I wanted to laugh, but it stuck in my throat like a bone.
The rooftops bristled with them. Masks like pale ghosts perched on every tile edge, shadows spilling down the walls like ink from a knocked-over bottle. Porcelain faces, anonymous and cold, the kind that made you wonder if there was even a person under there or just a puppet on strings.
Thrice over what I'd faced against those Kiri ANBU back in Wave Country. Thrice over. And I couldn't sense a single one of them. Only Itachi's presence burned through.
Only him. Standing there. Looking at me with those cold, dark eyes like I was a particularly uninteresting insect he was deciding whether or not to step on.
My hands curled into fists. I wanted to laugh.
I whistled low, dragging my gaze slowly from the rooftops back to Itachi's black eyes, and forced my lips into a smile.
"Damn. Must've really struck a nerve there, huh?"
I let out a short breath; half laugh, half disbelief, and twice that in barely restrained anger. The math didn't add up, but I wasn't really in the mood to care about arithmetic right now.
"Do you call backup for every awkward conversation that doesn't go your way, or am I just special?"
Itachi nodded, slow as molasses, like he was savoring the moment. "You are indeed special. Just not in the way you'd like to think." His voice stayed even, a scalpel slicing through the tension with a tone you'd use to brief someone before sending them into a meat grinder. "Your name appears on several classified registers," he continued. "Registers reserved for individuals who pose... significant risks to village stability. Registers that seldom allow names to linger long or to grow old."
He paused. I was certain this time it was for dramatic effect. The bastard had probably practiced it in a mirror.
"So yes," he continued, soft as a whisper but heavy as lead. "You receive special consideration. View this as a courtesy. Before it escalates into formal proceedings."
Courtesy. The word echoed in my skull, bouncing around like a ricocheting kunai. Courtesy?
I must've missed the part where they offered me tea and a comfortable chair. Where the fuck was this so-called courtesy? What kind of twisted, Uchiha-brand definition of the word included being surrounded by enough armed killers to siege a small country?
My smile cracked, twisting into a snarl that pulled at my cheeks, turned into something uglier.
"Ah," I muttered, my voice dropping into a snarl I didn't bother hiding. "The good old Uchiha courtesy." I let the words hang there, bitter and sharp, before I sighed. "On whose orders is this questioning?" I asked in a cold voice.
"The authorization comes from where it needs to." Itachi's tone didn't waver. "If you have nothing to hide, it won't take long."
I raised an eyebrow. What a load of evasive bullshit. Like I was some genin too dumb to read between the lines. He really did have a gift for getting under people's skin. The sheer disrespect in that non-answer was almost impressive.
"Does the Hokage know about this?" I asked again, enunciating each word carefully.
"This matter falls under internal security protocol."
I wasn't impressed. Not even a little.
Internal security protocol fell under village oversight, which meant the Hokage would need to be informed. That was how the chain of command worked. That was how it was supposed to work.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and deliberate, letting me draw my own conclusions.
"I'll ask again." I clicked my tongue. "Does. The Hokage. Know?"
"This isn't a conversation anymore." Itachi raised one hand. The Anbu on the rooftops shifted into combat stances, weapons drawn and ready. "Will you cooperate?" Itachi asked, "Or do we proceed through alternative means?"
I stared at him for a long beat, the street's quiet amplifying every breath. He stared back, unmoving, a statue with a pulse.
Finally, I exhaled through my nose and raised both my hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get your panties in a twist, Itachi-sama." The sneer in my voice was thick enough to choke on. "What do you want to know?"
People think questions are harmless. A search for truth. An innocent probe into the unknown.
They were not. A question was an incision. A cut made along the grain of one's mind, sliding between the layers of what one knows and what one was willing to admit. You could tell everything about a person by what they ask. What they think they need to know. What they've already assumed.
What someone wants to know reveals what they don't know.
Every question was a window. Not into the answer, but into the asker. It hands over leverage. It admits ignorance, carves a path for the other guy to lead you down.
That was why people in our profession rarely ask questions outright. We observe. We infer. We let silence do the work because silence didn't expose your hand. Asking a question was showing your cards before the bet was even placed.
So when Itachi had asked, it had surprised me a little. Not because Itachi was dumb or inexperienced to make such a dumb mistake. Far from it.
But because he was smart enough to know that his opponent would overthink it. That they'd wonder why he was asking. That they'd spiral into analysis and second-guessing while he watched them tie themselves in knots.
In that sense, a dumb move wasn't dumb at all if made by a master. It was a bait.
