Two figures, one tall and one short, walked slowly along the road as if afraid to step on even the smallest ant. Their pace was sluggish and deliberate.
The pair had just left the exchange shop, a silent understanding lingering between them.
After all, rushing back would only mean diving into the next mission waiting for them.
They weren't fools. Why would they waste energy doing something so thankless?
Jūzō was lost in thought, and Itachi had no idea what was on his mind.
As for Itachi, his thoughts were preoccupied with the responsibilities of being Konoha's spy. He contemplated what kind of intelligence he should fabricate to send back.
After all, Sasuke was essentially a hostage left in Konoha, much like a bargaining chip.
Symbolic or not, Itachi had to maintain appearances.
"What are you thinking about, kid?"
Walking ahead, Jūzō, whose stomach was starting to rumble, turned his head, intending to discuss what they should have for lunch.
To his surprise, he noticed Itachi's vacant expression, as if lost in deep thought.
So he asked.
"Nothing much, just thinking about something."
Jūzō's question snapped Itachi out of his thoughts, and he quickly came up with an excuse to brush it off.
"What's for lunch?"
Jūzō didn't dwell on Itachi's vague response and casually shifted the topic.
He wasn't particularly curious about other people's secrets.
"Uh, barbecue?"
Hearing Jūzō's abrupt change of topic, Itachi abandoned the excuses he'd prepared.
"Barbecue sounds good. Let's go with that. The mission's done anyway, and I happen to have a bottle of fine liquor. How about we share it?"
Jūzō spoke casually, glancing at Itachi, who still seemed distracted.
Even though he didn't know what was on Itachi's mind, he could guess.
After all, Itachi's age was a factor. No matter how resilient he seemed, he was bound to think about his village from time to time.
Now that the adrenaline from their tense mission had faded, his mind was naturally drawn back to those thoughts—just like Jūzō's own when he had first defected.
The two eventually found some small animals, dealt with them, and even went the extra mile to give them a good cleaning.
Itachi also gathered some plants and massaged the animals with them before giving them a heated treatment.
Jūzō then pulled out a hefty bottle of liquor and two small cups.
Carrying something like that around wasn't exactly easy, but he managed.
Before long, the aroma of roasted meat filled the air.
The animals, seemingly grateful for the care they'd received, generously offered their flesh as lunch for the duo.
A perfect example of reciprocity.
Itachi was somewhat reluctant to drink.
But Jūzō's enthusiasm was hard to resist, so he took a symbolic sip.
After all, they were still out in the wilderness, and getting drunk wouldn't be ideal.
It wasn't that Itachi feared spilling secrets in a drunken state; he simply didn't want to deal with the effects of being drunk.
However, after the first sip, his eyes lit up slightly.
The liquor wasn't strong. It had a fruity aroma with a hint of sweetness, perfectly complementing the roasted meat.
"How is it? Good, right?"
Seeing Itachi take a tentative sip, then down the rest in one gulp while nibbling on the barbecue, Jūzō smiled and refilled his cup.
"This is pretty good. Delicious," Itachi replied softly, giving his approval.
Hearing Itachi's response, Jūzō felt a sense of satisfaction.
Through his actions, he was subtly teaching the young man that life's burdens could be eased with a drink.
This thought made the liquor and meat taste even better.
By the time Itachi started on his second cup, he sipped slowly, embodying the saying, "Good liquor should be savored, not guzzled."
After all, no matter how good the drink, it was still alcohol.
And alcohol, if overindulged, could quickly overwhelm.
Jūzō had no intention of pressuring Itachi to drink. He continued pouring himself cup after cup, enjoying the barbecue.
Even while sitting quietly, Itachi could sense the deep sorrow and melancholy emanating from Jūzō.
It was clear that this man carried heavy burdens of his own.
The atmosphere grew somber and stifling.
The only sounds left were Jūzō's drinking and the occasional crackle of the fire as burning wood snapped and popped.
Itachi gently chewed on the roasted meat without making a sound, careful not to interrupt Jūzō's silent venting.
He had no idea what was bothering the man.
Was it the long-suppressed emotions finally being released?
Or perhaps he was reminiscing about unpleasant memories and using alcohol to cope?
(Man, helping him has gotten me too involved…)
Looking at Jūzō, who had fallen asleep leaning against a tree in the middle of the day, Itachi felt a bit helpless.
But he didn't say anything.
Quietly, he took the bottle of alcohol from Jūzō's grasp.
Holding it up to his ear, he gave it a gentle shake and realized there was still quite a bit left inside.
Then he noticed the bottle cap lying on the ground nearby, tossed aside by Jūzō. Itachi picked it up carefully, wiped off the dust, and sealed the bottle.
He placed it beside Jūzō.
The soft sound of snoring brought Itachi out of his thoughts.
He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head with a faint smile.
"Like a little kid…"
Though he muttered those words, Itachi didn't seem annoyed.
Instead, he got up and walked to the fire. He gently dug a small hole near it and swept the unburnt branches into the pit. Then he covered it with soil, stepping on it lightly to ensure it was buried properly.
Once he finished, Itachi found a nearby tree not far from Jūzō.
The tree was bathed in dappled sunlight.
The temperature wasn't too high today; the sun was warm and not too harsh.
Itachi leaned against the tree trunk and sat down, preparing to bask in the sunlight.
The golden rays of the sun seemed to coat the young Itachi in a warm glow.
One hand slipped out of his sleeve, playfully emerging from his robe, and hung lazily on the button of his jacket. Beneath, the faint outline of his mesh undershirt was exposed, catching the sunlight along with his defined collarbone.
The scene painted a picture of a graceful young man.
Unlike the somber and gloomy air he usually carried, this moment was filled with warmth.
Perhaps it was the sunlight, or maybe the slight tipsiness from a few drinks, but his true nature seemed to surface.
Unfortunately, the peace didn't last long.
Before Jūzō could wake up, Itachi suddenly sat up straight.
Instinctively, he reached for his jacket as if to take it off but stopped abruptly.
He remembered the dreaded "death by undressing" curse of the Akatsuki organization and immediately froze, his heart racing.
Instead, he moved his hand within his sleeve.
A puff of white smoke appeared, and a shadow clone silently landed on the ground. It walked a short distance away from Jūzō, keeping watch.
Meanwhile, the real Itachi stood up, bent his knees slightly, and leapt into the air in one fluid motion, displaying impressive agility.
After a few leaps, Itachi's hand, which had been hanging loosely from his chest, was tucked back into his sleeve.
Now standing atop a tree, he surveyed the ground below with a sharp gaze.
His piercing eyes and confident posture radiated an aura of authority.
"Come out…"
Itachi spoke calmly, his gaze fixed on a particular direction where he sensed movement.
The three-tomoe Sharingan in his eyes began to spin slowly, encircling the red pupils.
The moment he spoke, his demeanor shifted.
The confidence in his eyes gave way to a profound calmness, like the surface of a deep, still lake.
His voice turned cold and emotionless, devoid of warmth.
"Itachi Uchiha!"
A voice echoed from behind the tree as a figure slowly stepped out of the shadows.
The golden sunlight revealed the person—a man about 5'7".
He wore a forehead protector unfamiliar to Itachi, carried a short sword on his back, and had a pouch of ninja tools strapped to his thigh.
It was the standard attire of a shinobi.
"Sneaking around like that—what's your purpose?"
Itachi's calm gaze fell upon the man's unremarkable face, now illuminated by sunlight. His voice remained indifferent.
"An S-ranked rogue ninja from the Uchiha clan, huh? Care to guess?"
The stranger's mocking tone betrayed his irritation at Itachi's dismissive expression, which was as if he were looking at a lamb.
"Oh…"
Itachi spoke calmly, without making a single move.
But in the man's eyes, the small figure perched on the tree branch began to expand rapidly. In no time, it grew into a towering giant dozens of meters tall, crushing the tree beneath it. The massive figure raised a foot to stomp down on him, exuding an overwhelming presence.
Seeing this scene, the man's eyes widened in horror.
"A monster? No... this is genjutsu!"
Fear gripped his heart as he stared at the enormous sole descending toward him, compelling him to instinctively want to flee.
However, the absurdity of the situation gave him a clue.
Forming hand seals, he disrupted his own chakra flow.
"The so-called invincible Sharingan in one-on-one combat... is nothing much after all."
The giant figure before him twisted and dissipated. The world around him remained unchanged, and the boy still stood atop a slender tree branch, as calm and serene as a deity descended from the heavens.
...
Although the man's words carried a casual tone, his heart felt like it was struck by lightning.
The seemingly unremarkable boy before him exuded a lethal aura.
Most unsettling of all were his eyes, which seemed capable of piercing through everything, dragging the man into a deep abyss.
Indeed, from the beginning, the man hadn't avoided Itachi's gaze. He stared directly into those eyes without hesitation or concern.
As a young jonin not even twenty years old, he carried his own pride.
Sure, he had heard the warnings about avoiding direct eye contact with the Sharingan.
But in his arrogance, he dismissed them as exaggerations.
"Just some illusions. What's there to fear?"
Besides, knowing that his opponent's technique relied on genjutsu, he remained on guard in his mind.
How could he possibly give the other an opening to exploit?
...
"So, you're pretty bold, huh?"
