teased, a mischievous grin twitching on his lips.
Bleak predawn light seeped into the room as Hinata returned from the onsen, a chill lingering in the air. The room was empty. She snatched a dry towel and stepped onto the inn's porch. Pale lavender hues bloomed across the dark sky as she sat, overlooking the slumbering village of Tenshi.
She sensed Kakashi's approach before she heard his footsteps. He joined her on the porch, but she could read the pensive look in his one visible eye.
The raucous cry of a crow pierced the quiet dawn. Kakashi tensed, the sound wrenching him back to that fateful mission, echoes of the past merging with the haunting visions that had plagued his sleep.
He could almost smell the tang of blood in the air as vivid images from last night's nightmare flashed before his eyes again. Phantom screams and battle cries rang in his ears. The gentle morning chill now penetrated his bones deeply, evoking spectral touches from his dream. He squeezed his eye shut, a ragged breath escaping him.
"Kakashi-sensei?" Hinata's whispered call pierced the nightmare's grip.
An eyelid flickered open, his muscles tensing as he avoided her gaze. "Fine," he snapped, voice barely above a growl. He turned his back, shoulders hunched. He could feel Hinata's concerned eyes following him as he strode ahead, steps stiff, desperate to escape the phantoms trailing his every step.
"Cr... crisp," he muttered, eyes flickering open before squeezing shut. "Stepping out of the onsen always… stings a bit."
Hinata nodded, patting her long hair with a towel to dry the last moisture from her morning bath.
Soon, Shino and Kiba emerged, looking fresh from the onsen, followed by Akamaru. They gathered their gear and equipment, ensuring everything was ready for the long-tracking mission.
Kakashi beckoned them over wordlessly where Hinata was seated. With a swift flourish, he unrolled a set of parchment scrolls and held them out to each member of Team Eight in turn. Strange characters and symbols marked their surfaces.
He scrutinized the seals, flipping through them. A guidepaper explaining the seals was inserted in the crate with everything else. He spent a minute reading it.
Kakashi gathered a set of scrolls marked with intricate black sealing formulas.
"These seals contain a repertoire of elemental jutsu. To activate them, first mark the scroll with a drop of blood to attune it to you."
Team Eight pricked their thumbs and let crimson drops stain the parchment. Ancient script swirled out where their blood met the scrolls before fading to black. The clinking of dishes and utensils caught his ears for a moment as the staff prepared for the morning meal inside the tea garden.
"Now, use the 'Rabbit' hand seal to trigger the magics," Kakashi continued. "Each scroll harbors five elemental jutsu in a fixed sequence—fire, then water, wind, lightning, and earth. So, you'll deploy a fire Jutsu the first time you make the seal. The second time, a lightning attack, and so on. The seal magic will deploy any Jutsu you announce by name. So, knowledge of elemental Jutsu names comes in handy. You should remember some Jutsu names and what they did for the written Chuunin exam last time. I hope you still remember them."
He handed a scroll to each of them. "The elemental magics' shape and form is unique to your chakra. Don't waste their power."
Eagerly, Hinata, Shino and Kiba accepted, awed by these new enhancements to their jutsu repertoire. Each scroll now hummed with potential, awaiting the Rabbit seal that would unleash incredible destruction upon their foes.
"We have six seals, but each of you will have one. Save the other three for the next mission. Use them judiciously," he instructed the enthralled trio.
"We will divide other prizes we've won after the mission. We don't have to worry about food now. I have asked the tea garden to prepare a complete bento we can have three times a day during the mission. The bento will last seven days; we'll go to the tea garden next for breakfast and move toward the shrine after I seal all of them. Each of you will have seven bento seals. If the mission takes longer, we'll resort to food pills."
"The food won't spoil?" Kiba raised an eyebrow. "So, like... forever? Because if I can stash snacks in these things..."
"When sealing, you are manipulating matter and tampering with molecular motion. So, anything kept inside the seal can be preserved," Kakashi lectured.
He unfurled another storage scroll, this one marked with ominous black script swirling in forbidden patterns.
"Sealing techniques also let us touch the essence of things—whether objects...or bloodlines. The process necessary to extract the Byakugan fully intact invokes complex sealing lore akin to this."
Kakashi's gaze grew momentarily distant before refocusing on his students.
"Gruesome methods designed to bind those eyes to a new host, transforming stolen birthright into a living weapon."
Shaking his head, Kakashi re-secured the sinister scroll. "But we won't let things progress that far. I promise you." Hinata managed a brave smile despite the chill creeping down her spine.
"And I bet if our master were anyone else, that hot bento would be all squished, or mold—" His eyes widen. "Whoops– uh, sorry, Kurenai-sensei! Not that– you're... great too!"
"Let's go to the tea garden," Kakashi interjected, one eye smiling.
"Hey, wake up, you lazy cat! You've got a mission to complete," a voice called out, jolting him from his slumber.
"Huh?" he groggily responded.
"Get up. Come on! Late... we're already late..." The voice faded with a frustrated breath.
Black hair ribbons shimmered in the blinding sun, dancing against his cheek.
Confusion rippled through him—had she been there? His hand darted out, grasping empty air. He tore his eyes open with a jolt, squinting against the harsh light.
It was just a dream.
Desperately, he tried to grasp the fragments of the distant memory, struggling to remember what she looked like. Her face remained blurred, teasing him from the depths of his mind. Did the girl with white eyes bear any resemblance to her? Or was it all just a figment of his imagination?
Childhood memories seeped into his weary mind—her long raven hair dancing in the interlacing sunbeams, her gentle touch on his face. Itachi forcefully pushed these memories away, suppressing his trembling breath.
Still, her face eluded him.
There was no room for ghosts here. He fortified himself against the pain clawing at his heart, both inside and out. The tormenting echoes of fractured memories and the accusing whispers of the dead could be ignored... for now.
Rising from his futon, his body weary but determined, he gathered his belongings and stepped out of the small room the innkeeper had provided. The morning sun crested over the lonely hills, casting an eerie blood-red glow that tainted Itachi's skin, making it appear feverish. Strange phantoms flickered at the edges of his vision, wreathed in crimson, and filled with gloomy faces.
Shaking his head sharply, he banished the gruesome mirages. Clarity was needed for the task ahead—eliminating the Hyuuga threat.
The crows had told him of a nearby waterfall. That would be his destination for now.
After a hearty breakfast and a brief discussion with Kamiya's team, consisting of the red-haired Iwa Jounin and fifteen members, including three kunoichi, they prepared to move into their allotted mission site. Their objective was to navigate the forest independently, using the map as their guide and their senses as their compass, alert for any signs of unusual activity.
The four of them silently ventured deeper into the forest, their footsteps fading into the rustle of leaves beneath ancient trees that stood tall like guardians. Sunlight speared through the dense canopy, leaving patches of darkness as sharp as blades.
Each step was a gamble, teetering between discovery and peril as they pressed forward.
Upon reaching their designated location, they halted and crouched under the dappled shade. Kakashi proceeded with the final briefing. The three younger ninjas huddled close around him focused intently on the map. His voice resonated with authority as he outlined their plan.
"We will split into two teams for safety. Hinata, you'll remain with me. Shino and Kiba will scout the western ridgelines, while Hinata and I will cover the eastern ridgeline. We'll signal Kamiya's team with a fire jutsu if we engage the enemy. There is no need to waste your seal elemental jutsu; just send me a message, and I'll deploy the fire jutsu. Kiba, I'll need to borrow your Nag Scroll. Notify me upon contact. Rest assured, I'll take good care of it. Are we clear?"
Kiba offered a thumbs-up, a hint of hesitation, before he handed over his Nag Scroll, which Kakashi carefully secured inside his jacket.
Kakashi stabbed a finger at a spot halfway between the western and eastern ridgelines where a winding stream snaked through the lush foliage.
"This is our destination," he declared. "We will meet here by sunset to rest and refuel."
"Got it," Kiba replied, while Shino and Hinata nodded.
"Remember, as we enter potential enemy territory, we must remain vigilant and conceal our presence. Keep a sharp eye out for any sign of activity. You know what to do upon enemy contact. Good luck."
With a final nod, they dispersed into the woods, each carving their path, braced for the challenges ahead.
Uchiha Itachi sat beneath the cascading waterfall, its thunderous roar drowning out the world beyond. The icy water pounded relentlessly against his back, each droplet a sharp, cold kiss against his skin, refreshing and cleansing.
His hair was plastered to his forehead. Blood wouldn't wash out so easily... Each droplet kissed his lashes, shimmering—yet the world still bled through. The water tasted clean. Sweet. It wasn't meant for drinking.
She had long haunted him, a spectre in the fog of his memory. Her face was a blur, a watercolor painting left out in the rain, the details smeared and washed away. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring her into focus.
He could recall the curve of her cheek and the sweep of her hair, but her features remained elusive, vanishing like a dream upon waking every time. It was like trying to pin down a shadow. The harder he tried, the more the image seemed to fracture and distort, leaving him with nothing but fragments of a memory that refused to be pieced together.
He raised his hands, letting the water wash over them, but he could still see her blood there, coating his hands and glistening as it dripped into the water.
'Let me see your face once more because I need to know. To understand this…"
This attraction.
There was only one way to ascertain.
He watched as white froth bubbled at the base of the waterfall, where the relentless force of the water churned the clear pool into a frothy frenzy. He hoisted himself up, leaving the waterfall's cascade to a dry area nearby. An orange aura cloaked his body, drying him off.
He dressed, sheathed his Katana, donned his straw hat, and headed in the direction the crows had indicated.
Sunlight cut thin beams through the narrow windows of the healing chamber, the harshness at odds with the quiet within. Under the stark light, the injured guards seemed more brittle and less alive.
The Iwa interrogator leaned in. No scalpel or needle held power here; his tools were unseen. Entering a state of trance, normal eyes turn to matte black as if shrouded in black mist, staring down at the closed lids of the guard, not seeing but penetrating.
Each breath the guard drew whirred in the psychic's skull, a hollow metronome counting down time. One day. Ordinary. Meeting Kakashi—pride swelling. Long hours under the sun—boredom seeping into bone. And then... a shiver down the psychic's spine. Something shifted.
The stranger approached, a cloaked figure unremarkable until… something off, a tickle of wrongness, the guard registered with the slowness of surprise. Blackness swirled behind those strangers's eyes, then bloomed to crimson: a nightmare made manifest.
The psychic jerked as though slapped across the mind. His heartbeat thundered over the rhythmic dripping. Fear slithered cold between his ribs, not witnessed but felt. He knew those eyes. Too well.
Pulling back was akin to tearing himself up from quicksand. His lungs ached. The healer beside the bed squeaked, then choked on her gasp. It was a chorus that he barely registered.
"Clan Slayer Uchiha Itachi," the psychic rasped, the name poison on his tongue. His gaze swept the stunned faces. None met his eyes. "He was here. Last night. We must... we must alert..."
