While Sasuke trained within Konohagakure's walls, growing colder and more isolated with each passing month, his brother walked very different paths through the shinobi world's darkest corners. The same massacre that had shaped Sasuke into a weapon pointed at a single target had transformed Itachi into something equally dangerous but far more complex—a missing-nin with loyalties that defied simple categorization, a spy so deeply embedded that even his handlers in Konoha sometimes questioned whose side he truly served.
Itachi Uchiha had fled the village as the sun rose on the massacre's aftermath, moving with the speed and skill that had made him legendary even before his apparent betrayal. His path had been deliberately visible enough that ANBU tracking teams could follow, but never quite clear enough that they could catch him. He'd led them on a chase through Fire Country's forests, across rivers, through terrain that favored evasion over pursuit.
The chase had continued for two weeks before Itachi finally lost them in the borderlands between Fire Country and Rain Country, using techniques that combined his natural skill with deliberate misdirection. When the ANBU teams had finally lost the trail completely, Hiruzen had quietly called off the pursuit.
"Let him go," the Hokage had ordered, his voice heavy with grief and political calculation. "What's done is done. Chasing Itachi won't bring the Uchiha back, and I won't sacrifice more of our shinobi in a pursuit that serves no practical purpose except vengeance."
Danzo had argued for continued hunting—Itachi was too dangerous to simply allow to wander free, too knowledgeable about Konoha's secrets. But Hiruzen had overruled him with rare absolute authority. "This matter is closed. Itachi Uchiha is listed as an S-rank missing-nin, kill-on-sight for any operative who encounters him. But we will not actively pursue. That is my final decision."
What Hiruzen didn't say—what he couldn't say with Danzo present—was that the pursuit's failure had been somewhat deliberate. Itachi was still, in some sense, serving Konoha's interests despite his official missing-nin status. Killing him would eliminate a potential asset whose value might only become apparent years later. Better to let him disappear and see what intelligence he might provide from outside the village's formal structures.
Itachi's destination had been predetermined through contacts established during his ANBU career. Information networks that existed in spaces between official village operations, connections to organizations that operated where law and authority couldn't reach. One organization in particular had been recruiting powerful missing-nin for purposes that remained frustratingly obscure to even the most skilled intelligence gatherers.
Akatsuki.
The organization had existed for years in various incarnations, evolving from idealistic origins into something far darker. Under new leadership—someone called Pain, though that was certainly a title rather than a name—Akatsuki had transformed into a force that accepted contracts too dangerous or politically sensitive for normal villages to handle. They were ghosts and legends, powerful enough that villages hesitated to directly confront them but not yet prominent enough to be considered an immediate threat to international stability.
The meeting had been arranged through intermediaries, coded messages passed through networks that existed specifically to connect missing-nin with organizations that could employ their particular skills. Itachi had followed the instructions carefully, traveling to Rain Country during one of its endless storms, finding the tower that overlooked the perpetually soaked city below.
The tower's interior had been sparse, almost ascetic. No decorations, no comfort, just stone and shadows and the sound of rain hammering against windows. Pain had been waiting in what might have been called an audience chamber, though it resembled an abandoned warehouse more than any formal meeting space.
He'd worn a rain cloak that hid most of his features, but his eyes—ringed with strange patterns that Itachi's Sharingan immediately identified as something significant—had been unmistakably powerful. The chakra radiating from him was immense, controlled, dangerous in ways that made even Itachi wary.
"Itachi Uchiha," Pain had said, his voice carrying an odd reverberation like multiple people speaking in near-perfect unison. "The prodigy who slaughtered his entire clan in a single night. An impressive resume, if a tragic one."
"I seek purpose," Itachi had responded carefully, his voice neutral and giving nothing away. "The village holds nothing for me now. My clan is gone. My family is dead by my own hand. But my skills remain sharp, and skills without application atrophy. I understand your organization employs individuals of exceptional ability for purposes that transcend normal village politics."
"We do. But membership isn't granted simply for skill, Itachi-san. Power without direction is merely chaos. We require loyalty to the organization's goals, discretion about its operations, and the willingness to pursue objectives that may seem obscure or even contradictory at times. Can you provide these things?"
"I can provide whatever is required," Itachi had said, then added carefully, "so long as the organization's goals don't directly threaten Konohagakure's fundamental stability. I have no love for the village leadership that created the circumstances of my clan's destruction, but I won't participate in actions specifically targeting the village itself."
The condition had been deliberate—establishing boundaries while simultaneously revealing that he maintained some attachment to his former home. It was a dangerous play, but necessary. Itachi's true mission, known only to Hiruzen, was to infiltrate Akatsuki and provide intelligence about threats that operated beyond normal village surveillance. That mission required maintaining at least the appearance of some remaining loyalty.
