I chose the place for its neutrality: a S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse converted into a rooftop garden above Midtown, far enough from the street for privacy but not ostentatious enough to invite spectacle. The portal from Konoha closed behind us with the same soft hush it always did, leaving only the city's noise and the faint scent of gasoline on the wind.
I walked out of the swirl of air wearing the Hokage robe—white fabric falling like a quiet halo around my shoulders, the red kanji on the hat catching the sun at odd angles. (It matched the portrait I'd seen of myself: delicate features under a hood, expressions that kept their meaning to themselves.) The robe told a story before I spoke: a leader, a judge, a god among men. At my flank moved five of my best ANBU—silent, masked, and deliberately visible. They were not an ostentation. They were a line drawn in the dirt.
Nick Fury waited beneath a trimmed ginkgo tree, one eye ringed by a leather patch and a posture that betrayed a man who had been surprised far too many times to be surprised now. He didn't rush a handshake. He didn't smile. He measured.
"You must be Itachi," he said. His voice was dry, practical. Years of seeing strange things had taught him to treat miracles like mechanics—useful if you understood how they worked.
"I am," I answered. My words were soft enough to be private, flat enough to be unreadable. "Thank you for meeting me, Director Fury."
He regarded my entourage. "You brought company."
"They are my guard," I said simply. "My presence here is not a performance. I travel with security."
Fury's one good eye flicked from my face to the ANBU and back again. "Practical," he conceded. "This garden's secure. Cameras are looped. Minimal ambient tech to muddle the senses. So—let's talk."
We sat at a small stone table. Coulson hovered at Fury's shoulder like a shadow made patient. The breeze moved the hem of my robe; I kept my hands visible on the table, palms down, to show I did not intend to hide a weapon. That too was theater. Theater with purpose.
"I'll be direct," Fury said. "S.H.I.E.L.D. knows there are things we can't reverse-engineer, people we can't recruit, and threats we can't see coming. We cut deals to keep the peace. You want something from our world. What exactly does Konoha need?"
I considered the question the way I considered everything—coolly, in steps. I did not list desires in the raw. I framed them as necessities.
"Research materials, medical tech, and access to resources that will allow Konoha to survive threats beyond any single world," I said. "In return: information about threats you consider dangerous, tactical support, and selective training for your agents in techniques suited to covert operations. We will trade—equipment and knowledge from your world for resources, technology, and sanctuary channels that benefit both parties."
Fury's jaw tightened at the word trade. "Sounds simple until someone tries to take more than they give. S.H.I.E.L.D. has protocols. We don't hand out tech without oversight. We don't let foreign operatives operate with impunity. How do I know you won't go rogue, take what you want, and vanish?"
I let the faintest shadow of my past life touch my tone. "You're pragmatic. So am I. I have lived by bargains and consequences. I won't hide what I intend to do, nor will I fail to show you the costs if betrayal occurs." My eyes did not flinch. "If S.H.I.E.L.D. betrays our agreement, you will not merely lose a contract. You will lose assets and personnel in ways you cannot attribute cleanly to us—and that will be your choice. Consider this a mutual deterrent. We both stand to lose more than we should."
Fury's mouth twitched. "That threat was not subtle."
"It was meant to be clear." I spoke the truth; that mattered. Threats that were clear could be mediated. Threats whispered in shadow left room for accidents and mistakes. I preferred a straight line.
He watched me for a long moment. Then he reached into his jacket and set a small, well-used data-slate on the table. "We'll draft terms. You get a base and an authorized liaison. We get first refusal on tech that could be used as weapons—high-explosive, dimensional, or biotech. We get access to controlled demonstrations of your capabilities so we can catalog them. You get medical support, limited R&D access, and facilitated procurement channels. If you help us with a crisis, you get a commission and preferential trade. No public exposure, no unilateral operations in territories we monitor."
I listened, parsing every clause in the silence between his words. Each concession he offered was a lever I could use. Each condition was a measurement of his trust.
"You will have access," I said slowly, "provided S.H.I.E.L.D. respects the sanctity of our people and our sovereignty. We do not bargain our secrets carelessly. Any exchange will be logged and approved by both parties. Our liaison will be Kabuto. He will coordinate with your field operative—Coulson will do."
Fury's gaze hardened at the name, then softened in a way I suspected only another leader could see. "Coulson knows how to handle weird. Kabuto… fine. One liaison. Limited ops. You get medical aid, but we keep oversight on experimental projects. And one more thing: no meddling with Avengers business unless they ask."
"Agreed," I said. There was an implied subtext—I would not challenge the Avengers openly. Not yet. Stability served my purpose.
The handshake we exchanged afterward was almost perfunctory. There was no warmth there, but there was a contract formed in measured words and tested nerves. Coulson offered a small, human smile; Fury did not. He did, however, give me one last look as we stood.
"You learn quick," he said. "Don't make me regret trusting you."
"You would do well to remember that anyone who underestimates me learns very slowly," I replied. It was a warning wrapped in a promise: I would be precise, efficient, and, if need be, remorseless.
We left the garden soon after. The ANBU fell into formation—their presence a constant promise of consequence. As the portal prepared to take us back, I allowed myself one small calculation: S.H.I.E.L.D. would be useful; Fury more so than he meant to be. This alliance would give me what I needed for Konoha—and in time, the leverage to gather power from countless worlds.
Back in the Hokage tower, as the city of leaves and lanterns rose beneath the moon, I cataloged the terms in the system. Fury had been cautious, clever, and very human. That was a resource as valuable as any technology.
I smiled once, private and thin. The game had new pieces now. The board was larger. I would move with patience, as always.