Itachi crouched on the cold power pole in the Sarutobi Clan's compound, his form perfectly merging with the night, like a solidified patch of ink.
The night wind whipped up fine snow, beating against his clothes, but it couldn't shake the immense heaviness in his heart.
He looked down at the Sarutobi Clan's training ground beneath his feet. Brightly lit, faint shouts could be heard, a scene of strength and stability that now seemed particularly glaring.
Shisui's heavy question still hung in the cold air: "Who should we place our hopes on?"
Itachi's gaze pierced through this core area of Konoha, towards the churning dark void beyond.
He 'saw' the black eyes of his younger brother, Uchiha Makoto, 'possibly' filled with panic or anger when he was forcibly taken by the Kumogakure's Shinobi.
He remembered Danzo's face a few days ago, standing before the Hyuga Clan's compound, that arrogant, sharp-chinned, domineering visage, and the deeply buried humiliation and powerlessness in Hiashi's eyes.
He saw even more the face of Hiruzen, forever shrouded in smoke, loudly proclaiming the 'Will of Fire' that rejected clans and called for selfless dedication to the entire village.
But now, the prosperity of the Sarutobi Clan, the tolerance of Shimura Danzo's suppression of the Hyuga Clan, the abduction of a child from the village without any substantive action, all became the most pungent irony of this slogan.
Countless images collided and tore violently within his mind, which was near-ruthless due to extreme calmness, trying to piece together a path to survival.
But they only left deeper cracks. Time seemed frozen, only the night wind moaned.
After a long, long time, Itachi shook his head extremely slowly, the movement labored. A sigh so light it was almost swallowed by the wind and snow escaped his lips.
"I... I don't know either."
As the words fell, an unprecedented, immense bewilderment, like a shroud, wrapped tightly around him.
Yet, at the very depths of this bewilderment, was the cold reality exposed after the collapse of his old faith, and the difficult search for a way forward.
The grand figure of the Sandaime Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, had its golden image shattered in Itachi's heart tonight.
The increasingly intense contradictions and conflicts between the clan and the Konoha's leadership… how could they be resolved by just him and Shisui alone?
Rescuing Makoto... the Konoha's leadership could no longer be relied upon.
The clan... this term he once viewed as narrow-minded, now became the only rope he could grasp in the dark abyss.
This thought, carrying a heavy bitterness, quietly crept into his heart.
But no matter what, Makoto, his younger brother, had to be rescued!
Even if he had to tread over mountains of corpses and seas of blood, even if it meant burning himself to ashes!
Itachi took one last, deep look at the training ground lights below, symbols of both the Sarutobi Clan's prosperity and the tomb of his faith.
He turned sharply, his figure decisively merging into the even thicker, all-devouring darkness behind him.
"Let's go!" Itachi's voice cut through the wind and snow.
The two black figures vanished from the power pole as if they had never been there, burying the collapsed faith and the ignited, directionless resolve into Konoha's unknown snowy night.
…
The biting high-altitude airflow emitted a sharp screech, but was thoroughly blocked by two warm, soft bodies. The giant eagle's broad back, covered with thick animal pelts, became an excellent aerial soft couch.
Makoto sank deep into it, his posture so languid it was as if he weren't kilometers high in the air, but lying on the finest hot spring bedding.
His back was enjoying the Shinobi World's top-tier 'pillows'.
On the left was Samui, the blonde, fair-skinned ice beauty famous in Kumogakure for her cool allure. Her short golden hair was tousled by the swift wind, a few strands carrying a faint milky scent occasionally brushing against Makoto's cheek.
Her tight black combat suit strained against astonishingly full curves, providing top-tier support and elasticity for Makoto.
On the right was Mabui, her dark skin glowing with a fine luster under the cold light, her temperament reserved yet her figure proud and impressive. Quiet like a warm, smooth jade carving, the warmth of her body seeped through the thin fabric.
Embracing left and right, ice and fire intertwined, warm, fragrant, beautiful women. Makoto narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling the startling contrast in sensation against his body.
One side was astonishingly springy and soft, the other was warm and smooth softness.
He adjusted his posture contentedly, sinking deeper into this land of tenderness, the back of his head almost embedding itself into the hollow of Samui's neck.
This elicited a barely perceptible frown from Samui and a look of helpless yet indulgent scrutiny from Mabui.
Makoto had saved both their lives and had been extremely cooperative along the way, so both women were very indulgent towards him.
