Hinata of the White Lotus
Itachi vs Danzo
Danzo moved through the labyrinthine corridors beneath Konoha, his cane tapping against the uneven brick floor with a deliberate, steady rhythm. The air here was damp and stale, a suffocating reminder of the village's foundations—dark, unyielding, and built on secrets. On either side of him, two Root operatives flanked him like shadows, their movements silent but purposeful. The faint echo of their footsteps was swallowed by the oppressive narrowness of the hallway, which seemed to press in on them from all sides. The corridor was no wider than a meter across, the ceiling so low it grazed the heads of the taller guard.
The darkness was nearly absolute, broken only by dim streaks of water running down the mossy walls, reflecting faint glimmers from chakra-powered torches far behind them. It was a fitting place for Danzo to retreat, a man who had always thrived in the shadows. Yet tonight, those shadows felt like they were turning against him.
The muffled sounds of distant combat echoed faintly from above. His men were dying for him, sacrificing themselves to buy him time to escape. The thought did not trouble him—this was the cost of maintaining power. Yet his carefully constructed plans had unraveled, and the thought that Uchiha Itachi had orchestrated this debacle gnawed at him. Kotoamatsukami, he thought grimly. There was no other explanation for why Hiruzen would finally muster the courage to attack Root. Itachi must have pushed him to it, using the power of Shisui's eye to manipulate the Hokage.
Danzo's lips tightened. Itachi was a threat to everything. The boy had been a problem from the moment he defected to the Akatsuki, but now he had turned his cunning and power against Konoha itself—or so Danzo believed. Itachi's presence undermined everything Root represented. If left unchecked, he would be the death of the village.
Danzo's fingers brushed the bandages covering his face, the eye hidden beneath a secret he could no longer afford to keep. Shisui's Sharingan was his ace, but only if he had time to prepare it.
The first sound came softly—a faint, imperceptible squawk, distant and hollow. In the stifling silence of the hallway, it echoed like a predator's warning. Danzo's sharp ears caught it immediately. Paranoia? No, he dismissed the thought. This was real. It was him.
From deep within the shadowed corridor ahead, footsteps began to echo. Slow, deliberate, unhurried. Each step seemed louder than the last, reverberating off the close walls and mingling with the oppressive humidity. Danzo's guards shifted uneasily.
"Sir?" one of them asked, his voice trembling slightly despite the mask. Danzo silenced him with a glare, his focus entirely on the rhythmic footfalls. Itachi. It had to be.
Danzo's voice cut through the suffocating stillness of the chamber, cold and absolute. "Both of you—stand in front of me." The echo of his words bounced off the damp brick walls, sharp as steel. He drove his cane into a crack in the floor with a deliberate clack, the sound reverberating like the snap of a trap being set.
His remaining hand, aged and weathered but steady, rose toward the bandages that obscured Shisui's eye. The air thickened as he began to peel away the layers of cloth, each slow unraveling tightening the tension like a coiled wire ready to snap. Beneath the wrappings, the faintest flicker of crimson glowed, the Sharingan stirring as if it hungered for release.
"I need time to prepare my eyes." His words were calm, yet the weight behind them was suffocating. There was no room for hesitation, no allowance for error. He couldn't afford to fight half-blind—not against an opponent like Itachi. Not when the man who wielded the other eye stood on the other side of this confrontation. Any delay, any misstep, could mean death.
"Yes, sir!" The two operatives moved instantly, stepping in front of him without the slightest hesitation. They were shields—disposable and willing. Their movements were crisp, mechanical, yet there was no trace of doubt in their eyes. Only purpose.
Danzo's gaze flickered to them, his face betraying nothing, but his thoughts churned. These weren't mindless pawns controlled by genjutsu. No illusions bound their will. This was something far more unsettling—indoctrination carved into their very souls. He had taken them as children, molding them like clay, stripping away weakness and forging them into perfect weapons.
They didn't hesitate because they couldn't. His voice wasn't a command; it was gospel. His will wasn't a suggestion; it was truth.
And now they would die for it.
Danzo knew it as surely as they did. But not one of them flinched.
The younger of the two, his jaw set in determination, braced his body, already scanning the shadows. His hands hovered near his kunai pouch, veins in his neck taut as he prepared for the inevitable strike. The older operative merely exhaled, a deep and practiced breath that steadied his heartbeat.
Danzo allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction. Perfect soldiers. No tears. No regrets. Only the mission.
The final bandage fell away, and Shisui's Sharingan burned to life, its crimson glow illuminating the dim chamber with an almost malevolent light. Danzo felt its power stir within him, raw and untamed, yet leashed by his iron discipline.
The tension in the room reached a breaking point. Somewhere in the distance, faint footsteps echoed closer—deliberate, measured. Itachi was coming.