The shadows lengthened as they neared the rendezvous point. Shino and Kiba emerged from the undergrowth first—their senses were still alert. No words were exchanged; a subtle nod from Shino confirmed the lack of enemy contact. Moments later, Kakashi and Hinata drifted from the tree line, their presence barely disturbing the rustle of leaves underfoot.
They selected a spot near the stream, concealed by a cluster of ancient ferns. The soft gurgle of water provided a soothing backdrop against the tranquil sounds of the forest. There was a shared understanding—a reprieve without fully letting their guard down.
Kiba stretched with a satisfied groan, Akamaru circling excitedly. "Finally, some grub!" He broke the bento seal, a ripple of chakra washing over the parchment.
"Tonkatsu would be awesome right now..." Disappointment shadowed his face as a different aroma wafted out—rich and fragrant, but it was a bowl of Chicken Gyoza Ramen.
Shino remained silent, perched on a fallen log. The gentle hum of his insects was the only sound he made, seemingly in constant communication with his unseen companions.
Hinata leaned against a tree trunk, watching Kakashi. His shoulders were less rigid, but weariness etched itself in the faint lines around his eye. She unclipped her water flask, offering it to him without a word. He accepted with a slight tilt of his head, a hint of a smile concealed beneath his mask.
The sun slipped below the treetops. A cool breeze whispered through the leaves. After having their dinner, each of them spent time in the stream to clean themselves. As the last vestiges of daylight faded, Kakashi, with effortless proficiency, began to assemble a small campfire. His hands moved deftly, arranging the dry twigs and leaves into a neat pile. A spark of chakra from his fingertips ignited the kindling, and soon, a warm, inviting fire crackled to life. The flickering flames cast a warm, orange hue on his face, softening the hardened lines of fatigue.
Shino watched as Kiba and Akamaru unfurled their sleeping bags near the fire. The aroma of burning wood filled the air, and the crackling sound of fire-burning wood slivers accompanied them into the brightness of dreamland.
The campfire had burned out, leaving behind a small mound of ash and charred wood. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-kissed leaves and the faint rustle of wildlife stirring to life. The first light broke, and Kakashi was the first to awaken. He sealed his sleeping bag and headed to the stream for a morning bath.
As the sun rose higher, the forest came alive with the sounds of nature. After the younger trio rose and freshened themselves, the team packed up their camp, their movements efficient and practiced. They enjoyed a quick meal from their seals before heading back to their designated ridgelines to scout for the enemy.
The hot afternoon air hissed with the buzz of insects; a constant low-level drone overlaid by the occasional sharp whine of a cicada. Kiba fanned himself with a hand, sweat trickling down his neck and dampening the back of his shirt.
"How much further?" he grumbled. Sweat plastered Akamaru's thick fur to his ribs, and the dog panted noisily as he loped ahead, nose to the ground.
"Patience," Shino replied from behind his mask and sunglasses, not a bead of sweat visible. The only indication of exertion was his chest's faint rise and fall. He moved with unnatural smoothness through the underbrush, leaving scarcely a rustle in his wake.
Kiba made a show of pushing past a branch with an exaggerated sigh. The sharp scent of pine needles hung in the heavy air. "This feels like a wild goose chase."
Akamaru suddenly perked up, tail whipping rapidly. He broke into a trot, tugging Kiba along. "Maybe you spoke too soon!"
They emerged from the trees onto a rocky outcropping. The wind whipped across the bare stone, a welcome relief from the suffocating heat of the woods. From this vantage point, Kiba could see the distant shimmer of the shrine complex and the low foothills sprawling between them.
Hinata and Kakashi would be somewhere to the left, their keen eyes surely catching details Kiba couldn't even imagine.
Beside him, Shino stood in restless anticipation, his senses stretched into the unseen, like antennae seeking a signal. Then, in a rare display of animation, he raised a hand. "Hold."
Kiba halted, brows furrowing. He sniffed the air, but all he got was dust and a whiff of something metallic from the earth underfoot. Then he heard a rhythmic squeak, the rasp of leather against rough cloth, just on the edge of his senses.
But not Shino's. His friend looked directly at a copse of trees downslope. From beneath his hood, a soft buzzing grew louder. One beetle, then two, then seemingly dozens of his insects flitted from under the dark shadows of the trees and up into the clear sky.
He lowered his hand and fixed Kiba with a stare. "It would seem... something finds us more appealing than playing 'hide and seek.'"
The grin Kiba couldn't hide was answer enough. They were back in the hunt.
Something felt off as they were entering the second day.
Hinata's heart hammered as she activated her Byakugan. The forest flared to life–each leaf and swaying branch outlined in chakra. Kakashi stood beside her, utterly still, his gaze sweeping the undergrowth.
"Which way does the wind carry?" His voice was a low whisper against the rustle of leaves.
Hinata focused. "Northwest," she replied, her voice barely audible. A prickle of apprehension ran down her spine. Something unnatural stirred within the breeze.
Moving cautiously, Kakashi's steps seemed strangely uncoordinated. A knot tightened in Hinata's stomach. That wasn't right. His posture, the stiff angle of his neck... Was that even Kakashi-sensei?
The figure ahead shifted. She recognized the sharp features and wicked grin as the disguise warped away.
"Banshi?" Hinata choked, the name barely escaping her lips. A giggle floated through the clearing, sweet and girlish like Hinata half-remembered.
Her heart jolted. No... that was wrong.
"Such pretty eyes to lose..." her voice like poison honey.
A flicker of movement—just a trick of the fading light. Then, cold laughter echoed around her, closer and closer, but Banshi was nowhere to be seen.
