"Sorry, I'm late."
"Hi, Itachi."
Shisui stood on the edge of the cliff, gazing at the waterfall. Lately, they had seen each other rarely: Itachi was busy with Anbu, and Shisui was dealing with the clan problem. Itachi approached closer and was struck by how much his friend had changed. His features had sharpened, dark bags under his eyes. Shisui was utterly exhausted, and Itachi felt a pang of conscience.
"You look tired."
"Had some work."
"Sorry. I said we'd work together, but ended up dumping it all on you."
"You have missions; you can't refuse them. We're both in Anbu, but Sandaime gave me authority and full freedom of action, so naturally I could work on it more than you."
It didn't make it easier. Shisui was just too kind to him, but in essence, Itachi hadn't done anything. He went on missions and put off the clan problem. And seeing the exhausted Shisui, Itachi's soul began to gnaw with guilt. Just like when Sarada dragged him to her room at night and begged him to stop the rebellion. Oh, if only he knew how!
"Several Police officers don't trust you."
"Yeah, I know."
"You don't get it; it's serious. They're watching your every move closely. Moreover, they ordered me to spy on you."
Itachi's chest went cold.
"I'm covering for you, so relax."
Was it father?
"Yashiro, Inabi, Tekka," Shisui seemed to read his thoughts. "Zealous revolution supporters. Be careful, okay?"
"I was ready for that."
"You're always so firm and confident," Shisui smiled. "I like that. It's your strength, and at the same time—a weakness. But anyway, to business. Why I called you... Do you remember what tomorrow is?"
Itachi nodded silently. Of course he remembered. Tomorrow was the clan meeting where everything would be decided.
"If it goes as usual, we won't stop the uprising."
"What do you suggest?"
"I'll attack your father."
"What?!"
"Shh, don't freak out. Just genjutsu."
"But will it work..."
"It will," Shisui replied firmly.
Itachi began to understand.
"That Sharingan in the fight with Mukai."
"Exactly."
"What is it, Shisui?"
His friend hesitated. Judging by everything, memories of the power hidden in his eyes were unpleasant for him. He sighed.
"Fine, sooner or later I was going to tell you anyway."
Shisui sat on the ground, hunching his back, hugged his knees with his arms, and continued admiring the waterfall, where sunset flames danced in the flow.
"The highest level of our dojutsu is Mangekyo Sharingan. In all history, only a few Uchiha have awakened it; you can count them on one hand. Mangekyo grants access to unimaginable power surpassing ordinary Sharingan."
"Control over Kyuubi?"
"Not just that. I got the ultimate genjutsu technique—Kotoamatsukami. I can implant any thought in a person, and they'll accept it as their own. No need to even make eye contact."
"You want to catch father in this technique?"
"Yes. And I wanted to ask your permission."
"My permission?"
Shisui looked him in the eyes.
"It's your father. That's the only thing holding me back."
"Don't worry about it," Itachi replied quickly.
Preventing the rebellion—that was most important. And father... He'd never been close enough to him. Sasuke must have been jealous of father toward him; from the outside, it seemed Fugaku paid the eldest son much more attention. But that was only on the surface. Itachi mattered to father only as a means, a tool. A link between the Uchiha and the village.
"Shisui. How did you awaken Mangekyo?"
His friend lowered his eyes. He had been expecting this question.
"It's not something pleasant to remember, you know. You know how ordinary Sharingan awakens, right?"
Itachi knew. Intense emotional pain caused, say, by the death of a loved one. But then... what kind of pain awakens Mangekyo?
"I killed my best friend."
Shisui's words dissolved in the waterfall's roar, not sticking in his mind, as if they made no sense.
What is he talking about?
But Shisui was completely serious.
"It happened shortly before we met. Back in the academy, I met a kid. After graduation, we ended up on the same team, fought together, shoulder to shoulder. He was someone I could truly call a friend," Shisui faltered. "But you know, not even a year passed..."
Something cold and slimy coiled in his chest. Itachi realized he didn't want to hear the continuation, but his own curiosity wouldn't let him interrupt Shisui's story.
"At that time, missions were much harsher than now. We were on assignment with a few other teams and ended up in another country. We got really unlucky. We ran into enemies—far more than we could handle. It was certain death, but luckily, some of our comrades we'd split from earlier found us. They saved me, but my friend didn't make it in time. If only I'd reached him—he'd have lived."
A few moments—just a matter of luck. Shisui was blaming himself in vain.
"You're not to blame..." Itachi began.
"No," Shisui interrupted harshly. "I envied him. He was more talented than me, always pulling ahead, and... That time I could have saved him if I'd just reached out properly. But I deliberately didn't. I killed him."
Itachi suddenly realized he'd never truly known this man with the tired face sitting next to him now, hugging his knees and sadly gazing at the waterfall. He was stunned by Shisui's confession. Itachi hadn't even suspected such darkness slumbered in his friend's heart.
