Hinata of the White Lotus
Death of a Traitor
Time in the real world started to move again.
Hinata's knees buckled the moment the oppressive weight of the Tsukuyomi lifted. She leaned against the wall for support, her breath ragged and shallow, her body trembling as if she had run for miles. The suffocating red void was gone, replaced by the dim, flickering light of the hotel's hallway, but her heart raced as if she were still trapped in that terrible world. She was back.
But so was he.
Itachi stood before her, his presence as commanding and terrifying as ever. His eyes no longer held the swirling tomoe of the Mangekyō Sharingan, and yet the aura of danger surrounding him remained palpable. Beneath his Leaf headband, Hinata knew, was the seal Kali had placed upon him—a mark that had severed his connection to those monstrous abilities forever. But even without the Mangekyō, Itachi Uchiha was no ordinary shinobi. His skills alone were legendary, the kind of prowess that could unnerve even the most seasoned of enemies.
Hinata forced herself to look at him, her body still trembling. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to fight, to do something—but she didn't move. She couldn't. They had struck a fragile truce, an uneasy alliance forged in the impossible space of the Tsukuyomi. She didn't trust him, not entirely, but she knew she couldn't face what was coming alone.
Itachi gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment of their agreement. His expression remained as stoic as ever, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made her shiver. He wasn't just a man stripped of power—he was someone recalculating, adapting. Dangerous in a new way.
The silence was shattered by a voice from inside the room.
"Who the hell are you?" Naruto's voice rang out, loud and defiant, but tinged with confusion. Hinata turned to see her teammates—Naruto, Kiba, and Shino—on their feet. Their bodies were tense, their eyes locked on the hulking figure that had entered the room.
Hoshigaki Kisame.
The shark-like man loomed in the doorway, his presence as suffocating as the blade strapped to his back. Samehada, wrapped in its eerie bandages, exuded an almost tangible menace. Kisame's razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light as his smirk widened, his predatory gaze scanning the room.
"Well, isn't this cozy," Kisame said, his voice a low rumble. "Three little shinobi, ripe for the picking. And a Jinchūriki to boot." His hand rested casually on Samehada's hilt, the promise of violence evident in every movement. "This'll be fun."
Naruto bristled, his fists clenching. "What do you want with us?" His voice was bold, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Even he could sense the overwhelming danger radiating from Kisame.
Kisame ignored the question, his smirk growing wider. "Think I'll start by shaving those legs off, just to keep you from running." His grip tightened on Samehada, and the room seemed to grow colder.
Kiba stepped forward, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. "You'll have to get through us first!"
Shino, ever composed, adjusted his glasses. "Hinata," he called, his voice steady but urgent, "what's going on? Who are these people?"
Before she could answer, Kisame began to step forward, his massive frame dwarfing the already cramped room. Hinata's heart clenched. Her team didn't understand—they didn't realize just how far out of their league they were. Kisame wasn't just strong. He was overwhelming. His presence felt like a tidal wave, and they were little more than pebbles in his path.
Itachi moved.
"Katon: Great Fireball Jutsu."
The seals were a blur, too fast for Hinata's eyes to follow. One moment Itachi was standing still, and the next, a massive inferno roared past her. The heat was suffocating, singeing her hair and scorching her skin, but she didn't flinch. The fireball wasn't meant for her.
"What the—!?" Kisame's smirk faltered as the fireball struck Samehada's bandaged surface with a deafening impact. The force blasted him out of the room and into the night, the wall crumbling away in an explosion of rubble and smoke. The roar of the flames was matched only by the distant hum of the casino lights and the muted cheers of gamblers outside.
The entire city seemed oblivious to the chaos unfolding above them.
Hinata's knees gave out, and she sank to the floor as the heat dissipated. The gaping hole in the wall revealed the glittering skyline of Higaoka, a stark contrast to the destruction in the room.
Itachi turned to her, his face calm but his voice laced with quiet urgency. "I'm counting on you." His words were soft, but they carried the weight of an unspoken command.
Hinata managed a shaky nod, her chest tightening as he stepped past her, heading toward the hole in the wall. Naruto, Kiba, and Shino stared at him in stunned silence, their confusion and fear palpable.
"Who the hell is that?" Kiba demanded, his voice cracking.
Itachi didn't respond. He didn't spare them a glance as he leapt through the hole and into the night, his cloak billowing behind him. The three boys turned to Hinata, their faces demanding answers. But Hinata could only stare at the shattered wall, her heart pounding as the weight of what was to come settled over her. She had no idea how they were going to survive this.
Yet she knew it would have to be done together.
She didn't answer Kiba's question immediately. Instead, she sprinted across the room, pushing past her own exhaustion as she reached the broken wall. Leaning over the jagged edge, she activated her Nichiren Byakugan, scanning the chaos below.
It was worse than she feared.
Kisame hadn't just been blasted into the next building—he had gone clean through it, leaving a gaping hole in the structure. The patrons inside were fleeing in droves, their terrified screams echoing through the streets. People trampled one another in their desperation to escape, the panic spreading like wildfire. The once-glittering city was descending into chaos, and it wouldn't take long for the rest of the town to be swept up in the fear. These weren't just rogue shinobi—they were S-rank criminals, the kind of opponents entire villages feared. Their fight wasn't just a danger to her team—it could level the entire city.
Hinata turned back to her team, the white lotus in her eyes glowing as she forced herself to stand tall. She looked at each of them in turn: Naruto, his fists clenched and his expression confused but determined; Kiba, already pacing with a nervous energy, Akamaru whining at his feet; Shino, silent and watchful, his gaze unreadable but focused.
Now wasn't the time for hesitation. Every second she wasted was another life potentially lost. She had to act, and she had to believe in her team to follow her lead.
"They're here for Naruto-kun," she said at last, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.
"Me?" Naruto exclaimed, pointing at himself, his face a mixture of indignation and confusion. "What the hell did I do?"
Hinata hesitated for a fraction of a second. Did he really not know? If even Naruto was unaware, then this wasn't the time to explain. She couldn't burden him with that now—not when they had to act.
"The why doesn't matter," she said firmly, though the words felt heavy in her throat. "What's important is stopping them before they hurt anyone else."
"And just who are 'they'?" Kiba demanded, his voice rising with a mix of anger and fear. "Who the hell are we dealing with, Hinata?"
Hinata took a deep breath. "Hoshigaki Kisame, a former member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist," she began, her tone grave. "And Uchiha Itachi, a rogue shinobi of Konoha."
"Uchiha?" Naruto's head snapped up at the name, his expression shifting. "As in Sasuke's brother?"
Hinata nodded but pressed on. "It seems they've turned on each other. They're fighting now, but we can't assume that will stop Kisame. He's dangerous—more than we've ever faced before."
Shino adjusted his glasses, his voice calm but clipped. "Our mission, then, is to get Naruto out of here as quickly as possible?"
Hinata shook her head, knowing her next words would be met with resistance. "…No. We're going to provide backup for Itachi-san."
The room fell silent. Her teammates stared at her as if she had lost her mind.
"You can't be serious!" Kiba shouted, his voice cracking. "You mean that Uchiha Itachi, right? The guy who wiped out his entire clan? Why the hell would we help him? And if he's fighting someone like Hoshigaki Kisame, what can we even do? This fight is way out of our league, Hinata!"
