The mist rolled across the clearing like a living thing, silver-gray under the pale moon. A dozen shadows emerged, long cloaks swaying, red clouds etched in dark fabric. The Akatsuki had gathered.
Itachi stood among them, calm as stone, his expression unreadable. His eyes, dark at first, swept the circle without hurry.
At the center, the Deva Path of Pain raised his head. The Rinnegan glimmered faintly in the moonlight. Beside him, Konan's blue hair fell around her face, a paper flower pinned neatly in place.
"Another mission," Pain's voice carried evenly, cutting through the night. "Information is power. And power is what we will continue to take."
Before the instructions could continue, a voice slithered into the air — smooth, mocking, almost playful.
"Well, well…" Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed as he turned toward Itachi, tongue flicking against his lips. "The prodigy of the Uchiha clan. Such strength, such composure. Don't you think, Itachi… you and I would make far better partners than with anyone else here?"
A hush settled over the circle. Kisame was not yet among them, Hidan had not joined, and so Orochimaru's attempt stood out like a snake hissing in the silence.
Jūzō Biwa, standing near Itachi with the massive Decapitating Carving Knife strapped across his back, gave a low chuckle. "Heh. Trying to steal him already?"
Itachi didn't move. His face betrayed nothing. He neither answered nor spared Orochimaru a glance. Silence was his weapon, and in that silence, Orochimaru's words curled and withered like smoke.
Orochimaru's grin twitched, thinly stretched. His eyes lingered on Itachi, searching for weakness, for acknowledgment, and found none. The Uchiha's indifference cut deeper than a blade.
Konan's paper wings rustled faintly, her voice cool. "Enough. Your ambitions can wait, Orochimaru. Pain is speaking."
Pain's gaze flickered across them all, unmoved. "There is a scroll in the possession of a border settlement. An emissary is carrying it under Mist protection. Retrieve it. Jūzō Biwa, Itachi Uchiha — you will go."
"Understood," Itachi said flatly.
Jūzō gave a small shrug, grinning. "Fine by me."
Pain turned, the Rinnegan unblinking. "Do not fail."
Konan lifted her hand. Sheets of paper unfolded from her sleeve, scattering into the night like a thousand white wings. They twisted into a single paper bird, which hovered, waiting for orders. Her calm eyes settled on Itachi and Jūzō before turning away.
The meeting ended. Cloaks dissolved into the darkness, one by one, until only whispers of movement remained. Orochimaru lingered a moment longer, his golden gaze still on Itachi, but when no reaction came, he melted into shadow with a quiet laugh.
---
The road into the Land of Water was quiet, broken only by the crunch of gravel beneath sandals and the faint scrape of steel as Jūzō adjusted the massive blade on his back.
"You're a strange one, Uchiha," Jūzō finally said, glancing sideways. "Cold as ice. Don't you ever get tired of carrying yourself like a ghost?"
No answer. Only silence, the kind that stretched and weighed heavy.
Jūzō laughed. "Heh. Figures." His voice dropped, more serious now. "Tell me something, though. You ever hear of Might Guy?"
At that, Itachi's gaze shifted just slightly. "I only know of him."
Jūzō's grin widened. "Then let me tell you something funny. His old man, Might Duy — the so-called 'Eternal Genin' — once cut down seven of us. The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. You know how many of us walked away? Three."
His hand tapped the handle of his sword. "The rest… gone. Just like that."
The mist thickened around them as his voice lowered. "He used some kind of forbidden technique. A power that burned brighter than anything I've ever seen. I don't know what it was called, but when I saw it, I thought the world itself was going to split apart. Red flames wrapping his body… strikes so fast even our blades couldn't stop them. He wasn't supposed to be anyone. Just a nobody genin. But he tore through legends like paper."
He let out a breath, almost a laugh. "He's dead now, of course. That kind of power eats the body alive. But… I'll never forget it. The night seven became three."
Itachi's expression didn't change, but his eyes lowered briefly, thoughtful. Then he walked on without a word.
"Tch," Jūzō smirked. "Figures. Nothing surprises you, huh?"
The two moved in silence as the mist grew heavier.
---
By nightfall, they reached the border village. The emissary had already taken refuge inside a guarded compound, Mist shinobi stationed along the walls.
Jūzō leaned his massive sword against his shoulder, grinning. "Looks like we've got company."
Itachi's Mangekyō flickered for a brief instant, then faded. "Keep it quiet. We're not here to waste time."
The ambush was swift. Crows scattered in a flurry of wings as illusions blanketed the guards. Their eyes glazed, trapped in endless spirals of genjutsu. Silent strikes followed — quick, efficient. Within minutes, the compound lay still, its defenders unconscious on the ground.
The emissary trembled, clutching the scroll. "P-please… don't—"
His words cut off as the scroll slipped from his hands, lifted by a thousand sharp sheets of paper. Konan stepped into view, her paper wings unfolding behind her like the petals of a deadly flower.
"No need to beg," she said calmly. "Your purpose was only ever the scroll."
The papers swirled, wrapping the scroll tight before pulling it back into her grasp. She nodded once at Itachi and Jūzō. "Efficient. Pain will be satisfied."
Without another word, she dissolved into drifting sheets of paper, scattering into the wind.
Jūzō exhaled, resting the great blade across his shoulders. "Hn. Guess that's that."
Itachi turned away, his face unreadable as ever. "The mission is over."
---
Far above, unseen in the shifting mist, two presences lingered.
A mask, orange with a single swirling eyehole. A single Sharingan gleaming red within.
Madara.
Beside him, Black Zetsu's ink-like form shifted along the branches, eyes glinting.
"They performed well," Zetsu murmured. "Even Orochimaru holds his tongue in front of Pain. But his desire for the Uchiha… it's dangerous. Even though he is a Sannin, he is trying to bite off more than he can chew."
Madara chuckled softly behind the mask. "Orochimaru is predictable. His hunger will consume him long before it threatens me."
Zetsu's gaze turned downward, toward the fading figures of Itachi and Jūzō. "You truly value these Akatsuki, don't you? Even Jūzō."
Madara's single eye narrowed. "Of course. Every piece has its place. A structure collapses when even one stone is ignored. They all matter."
There was a pause. Then Zetsu's voice dropped, curious. "But then… why this obsession with Sasuke? You already have Itachi — strong, loyal, bound to your pact. Why is Sasuke more important?"
The air seemed to still.
Madara's Sharingan gleamed faintly, almost burning in the spiral mask. "Because my instincts tell me. Sasuke is more than just another Uchiha. He is… inevitable. His path will shape what is to come, more than even Itachi's. I don't need proof. I can feel it in my very blood."
Zetsu tilted his head. "So you'll watch from the shadows, and wait?"
A low chuckle. "Yes. For now. Itachi hides him well, but no mask lasts forever. When the time comes, Sasuke will walk the road I need him to… whether Itachi wills it or not."
The mist stirred, and with a subtle distortion of space, the masked figure vanished into the void. Zetsu melted into the ground after him, leaving the clearing empty save for the drifting fog and the faint echo of unseen laughter.
---
On the ground below, Itachi paused. His head tilted slightly, as though he had felt the disturbance in the air. His eyes narrowed, Mangekyō glimmering briefly before fading back into darkness.
Then, without a word, he walked on. The road into the Land of Water stretched ahead, and the mission was far from over.
**End of chapter 16**