Hinata of the White Lotus
The Realm of Tsukuyomi
Byakugan met Sharingan.
In that instant, Hinata's stomach dropped. The blood in her veins felt cold, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She should have looked away, averted her gaze the moment the door swung open. No—she should have never opened the door at all. But it was too late now. Far too late.
The crimson glow of the Sharingan swirled, its tomoe spinning hypnotically. She knew the danger, understood what it meant to face those eyes. The Byakugan gave her a natural resistance to Genjutsu, yes, but resistance wasn't immunity. Against someone like him, even her bloodline's advantage might not save her. She had no way of knowing if she was already trapped in an illusion, her senses quietly betraying her as reality unraveled around her.
The Sharingan's owner stepped forward, his presence suffocating, though he made no move to attack. His expression was as calm and cold as ice, and his voice, when he spoke, was quiet but filled with unnerving authority.
"You again," he said, his tone laced with faint surprise, as though he had stumbled upon an old acquaintance. It wasn't her he was looking for—of that, she was certain. This meeting was a coincidence, nothing more. Yet even in his indifference, Hinata felt like a mouse standing before a coiled viper.
She knew who he was. How could she not? There were so few Sharingan users left in the world, and his name alone sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened Shinobi. The only others were Sasuke, her classmate. Kakashi-sensei, the famed Copy Ninja. And then there was the man who stood before her now.
Uchiha Itachi. The butcher of the Uchiha clan.
The question she couldn't answer was why he was here. What would one of the most infamous criminals in Konoha's history want in a place like this? Why had he come to her door?
"You shouldn't be here," came another voice, deep and gravelly, yet somehow casual in its menace. A tall figure stepped forward from behind Itachi, his broad shoulders and hulking frame taking up the entire doorway. His face was as alien as it was grotesque—blue skin, gill-like slashes on his cheeks, and sharp, shark-like teeth. He pulled back the brim of his hat, revealing the slashed headband of the Hidden Mist village.
"Should we take care of her?" the shark-man asked, his hand resting on the massive, bandaged weapon strapped to his back. The sword radiated an ominous presence, as though it were alive and hungry for blood.
"Leave her to me," Itachi replied calmly, his Sharingan locking fully onto hers. The room seemed to tilt, the weight of his gaze holding her in place. Her body refused to move, her muscles frozen. Was this fear? Or was it some subtle Genjutsu already weaving its way through her mind? The fact that she couldn't tell was the most terrifying thing of all.
"Kisame," Itachi continued, his tone unwavering, "confirm the Kyūbi Jinchūriki is here."
Kyūbi? The word struck her like a physical blow, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind raced, scrambling to piece together what was happening. The Kyūbi no Yōko—the Nine-Tailed Fox. Everyone in the Land of Fire knew the legends, the devastation it had wrought. But what was a Jinchūriki? And what did this have to do with her team?
She barely noticed Kisame peeking into the room, his sharp-toothed grin widening as his gaze swept over its occupants. "Yeah, I think I see him," he said with an unsettling chuckle. "Blond hair, whiskers… dressed like a fire hazard? That him?"
Her heart sank. Naruto.
"That's him," Itachi confirmed without hesitation. The tomoe in his Sharingan began to shift, merging together, their motion slow and deliberate. They formed a new shape, a three-bladed shuriken spinning lazily in his iris—the Mangekyō Sharingan. Its presence was suffocating, a tangible force that seemed to press down on her very soul.
Kisame took a step forward, the weight of his massive weapon echoing in the floorboards as he moved past her. Hinata's breath hitched. She wanted to scream, to warn her team, but her throat felt constricted, her voice caught in the grip of paralyzing terror.
"No complaints if I shave a leg or two off, right?" Kisame grinned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, his intent clear. He wasn't here for diplomacy.
Itachi didn't respond, his gaze still locked on Hinata. His Sharingan spun ever so slightly, and she felt it—a pull, an irresistible tide dragging her under. Her legs refused to move, her fingers trembled at her sides. Do something! her mind screamed, but her body refused to obey. She was drowning in his presence, her mind a whirlwind of fear and helplessness.
And then, silence. A terrible, suffocating silence.
The sensation of unreality tightened around Hinata like a noose as she opened her eyes again—or had they ever been closed? She couldn't tell. The world before her was both dreamlike and nightmarish, an endless sea of crimson stretching into the horizon. Its surface rippled softly against her ankles, though there was no wind, no motion to stir it. The air hung thick and heavy, clinging to her skin like the suffocating weight of unseen hands. Above, the oppressive sky was painted the same blood-red hue, broken only by the black void of the moon. It loomed unnaturally large, a gaping maw devouring what little light dared touch this world.
This place wasn't real—it couldn't be real—but it felt real.
Hinata's breaths came shallow and panicked, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. She looked down, her heart lurching at the sight of the chains binding her wrists. They were thick, dark metal, coiling out from her arms like the tendrils of a living thing. They plunged into the depths below, disappearing into the blood-colored water, which seemed to ripple around them as though alive. The chains were warm to the touch—too warm—and the sensation sent a shiver of revulsion through her.
She tugged instinctively, her wrists jerking against the restraints, but the chains didn't budge. Instead, the effort seemed to make the surface of the water shudder unnaturally, as if it were responding to her struggle. The warmth of the chains spread further, sinking into her skin, and for a horrifying moment, she felt as though they were breathing—alive, pulsating with a rhythm that matched her own rapid heartbeat.
A faint sound—soft, deliberate—broke the oppressive silence. It was the ripple of water, impossibly close. Her head snapped up, and her breath caught in her throat.
He was there.
Itachi stood before her, no more than a few feet away. She hadn't seen him arrive; one moment, the space had been empty, and the next, he was there, as though the world itself had conjured him. His presence was as oppressive as the void-like moon above, his dark silhouette casting no shadow, yet consuming all light around him.
The katana in his hand gleamed unnaturally, the blade reflecting the blood-red sky like a liquid mirror. It radiated an air of inevitability, a weapon forged not to harm but to sever—to end. He held it with a calm, unyielding grace, his dark eyes boring into hers with the weight of a predator closing in on its prey.
Hinata's knees buckled, her chains rattling faintly as she tried to move, to pull away, to do anything. Her legs refused to obey, her strength drained as though the water itself was dragging her downward. The surface seemed to ripple more violently now, the waves creeping higher up her ankles with every passing second, threatening to consume her entirely.
Her wrists burned against the restraints as she struggled again, desperate and terrified. The chains groaned in response, the sound reverberating through the suffocating air like a mocking laugh. Her movements grew more frantic, her breathing erratic, but no matter how hard she fought, she remained tethered to the suffocating abyss below her.
"Let me go!" she cried out, her voice cracking with panic. Her words seemed to echo in the endless expanse, swallowed by the oppressive silence.
