chapter:9Practically quirkless

The silence in the room seemed to echo. Itachi stood by the window, gazing out at the moonlit sky, a soft breeze brushing through the curtains. His small hands clenched into fists by his sides as he thought back to his father's harsh words, the weight of them settling like a stone in his chest.

"Practically quirkless..." The words repeated in his mind, their sharpness cutting deeper than any blade.

He was just a child in this new world, but he was no stranger to pain. The scars of his past life still lingered, haunting him in ways he couldn't yet explain. Here, in this life, he had been given a new beginning, but those who should have believed in him—the ones meant to love him unconditionally—had already cast doubt on his future.

Why does power always have to define worth? he wondered. In my previous life, it was the same. Power, strength, control... It always led to suffering.

Itachi's eyes, now heavy with the weight of old and new sorrows, filled with a single tear. It rolled down his cheek silently, leaving a cool trail against his skin. He quickly wiped it away, annoyed at the vulnerability it betrayed. He wasn't just mourning his father's words—he was mourning the expectations this world seemed to place on him, even as a child.

In this world, too, strength is everything. And yet… what does it really mean to be strong?

He glanced down at his small hands. They seemed so fragile, so powerless. But inside him, he knew there was more—there was resolve. In his old life, he had fought to protect what he loved, sacrificing everything. Could he find a way to do that again, even here, even now?

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

"Itachi?" Yana's voice came through gently, hesitating at the threshold. Without waiting for his response, she entered slowly, her face lined with concern. She saw him by the window, his back to her, and immediately sensed the gravity of the moment.

Yana moved closer, sitting down on the bed beside him, her presence tender and quiet. She reached out and touched his small hand, which lay limply by his side. "Itachi... I'm so sorry you heard all of that." Her voice trembled slightly. "Your father... he doesn't understand."

Itachi remained silent, his gaze still focused on the night sky, but Yana noticed his other hand gripping the windowsill tightly. She continued, her heart heavy. "You're so young, but you already carry so much. You don't have to prove yourself to anyone, least of all your father. You're special, Itachi. Not because of your quirk, but because of who you are."

He turned to her slowly, his dark eyes meeting hers, and Yana's breath caught when she saw the depth of sadness in them. He looked at her with a wisdom that didn't belong to a child, and yet he still seemed so lost.

"I don't want to disappoint you," Itachi whispered, his voice barely audible, but it carried the weight of his turmoil.

Yana felt her chest tighten, tears welling in her eyes. She gathered him into her arms, holding him tightly, as if to shield him from the harshness of the world outside. "You could never disappoint me, Itachi. Never."

As she held him close, Itachi closed his eyes, allowing himself this brief moment of comfort. The warmth of his mother's embrace reminded him that, despite the pain, there was still love in this world. And perhaps, that was enough.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes soft but concerned, and spoke quietly, "Itachi… I saw your eyes earlier. The two tomoe… What happened?"

Itachi stilled for a moment. He had been expecting this, but it didn't make the moment any easier. He knew she deserved the truth, but how could he explain something so complex, so deeply rooted in who he was—a child now, yes, but with the soul of a man who had seen and endured far too much?

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at her, his dark eyes, no longer adorned with the tomoe, reflecting both innocence and the wisdom of his previous life. "I... I don't know, Mother. I just felt something inside when I heard Father's words. It... made me feel strange." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "It wasn't like before, but it was there, just for a moment."

Yana's brows furrowed slightly, her gaze searching his face for more. She wanted to press, to understand, but she could see the turmoil in him. The weight of the world already rested on his small shoulders, and she didn't want to burden him further. She nodded slowly, as if weighing his words, her heart torn between concern and trust.

"I see," she finally said, her voice gentle. "Perhaps... it's something that will happen as you grow. Your quirk may evolve differently than we expect." She smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Just know, Itachi, whatever it is, I will always be proud of you."

Itachi felt a pang of guilt. He had given her just enough of the truth to satisfy her for now, but deep inside, he knew his Sharingan—his tomoe—was something far more than just a quirk. It was a remnant of the world he came from, a world of blood, sacrifice, and endless battle. Yet, in this moment, he wasn't ready to share that part of himself.

Instead, he gave her a small, reassuring nod, forcing a smile to his lips. "Thank you, Mother."

Yana sighed softly, her expression softening as she placed a gentle hand on his head, smoothing down his dark hair. "You should sleep now, my little one. You've had a long day." Her voice was soothing, the kind that could easily lull a child to sleep.

But Itachi didn't move. His mind was still restless, swirling with thoughts and unresolved emotions. Yana noticed his hesitation and, with a tender smile, gestured for him to lie down. "Come here," she said softly, patting her lap.

Itachi's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected her to offer such comfort—such warmth—but something inside him, something long buried, craved it. Without another word, he shifted closer and gently rested his head on her lap.