Pain had studied him with those strange ringed eyes, seeming to see through layers of deception and half-truth with uncomfortable clarity. "Interesting. Most missing-nin want nothing to do with their former villages. They burn those bridges with relief, eager to escape the structures that constrained them. You maintain attachment even after burning your bridges so thoroughly."
"My actions were necessary for reasons I don't expect you to understand or care about. The village and my clan were separate matters. But I won't act against Konoha's interests, even as a missing-nin. If that's unacceptable, we have nothing further to discuss."
After a long silence filled only by the sound of rain against windows, Pain had smiled—a cold expression that held no warmth or humor. "Actually, that makes you more valuable, not less. Loyalty, even loyalty to something you've officially betrayed, indicates principle. Principle can be redirected toward new purposes, but it can't easily be broken or faked. A shinobi with actual convictions is rare enough to be valuable."
He'd gestured to a figure standing in shadows that Itachi hadn't noticed before. "You'll be partnered with one of our more... unique members. Someone who understands the weight of carrying a blade for purposes that transcend simple morality."
The partner had been Kisame Hoshigaki—a name Itachi recognized from intelligence reports as one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, though he'd apparently betrayed that organization just as Itachi had betrayed his clan. Kisame's appearance matched his fearsome reputation—shark-like features, sharp teeth, and the massive sword Samehada strapped to his back, the blade itself radiating a hunger that Itachi could sense even from across the room.
"So you're the Uchiha who killed his whole family," Kisame had said, his voice carrying genuine interest rather than judgment. His shark-toothed grin had been predatory but not hostile. "That takes a special kind of commitment! Most people don't have the stomach for that level of necessary evil. I like you already, partner!"
"I don't require your approval," Itachi had responded coolly. "Only your cooperation on assigned missions."
"Touchy! Don't worry, I understand. Carrying that kind of weight makes people defensive. We'll get along fine as long as you pull your weight and I pull mine. Simple partnership, simple rules."
In the months following Itachi's recruitment, Akatsuki had begun a systematic campaign that gradually revealed the organization's scope and ambitions. They'd started targeting powerful missing-nin throughout the Five Great Nations—not randomly, but with clear strategic purpose that Itachi had slowly begun to understand.
Some targets were recruited, brought into the organization through offers of purpose and resources that lone missing-nin typically lacked. Others were eliminated when they refused recruitment or posed potential threats to Akatsuki's plans. The pattern suggested something larger than a simple mercenary operation—this was an organization building toward some specific goal that remained frustratingly obscure even to most of its members.
Itachi and Kisame's first joint mission had been hunting a missing-nin from Takigakure who'd stolen village secrets and was attempting to auction them to the highest bidder. The target had been skilled—jōnin level minimum, with water techniques formidable enough to make direct confrontation dangerous for most pursuers.
"Want to take lead, partner?" Kisame had asked as they'd tracked their target through dense forest near the border. "Show me what an Uchiha prodigy can do? I'm curious to see if the reputation matches reality."
"We eliminate the target efficiently," Itachi had responded, his tactical mind already analyzing terrain and possibilities. "Leadership is irrelevant. You approach from the water source to his east while I cut off escape routes to the west. He'll be forced to commit to fighting one of us, at which point the other strikes from behind. Standard two-man elimination tactics."
"Boring but effective! I can work with that!"
The battle had been brief—almost disappointingly so for Kisame, who'd expected more challenge from a target with such impressive credentials. The missing-nin had never had a chance against their coordinated assault. Kisame's overwhelming physical power and Samehada's chakra-draining capabilities had forced their target into increasingly desperate defensive positions, while Itachi's Sharingan and genjutsu had prevented any effective counter-strategy. Within minutes, the target lay dead, his stolen secrets recovered, his threat permanently neutralized.
"You're cold," Kisame had observed afterward, watching Itachi calmly search the corpse for the documents they'd been sent to retrieve. "Most people hesitate at least a little before killing. Show some emotion, some acknowledgment of taking a life. You just... do it. Like it means nothing at all."
"It means exactly as much as it needs to," Itachi had replied without looking up from his search. "No more, no less. Excessive emotion creates hesitation. Hesitation creates vulnerability. I learned that lesson thoroughly."
Kisame had studied him with something that might have been respect or might have been concern. "You're going to be an interesting partner, Itachi. Can't decide yet if that's good or bad, but definitely interesting."
Over the following months, they'd completed seven elimination missions, recruited two skilled shinobi into Akatsuki's ranks, and begun establishing the organization's reputation as something far more dangerous than a simple mercenary group. Villages were starting to notice the pattern—powerful missing-nin either joining Akatsuki or disappearing entirely, the organization growing in both size and capability.
