"Excuse me."
The moment Jin stepped into the Uchiha household, he felt it.
The air was heavy.
Uchiha Mikoto was in the kitchen preparing dinner, movements steady but quiet. In the living room, Fugaku and Shisui sat facing one another, both wearing unusually grave expressions.
But what surprised Jin most—
The source of that tension wasn't some political crisis.
It was Uchiha Itachi, standing stiffly to the side, unease written across his young face.
"What happened?" Jin asked.
Fugaku remained silent.
Shisui finally lifted a document and handed it over.
"Itachi's medical report came back," he said, urgency leaking through his calm tone. "It's… not good."
Jin took the report and skimmed past the data columns, jumping straight to the final assessment.
Abnormal physical development. Signs of overexertion and premature potential depletion. Immediate rest required. Cease excessive training. Increase nutritional intake.
Chakra irregularities detected. Signs of life-force consumption. Suspected bloodline illness.
Jin lowered the paper.
His expression grew complicated.
Shisui had awakened the Mangekyō at thirteen.
Obito too.
Their burdens had been no lighter than Itachi's.
Yet only Itachi had deteriorated into something that resembled chronic illness—so severe that even Zetsu once described him as terminal.
This wasn't coincidence.
So it started here.
"What did the doctor say?" Jin asked.
Fugaku exhaled slowly.
"They said… Itachi is no longer suited to be a shinobi."
Silence.
"If he continues refining chakra without resolving the underlying issue…" Fugaku's voice dropped, "he may not live past twenty."
The word hung there.
Twenty.
A death sentence disguised as medical caution.
"Bloodline illness is notoriously difficult," Fugaku continued. "With the current state of medical ninjutsu… there is no cure."
"The safest course is for Itachi to stop extracting chakra entirely. To give up being a ninja."
The words were heavy.
For Fugaku, Itachi wasn't just a son.
He was pride.
Legacy.
Future.
Jin set the report down.
"And what do you think?" he asked calmly.
Fugaku didn't answer.
Because he didn't have one.
Jin turned to Itachi instead.
"What about you?"
"Can you give up becoming a shinobi?"
Itachi lowered his head.
He had trained relentlessly—pushing himself past limits, burning potential for speed.
To stop now?
It would mean admitting all that effort was… wasted.
But then—
His gaze drifted to the kitchen.
To his mother.
And to the life quietly growing within her.
For the first time—
Itachi hesitated.
Once, he would have chosen the path of a ninja even if it meant dying at twenty.
Now—
He wanted to see that unborn child grow up.
Maybe…
He was beginning to understand what life meant.
"I will not give up," Fugaku said suddenly.
His tone hardened.
"Itachi will stop refining chakra immediately. But I will not abandon the possibility of his future as a shinobi."
"There must be a solution."
His eyes burned with resolve.
"The Legendary Sannin Tsunade may have left the village… but if we find her, perhaps she can cure him."
At the mention of Tsunade—the greatest medical-nin of her generation—hope flickered faintly in the room.
But Jin shook his head.
"If you truly don't want to give up," he said calmly, "you'd be better off finding Orochimaru."
The room froze.
"…What?"
Fugaku, Shisui, and Itachi all looked at him.
Jin chose his words carefully.
"In pure medical ninjutsu, Orochimaru isn't Tsunade's equal."
"But when it comes to rare conditions… forbidden cases… unconventional methods?"
"He's far more likely to have answers."
Fugaku narrowed his eyes.
"Explain."
Jin leaned back slightly.
"Orochimaru's research covers far more than healing. He studies the body itself—its limits, its structure, its replacement."
Replacement.
The word carried weight.
"If Itachi's illness stems from the body's inability to sustain its chakra nature," Jin continued, "then altering the body itself may be the only guaranteed solution."
There it was.
A truth too blunt to fully speak.
Orochimaru's Living Corpse Reincarnation.
A body swap.
Extreme.
But absolute.
Jin continued more mildly, "At the very least, Orochimaru would gladly conduct a comprehensive examination."
"Especially… if the patient is an Uchiha."
That part didn't need elaboration.
Fugaku's expression darkened.
He understood.
An Uchiha child under Orochimaru's scalpel.
The "price" might not be monetary.
But he still spoke firmly:
"Whatever the cost is… if I can pay it, I will."
He turned to Jin.
"I am not close with Orochimaru."
"Can you arrange a meeting?"
Jin smiled faintly.
"No need to panic."
"Orochimaru's occupied right now."
He stood.
"In a few days… I'll take Itachi to see him myself."
Fugaku exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.
He bowed his head deeply.
"I'm counting on you."
Jin glanced at Itachi.
A fragile prodigy.
A genius whose body couldn't keep up with his spirit.
Bloodline illness.
Mangekyō burden.
Fate pressing down far too early.
If left unchecked—
This path would still end in tragedy.
But perhaps—
This time—
It wouldn't have to.
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