This day was forever etched into Itachi's memory. The dense, cold rain, mixed with the blood of the fallen, turned the ground into a crimson mire, wrapping him and Fugaku in a shroud of death. Every step echoed with piercing waves of pain and despair. Instinctively, Itachi clenched his small fists, trying to suppress the fear clawing its way to the surface, while his lips trembled nervously. Yet he stubbornly kept his gaze forward—his father had taught him to be strong, and he tried to follow that lesson despite the terror inside, the silhouettes of the fallen filling the field, and the cries of the wounded reverberating in his soul.
Fugaku walked ahead, the embodiment of strength and composure, as if neither the rain nor the horrors of the battle could touch him. Only the sharp motion of his head hinted at his internal focus.
"Don't fall behind," Fugaku said without turning around, his voice firm and detached. "And remember, you are an Uchiha. Do not show fear."
Clenching his teeth, Itachi nodded, determinedly suppressing his weakness and fear. He continued to follow his father, feeling the rain stream down his face, masking his fears and bitterness. This day was meant to teach him courage and resilience, but instead, it brought a heavy realization of how terrifying a shinobi's reality could be. The scent of blood and wet earth filled his lungs, and Itachi barely managed to fight back waves of nausea, understanding that this was now a part of his world.
He had seen death. For the first time, so close. And he realized that the shinobi world was not only thrilling tales and heroic feats but also pain and suffering.
They walked forward in silence when Itachi noticed his father tense up. Fugaku stopped for a moment, then his hand suddenly gripped his son's shoulder, and they leapt aside. In the next instant, a wave of destructive energy tore through the path they had been walking, ripping apart the ground and the air.
The explosion deafened Itachi, the earth trembled beneath his feet, and the thick smell of smoke and charred debris hung in the air, stinging his eyes and throat. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shield himself from the unbearable chaos around him, but his father's firm hand held him steady, preventing him from falling.
"Stay close to me!" Fugaku shouted through the din, his steely voice pinning Itachi in place.
Fugaku drew his katana. The blade glinted in the dim light, reflecting the crimson glow of his Sharingan. His eyes, blazing like red fire, silently scanned the surrounding forest. Itachi, on the other hand, glanced aimlessly around, hoping to spot the enemy and somehow help his father. But all he could see were trees, their tops swallowed by the dense mist.
Itachi's heart pounded wildly in his chest, like a bird trapped in a cage. Fear, cold and sticky, paralyzed his movements, making it hard to breathe. He felt small and helpless in the face of an unknown threat.
"Two," Fugaku whispered without turning. "As soon as I give the signal, run as fast as you can toward the camp. Don't look back, and don't stop until you're with our people."
Itachi obediently nodded. He understood all too well that he couldn't help his father in this fight. He would only get in the way, distracting him and putting them both in greater danger. His small body was still unfamiliar with strength, and the hands clutching the kunai trembled with fear.
A moment passed, one that felt like an eternity to Itachi. Fugaku's broad back disappeared into the forest, as if swallowed by the darkness. The clash of metal rang out near his ear. Itachi instinctively jumped aside, narrowly avoiding a fatal strike. The world around him shrank to the singular gleaming blade of a katana, which relentlessly closed in on his throat.
Beside him, a kunai embedded itself in the ground, thrown with incredible force. Without hesitation, Itachi grabbed it with both hands, feeling the cold metal burn his palms.
Three blurred silhouettes clashed in battle, like shadows dancing in the twilight. In the gloom, only two crimson lights — Sharingan — stood out clearly. Itachi watched the fight in awe, unable to tear his gaze away. He saw how his father deftly dodged the enemies' attacks, how his katana flared in the air, reflecting the rare beams of moonlight.
"Go!" Fugaku barked, sending one of the enemies flying with a powerful strike of his katana.
Wasting no time, Itachi bolted. He pushed himself to run as fast as he could, channeling chakra into his legs, but fear and adrenaline made it hard to breathe. The forest seemed menacing, the trees loomed over him like shadows, eager to stop his escape. Branches lashed at his face, and bushes clawed at his clothes, but Itachi was ready to overcome any obstacle. He didn't want to die here, not now. The forest blurred into a dark haze as he leapt from branch to branch, like a small animal fleeing a predator.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his back. Instinctively, he ducked, and in the same instant, a kunai whistled past his head — it would have slashed his throat had he hesitated for even a moment. His arms reflexively came up to block as a kick struck him, sending him plummeting down, branches snapping around him.
As he fell, Itachi hit a thick branch and landed on the ground with a crunch. Pain pierced through his body like a red-hot blade, but he immediately forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth. He couldn't afford to relax; danger was still close. His ears rang, and dark spots danced before his eyes. It took all his strength to focus, glancing around in search of threats. The forest around him felt hostile and foreboding. The shadows of the trees swayed in the twilight, as if mocking his helplessness.
A sudden blow to his side knocked Itachi off his feet. He flew to the side and crashed hard against the trunk of a tree. A groan of pain escaped his throat. The kunai slipped from his weakened fingers, and he slumped to the ground, leaning his back against the rough bark. He tried to stand, but his body refused to obey.
"Well, aren't you a scrappy little one," came a mocking voice above him.
With great effort, Itachi lifted his blurred gaze. In front of him stood a young shinobi wearing the forehead protector of the Hidden Stone. His eyes gleamed with contempt and the cruelty of a predator cornering its prey. In his hands, the shinobi held a kunai — the very same one that had fallen from Itachi's grasp. He smirked, tossing the weapon in his hand, as if savoring the moment.
"We were only ordered to scout," the shinobi continued, casually flipping the kunai in his palm. "But when I saw you, little Uchiha Itachi, I couldn't resist. You know, in my..."
The shinobi suddenly froze, as if catching himself. He frowned and tightened his grip on the kunai.
"Doesn't matter," he continued after a brief pause. "Consider this personal."
Itachi's consciousness was consumed by the mocking face of the shinobi. A sense of helplessness and complete confusion pressed down on him from all sides. It was as if someone had discovered his desire to change everything and decided to punish him for it. And this shinobi… where had he come from? Why was he attacking him? How did he know his name? And why did he hate him?
For a four-year-old, it was beyond comprehension. He desperately tried to figure out what connection there could be between them. When had it ever formed?
Or… was it something that would form in the future?
Itachi had barely begun to grasp the severity of the threat when a piercing cry shattered the silence of the forest, making him flinch. His eyes flew open, and he saw the enemy in front of him lower his gaze to his chest, where a bloodied katana blade protruded from the darkness between his ribs. Crimson droplets trickled down the blade, mingling with the rain.
The kunai fell from the shinobi's hand with a dull thud, sinking into the soft, wet earth.
Fugaku stood behind the fallen enemy, the embodiment of retribution. His Sharingan eyes burned with a harsh, merciless glare. He released the lifeless body, letting it collapse heavily to the ground, and in one fluid motion, he leapt to Itachi's side, pulling him tightly into his arms. A barely perceptible but resolute fear flickered across Fugaku's face as he held his son close to his chest.
Itachi, however, suddenly understood that he was destined to live in hell — but he wasn't going to give up.