Itachi opened the scroll. There was no way he'd pass up an opportunity to gather intelligence; it was crucial for establishing his footing in the Akatsuki and learning more about the legendary—and apparently very much not dead, Emiya Shirou.
The contents were somewhat unexpected, or perhaps not unexpected at all. It was a detailed file on Obito Uchiha, including his Mangekyo Sharingan ability and his Wood Style kekkei genkai.
To put it bluntly, after reading the scroll, Itachi's wariness of the man certainly increased, but the mystique was gone. Once you have the intelligence, it's only a matter of time before you find a counter.
"Don't let him have it too easy," Shirou said, his voice calm and utterly devoid of human feeling. He didn't even look at Itachi. "Let the people from Konoha teach him a lesson. Black Zetsu really dislikes Obito, and I want to help it vent some anger."
His tone was flat, almost robotic. "Although I don't like you, I can only entrust this mission to you. Don't let anyone else know."
"Why me?" Itachi asked after a moment of silence, his face growing serious. "I highly suspect you're trying to stir up trouble between me and Obito Uchiha."
"No need to suspect," Shirou replied without a change in expression, never one to deny his own intentions. "In the future, I will still need you to help me monitor him."
"You dislike me very much," Itachi stated, his grip tightening on the scroll. He pressed on, "Frankly, I have no reason to serve you in this. Don't you suspect I might just tell Obito about this?"
"Newcomer," Shirou's eyes lifted, his flat voice now tinged with an unquestionable coldness that echoed in Itachi's ears. "Who gave you the illusion that you can defy my orders in the Akatsuki?"
Itachi's expression faltered. He'd almost forgotten. He was a member of the Akatsuki now.
His luck, it seemed, was neither good nor bad. He was now officially caught in the crossfire of an internal power struggle between Obito and Emiya Shirou.
But... this might not be a bad thing.
His mind began to race. Shirou's tyrannical attitude aside, his conflict with Obito could be beneficial to Konoha. He could even add a little fuel to the fire himself.
"I will complete the mission," Itachi said, his decision made.
"Is that so?" Shirou's eyes lowered, a faint, mocking smile on his lips as if he'd seen right through him. "It seems you Konoha ninjas always have your little schemes, self-righteously thinking your vision is more long-term than anyone else's."
"Hashirama Senju was like that, thinking the peace he established could be eternal. Back then, Madara never agreed with his style of sacrificing everything for Konoha. We all believed that Hashirama's will would one day give birth to Konoha's darkness."
"I wouldn't dare," Itachi's heart sank.
"But... I'm not much better," Shirou's voice suddenly turned self-deprecating. He then offered some soft praise for Tobirama Senju. "Perhaps your Second Hokage had a more long-term vision than his older brother."
Itachi felt that Shirou might have praised the wrong person. Within the Uchiha clan, Tobirama, the man who had established the Military Police Force and effectively isolated the Uchiha from Konoha's center of power, had a notoriously bad reputation.
It was his actions that had prevented the Uchiha from ever truly integrating, leading to the internal conflicts that had once put Konoha in grave danger.
"It sounds like," Itachi said, his hand tightening on the scroll as he asked with feigned nonchalance, "you and the Second Hokage had a good relationship."
"No," Shirou stated flatly. "My relationship with him was not good. I even loathed him, which is why I chose the Akatsuki's plan. But your appearance has proven my past mistake."
He glanced at Itachi. "When I was resurrected back then, I once told Tobirama that the ancestors of the Uchiha and Senju were brothers, and that brothers should live in harmony. However, he stubbornly believed that the Uchiha's extreme nature made them unable to integrate into Konoha."
"Now, from you, the murderer who chose to annihilate his clan for power, I seem to feel Tobirama mocking me, an old fossil from the ancient era, for being so blind and naive. That's why every time I see you, I don't like you. I even feel some disgust."
A sharp pain shot through Itachi's heart.
So that's how it was... Is this the feeling of being played by fate?
Shirou was right, and Tobirama was wrong. But his own actions as a clan-killer had reversed that truth, making him the living proof of Tobirama's prejudice.
He, who had hoped for the Uchiha to integrate, had become the model for why they couldn't. The irony was agonizing.
Fate itself seemed to mock him.
And the worst part was, he couldn't explain. He had to suppress his true feelings, forcing himself to play the part. The only thing he could do was apologize.
"Sorry," he said, lowering his head slightly. "I didn't know all this."
The crimson in his eyes swirled with suppressed emotion—shame, goodwill towards Shirou, his own past pain and struggle. His eyes began to sting with bloody tears.
"It doesn't matter. I don't care anymore," Shirou waved his hand, his voice once again unperturbed. "Now, I will make good use of you, an Uchiha who would do anything for power. I can promise you this: as long as you obey my will, I will guarantee your younger brother's safety before he awakens his Mangekyo Sharingan."
"No one will be able to harm him before then. But I will not guarantee that you will be the last one to obtain the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan. If you are willing, then go and carry out the mission."
"Yes," Itachi knelt on one knee. He destroyed the scroll in his hand, and his figure melted into the moonlit night. All his thoughts were suppressed. He knew the danger, and he knew why Shirou loathed him, but the man's promise was exactly what he wanted most.
Tap...
Tap... tap...
The sound of a pen tapping on a scroll filled the night. Shirou hadn't even looked in the direction Itachi had gone. He was already back to his work, but on his scroll were no longer medical cases.
It was a complex web of names, connected by fine lines. Many names were circled—Black Zetsu's in pitch-black, Kakuzu's, Nagato's, and Konan's in emerald-green.
"Good," Shirou calmly drew a red circle around Itachi's name and connected it to Obito's.
-----
On the other side, Kakashi's team was closing in. Kurenai, the team's sensory ninja, raised her fingers, her mind focused.
"Did you find them?" Kakashi asked, a sense of unease growing. Their advance had been too smooth.
"!!!" Kurenai's face suddenly changed. "It might be... enemy reinforcements." She could sense two chakras rapidly approaching.
"They're here!" Might Guy produced a pair of nunchaku and launched a kick towards the sky, his combat instincts terrifyingly sharp. A man wearing a mask appeared in their field of vision. Guy's kick passed right through him as if he were air.
"Huh? What's going on?" Guy was surprised but not discouraged.
His body twisted in mid-air, and he swept his leg towards the masked man again. "Konoha Great Whirlwind!" Miss. He followed up with a continuous barrage of kicks. "Konoha Strong Fist Whirlwind!"
Even the mysterious masked man looked on with a kind of weary silence, seemingly unable to comprehend the sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm of a man who kept trying to kick something that wasn't there.
But it was over.
Guy landed on the ground, a look of self-doubt on his face.
"It seems he cannot hit his body," Kakashi mused, his mind racing.
Another tricky enemy?
"Sharingan!" he shouted, his own slowly revealing itself from under his headband. "The other party has the Sharingan! Everyone be careful, don't look directly into his eyes!"
He drew a kunai. "Your Excellency, who might you be? Did you steal the Uchiha's Sharingan?"
"Hmph," the masked man let out a contemptuous cold snort, too lazy to answer or even mock him. He dodged Kakashi's kunai and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying.
"Wood Style: Great Forest Technique!" Tenzo's hands flew through seals, and wooden branches shot from his arms towards the masked man. But they passed through empty air.
"Hmph," the masked man leaped back onto a tree trunk, looking down on them with contempt.
"Can't hit him," Tenzo said, a drop of sweat running down his forehead. "He doesn't seem to be solid."
"He is solid," Kakashi said, flipping back to his feet. "But the opportunity is very brief."
After all, he himself had been hit.
"Then that makes it easy!" Guy's confident smile returned, his teeth sparkling. "As long as he's solid, I can definitely hit him!"
"Don't be rash," Kakashi warned. "Our goal is to rescue our ninja, not defeat this unknown enemy." He turned to Kurenai. "Can you sense which direction our target is in?"
"But..." Kurenai's voice became faintly difficult.
"Long time no see."
A polite voice appeared in their ears. Thirteen-year-old Itachi Uchiha walked out from the depths of the forest, his crimson eyes appearing from the darkness, as terrifying as a demon walking out of hell.
"Uchiha... Itachi!"
All the Konoha ninjas present were shocked to their core.