Chapter 14: A Chance Encounter
Leaving the apartment behind, Shuichi Mayumi had shifted back to his primary disguise: the one-armed civilian, Shuichi. He moved at a leisurely pace down the street, the occasional passerby paying him no mind. At some point, he had plucked a bright red rose, its stem tucked into his belt. He walked slowly, plucking the petals one by one with his single hand, letting them fall like drops of blood to the pavement.
"Open… don't open… open… don't open… open…"
Soon, the bloom was stripped bare, save for one last petal. He plucked it, holding the crimson fragment between his fingers, studying it as if it held an answer.
"Forget it," he murmured, letting the petal flutter from his grasp. "Too much trouble. I don't really want to be a chef anymore."
The rose was a prop, a way to make a whimsical, arbitrary decision about a future he had no intention of pursuing. In his travel application, he'd written of plans to open a branch restaurant outside the village, to spread his culinary craft, to see the world and mend his broken spirit. It was a plausible, civilian dream. But it was just a story, a ticket out.
He'd been a chef in two lifetimes. He was tired of it. Without the anchor of a shop, he would be free. A multi-country tour sounded more appealing. Recruit more demons. As for funds… he'd have Onigarasu handle it. The crow seemed eager to please.
His meandering walk, always towards sparser areas, had brought him to the new, peripheral location of the Uchiha compound. The Nine-Tails' rampage had provided the perfect pretext for the Third Hokage to relocate the proud clan to the village's edge, far from the administrative heart. A quiet, political exile. The Hyuga, by contrast, remained comfortably central. The main and branch families can't be compared, he thought wryly.
His gaze lifted, drawn to a small figure crouched atop a telephone pole ahead, its back to him, staring intently at the Uchiha district. Even the Uchiha children have this pole-squatting hobby? What's the appeal?
"Hey! You on the pole! Get down from there!" he called out, his voice carrying a practiced note of casual authority.
The figure slowly turned. The familiar, serious young face made Shuichi pause.
Itachi.
Well, that explained it. Though not close, they were acquaintances. Since his restaurant's opening, its unique flavors had drawn a diverse clientele. Uchiha Itachi had been one, a quiet, solemn boy who seemed to find solace in the food. They'd exchanged polite words over the counter often enough.
"Ah… Brother Shuichi." Itachi's dark eyes immediately went to the empty sleeve. Recognition, then a flicker of sadness. He'd heard about the injury. He wondered, with a pang of genuine regret, if he'd ever taste those specific dishes again.
Itachi dropped from the pole with effortless grace, landing silently before him.
"Itachi, the clan grounds are right there. Isn't it late to be out?" Shuichi reached out with his good hand, ruffling the boy's dark hair. Might as well, while I still can. He wore a gentle, avuncular smile, masking the cold calculations running beneath. I'm leaving soon. The Uchiha's Sharingan… the Hyuga's Byakugan… I wonder if those bloodlines could be carried through the Blood Curse. Would a demon using the Mangekyo still go blind?
"It's nothing. Just… getting used to the new layout," Itachi replied with a small, practiced smile, deflecting. He wouldn't burden a civilian acquaintance, especially one who'd suffered so much, with the weight of his clan's tensions or his own philosophical turmoil. Shuichi wouldn't understand.
"By the way… will your restaurant reopen?" Itachi asked, shifting the topic to something safer, something he genuinely hoped for.
"Perhaps. But not by me." Shuichi's smile turned bittersweet as he gestured with his stump. "Different chefs, different flavors. I hope you find one you like."
Seeing the weary acceptance on Shuichi's face, Itachi felt that familiar, heavy stone of melancholy settle deeper in his chest. Another thing lost to the chaos. Another connection severed. The world felt increasingly fragile.
Shuichi noted the subtle shadow that crossed the boy's features. He thinks too much. Always has. Geniuses often did. Uchiha geniuses were practically wired for existential crises. To slaughter his entire clan at thirteen… the potential for catastrophic mental breakage was immense. A tragic waste of talent, to die later of some illness.
"Don't overthink things," Shuichi said, his tone softening with feigned concern. "You have a little brother, right? He's probably waiting for you. Shouldn't you head home?"
"Ah… yes. You're right." Itachi nodded, the mask of the dutiful son and brother sliding back into place.
"Young people have too much energy," Shuichi sighed, though he was only a few years older in this life. He watched as Itachi gave a small, polite bow and walked away, towards the gates of the Uchiha district.
His eyes followed the boy's retreating back, then scanned the compound beyond. The new Uchiha lands. I wonder where the Naka River shrine is now. I'll have to send Onigarasu to scout.
A cold, ambitious thought crystallized.
Uchiha Itachi might be out of reach for now… but a certain corpse by the Naka River…
Children make choices. But I? I want them both.
(End of Chapter)
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