"On our shoulders lies the weight of the whole world. We have no laws, and we are alone in our high calling."
© Clive Staples Lewis
They left the shrine three together and, without agreeing, went deep into the dark grove. Shisui was silent, and Itachi was still on edge—Sarada feared even touching him. Soon they reached the rocky bank of the Naka River, overlooked by a sheer cliff. Shisui scanned the surroundings with Sharingan and asked glumly:
"Well, girl, what did you think of the meeting?"
For some reason, instead of her name, he preferred "spy" or "girl." With Itachi there, Shisui used the second to avoid angering his younger friend.
The meeting left a heavy, unpleasant aftertaste.
"Shisui-san," her voice trembled slightly, and Sarada addressed him deliberately, not Itachi who was out of sorts, "explain what's going on?"
Shisui smiled sadly.
"This is our reality, you know. Clan separate, village separate. Uchiha are Konoha founders, but over time we were pushed from village leadership. Unlike others, we have autonomy—clan handles clan affairs, Leaf doesn't interfere. But now we have no one in the Council; all ours except me and Itachi work in the Police Force. They sit in their shell, unaware of real affairs. And you see what it's led to."
"Black and white," Sarada echoed uncle's words. "Black village…"
"Yeah."
"But unc…" she faltered and corrected, "I mean, Itachi said villagers fear Uchiha. Prejudice exists. I heard myself—they suspect the clan in the Kyuubi attack."
"Yes, prejudice exists—you can't escape it. But it's not as critical as ours think. Those… idiots," Shisui cursed emphatically, "make it worse themselves. Uchiha avoid contact, don't fix anything. They just withdraw more into their world and breed hatred. That's what Itachi tried to say at the meeting. But they don't listen. They hear no one but themselves."
Shisui clenched his teeth in anger.
"I didn't know it was so serious," Sarada murmured. "Shisui-san, you said you don't serve in the Police Force?"
"No."
"But why?"
"Nothing to do there. I'm a jonin, have my own team, work field missions."
Ordering these thoughts was too hard. A serious conflict brewed between village and Uchiha. Between Itachi and clan too, it seemed. Sarada suspected Uchiha secrets, but not this deep and dark, like a swamp of black slime. Step in, no way back—you'd sink deeper until drowning, suffocating, becoming part of it. She felt soiled from the shrine: stale hot air, buzz of voices, flowing tension. She understood why uncle opposed grandfather's decision: he wanted to protect her from it all.
At first, everything seemed wonderful and bright: father's family, clan district, living Uchiha, Military Police prospects. But Shisui's disdain for Police Force now—"nothing to do there"—dashed all Sarada's hopes. Was being a village jonin prouder than Uchiha Military Police?
And the stubborn thought of the meeting's link to the clan's sudden disappearance wouldn't leave.
"In the future…"
Itachi, silent till now, gave her a stern look. He understood what she wanted to tell Shisui.
"Don't," his cold gaze said. "Don't you dare."
"What?" Shisui asked warily.
"Uh… Nothing. I just worry it could end badly."
"Yeah. Something must be done."
He darkened, frowning suspiciously at her.
Shisui wasn't an idiot. He'd caught Itachi's wordless hint and guessed his fake niece knew where this budding conflict led.
Nanadaime slurped ramen voraciously, splattering and noisily sipping broth. Sarada studied his whisker marks, happy blue eyes, straw-like messy hair.
"How's the academy?"
"Uh…"
Naruto quieted a bit and thoughtfully clicked his chopsticks. Sarada wasn't asking idly. Sasuke got his grades report today. Glancing sideways, Sarada saw only top marks—Dad excelled. Logically, little Nanadaime got the same.
"No problem, everything's awesome, dattebayo!" Naruto blurted overly cheerfully and dove back into ramen.
Sarada insistently slapped the table.
"The grades sheet."
"I don't have any sheet," he dug in and turned away.
"I know you do."
