The next morning, Akira woke early once again.
The golden light of dawn filtered through the curtains, soft and calm.
He ate his breakfast in silence — rice, miso soup, and half a boiled egg — then sat near the window, watching the leaves sway outside.
But his mind wasn't at peace.
"Now that we know that Danzo's Death can delay the massacre them we have to make his death perfect while conserving dust escape."
He folded his arms and started planning for the future.
"There are two main problems.
First — what object do I use to plant the seal on?
Second — who delivers it?
Because me meeting Danzo directly…"
He chuckled darkly.
"...is about as likely as Danzo becoming the Fifth Hokage."
Homura's death had been easy —
Akira had succeeded because of four things — no chakra inspection, perfect chakra suppression box, an unsuspecting target, and sheer luck.
"It was like Naruto defeating Kiba Inuzuka using his fart."
Pure absurdity.
Danzo was another beast entirely: cautious, paranoid, and constantly protected.
He leaned back, thinking harder.
"Maybe... I could send something through Itachi or kakashi."
It made sense.
Both worked under Danzo's influence within the ANBU; an internal report would reach him easily.
Then he frowned.
"No. They won't do anything without reason — and certainly not for me."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
His memories from the previous simulations flashed — the deaths, the betrayals, the helplessness.
He opened his eyes, calm but cold.
"Then I'll give them a reason."
---
That evening, Akira sat by his desk, pen scratching against paper.
His handwriting was neat — practiced, precise.
The letter carried no name, no address, no emotion.
Once sealed, he slipped it into a plain envelope marked only: To Uchiha Itachi.
Before nightfall, he walked through the quiet streets until he reached a small post office.
The clerk — a tired, middle-aged man — was closing up shop when Akira stepped in.
"Uncle, I have an urgent letter. Please make sure it's delivered quickly," Akira said, placing the envelope and a 500-yen coin on the counter.
The man blinked. "Five hundred? The fee's only hundred."
"Consider it a service tip," Akira smiled.
The man's expression softened instantly. "Alright, kid. I'll handle it personally."
"Thank you."
Akira bowed lightly and walked away.
Later that night, the postal worker kept his word.
He personally ensured the delivery went through without any problem.
Anonymous senders weren't unusual — Konoha often used blind posts for confidential exchanges, especially for reports between shinobi.
All scent markers and chakra traces were removed during handling for secrecy.
The letter reached its destination without a single flaw.
---
Uchiha Itachi's POV
Itachi came home late that night, exhausted after another mission.
When he opened the door, he found Sasuke glaring at him — cheeks puffed like a small pufferfish.
"You lied again!" Sasuke said, pouting. "You said you'd train with me today!"
Itachi sighed softly. His body ached, but his hand rose gently, two fingers tapping Sasuke's forehead.
"I'll train with you next time. Promise."
Sasuke groaned. He'd heard that line too many times before. But in the end, he just turned away, muttering,
"Fine… but don't break it again."
Itachi smiled faintly. "I won't."
After dinner — alone, as usual — he prepared to head to his room when his mother called from the living room.
"Itachi, a letter came for you. It's anonymous."
He paused, surprised, then took it from her hand.
"Thank you, Mother."
He went into his room, shut the door, and sat down.
Breaking the seal, he unfolded the letter — and as his eyes moved over the words, his calm expression darkened.
The air grew heavy.
A faint wave of killing intent radiated from him as his Mangekyō Sharingan flickered to life.
""
To Uchiha Itachi,
I have been observing the quiet storms within Konoha for some time now.
The shifting loyalties, the silent blades, the endless cycle of sacrifice and suspicion — it all fascinates me.
You, in particular, interest me.
A man bound by two oaths — one to his blood, and one to his village — yet unable to belong entirely to either.
Such duality is… beautiful in its tragedy.
Allow me to be direct.
I possess a hereditary technique known as Spacial Annihilation.
It bears resemblance to the Flying Thunder God, though rather than crossing space, I erase it.
Every mark I leave becomes a hollow — a moment removed from existence itself.
Two such marks now rest upon your family — your mother, Mikoto, and your brother, Sasuke.
Do not be alarmed. For now, they are only asleep, like the hands of a clock before it chimes.
I do not expect you to believe this.
So, in three days, I shall provide a small demonstration.
Consider this not a threat, but an introduction.
— Chronarch.
"
Itachi's expression didn't change — not outwardly.
But the air around him grew colder, sharper. His Mangekyō burned.
He read it again.
The tone was confident — not desperate or bluffing.
Whoever this "Chronarch" was, they knew exactly what buttons to press.
"A bloodline that erases space… impossible," he murmured. "But… still."
He thought for a moment.
If the letter was true, the sender would demonstrate it soon — probably through an example.
If false, it was simply a taunt meant to draw him out.
Either way, he had to verify.
---
He stepped out quietly.
Mikoto was in the living room, arranging the dishes.
He activated his Mangekyō Sharingan — the faint hum of chakra perception filling his eyes — scanning her carefully.
Nothing.
No mark. No distortion.
He turned to Sasuke's room next.
The boy was fast asleep, clutching his pillow and mumbling about "training harder."
Itachi watched him in silence for a long time — then sighed.
"No foreign chakra either… but I can't ignore it."
He knew he had to take it seriously.
The problem was, tracking the sender was nearly impossible.
The letter came through Konoha's postal system — which stripped every scent and chakra trace during processing.
Inuzuka's dogs, Aburame's insects, even sensory-type shinobi would find nothing.
It was a perfect dead end.
That level of anonymity… was itself unsettling.
Itachi's eyes narrowed.
"So you want to play games with me, Mr. Chronarch?"
He slowly burned the letter to ash, watching the paper curl and blacken between his fingers.
Then he whispered,
"Let's see how long you can stay hidden."
The flames died, and silence returned.
But in the dim flicker of the candlelight, the reflection in Itachi's eyes was anything but calm.
---