He felt some of his stamina returning.
But the atmosphere remained delicate.
Sora disliked this feeling of losing control. Uchiha Itachi was, in himself, a massive variable. No one could guess what was going on in that brilliant, paranoid, and overly precocious mind of his.
He had to do something.
Guide him.
Before he stepped onto that doomed path of destruction, give him a new option—a new hope.
People only make irrational decisions when they're desperate. Like slaughtering their entire clan with their own hands for the sake of so-called "peace."
Sora didn't want his future partner to be a lunatic whose brain had been kicked by a donkey.
Even though he himself had opened his Mangekyō Sharingan through cheats—it wasn't essentially different from how these Uchiha opened theirs through emotional trauma.
No.
Completely different.
He was rational and controllable. They were mad and unpredictable.
He had to draw a clear line.
"Itachi." Sora's voice broke the silence in the woods.
Itachi looked up, his black eyes calmly fixing on him.
"Do you have any plans for your future?" Sora asked lightly, as if saying, "What do you want for dinner?"
"But as a ninja, what's your goal?"
Itachi fell silent.
He didn't answer, just lowered his head to gaze at his blurred reflection in the stream.
The water flowed gently, reflecting his face that still carried a boy's youthfulness—and those eyes that were far too deep for his age.
Sora didn't press.
He was waiting.
He had all the patience in the world.
After a long while, Itachi finally spoke slowly, his voice cool and dry.
"Complete the missions given by the village."
"Protect Konoha's peace."
"Not... disappoint the clan's expectations."
Each word seemed squeezed out through clenched teeth, heavy with shackles.
Standard answer.
A perfect yet soulless, pre-programmed life trajectory.
Sora inwardly sneered.
As expected.
The village and the clan.
Two massive mountains weighing down this thirteen-year-old boy until he couldn't breathe.
Fugaku wanted him to be a wedge driven into Konoha's upper echelons, fighting for power for the Uchiha.
The Third and Danzō wanted him to be eyes watching the Uchiha—a blade ready to be drawn at any time.
He was caught in the middle, belonging to neither side.
What a pitiful tool.
Sora could even foresee that in the near future, when these contradictions became irreconcilable, this boy would make a tragically extreme choice.
He would personally swing the blade against his own clansmen.
Then, bearing all the sins and hatred, walk alone in the darkness.
All for that ridiculous, illusory "peace" in his heart.
How foolish.
"That's it?" Sora asked again, his tone carrying feigned innocent confusion.
"Don't you have... any thoughts of your own?"
"Like becoming a legendary Sannin like Lord Jiraiya? Or surpassing all previous Hokage to become the strongest?"
Itachi's body stiffened imperceptibly.
His own thoughts?
From the moment he could remember, his life had been planned out clearly.
At four, he witnessed the horrors of war.
At five, he graduated from the ninja academy.
At seven, he became a chūnin.
At eleven, he joined ANBU.
He was the pride of the Uchiha clan, his father's greatest expectation, the village's proclaimed genius.
He had too much to carry.
So much that he'd long forgotten what he himself had originally wanted.
"My thoughts aren't important." Itachi's voice lowered.
"What's important is how to maintain balance between the village and the clan."
"Hah."
Sora couldn't help but laugh out loud.
His laughter made the air in the woods freeze for a moment.
Itachi looked up, puzzled.
"Sorry, sorry." Sora waved his hand, but there was no apology on his face—only a knowing amusement.
"I just think your idea is... interesting."
"Itachi, have you ever considered one question?"
Sora sat up straight, his amber eyes gleaming strangely under the tree shade.
"Why must you choose between the village and the clan?"
Itachi's pupils contracted sharply.
The question struck like lightning, cleaving through all the fog in his mind.
Yeah.
Why must he choose?
"Because... it's an irreconcilable contradiction." His answer was strained and weak.
"Bullshit irreconcilable!"
Sora swore outright, standing up and stepping onto a smooth rock by the stream.
"That's just because you're not strong enough!"
His voice wasn't loud, but it hammered heavily into Itachi's heart.
"So-called choices, so-called sacrifices—they're just excuses for the weak!"
"If Uchiha Fugaku had the power of the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama, would he need to play those underhanded political games with the village higher-ups? He could just take the Hokage seat directly!"
"If the Third Hokage had overwhelming strength, would he need to fear the Uchiha or use you to counter your clan? He could just issue orders and make everyone submit willingly!"
Every word from Sora was blunt, crude, yet precisely tore away the fig leaf called "peace," exposing the bloodiest reality beneath.
Power.
The root of everything was power.
Itachi was completely stunned.
He had never considered the problem from this angle.