The katana gleamed again as he took a step closer, the sound of his foot breaking the water's surface echoing like a thunderclap in the stillness. Hinata froze, her struggles faltering as terror coursed through her veins. The water climbed higher, lapping at her knees now, its warmth suffocating, pulling her closer to its depths.
This wasn't just a prison. It was a sentence. And Itachi stood at the center of it all, the arbiter of her fate.
"Why do you struggle?" Itachi asked, his voice calm, almost disinterested. His tone carried no malice, no pleasure—just an eerie indifference, as though her suffering was nothing more than a natural consequence of existing in his realm. "In this realm, I control everything: time, space, even life and death."
Hinata's lips parted to respond, but no words came. The weight of his presence, the suffocating grip of the crimson sea, rendered her silent. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat a desperate plea to wake from this nightmare.
Itachi didn't wait. He swung his blade in a single, graceful arc, the motion almost too quick to perceive.
Pain bloomed in her neck, sharp and absolute, cutting through her thoughts like a lightning strike. Her vision spun violently as her body jerked forward, and with a sickening splash, she found herself submerged in the crimson water. She gasped, her lungs filling with liquid, her vision twisting—and then she saw it.
Her own headless body stood above her, blood spraying upward in a grotesque fountain from her severed neck. The crimson sea around her grew darker, swirling violently as her lifeblood joined its depths. She tried to scream, but no sound came. She tried to breathe, but her lungs refused to obey. Darkness closed in on all sides, suffocating, endless—
And then she was back.
Hinata gasped, her eyes snapping open. She was standing again, the chains biting into her wrists as though they had never been removed. Her body was whole, unscathed, yet the memory of the pain still burned as if it had been seared into her soul. Her knees buckled, her legs trembling beneath her, but the chains refused to let her collapse, holding her upright like a puppet on strings.
"W-What…?" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of her terror.
"You're not dead," Itachi said matter-of-factly, his tone as detached as ever. "Not yet."
He tilted his head slightly, as if studying her, his dark eyes unblinking. "You're afraid. Good. Fear sharpens the senses. It makes you receptive to the truth."
Before Hinata could process his words, he moved again. The katana pierced her chest with an unnatural precision, driving through her heart. The pain was immediate and consuming, radiating outward from the blade like fire as her lungs filled with blood. Her breath became a wet, choking gasp, her vision blurring as the world twisted around her. The crimson water rose to meet her once more, swallowing her whole.
And then, she was back.
This time, the chains jerked violently, dragging her into the sea. The water surged upward like a living thing, pulling her down, down into the suffocating depths. She clawed desperately at the surface, her nails scraping against nothing, but the liquid burned her skin like acid. Each droplet ate away at her flesh, dissolving her entirely until there was nothing left but bone.
And then, she was back.
It was relentless. She was burned alive, crushed under unimaginable weight, drowned, torn limb from limb, stabbed, frozen, and shattered. Each death was as vivid, as excruciating, as the last. Each time she returned, whole but shaking, her mind fracturing further under the weight of it all. She lost count of how many times she died. Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Time had no meaning here, and every moment stretched into eternity.
Her voice was hoarse by the time she finally managed to scream. "Stop! Please!"
Itachi stopped mid-swing, the katana inches from her throat. His expression didn't change, his gaze as implacable as ever, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or calculation.
Hinata's breath came in ragged gasps, the sound harsh in the oppressive silence. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her wrists raw from the constant strain against the chains. The blood-red water at her feet rippled faintly, its motion in sync with her unsteady breaths.
Itachi lowered the katana slightly, though his grip on it remained firm, his presence no less overwhelming. "You have questions," he said, his voice measured and distant, as though speaking to someone far beneath him. "I will answer them. But you will answer mine."
Hinata's knees buckled again, the crushing weight of dread bearing down on her as his words settled over her like a death sentence. She realized then that her suffering had not been punishment—it had been a method. Itachi's intent was not to kill her, but to break her.
Hinata's throat tightened, fear rendering her unable to speak. Her mind reeled, desperate to understand the situation. She could hardly fathom the idea of speaking to this man, this legend of terror, but what choice did she have? Maybe… if she stalled, someone—Naruto, Shino, Kiba—might be able to save her.
She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she forced the words out. "W-Why are you… after Naruto-kun?"
Itachi's eyes flickered, the crimson of the Sharingan spinning hypnotically, their endless whirl drawing her deeper into his oppressive presence. "The Kyūbi," he said simply, his tone calm, as though the answer were self-evident. "Its power is… necessary."
"Necessary for what?" Hinata pressed, though her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. Fear rooted her body in place, but something deeper—a desperate need to protect Naruto—pushed her words forward despite the growing weight of dread.
Itachi tilted his head slightly, studying her with a gaze so piercing it felt as though he was peeling back the layers of her thoughts. "The next question is mine to ask," he said, his voice devoid of harshness yet heavy with finality. "What kind of Byakugan was that?"
Hinata's breath caught in her throat, the question striking with the precision of a blade. Of course, he had noticed. When they had crossed paths before, he had seen it—felt it. And now, he wanted to know. Her mind raced, scrambling for an answer that wouldn't betray her.
"It's… just a variation," she whispered shakily, the words tumbling from her lips. "A mutation. Nothing special."
It was a lie—one she was certain he would see through. Hinata had never been good at lying, and now, under the weight of his gaze, it felt as though every word unraveled before it left her lips.
Itachi's gaze lingered, as though measuring the truth in her voice. The silence stretched, each second a suffocating eternity. Finally, his lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile, though it carried no warmth. "I see," he murmured, his tone unreadable.
The lack of reaction only unsettled her more. She wanted to ask what he meant, to press him for his thoughts, but instead, she forced herself to focus. "What… what is a Jinchūriki?" she managed, her voice shaking as her curiosity fought against her terror. "What does that mean?"
"The vessel of a tailed beast," Itachi answered with ease, his words as sharp and precise as a blade. "A human container for immense power. Uzumaki Naruto is such a vessel."
Hinata's eyes widened, her heart pounding so violently it felt as though it might burst. The Kyūbi… the creature that had attacked Konoha all those years ago… was inside Naruto? The whispers, the disdain from the adults, the loneliness that had always surrounded him—it all clicked into place with horrifying clarity.
A wave of anguish crashed over her, threatening to drown her thoughts. But she couldn't dwell on it. Not now. Not here.
Itachi's expression didn't change. He neither confirmed nor denied her response, his unreadable calm only amplifying her unease. He took a step forward, the chains rattling faintly in response to the movement.
"Why Uzumaki Naruto?" Itachi asked suddenly, his voice cutting through her spiraling thoughts like a cold wind.
Hinata blinked, startled by the question. "W-What?"
"You're devoted to him," Itachi said, his voice steady and clinical, as though he were merely stating an observation. "It's clear in the way you speak, the way you act. You're in this situation, but you don't ask about yourself. You ask about him. Why?"