Danzo tightened his grip on his cane, his voice a low growl as he issued his final command. "Hold the line."
The two soldiers didn't even nod. They stepped forward, their bodies already shifting into defensive stances. They knew what this meant. They knew what their deaths would buy.
And Danzo, for the first time in years, felt the faintest flicker of unease.
A pair of crimson eyes flared into existence in the darkness ahead, glowing faintly against the void. The Sharingan's tomoe swirled lazily, their hypnotic movement both mesmerizing and terrifying. The guards stiffened, their bodies taut with tension. Fear rippled through the narrow corridor like a tangible force.
And then chaos erupted.
The guards acted on instinct, their nerves snapping under the weight of Itachi's approach. Shuriken flew from their hands in a blur, the clattering projectiles ricocheting off the brick walls and vanishing into the void. Sparks flew, the narrow space briefly illuminated by flashes of metal striking stone. The glowing eyes shimmered and then disappeared, dissolving like smoke.
"Genjutsu," Danzo muttered, his teeth clenched. The familiar squawk of crows followed, building into an overwhelming cacophony as dozens—no, hundreds—of black birds erupted from the darkness. Their cries echoed violently in the confined space, a deafening symphony of chaos that drowned out all other sound. The flapping of wings blurred into a suffocating roar as the murder descended upon the two guards.
"Damn birds!" one of the guards shouted, his voice strained as he swung his kunai wildly. His partner joined him, both men slashing at the mass of crows, their blades cutting down bird after bird. Blood splattered against the walls, pooling at their feet as lifeless bodies fell with sickening thuds.
But for every crow they struck, more seemed to appear, their black forms indistinguishable from the shadows themselves.
Danzo's hand worked furiously as he turned his attention to his right arm, beginning the laborious process of unscrewing the brace that contained its grotesque modifications. The screws were cumbersome, his fingers fumbling slightly as the noise around him escalated.
Then, like a blade slicing through the cacophony, a single word echoed through the hall:
"Amaterasu."
The guards' screams followed immediately, a sound of raw, unimaginable agony that sent a chill through even Danzo's cold heart. The narrow hallway was bathed in an oppressive heat as the black flames of Amaterasu ignited, swallowing the two men whole.
The heat was suffocating, licking at his skin even from several meters away. He didn't look away. He couldn't. To avert his gaze would be to dishonor the men who had given their lives for him.
Their screams subsided quickly, replaced by the eerie crackle of the inextinguishable black fire. The corridor was deathly silent once more, save for the faint hiss of flames devouring their prey. The crows had vanished as if they'd never been there, and the darkness seemed even heavier now, oppressive and absolute.
Danzo exhaled slowly, his hand still gripping the first of the screws pulled free from his brace. Itachi was here, his presence a shadow that threatened to consume everything. But Danzo would not falter. He had not survived this long by yielding to fear.
Danzo's hands trembled as he worked the second screw loose from the brace encasing his right arm. The metallic clang echoed in the narrow, suffocating hallway, mingling with the crackle of Amaterasu's unrelenting flames. The oppressive heat and darkness pressed against him, each passing moment a reminder that his options were dwindling. He had to stall, to buy time for the last four screws, for the power his arm contained.
"You think you're doing what's best for the village, Itachi?" Danzo's voice cut through the stillness, rough and biting. His one good eye glared into the black void beyond the flames, where he knew Itachi lingered. "You? The one who slaughtered his entire clan, who betrayed his own blood for the sake of the village's stability? You've made yourself a ghost—hated by your only living family, hunted by the very organization you joined to protect Konoha. There is no place for you here, or anywhere else for that matter."
Silence answered him, stretching uncomfortably long. Danzo's fingers fumbled slightly on the third screw, his old hands shaking as he twisted the mechanism. He clenched his jaw to steady himself, gritting his teeth against the growing weight of Itachi's absence of response. The waiting was a battle in itself.
Finally, a voice emerged from the void, calm and deliberate. "The village needs to move forward, Danzo," Itachi said, his words carrying a measured disdain. "Lord Third understood that when he chose Namikaze Minato to lead. He saw the future clearly, unclouded by the old ways. But as long as Sarutobi Hiruzen had you whispering in his ear, my clan was doomed. You made sure of that."
Danzo's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You think that was my doing?" he said as the third screw dropped with a metallic thunk to the floor. "You regret what you did to your clan, so you've created this fantasy where it's all someone else's fault. That's weakness, Itachi. Your ideals are an illusion, no better than the genjutsu you've built your reputation on."
Across the flames, Itachi appeared as if from nowhere, stepping into view with the same unshakable calm that had made him legendary. His eyes burned with crimson intensity, the left transformed into the seven-pronged eternal Mangekyō Sharingan he had gained by merging his power with Shisui's.