Then, darkness slammed over Hinata. As Banshi faded into mist, an icy wave of dread washed through her. Her Byakugan desperately searched but found nothing.
Suddenly, the world bled with color. Sounds echoed distantly, the forest transforming into a desolate monochrome wasteland. Fear gnawed at her, but somewhere inside, a stubborn core ignited.
This was genjutsu—an illusion.
Closing her eyes, Hinata imagined her chakra like a river. Focusing with fierce determination, she willed the flow to break, to surge free of this deceptive control.
When her eyes snapped open, the vibrant forest greeted her once more. Kakashi still stood in front of her, his brow furrowed in concern. Her pulse rattled in her ears as she recounted the vision. Had she broken the genjutsu, or was this just another layer of illusion?
As if realizing something, Kakashi turned his head. His black eye held a glint of worry. "Hinata," he began, his voice steady yet laced with an underlying concern. "Is everything okay?" He asked, his gaze piercing through her. Something flickered in the depth of his eye—worry, but also...something else.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Her heart twinged, remembering the anguish etched on his face she wasn't meant to see that morning. She met his gaze, forcing a steady voice, "I'm okay." But Kakashi's eye narrowed, worry etched deeper than before.
The dense forest closed in around Kiba and Shino. Shadows danced overhead, dappled sunlight barely piercing the thick canopy. Damp air smelled of earth and rotting leaves, and every rustle of the undergrowth seemed amplified in the hush.
"Hey, they wanted Hinata's eyes. She said that the woman wanted to take her somewhere, though. Don't legends usually talk about eyes getting snatched, dead or alive? Why the hassle?" Kiba's voice broke the near-silence.
Shino remained impassive. "You haven't delved deep enough into the legends."
Kiba scratched his head, his brow creased. "Wait, back up. I'm lost—what do you mean?"
Shino's fingers grazed ancient bark. "There is an obscure fuinjutsu that enables the transfer of a dojutsu between living wielders. We can't underestimate how far our enemies will claim such power."
Kiba's jaw dropped. "You mean—with someone alive?"
"Some choose to avoid… potential complications. A living target is necessary. If an eye isn't native to you, there's a risk—you can't always turn it off if you don't use the Fuinjutsu. Chakra drains..."
Kiba's mouth fell open. "Oh, you mean, like our sensei with his weird eye? How did you know this jutsu?"
A ghost of a smile touched Shino's lips.
"I had perfect score for jutsu names in the Chuunin exams."
Kiba's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of awe and amusement dancing in his gaze. "Oh, so you studied it."
"Also, Kakashi-sensei already spoke of this Fuinjutsu during the mission briefing," Shino alerted.
Kiba raised his shoulders. Oh well...
The forest seemed to hold its breath as the duo continued their search, the secrets of the shadows whispering in the air. Each step forward revealed more questions, and with each answer, the intricate web of their mission unraveled.
Pine needles and warm earth filled Kakashi's senses as he followed the forest trail. They approached a small clearing, sunlight slicing through to create a blinding patch on the moss.
And in that flash, the clearing became a rough-hewn tunnel, dripping with dampness. His breath hitched.
Angle thing, he tried to reason, but Chidori flickered before him, all too real. Hinata blurred into Rin, stumbling as they fled deeper into the cave.
"Just a little further..." Her voice echoed his memory.
Should have seen the trap! His focus should have been unwavering.
Then the crow—that damned crow—its call was tearing through him. Kakashi flinched, and Rin's panic etched onto his vision—another ambush, inevitable to fall on Hinata. A fist clenched.
"Kakashi-sensei?" Hinata's voice was distant. Then again, more apparent, edged with worry. Her touch on his arm—echoing Rin's desperate grasp?—finally broke the illusion. Hinata's concerned eyes held his—alive, unharmed. He forced a step forward, then another.
Damn crow, that was all. He had to control this.
Charred flesh in his nostrils, screams ringing loud enough to burst his eardrums. Kunai shaking, he slashed at the air, eyes wild. Hinata watched, hesitant to step into his storm. His posture slackened abruptly, a ragged breath escaping. He avoided her gaze, focused on the shifting foliage.
"Let's keep moving," he ordered, tone sharp. He moved past her, the taut line of his shoulders echoing the tension within.
The screams consumed him, terror and agony on endless loop. The smoke choking him wasn't just memory.
Desperation surged. Protect...but from what? Hinata's face morphed into Rin's bloodied one, eyes pleading as shadows shifted, ready to pounce.
"Rin, no!"
His cry—ragged, wordless—ripped from him as his limbs turned to weapons. Kunai slashing, not at enemies, just empty air. His breath rasped, lungs fighting the phantom smoke.
And through it all, Hinata's voice: "Kakashi-sensei! No, stop, please!" Her hands were on his face, but he flinched. In her terrified eyes, he saw his failure reflected.
"Behind you!" he snarled, spinning. Muscles protested, and his body buckled, but the kunai struck, sinking into solid bark. The impact jolted him out of the worst of it.
Screams faded, and Hinata's frantic call took their place.
"Sensei..."
Kakashi slumped to his knees, shaking. Kunai fell. This forest wasn't a battlefield anymore but a trap, every whisper prelude to failure and loss. Then, the fog receded, and Hinata knelt beside him, worry turning to... pity?
He swallowed, unable to voice the shame. The scent of blood was gone, replaced by earthy moss. Trees were solid and harmless. Breathing ragged, too loud, even against the fading cries in his head.
And through that blessed quiet came the crushing weight of what he'd revealed.
The crows were brilliant creatures, a silent chorus of spies. They made themselves known only when it suited them. At other times, they watched.
