Uchiha Fugaku's pre-war speech was nothing to write home about — just another bowl of motivational chicken soup.
Rokuro had heard enough of those in his previous life as an office worker; he'd long developed immunity. Having lived two lives now, there was no way he'd fall for that kind of psychological conditioning again.
Once the speeches were over, everyone went home to prepare. They would depart at first light.
When Rokuro returned home, his mother, Uchiha Ashikaga, was already packing.
He was about to help when a knock came at the door. Opening it, he found Itachi standing there.
"Itachi? What brings you here?"
Uchiha Kei also came forward, her gaze quietly studying the boy she had once admired — and now felt so distant from.
"It's been a while, Kei. How have you been?"
"I'm fine… You're going to the front lines too, Itachi?"
Itachi nodded slightly before turning to Rokuro.
"Can we talk?"
Rokuro frowned. Truth be told, he wasn't too keen on speaking with him. Having been steeped in traditional Eastern ideals, he found it hard to stomach someone like Itachi — a man who would one day kill his own parents.
Still, his strength wasn't yet overwhelming enough to burn every bridge, so this wasn't the time to tear off the mask.
"Fine," Rokuro said. "Let's talk outside. It'll make some people feel safer."
His tone carried a light sting of sarcasm as he stepped out.
Along the way, several clan members greeted Rokuro warmly. Itachi noticed, though he said nothing — but inside, he couldn't shake the unease building in his chest.
At last, they reached a small park within the Uchiha compound. Rokuro deliberately chose a spot under the lamplight — a place easily visible from the surveillance lines.
"The view here's good," he said evenly. "With all these lamps around, I bet the Anbu could count our eyelashes if they wanted. Whatever you came to say — say it here."
He paused, then added casually,
"Oh, by the way — I heard you've been thinking of joining the Anbu… or have you already?"
Itachi's eyes flicked instinctively toward a nearby shadow, where he knew a watcher lurked. That reaction alone told Rokuro the answer.
"…You already know?"
"Heh. Just as the Anbu keeps tabs on the Uchiha, we keep tabs on them. Both sides are filthy — no need to pretend otherwise."
Itachi ignored the jab, his gaze calm but probing.
"Rokuro… I used to think you were nothing but a sharp tongue and an inflated ego — like most of the clan did."
Rokuro didn't answer, waiting for him to continue.
"But now I see… you've been hiding your true self. Behind that arrogance, you've done something extraordinary. So many Uchiha awakening their Sharingan — some even before age ten — and so many reaching the Three Tomoe… all of that, it's your doing, isn't it?"
Rokuro's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is that your own suspicion, or Fugaku's? Did he send you to test me?"
Itachi shook his head.
"No one sent me. And they don't need to test you anymore — they're already convinced it was you."
"Then why come here at all? If they've already made up their minds, what's the point?"
Itachi drew a deep breath.
"I only want to ask one thing — is power really that important? If the Uchiha didn't have those cursed eyes… maybe we'd all be happier. Don't you think so?"
Rokuro's expression shifted slightly. For a brief moment, he recalled a scene from the original timeline — four-year-old Itachi asking Orochimaru about the meaning of life.
The irony wasn't lost on him. Same boy, same question — only the words were different this time.
"Tell me, young master," Rokuro said dryly. "Are you really that naive, or just pretending to be? You've been on the battlefield. You've seen what happens to civilians in war, haven't you? You talk about happiness — then go ask those war-torn peasants how happy they are."
He took a step forward, his tone sharpening.
"If that doesn't satisfy you, ask them whether they'd rather have the power of a shinobi."
Then, with eyes glinting, Rokuro quoted coldly:
"Dignity exists only at the edge of a blade. Truth lies only within the range of a cannon."
Itachi froze. Every hair on his body stood on end.
"Without strength," Rokuro continued, "you can't even protect your own life, let alone your dignity — or the people you love. Once you understand that, you won't need to ask whether power matters."
His Sharingan flared open — two tomoe gleaming blood-red in the lamplight. He pointed at his eyes.
"As for your so-called 'cursed eyes,' let me tell you the truth — the curse was never real. Our ancestors just never found the right way to awaken them. They relied on old legends, crude and desperate methods, because that's all they knew."
"Times change. Ninjutsu evolves. If the heavens have given the Uchiha this power, then it's ours to study, to master, and to perfect — not to reject out of fear. To do so only proves ignorance… and cowardice."
He turned away, his tone dropping to a quiet finality.
"You're a gifted man, Uchiha Itachi. But your problem is that you're too sentimental. Instead of sitting around brooding over philosophy, you should go outside — meet the genin of the village, talk to the civilians beyond the walls. See the world for what it really is."
"When you've seen enough, when you've truly understood how this world works… you'll find your own meaning. And if you still can't—"
Rokuro glanced back, his eyes cold.
"—then I'll make you understand."
With that, he walked away, leaving Itachi rooted to the spot.
For a long time, the boy said nothing.
All his life, Shisui's pacifism had filled his mind like gospel, and he had expected Rokuro to do the same — to counter with lofty words or idealistic persuasion.
But all he received was one brutal truth:
"Dignity exists only at the edge of a blade. Truth lies only within the range of a cannon."
And a simple instruction — see the world for yourself.
It was nothing like what he'd expected.
"…Maybe," Itachi murmured, "that's not such bad advice after all."
While Itachi wrestled with his thoughts, Uchiha Fugaku was already submitting the deployment roster for the coming war.
When Hiruzen Sarutobi saw the list, his face turned as pale as ash.
Beside him, Danzo Shimura scanned the names, his expression darkening — before twisting into a thin, venomous smile.
"Well, well," he sneered. "Didn't I warn you the Uchiha were getting too ambitious? But you just couldn't bring yourself to act. Now look at this — two hundred Uchiha jonin, all with Three Tomoe Sharingan. That's one-fifth of Konoha's total combat strength! And that's not counting the ones they're hiding. Still think you can keep the peace, Hiruzen?"
"Danzo," Hiruzen said, his voice tight with smoke and anger, "I didn't summon you here to gloat."
He drew a long drag from his pipe and exhaled sharply, filling the office with thick haze. Danzo coughed, eyes reddening from the fumes.
"Then listen to me, old friend," Danzo rasped. "If you still hesitate now, the Uchiha will become unstoppable. They're already consolidating power. This war against the Land of Lightning is the perfect chance — weaken them while you still can. Miss this, and next time… Konoha itself might be the one paying the price."
Hiruzen said nothing for a long while.
Finally, he pressed the roster flat on the desk — then covered it with his hand.
"…Do what needs to be done."
END OF CHAPTER
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