The dimly lit room was heavy with tension, the flickering candlelight casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. The Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, sat behind his desk, his aged face etched with lines of regret and resolve. Before him stood Itachi Uchiha, his expression calm but resolute, his dark eyes betraying no hint of the turmoil within.
"Have you made up your mind?" Hiruzen's voice broke the silence, his tone solemn and weighted with the gravity of the situation.
"Yes, Lord Third," Itachi replied without hesitation, his voice steady despite the enormity of the task before him. He raised his head, meeting the Hokage's gaze with unwavering determination.
Hiruzen leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the desk. "I want to thank you," he said, his voice carrying a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "Because of your sacrifice, Konoha will avoid a civil war, and the peace of the village will be preserved."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken consequences. Hiruzen's eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of regret crossing his weathered face. "Unfortunately, I have not found any other suitable method than this," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.
He paused, his gaze drifting to the window, where the moon hung low in the night sky. "But even so," he continued, his tone firming, "I regret that there was no other way. Don't worry about Sasuke; I will take care of him. He will grow into a respectable shinobi of the Leaf."
Itachi nodded, his expression unreadable but his voice heavy with emotion. "Thank you, Lord Third."
Hiruzen's gaze returned to Itachi, his voice now steeled with resolve. "I am the only one who knows about this mission. After tonight, you will be listed in the Bingo Book as an S-rank rogue ninja—a traitor who destroyed his clan for his own gain. You will be hunted endlessly by Konoha's forces."
"That goes without saying," Itachi replied, his voice firm and unwavering. He had long accepted the burden of his role, the weight of his sacrifice etched into every fiber of his being.
The Hokage's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone shifting to one of caution. "And what of your plans afterward?"
Itachi's gaze remained steady. "I intend to join a mercenary organization composed of rogue S-rank ninjas from other villages. From within, I will monitor their movements and gather intelligence."
Hiruzen nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "A dangerous path," he murmured. "But one that may serve Konoha well."
Itachi reached for the cat-faced mask resting on the table, its blank expression a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within him. He secured it over his face, the mask transforming him into a shadow—a nameless, faceless entity. Without another word, he vanished in a swirl of leaves, leaving only silence in his wake.
Hiruzen watched the space where Itachi had stood, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the night's decisions. "Take care, Itachi," he whispered to the empty room, his voice barely audible. "Prepare carefully."
Outside, the night was eerily still, the moon casting a pale glow over the village. Hundreds of black-clad ANBU operatives materialized from the shadows, their presence as silent and deadly as the night itself. They bowed briefly to the Hokage before dispersing, their movements swift and precise as they moved toward the Uchiha compound.
Hiruzen stepped out onto the balcony, his pipe in hand. He took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled into the night air. The stars above seemed distant and cold, their light offering no comfort. Tonight's operation was led by Danzo, the shadow to Hiruzen's light. While the Hokage represented the village's ideals, Danzo embodied its darker necessities. Together, they ensured Konoha's survival—no matter the cost.
But even as he trusted Danzo to handle the mission, Hiruzen had dispatched his most trusted ANBU team to oversee the operation. He could not afford any mistakes, not when the fate of the village hung in the balance.
The Uchiha Compound
In a small courtyard within the Uchiha district, Kaito Uchiha stood amidst a group of clansmen, their faces etched with anger and disbelief. The air was thick with tension, the calm of the night shattered by the weight of betrayal.
"Kaito," a young man spat, his voice trembling with rage, "did Itachi really betray us?!"
The courtyard, once a place of tranquility with its neatly arranged stones and blooming flowers, now felt like a battleground. Kaito's expression was grim, his mind racing as he processed the unfolding events. He had always suspected that something was amiss, but the reality was far worse than he had imagined.
Before Kaito could respond, a distant sound echoed through the compound—a faint rustling, like the whisper of death approaching. The clansmen tensed, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.
Kaito's eyes narrowed, his Sharingan activating as he scanned the darkness. "Prepare yourselves," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Tonight, we fight not just for our lives, but for the soul of the Uchiha clan."
The night was no longer calm. The storm had arrived.