All the education he'd received, everything he'd seen, told him to endure, compromise, sacrifice for the greater good.
But the boy before him, in the most arrogant posture, told him it was all wrong.
"So-called balance is just helpless compromise when both sides are evenly matched."
Sora turned back, a brilliant—almost blinding—smile on his face.
"And what I want to do is shatter that balance!"
"Become the strongest, the one and only, with the final say!"
"Itachi, don't you think that instead of agonizing over choices, it's better to strive to become the one who leaves others no choice?"
"When you're strong enough, your will becomes the rule."
"You can protect the village and shelter your clan. You can complete missions and preserve your comrades."
"You can have everything you want, without painfully choosing what to lose."
His words rang out powerfully.
Itachi felt his worldview being brutally torn apart and reshaped by a barbaric force.
Yeah.
If... if he had the power of the First Hokage...
Would his father's ambitions and the village's suspicions still exist?
Would that dilemma haunting him for countless nights still be a dead end?
No.
As long as he was strong enough.
Strong enough to suppress all dissent.
Strong enough to stand above all rules.
Then everything he cherished could be preserved.
No sacrifices, no betrayal, no... massacre.
A completely new path, one he'd never imagined, slowly unfolded before him.
A domineering path to absolute power.
"I..." Itachi opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry to form a full syllable.
He looked at Sora's energetic, smiling face and those pure amber eyes.
This teammate who usually seemed a bit airheaded and warmly outgoing like a little sun actually harbored such terrifying, world-dominating ambition deep inside.
"Haha, do you think I'm daydreaming?" Sora scratched his head, reverting to his honest look.
"Can't help it—I'm greedy. I want everything and don't want to give up anything."
"So I have to desperately get stronger."
He said it as if it were the most natural thing.
Itachi stared at him, speechless for a long while.
Greedy...?
Perhaps that was the most correct answer.
"Alright! Rested enough!" Sora stretched, brushing off the dust.
"Sentimental time over! Time to head back to the village! If we don't hurry, Ichiraku's special chashu will sell out!"
He reverted to his carefree self, as if those world-shaking words were just casual nonsense.
Itachi silently stood, stowing his canteen.
His movements remained steady.
But only he knew what massive waves had surged in his heart.
Sora took the lead, walking toward the Land of Fire.
"Let's go, Itachi! Keep up!"
Itachi watched his back—that straight figure in the sunlight.
He paused for a moment.
"Sora-senpai."
Sora stopped and turned, a hint of confusion on his face. "Hm? What's up?"
Itachi looked up, and for the first time, something called "light" burned in those bottomless black eyes.
"That kind of future..."
"Can it really... be achieved?"
Sora saw the ignited light in Itachi's black eyes, and his smile grew even brighter.
It was the pleased smile of a hunter whose prey had finally stepped into the trap.
He took two steps forward, closing the distance to just one step.
"Of course it can."
His answer was light yet certain, carrying an enticing power.
"As long as we're strong enough."
"Strong enough that the Hokage seat has no one else but us."
"Strong enough that the Uchiha clan takes pride in you, rather than seeing you as a tool for seizing power."
"Strong enough that the entire ninja world trembles under our will."
He reached out and heavily patted Itachi's shoulder.
"By then, Itachi, everything you cherish will be safe."
"Because we'll write the rules."
Itachi's body shook slightly from the force.
He didn't dodge.
He just quietly felt the warmth from the shoulder and the scorching ambition in those words.
"I..."
Itachi tried to say something.
But Sora withdrew his hand, turned around, and reverted to his lazy demeanor.
"Alright, alright, future big shot—right now we're just two grubby unlucky guys who barely escaped."
He stretched, joints cracking loudly.
"Hurry back to the village—my stomach's protesting."
This abrupt shift left Itachi's newly ignited passion hanging mid-air.
He looked at Sora's unguarded back, feeling a mix of emotions.
Was this guy really only thirteen?
Sometimes innocently bright, sometimes deep as the sea.
Sometimes arrogantly domineering, sometimes lazily casual.
He couldn't see through him at all.
But one thing he was certain of.
Following this person might truly lead to a completely different future.
...
His strength was growing too fast.
Sora thought silently as he walked ahead.
Top-tier Uzumaki Physique, Wood Release, Mangekyō Sharingan, Flying Thunder God, Tailed Beast Ball—and now Magnet Release: Gold Dust and Air Sand Bullet added.
His trump cards were overflowing.
His mindset was even getting a bit cocky.
He'd actually started painting big pictures for Uchiha Itachi, instilling such subversive ideas.
Sigh, my damn talent.
Sora inwardly rebuked himself insincerely.
But...
Since he'd already painted the picture, he might as well see the effect.
Was this potential stock, Uchiha Itachi, worth such heavy investment?
He suddenly felt he could do something bolder.
A test.
An ultimate test of trust.
Sora abruptly stopped.
Itachi behind him halted instantly—clean and silent.
"What's wrong, Sora-senpai?"
Sora slowly turned.
The signature energetic smile on his face vanished.
In its place was unprecedented solemnity and seriousness.
His amber eyes quietly fixed on Itachi—no longer pure and clear, but bottomless, heavy vortices.
The wind in the woods seemed to still.
The air grew thick and oppressive.
Itachi's heart tightened inexplicably.
He sensed it.
A tense atmosphere like the calm before a storm.
"Itachi."
Sora spoke, two words devoid of emotion.
"Can I trust you?"
The question pierced the delicate calm between them like an invisible blade.
Trust?
Itachi's mind raced.
They were teammates, comrades who'd just escaped death together in Sunagakure.
Why ask this?
Did it mean...
He recalled Sora's shocking "theory of power."
Was he about to do something that even he felt would shake the foundation of "trust"?
Itachi didn't answer immediately.
He studied Sora's serious face for clues.
But he failed.
That face was now a perfect mask—flawless.
Dead silence around them.
Only the stream's flow reminded time was passing.
After a long while.
Itachi finally gave his answer.
Solemn, the creed etched into his soul after endless consideration.
"As long as you don't do anything to harm the village."
He enunciated clearly.
"You can always trust me."
That was his bottom line.
His promise.
The village above all.
It was the education he'd received since childhood, the vow he'd made after witnessing war.
Hearing this, Sora fell silent.
He just stared at Itachi.
The atmosphere grew oppressively heavy.
Itachi even prepared for combat.
If Sora's next action crossed his line, even if they were recent comrades, he'd draw his blade without hesitation.
Then.
"Pfft."
Sora suddenly laughed.
The tense, serious expression melted like ice, crumbling instantly.
He reverted to the sunny boy, laughing so hard he nearly teared up.
"Hahahaha, Itachi, you're too funny!"
He waved while laughing.
"Why so serious? I was just joking! Look how tense you got!"
Itachi: "..."
He froze completely.
Joking?
That suffocating atmosphere earlier was just a joke?
A surge of anger at being toyed with rose from his heart.
But before he could react, Sora sidled up and slung an arm around his shoulders like buddies.
"What are you saying? My goal is to become Hokage."
Sora's voice returned to its easy, cheerful tone. He blinked innocently, face full of "how could you think that?"
"How could I harm the village?"
"A proper Hokage has to protect everyone in the village—including you, my most important comrade!"
His words were righteous, full of youthful passion and innocence.
The spark of anger in Itachi's heart was instantly doused.
Yeah.
He wanted to become Hokage.
He'd said it more than once.
Was his reaction earlier too extreme?
He was just a teammate with a bit of a bad personality who liked uncomfortable pranks.
Itachi silently found a reasonable explanation for both himself and Sora's behavior.
He was about to say something to ease the awkwardness.
However.
In the instant he fully let down his guard.
Sora, arm around his shoulders and whispering in his ear—those always-smiling amber eyes changed without warning.
The pure amber faded in a flash.
Replaced by piercing crimson.
On that crimson base, three black tomoe slowly, elegantly spun.
Three-tomoe Sharingan.
Time seemed to freeze.
The relaxed expression on Itachi's face solidified completely.
His body stiffened like stone.
All his words, thoughts, emotions—shattered the moment he saw those eyes.
He just stared blankly.
At the boy with an arm around his shoulders, still wearing a bright smile.
At those crimson eyes that shouldn't belong to him.
Uchiha Itachi's brain crashed.
Time, space, the stream's flow, birdsong in the woods.
Everything was stripped away the instant those crimson eyes appeared.
The world became a still, silent black-and-white painting.
The only color was the piercing crimson before him—and the three slowly spinning black tomoe within.
Sharingan.
Three-tomoe Sharingan.
The Uchiha clan's bloodline limit.
Why?
How?
Genjutsu?
No.
His own Sharingan was already active; no genjutsu could invade this deeply without him noticing.
It was... real.
The thought burned like a hot branding iron on his nerves.
Akashi Sora possessed the Sharingan.
This fact was more absurd, more worldview-shattering than the One-Tail exploding right in front of him.
The Uchiha bloodline was closed, proud, unique.
It was common knowledge etched into every clansman's bones—an unbreakable truth of the ninja world.
But now, that truth was shattered.
Utterly.
Sora's smile remained bright.