They often called her too nagging. Nanadaime never dared say it, but he'd surely appreciated her charms by now. Sarada lectured Boruto, Shikadai, Denki, Inojin… Everyone. And just a month or two in the past, she'd found new victims instead of classmates. Own father or future Hokage—no matter. Sarada was ready to scold anyone she felt responsible for. She no longer worried about changing the future. The thought of living out her life in the past freed her from panic.
Naruto realized she wouldn't let go. If "little sis" knew about the sheet, she'd extract his soul but get it.
"Fine, dattebayo."
He dug into his shorts pocket, rummaged, and dumped a crumpled paper with trash onto the table. Sarada grimaced disgustedly, flipped the sheet right-side up. Nanadaime shrank, anticipating the storm—and it came.
"Na-a-ruto," Sarada drew out threateningly.
She recalled the adult Nanadaime bragging he was the academy's top student, smartest, most popular, "like Sasuke." She no longer doubted Dad fit all that. She'd seen his grades and little girls squealing at Sasuke. But Naruto either went crooked from meeting her and became a slacker, or lied. Sarada leaned toward the latter. She once wouldn't dream the Hokage would fib to her, but now she was 100% sure: he could. And did. Yes, that very fib, which he now blissfully slurped from his ramen bowl.
"Shameless," was all Sarada said.
But thought: "Screw it, do what you want. If those awful grades didn't stop you from Hokage, who am I to judge."
Principles itched: "Set him straight, shannaro!" But Sarada resisted staunchly. Meanwhile, Nanadaime finished ramen, cupped his palms boat-like with chopsticks between, bowed slightly, beaming smugly:
"Thanks, dattebayo!"
Sarutobi Hiruzen packed his pipe with tobacco, lit it, and stared thoughtfully into the distance.
"Shisui, I'm listening."
Shisui knelt on one knee and bowed his head.
"Third, I'm worried about the Uchiha situation."
"Yes," the Hokage replied. "Not just you."
He bit the pipe. Acrid smoke dissolved in the fresh autumn evening.
"Village distrusts Uchiha. Clan reciprocates."
"Yes," Hiruzen said heavily. "Uchiha are police, and people often dislike law enforcement. But what do you want, Shisui?"
"Third," Shisui said fervently. "Please, give me authority… I want to handle this."
Sharingan flared in his eyes.
"Oh?" Hokage turned interestedly.
"Please, Third! We must end the feud between Uchiha and Leaf. I'll handle the clan, but you… Can you manage the village?"
The Third chewed his pipe thoughtfully.
"Interesting."
Shisui waited patiently. Hokage frowned, puffed smoke, and finally said:
"Alright, Shisui. I'm freeing you from regular missions. You're now in my Anbu. No documents. No one knows. I give you unlimited authority—refer to me for issues."
"Thank you, Third!"
Hokage smiled warmly.
"You remind me of my old friend, Uchiha Kagami. You have the Will of Fire too."
Shisui closed his eyes.
"No, Third. I'm far from him."
"You've got time ahead. Now go—our talk stays secret."
"Mikoto-san, dinner's ready," Sarada said, removing her apron.
"Thank you. You didn't have to go to such trouble…"
The kind woman felt awkward that the adopted child cleaned and cooked dinner, like paying for her keep.
"It's no trouble, Mikoto-san, really. At home, I did everything myself."
"Did?" grandmother wondered. "But you're still just a child…"
It sounded like reproach toward Mom. But Sarada didn't justify. She couldn't say her mom was the hospital's head medic, not a housewife, with no time for such trivia. Ultimately, Sarada had been independent since childhood, and one day roles reversed: Sarada waited for Mom with dinner ready and even parented sometimes—when Sakura, despairing as a terrible mother, whined and self-flagellated.
Maybe grandmother was right?
"Izumi-chan's waiting. Hurry."
"Yes!"
Sarada put on her shoes and went out to Izumi.
They had grown very close, since in Sarada's past, there was essentially no one for her to talk to. Her grandmother treated her like a daughter, she didn't talk to her grandfather at all; her dad was small and mean, Naruto was small and noisy; Shisui suspected she was a spy, and lately he joked less and had become somewhat sullen—most likely due to the tense situation with the clan. And her uncle had always been strange and remained so to this day. Yes, they had started communicating more trustingly; he even allowed her to touch him and responded to "uncle," but talking to him was still difficult. At any wrong question, Itachi would withdraw and retreat into himself, and any attempts to draw him out of that state were doomed to fail from the start.
