"I should be glad?" Itachi's voice was flat, his face an unreadable mask as he stared at his old friend. "The Shisui I knew would never have said that to me."
A faint, almost sorrowful smile touched Shisui's lips.
"People change, Itachi. Especially when they find a path they truly believe in. Once you're on it, you don't look back."
As he spoke, he casually laid a hand on Fuguki Suikazan's shoulder. A low hum vibrated through the air, and a dark, shimmering energy enveloped the massive man until he faded from sight.
Itachi's eyes narrowed to slits, fixed on the empty space. 'A space-time jutsu?'
"Just a different application of the Garganta," Shisui said, as if reading his mind. He shrugged. "But that's not important. The point is, we're on different roads now. Your heart remains in Konoha. Mine is in the Land of Waves."
"Why?" Itachi asked, genuine confusion bleeding into his tone. "You loved the village. The Will of Fire… you were the one who—"
"Let's not, alright?" Shisui cut him off, a weary edge to his voice. "Yes, I was the one who preached the Will of Fire to you. It all seems rather foolish now, doesn't it?"
Itachi was taken aback. "What?"
"They're just words, Itachi. A catchy slogan. Who decides what they truly mean? The First Hokage? The Third? Or what about Danzō?"
At that name, Itachi fell silent. He understood all too well. The Third Hokage held the official doctrine, but Danzō had always been happy to twist it into a weapon to control the Uchiha. The truth of it was clear; he simply had no rebuttal.
"We don't have anything like that in the Land of Waves," Shisui continued, his smile returning. "No grand 'Wills.' No shinobi, either."
"So that's it, then?" Itachi's voice was cold. "You're still trying to recruit me?"
"Not even close," Shisui said, shaking his head. "To be honest, with your current mindset, you wouldn't meet the standard."
A flicker of emotion crossed Itachi's otherwise stoic face. "I suppose I should be thankful for that. It makes refusing easier."
A pillar of crimson, raw power exploded from him, making the very air crackle.
"Then do it, Shisui. You better kill me here and now," Itachi's voice was as cold as ice as his hand swept over his face, his mask materializing. "Because if you don't, I will use every ounce of this power to erase your precious Land of Waves from the map."
"Figures," Shisui sighed, unshaken. "The boss said you wouldn't go quietly. Well, if that's how you want it..."
He vanished.
Itachi's eyes widened. His mask snapped fully into place just in time.
BOOM.
The impact of their colliding arms released a shockwave that rattled the swamp. Itachi was thrown back, his feet carving trenches in the mud.
The tomoe in his eyes spun wildly, morphing into the intricate pattern of the Mangekyo Sharingan.
Amaterasu!
Black flames erupted around Shisui.
"I told you, that doesn't work on me," Shisui said, sounding almost bored. He pivoted, a dark portal swirling open behind his arm to swallow the cursed flames into nothingness. He never broke stride. The moment his feet touched the ground, he was already driving a fist toward Itachi's face.
Itachi blocked, but the force lifted him from his feet and sent him hurtling backward. He was still in the air when Shisui's follow-up kick slammed into his side.
CRACK.
The impact felt like being struck by a tidal wave. Itachi was thrown across the swamp like a discarded ragdoll, finally plowing into the earth with a crunch.
The ground erupted. When the muck and debris settled, a small crater marked where half the swamp had been.
"Had enough yet?" Shisui asked from the sky above, looking down at him. He wasn't even winded. "You can keep this up for a while. But we both know how it ends."
"You want me to simply surrender?" Itachi pushed himself up, his voice a ragged whisper.
"I want you to see the reality right in front of you."
"My reality shattered a long time ago."
"So you're here to die?"
"You have to be able to kill me first!"
Itachi launched back into the air. This time, a swirling storm of crows erupted around him, their shrieks filling the air. They coalesced, swarming over his arm until they formed a massive, jagged sword of pure energy and feathers.
"Huh," Shisui grunted, genuine surprise on his face. "Alright, didn't see that one coming. A sword forged from spiritual crows? Neat trick."
"Crow's Spike!" Itachi offered no explanation. He simply hurled the colossal blade at Shisui.
The air screamed as it was torn apart. For the first time, Shisui's expression shifted to one of focus. He brought his hands up, ready to meet the attack.
But then he froze. His body locked up, held fast by an invisible force.
'Space-Time Jutsu?!'
"Sorry about this," a new voice said. Minato appeared in a flash of yellow, a special kunai in his hand. "It's nothing personal, Shisui."
It was all the opening Itachi needed.
The crow-fueled blade descended.
BOOOOM.
The world dissolved into a blinding, overwhelming dome of black light. It was so intense, so massive, that it lit up the distant skyline of the Land of Waves, a second, darkened sun blooming on the horizon.
—
From a safe distance, the spectators watched the cataclysmic light show.
"Now that's a sight," Pakura muttered, shielding her eyes. "For a human, that's insane power. He must be as strong as one of the old top thirty Arancar"
"Shisui is still playing with him," Hanzo said, his arms crossed, his tone bordering on boredom.
"Seriously, I wouldn't want to fight that guy," Yahiko chimed in with a good-natured laugh.
"You're being too modest," Hanzo grunted, glancing at him sidelong. "The boss called the top thirty Arrancar 'monsters' for a reason. And Shisui is the Third Espada. He isn't even trying."
"Yeah," Yahiko conceded. "You're probably right."
—
Back in the crater, Itachi breathed in ragged gasps. His clothes were in tatters, and every bone in his body screamed in protest. That final attack had drained him completely.
"Did we get him?" Minato asked, landing softly beside him.
Before Itachi could form the word "no," the ground at their feet exploded.
Shisui stood there, not a scratch on him, his hand resting calmly on the hilt of his sheathed sword. The familiar look was gone—the nostalgia, the patience, all of it. What remained was a cold focus.
"Playtime is over, Itachi," he said, his voice flat.
In one fluid motion, he drew his blade.
The sheer pressure of the release tore a canyon into the earth, a deep scar that raced toward the horizon for miles.
_____
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