The road stretched silent beneath the stars.
Itachi's sandals touched stone and earth without sound, each step measured, each breath slow and even. His cloak swayed gently, the stitched red clouds almost lost in the night. Two eyes, both dark and sharp, remained half-lidded, but they missed nothing. The owls that shifted on branches, the subtle step of a deer in the brush, the faint rustle of wind through tall grass — all of it registered, calculated, dismissed.
He moved like a shadow that the world had long since learned to ignore.
But the silence of the forest could not mute the echo in his mind.
Sasuke.
The boy's face, lit faintly by moonlight, lingered behind his eyelids — the stubborn determination etched into his features. For a moment on that river rock, Itachi had seen more than a child. He had seen a thread — Mikoto's will, his clan's blood, the fragile yet unbreakable hope that had survived when all else was ash.
Itachi allowed himself no softness as he walked. His expression remained the same perfect mask it always was. But his heart — that was another matter.
He buried it. Buried everything. Because the Akatsuki awaited. And the mask he wore among them had to be flawless.
By the time the moon had risen to its peak, the forest road widened into a clearing between ridges of stone. The air shifted. A pressure. A presence.
They were waiting.
One by one, cloaked figures emerged from the darkness, their red clouds swallowing starlight. Some appeared from the trees, others from shadows deeper still. And at the center, two presences heavier than the rest.
Rinnegan.
The rippled eyes glowed faintly violet, set in the face of the Deva Path. At his side, blue hair glimmered with a paper flower — Konan, expression unreadable as ever.
The Akatsuki had gathered.
Itachi stopped at the edge of the circle. He neither bowed nor lowered his gaze. Uchiha bowed to no one. Instead, he inclined his head a fraction — just enough to acknowledge.
"You return," Pain said, voice calm yet resonant, carrying command like a blade carries an edge.
"As expected," Itachi replied.
Another sound entered then — the clank of heavy steel. A broad man stepped forward, shoulders squared, shark-toothed grin sharp beneath a mane of wild hair. The Kubikiribōchō was strapped to his back, its massive edge catching stray moonlight.
"Jūzō Biwa," Pain said, gaze moving between the two. "From now, you will work alongside Itachi. Partners."
Jūzō looked him over, grin widening. "So this is the butcher of the Uchiha clan? Hn. Smaller than I expected. Hope you cut deeper than you look."
Itachi's eyes regarded him coolly. He did not answer. Silence was a sharper weapon than words, and it disarmed more than boasting ever could.
Konan's paper wings shifted faintly, but she said nothing. Pain's gaze lingered only a moment longer. "Your strength will serve Akatsuki better together. Do not fail."
Jūzō chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "Fine. As long as he doesn't get in my way."
"I will complete what is required," Itachi said, tone level, words chosen with surgical precision.
Pain studied him for a long breath, Rinnegan unreadable. Then a single nod. "Dismissed."
But before the circle could break, another voice slid into the air, slow and heavy with mockery.
"My, my… what a waste."
Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed as he slithered forward. His smile was thin, stretched, his words soft as venom. "Pairing Itachi with a brute like Biwa? Leader, surely you see it. He deserves better."
His tongue flicked across his lips as he turned toward Itachi. "Imagine it, Itachi. You and I — partners. Think of the doors we could open. The knowledge we could claim. This organization limits you… but with me, there would be no limits."
The silence thickened. Even Jūzō's grin twitched.
Orochimaru's voice dropped lower, almost intimate. "Power without end, Itachi. All you need do is accept."
But Itachi's face remained carved stone. Not a glance. Not a word. His silence cut deeper than any refusal.
Orochimaru's grin faltered for half a heartbeat before sliding back in place, brittle around the edges. "So cold," he murmured, chuckling thinly. "No matter. Even the strongest doors open… eventually."
Pain's eyes shifted. "Enough."
Orochimaru retreated, his smile intact, his pride bleeding beneath it.
The gathering dissolved after that. Cloaks bled into shadows. Konan's wings scattered to paper. Pain vanished like smoke.
Only two remained.
From the dark at the clearing's edge, a figure emerged. Masked, spirals twisting inward to a single eyehole. Behind it, a Sharingan burned red.
Madara.
"You've been gone," Madara said lightly. Too lightly.
"You watch too closely," Itachi replied.
"Of course I do." Madara's steps were slow, deliberate, circling like a wolf. "An asset like you disappears. No trace. Not even Zetsu could follow. That is not neglect, Itachi… that is intent. And intent demands answers."
His masked head tilted. "Where did you go?"
Itachi's expression did not shift. His voice was flat stone. "Irrelevant."
Madara chuckled, but the sound was thin. "Irrelevant? Everything about you is relevant. Because everything about you bends the balance of this world."
He took one step closer. "You didn't vanish for ghosts. Ghosts don't hold you. Blood does."
A silence settled between them, thick as iron.
"Sasuke," Madara said at last, the word like a knife in the dark. "Where is he?"
Itachi's Sharingan spun, Mangekyō blooming in a flare of crimson light. His voice, when it came, cracked the air like a death sentence.
"Alive."
The word wasn't revelation. It was confirmation. And it carried the weight of finality.
Madara leaned forward, the single eye in his mask narrowing. "Alive, yes. Hidden. So deeply hidden that even Zetsu's roots cannot touch him. That… is impressive."
His voice sharpened, blade-thin. "But do you think you can bury him forever? Do you believe your silence, your shadows, can shield him from me? You know I cannot touch him now. Our pact binds me. But bonds fray. Oaths snap. And curiosity…" He paused, letting the word bleed venom. "…curiosity is eternal."
Itachi's Mangekyō glowed brighter, the red burning against the night. "If curiosity ever becomes more than words, then you will cease to exist."
Madara stilled. The silence that followed was suffocating, as though the trees themselves bent under its weight.
Finally, he laughed — but it was a hollow laugh, edged with hunger. "You speak as if death could reach me. As if I were just another name to erase. But I am not a man, Itachi. I am the remnant of fire that refused to die, the shadow that survived its own burning. Men perish. I endure."
"You endure," Itachi replied, his voice low, each syllable sharp as glass, "because no one has yet been willing to cut deep enough."
Madara's eye gleamed. "And you would be the one to try?"
"If your hand so much as grazes Sasuke's fate, you won't have the chance to regret it. I will be there before the thought completes itself."
Madara tilted his head, his tone mockingly curious. "So protective. So devoted. It almost sounds like fear. Do you fear losing him, Itachi? Or do you fear that once he stands, he will look at you… and see you for what you are?"
The Mangekyō's glow deepened, its pattern etched into the night. "I fear nothing. But I will not allow you to test me. Try… and your eternity ends with me."
Madara was quiet for a long moment, then whispered, almost tender: "How fascinating. You would even threaten me to protect him. But do not forget, Itachi — you are dying by the day. Your body rots while mine persists. When your flame burns out, your brother will still be there… and so will I. I can wait longer than you can breathe."
Itachi's voice was colder than steel. "Then I will make certain that when my breath ends, your patience ends with it."
The two stared, unmoving, each word a blade pressed deeper into the other's throat.
At last, Madara leaned back, retreating into shadow. His eye narrowed, its glow the last ember in the spiral. "Very well. Keep your secret. Keep your little brother hidden. For now. But hear this, Itachi: as long as you stand, I cannot use Sasuke. You are the flaw in my design. The thorn that festers. And thorns… are plucked."
Space twisted. The masked figure unraveled into nothing, leaving the taste of rust in the air.
Itachi stood unmoving. He hadn't won. He hadn't survived. He had only bought time.
But time was enough.
Above, a murder of crows burst into the sky, scattering like shards of black glass. Itachi stepped forward, cloak swaying, his eyes vanishing beneath the tilt of his hat.
The road stretched on. And he walked it alone.
**End of chapter 15**