Akamaru barked, echoing Kiba's protest. Even Shino looked hesitant, his usual calm demeanor strained. For a moment, Hinata faltered. Kiba's words were true—every single one of them. It was madness. And yet…
"Hinata," Naruto's voice broke through the noise. He stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers. "You've got a plan, right? I don't know what the hell's going on, but if you think there's a chance we can do something, then I'm behind you all the way." His hand landed on her shoulder, firm and reassuring. "You're the captain of this team. Besides, doing something is better than running away."
Hinata felt her chest tighten, but not from fear. Naruto's words reminded her of why she had chosen him for this mission. He believed in her—even when she struggled to believe in herself.
"…Naruto is right," Shino said after a long pause, his voice steady once more. "Hinata, explain your plan. We'll decide as a team."
Kiba groaned, dragging his hands through his hair. "This is insane. Absolutely insane." He stomped his foot, his frustration evident, but then he threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Let's freaking do this!" he shouted, as if trying to convince himself. Akamaru barked in agreement, wagging his tail nervously.
"Thank you…" Hinata whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She looked at each of them again, her gaze lingering on Naruto's reassuring smile, Shino's calm resolve, and Kiba's reluctant determination. They were with her. She wasn't alone.
Her heart still pounded, but it wasn't from fear anymore. It was from the weight of the responsibility she carried—and the faith her team had placed in her. She straightened her back, her resolve hardening.
They were counting on her. She couldn't let them down. Her hands tightened into fists. This wasn't just about Naruto or Itachi or even the mission. This was about her stepping up, leading her team through the storm that awaited them.
"Here's what we're going to do," she began, her voice firm and clear. And with that, the plan began to take shape.
Itachi stood silently on the cracked street below, his red eyes scanning the chaos around him. The faint glow of the city lights bathed the scene in an eerie brilliance, a juxtaposition of the mundane and the catastrophic. The soft roar of fleeing civilians, the distant wails of alarms, and the echoes of hurried footsteps provided a grim soundtrack to the chaos he had unleashed.
Kisame was a force to be reckoned with. Itachi knew that better than anyone. The fireball he had used to gain the upper hand had been a momentary advantage, nothing more. Kisame wasn't the type to fall for such tricks twice, and the real battle was only just beginning.
Itachi's greatest weapon—the Mangekyō Sharingan—was gone, stripped from him by Kali's seal. Without it, he had lost the overwhelming power that had always tipped the scales in his favor. He would have to rely on his skill, his precision, and his intellect. But even those would not be enough if Kisame retained his own trump card: the living weapon Samehada.
The sword wasn't just a weapon. It was a predator, a chakra-draining monstrosity that thrived in combat. To fight Kisame without neutralizing Samehada was suicide. Itachi knew that if he had any chance of winning this battle, he would have to take Kisame's advantage away.
Stooping down, Itachi reached into a hidden pouch and withdrew a scroll. His movements were smooth and deliberate, despite the tension coursing through his body. Unfurling the scroll, he laid it flat against the cracked pavement, his fingers forming a swift series of seals. With a quiet burst of smoke, the seal on the scroll activated, and a small, unassuming sake gourd materialized before him.
Itachi's hand hovered over the gourd for a moment, his fingers brushing its surface. The gourd was more than it seemed—a vessel containing the legendary Totsuka Blade, a weapon capable of sealing any foe with a single strike. But wielding it without the protection of Susanoo came with its own risks. He knew the cost of failure: his own soul would be sealed within the gourd if he failed to land a decisive blow.
Carefully, he picked up the gourd and attached it to his waist. Its weight felt heavier than usual—not physically, but in the sense of the burden it carried. This was a gamble, and Itachi never gambled without good reason. Every step in this battle would have to be precise, calculated, and decisive.
Straightening, he cast a glance toward the ruined building where Kisame had been blasted moments earlier. The time for preparation was over. The battle was about to begin.
Across from him, Kisame emerged from the smoking rubble of the building he'd been blasted into, brushing off debris as if it were nothing more than dust. The shark-man's smirk was as sharp as the jagged teeth that framed his mouth, his massive, bandage-wrapped sword, Samehada, resting on his shoulder. Despite the attack, he was unscathed, his expression exuding both amusement and anticipation.
"Well, well," Kisame drawled, his deep voice carrying a chilling edge. "So it's come to this after all, Itachi-san." His words weren't angry, nor was there any sense of betrayal. If anything, he sounded almost… pleased. His grip tightened on Samehada, the bandages unraveling to reveal the living, writhing entity beneath. The weapon shifted and hissed, the rows of spines along its body quivering as though eager for the fight. "Do you remember the first time we met?"
Itachi's gaze remained steady, his face unreadable as always. "…I do," he replied simply.
The memory hung between them like an unspoken bond. Their first meeting had been like this—two killers standing on the edge of uncertainty, sizing one another up. Kisame had spoken first, back then, too.
"The feeling of killing your comrades… It's indescribable, isn't it?" Kisame had said with a grin. It was his way of breaking the ice, though the words were razor-sharp.
At the time, Itachi had offered no answer, merely watching the man who would become his partner. There had been no trust between them then, and there never would be. But that was the foundation of their partnership. Two traitors, bound not by loyalty but by mutual recognition of what they were: tools for the Akatsuki, monsters who had discarded the bonds of their past lives.
Kisame's voice brought Itachi back to the present. "The feeling of killing your comrades… It's the same now as it was then, isn't it? Indescribable." His smile widened as he gestured around them. "Come on, Itachi-san. Tell me. What are you feeling right now? Betraying someone again, standing on the edge like this. Doesn't it just bring it all back?"
Itachi's eyes flickered to Kisame, his expression as stoic as ever. His voice, when it came, was quiet but sharp as a blade. "Hard to say," he admitted, his tone devoid of emotion. Then, after a brief pause: "Since the very beginning, I never saw you as a comrade."
Kisame's laugh echoed through the street, loud and guttural, cutting through the tension like a blade. "I figured you'd say that!" he barked, his mirth genuine. "Well, I guess that can't be helped. I told you to be wary of me when we first met, didn't I? And you told me the same. Guess that's why we worked so well together."
The shark-man's smile twisted into something darker as he hefted Samehada, the weapon's gaping maw snapping hungrily. "But here we are now, huh? Staring each other down like this. Maybe the last opponent we'll ever see. Tell me, Itachi-san… Was it worth it? Stepping in now, of all times, to save the Jinchūriki's life?"
Itachi didn't flinch at the question, his grip tightening on the sake gourd he'd unsealed moments before. Slowly, he tipped it, letting the golden liquid spill out onto the cracked pavement. As the puddle grew, the abyssal black hilt of a katana began to rise from its center, its blade gleaming blood-red in the flickering light. He reached down, grasping the weapon with deliberate precision.
"As always, you talk a lot," Itachi said flatly, straightening with the Totsuka Blade in hand.
Kisame's grin only widened as he took a step forward, his bloodlust palpable. "The Totsuka Blade, huh? The sword that seals its victims with a single strike. I'm honored you'd bring it out for me, Itachi-san," he said, his tone mocking yet respectful. "But tell me… do you think you can actually hit me with it? Stand toe-to-toe with me in kenjutsu?"