From his perch, Uchiha Itachi mirrored their stillness. Below, Kakashi moved with practiced ease, the epitome of a protective shinobi. Even back in ANBU, the man would never hesitate to shield another, heedless of his own life. It was as ingrained in him as… well, a crow's instinct for carrion.
He understood that impulse. There was a respect in it, perhaps a twisted mirror of his own desires. For years, Kakashi courted death.
Itachi felt a familiar twitch, a phantom echo of a hand raised for Chidori. To offer that release... It tempted him, but the time hadn't come. Not yet. This particular haunting of Kakashi's held too much promise.
His genjutsu was merely a nudge, now the dance with the girl would begin.
Blood-red eyes glinted amidst the leaves, patient and pitiless as the grave.
Panic tightened its noose around her chest. Had she done this?
She knew there were risks with Kakashi-sensei on the mission, but this... this was beyond her worst fears. Witnessing his breakdown, that wild ferocity fueled by unseen terror was unlike anything she'd experienced.
And the terror had washed over her, too, as she realized his haunted eyes weren't seeing their surroundings, nor even her. He was lost in another war, fighting on another battlefield.
He'd fallen still now, and some instinct kept her hand on his slumped shoulder. Not in comfort but as an anchor to try and keep both of them grounded in the present. His breathing remained ragged, and something deep inside her recoiled with a pang of guilt akin to physical pain.
Was this another consequence of what she'd learned about those Uchiha eyes? And if so... how could she protect him?
This was a different enemy than Banshi. No Jutsu she knew would help now. The danger came from within, and all her training left her feeling useless and inadequate. Her secret knowledge had thrust her sensei into this living nightmare, and she alone seemed powerless to pull him free.
Her heart twisted.
It felt wrong, almost selfish, but a fierce clarity pierced the chaos. Protecting Kakashi-sensei, even from himself, might mean creating distance.
Her mind raced, seeking any answer amidst the despair. If their enemy aimed to take her and her eyes, perhaps she could exploit that.
Drawing attention away from the team, from Kakashi-sensei... It was a dangerous gamble, but the alternative felt like surrender. A plan began to take shape, desperate and harrowing. She felt a pang for Shino and Kiba, but right now, she needed them away, safe. Even just briefly.
A shaky breath escaped her lips, mirroring the trembling in her knees. She couldn't bear to look into those haunted eyes any longer. Hinata slumped at the base of a towering oak, numb at the sight of Kakashi unresponsive.
She knelt before him, hesitantly taking his limp hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Kakashi-sensei," she choked out.
"Please forgive me for leaving you like this. I swear—I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."
Her fingers trailed down his sleeve. "I won't let you face those demons alone. Not anymore. This is all because of me...my cursed eyes," she whispered, a sob catching in her throat. "I have to make this right."
Slowly, she brushed white strands back from his forehead, a tender gesture. "I will come back for you. I promise." Then, with a heart torn apart, she pushed herself up.
She did not look back; fearful she would lose her nerve. She plunged alone into the shadows for his sake, carrying both burden and a flutter of desperate hope. To save Kakashi-sensei, she needed to find a way into the enemy's grasp. Leaving her team, and walking away from her mentor, might be her only shot.
Hinata surveyed their surroundings with her Byakugan, veins pulsing as she stretched her vision to its limits, desperate for any sign of an enemy presence that could be tormenting her sensei.
Through the dense tangle of trees, she glimpsed a distant flash of movement—a lone shadow detaching itself from the thick foliage.
She focused with fierce intent, heart freezing as detail emerged from the hazy silhouette. Crimson-clouded eyes set against pale skin, framed by raven hair. Even at this distance through forest and stone, she recognized him instantly.
Itachi-san!
The phantom image rippled as a murder of crows erupted into the sky. In a blink, Itachi's figure dispersed like smoke in the wind. Had it been real at all, or some projected illusion?
It didn't matter, she realized. Those cursed eyes were turning Kakashi-sensei's mind against him, because of her.
Guilt clawed at her as she broke the connection, the forest returning to normal hues. Her subsequent actions went against all logic, against her training. But seeing a path that could draw that smoldering Sharingan gaze away from her broken mentor galvanized her desperate resolve.
Pulse drumming a battle hymn in her ears, she took off alone into the woods grasping shadows, hoping against hope she could redirect any lingering threat onto herself instead. It was reckless, but no risk seemed too great to save her mentor, the closest thing she had to family.
She ran full tilt into her fear.
Kakashi choked in a phantom haze, thick with the stench of copper and burning pine needles. Moments ago, the scent of damp earth clung to Hinata—evident in his mind even as he thrashed mindlessly.
Now, warped screams replaced her voice, and shadows dripped inky stains—not mere trees, but Obito's mangled form pinned beneath a boulder. Kakashi clawed at his own face, desperate to rip away the vision of Rin's hand—frozen in the lightning crackling through his chest. It felt cruel; his lungs fought for natural air, proof that his oath to protect remained hollow.
Time splintered. Was Hinata safe? A flash of her Byakugan—wide with horror as she faced an enemy he couldn't see—twisted his insides. Had he led her into his own personal battlefield? His muscles pulsed with remembered strength, useless now. Kakashi wanted to strategize, to leap… instead, he could only sob, echoing the wails in his memories.
Hinata was too kind; she'd die trying to shield him. That failure branded him more than any scar.
The darkness pulsed in his ears, his world blurring into one ceaseless nightmare: alone, left behind, the ghosts of those he failed his ever-present torment. He retreated inwards, back to a blood-soaked past he understood with terrible clarity.
At least there, he was the only one left to suffer.
Hinata's heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribs. Each footfall on the soft forest floor pounded through her as if it might burst her veins. Sunlight sliced through the dense foliage, painting light stripes across her vision. Behind her, the rustle of leaves and Itachi's near-silent movement whispered a chilling reminder—there was no escape.
Itachi glided through the trees, a shadow among shadows. Each step was measured, devoid of the panic that fueled Hinata's desperate flight. Above, the cawing of crows pierced the tense silence.
"Why hesitate, Itachi?" A harsh voice cracked from the branches above. "Finish her with Amaterasu."
Another crow joined in, its voice a grating echo. "Consequences be damned. This is the mission."
Itachi's jaw tightened, but he did not look up. The black flames of Amaterasu were his ultimate weapon, a scorching judgement reserved for the most twisted of foes. But this girl…even though he needed her dead, she did not deserve such a brutal end.
"Amaterasu is for villains," he said quietly, his voice barely above the rustle of leaves. "She is just...a girl."
"Who poses a threat to your end goal!" The crows shrieked, their voices ringing with malice. "The Uchiha name demands ruthlessness. Your weakness will—"
Itachi silenced them with a single, cutting glare. His eyes, burning with the crimson of the Sharingan, promised violence the crows understood. Even as they perched on their branches, they retreated, a sliver of fear replacing their arrogance.
He was faster than her. A few shunshin, and he would be ahead of her, waiting. It should have been simple. It had been, countless times before.
Then again, none of his other targets had seen him in the state he was most vulnerable.
Itachi closed his eyes against the warring impulses inside him, then forced his hand to perform the shunshin seals.
Somewhere ahead, the rogue Uchiha Itachi lay in wait.
Hinata scanned the forest, alert to the subtlest fluctuation of chakra. A shiver ran down her spine as a murder of crows erupted from the trees, their harsh cries tearing through the stillness. One bird swooped low, a black streak against the fading sunlight. Hinata flinched, arms shooting up—then the crow passed through her, dissolving into sooty mist.
The forest warped and melted, Hinata's breath catching in her throat. Itachi materialized behind her, blade flashing with seeming carelessness. She whirled; her palm strike barely deflected by his sudden block. But Itachi vanished in a plume of smoke—a clone.
Suddenly, he dropped from above.
Hinata recognized the threat within seconds—she remembered her rare elemental Fuinjutsu. Desperate, she wove through hand seal—rabbit—and exhaled, 'Katon: Gokakyou no Jutsu!' A fireball roared towards Itachi's descent.
His descent was suddenly masked by the skeletal manifestation of his crimson Susanoo. Its hollow eyes flared as it shielded him, and he struck—but there was a fraction of unnecessary force in the movement. She fell; he was simply too fast. The sharp edge of his blade grazed her neck.
"Resourceful...for a child," Itachi murmured, a hint of grudging respect mingled with condescension seeping into his usually impassive voice. She shifted under his weight, only to feel the blade graze her neck further.
"Such interesting eyes… a pity."
Her mind spun, searching for a miracle, a way out. Itachi tightened his grip on his blade, another hand pressed her shoulder. The cold steel making her flinch. "You forced me to waste chakra…" There was a barely detectable catch in his voice.
A tremor ran through his arm, an involuntary flinch against his flawless composure. "Intriguing eyes... they see too much." His Sharingan blazed. "Such potential... must be snuffed out."
Hinata's breath hitched in her throat. This was it—the end. Yet, a sudden wave of anger washed over her fear. To give up... that was not the Hyuga way.
Then, as quickly as he had seized her, Itachi stumbled. His grip slackened, and the blade dropped from her skin. His face paled, the hand at her throat trembling. He gasped for breath as if a weight too heavy to bear had suddenly collapsed upon him. His head dropped; face buried on her shoulder.
Hinata tilted her head, eyes piercing through the dimming sunlight. She gasped. Had she seen him stumble slightly as they fought earlier? Had the great Uchiha Itachi—the man who slaughtered his entire clan—just been felled by something unseen?
The crows above cawed their mournful dirge.
The mist clung to the ancient trees, spectral fingers curling. Each strangled sob could be a nightbird's cry.
Obito stalked like a predator, his Sharingan blazing a crimson trail through the gloom. An unnatural satisfaction filled within him to find his quarry like this. Each ragged breath Kakashi drew fueled Obito's dark delight. He wanted to watch, to witness the unraveling of the man who'd once dared call him 'friend'. He knelt beside Kakashi's still form.
"Why hold onto that broken boy, Kakashi?" he whispered, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Even I have abandoned him."
Something crumpled within Kakashi. His shoulders twitched, the only betrayal of movement in his otherwise petrified form. Each moment swelled with the promise of shattering, but instead, his name rasped from Kakashi's concealed lips.
"…Obito?"
The fragile recognition pierced Obito as sharply as any kunai. His victory soured as a shard of unwanted remorse chipped at his resolve.
This vulnerable wreck wasn't a rival, merely the corpse of a friendship he'd personally interred.
He rose and vanished with a swirl of his Kamui, a ghost retreating from the painful echoes of what they had been.
Now, it was Hinata who was on top of Itachi's body. She stared at his fallen form—the kunai in her hand trembling. She barely registered the raucous cawing of the crows; her world had narrowed to the unconscious assassin and the deadly weapon hovering millimeters from his exposed throat.
All it would take was one swift strike, and her nightmare would be over. She imagined the relief of never again feeling the searing fear his blood-red eyes could inflict. A future where she wasn't hunted, where a shadow didn't lurk at the edge of her vision.
