Tsunami wasn’t pleased to find us alone with her son. She stood in the doorway, her face drawn tight, suspicion in her eyes. We motioned for her to sit, and after a moment's hesitation, she did, arms crossed, her gaze never leaving us.

“You want to be Inari’s guardian?” Her tone betrayed her confusion, her scepticism growing. “Aren’t you a bit young to be thinking about becoming someone else’s guardian?”

I smiled, small and measured. “My age is irrelevant. What matters here is Inari’s future. We’ve already spoken, your son and I. He told me about Kaiza, about what happened. And I think, as you know well, your father, Tazuna, may have met a similar fate. I’d rather not see the boy fall to the same misfortune.”

Her eyes flickered briefly to Inari, whose expression remained as blank as ever. She hesitated, her confusion deepening.

“Inari told you about Kaiza?” she asked, her voice soft, bewildered.

I nodded. “Yes.” A lie. The boy wouldn’t betray us. Not now.

“I hope that’s alright?”

“...I suppose.” Tsunami’s voice faltered. Silence lingered between us, thick with unspoken doubts. Finally, she met my gaze again. “And what exactly does your guardianship entail?”

“Support. Financial. For food, clothes, education. I’ll leave a clone here to protect you both and oversee Inari’s growth.”

Her suspicion softened, but only just. “That’s… generous,” she said. “Thank you.”

I rose from my seat. “It’s nothing,” I said. “Though for discretion’s sake, I’ll need to create an alibi for the clone. He’ll show up as an old friend of Kaiza, maybe a brother. Just act natural when he arrives. The house might be under watch for a while.”

Her expression flickered, but she nodded slowly. “I understand.”

I turned to Inari, the boy’s eyes fixed on mine, unblinking. “Be good,” I said, placing a hand on his head. “I’m here now. No one will hurt you or your mother again. I promise.”

----------------------------------------

We arrived at the rendezvous point the team agreed upon earlier as Naruto and Sakura emerged from the trees, Naruto fuming.

“That Gatō bastard!” Naruto spat, fists clenched at his sides. Kakashi trailed behind, book in hand, unbothered. In the distance, we felt his shadow clone dissolve, Kakashi’s eye flicking to meet ours in silent acknowledgement.

“How did it go?” he asked, his voice casual.

“Productive,” we answered. “We have a description of the missing-nin hired to kill the architect. Likely Kirigakure. Though by now, they must have erased their tracks.”

Kakashi nodded, eyes still on his book. “That concludes it, then. We found an unmarked grave northeast of here. The body matches Gatō’s description. Seems he was killed by the very missing-nin he hired. Couldn’t pay them, I guess. He was a nasty one. Drugs, human trafficking…”

He shook his head, closing the book. “What now, Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura asked.

“We wait a bit longer,” Kakashi said, “then return to the village. We’ll report what we found.”

Naruto’s face twisted in anger. “We’re just going to leave these people like this? After everything Gatō did?”

Kakashi ruffled his hair. “We’ll inform the Hokage. Aid will come, but we can’t act on our own. There’s balance we have to respect, as Sasuke said. The local lords, the Daimyō—they need to be involved if this place is to recover. It’s not something we can solve alone. Understand?”

Naruto’s face fell. “Yeah, Kakashi-sensei…”

----------------------------------------

Three weeks later, we returned to the Land of Fire. The mission, by most standards, was a success. The missing-nin responsible for Gatō’s death remained a mystery, though Kakashi had his suspicions. Our first B-rank mission was complete. No losses. Mission accomplished. But the others didn’t see it that way. They still clung to thoughts naive.

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It didn’t matter. We moved towards the village gates. We were adjusting our pack when something stopped us.

We froze.

“Sasuke?” Kakashi’s voice, confused.

We ignored him, barely hearing the thud of our pack sliding off our shoulders to the ground as we surged forward, faster than thought, homing in on the chakra signature we knew all too well. Rage unfurled in our chest like a dark flame. What we felt burned into us, seething like a flame stoked too long.

Loathing.

There, standing just beyond the gates, was the one we’d sought for so long. The weasel.

He turned, slowly, his expression blank, unreadable. Beside him, a stranger—tall, cloaked, wielding a strange, bandaged sword.

“Who’s the kid?” the stranger in the cloak of black with red clouds asked, his tone indifferent.

The weasel said nothing, his eyes locked with ours, dark and empty.

“Sasuke…” he breathed.

Two things happened.

Our chakra surged.

Hell followed.

----------------------------------------

We ripped through the layers of Genjutsu, the weasel’s intricate design falling away in shreds. In a heartbeat, we stood before him, kunai aimed at his gut. With a single hand, we made the familiar signs—our chakra, already halved, split yet again, four ways. Two shadow clones peeled from us, half-formed, their upper bodies protruding from our waist. One clone raised its kunai to intercept the massive blade that cleaved toward our back, while the other swiftly began weaving hand signs.

Itachi caught our blade with his own, his expression as unreadable as ever. He stared down at us, eyes like still water.

“Hello, Itachi,” we said, meeting his gaze. Behind us, his accomplice, a gilled man, stood deadlocked with the half-formed clone. His surprise was almost tangible as he looked down at his feet, realising too late that shadows now anchored him—and Itachi—firmly in place.

“Kisame, isn’t it?” we said lightly, his name coming to mind. “Apologies for dragging you into this. I hope you won’t mind if my brother and I catch up for a moment.”

The gilled man chuckled, straining against the binds, staring into the clone’s eyes like a good fool. “You never mentioned having a little brother, Itachi,” he said, amusement in his voice. “I thought you killed them all—”

“Kisame, close your—” the weasel warned. We smiled.

Too late.

"Sōzōamatsukami: Yomi’s Garden."

A sharp pain bloomed behind our right eye, a familiar sensation as the world peeled away. The air grew thick, the weight of death settling into place. Above us, the sky darkened, our celestial Sharingan hovering like a vengeful star, glaring down. A mist rose from the ground, thick as oil, and the earth beneath us slickened, crystalline and slick. Shadows ballooned grotesquely, towering over us as skeletal trees erupted from the ground.

Kisame collapsed to the earth behind me, limp and silent. Our eyes stayed on Itachi, his Mangekyō spinning, resisting. Tendrils of shadow coiled around his eyes, pinning his eyelids open, just as they had done to his partner.

“You resist,” we smiled, the faintest hint of amusement in my voice. “But not for long.”

The moment stretched, Itachi’s will crumbling under ours, his Mangekyō spinning slower, weakening. We could feel it—the inevitable grind, the slow erosion of his self. His ego. Soon enough, he would falter, as they all did. He would die here—

“Amaterasu!”

We flickered away, but the backlash hit us with the force of a collapsing world. The sudden rupture of the Sōzōamatsukami tore through our body like a shockwave, and we gasped as our chakra buckled beneath the strain. The sound—the dreadful, infernal sound—reached us only moments later, the crackling heat of black flames creeping up our right arm. Our chakra churned, trying to douse them, but they only burned faster. We summoned a blade of energy in our left hand and sliced the burning limb free.

It hit the ground, smouldering. A shame.

We looked up, half-blind, our good eye finding the weasel again. He began to weave another Genjutsu, but we batted it away with ease, the exhaustion in his movements betraying him.

He was tired. So were we. More so, perhaps.

A crackling sound filled the air—Chidori. Boom! The tree behind Itachi exploded into smouldering dust, Kakashi’s attack missing its mark by inches, thrown off by another of the weasel’s illusions.

Itachi stared at him with cold disdain. “Tsukuyomi,” he murmured, and the Jonin’s body seized, knees buckling before he collapsed, panting, his chakra fading rapidly.

“W-what do you want?” Kakashi rasped.

Itachi said nothing. He hoisted his partner over his shoulder, turning to leave, indifferent.

“Next time,” we rasped, voice clawing through the pain, “I’ll kill you.”.

The weasel paused, silent, then vanished into the trees, swallowed by the shadows. Gone.

We didn’t move. Couldn’t. Muscles locked from exhaustion, chakra burning like fire in our veins. One step further and we’d be defenceless, unable to fight back if he returned. Amaterasu still chewed at the remains of our arm, the unholy fire consuming it slowly, endlessly.

"Well," we whispered, the smoke curling up into the night. "That was impulsive."