"My eyes are no longer blind to the truth," Itachi replied, his tone devoid of anger yet filled with certainty. "This village's strength lies in the future, not in the hands of those like you who cling to outdated notions of what shinobi must be. You were never protecting Konoha. You were protecting yourself."
Danzo's fingers moved faster now, the fourth screw finally coming loose. "Do you know what kept this village alive all these years?" he spat. "Men like me. We made the hard decisions while people like you lived in denial, pretending to be innocent while wielding a blade in the shadows. If not for me, Konoha would've fallen long ago. You'll see that soon enough. Your path will burn everything down, just like those flames of yours."
The fifth screw hit the ground with a final metallic clang. Danzo exhaled shakily, his left hand reaching to steady the brace. He was one step away from unleashing the full power of his stolen Sharingan arm. His voice was quieter now, tinged with bitterness. "You've always been alone, Itachi. No allies, no family, no brother to stand by your side. You are nothing more than a ghost chasing redemption."
Itachi's eyes flickered briefly with something unspoken—resolve, perhaps. "You're wrong. I have allies," he said simply. "One of them may seem small to you, but she's someone I trust. Someone who will protect what matters. That's why I've entrusted my brother to her."
Danzo froze. His mind raced as he pieced together the implications. "Hyūga Hinata," he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief. Itachi had faked his death against her. She knew. She had been part of this from the beginning. He felt a cold fury rising in his chest. So, this was another thread in the tapestry of Itachi's plans. Another unseen hand guiding events behind the scenes.
But he pushed the thought aside. He would deal with her later.
The final screw came loose. The brace clattered to the floor with a loud crash, revealing the grotesque arm beneath. Pale and unnatural, it was a patchwork of Hashirama's cells and Orochimaru's experiments. Embedded along its length were numerous Sharingan, their dormant tomoe swirling faintly as if hungering for activation.
Danzo smirked triumphantly. "Now, we fight on equal footing," he declared, raising his arm—
And then it was gone.
The severed limb lay at his feet, the golden brace still attached. Danzo's breath caught in his throat as a sharp, phantom pain tore through him. He staggered, gripping the wooden stump where his arm had been. No blood spilled from the wound—it was a clean break, the wooden fibers of Hashirama's cells exposed like the rings of a felled tree.
"It's… gone…" he stammered, disbelief flooding his voice. He stared at the severed arm as his mind struggled to process what had happened.
The figure of Itachi before him broke apart into a murder of crows, each one cawing mockingly as they scattered into the darkness. It had been an illusion all along, a perfectly executed genjutsu. Danzo had been outplayed before the battle had even begun. His Sharingan eye had failed to see through it—because, deep down, it wasn't his eye to wield.
"You never understood the power you tried to steal," came Itachi's voice from behind him, low and unwavering.
Danzo turned, his mismatched eyes wide with horror. Itachi stepped into view once more, his crimson Sharingan glowing against the oppressive black. In his hand was the Totsuka Blade, its almost ethereal, blood-red glow casting strange shadows along the narrow walls. At his hip hung the gourd that would seal his enemies in an eternal genjutsu—a fate worse than death.
"You took my brother," Itachi continued, his voice as sharp as the blade in his hand. "You tore apart everything I fought to protect, and you justified it all in the name of power. But now, Danzo, your sins have caught up with you."
Danzo fell to his knees, the weight of defeat pressing down on him. "What… what did I do wrong?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Why wasn't I chosen? Why wasn't I enough?"
Itachi raised the Totsuka Blade, the edge glinting ominously in the dim light. "Because this village needs more than shadows. It needs light," he said, his tone final.
The blade descended.
It was a blur of crimson light as it arced downward, poised to end Danzo's schemes once and for all. But before the Totsuka Blade could strike, the air behind Itachi distorted violently, swirling like water dragged into a whirlpool. The oppressive atmosphere of the underground chamber seemed to fold in on itself, the sudden shift disrupting even the unnatural silence of their confrontation.
Danzo's single visible eye widened as he caught sight of the disturbance. Then, to Itachi's dismay, the old war hawk smirked through his pain. "No, Itachi," Danzo said, his voice weak yet filled with grim satisfaction. "Your sins aren't as far behind you as you seem to think."
Before Itachi could react, the whirlpool solidified, and Tobi materialized between them. His orange mask and swirling pattern matched the chaos of his entrance, his jovial tone at odds with the tension in the air.
"Yaa hoo!" Tobi sang, placing one gloved hand on Danzo's shoulder and the other on Itachi's. "Fasten your seatbelts, gentlemen! Hands and feet inside the ride at all times!"
There was no time to question, no time to strike. Itachi moved instinctively, the Totsuka Blade slicing downward toward both figures. But before the blade could connect, the world fractured like glass, and they were gone.
One moment, Itachi stood in the suffocating dark depths of Root's lair, his blade aimed to deliver justice. The next, the world exploded into vibrant color, light, and sound.
They had been transported to the heart of Konoha's sprawling shopping arcade. Brightly colored paper lanterns hung from the high ceilings, their warm glow bathing the area in soft hues of red, orange, and gold. The air was filled with the scent of sizzling food from bustling street vendors, mingling with the earthy aroma of fresh tea and the faint tang of sake wafting from nearby bars. Shops and stalls lined either side of the walkway, offering everything from handcrafted goods to exotic spices. Civilians meandered between them, laughter and chatter creating a tapestry of life and joy.
Itachi's senses were momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer normalcy of the scene. This wasn't a battlefield. This was the beating heart of Konoha's civilian life—a space of joy and community, untouched by the shadows of war.
But then he looked down. Danzo sat at his feet, slumped and cradling the stump where his grotesque arm had once been. Tobi was gone, his disappearance as sudden as his arrival. But he had done what he intended: Itachi and Danzo were left here, exposed.
At first, no one noticed them. The crowd continued to bustle around, oblivious to the two shinobi who had just materialized in their midst. A pair of children raced by, laughing as they chased each other, their sandals clapping against the stone. A woman called after them, scolding them gently, but her words trailed off as her eyes landed on the two figures in the middle of the path.
"Who…?" Her voice faltered, and she clutched her shopping bag closer.
Then more heads turned. Conversations faltered, the lively hum of the arcade slowing to a confused murmur. The sight of Danzo, wounded and vulnerable, might have been alarming enough. But it was the man standing over him that drew the crowd's collective breath.
A low murmur rippled through the growing audience.
"Is that…?"
"No, it can't be. He's dead!"
"But that's Uchiha Itachi! The traitor! The murderer!"
The words spread like wildfire. Fear crept into the air, the crowd beginning to pull back as realization dawned. People recognized him—the ghost of the Uchiha clan's destruction, the man who had slaughtered his own family and then died a rogue.
"Itachi…? But he's supposed to be—"
"Dead," a shinobi interrupted, their voice trembling.
The crowd's unease gave way to panic. Civilians stumbled over each other as they tried to retreat, dragging children away from the scene. Shopkeepers ducked behind their counters, while street vendors abandoned their stalls entirely, spilling wares in their haste to flee. The air filled with cries for help, shouts of confusion, and the distant sound of whistles as nearby shinobi rallied to the disturbance.
The panic wasn't just because of Itachi's sudden reappearance—it was the scene itself. Danzo looked like a defenseless victim, slumped on the ground before the infamous Uchiha, who stood poised to strike with his otherworldly blade. To the uninformed eye, it seemed clear: Itachi had returned to finish what he started, to cut down Konoha itself.
"Itachi!" a civilian cried, their voice tinged with horror. "He's back to kill us all!"
The accusation stung, but Itachi remained silent, his crimson eyes scanning the chaos. This was Tobi's plan. He had dropped them here to turn public perception against him, to frame him as a monster in the eyes of the very village he had sacrificed everything to protect.
Danzo played the part perfectly, letting out a weak groan as he cradled his wounded arm. "Someone… help," he croaked, his voice hoarse and barely audible, but loud enough to be heard by the nearest shinobi.
A trio of Leaf shinobi arrived, their headbands glinting under the lantern light. They hesitated, their eyes darting between Itachi and Danzo, clearly unsure of the situation. One of them raised a kunai, pointing it toward Itachi. "Stand down, Uchiha! Drop the weapon!"
Itachi didn't move, his mind racing. The Totsuka Blade glinted in his hand, its blood-red glow only adding to the fear in the crowd's eyes. He could feel the weight of every gaze on him, every whispered accusation, every cry for help.
He had to think fast. The longer he stood there, the more this moment spiraled out of control.
Danzo let out a raspy laugh, low and cruel. "See what you've done, Itachi?" he said, his voice just loud enough to reach him. "Even now, they'll only see you for what you are—a murderer. A traitor."
Itachi didn't answer. Instead his form flickered as he vanished in a blur of movement, reappearing atop the tiled rooftops above the bustling streets. The sounds of chaos below were muffled by the distance, replaced by the whistle of wind as it rushed past him. From his vantage point, the sprawling marketplace stretched out like a patchwork quilt of colorful awnings and flickering lanterns. The bright lights cast dancing shadows, their glow illuminating his silhouette against the orange and purple sky.
But this elevated sanctuary offered no reprieve.
"Don't let him escape!" a shinobi's voice echoed from the streets below. Itachi's sharp gaze caught movement in his peripheral vision—several shinobi scrambling to follow him—but they wouldn't reach him in time. He turned to leap toward the next rooftop, but the faintest shift in the air behind him froze him in place.
He barely had time to recognize the danger when a shout pierced the air.
"Dynamic Entry!"
Itachi's body twisted on reflex as a green blur—a foot—hurtled toward him with unrelenting force. The Totsuka Blade snapped up, its flat edge intercepting Might Gai's strike. The impact was explosive, a shockwave rippling out from the collision that cracked the tiles beneath Itachi's feet and sent debris scattering into the night.
Sliding back several feet, Itachi's sandals scraped against the damaged roof. His crimson eyes locked onto Gai, who landed with effortless precision, his stance firm, his gaze burning with unyielding resolve.
"Uchiha Itachi," Gai said, his voice steady and commanding, yet brimming with challenge. "Your rampage ends here."
Gai's declaration was still hanging in the air when a sharp crack of electricity followed, the sudden surge of chakra illuminating the rooftop in stark flashes. From the darkness behind him, another figure burst into view, swift and deadly, his movements as precise as the blade of lightning that lit his path.
"Raikiri!" The sound of a thousand chirping birds split the air as Hatake Kakashi emerged from the shadows, his arm encased in crackling lightning. He surged forward, streaking toward Itachi like a bolt of vengeance.
Itachi pivoted smoothly, the Totsuka Blade flashing as it met Kakashi's strike head-on. Sparks erupted as steel met lightning, the clash reverberating through the rooftops. The force of the collision dislodged loose tiles, sending them clattering to the streets below.
"Kakashi the Copy Ninja," Itachi greeted, his voice calm despite the chaos unfolding. His movements were fluid, each strike deflecting Kakashi's attacks while keeping Gai's presence in his peripheral vision. Despite his calm outward appearance, inside he cursed himself.
Itachi had been the one to orchestrate Kakashi's return, a calculated move to ensure someone capable could watch over Sasuke while he ran the village. He had trusted Kakashi's strength, his wisdom, and his connection to the Sharingan to safeguard the boy from falling deeper into the darkness. But now, as fate would have it, they had returned not as allies but as obstacles. Their timing couldn't have been worse—arriving after Sasuke had already been taken and after Itachi's carefully constructed façade had crumbled. Instead of being the protectors Itachi had intended them to be, they were now unwitting thorns in his side, compounding the chaos that was already spiraling out of control.
"You seem lively for someone who's supposed to be dead," Kakashi said, his Sharingan locking onto Itachi's. The two circled one another briefly, the glow of the blade casting eerie reflections in the surrounding lantern light.
"Things aren't always as they appear," Itachi replied, sidestepping a swift jab from Kakashi's Raikiri. He redirected the strike with his blade, forcing Kakashi to disengage. "Listen carefully. I'm not your enemy."
Kakashi's Sharingan swirled, analyzing every flicker of Itachi's movements. "Forgive me if I'm not inclined to take you at your word."
Itachi had no time to respond as Gai shot forward in a burst of speed, his fists a blur of strikes aimed at Itachi's torso and head. The Totsuka Blade moved like liquid steel, parrying each blow with the flat of its edge. Gai's relentless Taijutsu demanded every ounce of focus, each strike a potential death sentence if mistimed.
Amid the exchange, a kunai whizzed past Itachi's face, close enough to graze the air near his cheek. His eyes flicked to its trajectory and caught a flash of movement from a distant rooftop—Tenten.
"Left, five meters!" Neji's voice called from her position, his Byakugan glowing faintly in the lantern light.
Tenten adjusted on instinct, throwing another volley of kunai and shuriken timed perfectly with Gai's attacks. Each projectile was aimed to box Itachi in, forcing him to expend more energy dodging rather than countering.
Itachi deflected one kunai with a sharp flick of his blade and sidestepped another. Internally, he couldn't help but admire their coordination. Tenten's accuracy and Neji's tactical precision made them a formidable duo, even in a chaotic fight like this.
"Neji! Tenten! Keep it up!" Gai commended them mid-strike, his spinning kick forcing Itachi to block again with the broadside of the Totsuka Blade. The impact sent a sharp vibration through his arm, and before he could recover, Kakashi was already closing in from the opposite side.
The two Leaf shinobi moved in tandem, their coordination impeccable. Kakashi's Raikiri arced toward Itachi's ribs, while Gai's spinning knee came from the opposite direction. Itachi twisted between them, narrowly evading both attacks, but he felt the weight of their relentless assault pressing him further into defense.
Gai launched into a new barrage of high-speed kicks, each strike faster and more ferocious than the last. Itachi ducked, blocked, and redirected, the blade humming as it cut through the air. With a sudden burst of speed, Gai delivered a roundhouse kick that grazed Itachi's shoulder, sending him skidding backward across the tiles.
Kakashi capitalized on the moment. His Sharingan locked onto Itachi's, their gazes meeting in an intense clash of wills. The air between them seemed to thrum with unseen energy, the weight of their bloodline's legacy pressing down on the rooftop. "You're good," Kakashi muttered, his tone low and tense. "But I've got a Sharingan too."
Itachi's grip on the Totsuka Blade tightened. Kakashi was undeniably formidable, his mastery of the Sharingan allowing him to anticipate and counter moves with unnerving precision. But for all his skill, he was still bound by the limitations of a transplanted Sharingan, ignorant of the vast power that came with an Eternal Mangekyo. Itachi's evolved eyes didn't just see through movements—they transcended the very nature of reality, shaping it to his will.
He couldn't afford to continue this fight—it wasn't part of his plan. The irony of having to subdue the very shinobi he had called upon to safeguard Sasuke wasn't lost on him.
His left eye gleamed ominously as he activated Kotoamatsukami, his gaze fixed firmly on Kakashi. "You need to stop," Itachi said, his voice layered with subtle, unbreakable authority.
Kakashi's Raikiri faltered mid-strike, the lightning dissipating as confusion clouded his expression. His arm dropped to his side, his Sharingan flickering as he struggled to resist the overwhelming genjutsu. "W-what…?" he stammered, taking an unsteady step back.
"Kakashi!" Gai's shout cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding, his voice tinged with urgency. He had seen enough to recognize the signs of a powerful genjutsu taking hold. Without hesitation, he surged forward, his speed increasing with each step, his anger and concern fueling his movements.
Itachi barely managed to sidestep Gai's attack, the green-clad shinobi's foot grazing his sleeve before smashing into the rooftop with devastating force. Tiles shattered beneath the impact, the shards scattering like glass and raining down onto the streets below. Gai pressed on, his strikes relentless and precise, a storm of Taijutsu that demanded Itachi's full attention.
Meanwhile, Kakashi stood frozen, his Sharingan swirling erratically as he struggled against the invisible grip of Kotoamatsukami. His hands trembled, moving half-heartedly to form a counter-seal, only to falter mid-sign. "Damn it… I can't… break it," Kakashi muttered through gritted teeth, his voice strained. The genjutsu was unlike anything he had encountered, subtle yet absolute, bending reality without the target even realizing it.
As Gai closed in again, Tenten's kunai began to fly once more. Her eyes remained tightly shut, a precaution born of foresight. She had obviously heard the warnings about Uchiha Itachi, the man who could ensnare someone with just a glance. Relying entirely on Neji's Byakugan and directions, she aimed each kunai with precision, trusting her teammate to guide her hand.
"Right side, two meters!" Neji's voice rang out, calm and focused despite the chaos. His Byakugan's veins bulged around his pale eyes, his gaze scanning the battlefield with unrelenting precision. "Now—center, thirty degrees up!"
Tenten released her kunai in perfect synchronization with Neji's commands, the weapons slicing through the air like streaks of silver. The projectiles were timed to follow Gai's movements, designed to catch Itachi in a deadly pincer of steel and Taijutsu.
Itachi twisted his body mid-step, the Totsuka Blade flashing as he deflected the barrage. Sparks danced across the rooftop as steel met steel, the sound sharp and metallic against the tense, chaotic atmosphere. The kunai scattered harmlessly to the ground below, but their precision was undeniable.
"Did it hit, Neji?" Tenten's voice carried through the air, her tone steady but tinged with anticipation.
"He deflected them," Neji replied, his focus unwavering. "But your aim was flawless. Left shoulder, millimeters away."
Even under the unrelenting strain of battle, Itachi couldn't help but recognize their talent. These were mere Genin, yet they demonstrated a level of coordination and skill that rivaled seasoned Jonin. Tenten's mastery of projectile weapons was extraordinary, her ability to execute perfect shots without sight a testament to her discipline and trust in her teammate. And Neji—his ability to read and control the battlefield with his Byakugan, providing precise and actionable intelligence in real time, was nothing short of remarkable.
Tenten's kunai flew in perfect unison with his movement, expertly aimed and timed under Neji's precise guidance. The projectiles struck the Totsuka Blade's edge, forcing Itachi to adjust his grip to deflect them. The brief disruption created an opening, and Gai capitalized instantly. His fist connected with Itachi's chest in a thunderous impact that sent shockwaves across the rooftop. The blow should have shattered ribs and forced Itachi into submission, but instead, his form exploded into a flurry of crows. Feathers and echoes of caws scattered into the air, swirling and dispersing in a dark, chaotic cloud.
"A crow clone," Gai muttered, gritting his teeth. His sharp eyes scanned the rooftop, searching for the real Itachi.
Across from him, Kakashi's body trembled. The subtle red glow of his Sharingan had dimmed, and his expression was vacant, his usual sharpness dulled by the overwhelming grip of Kotoamatsukami. His movements were hesitant, almost robotic, as if his mind fought against itself. Itachi's technique had fully consumed him.
"Wait, he's not an enemy," Kakashi finally called out, his voice detached and mechanical. The words drew the attention of everyone around him, snapping their gazes to him in confusion.
"What are you saying, Kakashi!?" Gai demanded, stepping to his rival's side and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. He poured chakra into the touch, hoping to disrupt the genjutsu through sheer force of will. It didn't work. Kotoamatsukami wasn't a simple illusion—it was reality rewritten, and there was no breaking free of it.
Nearby, Neji's Byakugan remained active, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "Isn't this the one Hinata-sama supposedly killed?" he asked, his tone measured yet skeptical. Despite Kakashi's declaration, Neji didn't drop his guard. His instincts warned him that the situation wasn't as simple as it appeared.
Itachi reappeared a few paces away, the crimson glow of his Sharingan unwavering. He glanced briefly at Neji, silently acknowledging the young Hyūga's sharp intuition. "Hinata and I are allies," he said calmly, deciding to take a gamble.
With deliberate precision, Itachi sheathed the Totsuka Blade into the gourd at his side. The blade flickered faintly as it disappeared, and he exhaled subtly, masking the relief that came with the action. The truth was that he had no choice but to put it away—the time limit for using the weapon had nearly expired. If he had continued wielding it, his own soul would have been absorbed into the gourd. To avoid this, he had stabbed one of his crows moments before, sacrificing it to the blade. The crow's body had dissolved into shimmering light as the gourd sealed its essence, sparing Itachi from the weapon's consequences.
"You can ask her yourself," Itachi continued, addressing Neji. He was keenly aware of the danger of this interaction. If he could just get Neji to look him in the eyes, he could use a subtle genjutsu to explain the truth. But before he could act, an unwelcome voice interrupted.
"Do not give him your ears!"
Danzo's rasping command echoed across the rooftops as he emerged from the shadows below. He wasn't walking under his own power. Instead, a pale young man with an emotionless expression—Sai—carried him. Despite his apparent fragility, Danzo's presence was oppressive, and his sharp gaze landed on Itachi like a blade.
"Itachi will trap you in a genjutsu the moment you give him a chance," Danzo warned, his voice dripping with calculated malice. "Just as he's ensnared the Copy Ninja now."
Itachi's eyes narrowed, locking onto Danzo, who stood leaning heavily against Sai for support. Danzo's right eye, uncovered and unmistakably a Sharingan, glinted ominously in the fading light. Despite his frail demeanor, he radiated an aura of control and manipulation, his cane tapping softly against the rooftop tiles as he shifted slightly.
"The one using genjutsu is Danzo," Itachi said, his voice cutting through the tension. He pointed at Danzo's exposed Sharingan. "That eye once belonged to Uchiha Shisui. Analyze this situation carefully, and you'll understand what that means. For me to have a Sharingan is one thing, but why does he have one?"
The air grew heavier, the weight of Itachi's words pressing down on everyone present. Neji's expression remained composed, but Itachi didn't miss the subtle tightening of his jaw or the way his Byakugan pulsed faintly, scanning for the truth hidden in Danzo's posture. Neji, for all his brilliance, was cautious. The wheels in his mind were undoubtedly spinning, his sharp intuition at war with the uncertainty of their predicament.
Neji's sharp voice broke the silence as he voiced his thoughts aloud. "The Sharingan doesn't belong outside the Uchiha clan anymore than the Byakugan outside the Hyūga. How does an elder of the village come to possess one?"
Danzo shifted slightly, his expression composed despite the scrutiny. "And what if I do?" he said, his tone even but laced with authority. "The Sharingan is a tool, one too dangerous to be left in the hands of traitors. It exists to serve the needs of Konoha, and I ensured it wouldn't be wasted."
Gai stepped forward, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His normally composed face was clouded with frustration. "I've heard rumors of Uchiha Shisui—of his power to bend the will of others with his genjutsu. And you're telling us that eye belongs to you now? Danzo, what exactly are you doing with it?"
Danzo leaned more heavily on Sai, his expression growing colder. "You're as naïve as ever, Gai. Shisui's power was too dangerous to leave unchecked. His death was necessary for the village's safety, and his eye is being used for the same purpose. To ensure Konoha's prosperity."
Tenten's uncertain voice cut through the tension. "Neji, is it safe to open my eyes? I can't tell what's happening."
"Don't," Neji replied firmly, his Byakugan still active. "Itachi's genjutsu can trap you in an instant. Keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise."
Itachi didn't flinch at the accusations or the distrust radiating from the group. Instead, his voice grew quieter, but no less powerful. "You desecrated Shisui's legacy, Danzo. He entrusted his power to me to protect the village—not to be twisted for your ambition."
Danzo snarled, the tomoe of his Sharingan spinning angrily. "And what have you done to protect this village, Itachi? Murdered your own clan. Betrayed your brother. Faked your death and abandoned Konoha to chaos. Don't speak to me of desecration when your hands are stained with blood."
Gai's frustration deepened, his voice a low growl. "Enough! I don't care for your words, either of you. This is getting us nowhere—both of you claiming to act in Konoha's interest, yet everything you've done only leaves death and destruction in your wake. How are we supposed to know who's telling the truth?"
Itachi's gaze flicked to Gai, his tone calm but insistent. "Look at the evidence, Gai. Danzo's Sharingan is not his own. Ask yourself why the leader of Root would require such a tool. Ask yourself why he hides his actions even from his allies."
Danzo's voice, sharp and commanding, cut him off. "Enough! Gai, you know where your loyalty lies. Itachi has betrayed this village again and again, and now he seeks to manipulate you with his lies. Do not be swayed."
Itachi's voice softened, though his conviction remained firm. "I cannot deny my sins. But I have always acted for Konoha's sake, even when it required the greatest sacrifices. Danzo twisted my choices for his gain. That is why I'm here now."
Gai's expression darkened as his instincts warred with the conflicting narratives. "Then give us proof, Itachi. If you want us to believe you, words won't be enough."
Danzo's cane tapped sharply against the tiles. His voice carried a grim finality, each word laced with quiet menace. "Proof is meaningless. There is only action."
Sai responded immediately, his movements efficient and almost mechanical as he unfurled a scroll with a single practiced motion. With one hand forming a precise seal, his brush streaked across the paper, and the ink erupted like black fire. The inky substance spiraled into the air, twisting unnaturally as if alive. It expanded in a burst, forming an intricate symbol that momentarily hung against the twilight sky before dissolving into nothingness.
But the nothingness was not empty—it carried with it an oppressive silence that descended on the group. The air grew heavy, thick with unspoken threats. Neji's Byakugan flared instinctively, his gaze darting across the rooftops. The faint creak of tiles and soft rustle of fabric heralded their arrival.
From the deepening shadows, masked figures began to emerge. Their movements were ghost-like, as though they had been part of the darkness all along. The Root operatives materialized with unnerving precision, their blank masks reflecting the fading light of the day. There was no sound beyond the quiet, synchronized steps of their approach and the faint clinking of weapons being drawn.
One by one, they filled the surrounding rooftops, their formation tightening like a noose. Each operative carried an unspoken promise of violence, their stances disciplined and devoid of hesitation. They moved with the efficiency of tools rather than people, their presence suffocating in its cold calculation.
Neji's voice broke the tense silence. "We're surrounded." His tone was steady, but the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed the gravity of the situation. He pivoted slightly, angling his body protectively toward Tenten.
Tenten gripped her kunai tightly, her knuckles white. "How many are there?" Her voice was quiet, strained, but determined.
"Too many," Neji replied grimly. "And they're waiting for an order."
Gai's fists tightened, the veins in his forearms bulging as he assessed their predicament. His sharp instincts told him there would be no negotiation here. "Danzo," he growled, stepping forward. "Call them off. This is madness."
Danzo shifted, leaning more heavily on Sai, who remained stoic. The elder's exposed Sharingan glinted in the dim light, cold and unwavering. "You misunderstand, Might Gai," Danzo said, his voice a low rumble. "This isn't madness. This is order. Uchiha Itachi is a threat to Konoha, and threats must be eliminated."
Itachi's expression didn't change, but his posture subtly shifted, his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. His gaze swept over the operatives, calculating the angles and the distances, already formulating a plan for what would come next. He spoke calmly, addressing Gai without taking his eyes off the encroaching Root agents. "You've fought beside me before, Gai. You know the lengths I go to for this village. Ask yourself—who benefits from my death here?"
Gai's eyes flickered between Itachi and Danzo, the internal conflict visible on his face. But before he could answer, Danzo raised a frail hand, his voice cutting through the moment.
"Kill Uchiha Itachi…" His words were cold, deliberate, like the finality of a closing door. His gaze swept over the Root operatives, his command absolute. "Or die along with him."
The Root agents moved as one, their steps synchronized as they closed in. Each masked figure drew a blade or prepared a jutsu, their intentions unmistakable.
The first flicker of kunai caught the dying sunlight as the masked shinobi surged forward. In a blur of motion, the fight began, the rooftops erupting into chaos. The scene dissolved into the clash of steel, the hiss of jutsu, and the shouts of shinobi caught in the crossfire of Danzo's calculated schemes and Itachi's fight for redemption.