Itachi hated this kind of mission—he hated it with quiet, seething precision. But what he loathed most was when it involved children.
They had arrived at the coordinates marked by Akatsuki's informants: a remote training ground where Roshi, the former Jinchūriki of the Four-Tails, was hiding, mentoring the boy who had become the next host. Alongside him were two young genin. The plan was simple: he and Kisame would take the Four-Tails, while Madara, operating in secret, would secure the Five-Tails. The goal: retrieve both bijū before Iwagakure could bury them beneath rock and and hide them under military layers of bureaucracy.
Itachi understood the logic. The strategy made sense. But the execution… that was something else.
Roshi was no fool. His chakra was immense, and his mastery of Lava Release—molten fury made flesh—was beyond what Itachi believed humanly possible. When Itachi looked at him, he saw a man protecting something more than a mission. He saw love. Real, selfless love for the boy behind him.
And Itachi understood that.
Kisame, of course, was eager—his wild side stirred by the thought of pitting Samehada against such potent chakra. The blade itself seemed to vibrate with anticipation, as if tasting its future prey.
"You always get quiet before a fight," Kisame said, standing beside him. His voice was rough, but calm—almost familiar. "Cold feet, or just thinking about all the ways you're gonna lecture me afterward?"
Itachi gave him a sidelong glance. "Neither. Just hoping I won't have to kill anyone today."
Kisame chuckled. "You picked the wrong line of work, partner. But I get it. They're just kids. I'll try not to enjoy it too much."
Itachi didn't answer. Instead, he let his Sharingan glow softly and cast the Tsukuyomi. He captured Roshi's mind, not out of cruelty—but to spare him the pain.
The children in the back, including the new Jinchuriki, had fallen victim to a simpler Genjutsu, one they weren't equipped to handle, and were now lying on the floor, asleep. Kisame wasn't satisfied, but he kept his bloodlust from blooming that night, and I was grateful for that.
Itachi couldn't bear to add more deaths to his ledger, not when his own body was breaking down faster than his resolve could mend it. The illness gnawed at him from within. He felt death's fingers brushing his spine, beckoning with every breath.
But he couldn't allow himself to fall. Not yet.
Not until his brother was ready.
He needed to guide Sasuke from the shadows, to push him beyond vengeance—to make sure that when the time came, his light wouldn't flicker and die like his own.
And then there was her. That woman. Complicated, fierce… dangerous. She had offered a possibility—one that shimmered like a cruel mirage: a future, absurd and beautiful, where his sins might not erase every hope of redemption.
He didn't deserve it. He knew that.
And yet… he couldn't help but dream of it. A shared dinner with Sasuke. Laughter. Children—his, maybe. His brother's. A life.
It was a beautiful thought, and a dangerous one, he needed to continue his mission.
He shook the thought away.
They arrived at the prepared location. The sealing would begin soon. The boy, the new Jinchūriki, lay unconscious nearby, his teammates taken elsewhere. Itachi glanced one last time at the boy's face.
He closed his eyes.
And kept walking.
He had no right to stop now.
<<<< o >>>>
I opened my eyes to see Hiashi standing at the entrance, alert. His Byakugan flared to life intermittently, each activation casting pale light across his face. His aura was like a blade—sharp, precise, unwavering—as he silently observed this broken civilization on the brink of collapse. Through his eyes, he could see the bloodline he shared with these people, the echoes of the same ancestor flowing through their veins. And with his vision, every cruel detail of their suffering was laid bare.
Yet amid the sorrow was also the possibility of salvation. Perhaps our presence here was not a coincidence.
Beside me, Hanabi still slept, her breath calm and steady. Her hand rested over mine protectively, as if she were afraid I might disappear again. I decided not to disturb her. I closed my eyes and let my Mind's Eye expand.
The world bloomed in layers before me, opening wider and wider. Now I too could see what Hiashi saw: pain, despair, and weariness etched into the spiritual energy of these people. But I sought something more—something abstract, hidden beneath it all. This inner world of the Moon resonated with my blood, just as it did with Hiashi and Hanabi. I could feel the artificial sun radiating above, gently repelling all matter. Its constant pressure mimicked gravity, enforcing order across the hollow Moon's interior.
The light fortified the shell of this realm. And from that, I began to sense it—the laws that shaped this world. The Tenseigan didn't merely cast light or grant power. It imposed structure. It generated rules.
I remembered the threads of power used to animate the Moon's puppets. That same force stemmed from the Tenseigan. It was like the mechanisms I encountered in the Pure Lands—a realm where I had learned to defy rules of movement by adapting to its spiritual framework.
If I could bend the laws of the Pure Lands…
Why not here?
I let my perception drift further, studying the patterns of light and resistance emanating from the Tenseigan. It reminded me of Yumegakure—real and unreal, natural and artificial, overlapping layers of existence. Vital energy and spiritual essence intertwined to create effects I couldn't yet name—but I could begin to feel them. Understand them.
Deep within the Tenseigan pulsed a voice—clear and ancient. A guiding will meant to stabilize this world, a beacon for Hamura's descendants. But that voice was fading, drowned beneath thousands of discordant cries. They belonged to those who believed the only salvation was through destruction. They were trying to twist the Moon's course to serve their own ends.
My thoughts stilled when Hanabi stirred beside me.
"Good morning, sister," she whispered.
I smiled, clasping her hand gently as she sat up. "Good morning, Hanabi. Thank you for keeping me grounded, Hiashi."
Hiashi turned slightly, his expression calm but tired. "It was nothing. You two were exhausted. Luckily, I had time to rest before your arrival."
He was lying, of course. He hadn't slept in days. But his worry for us was genuine. I could feel his pride quietly resurfacing at the sight of his daughters sleeping side by side.
I remembered my mother in that moment—her lullabies, her warmth.
Hanabi shifted beside me. "Then it's your turn to rest. We'll stand guard now."
Hiashi shook his head. "There's no time. Things are accelerating. The puppet army loyal to the faction that wants to 'cleanse' the world of Hagoromo is already on the move."
Hanabi gripped my hand tightly. I could feel her fear. What she had seen yesterday haunted her.
"Is there anything we can do to stop this?" she asked.
Hiashi's voice was calm but firm. "From what I've gathered, the Hyūga of our world are revered here. There is a legend that when the two branches of the family are united, a miracle will occur. To them, we may appear as royalty. That gives us influence… which could either stop this war—or make it worse."
<<<< o >>>>
Hebi had paused their march under a thick canopy of pine, the air colder than expected as they neared the border of the Land of Iron. The night before had been silent but tense—each member aware of their mission.
They were halfway through a ridge trail when Hinata stopped walking and turned to face them. The wind tugged at the edge of her cloak, revealing the ceremonial folds of her silver-lined kimono.
"I need your help," she said suddenly. Her voice was even, but something in her posture betrayed uncertainty. "Something happened with my spiritual clone I sent out days ago... It was seen. If I don't change my appearance soon, I risk compromising everything."
Suigetsu immediately burst out laughing. "Wow, so much for subtlety. Good thing you're not a ninja anymore—this is seriously embarrassing."
Karin, oddly, stepped forward in her defense. "Clothing is a form of expression, Suigetsu. A woman cultivates her presence. It's not just about blending in—it's about owning the image you give the world."
Jūgo, calm and observant, offered, "You could wear a mask. Like the ANBU."
"Where do you expect us to get a mask in the Land of Iron?" Suigetsu said, still smirking.
Sasuke, who had remained quiet until now, looked toward the valley below. "There's a town nearby. We'll find what she needs there—a mask, new clothes. Something less… ceremonial."
As the plan was laid out, Hinata and Karin moved toward the village while the others stayed behind. Kuro let out a sharp huff.
"What about me? I'm recognizable too! Everyone knows what I look like!"
Mitsue, seated calmly on a rock, tapped her chin with her tail. "Not many people know what I look like. As long as I stay above you, you should be fine."
She leaned forward, her voice lowering to something more conspiratorial. "But… I do know some compounds that can change your fur color. We could turn you white. And if you're serious… I found an eye from a beast I harvested recently. I can try fitting it in place of your lost one."
Kuro tilted her head, suspicious. "I wanted something cool like a Sharingan or whatever... But I guess... yeah. Let's try it. Disguise it is."
By sunset, the group watched as Karin returned from the town, followed by a figure whose transformation stunned even Suigetsu.
She wore tightly fitted shinobi gear with subtle armor plating. Her face was hidden behind an oni mask of lacquered black and crimson, and her long black hair—now tied high—fell over a sword wrapped in cloth and bandages. It was unmistakably Hinata beneath the façade, but she moved with practiced ease. Still, the faint pink on her ears betrayed how mortified she felt.
Karin, meanwhile, looked less than pleased with the final result. "This wasn't exactly the aesthetic I had in mind," she muttered.
Suigetsu leaned in and gave a wolfish grin. "You know, we should've done this ages ago. Those kimonos covered way too much."
Sasuke didn't dare say anything, but he knew that both he and Jūgo quietly agreed with Suigetsu's assessment—though that only made Hinata's discomfort worse.
Their journey resumed, now with Hinata concealed under the codename 'Oni,' her form wrapped in dark gear and masked like a shadow of legend. Kuro, newly transformed with white fur and one wild crimson eye beside a calmer, normal one, padded quietly at Mitsue's side. As they crossed into the borders of Iwagakure, the terrain shifted beneath their feet—harsh, rocky, and charged with tension.
Hinata stopped them near a ridge overlooking a valley where a town flickered with torchlight. She spoke in a hushed but commanding voice.
"Up ahead is Kisame. Itachi was seen further back. I'm going to slip past unnoticed with Kuro and Mitsue. You four go ahead and confront him. Kisame will likely demand it be a one-on-one between Sasuke and Itachi, but I think I can sneak through with Kuro's help."
The team nodded as they split, and sure enough, Kisame stood in the main road into town, Samehada already at his side. His sharklike smile widened.
"Only Sasuke passes. This is something that needs to be settled between brothers."
Sasuke narrowed his eyes. "They're here to make sure that happens."
Suigetsu's hand hovered near his blade, eyes flicking to Samehada with gleaming temptation. "Better make sure you do come back," he muttered.
Karin and Jūgo stood behind Sasuke, silent but steady.
"Your brother is waiting for you at the old fort... we clear it for the meeting," Kisame says with a terrifying smile.
As Sasuke walked forward, none noticed the spiritual shimmer in the nearby treetops—Hinata's illusionary clone, Kuro, and Mitsue had slipped by, completely hidden under layers of misdirection and silence.
The wheels of destiny were spinning.
And this time, a gentle hand was there to guide them toward paths yet unwritten.