A Terminal Trust Forged in Time: Itachi’s Final Gift and Naruto’s Vow Amid a Dying Dream

The forest trembled with a quiet intensity, leaves rustling as if whispering secrets. Naruto faced Itachi, the air between them thick with unspoken truths. Itachi's Sharingan dimmed slightly, his pale face softening as he regarded Naruto—not as a threat, but as a confidant. "When you meet a true friend, even a thousand cups of wine feel too few," Itachi said, his voice low, almost wistful. "We've reached that point, haven't we? There's no need to hide anymore."

Naruto's breath caught. Itachi's guard was down, a rare crack in his stoic armor. "Yeah," he replied, nodding. "No more masks."

Itachi's lips twitched, a shadow of a smile. "I'm dying, Naruto. A terminal illness—months, maybe days left. Medicine keeps me standing, but it's a borrowed thread." He paused, eyes distant. "Better to use it than let it snap in vain."

Shock rippled through Naruto, his Sage Mode-enhanced senses picking up the faint tremor in Itachi's frame, the shallow rasp of his breath. In his past life, he'd pieced together Itachi's story from fragments—Obito's taunts, Kakashi's regrets—but this? This was new, a raw wound he hadn't seen. "You're… dying?" His voice faltered, realization sinking in. "That's why you're so set on Sasuke killing you. It's not just the plan—it's your time running out."

Itachi nodded, a faint cough escaping him. "Death was always coming. This way, it means something." His gaze hardened, resolute despite the frailty beneath.

Naruto's fists clenched, frustration and sorrow warring within him. Itachi's choice made sense now—too much sense. But he couldn't let it end there. "You're not curious how I know all this?" he asked, stepping closer. "I'll tell you straight—I'm from the future. I traveled back to fix everything."

Itachi's eyes widened, the Mangekyō flaring briefly before settling into a wary stare. "The future?" His tone was skeptical, but his posture shifted, alert. "That's… impossible."

"Is it?" Naruto pressed, voice steady. "You're planning to pull me into your genjutsu later, right? Slip a crow with Shisui's eye down my throat, use the illusion to make me forget it's there. All so, if Sasuke turns on Konoha, that crow triggers Kotoamatsukami—the strongest genjutsu—to force him to protect the village. Am I wrong?"

Itachi staggered, a rare crack in his composure. His hand twitched toward his cloak, as if to summon that very crow. "How…" His voice was a whisper, eyes darting over Naruto as if searching for a lie. "How do you know my deepest contingency?"

Naruto held his ground, unflinching. "Because I've lived it. I've seen what happens if you go through with this."

Itachi's mind raced. Genjutsu? No—Shisui was gone, and no one rivaled his own mastery. This wasn't an illusion. Reality, then—a truth too wild to dismiss. "You're serious," he said, voice tight. "From the future… Tell me, then. What becomes of Sasuke?"

Naruto's face softened, a grin breaking through the tension. "He comes back to Konoha. We're brothers—always. I become Hokage, he's my right hand. He marries Sakura, has a daughter—Sarada. She's adorable, takes after him. Her and my son Boruto? They're a handful, but they'd make you proud." He paused, eyes glinting with warmth. "If you were there…"

Itachi's breath hitched, a fragile smile tugging at his lips. "Sarada…" He tested the name, a flicker of joy lighting his weary features. But it faded as quickly as it came, shadowed by resignation. "A happy ending."

Naruto's grin faltered. "It could be yours too, Itachi. Isn't there a cure? Something—anything?"

Itachi shook his head, a faint cough rattling his chest. "No. It's too late for me." His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of regret.

Naruto's heart sank, but he pressed forward, a new idea sparking. "Then let me ask you something." He met Itachi's gaze, resolute. "That crow with Shisui's eye—engrave Kotoamatsukami into it, but set it for me to use. Not on Sasuke—someone else. I need that power."

Itachi frowned, suspicion sharpening his stare. "To control Sasuke?"

"No!" Naruto's voice rose, fierce. "I swear, Sasuke's my brother—I'd never use jutsu on him. He came back on his own in my time, because of me, not tricks. This is for something bigger. Trust me, Itachi."

Itachi's eyes softened, Naruto's words striking a chord. "Sasuke's my brother…" It echoed his own heart, a mirror of his love. He studied Naruto—his sincerity, his fire—and saw a protector worthy of Sasuke's future. "You've surprised me too many times today," he said, voice low. "Traveling through time… I believe you. And I believe in Sasuke's foolish heart."

With a flick of his wrist, Itachi summoned the crow, its single Sharingan eye glinting in the dim light. He raised his Mangekyō, crimson spirals locking onto the bird's gaze. Chakra pulsed, thick and heavy, as he wove the genjutsu. Ten seconds stretched into eternity—his body trembled, blood trickling from his eyes, his strength waning. Finally, he exhaled, swaying, and closed his lids. "It's done."

He tossed a summoning scroll to Naruto, voice strained. "The eye's power is yours—one use only. How you wield it… that's your burden." The crow fluttered to Naruto's shoulder, a silent pact sealed.

Naruto caught the scroll, gratitude swelling in his chest. "Thank you, Itachi." He hesitated, then asked, "That future I told you—is it enough?"

Itachi opened his bloodshot eyes, a faint smile returning. "If it's true… yes." He turned, cloak billowing as he stepped into the shadows. "Live well, Naruto. For him." His form faded, swallowed by the forest.

Naruto stood still, the crow's weight a quiet reminder. Itachi's fate gnawed at him—unchanging, inevitable. Some tragedies, it seemed, defied even time's grasp. He sealed the crow into the scroll, tucking it away, and glanced toward Jiraiya's distant chakra. "I won't waste this," he vowed, leaping into the trees.

Behind him, Itachi walked alone, blood streaking his face like tears. His smile lingered, fragile but real. Sarada… The name danced in his mind, a vision of Sasuke as a father—happy, whole. He pictured a little girl, dark hair and bright eyes, tugging at her uncle's sleeve, begging for shuriken lessons. Or tapping her forehead when he was too busy, a gesture he'd once given Sasuke. Joy bloomed in his chest, sharp and fleeting. I'd have liked to see that, he thought, steps faltering as the forest closed around him.

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