Ryosuke studied Itachi's soft smile with caution.
Itachi smiled easily, gently… beautifully even.
But Ryosuke knew better.
This was a boy who had learned the art of wearing a mask long before most children even understood why they should pretend. His expressions were crafted, his politeness rehearsed. If Ryosuke didn't already know the future—didn't know that this same boy would one day walk through the Uchiha compound with a blade dripping crimson—he might've believed that smile.
But not now.
Itachi wouldn't be swayed by a single question. Ryosuke still had no idea how deeply the Will of Fire had sunk into him—how much of Konoha's doctrine had welded itself onto the boy's bones.
By all rights, a son should stand with his family.
Yet Itachi had chosen the village instead.
Why?
What in Konoha mattered more to him than the clan?
Than his father?
Than Izumi?
Ryosuke had his suspicions.
Itachi had seen war at three. Had witnessed death at an age where most children barely knew what fear was. He had been thrown into battlefields by Fugaku—intending to teach him reality, but instead it turned Itachi introspective, philosophical, painfully mature. He began seeing "the big picture," began thinking like the Hokage, not a child.
And Ryosuke suspected something else:
Itachi had come to believe himself above ordinary people.
A messiah of peace.
A sage who could end war through sacrifice.
Even if that sacrifice was his own clan.
Even the village's dogs, Ryosuke thought bitterly, would have been spared before the Uchiha.
Because the truth was simple:
The village elders feared Uchiha power.
The conflict wasn't about ideals.
It was about authority.
The elders feared that a powerful Uchiha Hokage would push them out of relevance. So they tightened their grip, suppressed the clan, cornered them bit by bit.
And yet the Uchiha were indispensable.
With the Senju nearly extinct, the Uchiha were the strongest bloodline left. With geniuses like Shisui and Itachi, Konoha should've been celebrating its prosperity—not fearing it.
Meanwhile, Konoha's supposed guardians were…
Jiraiya: wandering endlessly.
Orochimaru: turned traitor.
Tsunade: lost to grief and gambling halls.
The Third Hokage? A man whose greatest skill was avoiding danger and then writing history in his favor.
Ryosuke clenched his jaw. Just thinking about it irritated him.
"The Uchiha taking leadership of Konoha," Ryosuke said calmly, "would be for the village's benefit. Wouldn't they protect it better than a tired old man like Hiruzen?"
Itachi's pupils tightened.
That thought struck somewhere deep, somewhere forbidden.
To Itachi, questioning the Hokage wasn't merely disrespect—it was dangerous. And in his own twisted worldview, upsetting the village's stability was tantamount to opening the gates to war.
His answer came cold.
"Do not speak lightly of such things.
Lord Hiruzen has maintained peace and stability. He is not frail. His wisdom protects Konoha."
Ryosuke stared at him, stunned.
Had Itachi forgotten the Third Great War? The Uchiha clan held the front lines while Hiruzen remained in the rear. Minato saved the nation at Kannabi Bridge. Fugaku's intelligence work turned the tides.
And yet the academy textbooks praised Hiruzen as the "Greatest Hokage."
What a joke.
Ryosuke swallowed the irritation and pressed on.
"And what about Danzo? You know what he is. You know what he wants. He's fixated on the Sharingan. He sees us as monsters. He's dangerous, Itachi."
Itachi's expression darkened—not because he disagreed, but because he couldn't deny Danzo's importance to the vision he believed in.
"You do not understand Danzo," Itachi said sharply.
"He has protected Konoha from countless threats. His hands may be stained, but he bears that burden for the village."
Ryosuke felt his heart drop.
So that was it.
Itachi admired Danzo.
The boy who would one day take Shisui's eye.
The man who hoarded forbidden jutsu, who kidnapped civilians, who manipulated from the shadows.
Itachi—this brilliant, perceptive prodigy—saw Danzo as a hero.
Ryosuke's disbelief sharpened into anger.
"You admire him?" he demanded.
"Danzo, who traffics in deception? Who dreams of wearing Hokage robes while clutching stolen Sharingan? He's the one provoking this whole disaster! He'd rather kill every Uchiha than share authority!"
Itachi's eyes flashed with restrained fury.
"This is not about admiration," he said.
"Danzo acts for the village. You speak without understanding the weight he carries. Konoha exists because of sacrifices men like him make."
Ryosuke closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
This was worse than arguing with a wall.
Itachi wasn't being stubborn—he was devout. Almost religious. The Will of Fire had turned into scripture, and Danzo into its high priest.
So Ryosuke asked the question that mattered most.
The one that twisted Itachi's future into tragedy.
"So tell me, Itachi…
If the elders demanded the extermination of our clan—your family, every Uchiha, even Izumi—
and ordered you to carry it out…
What would you do?"
The air froze.
Itachi's reaction was immediate and visceral—his composure fractured, his pupils contracting sharply.
The smile vanished.
Breath stilled.
Eyes widened.
For a moment, he looked like a boy—not a prodigy, not an ANBU, not a weapon—but a child stabbed with an impossible choice.
"It's an absurd premise," Itachi said quietly.
"A ridiculous scenario.
It will never happen."
But the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
It wasn't absurd.
It wasn't impossible.
Ryosuke knew all too well:
It was inevitable.
Ryosuke watched the other boy's conflicted expression and felt a cold ache settle in his chest.
He had tried reason.
Logic.
Truth.
But Itachi wasn't lost to ignorance.
He was lost to belief.
To doctrine.
To a peace bought with the blood of his own people.
Talk wouldn't save him.
Ryosuke looked at him for a long moment, then let the silence deepen—a heavy, suffocating truth settling between them.
Itachi's heart was already drifting far from the Uchiha.
And if Ryosuke didn't act soon…
There might be no bringing him back.
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