All of that, of course, was under the premise the other guy was not tied and cornered. Which if it were the case, like myself right now, then it was alright to drop your guard a bit and ask a question. And that was the goal, to bait him to ask me questions, tell me what Danzo didn't know or want to know about me.
But Itachi Uchiha was not that easy to play a game on. I wanted to laugh.
Three Anbu dropped from the rooftops, landing in a tight formation. One at my back. Two at my sides. Their weapons were raised and ready, gleaming faintly in the dying light.
This was his way of applying pressure without lowering himself to threats.
I clicked my tongue. There goes my hope of figuring out what he doesn't know about me.
"Hey, hey," I said, forcing a casual tone. "Not a patient man, huh?" I put a hand to my chin, tapping my finger thoughtfully. "Let's see. You want to know what I'm doing here, right? Well. Let me think….."
I paused, drawing it out.
"I was on my way home. Long day, you know? You wouldn't believe how much happened from the moment I left my house this morning. Busy, busy, busy. Felt like three days crammed into one. I mean, honestly, you'd think—"
The Anbu on my right shifted, raising his blade higher, the edge angled toward my throat.
"Alright, alright, to the point, I get it," I coughed. "Anyway. I was on my way home when I….." I paused again, this time for dramatic effect. Because if he could be dramatic bitch, so could I. "Got lost."
Silence settled over the empty street like a blanket of snow. Then I….. couldn't contain my laughter anymore. I chuckled. It was a punchline. Even if no one else found it funny, I did.
And then there was Itachi's reaction. Or rather, his lack of any. Which somehow felt like more of a reaction than anything he could've said. It felt like a win, poking at his composure.
"Yeah, I know, I know." I kept going. "Terrible sense of direction. Real klutz, that's me. I swear I was walking straight, and then—boom—suddenly I'm here. It's like the streets just rearranged themselves. You ever had that hap—"
My instincts failed me as the blade punched through my back, cut into my lung, erupting out of my chest in a spray of phantom red.
The pain that followed was real. Too fucking real. I had to focus every ounce of strength and chakra I had just to keep from exploding on the spot.
I looked down at the blade protruding from my chest, slick and gleaming.
"Seriously—" I started to say, but whatever I was about to add choked off by the blood crawling up my throat. I coughed, spraying red across the cobblestones.
"Vitals were spared." Itachi looked at me with cold, unblinking eyes. "This serves as your final admonition. Further evasion will not be tolerated."
Really?
"You're..." I shook my head, forcing the words out past the blood in my mouth. "You're not following the steps, Itachi." Another cough. More blood. "Is this... how Anbu does things? It's rather... disappointing."
The blade twisted in my chest.
I ignored it—or tried to.
"N-no, seriously," I continued, my voice strained but stubborn. "These things are supposed to follow a gradual path. Subject's uncooperative? Start small— I don't know, perhaps break a finger, twist a nail, maybe a bone if you're feeling spicy. Not... this. Straight to the stabby bits."
I coughed again, the taste of copper thick on my tongue.
"This is why…. I refused to join Anbu," I muttered.
Itachi's expression didn't change. "You refused to join because you lacked the fortitude. The resolve to bear such burdens. You are a coward."
"That's..." I looked offended for half a second. But then I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, fair. True enough." I paused, then added, "Still feels good to have been right, though. If all Anbu are this bloodthirsty and tactically brain-dead, I dodged a kunai there."
Itachi's brows furrowed. Just slightly.
I took that as an invitation to keep talking.
"No, really. What did you think was going to happen here?" I gestured weakly at the blade sticking out of my chest. "You said you avoided my vital organs, but most people don't survive a punctured lung. Or do you not consider lungs vital? Maybe not. We've got two, after all. But the point is—I'm dying now. So there's no point in me talking, is there? Why spill secrets — not saying I have any — if the reaper's knocking anyway? All the intimidation you set up falls apart right here."
He didn't answer, and I wondered if that did stump him.
That is…. oddly invigorating. I forced myself to straighten, ignoring the way the blade shifted inside me. "If I'm going to die anyway, why bother answering your questions? Or did you think I'd be too scared—too hurt—to think clearly?"
I met his eyes, holding his gaze.
"You know….. I was angry at first," I continued quietly when he didn't answer. "Angry that you thought so little of me. That you believed such a base, clumsy intimidation tactic would work."
I let out a short, bitter laugh.
"But then you kept going with it. And I couldn't help but find it funny. Like watching a child set up a prank. On one hand, you're annoyed that they think it'll work. On the other... you're curious. You want to see where it goes."
For the first time, Itachi's brows drew together in a frown. He didn't like being the punchline. Even better. I didn't like the sword in my chest either.