Itachi said nothing, his silence a challenge in itself.
Kisame laughed again, the sound rolling through the empty streets. "You always were like this. Quiet, keeping your cards close to your chest. That's why you were the only one I didn't mind partnering with. No whining, no theatrics, just action. But you're not the only one holding a trump card, Itachi-san." He raised Samehada, the living blade quivering with excitement. "You know as well as I do that in a straight-up fight, you don't stand a chance. So what's your game, huh? What's the plan this time?"
Itachi's eyes flickered, just briefly, to the hole in the hotel wall above them. He could see them moving—Hinata's team, scattering like leaves in the wind. Naruto and his clones were already working to evacuate civilians, their energy buzzing through the streets like a wildfire. Kiba and Shino followed their assigned tasks, their movements precise and efficient. And then there was Hinata, crouched at the edge of the ruined wall, her Nichiren Byakugan active, her gaze locked on the battle below.
Itachi turned his attention back to Kisame, his grip on the Totsuka Blade firm. "You'll see soon enough," he said quietly.
Above him, Hinata steadied her breathing, her focus unbroken as she waited for her moment. The battle was about to begin. They all had their roles to play, and she would not falter.
Itachi's gaze hardened. His time was limited—five minutes from the moment he pulled the blade from the gourd. If he didn't strike down Kisame within that time limit, it would be his soul sealed within the gourd instead. There was no room for error.
Kisame's smirk grew wider, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Well then, Itachi-san. Let's make this a fight to remember."
With that, the street exploded into motion.
Itachi didn't dignify Kisame's earlier taunts with a reply. His body surged forward, the hem of his Akatsuki cloak billowing behind him like the shadow of a predator. His movements were seamless, so smooth it appeared as if he were gliding across the ground.
The moment he closed the distance, the clash was thunderous. The blood-red Totsuka Blade collided with Samehada, the grotesque living sword meeting the mythical weapon in a shower of sparks. Samehada's jagged, scale-like surface absorbed the impact with ease, its dense, otherworldly skin impervious even to the Totsuka's legendary edge.
For a heartbeat, the two warriors were locked in a deadly tableau, sparks illuminating their faces. Itachi's crimson Sharingan bore into Kisame's cold, shark-like eyes. Even without the Mangekyō, the Sharingan was an unparalleled weapon. A single glance was enough to cast most enemies into a debilitating illusion.
But as the illusion formed, it shattered in an instant. Kisame's laughter boomed, his voice rough and triumphant. "Nice try!" he barked, Samehada trembling in his hands as if savoring a feast. The sword had consumed the Genjutsu like a hungry beast, its chakra-eating nature rendering Itachi's technique useless.
Itachi was forced back, his body sliding across the pavement. Kisame was relentless, closing the gap in an instant with the force of a battering ram. Samehada swung with wild abandon, arcs of deadly force slicing through the air. Despite the sword's size and weight, Kisame wielded it with one hand, the ease of his swings defying logic. Each strike carried enough power to shatter stone and cleave through reinforced steel.
Itachi had no choice but to dodge. The blows came too fast, too strong, and too heavy to block. His crimson eyes tracked every twitch of Kisame's muscles, every minute shift in his stance, yet even with his precognitive ability, he found himself pushed to his limits. Kisame's sheer physical prowess was monstrous, his strength, speed, and reflexes honed to an absurd level.
Four minutes remaining.
Above them, Hinata watched the battle unfold through her Nichiren Byakugan, her breath caught in her throat. Her vision, enhanced as it was, struggled to keep up with the frenetic speed of their movements. It wasn't just the raw power they displayed—it was the absurd precision, the way each move flowed into the next like an intricate dance of death.
They weren't simply fighting. They were demonstrating mastery of combat on a scale that felt utterly unattainable. Each clash of their weapons sent shockwaves through the street below, cracks spider-webbing across the pavement. The air seemed to vibrate with the sheer force of their exchanges.
Hinata's mind reeled. How could anyone move like this?
Itachi sidestepped a vicious downward swing from Samehada, the jagged blade carving a deep gouge into the street. Using the opening, he twisted his wrist, the Totsuka Blade slicing upward in a fluid arc aimed at Kisame's exposed side. Kisame reacted instantly, twisting Samehada back into position to intercept. Sparks erupted as the blades collided again, the force of the clash causing both fighters to skid apart.
Itachi wasted no time, closing the gap once more. He feinted low, his blade darting toward Kisame's legs, but Kisame anticipated the maneuver, sweeping Samehada downward to block. Itachi spun on his heel, redirecting his momentum into an upward slash aimed at Kisame's chest. The shark-like swordsman leaned back just enough to avoid the strike, grinning all the while.
"You're slowing down, Itachi-san!" Kisame taunted, swinging Samehada in a brutal horizontal arc. Itachi ducked just in time, the blade passing inches above his head, the wind from the swing whipping through his hair.
Three minutes remaining.
Hinata's fingers clenched against the broken edge of the hotel wall as she continued to watch. The absurdity of what she was seeing made her chest tighten. Itachi wasn't just dodging and countering; he was doing so while keeping track of every detail—Kisame's stance, the unpredictable movements of Samehada, and the ever-shifting battlefield. Every step, every strike, was a gamble calculated to perfection.
And yet, it wasn't enough. Kisame's raw strength and stamina were overwhelming. Itachi, even with his unparalleled intellect and skill, was being pushed back. For every strike he dodged or deflected, Kisame responded with two more, each faster and more aggressive than the last.
A particularly brutal strike from Samehada forced Itachi to leap backward, his feet landing against the wall of a nearby building. Using the vertical surface as leverage, he kicked off, flipping over Kisame's head. The motion was smooth and practiced, his blade slicing downward mid-air. Samehada met it with a resounding clang, the two weapons locking together briefly before Itachi was knocked back again.
Two minutes remaining.
Kisame's grin widened as he pressed the attack, his relentless swings driving Itachi further into a corner. "What's the matter, Itachi-san? Is this really the best you've got?" he jeered, his voice dripping with mockery. Samehada trembled in his grip, the living blade eager for more chakra to devour.
Itachi's breath came faster now, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. He couldn't afford to let this drag out any longer. Every second counted. Every second brought him closer to the gourd's sealing curse activating against him. His crimson eyes darted upward, briefly catching Hinata's gaze. She was still there, watching, waiting for the opening he was trying so desperately to create.
He had to trust her. He had no choice.
Resetting his stance, Itachi prepared himself for the final moments. Time was slipping away, but he wasn't finished yet.
Itachi moved with precision, his Sharingan tracking Kisame's every motion. As Samehada lunged, its grotesque, toothed mouth snapping hungrily, Itachi sprang backward. But the living sword extended its handle unnaturally, stretching like rubber to close the distance. Its jaws clamped down, seemingly catching Itachi whole.
For a moment, Kisame grinned, believing he had won.
Then, Itachi's form burst apart into a flurry of crows, their discordant cries filling the air. The murder of crows swirled around Kisame, clawing at his face and eyes.