Her cheeks burned, the fear that consumed her mingling with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. She wanted to retreat, to curl into herself, but there was nowhere to go. The chains held her in place, exposed and defenseless.
"I…" she hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. The truth lodged in her throat, too heavy to release. But there was no escape. She swallowed hard, her words trembling. "He… he inspires me."
Itachi remained silent for a moment, his gaze unblinking, as though dissecting her response. Then, almost imperceptibly, he stepped closer, the ripples of the crimson water lapping at her knees. The katana in his hand gleamed faintly, though he made no move to strike.
"Inspiration," he murmured, testing the word as though tasting it for the first time. "A fragile thing."
The response sent a chill down her spine, silencing her before she could press further. Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to ask the only other question she could. "What… will you do to Naruto-kun?"
Itachi tilted his head slightly, his calm demeanor returning as he regarded her. "That depends," he said, his tone as even as ever. "If he comes quietly, nothing. If he resists…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the air, suffocating in its finality.
Hinata's stomach twisted violently, the chains rattling softly as her trembling arms tightened against them. The thought of Naruto in Itachi's grasp, subjected to the same torment she endured now, was unbearable. She clenched her fists tighter, her fear blending with a growing spark of anger. But for now, she could only endure.
"What is the true purpose of your eyes?" Itachi asked again, his voice softer this time, almost gentle, yet carrying the same unrelenting weight as before.
Hinata's breathing hitched, her chest tightening as his question lingered in the suffocating air. "I-I told you," she stammered, her voice cracking as she struggled to form words. "I don't know. They're just… different." Her throat burned with the effort of speaking, and her body trembled against the oppressive atmosphere, the chains biting into her wrists.
Itachi stepped back slightly, his dark gaze piercing through her as though dissecting her very soul. His expression was unreadable, his silence more chilling than his words. "Perhaps," he murmured at last, his tone more to himself than to her.
Before she could muster a response, the chains binding her wrists tightened without warning, the metal groaning as it bit into her skin. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as the sudden force dragged her down, her knees slamming into the surface of the crimson water. The liquid rippled violently, clinging to her skin like tar as though eager to consume her entirely.
Itachi's voice echoed around her, distant yet inescapable, cold and detached. "You're more resilient than I expected," he said, his tone carrying an almost clinical detachment, as though he were observing a particularly interesting experiment. "But time, as you'll soon learn, is not on your side."
The katana rose once more, its blade catching the eerie, blood-red light of the void. The gleaming metal seemed alive, pulsating with an unnatural energy, a harbinger of the torment about to resume.
Hinata's sobs hitched, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her eyes widened in terror, every nerve in her body alight with the unbearable weight of anticipation. The crimson sea seemed to tremble beneath her, its dark surface shifting and swirling as though preparing to drag her down again. She clenched her fists, her trembling hands pulling against the chains in a futile attempt to brace herself for the inevitable blow.
The katana arced downward, cutting through the air with a deafening silence.
But then, something changed.
The blood-red sky flickered, the oppressive light dimming for the briefest of moments. A ripple passed through the sea, its surface quaking with an energy that didn't belong to Itachi's domain. The chains binding her wrists loosened, just enough for her to feel the faintest shift in their grip. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
Itachi paused mid-swing, his Sharingan eyes narrowing as he tilted his head slightly, sensing the disruption. The katana remained frozen in his grasp, its blade hovering inches from her throat. The stillness that followed was suffocating, a moment suspended in time as the fabric of the Tsukuyomi realm itself seemed to waver.
Hinata's ragged breaths filled the silence, her mind reeling from the sudden shift. She didn't understand what was happening, but for the first time since she had been dragged into this nightmare, the chains that had bound her so completely felt… vulnerable.
Itachi's gaze turned sharp, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of curiosity—and something darker. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice low and calculating.
The crimson sea rippled again, the disturbance spreading outward like a stone cast into still water. Whatever was happening, it wasn't part of his design. And Hinata, trembling and broken but still standing, could feel it too. Something was shifting. Something beyond his control.
A faint vibration hummed beneath her, almost imperceptible at first, but it quickly grew in intensity. The blood-red water around her began to ripple unnaturally, the surface shifting as if responding to an unseen force. A soft, steady glow appeared beneath her feet, faint yet resolute.
Itachi's Sharingan narrowed. His movements stilled, the blade pausing mid-air. His gaze shifted downward as a green light began to spread, cutting through the oppressive crimson hue of the water. The intricate pattern of an eight trigrams diagram flickered to life beneath them, glowing with an emerald brilliance that seemed to challenge the very fabric of Tsukuyomi.
"What is this?" Itachi murmured, his voice losing its usual calm for the barest moment, replaced by genuine curiosity.
The light pulsed, and the chains binding Hinata shattered, dissolving into faint wisps of energy. She fell to her knees, her breath ragged as she clutched her chest. The pain was still there, but it was no longer debilitating. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she could move.
The crimson sky above flickered like a dying flame, and the water around them began to change. A ripple of cerulean purity spread outward from the glowing diagram, cleansing the blood-like hue as it expanded. The oppressive aura of Tsukuyomi faltered.
Hinata turned her head slowly, her tear-streaked face lighting up with a flicker of recognition as she saw a figure stepping into view. Each step was deliberate, the water beneath them turning crystalline blue wherever they tread.
"Kali…" Hinata's voice trembled with relief, tears spilling anew—not from pain, but from hope.
Kali emerged from the eight trigrams diagram, her shrine maiden attire flowing as if carried by an unseen breeze. Her expression, usually calm and kind, burned with a wrath so fierce it seemed to sear through the red void of Tsukuyomi. Her Nichiren Byakugan glowed with ethereal light, her gaze locked onto Itachi with an intensity that made even the Uchiha hesitate.
"Sorry I'm late, Hinata," she said, her voice soft yet resolute. She knelt beside Hinata, her hand resting gently on the girl's shoulder, her touch soothing like a balm on a raw wound. "You've endured enough. Rest now."
Itachi's composure cracked further as his gaze darted between the glowing eight trigrams and the mysterious figure who had intruded upon his absolute domain. "This is impossible," he said, his tone low and sharp. "No one can enter Tsukuyomi without my permission."
Kali tilted her head, her lips twisting into a biting smirk. "Oh, is that how this works? Then I guess you messed up, fledgling." She gestured between herself and Hinata without breaking eye contact. "Her eyes are mine, and mine are hers. You pulled her in, so you pulled me in too. Surprise."
Itachi's gaze sharpened, but his tone didn't falter. "If that's true, you've made a grave error. You should have stayed hidden. By revealing yourself, you've surrendered any chance of escape."