Hearing the man's words, Itachi's lips curled into a faint, enchanting smile.
Although just a boy, that slight smile seemed to rob the sun and moon of their brilliance, seizing control of the stage.
The golden sunlight dimmed, reduced to a mere backdrop for his presence.
"Heh!"
The man inwardly sighed, "What a strikingly handsome young man..."
Shaking off his stray thoughts, he suppressed a shiver creeping over his skin.
He let out a dismissive chuckle.
...
The man had no intention of continuing the conversation.
His hands began forming seals at a speed so rapid it left afterimages, a testament to his solid fundamentals.
Itachi watched coldly, his expression indifferent as he waited for the man to finish.
Sliding his hand out from his sleeve, he revealed slender, delicate fingers.
They were hands more elegant than a woman's.
Itachi formed a gesture with his thumb and forefinger making a circle, the remaining fingers curled into a loose fist. His index finger pointed faintly toward the man—a simple but recognizable gesture in modern times.
This left Akai Sanjin utterly perplexed and filled with annoyance.
The contempt in Itachi's actions gnawed at his heart.
He felt as if he wasn't even being regarded as a person.
...
"You brat... you've completely pissed me off now..."
Though Akai Sanjin refrained from speaking the words outright, his tone conveyed the sentiment clearly.
"Are you done with your hand seals yet?"
Itachi's mocking tone ignored Akai Sanjin's gritted teeth and stoked his fury.
"You little... Fire Style: Great—?!"
Before Akai Sanjin could complete his technique, the scene before him abruptly shifted, sending his mind into a spiral.
The warm sunlight was gone, replaced by a crimson moon hanging in the sky.
The boy was no longer standing on the treetop but floating mid-air, perfectly aligned with the blood-red moon.
This surreal sight left Akai Sanjin bewildered and unsure of what was happening.
"Is this ninjutsu? But I've been on guard against Uchiha Itachi this whole time. My chakra has been circulating, and I was mid-attack. What kind of joke is this?"
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, each raising a question only to discard it.
"What is this?"
"In the world of Tsukuyomi, space, time, and matter—everything—is under my control," Itachi declared.
Before Akai Sanjin could respond, he noticed Itachi's eyes had transformed from the Sharingan into the Mangekyō Sharingan.
His voice carried a rare excitement.
And why not? This was his first time personally using Tsukuyomi and experiencing firsthand the intoxicating sensation of controlling everything.
...
Akai Sanjin suddenly realized that, at some point, his body had become completely immobilized.
The strange hand gesture from earlier was gone. Instead, the boy now held an oddly shaped, pitch-black object in his hand.
Before Akai Sanjin could make sense of what was happening—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A series of muffled sounds, like those of a wild beast, echoed through the space.
The noise was dull, yet it inexplicably filled Akai Sanjin's heart with an overwhelming sense of dread.
Before he could figure out what was happening, holes suddenly appeared in the ground beneath his feet…
This terrified him to no end.
Such destructive power…
"Sorry, it's my first time using this, and I missed…"
Itachi spoke with a hint of excitement, as if he had just found a new and amusing toy. He lifted the pitch-black object in his hands and gently blew at its barrel.
But unlike Itachi, Akai Sanjin felt as if the boy standing before him was the devil himself. The boy's tone was like the chilling whisper of a demon.
What made it worse was the strange, menacing object in Itachi's hands, now aimed directly at him.
This made Akai Sanjin's hair stand on end, his fear reaching its peak.
At this moment, Akai Sanjin was like a prisoner about to face execution.
And that would have been bad enough.
But to make matters worse, the boy admitted he was a novice…
The relentless torment to his psyche continued…
Little did Akai Sanjin know, the true horror was still to come.
"Bang. You're dead," Itachi said playfully, his words dripping with the malice of a devil.
At this moment, Itachi was having the time of his life, using the situation to vent his inner frustration.
"Damn it, this must be a genjutsu… But… How did I get caught in a genjutsu? This isn't real… None of this is real…"
Akai Sanjin's mental state began to crumble as he muttered to himself like a monk chanting a prayer.
"Heh, if a genjutsu could be broken so easily, would it even be called a genjutsu?"
Itachi half-closed one eye, aimed carefully, and gently pulled the trigger with his finger.
In reality, he would never behave like this. After all, doing something like this in the real world would feel borderline perverse, and battlefields didn't allow time for such games.
But here, in the genjutsu realm, the goal was to break his opponent's spirit through sheer mental torment, ultimately crushing their willpower.
So, he felt no guilt.
After all, this was his trump card. Each time he used it, he suffered backlash himself. If he didn't take the opportunity to completely destroy his opponent, it would be a waste—like shooting himself in the foot.