But the image shifted in her mind's eye. She saw his pale, sweat-slicked face contorted not in malice but in pain. She heard again the barely perceptible hitch in his breath—the telltale sign of weakness far removed from his legendary might. He'd used the last of his dwindling strength to try and eliminate what he perceived as a threat. That same strength had driven him to unimaginable self-sacrifice to protect his village.
Hinata knelt, the kunai trembling in her grasp. His chest rose and fell with shallow, rattling breaths. This was the monster…the destroyer. Yet, beneath her loathing pulsed a disorienting sense of pity. Was there ever any joy in him before this bloodstained path?
An unseen glimmer in his blood-red eyes flashed through her mind: tears after seeing his brother sleeping. That wasn't some monstrous façade. And Shisui… had his friend seen beyond the mask, too?
There was an honor in letting him choose his fate, in not denying him the warrior's death he might have yearned for. Still…
With a ragged exhale, she let the kunai drop. This wasn't a simple matter of right or wrong. It was an acknowledgement of shared tragedy, an act of defiant grace amidst a twisted reality she was only beginning to comprehend.
Hinata squeezed her eyes shut. Veins bulged, his chakra network visible in her Byakugan vision. The slow and steady but weak beating of his heart. She looked at how his chakra moved, his Tenketsu points.
'He's dying…' the thought ambled in her head.
This man before her…killer, savior—she might never fully understand him. But right now, duty was tangled with an instinct older than the Hyuga name. Could a healer indeed turn her hand away from suffering?
With trembling fingers, she reached for him. Even with his eyes closed, his face creased in relentless pain. Yet, under her searching gaze, the Byakugan revealed more than his fading life force. Here, too, was a battleground. His illness was a relentless assailant, his weakened chakra barely holding it back.
Her fingers tightened on her knees, nails cutting into her palms. Help this monster, and he could yet leave destruction in his wake. Yet… each rasping breath seemed to drag him closer to a fate darker than she could ever inflict. This act of mercy was also defiance—against his fate, his path, and perhaps even against her own role in this tale.
. . . . .
Cold. A shiver rattled through Itachi's body, sharp as the dagger beneath his neck. Eyes snapping open, his world flooded not with the familiar tangled maze of vibrant greens, earthy browns, and the sweet smell of damp soil but the gentle splash of the Kohona River on his skin. Each pebble dug into his back—a rude welcome to consciousness.
Sunlight pierced the water, refracting like shattered diamonds. Yet, the gentle scent of rain-soaked earth and blossoming wisteria couldn't mask it—the sharp, metallic tang of blood. Fear constricted his throat as he sat up, a tremor now racing through his hands.
The blood painted a chilling path along the stones. At its end, she stood beneath a cherry tree, blossoms raining gently onto her black hair. It tangled like strands of spilt ink down her back as she stared unmoving into the water.
This was the tree where he first saw the white-eyed girl. Also, the same tree, towering above the current black-eyed girl in this…realm, when he took her life with his blade years before.
Itachi could barely breathe. He knew those shoulders, that graceful slope of her neck. No other silhouette mirrored hers.
. . . . .
Hinata's fingers traced the faint outline of his chakra pathways, hovering inches above him. His skin stretched tight and pale against the damp earth in the dimming light. Each raspy breath painted tremors across his hollowed cheeks.
It shouldn't have been possible—those slender fingers, the chipped onyx shimmering on perfect nails belonged to a courtier, not a killer. His hand lay relaxed, almost dainty, yet a trace of tension lingered like a dormant claw. With Byakugan eyes, she could see the dark pulse of chakra thrumming beneath that unmarred skin, a network primed for destruction.
One last look at his face, marred by a crease of suffering his stoicism could no longer disguise. Guided by instinct more than reason, she gently pressed her fingertips against a tenketsu point just below his collarbone. It pulsed feebly beneath her touch. His chakra barely held against the ceaseless encroachment of disease. Yet, the moment her energy entered, relief seemed to pulse through his system. Not healing... merely the loosening of a suffocating restraint.
A gasp escaped him, weaker than it should have been. Each shallow breath drew into his lungs a little easier now, the frantic rattle in his chest replaced by something less strained. Hinata found herself mirroring his ragged rhythm, fear twisting as tightly as it loosened around her heart.
As she eased another knot of tension from his chakra flow, another piece of her fear faded. Not into peace, but understanding.
This act bound them through something stranger than jutsu or bloodshed. It was an unspoken covenant—to defy fate, even for a man steeped in it. Perhaps for all shinobi, it was all they ultimately possessed—these fleeting moments amidst the unforgiving wheel of the hidden world.
. . . . .
A gust of wind rustled the cherry blossoms, petals cascading around Itachi like soft snowfall. Each step towards her felt like walking against a gale, the memory of the past a suffocating weight. He stopped a few feet away, unable to bridge the remaining distance.
"I've been... I didn't expect to see you again..." He managed, the words rough in his throat.
Her voice wafted back, soft and strangely distant. "Me too."
Itachi glanced at the river. "It's strange... for you to be here...just as I was about to kill...that girl." He couldn't meet her spectral gaze, guilt roiling inside him.
"Maybe I took you here..." The suggestion, feather-light, made him look up in shock.
"Why?" The word was ragged. "Why would you bring me here?"
"Maybe you have taken too many lives. Maybe you should stop."
His defiance flared, then dwindled. "She is a threat! She'll unravel everything I sacrificed for—everything I..." He couldn't speak her name, its memory acrid in his mouth.