"Escape?" Kali scoffed, standing and stepping closer, her feet purifying the water with each step. "Oh no, sweetheart, you've got this backward. I'm not here to escape. I'm here to clean up your mess." She waved a hand dismissively. "Now, let's save us both the headache. Drop this Genjutsu and crawl back to whatever hole you came from."
Itachi's brow furrowed slightly, the faintest crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. "You're stalling. Bravado, is it? A futile show of defiance."
Kali threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing across the twisted void. It wasn't just mocking; it was the kind of laugh that carried the weight of unshakable confidence, a sound that carved through the oppressive air like a blade.
"Oh, that's rich," Kali said, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. "You think I'm bluffing? Go on, Uchiha prodigy. Do something. Anything. I'm waiting."
Itachi didn't hesitate. Without a word, he raised two fingers and pointed them at her. His Sharingan flared, its ominous spinning slowing as he issued his command to the world around him.
And then… nothing.
The silence hung heavy as the moment stretched. Seconds passed like hours. Itachi glanced down at his fingers, his expression betraying no confusion, but the faint shift in his posture spoke volumes. Calmly, he turned and pointed his fingers to the side. A flicker of black flames burst to life on the blood-red water nearby, their ethereal crackle confirming that his control of Tsukuyomi was still intact.
Itachi's gaze snapped back to Kali, his fingers moving in a deliberate gesture toward her once more. But again, nothing happened.
Kali smirked, folding her arms across her chest. She tapped her foot on the purified water, the rhythmic sound carrying an almost taunting beat. "What's the matter, Uchiha prodigy? Losing your touch?"
Itachi's crimson eyes flicked downward, the Sharingan analyzing the strange ripples of blue water spreading outward from her steps. The blood-red sea was steadily losing its color, each step she took leaving behind a trail of crystalline clarity. His voice, normally unshakable, now carried the faintest edge of surprise. "What are you doing to my world?"
"Your world?" Kali sneered, her Nichiren Byakugan glowing brighter with each word. Her tone sharpened, dripping with disdain. "Don't flatter yourself. This place is the domain of a god—you're just borrowing it. And dealing with those who think they're gods? That's my specialty."
Itachi's stance shifted, the tension in his shoulders betraying the unease he usually concealed so well. "The Mangekyō Sharingan has no equal. Tsukuyomi cannot be overpowered except by another Mangekyō Sharingan," he stated, his voice colder now, as if reaffirming an unassailable truth.
Kali tilted her head, her smirk widening into something almost predatory. "Is that what you think?" she asked, mockery lacing her words. "Kid, you've been playing with matches and calling it fire. But do you know what happens when you light a match in a storm?"
Itachi didn't answer, his gaze fixed on her with the intensity of a predator studying its prey. The crimson Sharingan spun deliberately, searching for any flaw, any explanation. But Kali wasn't giving him the time to figure it out.
"This world bends to your will," Kali continued, her voice hardening as the glow of her Byakugan pulsed in tandem with her chakra. "But you don't own the forces that make it. Time, space, energy—you manipulate them, sure. But there's a difference between owning a tool and understanding it."
She stepped forward, her movements fluid and deliberate, each step sending ripples of blue across the sea. The purified water seemed to hum with her presence, challenging the fabric of Tsukuyomi itself. Her hands rose in a motion as graceful as it was commanding, her stance settling into one of preparation.
"So let's see what you've got, fledgling," Kali said, her voice low and charged with an electric intensity. "Which is really better: your Mangekyō Sharingan or my Nichiren Byakugan?"
"Nichiren Byakugan," Itachi murmured, his gaze narrowing as he repeated the words. He tasted them like something foreign, unfamiliar.
Kali's smirk deepened, her chakra flaring with a brilliance that sent tremors through the space beneath their feet. The crimson sky flickered above them, the oppressive void trembling under the force of her presence. "Consider this your lesson, fledgling," she said, her tone sharp and unyielding as the waters around them erupted into brilliant waves of blue light. "Class is in session."
The tension in the air snapped taut, the inevitable clash hanging just a breath away as the two forces faced off.
"Kali!" Hinata called out despite her fear. She forced herself to step forward, trembling from the earlier torture. "I—I'll help!"
Kali turned her head slightly, her sharp features softening as she offered Hinata a small, reassuring smile. "You're not ready for this yet," she said gently, though her tone left no room for argument. "Watch and learn. That's how you'll help."
With a flick of her wrist, Kali formed a quick seal. Her voice, soft but commanding, rang out like a bell. "Fūton: Spiraling Air Prison."
Before Hinata could react, a powerful vortex of wind swirled around her, lifting her into the air. She gasped as the currents wrapped her in a sphere of churning air, the barrier forcing her to remain suspended in its center. She pressed her hands against it, the sheer force of the gale pushing her back every time she tried to move.
"Kali—wait!" Hinata cried, her voice muffled against the roar of the vortex.
But Kali had already turned away, her focus fully on Itachi. Her gaze hardened, sharp as steel, and her smirk returned, laced with an almost predatory confidence.
"Fledgling," she said, her voice slicing through the storm, "if you thought playing god here made you untouchable, you're in for a rude awakening."
Her stance shifted into the Hyūga's Gentle Fist form, but there was nothing gentle about the ferocity radiating from her. Each movement was deliberate, precise, the fluidity of her stance concealing the explosive power coiled within her.
"Let's dance," Kali said, her voice low and dangerous.
"Seventh Gate: Gate of Wonder—Open!" The declaration erupted like thunder, and Kali pressed a single finger into the tenketsu point just below her navel.
The world reacted immediately. A thunderous surge of power exploded from her, radiating outward in violent waves that tore through the air and water around her. The once-still sea erupted into chaos, a maelstrom of clashing reds and blues spiraling outward from Kali's form. The ground beneath their feet cracked, the very fabric of Tsukuyomi trembling under the weight of her unleashed energy.
White vapor began to rise from Kali's body, swirling around her like an ethereal shroud of pure power. It wasn't just chakra—it was natural energy, harmonized with the explosive force of the opened gates. Her presence burned brighter than any flame, an unyielding torch in the heart of the crimson void.
Itachi's Sharingan flared, the crimson tomoe spinning faster, as though reacting to the magnitude of Kali's power. Despite his composed exterior, there was an urgency in his movements now. He stepped back instinctively, his gaze sharp and calculating, scanning her for weaknesses.
"What do you hope to change?" Itachi's voice rose above the storm, steady but edged with tension. The rippling maelstrom of water and air around them distorted his usually calm tone. "This is still my domain. You cannot undo that."
Kali responded with a biting grin, her eyes narrowing as she took a step forward. Her foot touched the churning water, and the storm stilled momentarily beneath her, as though bowing to her will. "Then it should at least be a fair fight, don't you think, Fledgling?" she said, her words dripping with sarcasm.