"I haven't avoided your gaze, Itachi," I looked him dead in the eyes. "because of some inflated sense of self-worth. I haven't because it didn't fucking matter." I nodded slowly. "You already cast your genjutsu on me before we even crossed paths. That old man. The only person I passed on the road. Someone utterly unremarkable." I smiled faintly, blood staining my teeth. "You overdid it a bit. Making yourself that forgettable."
I took a deep breath, or tried to. Even though the blade and the pain were illusions, my brain was having a hard time telling the difference.
Still. I felt no small amount of pride at having gotten one over on Itachi Uchiha.
I had to give credit to my past self for studying him so obsessively. For trying to understand how he fought. Why did everyone fall for his genjutsu.
Itachi was like a magician. Not the kind with actual magic—the kind with tricks. Sleight of hand. Misdirection. He prepared the battlefield and the victim long before the fight ever began.
Sets the stage, primes the mark, then pulls the rug. Yet…. I had jumped way before the rug pull.
And it was luck. Luck that I'd sensed the crows were summons. Luck that I'd felt Itachi's presence through the faint residue of Nature Energy.
Luck that he hadn't gone straight for Tsukuyomi. Then again, he didn't need to.
And even if he had... well. It wasn't like I was completely defenseless.
It was luck that Itachi Uchiha had underestimated me. That he'd thought so little of me, he hadn't bothered bringing his A-game. Yet that left a bitter taste in my mouth, and it was not the blood.
Usually, I loved being underestimated. Still, I'd gotten one up on him. And a chance like that wouldn't come again.
So I savored the win.
Because it was a win. A small one. But a win nonetheless.
Itachi proved he wasn't a sore loser. His lips quirked into a faint smile, and he let out a soft snort—barely audible, but there.
"It seems I've underestimated you," he said quietly. He glanced east for a brief moment, then looked back at me. "It won't happen again." Echoing my own thoughts.
My smile widened. It felt good.
The Anbu on the rooftops vanished, like their opacity turned to zero. The ones at my sides dissolved into nothing.
But the blade in my chest stayed.
I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"It's a simple genjutsu now," Itachi said, his faint smile widening slightly. "You can dispel it. Or... perhaps you can't?"
I scoffed. I'd need to evaluate him; bastard couldn't stand losing.
That aside, he'd already figured it out. He really was terrifying.
I flicked my wrist, summoning a kunai into my hand, and nodded toward the east—the direction Itachi had glanced at. "Then perhaps we should end this."
Itachi hummed softly and raised his hand.
I immediately dropped into a crouch, muscles coiling—
A green blur landed between us.
"Hold, my youthful comrades! There is no need for such fiery confrontation in the heart of our vibrant village!"
Guy-sensei struck a pose between us, his back to me, one fist raised triumphantly toward the sky. Behind me, Rock Lee mirrored the stance, his wide eyes locked on me with alarming intensity.
"Yes! Let us channel this energy into something more productive!"
I blinked. Hard. Because, shit—I hadn't forgotten about the Hokage's spies. Not at all. Totally on top of that. Fuck.
Guy-sensei turned slightly, addressing both of us now. "There is NO problem that cannot be solved through hard work and dedication! If there is tension between you, let us settle it with a contest of strength and endurance! One thousand push-ups! The loser buys lunch for a month!"
That was… not good.
I found myself exchanging a look with Itachi. And what was even stranger, I found the same perplexed expression mirrored on his face.
How do you deal with this?
After a long, awkward pause, Itachi spoke first. He shook his head slowly. "This is pointless. You're wasting time."
Yeah. The Uchiha prodigy had many talents. But human interaction had never been his forte. It was almost heartwarming.
Guy-sensei's voice boomed loud enough to wake half the district. "It is NEVER a waste of time to reconcile with a fellow shinobi! The bonds of comradeship are forged through shared struggle and mutual respect! Come, let us sweat together under the moon's watchful eye!"
Yeah….. I coughed, intentionally this time, though it was still hard to talk with a sword in my chest. "That's, uh... not what he means, Guy."
I hesitated, realizing how awkward this was about to sound. It was painfully obvious that Guy-sensei wasn't cut out for espionage.
"We're not really here," I continued, pointing east. "We're just clones. The originals are—"
Didn't see or rather, didn't expect the kick coming. Blinding fast, it connected square — poof. I dispersed in a puff of smoke.
— — — — — — — — — — — —
A/N: Man, I could have spent weeks writing and rewriting this confrontation. While I'm relatively mildly proud of how it turned out so far, the voice of perfectionism is no less grating.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
PS. You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem