The waning sunlight of spring spilled over the low walls surrounding the village.
Encircled by cliffs and fortifications, Konohagakure lay quietly within its natural basin.
At the great iron gates of the village, a group of shinobi gathered—warriors returning from the battlefield.
Their sandals were caked with mud, their bodies wrapped in bloodstained bandages, and their aura was cold and oppressive.
Yet, within their eyes glimmered something softer—familiarity, relief, and a quiet yearning for home.
---
Gazing at the familiar village entrance, Uchiha Itachi's black eyes reflected the image of Konoha, and countless thoughts swirled in his heart.
It had been only a few months since he left last winter to join the war beside his father, yet it felt like a lifetime.
He had gone to the battlefield with the intention to learn, but the reality was disappointing.
Every time a battle broke out, he had been ordered to remain at the rear, far from the frontlines.
And even when he finally caught a glimpse of combat, his youthful eyes couldn't keep up with the speed of the fights—his dynamic vision simply wasn't developed enough.
He could only witness the start and the aftermath, never the process.
And without seeing the process… there was nothing to learn.
Even so, this war had left deep impressions on him—lessons not of jutsu or tactics, but of weight, loss, and responsibility.
The heaviness one feels when carrying the burden of others.
---
"Hiemon, Yu—when we enter the village, you'll accompany me to the Hokage Building to report on the mission's outcome."
At the front of the formation, Uchiha Fugaku addressed two seasoned jōnin.
"The rest of you, return to the compound. And don't cause any trouble."
His final words were spoken with stern emphasis.
"Yes, sir!"
The Uchiha answered in unison—their voices a mixture of joy, relief, sorrow, and fatigue.
From that single reply, Itachi could sense the range of emotions his clansmen felt.
As for himself, his own heart was unsettled.
He hadn't felt much when leaving home, nor when marching to war—but now, standing before Konoha's gates, he couldn't deny the warmth of nostalgia rising within him.
His mother was still waiting at home, after all.
At that thought, Itachi's gaze instinctively shifted to his father at the head of the line.
Since the death of Uchiha Tera, Fugaku had taken over as acting commander.
He hadn't spoken much since then—neither to Itachi nor to anyone else.
Throughout their journey home, Itachi had been traveling beside Uchiha Hui, not his father.
He could only assume Fugaku was angry with him—for delaying the battle and causing the death of his closest friend.
...
The squad didn't linger long at the gate to avoid blocking the entrance.
After confirming their identities with the guards, Fugaku led the group across the iron threshold and into the village.
Their pace slowed once they reached the main street, moving with measured steps rather than the brisk march of travel.
From within the formation, Itachi could feel the villagers' gazes following them from both sides of the road.
Admiration. Curiosity. Excitement.
Emotions he had never felt from others before leaving for war.
Perhaps this was the "honor" his father had once spoken of—to fight for Konoha, to fight for the Land of Fire, and to return bearing the respect of those you protected.
For the first time, he began to grasp what that word truly meant.
—
"So this is Konoha?"
A soft, curious voice sounded beside him.
The faint shimmer of light revealed Artoria's form walking at his side, her emerald eyes scanning their surroundings with keen interest.
"Compared to the capital of Britannia," she remarked, "Konoha seems… rather humble."
"But this feeling—the way people look upon you—it reminds me of when I returned from battle and my people knelt in welcome before my carriage."
"Itachi, do you feel it? This sense of honor? This longing to be recognized?"
Clad in her blue-and-white light armor, she walked proudly beside him, every gesture radiating confidence and noble dignity.
For a moment, Itachi was taken aback by her presence.
On the battlefield, the woman before him had been King Arthur—a sovereign of unwavering will.
Her eyes back then were cold and absolute; no loss, no victory, no sacrifice could stir her heart.
She was not human, but something beyond—an instrument of reason, a ruler bound to her ideal.
But now…
Now she resembled the Knight King from his inherited memories—one who still possessed warmth, emotion, and the pride of a true knight.
She could still take joy in the admiration of others.
She could still feel.
Itachi silently wondered if this was how she once was, before abandoning the humanity that made her noble.
Unlike the battlefield, the crowded streets of Konoha offered him a chance to observe her openly, without fear of being mistaken for one under genjutsu.
To her question, he replied in thought:
"Ninja value efficiency above all else.
Compared to comfort or aesthetics, we favor structures that aid movement and combat readiness.
If you wish to see the Land of Fire's true prosperity, the Daimyō's capital would be a better place to visit."
"As for honor… I suppose I've felt a little of it. Just a little."
"Only a little?" Artoria sighed in mild disappointment.
"That's all right. Someday, you'll understand what it means to fight for a nation—
and what it truly means to protect one."
Her gaze drifted to the bustling streets again.
"So, functionality over beauty… I see. It makes sense—your kind can use chakra to move easily across these rooftops. It would allow for faster assembly and combat response."
Her tone shifted as she continued to observe.
"But judging from the clothing and behavior of the villagers, your culture places little emphasis on formality or hierarchy. That weakens social structure—yet… it gives this village a certain vitality. A sense of life."
She paused, her eyes catching the signs ahead.
"Wait—a hot spring bathhouse, a gambling hall, an arcade, and even a yakiniku restaurant…? Konoha seems to invest heavily in recreation."
"Is this to help shinobi relax during rest periods? What an… unexpected policy."
Her analytical remarks flowed as they walked, each observation tying what she saw to Itachi's memories.
When she learned that Konoha even had a ninja academy dedicated to nurturing future shinobi, her astonishment only grew.
Itachi listened quietly, his mind drifting to her world.
In Britannia, knowledge and books were hoarded by the nobility—private treasures locked away from the common people.
Only the sons of lords received formal education.
For the poor, to learn anything required extraordinary luck—perhaps catching the favor of a noble, or earning recognition through great deeds in war.
It was a world where those born into privilege could remain so forever,
while those without power could spend a lifetime trapped in helplessness.
...
Standing amidst Konoha's bustling streets,
Itachi finally began to understand just how different their worlds were—
A land born of fire and shared ideals…
and a kingdom built upon swords and destiny.