She didn't wait for a response. With a sudden burst of motion, Kali vanished from her spot, her speed breaking the surface of the water beneath her. She reappeared in an instant, her palm thrusting forward with the precision of the Gentle Fist—but when her strike connected, the sheer force of the blow sent a shockwave tearing through the air.
Itachi had barely blocked the attack with the broadside of his sword. He then moved to counter, his katana slashing in a deadly arc, but Kali twisted gracefully, her movements so fluid they seemed almost choreographed.
The storm intensified, the clash of their powers sending ripples of distorted energy through the void. Hinata, trapped within the vortex, could only watch, her wide eyes tracking Kali's every motion. It was more than a fight—it was a lesson, a demonstration of control, power, and defiance.
Kali's voice rang out again, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "What's wrong, Uchiha?" she taunted, her grin widening. "I thought this was your world."
For the first time, Itachi's composure truly faltered. His Sharingan flickered, his gaze narrowing as he shifted tactics. But Kali was unrelenting, her energy surging as she prepared to show him exactly what happened when someone overstepped their reach.
She formed the snake seal. "Doton: Great Rising Mountain!"
The shaking intensified, the maelstrom shifting as massive fissures ripped through the ocean. From the depths below, jagged stone erupted in a colossal surge, breaking through the waves. A sprawling, uneven landmass emerged, its slick, jagged surface radiating oppressive heat. The battlefield transformed, the once-endless ocean now split by a towering mountain.
"Let's see what you've got," Kali said, her voice carrying a challenge, her white aura vaporizing the residual water that clung to her new foothold. She crouched, launching herself forward like a comet, the vapor trailing behind her.
Itachi's eyes widened, the Sharingan spinning faster as he processed her speed. In an instant, Kali's Jyuken palm struck his chest, an impact so precise it sent a shockwave rippling through the rocky terrain.
The figure of Itachi burst into dozens of crows, scattering in all directions. The crows circled Kali like a dark storm, their harsh cries blending with the chaos of the battlefield. They converged midair, morphing into a dozen identical Itachis, each wielding a blade aimed directly at her.
"Clones?" Kali scoffed. "Real original."
As the clones descended, their katanas glinting with malice, Kali flicked her wrist. Chakra erupted from her in a spiraling vortex, expanding outward with unrelenting force. The wave of energy obliterated the clones, scattering them into fragments of crows once more.
This wasn't an ordinary Hakkeshō Kaiten. It was precision and power in perfect harmony, the spiraling chakra forming an unyielding barrier. Kali hadn't even moved her feet to generate it—her mastery made it effortless.
The crows reformed into a single Itachi, now floating in the shadow of the black moon. His crimson eyes narrowed. He lifted his hand, and the sky seemed to ignite. Massive fireballs rained down like molten meteors, each one streaking toward Kali with lethal precision.
"Show-off," Kali muttered, forming the dog seal. "Suiton: River Dragon Lord!"
The ocean waters roared to life, rising into a twisting, serpentine form. The enormous dragon of water coiled through the air, intercepting the descending fireballs. Each impact detonated in a burst of steam, shrouding the battlefield in a suffocating mist.
Through the suffocating haze of the battlefield, Itachi's voice cut through with chilling finality. "Amaterasu."
Hinata's breath hitched as she looked up. The void-like moon above trembled, its surface rippling unnaturally before it began to descend. In an instant, the black orb ignited, transforming into a blazing sun of Amaterasu's inextinguishable black flames. The heat was immediate and oppressive, bearing down on the battlefield with an intensity that threatened to consume everything in its path.
"Amaterasu too?!" Kali hissed, her eyes narrowing as her expression hardened. "You're really pulling out all the stops, huh?"
The black sun roared downward, its flames hungering for the mountain, for the sea, for her. Kali didn't flinch. She formed the tiger seal with a swift motion, her open palm beginning to glow with a searing, otherworldly light.
"Katon: Sage's Purifying White Flame!"
From her palm erupted a fire of blinding white brilliance, so intense it pierced through the suffocating mist. The white flame raced upward in a blazing column, colliding with the descending black sun in an explosion of raw elemental power.
The clash was cataclysmic. Darkness and light battled for dominance, their collision rippling across the battlefield with such force that the ground trembled and fractured. The residual mist evaporated entirely, revealing the jagged, barren landscape beneath them as the last remnants of water hissed into steam.
The black and white flames clawed at each other, neither giving way. For a moment, it seemed as though the entire realm would collapse under the sheer magnitude of their struggle. Finally, with a deafening crack, the flames extinguished in a burst of energy, leaving behind a battlefield scorched and divided. One side was burned black, charred by Amaterasu's unholy fire, while the other was seared white, purified by Kali's divine flame.
As the dust settled, Itachi stepped forward, the spectral red armor of Susanoo materializing around him in a silent declaration of escalation. The towering figure shimmered with ethereal power, its crimson form wielding a shield in one hand and a glowing blade in the other.
"I admit," Itachi said, his calm voice tinged with a rare edge of acknowledgment, "the Nichiren Byakugan is truly formidable. But the outcome of this battle was already determined the moment we entered my world."
Kali smirked, her chest rising and falling as she wiped a stray droplet of sweat from her brow. Her gaze flicked over Susanoo with open disdain. "You're awfully smug for someone who keeps losing ground, Fledgling. What's next? Gonna throw another tantrum and pull out a bigger toy?"
Susanoo moved without warning, its massive blade swinging down with terrifying force. The impact carved a fissure through the mountain, the ground splitting apart as debris rained down in jagged torrents. Kali leaped back, her form a blur as she narrowly avoided the crushing strike.
"Your defiance is futile," Itachi said, his voice colder now, the crimson glow of his Sharingan cutting through the dust. "The Yata Mirror negates any attack. The Totsuka Blade seals any soul."
Kali let out a low whistle, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the spectral weapons. The sheer power radiating from them was palpable, oppressive. But her grin didn't falter. "Yata Mirror, Totsuka Blade… Someone's been raiding the god-tier relics section, huh? Did you get those in a clearance sale, or do they come with a free lunch?"
Itachi's Sharingan flared, his tone unyielding. "You mock, but it won't change the inevitable. Tell me—what are you? No ordinary Hyūga could achieve what you've done here."
Kali's grin widened, the biting sarcasm in her tone sharp enough to cut. "Oh, I'm just a passing shrine maiden, Fledgling. A humble wanderer who doesn't take kindly to you torturing kind, sweet girls like Hinata." Her expression darkened, the aura around her flaring like an inferno. "But if you want the specifics, you'll have to try harder than that."
Itachi's silence was telling. His crimson eyes narrowed, his composure still intact but laced with subtle tension. His Sharingan swirled, analyzing her every movement, every word, piecing together the implications of her existence.
"You're something ancient," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "Something that predates even my family's history."