They quickly left the Uchiha District and went for a walk through the village. Izumi was sad, and Sarada tried to cheer her up a bit:
"What is it?"
Her girlfriend just sighed sadly.
"Izumi, come on, really," Sarada persisted.
How could you walk with someone who was silent and sad? Even worse than walking with uncle, who usually just stayed silent.
"I'm just thinking about Itachi," Izumi confessed.
Sarada perked up with interest:
"Mm? What's wrong with him?"
They turned onto the playground. Nearby, little kids were playing "can," and from their side came laughter and the clanging of a tin can.
"It's sharp. They'll cut themselves," Sarada thought involuntarily and reined herself in again: "And screw them. These aren't your kids, Sarada. Don't nag and don't think about it."
Something stabbed at her heart—Shisui's words about the Hokage and how the whole village should be her family. But Sarada didn't have time to develop the thought, because her girlfriend climbed onto the swings and spoke up:
"Sometimes it feels like I don't understand him at all. He's all wrapped up in himself. We see each other less and less every day; he's drifting further and further away."
"Have you tried talking to him about it? He's hard to catch, sure, but..."
"I have," Izumi replied, pain in her voice.
"And what did you say?"
"The same thing I told you. I say, \"It feels like you're going somewhere, Itachi-kun.\""
She swung harder and harder. Her long chestnut hair swayed in the wind, covering her sad face. Nearby, the can rolled with a crash again, followed by the kids' thin squeals.
"And what did he say?"
"Nothing. He said, \"I'm not going anywhere.\" And that's it. You know, Sarada, it's hard. And I don't even know if I have the right to expect anything. I'm almost sure he doesn't care about me. Not one bit."
"Come on, Izumi..."
Uncle was an unusual boy, but Sarada believed Izumi was wrong. She remembered the conversation with Itachi on the veranda before he left on his deadly mission. It was the question about his feelings for Izumi that had flustered Itachi and allowed Sarada to find a way to his heart. Maybe uncle would never admit it to Izumi, never reciprocate her feelings, maybe he'd never even admit it to himself, but he definitely cared. He liked Izumi, whether he realized it or not.
"But honestly, Sarada," Izumi said suddenly. "He matters to you too, right?"
Her question plunged her into deep shock.
"Well... Yeah... We're family. Of course I care."
"No, not like that," Izumi shook her head, and her flying hair whipped her cheeks. "I know you're Fugaku-san's adopted daughter, and Itachi-kun is basically your brother now. But still a half-brother. You're not blood-related."
Blood-related for sure. He's my uncle, Izumi.
"Admit it," the girl said bitterly. "You don't like him like a brother at all."
"What are you saying, have you lost your mind?" Sarada was stunned and felt her cheeks inexorably filling with blood. "You... what are you talking about, Izumi... I never thought you were jealous of me over Itachi."
"You're blushing," her girlfriend stated, completely ignoring her jumbled excuses. "So I'm right."
Sarada pressed her palms to her cheeks.
Nonsense. Complete nonsense. And, d-damn it, I can't convince her otherwise. I can't tell her that Itachi is my uncle, shannaro!
But... Gods, if Izumi is wrong, then why are her cheeks burning?
Sarada suddenly got scared. She started digging into her feelings but got tangled up, got even more scared, and gave up. Her cheeks throbbed hotly from the blood rushing to her face.
"Damn it, Izumi!" Sarada exclaimed angrily and jumped up from the bench.
She was angry. Why had Izumi started this conversation at all? Why ask?
Panic gripped her. Sarada realized that if Izumi was right, it was the end. Fall in love with her own uncle. You can't do that.
I just need to calm down. I'll calm down and realize that I love him like an uncle, not like a boy. He's my uncle. Uncle!