But what troubled Itachi most was what he'd begun learning about Akatsuki's true goals. Pain spoke of peace—of creating a world without war, without the cycle of violence that had defined shinobi history for generations. But the methods discussed to achieve this peace were disturbing in their scope and ambition. Something about gathering power, about acquiring specific weapons that could enforce peace through overwhelming force.
The details remained frustratingly vague. Itachi was new enough to the organization that he wasn't privy to inner circle discussions, wasn't trusted with complete information about long-term plans. He gathered pieces of intelligence where he could, passed them to Konohagakure through the dead-drop system he'd established with Hiruzen before fleeing, but the full picture remained obscured.
In Konohagakure, Hiruzen received reports about Akatsuki with growing unease. The intelligence was fragmentary, often third-hand accounts from informants who'd heard rumors or witnessed encounters, but the pattern was unmistakable.
"They're becoming organized," he'd told his council during a classified briefing. "That's dangerous in ways I don't think you fully appreciate. Missing-nin are manageable when they operate individually—we hunt them down one at a time, eliminate threats as they emerge. But if they're forming a cohesive organization with leadership and coordination, that becomes something else entirely. That becomes a rogue nation without borders, answerable to no authority."
"We should send ANBU to investigate," one advisor had suggested. "Gather intelligence, assess their strength, potentially eliminate leadership before they become too entrenched."
"No." Hiruzen's voice had been firm. "We don't have enough information yet. Sending ANBU blindly against an unknown force is how we lose skilled operatives without accomplishing anything meaningful. For now, we watch, we gather intelligence through our existing networks, and we prepare contingencies. But we don't move until we understand what we're facing."
What he didn't say—what he couldn't say with Danzo and others present—was that his hesitation came partly from knowing Itachi was among Akatsuki's members. The boy he'd watched grow up, the prodigy he'd hoped would bridge the gap between clan and village, was now serving this organization whose goals remained frustratingly obscure.
Did Itachi's presence mean Akatsuki was a direct threat to Konoha? Or was the boy still serving the village from outside its borders, gathering intelligence that would eventually prove invaluable? Hiruzen didn't know, and that uncertainty stayed his hand from actions that might prove necessary but could also be catastrophically wrong.
Meanwhile, far from Konohagakure, Itachi walked the razor's edge between his role as Akatsuki member and his true mission as the village's most deeply embedded spy. Every mission completed strengthened the organization he'd infiltrated, but also brought him closer to understanding its goals and finding ways to undermine threats from within.
The weight of it was crushing. The isolation absolute. The fear constant that he'd be discovered and everything he'd sacrificed—his clan, his relationship with his brother, his place in the village, his very soul—would prove meaningless.
But he persisted because there was no alternative. Because someone had to walk in darkness so others could remain in light. Because protecting Sasuke and the village that had raised them both meant carrying burdens too heavy for most people to imagine, let alone bear.
As Sasuke approached his tenth birthday and the graduation that would transform him from student to genin, as Itachi solidified his position within Akatsuki while secretly working to undermine its most dangerous ambitions, the two brothers existed in separate spheres that were already beginning to curve back toward each other.
Sasuke trained with singular focus, his skills advancing beyond his years, his heart hardening into something that resembled the brother he hated. Every technique mastered brought him closer to being strong enough to face Itachi—but also closer to losing everything else that made him human rather than simply a weapon pointed at revenge.
Itachi served Akatsuki while secretly working against its interests where possible, gathering intelligence about threats to Konoha that operated beyond normal surveillance, walking a path that would eventually force him to make even more impossible choices than the one that had destroyed his clan.
Neither brother knew that their paths were already converging toward inevitable collision. That within a few short years, they would face each other not as brothers but as enemies, and that encounter would set in motion events that would reshape the entire shinobi world in ways neither could predict.
For now, they existed apart—one in light, one in shadow, both carrying burdens too heavy for their years, both convinced that strength purchased through isolation was worth any price.
Both wrong in ways they wouldn't understand until those prices came due, until the bills for their choices arrived and demanded payment that might destroy them both.
The river of time flowed on, carrying them toward a reunion written in blood and regret, toward a confrontation that would break one brother and push the other into darkness from which recovery might prove impossible.
But that day hadn't arrived yet. For now, there was only training and mission work, only the relentless pursuit of strength to fill voids where family and genuine connection used to reside.
Two brothers. Two paths. One terrible, inevitable destination waiting somewhere in the future neither could see but both were racing toward with grim determination.
The story was far from over. In many ways, the prologue was only just ending, and the real tale—of friendship and betrayal, of bonds forged and broken, of choices that would reshape the world—was about to begin.
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