I had assumed that life would be simple and easy for me as a kid in Konoha after that dinner with the 4th and his wife. That was until I had eavesdropped on a conversation between two Jōnin in the training grounds.
"—western flank is gone," the older jounin grumbled and clenched his fists over his sake glass, as if he wanted to crush it. His peer, a woman who tied her hair back so tightly that it tugged at her eyes, lowered her head. "Don't be ridiculous. The Third would not have given that up unless—"
I stopped in my tracks behind an oak tree as I held my breath at the age of thirteen. War? What? That was not supposed to happen for years yet, not until Madara would play his pawns from behind the curtain.
The woman dropped her voice a notch. "—unless Kumo is putting more pressure on us than we estimated. You saw what happened in the peace conference. They had the audacity to—"
His partner made a sharp hissing sound and twitched his chin towards the bushes in which I was hiding. I pressed my back to the bark of the oak, and I could have sworn they heard my heartbeat. The sake glass cracked between the older jounin's fingers.
"Shut up!" he growled. "Unless you want the whole village to know that Kumo tried to steal a Hyuga's eyes during the peace talks."
Those words struck me like a shuriken to my abdomen. It was Hinata. It had to be her. She was going to get kidnapped years later, but here it was. Another alteration to the timeline like a flawed patch on a torn mission scroll. My fingernails dug into the bark as I felt splinters pierce my skin. If Kumo had already struck, then… then all of this was going to be accelerated.
It actually made sense. Konoha was at the pinnacle of its power. The Nanadaime Hokage—Minato—was alive and kicking, his wife Kushina still had Kurama, we still had the full power of the Saanin (Orochimaru hadn't betrayed the village yet). We also had Hiruzen Sarutobi, Fugaku Uchiha, Danzo Shimura, and many others. Kumo was scared. And when people were scared, they did stupid things.
They were not going to admit to what they had done—not on paper. But rumour spread faster than official messages in the shinobi world. The Hyuga incident was already burning through Konoha like a wild flame through a field of dry wheat, but outside our borders? Complete silence. Kumo would spin this as aggression from Konoha if we responded. And if we did not? They would think of it as a sign of weakness. A catch-22, all dressed up in political rhetoric.
I clenched my teeth. So everything I had just explained basically meant that before I even possessed this body I had already been in a war I knew nothing about. I had to climb the ladder and become powerful—more powerful than I already was.
Thankfully, unlike canon Itachi—who relied solely on his innate abilities up until Shisui's death—I at least had the knowledge of what untapped potential looked like, sitting in between one's talents and work ethic.
Being born with the Sharingan active at the age of seven had not only given me a head start; but also a curse, making me believe that physical prowess and chakra manipulation would always come so easily. War did not care about one's potential though. It cared about who's throat you could slash through quicker.
I pushed myself off the oak tree and scraped a splinter out of my hand before I disappeared into the shadows of the training grounds before the jounin could even see me.
###
I had no idea how this was going to play out, but I figured she was the one person who wouldn't immediately question my motives for an unscheduled visit. Kushina was very close friends with Mikoto, in other words, she was my aunt. So I knocked three times—sharply and deliberately—on the door of the Namikaze residence.
The door slid open in a time quicker than expected, with Kushina caught with a mouthful of what seemed to be Minato's stolen gyoza. She paused mid chew, puffed out her cheeks like a squirrel and then swallowed audibly.
"Itachi!" She beamed with a full-toothed smile, wiping her hand on her apron before snatching my wrist and pulling me inside. "You never come by! Come in come in—Minato is off doing Hokage business, and I'm so boooored."
I could smell the miso soup along with something charred as she pulled me towards the kitchen, where a boiling pot of who-knows-what seemed to have been left unattended on the stove.
Kushina kicked a chair in my direction, still blabbering away to herself. "Mikoto told me you've been training like crazy recently—don't think I haven't heard about those three hour katas you do before the crack of dawn. What, you think civilian life is too slow for you?"
I allowed her to continue, observing as she used one hand to stir the pot and the other to catch a dumpling. The kitchen was nice and warm, with scrolls only partially unrolled and a precarious tower of sealing paper. Perfect.
"Kushina-obasan," I said, dropping my voice into the tone a child would use when asking for a favor. "I need… something impossible."
She snorted, tossing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Brat, I contain the Nine-Tails before breakfast. Try me."
I blew out through my nose, rapping two fingers against the table—a nervous gesture borrowed from my host's youth. "Weighted seals. One for resistance, one for chakra suppression. Adjustable."
Kushina paused, mid-bite. Then she laughed—that laugh, the one that made civilian women tighten their grip on their children in the marketplace. "What, ANBU captain not beating you up enough?" She gestured at me with her chopsticks. "They're already complaining that you're finishing S-rank scrolls in less time than it takes them to drink their coffee."
I dropped my shoulders—not too far, just enough—and gazed into the boiling pot as if it had all the answers in the universe. "I know. But…" I paused just long enough to appear vulnerable, then looked up at her with the same expression I'd given Fugaku when he'd caught me sneaking out to train at 3 AM. "What if it's not enough?"
Kushina's chopsticks halted, halfway to her mouth. The dumpling dropped, splattering its fillings on the counter where the scrolls were scattered. She didn't flinch. "Tch." Her free hand shot out, hitting the back of my head with just enough force to make it sting. "Cut the act, brat. You look like a lost puppy that someone just kicked into a puddle."
Damn. I rubbed the sore spot where her calloused fingers had connected, allowing my shoulders to slump a little further. Thirteen years old and I couldn't even play innocent properly—pitiful. But then her palm settled on my head, warm and rough, mussing my hair as if I were no older than Naruto.
"Fine," she muttered, stuffing the whole dumpling into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged as she chewed, and then she pointed at me with her chopsticks.
"But you're going to test these seals right in front of me. Last time I made adjustable weights for some hotshot jounin, he decided to show off in Kiri and sank like a stone into a swamp." She swallowed. "Literally."
I blinked. That... sounded a lot like the shit Might Guy was always going on about when he got drunk. About how he'd trained with rocks underwater.
She whirled around to face the shelves again, kicking scrolls flying as she tore a blank from her mouth, biting down on it. The brush appeared in her hand before I even registered she was moving - probably some sort of seal on her clothes or something that Minato-sensei had taught her or whatever - and she was drawing before the paper even touched the counter.
"First, physical resistance," she muttered to herself, the tip of her tongue clenched between her teeth. It wasn't the precise lines and geometric shapes of regular sealing techniques; it was wild, slashing strokes that somehow drew mathematically perfect spirals. "You ever tried to move through molasses while a swarm of bees attacked your eyes? No? Well, you're gonna find out."
The seal flashed red as she slapped it onto my arm - directly onto my skin, no paper needed or anything. My entire nervous system went 'KA-BOOM' as if I had just replaced all of my bone marrow with hot, liquid lightning or something. My knee buckled and I thudded to the floor. Kushina just laughed, showing all her teeth. "One to ten. I'll start you at... three."
I gasped, my fingernails scraping against the wood floor. Three... felt like someone had dipped all my major muscle groups in liquid cement and then left me out in the hot sun all day to set. My chakra responded like molasses. Just... perfect.
"Five," I panted.
Her grin grew. The brush flashed red again and she slapped another stroke onto my arm - and suddenly my ribcage felt like it had been wrapped up in a band of hot iron. I was sweating, water droplets falling from my chin to patter on the creaking floorboards.
"Can you still breathe?" she asked, reaching out to poke me in the forehead with her inky brush callus. I managed a nod, though my eyes blurred at the edges. She just laughed, a bright, cheerful sound. "Good, because I'm going to be adjusting those seals every day until you can walk around at a ten without throwing up."
She pulsed them again - this time turning it down to a two - and I forced myself back to my feet, hauling myself up with one hand on the table edge. At two, it felt like I had chains wrapped around my wrists and ankles, but I could handle it. I could definitely train with this. It was... just what I'd needed.
"Arigato, Kushina-obasan," I said, bowing low. Dizziness washed over me at the movement. "I won't disappoint."
Kushina snorted, flicking the spot of ink on my cheek. "Like hell you won't. I expect to see you crawling back here tomorrow and asking me to turn it down to a one." Her hard, scarred hands closed around my shoulders then and yanked me forward into a hug that smelled like dumpling grease and ozone.
For a woman who had literally fought the Kyuubi her arms around me were surprisingly tight, she didn't break my bones, but she creaked my ribcage, "Stubborn brat..." she whispered into my ear, "Just like your mother."
I tensed, the last time Mikoto had hugged me this way was after my first ANBU mission went sideways... when I still thought being a true shinobi meant following orders unquestioningly. Kushina's hands tightened around my shoulders pulling me closer as if she sensed the involuntary muscle spasm.
"Ow..." I mumbled into her apron, it smelled like burnt miso soup.
Kushina let me go with a warm chuckle and hit me on the back with enough force to send me stumbling towards the door. "Out of here with you! before I decide level three was too gentle." she waved the now calligraphy brush at me like it was a weapon, "And eat something other than those awful ration bars! You look starved!"
The door slammed shut behind me, maybe a bit too hard, leaving me in the late afternoon stillness of the Hokage's neighbourhood. The weight sealed pulsed against my arm, it was like a second heartbeat now. Even my clothes felt heavier, they felt like they were pulling against the skin of my arm which was still buzzing from the sealing.
This is exactly what I need. The only thing I needed. I didn't need to spend hours practicing moves and learning jutsu when my eyes can steal entire techniques in the middle of a fight and my chakra paths can remember copied jutsu better than their originators. The Sharingan was more than just an attack, it was the ultimate cheat. In a few months I will be stronger than any Kage, and with my newfound strength, I will end this war by myself. The sharingan and this seal was really the finish.
I made my way through the back streets of the village letting the drag of the weight seal slow my pace enough to feel the strain in my legs. I moved in the shadows out of habit rather than any real need, I'd spent a lot of my life sneaking around. I approached the Uchiha district gates where two clansmen were on sentry duty. They snapped to attention as I approached. I didn't slow down.
"Where's Shisui?" I called out just loud enough to be heard over the distant noise of the market.
The elder guard, Hikaku, one of Fugaku's strongest supporters, didn't even blink. "Training field seven. Again." His fingers flicked towards his tantou, the motion was a little too deliberate to be accidental. "You Uchiha hotshots are going to rub holes into the ground."
I smiled and touched the new seal on my arm. It throbbed with each pace, like liquid lead in my blood. "Relay to Fugaku-sama that I will be home by midnight."
Hikaku snorted. "As if the clan head could stop you."
There was only one person left on the training field: a figure performing a Katana kata so fast his sword was leaving a trail behind it, like sparks frozen in the fading light. Shisui didn't stop when I drew near, but his Sharingan glowed red when the toe of my sandal crunched in the gravel.
"Where have you been?" Shisui asked, his tone neutral, his Katana never stopping, weaving and slicing the air between us like a hot knife. "I went to the archives, the training fields, even that ANBU locker room you like so much." The tip of his Katana landed on my neck, just short of touching. "Nowhere to be found. Again."
I breathed out slowly and let the weight's seal spread my feet further apart. "Visiting family." Shisui raised an eyebrow. His Katana pressed down on my neck. "Kushina-obasan invited me to lunch."
His Sharingan whirled once, and his Katana arm dropped away. "Bullshit. You never eat." He sheathed his Katana. It sounded like a sigh. "Besides, Mikoto-obasan said you missed breakfast again."
I spread my fingers. I could feel the weight's seal crawling through my chakra pathways like liquid lead. Kushina's seal was working fast. "I had to make space for her food."