"The goal you killed me for?"
Itachi staggered, the world momentarily askew. A strangled sound escaped him, part sob, part protest. "I had to... there was no other..." Words failed, swallowed by sorrow that felt as fresh as the night he did the unthinkable.
"And yet..." Her voice held a note he couldn't decipher, "...here you stand. Because of her."
Silence stretched, leaves rustling. He pictured her facing away, strangely accusatory in her stillness.
"I don't understand," he whispered a barely audible surrender.
A petal landed on his cheek, and Itachi blinked. Its pink a vibrant mark against the encroaching dusk. Had there been time passing? He couldn't say.
"I know the white-eyed girl," the ghost voice drifted towards him. "Sits by the river, talks to herself... yes, a kind soul."
A bittersweet longing seized him. "I couldn't have known..." he rasped, unsure if she even heard. "There's...a likeness...in her."
"Perhaps." The barest sigh of a word. Yet, he dared to imagine her nodding ever so slightly.
His pulse quickened, a glint of absurd hope. "If you turned... just if I could see..."
"Your punishment... began long ago, Itachi. This is but its continuation." Her tone softened, the accusation fading. "There will be no more seeing."
Despair settled over him, cold and inevitable.
"...Forgive me," His voice trembled, little more than a murmur lost among rustling leaves.
. . . . .
The crows erupted into a deafening chorus, their harsh cries slicing through the forest like broken glass against her taut nerves. The forest spun around her, leaves and branches blurring into a nauseating whirl of green and brown.
His eyelids twitched, a minuscule movement sending a jolt of terror through her. Survival clawed at her, a primal scream trapped in her throat. With it came the question: fight or flight?
One flicker of his eye and she'd be dead.
Flight.
She whirled, her Byakugan fading, the world collapsing back into familiar shapes just as her legs propelled her blindly through the undergrowth.
. . . . .
For a heart-wrenching moment, silence was her only reply. Yet, when she spoke next, it was as gentle as a mother's touch.
"I always have, my love. But wounds... some never fully close." There was a pause, then the faintest rustle, as if she might be dissipating into the gathering twilight.
"It is time. Return."
. . . . .
Her soft command pulsed through Itachi's mind as his eyes fluttered open to see foliage above him. The forest felt unbearably empty; each whispered breath of wind a cruel parody of her gentle voice.
A stray cherry blossom, dislodged by his clumsy movement, drifted onto his cheek.
The humid air pressed down, heavy and clinging like a second skin. Kiba huffed a restless, twitchy motion, and swatted at a mosquito on his neck.
"It's worse than that damned forest," he complained, voice muffled through the thin cloth tied around his nose and mouth.
Beside him, Shino remained still as a statue. It was an unsettling stillness to Kiba. Shino never fidgeted; if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest, you'd think him made of stone.
"It's dry underground," Shino's voice rasped from beneath his own mask, "Not all my insects thrive in this environment."
"Figures," Kiba muttered. He kicked at a pebble. Akamaru whined, ears forward, eyes locked on a mound of dirt where he'd abandoned the pebble. "We're just fancy guard dogs if we can't pick up a trail."
Shino lowered himself to the ground with controlled fluidity. He knelt and pressed his palm against the baked earth, then cocked his head and moved his ear closer.
Frowning, he shifted, pressing his ear a hand's length away. Then again, and again, tracing a line with his attention.
Kiba crouched to watch, interest replacing boredom. "Got something?"
"Vibrations," Shino confirmed, not rising. "Rhythmic."
"Not natural?" Kiba's hand drifted to a kunai holster. Akamaru, sensing the tension, whined and pressed close to his human.
Shino shook his head. "Too consistent. The rhythm increases and decreases..." He traced his finger in the dirt. "The origin appears to be here. Splitting off this way and that way."
He stood, dusting his knees carefully. "It suggests deliberate work. Tunneling, likely."
"An attack?" Kiba straightened, hand instinctively hovering over his weapons. An underground assault made his instincts bristle. It was too hard to track and corner an enemy from below.
"Possibly. It could also be diversionary. The main force may intend to infiltrate the shrine and take advantage of our focus on the tunnels. I need more time to make sure."
A gust of wind, hot and empty, sent dust swirling around their boots. Kiba grimaced, then ground his teeth. "Fine. But tell your bugs to hurry up. Can't squat here all day," he muttered at Shino's unmoving back.
Underneath his mask, Shino frowned. The vibrations were shifting, but still too faint to be certain. To move now could be reckless...
Akamaru let out a sharp bark and lunged forward, pawing at a mound of dirt. "Hey!" Kiba hissed, scrambling toward the dog. "Akamaru, leave it!"
"The movements aren't solid enough to confirm it. I need..." Shino's words were cut short.
The world seemed to shudder. Dirt rained down on them as a crack snaked across the ground between his feet. Before either of them could react, the earth under Shino gave way, and a figure erupted from the hole in a cloud of dust.
Tall and lean, the ninja moved with a predator's grace, muscles rippling beneath his earth-toned clothing—a stark black leather vest over a red long-sleeved shirt. Brown hair tumbled around a handsome face, but it was the eyes, fierce and rimmed with red, that commanded attention.
"Bit of a bumpy ride," he quipped, cracking his neck, "But hey, I'm Yoshizaku—the janitor. Some entrances shouldn't be subtle."
TBC
Music: Jang Jae-in feat. NaShow - Auditory Hallucination (환청)| Graeme Revell – Rain Forever
I'm taking the opportunity to thank all the reviewers from 2010-2023. Thank you for believing in me, and a comeback.
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