She went down from the playground to the embankment, where little kids her dad and Naruto's age were playing, and sat on the steps. Her muddled thoughts gradually cleared. On the gentle parapet, warmed by the warm autumn sun, with his hands under his head, lay a boy strikingly similar to Shikadai. She hadn't noticed him at first, he blended so well with the landscape. Sarada was a bit distracted from her scary thoughts.
Why isn't he playing with everyone?
She latched onto this saving question and stubbornly unraveled it, avoiding returning her thoughts to the conversation with Izumi.
Maybe they don't accept him on the team either, like Nanadaime? Is he lonely too? Then... what if he and Naruto would get along? That would be wonderful.
"Hey," Sarada called.
Shikamaru didn't stir, just glanced at her sideways.
"Me?"
"Yeah. Why aren't you playing with everyone?"
Shikamaru closed his eyelids, stretched with pleasure like a cat, and returned to his previous pose: hands under his head.
"Lazy."
Yeah, really. And you, naive, thought you'd found a friend for Nanadaime.
****
Itachi knelt before the Root leader. He was in a dark office where Sarada had once been tortured. Danzou had summoned him again.
These meetings seemed strange to Itachi. He belonged to the Anbu under the direct command of the Hokage. After the test mission ended, nothing should have tied him to Danzou anymore, but the man embodying the Leaf's darkness had no intention of letting him go. Danzou rose from behind the desk and, tapping his cane on the floor, approached Itachi closer. Behind him loomed the ever-present tiger mask.
"Uchiha Itachi, you may stand."
He obeyed. Danzou bored into him with his one eye.
"How's Anbu treating you?"
"I don't know yet."
"An honest answer. You'll have plenty of chances to gain experience. Until then—hone your skills," Danzou ordered, as if Itachi were his student or subordinate.
But Hokage Anbu had nothing to do with Root. Accordingly, Danzou had no right to give Itachi orders. This was all very strange.
"There's a reason I called you today."
Itachi nodded quietly.
"Rumors say that in the Uchiha District lately, they've been treating strangers quite harshly."
Itachi remained silent.
"I sense something's brewing. You attend the regular meetings, right, Itachi?"
"Yes."
In his short time in Anbu, Itachi had encountered things that shook him to his core. There was no point in lying. The clan was already an open book. The entire Uchiha District was under surveillance 24/7. Anbu had set up a special post where they monitored the Uchiha around the clock. Every corner of the district, every alley, every street, every house—everything was under the watchful eyes of Anbu, and Itachi himself was forced to pull shifts spying on his own clansmen. No, it hadn't been a district for a long time; it was a reservation, a ghetto. A closed area where it was easiest to track Uchiha life. Once he saw it, Itachi knew—he wouldn't tell the clan. If they found out, nothing could hold back the Uchiha's indignation.
"I want you to report to me on what's happening at the meetings," Danzou ordered.
"Are you asking me to betray my clan?" Itachi asked sharply.
"You're not betraying them—you're saving them. Betrayal implies harm, but the Uchiha will only benefit. You understand that if your clan rises against Konoha, the village won't hold back, right? By preventing the uprising, you're saving their lives. So it's not betrayal, Itachi."
Danzou skillfully juggled words, trying to confuse him and pressing on his weakness—the desire to preserve peace. But Itachi was far from as naive as the Root leader thought.
You speak beautifully, Danzou. But what you're ordering me to do is still betrayal.
"I understand," Itachi replied curtly.
"Given your passion for pacifism, I was sure you'd agree."
Itachi wasn't fooled, but he admitted there really was no other way. He had no clear plan to stop the clan from staging a coup. Even though neither he nor Shisui had breathed a word to anyone about the uprising, the Council already suspected the Uchiha were plotting something. Shisui had secured the Hokage's support. And he, Itachi, might as well establish contact with Danzou. Perhaps with the Hokage and Root forces as allies, they could prevent a civil war?
"You don't have to tell me everything—just what you deem necessary. The choice is yours."
"Thank you."
"I'm counting on you, Itachi. The fate of the Uchiha is in your hands."
Each of Danzou's words landed on his shoulders like an unbearable weight. But Itachi was strong enough to bear that burden and take responsibility for the future of the Uchiha and the Leaf.
****
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan