His father lived for the honor of the clan.
Itachi didn't know how to comfort him. For the first time in his life, he had seen that stern and unyielding man reveal a trace of vulnerability.
Even after leaving the study, the unease in his heart remained.
Everyone carried their own goals—their own dreams.
But what about him?
He had none.
That thought weighed heavily on his mind as he walked down the corridor back to his room.
For the first time, he understood what it meant to bear a burden.
And it was suffocating.
Dozens of lives—his clansmen, his comrades—had once rested upon his shoulders.
Among them was his parents' cherished friend, Uchiha Tera.
It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Now that the truth had been revealed, some of that pressure was gone… yet the emptiness it left behind was worse.
Everyone around him seemed to have a purpose for living, something to strive toward.
He alone… had nothing.
--
Suddenly, Itachi realized that from the very beginning, he had never truly chosen a direction of his own.
Training, study, missions—every step of his path had been laid out by his father.
He had simply followed the plan, obediently and efficiently.
He had never even stopped to consider whether he liked it or not.
Perhaps that was why… he had begun to question the meaning of life itself.
Despite the storm of thoughts within him, his face remained perfectly calm—cold, unreadable, detached as always.
....
"Lady Artoria."
Back in his room, Itachi sat formally at his desk. Across from him sat Artoria Pendragon, posture regal as ever.
"Thank you," he said earnestly. "For what you did on the battlefield. If not for your guidance and presence, I might not have returned unscathed."
It wasn't empty courtesy—it was the truth.
Several times, her warnings had saved his life, helping him dodge enemy kunai and shuriken at the very last moment.
When he had been forced to hide, she had acted as his eyes—scouting the surroundings, reporting movements.
For someone who was once a queen, that act of humility felt almost unreal to him.
A queen…
In his mind, that title was equal to that of the Hokage—or even the Daimyō of the Land of Fire.
To imagine either of them serving as his eyes was nearly inconceivable.
"There's no need for gratitude," Artoria said lightly, waving a hand. "You are, after all, the only person in this world I can communicate with."
Her expression softened faintly as she regarded him—a small child, barely tall enough to see over the table, bowing his head with solemn sincerity.
Even in Britain, she thought, she had never encountered a child quite like this.
Precocious children existed, yes—but one who seemed born with an instinctive wisdom, a quiet awareness of everything around him…
Perhaps only one created by magic and dragon's blood, like herself, could truly understand such a being.
—
"So that is why you help me," Itachi said calmly. "Because I am your only link to this world?"
He paused.
"…Forgive me for speaking plainly—it may sound presumptuous. But I've sensed that your assistance isn't solely for that reason."
His gaze was steady. "When we spoke earlier, you said you were not meant to exist within my life's path—that you wished not to interfere in my growth."
"But from what I've observed… you have been guiding me, whether you intended to or not. I don't know if that guidance is good or bad. But your words and actions contradict what you claim."
Perhaps at first, she had acted out of necessity—helping him only because he was her sole bridge to this world.
But somewhere along the way, something had changed.
She began to influence him—quietly, subtly—through her words and gestures.
When she had said,
"Shouldn't you be thinking about how to survive this instead?"
—after he'd nearly given away his position hiding in the tree hollow—her tone had been cold, but now, in retrospect, he heard the frustration of a teacher scolding a pupil.
When she said,
"I won't grieve forever,"
and later, her comments about Konoha's politics,
"Your mother seems eager to speak with you,"
"Only by living through it yourself can you truly understand,"
"To abandon wounded soldiers is cruel—but ensuring victory is the commander's truest duty."
—he remembered every single one.
Her "offhand remarks" had shaped him little by little, molding his thinking, his judgment, even the way he viewed life.
...
Artoria was silent for a long time. Her emerald eyes met his unflinchingly.
"When did you notice?" she finally asked.
"In the bath," Itachi replied without hesitation. "It was something you said that made me realize it."
"Just one sentence?" she murmured, a small smile flickering across her lips. "And you immediately understood?"
There was admiration in her gaze now.
"…Truth be told," she continued, "I only became aware of it because you pointed it out. I hadn't realized how much I had been subtly influencing you."
"For that," she said softly, "I apologize."
"I never intended to interfere. But your actions… made it difficult for me not to."
"Difficult to restrain yourself?"
Itachi tilted his head slightly. "So you mean… your guidance wasn't deliberate, but instinctive?"
"Yes."
Artoria nodded. "I see my reflection in you."
"When you misunderstood the ambush and took all the guilt upon yourself… when you chose to carry that burden alone… I saw my own past in your eyes."
Her tone grew heavier.
"You are not an ordinary child, Itachi. Someday, you will bear an enormous weight—whether as the head of the Uchiha clan… or as Hokage of this village."
"And perhaps because I sensed that, I began to act… not as an observer, but as someone who wanted to shape you—to add a fragment of my own beliefs into your heart."
Her gaze lowered slightly, voice turning distant, almost wistful.
"Before my death, I wished for only one thing—to return to the day of selection, the day the sword chose its king, and to change that history, even at the cost of my soul."
"But I didn't wish to change my fate. That was sealed the moment I drew the sword from the stone."
"What I wanted was to change Britain's fate."
"I used to think… if the next king were chosen differently—by the will of the people, not by a sword—perhaps things would have been different."
"Maybe that new king would understand the hearts of the people better than I did… would know what they truly desired. Even if that meant erasing all trace of me from history, I would have accepted it."
Her emerald eyes dimmed with melancholy.
"But it's too late now. Britain is gone to me forever."
She looked at Itachi, her voice soft yet resolute.
"And so… as a failed king, I want to witness the life of one who might become a true one."