Kali raised her hand, lightning sparking to life in her palm. The raw energy crackled and surged, coiling into a spear of blinding intensity. She took her stance, her Nichiren Byakugan glowing with an ethereal brilliance that seemed to defy the very fabric of Tsukuyomi.
"Keep guessing, Fledgling," she said, her voice low and charged with authority. "Maybe one day you'll hit the mark. But for now… let's see if that fancy shield of yours can block a god's wrath."
The lightning in her hand surged outward, forming into a radiant weapon that crackled with devastating power.
"Raiton: God-Slaying Lance!"
She hurled the spear with a ferocity that shattered the ground beneath her, the air itself splitting in its wake. The weapon tore through the sky like a comet, its electric roar reverberating across the battlefield as it hurtled toward Susanoo with the precision and power of a god's wrath.
The Yata Mirror shifted smoothly, aligning itself to intercept. When the spear connected, there was no explosion, no devastating surge of energy. Instead, the mirror absorbed the impact in complete silence. The spear's brilliance flickered, and then it dissipated entirely, reduced to harmless sparks that fizzled out against the mirror's flawless surface.
Kali's eyes widened slightly, and she let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Well, color me impressed," she said, her tone laced with genuine admiration. "That's one hell of a shield you've got there, Fledgling. No cracks, no feedback… perfect defense." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I might actually have to try harder."
Itachi's gaze sharpened, his Sharingan glowing brighter as his confidence returned. He stepped forward, Susanoo moving in perfect sync with him. Its massive blade swung through the air with devastating speed, carving a path through the battlefield. Kali leaped back, the sheer force of the swing sending shards of jagged rock and debris flying in all directions.
"You're beginning to understand," Itachi said, his voice calm but carrying a faint edge of triumph. "This isn't your domain, no matter how much power you bring to bear. You've reached the peak of what you can accomplish."
Kali landed gracefully atop a jagged outcropping of stone, her movements fluid despite the growing tension in the air. She glanced down at the fissure left by Susanoo's blade, her smirk unfazed but her eyes sharp with calculation.
"Well, well," she said, brushing dust from her shoulder. "Seems like you've found your backbone again, Fledgling. Good. Wouldn't want this to be too easy."
Susanoo lunged, its massive form moving with shocking speed. The spectral blade came down in a vertical slash, the ground beneath its arc splitting like brittle glass. Kali twisted out of the way, her form a blur as she danced around the strikes, each movement effortless yet deliberate.
"You talk about peaks and limits," Kali said, her voice carrying over the sound of destruction as she dodged another swing. "But let me let you in on a little secret." She spun mid-air, narrowly avoiding the blade as it slammed into the ground behind her. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the air, but she landed lightly, crouching with one hand on the fractured terrain.
"I don't have limits," she said, standing tall once more, her smirk widening into something almost feral. "So keep swinging, Itachi. Let's see how far that confidence gets you."
Itachi's Mangekyo Sharingan glinted ominously, the swirling tomoe a reminder that even as cracks formed in his reality, this was still his domain as Susanoo's blade rose again, its spectral energy crackling with unrelenting force. The Tsukuyomi world trembled, its very fabric destabilizing. The battlefield had become a scarred wasteland of black and white, torn apart by Kali's overwhelming techniques and Itachi's unrelenting counterattacks.
Kali stood amidst the chaos, her breathing steady despite the toll of her unleashed power. Her gaze was locked on Itachi, her Nichiren Byakugan glowing faintly in the distorted light. "You know, for someone who prides himself on control, you sure are on the back foot here," she said, her tone laced with biting sarcasm.
Itachi's composure, usually unshakable, faltered for the briefest moment. His mind raced. She was unlike anything he had ever encountered—unpredictable, powerful, and somehow capable of unraveling the very foundations of his illusion. But he knew the odds favored him, the Mangekyo Sharingan had always been his trump card. It had allowed him to stay one step ahead, to enforce his will even in impossible situations.
"Then let me remind you," he said coldly, Susanoo's spectral armor flaring brighter. "Even if you disrupt my control, you cannot alter the inevitable."
But Kali didn't flinch. Instead, she raised her hands, her palms facing each other. The air around her seemed to compress, growing heavy with an ominous energy that reverberated through the Tsukuyomi. The swirling chaos of the battlefield stilled for a moment, all attention drawn to the dark, pulsating orb forming between her hands.
"Senjutsu Hiden: Truthseeker Orb," she whispered, her voice steady but strained.
The orb's presence was unlike anything either Hinata or Itachi had felt before. It was simple in appearance—a black sphere, smooth and featureless—but its very existence carried a weight that pressed against their souls. It wasn't just chakra. It wasn't just natural energy. It was something more, something primordial, as if the world itself was acknowledging its significance.
Itachi's Sharingan focused sharply on the orb, sweat beading on his forehead despite his best efforts to remain calm. He didn't understand what it was, but he knew enough to recognize the danger. Susanoo surged forward, its Totsuka Blade descending in a lethal arc aimed directly at Kali.
The blade never reached her.
Kali raised the Truthseeker Orb, letting it flow into the form of a gohei, a wand of a shrine maiden ordinarily adorned with white paper streamers, but now made pitch black. With a simple motion, she placed the wand between herself and the descending sword. The Totsuka Blade made contact—and vanished. Not in an explosion or a dramatic clash, but simply erased, as if it had never existed.
Itachi froze. His mind reeled. The blade, capable of sealing even the most powerful entities, was gone in an instant. The implication was staggering.
"What was that you were saying about inevitability?" Kali smirked, stepping forward with casual confidence. The gohei twirled in her hand as she approached. Susanoo's Yata Mirror moved to intercept, the ultimate shield raised in defiance.
The gohei struck, and a hole blasted through the spectral armor. The Yata Mirror, said to negate all attacks, cracked and shattered under the weight of the Truthseeker Orb's power.
Itachi stumbled back, his Sharingan spinning wildly as he tried to process what was happening. He had prepared for so many scenarios, so many contingencies, yet this… This was beyond anything he could have anticipated.
Kali closed the distance in an instant, standing so close to him that their faces were mere inches apart. "Got'cha," she whispered, her voice tinged with playful malice. She didn't strike him directly; instead, she raised the gohei, its black streamers brushing lightly against his forehead protector.
The Eight Trigrams symbol flared beneath their feet, its intricate patterns spinning and aligning as Kali commanded. The energy pulsed, and Itachi's entire body jolted. He leaped back instinctively, landing on the water below—but something was wrong.
Itachi raised his hand, his right Mangekyō Sharingan flaring with intent as he attempted to summon Amaterasu. His fingers trembled faintly, but he remained composed, his mind sharp and calculating. The black flames would erase this disturbance, as they always had.
Nothing happened.
He blinked, his gaze narrowing as he tried again. The air remained still, the battlefield unmoved. There were no flames, no oppressive heat, nothing. The crimson hues of the Tsukuyomi world hung eerily static, as though mocking his command.
"…What?" Itachi's voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but the strain in it was undeniable.
His breath quickened ever so slightly as he tried a third time. Still nothing. A flicker of unease sparked in his chest, growing stronger with each failed attempt. He clenched his jaw and forced his breathing to steady, but his hands betrayed him, trembling against his will. Slowly, as though fearing what he might see, he glanced down at his reflection in the water below.
The Mangekyō's distinct, swirling pattern was gone.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. His Sharingan had reverted to its standard form, the three tomoe spinning sluggishly in the rippling water. It was as if his most powerful tool, his ultimate weapon, had been ripped away without him even noticing.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the stillness, sharper than the blade of the Totsuka itself. Beneath his usual calm, desperation clawed at the edges of his tone.
Kali's laughter broke the silence, light and mocking. "Take off the headband," she said, hiking a thumb toward her own forehead, her smirk dripping with mischief. "See for yourself."
Itachi hesitated. His hands twitched as he raised them to his forehead protector, untying it with deliberate precision. The metallic plate glinted faintly in the dim, fractured light of the battlefield as he lowered it, his gaze returning to the water.
The reflection stared back at him—only it wasn't just his face.
An unfamiliar mark adorned his forehead, intricate and alien yet eerily familiar. Its design was sharp and angular, its lines reminiscent of the Hyūga clan's Caged Bird Seal, but more elaborate, more sinister. It pulsed faintly, as though alive, the oppressive energy of its presence sending a chill through his veins.
Itachi's heart sank, the weight of the realization settling heavily in his chest. His lips parted, but no words came, the faint tremor in his fingers now undeniable.
"What… is this?" he finally managed, his voice quieter now, tinged with an uncharacteristic hint of disbelief.
"It's a modified version of the Hyūga's curse seal," Kali explained, her tone casual, almost cheerful, but laced with biting mockery. "Designed to keep your shiny new toy—the Mangekyō Sharingan—nice and sealed away. Permanently."
Her grin widened, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as she leaned forward, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "You can think of it as a safety lock, one that only opens when you're six feet under."
The words hit him with the force of a hammer. Itachi's hands tightened into fists, his grip on the headband trembling. The once-absolute control he held over his world was slipping through his fingers like sand, and for the first time in years, a cold dread settled in his chest.
The battlefield around them seemed to shift, the oppressive aura of Tsukuyomi faltering further. The cracks in his illusion weren't just external—they were inside him now, woven into his very being by the mark Kali had placed on him.
Kali tilted her head, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "What's the matter, Fledgling?" she teased, her tone light but cutting. "Not so fun when the rules aren't in your favor, is it?"
Itachi's hand hovered over his forehead, his fingers brushing the seal that now marred his skin. The mark felt heavy, oppressive, as though it was a physical manifestation of his failures, pressing down on him with unrelenting force. His once-pristine Sharingan, the powerful Mangekyo that had defined so much of his strength, was gone—sealed away by a force he barely understood. And in its absence, the full weight of what he had sacrificed bore down on him with merciless clarity.
The Mangekyo had been more than a tool for him. It had been his burden, his penance, and his weapon of choice in his self-imposed exile. It was the symbol of his resolve and his determination to carry out the impossible task he had chosen: to destroy the Uchiha clan and preserve the fragile peace of the village he loved. Every terrible act, every lie, and every betrayal had been fueled by the belief that the ends justified the means. That Konoha's safety—and Sasuke's future—were worth any price.
But now? Now, the foundation of that resolve was crumbling beneath him.
He closed his eyes, but it didn't bring him peace. The faces of his family, frozen in their last moments, filled the darkness. His father's calm acceptance as the blade struck him down, his mother's whispered apology, and the terror in the eyes of the younger clan members who hadn't understood why their world was ending. He had carried those memories with him every day, a festering wound hidden beneath his stoic façade.
The Mangekyō had been his proof that he could endure it. That he could bear the unbearable. It had given him the power to face the ghosts of his past and the enemies of his present. Without it, he felt exposed—naked before the storm of his failures.
What would Sasuke think of him now? The brother who had promised to grow strong enough to defeat him? Itachi's entire life had been shaped by his love for Sasuke. Every decision he had made had been to ensure his younger brother's survival. The massacre, his defection, his work with the Akatsuki—it had all been to create the illusion of a villain for Sasuke to defeat, a darkness against which Sasuke's light could shine. But with the Mangekyō gone, that illusion was shattered.
The Mangekyō had been the key to his plan. They were to be Sasuke's one day. It was the only way to ensure he wouldn't go blind from the power of his own Mangekyō, which he would no doubt one day achieve. Now how could he hope to continue this mission? To protect Sasuke from the shadows while maintaining the pretense of being a monster? Without the Mangekyō, Itachi's carefully constructed persona was nothing more than a hollow shell.
And yet… as despair threatened to consume him, a thought began to form. A faint glimmer of possibility. It was absurd, a long shot at best, but it was something.
If Sasuke's future was the sole reason for his existence, then perhaps there was a way to salvage this situation. Perhaps there was a way to turn this loss into an opportunity. His mind worked furiously, piecing together fragments of ideas, forming a plan that was as desperate as it was audacious.
His fists clenched, the trembling in his hands stilled by sheer force of will. He would adapt. He had no choice. He had always known that his life was forfeit, that his path would end in blood and darkness. But Sasuke's path didn't have to. He would find a way to use this—use Kali, use Hinata, use the situation unfolding in the real world—to ensure that Sasuke's future remained secure.
Itachi's fingers brushed the seal again, his mind sharpening with resolve. The loss of his Mangekyō didn't erase his purpose—it only redefined it. If he couldn't rely on brute strength or overwhelming power, he would rely on strategy, on deception. The seal on his forehead wasn't just a mark of his defeat; it was an opportunity. Kali and Hinata didn't trust him, and they had every reason not to. But if he could manipulate their mistrust, twist it to his advantage, he could still salvage his mission.
His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Sometimes, survival means making choices others will never understand," he murmured to himself. He would make them understand, eventually. Not now, and not here. But one day.
As the crumbling world of the Tsukuyomi around him began to fade, Itachi steeled himself. The plan forming in his mind was reckless, desperate, and fraught with risk. But it was the only option he had left.
If there was one thing he had learned from a lifetime of sacrifice, it was that sometimes you had to destroy everything—even yourself—to protect what mattered most.
Itachi's hand hovered over his forehead, his fingers brushing the cursed seal that now marred his skin. The oppressive weight of it seemed to press down on him, a tangible reminder of his defeat, but he forced himself to focus. Kali's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, sharp and unrelenting.
"Don't look so glum," she said, her tone mocking but deliberate. "I did you a favor. Those eyes were blinding you, you know? Now maybe you can see clearly for once."