Below, the clouds and mist scattered like boiling water, revealing the full view of Kumogakure. The precipitous black mountain ranges rose like the rugged backbones of giant beasts, stabbing into the lead-gray sky.
Various buildings clung to the steep cliff faces, their edges sharp and distinct, exuding the ruggedness and toughness characteristic of Kumogakure's militant faction.
At the highest point, the enormous Raikage Building stood like a fortress perched on the mountain peak, overlooking the entire Kumogakure.
The true finishing touch was the occasional thick bolts of lightning that tore the sky, connecting the mountain peaks to the deep valleys, a sight completely different from Konoha's scenery.
Makoto's gaze swept over this land that was about to become his stage. The playful curve at the corner of his mouth deepened, finally turning into a silent, expectant smile.
"Kumogakure..." Makoto mused inwardly, with a trace of barely detectable excitement.
As they were about to land in Kumogakure, Makoto lazily turned his head, looking back towards the direction of the Land of Fire, thinking to himself.
'I wonder if the mines I planted have detonated yet?'
Thinking about the worsening relationship between Konoha's various clans and the Konoha F4, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but lift slightly.
'I also wonder what Uchiha Itachi thinks of the old fogey Sandaime now.'
Having lived together for so long, Makoto understood Uchiha Itachi too well. He was an extremely arrogant person, or rather, all strong Uchiha were arrogant.
With such a personality, the more devout the former faith, the more severe the backlash after its collapse!
When the golden statue symbolizing the 'Will of Fire', the Sandaime Hokage, crumbled in Itachi's heart, the rotting core revealed would be enough to temper that former reverence into the deadliest nutrient for hatred.
Makoto smiled inwardly, planning to add more fuel for that high and mighty Sandaime Hokage, to let the causes he sowed personally bear the most bitter fruit.
When Itachi and Hiruzen stood completely opposed... Just thinking about that scene filled him with anticipation.
He wondered what extreme things the Itachi filled with intense hatred for Hiruzen would do.
The eagle dove like a black lightning bolt towards a heavily guarded platform on the outskirts of Kumogakure. The fierce wind whipped up snow, slapping against their faces.
The screech of eagle claws scraping against rock sounded as it landed steadily. No one came to receive him.
But Makoto clearly felt intense scrutiny from his surroundings, he was obviously being softly imprisoned by Kumogakure's Anbu.
Makoto merely raised an eyebrow indifferently at this, even looking around with interest at the environment so different from Konoha.
His hands in his pockets, he wasn't panicked in the slightest.
He could leave anytime using the Flying Thunder God Technique, as he had tossed quite a few specially made Flying Thunder God kunai along the way.
If Kumogakure was sensible, then everyone would be happy. If they weren't, he could flip the table at any time.
Before leaving, he could even use the 'Parting Gifts', 'Art is an Explosion!' to quickly accumulate a bunch of 'acquaintances' in Kumogakure.
With these ample trump cards in hand, Makoto was practically like a tourist visiting Kumogakure, not at all like someone who had been forcibly abducted.
"Please follow me," Mabui stepped forward, turning sideways, efficiently to lead the way.
"Please rest first at the residence prepared for you and wait for Raikage-sama's summons."
The bandage on her arm still seeped a dark red, but her movements were meticulous, displaying the demeanor of a future top secretary.
Makoto, hands in pockets, followed behind Mabui, his steps light.
Passing through the stern and tense passageway built from huge black stone blocks, the faces of the Kumogakure's Shinobi stationed on the towers and cliffs on both sides fell into his view.
Looking at this group of quality laborers, an idea suddenly popped into Makoto's head.
He had always dreamed of being a farm owner before he crossed over. This place was perfect for realizing that dream.
'Tsk, those muscles... such a pity not to be hardworking farm workers,' Makoto clicked his tongue in admiration, the dream of being a farm owner burning fiercely within him. This was a business with enormous returns.
Once he got a bit stronger, he would definitely encircle a piece of prime land in the Land of Lightning, open a huge farm, and arrange a 007 blessing for these muscular guys.
Provide room and board, start each day with a hundred pulls as soon as they open their eyes. As for payment... what's payment?
Having money isn't good for the muscular guys' growth. The corner of Makoto's mouth curled into the smile of an evil capitalist.
He could almost already see the spectacular scene of muscular guys everywhere diligently 'cultivating' under the sun for him.