"Substitution Jutsu," Kisame muttered, swinging wildly at the birds. "Sneaky bastard." He spotted one crow hovering longer than the rest, and he swore it bore a single, glinting Sharingan eye. It cawed mockingly before flapping away, its shadow lost in the chaos.
Amid the flurry, the Totsuka Blade slashed through the air, emerging from the swirl of crows. Its blood-red edge came within inches of Kisame's eye, poised for the strike that would seal him forever.
Kisame ducked just in time, the blade slicing the air above him. "That's dirty play in a sword fight, Itachi-san!" Kisame barked, his razor-toothed grin widening. "But hey, we're not swordsmen—we're ninja."
The two combatants leaped apart, landing at opposite ends of the broken street.
One minute left.
Kisame adjusted his grip on Samehada, his grin never wavering. "Well then, Itachi-san, if you get to use your crows…" He pricked his finger on one of Samehada's jagged scales, a bead of blood pooling on his skin. "Then I get to use my sharks."
He tossed Samehada high into the air, the living sword spinning end over end above them. As the sword hung suspended, Kisame slammed his bloodied hand onto the ground. "Summoning Jutsu!"
The street trembled, a deafening roar ripping through the night. Water erupted around them in a massive tidal wave, carrying a dozen sharks within its churning depths. The creatures were massive, their sleek bodies gleaming as they rode the wave, their razor-sharp teeth bared. The wave towered over the street, smashing through abandoned stalls and signs, sending debris flying.
Kisame rode the crest of the wave like a king, laughing as the flood surged forward. The sharks leaped from the water, their jaws snapping hungrily as they descended upon Itachi.
Itachi darted across the water's surface, his chakra keeping him balanced as the tidal wave surged beneath his feet. A shark lunged, and he deflected it with a quick slash of the Totsuka Blade. The creature burst into smoke, but two more immediately took its place.
Above, Hinata and her team moved into action.
Naruto's wood clones, strategically placed around the perimeter, activated. "Mokuton: Deep Forest Emergence!" The clones transformed into towering trees, their roots snaking through the waterlogged streets and locking into place. The massive trunks closed the gaps between the buildings, creating a barricade that trapped Kisame's tidal wave within a confined area. The floodwaters surged against the wooden barriers, unable to escape and spread further into the city.
"Go, Akamaru!" Kiba shouted, leaping into the fray with his partner. The two of them spun into a pair of whirling drills, their Gatsūga tearing through the summoned sharks like a tornado of destruction. Each shark that lunged at Itachi met the spinning fangs of Kiba and Akamaru, bursting into smoke as they were struck down.
"Not bad, dog boy!" Kisame taunted, grinning as his sharks continued to swarm. "But let's see how many you can handle!"
Thirty seconds left.
Hinata's gaze locked onto her target: Samehada. The grotesque, living sword spun through the air, its gaping, toothed maw open wide, as if hungering for its master's grip. It seemed almost alive in its anticipation, its twisted energy pulsing with chaotic intensity. Flaring the Nichiren Byakugan, Hinata could see the truth behind its monstrous form.
Her enhanced vision pierced through its outer shell, revealing the intricate web of natural chakra coursing through its tenketsu. Among the dense network of energy points, one shone brighter than the rest—a core, pulsating with an unnatural brilliance. Its heart.
She steadied herself, the chaos of the battlefield fading into the background. Her breathing slowed, her muscles tensed. Everything—the fear, the pain, the overwhelming odds—narrowed into this single moment.
"Second Gate: Gate of Rest—Open!"
Chakra erupted within her, flooding her battered body with renewed energy. The pain of the gates flowed through her muscles, her vision sharpening, and the world seemed to slow around her. Hinata launched herself from the shattered wall, her form a blur of speed and determination. Water splashed beneath her as she sailed through the air, her kunai glinting in her hand.
Samehada's monstrous maw twisted mid-spin, almost as if it sensed her intent. Its jagged teeth gnashed in defiance, its form twisting unnaturally as it tried to evade her. But Hinata's eyes remained locked on the glowing tenketsu point at its core. She could see it—the perfect strike.
With surgical precision, she thrust her kunai forward. The blade pierced the critical tenketsu, sinking deep into the pulsating core.
The reaction was immediate.
Samehada let out an ear-piercing screech, a sound so unnatural and shrill that it seemed to cut through the very fabric of reality. The wail reverberated through the air, stabbing into Hinata's ears like shards of glass. Her head felt as though it would split open, the sound burrowing into her skull and rattling her bones.
She gritted her teeth, her vision blurring under the onslaught, but she didn't falter. She clung to the kunai embedded in Samehada, holding her ground as the living sword began to thrash wildly in its death throes.
The spikes along its grotesque body extended in violent, unpredictable bursts. One grazed her Chūnin vest, tearing the fabric, while another sliced cleanly across her forearm. Pain flared sharply, hot and immediate, as more spikes lashed out, leaving deep cuts on her legs and a stinging gash across her cheek.
Samehada twisted violently, whipping its handle around like a flailing club. Hinata barely had time to react before the handle struck her square across the temple.
The force was staggering. Stars exploded in her vision, and the world tilted violently as she was sent hurtling backward. The air was driven from her lungs as she slammed into the water below, the impact sending shockwaves through her already battered body.
She sank beneath the surface, the cold water rushing over her, stealing what little breath she had left. Her ears rang with a deafening silence, the lingering echoes of Samehada's screech drowning out the world. Her limbs felt heavy, her wounds burning as the salty water seeped into them.
For a moment, panic threatened to overtake her. Her mind screamed at her to move, to fight, but her body felt sluggish, her strength drained.
Then, through the haze of pain and disorientation, she forced herself to look up.
Samehada was still thrashing, but its movements were growing weaker, its once-ferocious energy dimming. The glowing tenketsu at its core flickered like a dying flame. Finally, with one last shudder, the monstrous sword went still.
Hinata broke through the surface of the water, gasping for air. She struggled to stay afloat, her arms trembling as she paddled to keep herself upright. Her vision blurred with exhaustion, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she couldn't look away from the sword.
Samehada floated lifelessly on the water's surface, its grotesque form now inert. The once-vibrant network of chakra she had seen with her Nichiren Byakugan was gone, extinguished like a snuffed-out candle.
Samehada was dead.
Hinata let out a shuddering breath, her shoulders shaking as the weight of the moment settled over her. The chaos of the battlefield surged around her once more, but for this brief, fleeting moment, she had succeeded. She had done the impossible.
One of the Seven Swords of the Bloody Mist met its end like that—struck down not in a grand duel between legendary swordsmen, but by the calculated strike of a Hyūga Chūnin who dared to stand against the odds. Samehada, a living weapon infamous for its voracious appetite for chakra and its unholy bond with its wielder, was gone. Its death was not just the loss of a tool but the extinguishing of a legacy.
The Seven Swords of the Bloody Mist were more than weapons; they were icons of terror, symbols of the Mist Village's ruthless efficiency and brutality. Each blade carried its own legend, forged through blood and battle, passed down through generations of the strongest swordsmen. To lose even one of these blades was to diminish the myth of the Seven Swordsmen themselves—a group that had once been the pride of the Mist, a force so feared that their names alone could stop wars before they began.
Samehada was the most unique of them all, a sentient weapon that chose its wielder and turned them into a force of nature. Its death was not just the end of a sword but the death of a bond—a partnership that had transcended the typical relationship between weapon and wielder. Kisame and Samehada were inseparable, their combined power unstoppable. To sever that connection was to render Kisame vulnerable in a way he hadn't been in decades.
The implications of this loss were vast. With Samehada gone, the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist were now six. The balance of power in the Mist Village—already fragile after the bloody reign of the Yondaime Mizukage—would shift once this news reached its shores. The legend of the Seven Swords would never be the same, their invincible aura shattered by the death of one of their own.
For Hinata, the weight of what she had done might not yet fully register. In her hands, the Nichiren Byakugan had struck down an artifact of myth, something far older and more dangerous than she could yet comprehend. In that instant, she had changed not just the course of her own battle but a piece of history. Samehada was gone, and with it, a piece of the Mist's fearsome legacy was laid to rest, never to be reborn.
Kisame's roar echoed like a thunderclap, raw and unfiltered rage seeping into every corner of the battlefield. "Samehada!" His voice cracked, guttural and wounded, as if he had lost a piece of his very soul. The playful smirk that had never left his face was gone, replaced by unbridled fury. His eyes were wide, his shark-like teeth bared as he fixated on Hinata.
"You'll pay for this," he growled, his tone low and dangerous, a predator circling its prey. Samehada wasn't just a weapon to him; it was a companion, an extension of his being. Its loss hit him harder than he cared to admit, and the void it left in his heart ignited a primal fury that drove him forward.
Kisame charged like a storm unleashed, his bare fists crashing through the waterlogged streets with the force of a tidal wave. The summoned sharks, sensing their master's intent, swarmed toward Hinata in a chaotic frenzy, their rows of razor-sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight.
"Gatsuga!" Kiba and Akamaru were there in an instant, their spinning, drilling strikes cutting through the sharks like twin whirlwinds. The summoned beasts burst into clouds of smoke with every hit, but Kisame's relentless momentum didn't falter.
"Get out of my way!" Kisame roared, his fist swinging like a wrecking ball. The impact sent Kiba and Akamaru flying, crashing through the wall of a nearby building. Kisame didn't even glance at them as he pressed on, his focus locked entirely on Hinata.
"Mokuton: Partial Transformation Jutsu!" One of Naruto's remaining wood clones acted just in time, its arms extending and twisting into wooden tendrils. They shot across the battlefield, snatching Hinata from Kisame's reach like a lifeline and pulling her onto the rooftop of a nearby building.
The real Naruto crouched next to her, cradling her in his arms. "I got you," he said, his voice firm yet tinged with worry. Hinata managed to crack an eye open, catching a glimpse of Kisame's bloodshot gaze burning with unrelenting rage. Even now, through the haze of her injuries, she could see his sorrow interwoven with his fury.
Kisame advanced, his stride relentless, his towering frame cutting through the chaos. Around him, sharks churned in a swirling vortex of destruction, their teeth bared and ready to shred anything in their path. Water surged and roared, a maelstrom of raw, unforgiving power that matched the fury in his eyes.
But then, in a blur of motion, Itachi moved. The Totsuka Blade struck true, piercing Kisame clean through the chest. The crimson glow of the ethereal weapon illuminated the storm, cutting through the chaos like a beacon of finality.
Kisame froze mid-step, his massive body stiffening as if time itself had halted. His gills flared, a strangled gasp escaping his lips. He looked down slowly, his bloodshot eyes locking onto the blade embedded in his heart. The sealing process began immediately, translucent liquid crawling up his legs, dissolving him into the essence of the gourd.
Itachi stood before him, both hands gripping the hilt of the blade, his expression unreadable but weighted with grim determination. "No one who betrays a comrade dies a decent death," Itachi whispered, his voice quiet but cutting, a blade of its own. "Isn't that right, Kisame?"
Kisame coughed, blood splattering from his lips as a low, rasping chuckle escaped him. His shark-like teeth gleamed in the crimson glow of the blade, his grin wide and defiant even as his life drained away. "Right you are, Itachi-san," he rasped, his voice thick with blood. "But I'll take a piece of you with me."
Before Itachi could react, Kisame lunged forward with startling speed, his powerful jaws clamping down on Itachi's throat with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed in violent arcs, painting the waterlogged street in crimson streaks. Itachi's body jerked, his mouth opening as if to cry out, but no sound came—only the wet gurgle of blood as it poured down his chest.
His Sharingan dimmed, the vibrant crimson of his eyes fading into dull embers as his body crumpled. The Totsuka Blade remained buried in Kisame's chest, its glow flickering as the sealing process continued. Both men collapsed into the water, their bodies side by side, stark against the chaotic remnants of the battlefield.
Kisame's form dissolved further, the liquid consuming him inch by inch, but his head tilted slightly, his gaze meeting Itachi's fading eyes. "Itachi-san," he rasped, his voice weaker now but still laced with a grim humor. "I always knew it would come to this. Betrayal's a funny thing, isn't it? I didn't trust you… and you didn't trust me. But maybe that's why we made such a good team."
Itachi's lips moved, his voice barely audible, a whisper carried by the dying echoes of the battle. "We understood each other. That was enough."
Kisame chuckled weakly, a sound more like a sigh, his sharp teeth stained with blood. "Yeah… that was enough," he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the darkened sky. "Guess I'll be seeing Samehada soon. Funny, isn't it? A monster like me… feeling lonely without a sword."
The sealing liquid reached his chest, creeping up to his neck as his body began to fade entirely. His eyes closed, his voice fading to a whisper. "Not the worst way to go," he muttered, and then Kisame Hoshigaki was gone, sealed within the Totsuka Blade's gourd.
The battlefield fell silent. The vortex of sharks dissipated, the storm settling into an eerie stillness. The floodwaters lapped softly against the rubble, a haunting contrast to the chaos that had raged moments before.
The Totsuka Blade slipped from Itachi's lifeless hands, its glow fading as it vanished, sealing the gourd shut. Itachi's body floated in the water, pale and still, blood pooling around him in soft ripples. His eyes remained closed, his expression serene, as though he had accepted his end long before it came.
From the rooftop, Hinata watched, her chest tightening painfully at the sight below. Her heart ached—not just for Itachi, but for the story that lay between him and Kisame. Two warriors who had walked the same path, bound by necessity but divided by mistrust. In the end, they had destroyed each other, their lives reduced to echoes of violence and sacrifice.
Itachi had fulfilled his mission, protecting Naruto and halting Kisame's rampage. But the cost was steep—another chapter of sorrow in a life defined by sacrifice. As the water stilled and the battlefield faded into memory, the weight of their mutual destruction hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the fragility of loyalty and the inevitability of betrayal.
Hinata couldn't look away. For all his cruelty, for all the pain he had caused, Itachi's final moments revealed a man burdened by choices no one should ever have to make—a man who had forged bonds even in the shadows of betrayal.
She pushed herself off Naruto, trying to stand on her own two feet, but her legs buckled almost immediately. She stumbled, and Naruto caught her before she fell.
"Whoa, hold on there!" he said, slinging her arm over his shoulder to help her steady herself. She groaned, frustrated at her own weakness, and pointed shakily ahead. Her mouth moved to form words, but without her hearing, it came out as a garbled sound.
"You want to go over there?" Naruto asked, reading her gestures and looking at her face. When Hinata nodded, he sighed. "Alright then." He adjusted his grip and helped her limp forward, his concern evident despite his calm exterior.
The two of them approached Itachi's still body. The waterlogged street was silent except for the faint lapping of water against the rubble. They stopped over the corpse of the man who had, against all odds, saved their lives at the cost of his own.
Naruto looked down at Itachi, his expression unreadable. "This was Sasuke's brother, wasn't it?" he asked, glancing at Hinata. She nodded, her eyes fixed on Itachi's lifeless form.
"Why did he help us?" Naruto muttered. When Hinata shook her head, indicating she didn't know, he frowned and fell silent. For several long moments, he stared at the man who had caused so much pain for Sasuke and Konoha yet had somehow chosen to protect them tonight.
His thoughts churned in confusion. Itachi's actions didn't make sense. He was the villain of Sasuke's life, the man responsible for the Uchiha clan's destruction. Yet here he lay, having fought and died for them. Naruto couldn't reconcile the conflicting images of Itachi in his mind.
"It's over, then?" Kiba's voice broke the silence as he jogged up to join them, cradling Akamaru in his arms. The puppy had reverted to his smaller form, and both of them bore the marks of Kisame's earlier blows. Despite the injuries, Kiba's tone was steady, though tinged with exhaustion.
"Looks that way," Naruto replied with a shrug, his voice quieter than usual. He turned to Kiba, glancing around. "Where's Shino?"
"I can smell him coming back," Kiba replied, sniffing the air. "And he's not alone. Four others with him. ANBU, judging by the scent of their cloaks."
Hinata, still leaning on Naruto for support, channeled her Nichiren Byakugan and scanned the area. Sure enough, Shino was approaching with a group of ANBU operatives in tow. It had been part of her plan from the beginning: They were still in the Land of Fire and as such there had to be Konoha Shinobi somewhere nearby. And Shino had the best chance of finding those nearby Konoha Shinobi and alerting them to the situation. Still, the battle had ended faster than anyone anticipated, as was often the case in fights between true elites.
Moments later, Shino and the ANBU arrived. The masked Shinobi spread out, some securing the area while others moved directly to Itachi's body. One of them, a woman with long purple hair and a familiar presence even behind the mask, approached Hinata's team.
"I don't believe it," the woman whispered, her voice filled with disbelief as her gaze landed on Itachi's corpse. "It really is him…"
Her focus shifted to the others of their team. Her sharp eyes assessed their injuries and the wreckage around them, lingering on Hinata's bloodied form and Naruto's steadying grip. "We need to debrief you immediately. Every detail of what happened is critical. This is… monumental for Konoha."
Without waiting for permission, the ANBU began pulling each team member aside for questioning. The leader, who introduced herself as Yugao, started with Kiba. Naruto and Hinata watched as he was led away, his voice carrying faintly as he recounted what he knew.
Naruto turned to Hinata. "Hey, you good? I mean… do you think you can talk to them?"
Hinata nodded, but her hearing was still patchy, only getting by so far by reading lips.
So she focused on healing as the others were interviewed first. By staying completely still and allowing the natural energy to flow through her, she coaxed her body into a fragile semblance of normalcy. Her hearing slowly returned, the persistent ringing fading into a faint hum by the time it was her turn to speak. She still felt slightly off, her voice louder than intended when she tested it, but at least she could communicate again. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.
"Tell me exactly what happened," said the woman who had introduced herself as Yugao. Her tone was calm but firm, the kind of voice that left no room for embellishment or evasion.
Hinata nodded, glancing briefly at her teammates as Yugao led her a few steps away, out of earshot. Itachi's body, draped in solemn silence, was being prepared for transport alongside the remains of Samehada. The sight made her stomach twist, but she forced herself to focus.
So, she told Yugao the story. Not the truth—no one would believe that. Instead, she wove a tale that fit the evidence her teammates had witnessed. Itachi and Kisame had entered the room, and without warning, Itachi had turned on his partner. The ensuing fight had been chaotic, and Hinata had managed to assist with a strategy that led to their mutual destruction.
When asked how she knew they were there for Naruto, she added, "Itachi whispered it to me when they entered. That's all he said."
Yugao's violet eyes, faintly visible through the slits of her mask, studied her for a long moment. Hinata held her breath, bracing for skepticism or probing questions, but the woman simply nodded. "I see." She sighed, her tone weary. "You handled yourself well, considering the circumstances."
Hinata's shoulders relaxed slightly, though her chest remained tight. Of course Yugao believed her—because the truth was too absurd. She could hardly explain the Tsukuyomi, Kali's intervention, or the bargain struck with Itachi. That reality was too tangled in impossibility to ever be spoken aloud.
"What happens now?" Hinata asked, her voice louder than she intended. The residual ringing in her ears made it hard to regulate her tone.
"That depends on you." Yugao's gaze flicked to Hinata's vest, her words carrying more weight than before. "As the leader, the decision is yours. If you want, we can arrange for another team to take over your mission. After what you kids went through, no one would blame you. You could use a well-earned rest. Or… you can continue as planned. None of you sustained injuries severe enough for a mandatory withdrawal."
Hinata didn't hesitate. "We'll continue."
The resolve in her voice surprised even her. The mission wasn't just important—it was something only her team could do. The scroll's contents were sacred and restricted, and she bore the burden of protecting its knowledge. She didn't elaborate on that, though. It was enough for Yugao to hear her determination.
"Thatta girl," Yugao said with a faint chuckle, stepping forward to thump her on the shoulder. Hinata flinched at the unexpected gesture, and could almost feel the approving smile beneath Yugao's mask. "What you did today? Hella reckless. Those guys could have killed you with a single look. But reckless or not, you got your team through it."
Hinata looked down, her hands tightening at her sides. She didn't feel like she'd done anything worth praising. She thought of Itachi's words, his desperation, the weight of his final moments. She thought of the terror she had felt—the moments where she had been sure she would fail.
"You prioritized civilian lives," Yugao continued, her voice softening. "And you were smart enough to call for backup. That's leadership, kid. Konoha could use more leaders with guts like you."
Hinata's breath caught, and she shook her head quickly. "N-no, I…" She struggled to find the words to refute the praise. "Don't be modest," Yugao said with a note of finality, straightening. "I'll talk to the Hokage myself. You didn't technically kill either of them, but you and your team deserve partial credit for the bounties. You earned it."
Misunderstandings seemed to be piling up since the tournament, and now this? She knew the story of what happened here would reach Konoha—it had to. But the thought of being credited for the deaths of two S-rank Nukenin felt… wrong.
She didn't have a chance to protest further, Yugao turning and signaling her team. The ANBU disappeared seconds later, Itachi's body and Samehada vanishing with them, leaving only the remnants of the battlefield and the destruction they had survived.
Hinata stood motionless, the weight of Yugao's words pressing on her. Her chest felt hollow, the praise ringing in her ears alongside the lingering hum of battle. She didn't feel like a leader. She didn't feel like a hero. But as she looked at the shattered landscape, her injured teammates in the distance, and the faint glimmer of the moon above, she knew one thing for certain.
The mission wasn't over.
Their first day was done.
The hardest days were still ahead.
Birth of a Hokage
Far below Konoha, in the deepest dungeon, Itachi's body was laid to rest.
The room was damp, a chill seeping from the crumbling stone walls. It was barely larger than a storage closet, with a single table at its center. A flickering fluorescent bulb hung precariously from the ceiling, casting uneven light that left half the room in shadow. The walls, slick with moisture, were mottled with patches of mold that crawled like a slow, invasive disease. Insects skittered in and out of the cracks in the brickwork, their tiny movements the only sound in the oppressive silence.
On the table, Itachi's body had been unceremoniously thrown. His Akatsuki cloak was still draped loosely over his shoulders, stained with blood and water from the battle. His pale face, so often stoic and unreadable in life, was now frozen in an eerie stillness, devoid of the fire that once burned behind his Sharingan. There was no reverence in how he was handled; the transporters had regarded him as no more than a burden to be delivered.
Yugao stepped back from the table, her masked face unreadable as she assessed the scene. Her ANBU team stood silently around her, their presence a reminder that even in death, Uchiha Itachi was a figure to be feared and watched.
"Good work, everyone," Yugao said, her voice calm but tinged with fatigue. "Now let's go report to Lord Hokage." She turned toward the door but stopped abruptly as a shadow appeared in the entrance.
"No need for that," came a deep, measured voice.
Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Sandaime Hokage, stepped into the room. His silhouette was framed by the dim light from the hallway, and as he stepped closer, the faint smell of tobacco from his pipe mingled with the damp, musty air. The ANBU immediately dropped to their knees, inclining their heads in respect.
"You've all done well today," Hiruzen said, his tone kind but firm. "Why don't you go up and get some rest?" He took a slow puff from his pipe, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled into the stagnant air. Despite the warmth in his words, there was an unmistakable weight to his presence. He hadn't come here in any official capacity—that much was clear.
The ANBU hesitated only briefly before standing and filing out of the room. Yugao lingered, her instincts urging her to speak. But something caught her eye before she could find the words.
"Sir…" she began, her voice uncertain. "Is that a crow on your shoulder?"
Perched on the Hokage's left shoulder, barely visible in the dim light, was indeed a crow. Its feathers were sleek and jet-black, its sharp beak glinting faintly. It sat unnaturally still, one of its dark eyes turned toward Yugao.
"Yes, it is," Hiruzen replied, his voice even. He reached up and gently stroked the bird's head with two fingers, eliciting a low croak. "It belonged to Itachi. You could say it's how I knew he had finally fallen."
Yugao's eyes narrowed beneath her mask, her suspicion growing. The crow let out a piercing squawk, a sound that reverberated through the small room like a cry of mourning. "I see," she said slowly, though the explanation felt incomplete. Her gaze shifted to the body on the table. "Sir… Itachi fell attempting to defend the Jinchūriki. Why would a traitor like him do something for the good of the village?"
Hiruzen paused, taking a long pull from his pipe before exhaling thoughtfully. The smoke curled around him, its tendrils clinging to the damp air like a shroud. "You don't need to concern yourself with that," he said finally, stepping closer to her. His voice was calm, almost soothing, but there was an undercurrent of something sharper—something final. "You've done your duty, Yugao. You're tired. Go get some rest, leave your report on my desk. And forget those troubling thoughts."
As he spoke, the crow shifted. It turned its head, and for the first time, its other eye was visible. Yugao's breath caught. The bird's eye wasn't normal—it was a Sharingan, spinning faintly as if alive. The crimson gleam of the eye burned into her vision, and for a moment, her instincts screamed at her to act. To say something.
But the thought evaporated as quickly as it had come. The Sharingan's glow seemed to vanish, its presence slipping from her awareness entirely. Yugao blinked, her brow furrowing as if she had forgotten what she had just seen.
"Sir, of course," she murmured, her voice dull and compliant. "I'll… leave my report and get some rest."
"Good," Hiruzen said, his hand still resting lightly on her shoulder. "You've done enough for today."
Yugao nodded and turned to leave, her steps slow and deliberate as if she were walking in a dream. The heavy metal door creaked as she closed it behind her, the sound of the latch clicking into place punctuating her departure.
Inside the room, silence returned. Hiruzen stood alone with the crow and the lifeless body of Uchiha Itachi. He glanced down at the body, his gaze unreadable, and stroked the crow's feathers once more. The bird let out a low croak, its red eye gleaming faintly in the flickering light.
"You can wake up now, Itachi," he said softly, his voice calm but weighted with purpose.
For a moment, there was no response. Then, Itachi's chest rose with a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes opened slowly, the right revealing the unmistakable glow of the Sharingan, while the left was dim and lifeless. He sat up with deliberate movements, his hand instinctively rubbing at his throat, as if to confirm it was whole.
"A painful death?" Hiruzen asked, a faint trace of humor threading his voice.
"Far from pleasant, even with Izanagi," Itachi replied hoarsely. His voice, though quiet, was steady despite the ordeal he had just endured. Hiruzen passed him a bottle of water, which he accepted without a word. Half the contents disappeared in a single gulp, his parched throat greedily accepting the reprieve.
As Itachi lowered the bottle, his attention shifted to the crow perched on Hiruzen's shoulder. With a raised arm, he beckoned the bird, and it flew to him without hesitation, landing lightly on his forearm. Its crimson Sharingan eye fixed him with a sharp, almost expectant gaze.
With grim resolve, Itachi reached up and plucked his blind left eye from its socket. Blood welled, running down his pale face, but he didn't flinch. Without hesitation, he gripped the crow's head and yanked its glowing Sharingan from its socket, ignoring the bird's startled squawk. The act was swift and clinical, and the crow collapsed, its lifeless body tumbling to the floor. Within seconds, it was swarmed by insects crawling out from the cracks in the walls, their tiny legs skittering across the stone.
Hiruzen watched the entire process with thinly veiled distaste. "I wish you'd used medical equipment for that," he muttered, his expression hardening as he watched Itachi press the bloodied Sharingan into his empty socket.
"It's fine," Itachi hissed, his voice tight with pain. Using a basic medical ninjutsu, he knit the surrounding tissue together, the glow of his chakra steady and precise. After several long seconds, he blinked, his vision adjusting to the unfamiliar eye. His movements were methodical, but his breathing betrayed the agony he suppressed.
Finally, he turned to a piece of shattered glass on the table, catching his reflection. Pulling his forehead protector away, he stared directly at the curse mark etched into his skin. The intricate pattern, reminiscent of the Hyūga clan's Caged Bird seal, remained as vivid as ever. Izanagi may have undone his death, but it had done nothing to erase the mark.
Just to be sure, he focused his chakra. His right eye remained the standard Sharingan; the Mangekyō's powers were sealed, just as he feared. But as he activated the left, something unexpected happened. The Sharingan spun into the Mangekyō, but it was unlike Shisui's or his own. It was a perfect fusion of the two: Shisui's four-pronged shuriken intertwined with Itachi's three-pronged design, creating a seven-pointed emblem that radiated power.
Itachi blinked again, his breath catching in his throat. An Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. The realization struck him with an almost disorienting force. He had known such a fusion was theoretically possible, but this… this was beyond what he had anticipated.
Hiruzen, who had been watching silently, finally broke the tension. "What is that mark?" he asked, his voice steady but curious. "It almost looks like the Hyūga's…"
"The Hyūga girl put it on me," Itachi said curtly, his gaze still fixed on his reflection. "It's why all of this became necessary."
"Hinata?" Hiruzen asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, not her." Itachi shook his head. "Kali."
Hiruzen's expression shifted, the name clearly unfamiliar. "Kali?" he repeated, his tone skeptical. "I've never heard of anyone by that name."
That admission gave Itachi pause. His Sharingan spun lazily as he turned this information over in his mind. "You don't know?" he muttered, more to himself than to the Hokage. "Could it be a secret known only to the Hyūga…?" He trailed off, his thoughts racing. The mystery surrounding Kali deepened, and Itachi resolved to uncover the truth.
His gaze flicked down to the table, where the Totsuka Blade's sake gourd still rested. His bargain with Kali and Hinata echoed in his mind. Though he hadn't told them how he planned to survive, he suspected Kali had already deduced it. Hinata, however… She was different. He hadn't expected much from her. Until she had killed Samehada that is—a feat he hadn't thought possible—the act catching him completely off guard. She was someone to watch, someone with potential.
"Hyūga Hinata," Itachi murmured, almost absently. The name carried a weight now, a significance he hadn't anticipated. She had been pivotal in today's events, and her growth bore watching. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: she might one day become something extraordinary.
But for now, he turned his focus back to his reflection, his new Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan staring back at him. His plans would have to change, and the path ahead was uncertain. Yet as the dim light flickered above him, casting eerie shadows across the damp room, Itachi allowed himself a rare moment of resolve.
He had survived. And as long as he breathed, he would see his mission through to the end.
The silence of the room was broken by Hiruzen's steady voice, his tone carrying the weight of the decision he was about to enforce.
"Moving on, Itachi." The Hokage gestured to a mask on the table, picking it up and handing it over. "There is much to do. Things in Konoha are not well, as I'm sure you know."
Itachi nodded, his expression unreadable as he accepted the mask. He had heard rumors of the village's instability following Orochimaru's invasion. The chaos had been why he and Kisame had initially been sent to Konoha—to exploit the village's weakened defenses and secure Naruto for the Akatsuki. That plan had ultimately unraveled, but Itachi knew the lingering turmoil was far from over.
"Danzo is using the invasion as an excuse to make another power grab," Hiruzen said, his voice sharp with disdain.
Itachi's thoughts froze. The mention of that name pierced through his composed exterior, his carefully measured calm momentarily slipping. His voice was quiet but laced with a tension he couldn't quite suppress.
"Danzo?"
"That's right." Hiruzen nodded grimly. "He's using my failure to stop Orochimaru earlier as leverage to call my leadership into question. He's positioning himself as the answer to the village's vulnerability, seeking to take the mantle of Hokage for himself." The Hokage's brow furrowed, his next words almost a muttered afterthought. "Never mind the fact that he probably had a hand in the invasion to begin with."
The fire in Hiruzen's tone was rare, but Itachi caught it instantly. He wasn't used to seeing the Third Hokage this openly bitter, but the disdain for Danzo was unmistakable. Itachi closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. His mind churned as he considered the implications. Danzo in power was a threat not only to the village but also to Sasuke.
Danzo couldn't be allowed to succeed.
"I see," Itachi murmured, his tone measured again. The weight of his mission was growing heavier with each passing moment. He would have to put the mystery of Kali—and even his own growing list of personal inquiries—on hold. Stopping Danzo was now a priority.
Hiruzen's gaze remained on Itachi, sharp and unyielding. "You'll wear that mask from now on," he said, gesturing to the smooth, unmarked white mask. Itachi held it in his hands, turning it over, noting the simplicity of its design—two narrow slits for eyes, otherwise featureless. Yet as he examined it, he felt something faint but unmistakable emanating from it.
"What is this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. The mask, despite its plain appearance, carried an air of subtle but potent power.
"It's an old relic from the Uzumaki clan shrine," Hiruzen explained. "This particular artifact is known as the Mumen Mask. It doesn't make you invisible in the literal sense, but rather imperceptible. Those around you won't take notice of your presence unless you actively draw attention to yourself. A simple but powerful tool for remaining unseen."
Hiruzen handed him a black cloak next, its material heavy and finely woven. Itachi slipped it over his shoulders, finding it remarkably familiar. The cut and weight were similar to his Akatsuki robe, though without the iconic red clouds.
Itachi nodded. "This will be useful," he said, the faintest flicker of appreciation crossing his face. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why such a tool had been left unused in the depths of an abandoned shrine. And if this mask held such power, what else might the other masks hidden there contain? He made a mental note to investigate further when time allowed.
"Indeed," Hiruzen agreed. "No one should even notice you standing behind me, even in the most public settings. To all who enter my office, you will be nothing more than a faceless guard, tasked with protecting the Hokage. The mask's power, combined with your skills, will ensure their perception of you remains as intended: nonexistent."
Itachi considered the implications. The mask would render him effectively invisible, allowing him to operate freely within the Hokage's presence. And if anyone did notice or suspect him, he still had the Kotoamatsukami at his disposal—a failsafe to erase any lingering doubts.
Hiruzen's voice grew firmer. "However, you are no mere guard, Itachi. This role is not just about protection. This is about ensuring the stability of Konoha."
The room seemed to grow colder as the truth of Hiruzen's words settled between them. Itachi's fingers tightened slightly around the mask as he realized the enormity of what the Hokage was proposing.
"You will stand behind me, unseen but ever present," Hiruzen continued. "While I may wear the robes of the Hokage, the decisions—the true leadership of this village—will be yours. You are the one who will ensure Konoha's safety, Itachi. In the shadows, you will guide it."
Itachi stared at the mask, its blank, unyielding surface reflecting nothing but his own gaze. He understood now. This was the culmination of everything he had endured, the logical next step in his silent sacrifice. The mask was more than a tool; it was a symbol. From this moment forward, he would no longer exist as Uchiha Itachi. He would be a nameless, faceless entity, his identity consumed by his mission.
Hiruzen spoke the final words with quiet conviction, solidifying the pact between them.
"Uchiha Itachi, you are now the true Hokage."
Itachi's grip on the mask tightened as he placed it over his face. The world blurred briefly, then sharpened, the eye slits giving him a strangely altered perspective. The mask's power was immediate—he could already feel himself slipping into the background, becoming less tangible to the senses.
No one would see him. No one would know him. But he would see everything.
"It will be done," Itachi said simply, his voice calm, resolute.
For his brother. For Konoha. For the future.
Chapter End
AN: In Canon, we saw a bunch of masks at that shrine, so I thought it would be cool if more of them had abilities. This one was called Mumen（無面）which means No-face. I might use more of the masks later in the story, but I'm not sure yet.
In addition to that, I made things like the Totsuka Blade and the other relics Itachi has actual physical artifacts that he collected, and just used to enchant his Susanoo. Those will come up later as well, so please look forward to it.