She turned away from him, her attention shifting to Hinata, who remained suspended in the air prison. Kali waved her gohei with an almost dismissive flick of her wrist, and the swirling wind dissipated. Hinata floated downward gently, her trembling form landing unsteadily on the rocky ground.
"You're free now," Kali said softly, her voice losing its edge as she knelt beside Hinata. She rested a hand on the girl's shoulder, her touch grounding. "Let's get you out of this nightmare."
The crumbling world of Tsukuyomi unraveled faster now. The blood-red sky above fractured and fell away into nothingness, the oppressive black moon dissolving into the void. Waves churned violently beneath them as the battlefield's foundations collapsed. But Hinata couldn't focus on any of it. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling as the lingering terror of Itachi's torture remained fresh, seared into her memory.
"You can't survive what's waiting outside," Itachi's voice cut through the cacophony of the dissolving world. His tone was calm but carried a sense of urgency. "Kisame won't hesitate. If you try to fight him as you are, you'll die."
Hinata flinched at the sound, shrinking behind Kali instinctively. His words carried a weight that pulled her back into the fear she had only just begun to escape. Kali stepped in front of Hinata protectively, her expression darkening as her Nichiren Byakugan flared faintly.
"Kisame is different from me," Itachi continued in place of their silence, his normal Sharingan eyes fixed on Kali. "I won't deny the harm I've caused, but Kisame is ruthless. He won't stop. He won't give you a chance to regroup, and he won't show any mercy. You won't have time to hesitate once we're back in the real world."
Kali scoffed, her arms crossed as she stared him down. "Thanks for the warning, Fledgling, but we've already dealt with you. I think we can handle your pet shark."
"You don't understand," Itachi countered, his voice sharp. "Kisame isn't someone you can underestimate. He's a master of drawn-out battles, and he'll wear you down before you realize it. And if you let him get close, it's already over. His sword—Samehada—devours chakra. Which is why… you should leave him to me."
"…Why should we believe you?" Hinata forced herself to ask, though her voice wavered. "You… you tortured me. Why are you offering to help us now?" Her heart pounded in her chest, fear and confusion swirling together. "What are you trying to gain?"
"No, don't answer that." Kali narrowed her eyes, her suspicion cutting through the air like a blade. "Let me guess—you help us, and we owe you, right?"
Itachi's gaze flicked toward her, his expression calm and calculating. "Exactly," he admitted without hesitation. "If you survive, you'll owe me a favor. And given what I've seen, I'd wager your… unique abilities make you more than capable of fulfilling it when the time comes."
Kali scoffed again, shaking her head like a teacher listening to the excuses of a rowdy student. "Do I look like someone who hands out free favors to clan-killers? Whatever you're hoping to gain, you can forget it. You're not getting your Mangekyō back. Not in this life."
Itachi's gaze shifted, settling on Hinata. Her trembling form still betrayed the fear coursing through her, her body rigid as though the weight of his presence alone threatened to shatter her. Yet her wide, tear-filled eyes held something that caught his attention: an ember of defiance, struggling to survive in the storm of her fear.
"It doesn't matter what I want," he said, his voice softening, carrying an uncharacteristic gentleness. "You're not doing this for me. I know that. You'll never trust me, and you shouldn't. But if you don't act, Kisame will take Naruto. He'll tear him from you, and you'll never see him again."
Hinata's breath hitched as his words pierced through the fog clouding her mind. The raw terror she'd felt in the depths of Tsukuyomi warred with the sharp clarity his statement brought. Naruto—her Naruto—taken. The image of him bound, hurt, or worse flashed in her mind, seizing her heart with icy dread.
"You know I'm telling the truth about Kisame," Itachi pressed, his tone steady and unyielding. "He doesn't care about you or your team. His loyalty is only to the mission, and that mission is Naruto. If you fail to stop him, Naruto will be gone—taken to a place you'll never reach."
Hinata's fists clenched, her knuckles turning white as the words sank in. The thought of losing Naruto, of failing him, ignited something deep inside her. Her trembling began to slow, her fear tempered by a growing resolve.
Kali's lips curled into a scowl, her gaze fixed on Itachi with searing disdain. "You're just trying to manipulate her. You're banking on her feelings for Naruto to get her to play along."
Itachi didn't flinch. Instead, he met Kali's glare head-on, his own gaze sharp and unwavering. "I don't need to manipulate her," he said coldly. "She knows what I'm saying is true. If you don't act now, Naruto will be lost to her."
Kali opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Hinata's voice broke through, soft but steady. "Enough."
Kali turned to her, startled by the steel threading through the single word.
Hinata's hands tightened further into fists, her body trembling once more—but this time, not out of fear. The thought of Naruto being taken, of his light being extinguished, was more terrifying than anything Itachi could have shown her. She didn't trust him—she couldn't—but the logic of his words left her no room for hesitation.
"What… what do we have to do?" she asked, her voice breaking at first but steadying as she met Itachi's gaze head-on.
A faint flicker of something passed through Itachi's eyes—respect, perhaps, or recognition of her resolve. "When we return to the real world, you need to act immediately," he said. His voice remained calm, but there was a weight behind it now, a sense of urgency that pressed against them both. "I'll keep Kisame occupied. If you want to protect him, you need to move exactly according to my plan."
Hinata swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the thought of what lay ahead. Her fear surged again, battling against the fiery determination rising within her. "And what happens after?" she asked, her voice stronger now, a hard edge creeping into her tone. "What happens when I owe you this favor?"
Itachi's gaze didn't waver. "You'll know when the time comes," he said cryptically. "But for now, focus on surviving. That's all that matters."
Kali stepped between them, her expression darkening. Her voice dropped, sharp and venomous. "If this is some kind of trick, I'll find you," she hissed. "Even if I have to claw my way out of the afterlife to do it."
Itachi inclined his head slightly, the faintest acknowledgment of her threat. His calm demeanor didn't falter, but his eyes betrayed a hint of desperation, a sliver of urgency pushing against his normally calculated mask.
Hinata looked between the two of them, her mind a storm of emotions. The memory of Itachi's torture lingered, haunting her, but it was overshadowed now by something stronger: her need to protect Naruto.
"I'll do whatever it takes to protect Naruto," she said firmly, her voice low but resolute. Her lavender eyes locked onto Itachi's, filled with a mixture of fear and newfound strength.
Itachi inclined his head again, this time in agreement. "Good," he said simply. "Then listen closely. I'm going to tell you the plan. You'll only have seconds to act, so you can't hesitate."
Hinata nodded, her breaths coming faster as her fear tried to claw its way back to the surface. But for the first time since the nightmare began, there was a sliver of hope. Whatever it took, she would protect Naruto. Even if it meant working with the man she feared most.
Chapter End
AN: There's a lot of implications for things that are teased in this chapter, but I would like to wait a couple chapters before I delve into what they are and my thinking.