His arm around Itachi's shoulders stayed steady and strong.
As if he'd just done the most ordinary thing.
Like blinking.
Then, the crimson and black receded like a tide.
Pure, warm amber reclaimed his eyes.
As if everything earlier was an illusion.
But Itachi knew it wasn't.
The soul-deep tremor from being scrutinized by higher-level ocular power lingered.
"Itachi."
Sora's voice stayed light and cheerful.
"Your expression's so stiff."
"Relax—I won't eat you."
Itachi didn't speak.
He stood rigidly, every muscle taut from overwhelming shock.
He didn't know what to say or do.
His mind was blank.
All logic, all common sense—bankrupt in this moment.
Seeing him like this, Sora's smile softened a bit; he scratched his head with a troubled, innocent look.
"Sigh, I knew it'd be like this."
He released Itachi's shoulder and stepped back, creating some distance.
"I don't understand this thing myself."
"Actually, I've been wondering..."
Sora crouched, picked up a pebble, and idly tossed it into the stream, creating small ripples.
"Do you think... one of my ancestors might have been from the Uchiha clan?"
The words were soft.
Yet they exploded like a bombshell in Itachi's blank mind.
What?
An ancestor from the Uchiha?
What kind of outrageous guess was that?
"So... I figure I count as part of the Uchiha clan too, right?"
Sora looked up, tone probing and uncertain as he gazed at Itachi.
"Even if my name's not in the clan records, these eyes don't lie, do they?"
Itachi: "..."
He felt his thoughts being brutally torn apart by an incomprehensible force.
A lost Uchiha bloodline member?
It wasn't unprecedented in Uchiha history.
But those were traceable, recorded.
Akashi Sora—a war orphan with a background clean as blank paper.
How could it be...
"Don't look at me like that—I'm troubled too."
Sora shrugged, face full of "I'm helpless about this."
"This secret—I've never told anyone."
"The Third doesn't know, Captain Kakashi doesn't, Lord Jiraiya doesn't."
He stood, stepping close to Itachi again, amber eyes earnestly fixed on him.
"Itachi, I told you this because I trust you."
"Because we're the same."
"We're comrades, right?"
Trust... me?
Those three words rushed like a warm current into Itachi's frozen, chaotic inner world.
His whole life had been about bearing burdens.
Bearing the clan's expectations, the village's missions.
No one had ever said such words to him.
No one had shared a world-shaking secret with him.
Not as an order, mission, or expectation.
But... trust.
Pure, equal trust between partners.
This sudden trust was too heavy.
Heavy enough to leave him momentarily at a loss.
His heart shook violently.
On one side: deeply rooted Uchiha pride and common sense.
On the other: the boy's unreserved honesty before him, those amber eyes full of sincerity.
And that phrase..."We're the same."
Sora watched Itachi's internal struggle, inwardly blooming with joy.
Success.
The most masterful lie in the world was never seamless.
It was nine parts false, one part true.
The Sharingan was real.
That was enough.
As for the absurd "my ancestor was Uchiha" excuse—it was just a step.
A logical step for Itachi's stubborn, proud mind to barely accept this fact.
Now, handing over this "trust."
It was like saying: See, we're on the same side—I told you this huge secret; what reason do you have not to trust me?
Perfect.
Sora gave his operation full marks inwardly.
"Impossible."
Finally, Itachi spoke.
His voice was a bit hoarse.
"The Uchiha bloodline couldn't flow outside without records."
"Is that so?" Sora countered immediately, face showing just the right childlike curiosity and defiance.
"But what if? Like hundreds of years ago, or during the ninja wars—chaos everywhere, some Uchiha ancestor left blood outside, then died in battle, and the clan never knew. Isn't that normal?"
"History's so long—there are always oversights."
It sounded like sophistry.
But for some reason, it loosened Itachi's taut logic chain a bit.
Yeah.
History... always has oversights.
Nothing is absolute.
"Alright, alright! Forget it!"
Sora clapped suddenly, reverting to carefree.
"Being Uchiha or not won't fill my stomach!"
"More importantly, I'm starving! Let's hurry back to the village!"
He once again brutally interrupted the heavy, eerie atmosphere.
He grabbed Itachi's wrist, ready to run toward the Land of Fire.
"Itachi, let me tell you—Ichiraku's new deluxe chashu tonkotsu ramen is amazing! When we get back, we have to..."
His words cut off abruptly.
Because Itachi didn't move.
Sora turned, puzzled.
Itachi kept his head down, bangs hiding his expression.
He just reached out with his other hand, gently placing it on Sora's hand gripping his wrist.
Then, word by word, he asked softly.
"By telling me all this... what do you want me to do?"