Reborn In The World Of Naruto

Inside Shisui's House,

The dim light of early evening filtered through the windows of Shisui's home, casting a soft, golden glow that danced across the wooden floor. The scent of miso soup wafted through the room, mingling with the rich aroma of grilled fish. The low hum of the bustling village outside contrasted sharply with the heavy silence inside.

Shisui sat at a simple wooden table, his dark eyes thoughtful yet kind, a gentle smile playing at his lips. Across from him sat Itachi, his posture straight, eyes fixed on his plate but lost in thought. The steam from their bowls curled lazily into the air between them, an invisible barrier separating their unspoken words.

"Here, Itachi, try this soup," Shisui urged, his voice warm but insistent, sliding a bowl across the table.

Itachi glanced at the bowl, then back at Shisui. "It's okay," he said softly, shaking his head. "I'm already full."

Shisui's smile didn't waver. "No, I insist."

Understanding the futility of refusing, Itachi relented. He accepted the bowl, taking slow, measured sips. The warmth of the soup seeped into him, but it did little to ease the cold knot forming in his chest. "Thank you for the meal," he murmured when he was done, his voice almost distant. He was feeling guilty for lying.

They moved to the living room, where the air seemed heavier, filled with an unspoken tension that neither could ignore.

Shisui settled into a worn armchair, his eyes serious now, the warmth replaced by a solemn intensity. "Itachi," he began, his voice low, almost hesitant. "There's something I need to ask you."

Itachi sat across from him, hands folded in his lap, eyes locked onto Shisui's. "Go ahead," he replied, his tone calm but attentive. He trusted Shisui—more than anyone else in the world.

Shisui took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the armrest, knuckles whitening. "Why do we protect the village?"

The question hung in the air, unexpected, cutting through the silence like a kunai. Itachi blinked, momentarily thrown. "What?"

"Why," Shisui repeated, his eyes never leaving Itachi's, "do we protect the village?"

Itachi's brows knitted together, confusion giving way to a quiet determination. "To protect the peace," he answered, his voice steady. "To ensure the safety of all the villagers."

Shisui leaned forward, his eyes searching Itachi's. "No matter the cost?"

"Yes," Itachi affirmed without hesitation.

"Even if it means losing our own lives in the process?" Shisui's voice was softer now, almost a whisper.

"Yes." Itachi's reply came quicker, automatic.

Shisui's gaze intensified. "Even at the cost of our loved ones?"

The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thickening. Itachi opened his mouth to respond, the word on the tip of his tongue—Yes—but it caught in his throat. His eyes widened, realization crashing over him like a wave. The silence stretched, oppressive, as he lowered his head, lost in thought.

Shisui's voice broke the stillness, soft but resolute. "Itachi, a home without anyone in it is nothing but an empty house."

Itachi's body shivered, the words striking a chord deep within him. He lifted his head, his eyes searching Shisui's. "What… are you trying to say?"

Shisui met his gaze, unflinching. "Itachi, have you ever questioned whether the higher-ups of Konoha truly want what's best for the village?"

Itachi's eyes darkened. "Of course. Hokage-sama and the elders have always acted in the village's best interest." His voice was firm.

Shisui's sigh was heavy, burdened with a truth too painful to bear. "Itachi, have you ever heard the story of Sakumo Hatake?"

Itachi frowned. "Sakumo Hatake… Kakashi-senpai's father?"

"Yes."

"What about him?"

Shisui's gaze grew distant, as if peering into a past he wished he could change. "Sakumo was a hero, a man who would lay down his life for the village. He led Konoha to victory in the Second Great Shinobi War, earning the title of White Fang. He was revered, respected… even considered a candidate for the Fourth Hokage, backed by the Daimyo himself."

Itachi listened intently, the weight of Shisui's words pressing down on him.

"But everything changed," Shisui continued, his voice low. "During a mission, he faced a choice: complete the mission at the cost of his comrades' lives… or save them and fail. He chose to save them."

Itachi's eyes narrowed. "That was honorable."

"Not to everyone," Shisui said bitterly.

"Upon returning to the village, Sakumo was heavily criticized and ostracized by both the villagers and his fellow shinobi. Rumors spread that Sakumo was a dishonorable ninja who had betrayed the village's interests. His once-great reputation was tarnished, and he was labeled a failure and disgrace."

"The relentless gossip and scorn deeply affected Sakumo's mental health. Even those he had saved turned against him, intensifying his sense of guilt and shame. Unable to cope with the loss of his honor and the harsh treatment he received, Sakumo ultimately took his..."

Itachi's breath caught. "He… took his own life."

Shisui nodded, his eyes hard. "Do you know who started those rumors?"

Itachi's heart pounded in his chest. "Who?"

"Danzo. Along with the other elders—Koharu and Homura. They fanned the flames, turning the village against him."

The room felt colder. Itachi's world, once solid and certain, cracked at the edges. "What about Hokage-sama?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Did he… know?"

Shisui's gaze was unwavering. "Do you really think Danzo could have done it without his support?"

CRACK

Something inside Itachi shattered. The loyalty, the trust, the blind faith he had held in the village's leaders—it all crumbled into dust. He stared at Shisui, his eyes wide, uncomprehending. "How… how do you know this?"

Shisui's voice was soft but resolute. "Ryuuji told me."

Itachi's eyes widened further. "Ryuuji?"

"I was just as shocked," Shisui admitted. "He said he learned it from our grandfather. I looked into it myself. It's true, Itachi. All of it."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The weight of betrayal, of truth, pressed down on them both.

Shisui's voice broke through the stillness, a solemn whisper. "Itachi… we've been serving the wrong people."

The room, once warm with the scent of food and the glow of fading sunlight, now felt like a tomb—a place where old loyalties lay buried beneath the heavy weight of unspoken truths.

***

A/N: Thank you for the messages guys. It truly means a lot in these trying times. For those of you wondering, the old man in the cover is Uchiha Jima.