Chương 50: Breaking the Illusion

"Shisui..." Itachi stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the young man before him. The name fell from his lips in a murmur.

"What's wrong with you?" Shisui looked back at him, half amused.

"..."

"Come in." Shisui stepped aside and waved him through. …… Inside, Shisui pulled two bottles from the fridge and tossed one to Itachi, who had sunk into the couch without a word. Shisui leaned against the fridge, cracked his open, and took a sip.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking Sasuke's team out today? The fresh graduates?" He grinned.

"What are you doing at my place?" Itachi sat with the bottle in his hands, turning it slowly between his fingers. He didn't look up. Shisui tilted his head.

"..."

"Don't tell me Sasuke and the others already pissed you off."

"..." Something entered Itachi's peripheral vision. He raised his head and found Shisui's face inches from his own—bent at the waist, leaning in, studying him with open curiosity.

"What are you doing?" Itachi leaned back instinctively, putting space between them. Shisui looked him over from one angle, then the other. Finally straightened up.

"..."

"Hah." He sighed, eyeing Itachi with something between amusement and resignation. Arms folded, he sat on the edge of the table across from Itachi and crossed his legs.

"Out with it. What's going on?" Another sip.

"My time is precious, you know. I barely get a day off—I was planning to sleep in." Itachi had a hundred things he wanted to say to the person sitting in front of him. But each one died before it reached his lips. This Shisui—the Shisui of this world—had lived an entirely different life. Would his heart still be the same?

"Shisui... do you know someone named Shin Takami?" That was what came out.

"..." Shisui stared at him, completely deadpan. Then pressed a hand to his forehead.

"If you really have nothing to say, stop wasting my time. I get hounded by my subordinates in ROOT all day—I don't need you doing it at home." He stood, walked to the front door, and swung it open. A clear invitation to leave. But Itachi's expression shifted.

"ROOT? You're still in ROOT?!"

"... Itachi, I'm really tired." Shisui sighed.

"Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to run an entire division?" Itachi's face went through three expressions in the space of a breath. He rose from the couch and crossed the room in two strides, stopping directly in front of Shisui.

"Shisui!"

"Huh?" Shisui blinked, thrown. The black of Itachi's irises compressed—then split into three spinning tomoe, crimson flooding both eyes.

"Itachi?" Shisui's brow twitched. The light around them dropped as though someone had drawn a curtain across the room. From somewhere above, black feathers began drifting down like ash.

"This is a simple genjutsu," Itachi said. Shisui stood still. His frown deepened, but he said nothing—just watched, waiting.

"Shisui, there's something I need to tell you." Can this even block Father from listening...? Without the Mangekyō, probably not.

"What's so important you need to say it like this?" Shisui's voice was even. Unhurried.

"Worried about surveillance? Not many people in this village would dare monitor me."

"... Do you know about Kotoamatsukami?" Shisui's eyebrow rose a fraction.

"No."

"..."

"Shisui... if you had a power that could change another person's will—bend it however you chose—what would you do?"

"..." Something shifted behind Shisui's eyes. A ripple beneath still water.

"Why are you asking me this?"

"... Curious. If a power like that actually existed... where should it be used?"

"If a power like that actually existed—" Shisui's voice dropped a register.

"It should never be used at all." Itachi went still.

"A power that strong—strong enough to terrify anyone who learned of it." Shisui spoke calmly, as though laying out a simple truth.

"And things that terrify people are never allowed to exist for long. Everyone would fear you. Everyone would pull away."

"..."

"Something that shouldn't exist, but does—better to make sure it never sees the light of day." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"..." Shisui's face was perfectly composed. Those dark, deep-set eyes gave away nothing. Overhead, the ugly shriek of a crow. Black feathers settled on both their shoulders and vanished.

"Itachi..." Shisui began, his tone light. Almost idle.

"Don't you think you've been acting strange?"

"..."

"Strange behavior. Strange questions. From the moment you walked through that door." He smiled. But it didn't reach his eyes. Beneath those fine, almost delicate features, something sharp and cold surfaced—a blade drawn an inch from its sheath.

"I'm starting to wonder if you're even really you."

"Kree—!" A harsh, grating cry. A black crow descended and landed on Itachi's shoulder, talons gripping the fabric. Its left eye was wrong. Where a bird's eye should have been, there blazed a crimson design—four points radiating outward like the arms of a pinwheel. The color drained from Shisui's face.

"So you do have the Mangekyō." Itachi watched his reaction closely. Only someone who already possessed that eye would recognize the design on sight. Shisui's expression hardened. He took two measured steps back, his weight shifting, a wariness entering his posture that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Who are you?" Low. Flat.

"... Itachi Uchiha." A cold half-smile. Shisui's own eyes flooded crimson—three tomoe in each iris, spinning, locked on. Itachi held the gaze without flinching.

"..." The certainty in Shisui's face began to fracture. His brows drew tight.

"You really are Itachi?"

"The Sharingan confirms everything. Whether I'm a disguise—or the real thing." Shisui's stance eased. Barely.

"What's the deal with that eye?" He was still frowning at the crow on Itachi's shoulder.

"Shisui. Use your Mangekyō—pull me into your genjutsu world. Now."

"..." Shisui said nothing. His crimson gaze bored into Itachi.

"Hurry. I don't think we have much time." If Father realizes what I'm trying to do— The words had barely left his lips when the image before him began to warp. The world cracked—hairline fractures splintering across everything, splitting the air, the walls, the space between them.

"Shisui!"

"Shisui?!"" Shisui!" Itachi shouted, but his voice cut out. He reached for Shisui, arm outstretched—but the distance between them yawned wider and wider, as though a world had opened in the gap. Everything shattered. Everything went to nothing.

"Itachi." Someone calling his name. Sensation returned first as a prickling at his fingertips, then as a white-hot lance through both eyes. He opened them slowly, wincing. This wasn't the room. This wasn't the house. Mikoto wasn't here. A vast, borderless expanse stretched in every direction—zones of light bleeding into zones of shadow, the boundary between them indistinct. Luminous particles drifted upward through the air like slow-burning embers, casting a haze through which a single figure stood waiting.

Above it all, the sky was black. And hanging in that blackness—a blood-red moon. The moment his gaze touched the moon, the pain in his eyes surged. The same pain from before—sudden, searing, deepening with every heartbeat. As though something were being branded into his soul. Itachi dropped to his knees. Both hands pressed against his eyes, teeth clenched. The figure approached. Shisui. His expression was complicated—something Itachi couldn't read.

He crouched in front of Itachi and reached out, passing his fingertips lightly over Itachi's closed eyelids. The pain vanished. Instantly. Like a candle flame pinched between two fingers. Itachi exhaled. Steadied himself. Rose to his feet.

"Thank you," he said quietly. Shisui studied him. That unreadable look remained.

"Do you know why your eyes hurt like that?"

"... Aftereffects of using the Mangekyō?" Itachi looked down at his own hands, uncertain. His body felt different now. Completely different. He was sure—this was no longer Father's illusion.

"..." Shisui sighed, so softly it was barely audible. He looked away.

"Is that so... So you really are Itachi." Itachi raised his head again.

"I'm... not from the same world as you." He'd considered telling Shisui the truth— you might only be a person inside a genjutsu —but that felt too cruel. He chose different words.

"I'm an Itachi Uchiha from another world. Being here was... an accident."

"I see." Shisui's expression smoothed into something calmer.

"How do you have Kotoamatsukami?"

"... The you from my world entrusted it to me." Something ached behind Itachi's eyes—not the physical kind.

"Along with something even more important than that."

"..." Entrusted... like that. Shisui's eyelids lowered. Heavy. But looking at Itachi—who didn't seem to realize what that word truly cost—he found he couldn't say it.

"Shisui..." Itachi spoke again.

"..."

"There's... a lot I want to say to you." A small, bitter smile found his face. His expression grew complicated.

"This world is truly wonderful. But there are still things I have to do."

"..."

"So I—" He raised one hand, halting. The words wouldn't come. In his eyes, the three spinning tomoe began to shift. They elongated, curved, merged—forming three slender crescent moons joined at their points. An intricate, almost beautiful design.

"Itachi." Shisui cut him off. Itachi stared.

"I don't know what it is you need to do. And maybe... what you've decided isn't necessarily right."

"..."

"If, someday, you regret—""No." Itachi shook his head. His gaze hardened.

"I won't regret it."

"..." Shisui laughed. A sudden, startled sound—soft and genuine. His fine-boned features lifted into something warm and wounded at once, his eyes bright with emotions too tangled to name.

"Then— Sayounara." Night had settled over Konoha, and the village grew warmer for it—lanterns glowing, laughter drifting, the sounds of a place that felt utterly safe.

"Wow~ So this is the Hidden Leaf! Makes you wanna live here, doesn't it?" High on a rooftop, two figures stood overlooking the lights below.

"I bet it's super lively. I bet there are tons of people who'd play with me." The voice was airy, almost childlike in its enthusiasm.

"With your face, the Leaf shinobi would arrest you on sight." A low voice—flat, blunt, entirely unamused.

"Don't say that! Maybe they'd be friendly." A beat.

"What do you think, Snake-san? You used to live here, right? What are the people like? Are they nice?" The lighter voice chattered on without waiting for answers.

"Fools." The tall figure beside him spoke at last. His voice was cold, rasping—the voice of someone who rarely used it. But woven through the words was something like a smile, which only made them more unsettling.

"The lot of them." A pause.

"They'd probably get along with you quite well." Moonlight caught his skin—white as bleached paper. His features walked a strange line between sharp and soft, masculine and androgynous, and his eyes... His eyes had vertical slits for pupils.

"Snake-san, are you calling me stupid?" The lighter voice piped up again. Orochimaru let out a laugh that could have meant anything. His silhouette dropped from the rooftop, weightless as falling silk.

"Snake-san, where are you going?"

"Wait up~" Zetsu followed the trail through the sleeping village until Orochimaru stopped before a residential house.

"Did you used to live here?" White Zetsu asked, noticing they'd halted at the front door. Then he spotted the nameplate mounted on the wall. Two characters: Takami.

"Oh! So your name is Takami, Snake-san." White Zetsu snickered.

"Someone even stupider than you used to live here." Orochimaru's rasp carried that permanent undertone of amusement.

"What happened to them?"

"Dead."

"Oh—so they were your friend! Snake-san, I had no idea you were the sentimental type." White Zetsu sounded genuinely surprised.

"I always figured you were totally cold-blooded." Orochimaru's smile thinned.

"Sentimental?" A sound like a laugh that had forgotten how.

"The dead hold no value. If death has any meaning at all, it only exists in the moment it can be used." His eyes gleamed in the dark.

"Rather than this sort of pointless nostalgia, I'm far more interested in meeting Itachi Uchiha."

"Oh, Itachi? He said we'll have to wait one more day."

"Ahh..." A long, sibilant sigh.

"More waiting."

"Itachi!"

"Itachi?"

"Itachi." His eyes opened again. His house. His home. Mikoto crouched beside him, her face tight with worry. He looked down at his hands. Clenched them. The real world...

"Itachi, are you all right?" Her voice strained.

"..." Outside, the sky had gone fully dark. He had no idea how much time had passed.

"Where's Father?" Fugaku was nowhere in sight.

"He went to his room to rest. Are you sure you're okay?"

"..." Resting...?

"I'm fine, Mom." He smiled. Rose slowly to his feet.

"You should get some rest too."

"... Okay. You too."

"Mm." Itachi glanced toward his father's room. Light still leaked from beneath the door. Wakahirume...