36: The Weak

“Hm?” Shin blinked, then smiled. “What’s up with Shisui? Something came up and he can’t make it?”

“…” Itachi looked at Shin—at the casual, unbothered expression on his face—and his gaze steadied. He repeated himself.

“Shisui is dead.”

“…”

“…”

Dead?

Dead…

Shin nodded without thinking. Then he froze. He stared blankly at Itachi, then looked down at his own hands. One of them still held a shuriken.

“You said Shisui is…” Shin raised his head. The words came out hollow.

“Dead,” Itachi said.

“…”

Dead. What did that mean?

Was this a joke?

“Hey…” His voice trembled without permission. A strained smile surfaced on his face. “Itachi-san, don’t joke around like that…”

“…” Itachi watched him in silence.

“It’s not funny at all. I’ll get angry.”

“…”

“…The body is at the Uchiha compound. Do you want to see it?” Itachi’s voice was flat. Empty.

Shin’s body went rigid. Then cold—all the way through.

“How…” he whispered. “How could…”

……

“Interesting. Who taught you that shuriken form?”

…

“You’re Shin Takami?”

…

“Top of the class, huh? Every year’s top student gets talked about.”

……

“Shisui Uchiha.”

…

“What, never heard of me?”

…

“Heh. Once upon a time, I was pretty famous.”

……

“Shisui…”

“Is something going to happen to the Uchiha?”

“Is it aimed at you?”

“You… won’t get hurt, will you?”

“The hell are you going on about? Cursing me now?”

“…”

“Relax. I’m this strong—how could anything happen to me?”

“…It better not.”

“I’m your teacher, remember? You haven’t even learned everything I have to offer.”

“…Then teach me.”

“I will… next time.”

……

What does it feel like—to suddenly hear that someone beside you has died?

Shin Takami, in this life, had believed he would go on living peacefully in the Hidden Leaf forever. No great joys. No great sorrows. He’d stopped meditating in the mornings long ago, letting the child’s mind of this lifetime erode whatever lay beneath.

Playing the part of a kid—he’d grown comfortable with it. Thought it was fine.

But somewhere deep inside, he was still an adult. He wanted the truth. He wanted to know what had happened.

A living, breathing person—how could they just be gone?

“Last night he threw himself into the Naka River,” Itachi said slowly. “The body is still at the Uchiha compound. If you want to see—”

“Threw himself in?”

“Hey—”

“You’re saying Shisui drowned himself?” Shin cut him off. Something between a scoff and a laugh escaped his throat, as if he’d just heard the most absurd joke in existence.

“Shisui of the Body Flicker—drowned himself?”

“A shinobi famous across the world… drowned himself…”

“Do you believe that?”

His tone had turned accusatory. His expression twisted—something beyond his control.

“Isn’t he one of your Uchiha? Don’t you people pride yourselves on being the greatest clan in the Leaf?”

“The greatest clan…” Shin repeated the words. The image of the Uchiha flashed through his mind, and his lip curled.

“The so-called greatest clan—just let one of their own die like this? Threw himself in a river for no reason?”

“…”

“Or was it someone else? No—a person like him, how could he have enemies?”

“Answer me.”

“Answer me, Sasuke’s brother!” The honorifics were gone. Something unhinged flickered behind his eyes.

“And then what?” Itachi said.

And then…

“…” Shin stopped. Stared at him.

“Even if you knew the truth—then what?”

“…”

The truth…

If I knew the truth—then what?

A chill sank through him. His hands clenched. The shuriken in his palm bit through skin. Blood ran down and dripped onto the earth.

“Can you bring Shisui back?” Itachi glanced at the crimson spreading across Shin’s hand. His voice didn’t waver.

“…”

“Or—can you find this ‘mastermind’ you imagine exists?”

“…”

“And even if you found them—what could you do?”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Blood ran steadily from Shin’s palm, staining the wild grass below.

“Shisui of the Body Flicker—known across the entire shinobi world. If he had enemies, what kind of enemies would they be?”

“Could you face them with your shuriken skills that barely reach genin level?”

Itachi reached behind his back, into his tool pouch, and slowly drew out two shuriken. He held them between the fingers of his right hand. Shin watched, eyes dark and still.

Itachi’s arm snapped forward. Both shuriken screamed through the air in tandem.

Cling.

Past the first tree, the two shuriken collided—a sharp, clean ring of metal. One ricocheted off at a near-perfect right angle, arcing behind the tree and embedding itself dead-center in a target on a second trunk.

“This is what Shisui promised to teach you three days ago,” Itachi said, turning back to Shin. “A technique that even genin struggle to master. Can you do it?”

“…”

Shin stared at the shuriken lodged in the distant tree. He said nothing for a long time.

Then, slowly, he raised his bleeding hand—and the blood-slicked shuriken it held.

Whoosh.

His arm whipped forward. The shuriken tore from his fingers, spinning violently. Past the first tree its rotation tightened and the blade’s trajectory bent—a near-right-angle arc through empty air, sailing past two trees before slamming into the trunk beside Itachi’s shuriken.

Itachi’s eyes shifted. That angle—with only one shuriken… Even he would struggle to replicate it. And this boy hadn’t even graduated from the Academy.

Sasuke falls short, in the end…

Though for Sasuke’s growth, that might not be a bad thing.

“A laughable promise,” Shin muttered, head down, fists white-knuckled.

“…”

“Shisui needed a capable partner. If he’d had one—maybe he wouldn’t be dead.”

“…”

“But he didn’t need an Academy student who hasn’t even graduated. You’re too weak. Pitifully so.”

Shin stood there, head bowed, silent. Itachi’s dark eyes bled slowly into crimson—the Sharingan spinning, spinning.

“If you want to know everything… find a way to get stronger.”

The tomoe in his eyes turned. Shin’s chakra network mapped itself clearly in his vision—every pathway, every junction. But in Shin’s eyes, a particular force resisted him. Something he could not peer into.

Shisui’s ocular power…

Then Shin looked up. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Itachi’s, and the raw emotion in them made Itachi’s brow draw tight.

What—?!

A sudden surge. Itachi felt his own eyes pull chakra involuntarily—a flood of it concentrating without his command. Shin went rigid in the same instant, his gaze going vacant. Empty.

What’s happening?!

Pain lanced through Itachi’s eyes. He pressed a hand to his face. Warmth. He pulled his hand back and saw blood on his fingers—streaming from both eyes.

He looked at Shin. The boy stood motionless, eyes blank, staring at nothing.

Tsukuyomi?!

Through his Sharingan, Itachi observed the chaotic turbulence of Shin’s chakra. His own eyes—the field of vision, the chakra expenditure—had shifted drastically. This was the sensation of the Mangekyō.

But why would he be caught in a genjutsu?

The shock was immediate, electric.

Did I cast it on him…?

How is that possible?!

As Itachi struggled to make sense of it, Shin’s right eye suddenly blazed—a four-pointed pinwheel pattern flaring to life for a single heartbeat before vanishing. In the next instant the boy returned to normal, his gaze refocusing, awareness flooding back.

Shin blinked, disoriented. Looked around. His eyes found Itachi and his expression sharpened.