But Shisui spoke again:
"For months, I couldn't pull myself together. Realizing I'd killed my friend nearly destroyed me completely. Then I met you. Every day I watched you train: so small and determined. And one day I talked to you—I don't know what made me. You brought me back to life, Itachi. Spending time with you, I put myself back together piece by piece. And I'm truly grateful to you."
"I'm the grateful one," Itachi thought.
"That power... It's not worth it, you know. I see how you look at me since that mission with Mukai. You're a little envious, right?"
"I..." Itachi faltered.
Shisui was right. He really dreamed of such power.
"I'm just weak. I realize my uselessness..."
"You don't need it," Shisui interrupted. "You'll reach the top without it. You don't even know what it's like. Believe me, Itachi, you don't need Mangekyo."
"I understand," Itachi forced out dully.
Shisui smiled faintly. In the twilight, his face looked even more tired.
"Don't go to the meeting tomorrow."
"What? But father..."
"Make something up. Say you're on a mission. You can't show up at the shrine tomorrow. When your father announces there's no uprising—something terrible will start, and if you're there, the radicals... I'm afraid they'll attack you. They'll surely think you're involved."
"If they attack, I'll fight."
"Understand me correctly, Itachi. They don't have a chance against you, but such a serious brawl will undermine the whole point of the meeting."
"So you'll subdue my father and give the Uchiha a new direction?"
"Exactly."
"Can I help with anything?"
"Just don't come to the meeting. Wait for me here."
Shisui stood up, gripped his shoulders firmly, and looked into his eyes:
"It will definitely work, you hear? We'll give a chance to those against the uprising, lure them to our side, and the clan will have its shot."
"Forgive me. At such a crucial moment, I'm useless."
His friend's fingers tightened.
"Don't think like that. Our real battle only begins tomorrow."
"What?! Do you even realize what tomorrow means?"
Sarada bolted upright in bed. Grandfather's furious yell made the walls hum.
"What mission is this?!"
There was a quiet rustle in the corridor. Dad had woken up. Sarada sensed his presence: Sasuke quietly slipped toward Father's room, where the elders were conferring. Grandfather stopped shouting; the quiet voices were now indistinguishable. Sarada pulled the blanket up to her chin and stared at the ceiling. Loneliness pressed in from the empty room's corners.
She sighed.
Arguing again.
Once more in the stuffy, dim hall with people discussing the forbidden. Sarada had long stopped enjoying the meetings. Her pathological sense of propriety itched every time the Uchiha started talking about the uprising. She felt like a criminal. She wanted to scream every time: "Stop!" It just wasn't right... Within Konoha, discussing the upcoming murder of key Leaf internal defense shinobi, the kidnapping of the Hokage, warehouse seizures...
This was betrayal.
She couldn't look the villagers in the eye: Shinko, Naruto, even the market vendors. Because at night, when the peaceful residents of the Hidden Leaf went to bed—she went to the meeting and listened to the Uchiha discuss rebellion. She knew a revolution was being prepared. She knew, looked Naruto in the eye, and stayed silent. This was betrayal of the village. But telling anyone would be betrayal of the clan. A no-win situation.
Why couldn't they live in peace? Why couldn't they do everything right?!
She wanted to stand up and scold the whole clan, like she scolded Nanadaime Hokage and Sasuke, but these people weren't kids—they were adults, and her word meant nothing. Itachi and Shisui were trying to stop this madness, but this was the day they'd finally announce the uprising's date, and there'd be no turning back.
Grandfather entered, Grandmother with him. She'd never come to meetings before, but today she did—for some reason. Uncle still wasn't there. Probably why Grandfather, already grim, was especially sullen.
Mission... That's why they shouted last night. Grandfather insisted Uncle come to the meeting.
Candles burned in the hall's corners. Grandfather went to his usual spot and knelt. The meeting was about to start. The door behind creaked open, and with a fresh draft, late Shisui quietly slipped into the temple. He didn't push forward to his seat but dropped onto the tatami mat next to Sarada—onto the last free patch of floor. The meeting was packed today.
"Hi," Shisui whispered quickly, leaning slightly toward her.
Sarada nodded. They sat almost pressed together, elbows touching; the meeting hall was that crowded. Her heart suddenly calmed, like those moments with grown-up Nanadaime Hokage. Sarada looked at Shisui and her uncle, gradually realizing every era had its heroes. Those others would follow in tough times; those you could rely on and wanted to trust. In her modern day—it was Nanadaime Hokage. Here, in the past—Itachi and Shisui. But Shisui resembled the Seventh more: cheerful yet serious; full of light he didn't hide.
The steady murmur faded under the clan head's heavy gaze. Grandfather cleared his throat and stood.
Here we go. It's starting.
"I greet you, my brothers... and sisters."
There were unusually many women this time, mothers who'd left service for family but kept meeting attendance rights.
"Today is a decisive day for the Uchiha clan."
The hall buzzed approvingly.
"You've had time to think it over, weigh it, and decide how we move forward."
More approving voices. Sarada noticed how tightly Shisui clenched his fists. He was very tense.
"And I've had time too," Grandfather continued. "I am head of the Military Police and leader of the Uchiha, responsible for the clan's well-being, glory, and safety. The Leaf's attitude has troubled us for ages. They've sidelined us, pushed us to the village edge; we live in isolation, and Konoha doesn't trust us. You're rightfully outraged, and so am I. That's why we've gathered for a coup—to end the Uchiha oppression and remind the Leaf how great our clan is!"
The meeting roared furiously.
"However... After due reflection, I've concluded this path is false."
The Uchiha fell silent in confusion. The temple went quiet. You could hear the heavy breathing of those nearby, who, like Sarada herself, were stifling in the heat.
"What do you mean, Taicho?" Yashiro asked warily.
"I'll explain now, Yashiro."
Tension hung in the stuffy air.
"Civil war could turn against us. We're strong, but against the whole village, we could lose many of ours, and when we finally control the Leaf—it'll be too weak against external threats. Konoha will fall. And with it, the Uchiha."
Sarada's heart raced joyfully: Grandfather was finally saying what she'd longed to hear.
But how? Had Uncle convinced him last night? Unbelievable...
"Captain..."
"I've weighed it all and decided. As Uchiha head—I can't allow the clan's destruction. I oppose the coup. That's my word. Friends, who agrees? Raise your hands."
The hall stayed still.
"Fear nothing. That's the point of these meetings—for every Uchiha to voice their opinion and be heard. You risk nothing. I personally guarantee your safety."
A hesitant hand rose from the crowd. Then another. And another.
Sarada wanted to vote too, but Shisui's hand suddenly covered hers. Such a broad, warm palm. He forbade her—who knows why—but Sarada got the hint and didn't raise it. Shisui didn't hurry to remove his hand, as if fearing the "spy" would disobey.
"Captain," Yashiro gritted through clenched teeth. "What does this mean?"
"I said what I think," Fugaku replied icily. "I understand your outrage, but you're hot-headed. Many of you are young. Your passion and thirst for justice earn respect, but I can't let you risk everything: our brothers' lives, our children's future. My son serves in Anbu. Yes, I wanted him as the Uchiha's eyes and ears. But Anbu accepted him well unexpectedly. If he embeds in the village heart, he can gradually pull in more of ours, and we'll break isolation."
"Your son... You talk about him a lot, Captain. But in six months, he's given us nothing new. And now... With all respect, Taicho, it feels like he 'straightened your brains.' You're starting to sound like Itachi," Yashiro spat with hatred.
It got very quiet. The Uchiha awaited the outcome with bated breath. No one voted anymore; Shisui released Sarada's hands, but she unexpectedly grabbed his palm. Suspicions aside, they hadn't returned to that talk, and Sarada had grown attached to Uncle's friend without realizing. She was scared. She couldn't see Shisui's face and feared looking up. But Shisui's fingers squeezed hers back firmly. He understood she sought support.
"You—o," Fugaku drawled, then bellowed suddenly: "What are you flapping your tongue about? You think I have no head on my shoulders?!"
Sarada flinched, ducking her head. She already feared Grandfather, but in anger, he was terrifying.
"You say you want to protect our clan," Inabi interjected. "But your weakness only aids its decay. If we don't show the village teeth—the Uchiha will degenerate into powerless bastards. Like..."
He faltered.
"Like who?" Fugaku asked solicitously. "You meant 'like my son'? Or maybe like me?"
Inabi stayed silent. Clearly that's what he meant but caught himself.
"All key plan stages involve Itachi and Uchiha Shisui. And me. No whiff of you. So before throwing words, Inabi, look at yourself. And think who you dare call weak."
Inabi didn't reply. Yashiro spoke again:
"Speaking of your son. Is Uchiha Itachi here?"
The temple answered silence.
"Uchiha... Itachi!"
Yashiro's roar echoed from the corners. The man stood and turned, scanning for Itachi.
"Where's that pup?"
"You're speaking of my son!" Fugaku emphasized.
"Enough lecturing us, Captain, and boasting about your son," Tekka cut in. "Yes, the boy's talented. But he's clearly on the village's side. And now..."
"Tekka!"
"...it feels like he swayed you too."
"What do you think you're doing? Have your brains melted?!" Fugaku roared angrily, flashing activated Sharingan.
Sarada trembled. She felt the police officers might lunge at Grandfather any moment, starting a fight. But Shisui beside her was confident and focused. She squeezed his hand tighter.
Everything will be fine. Really, it'll be okay.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan