Chapter 20

The jonin dropped to his knees without a second thought, his voice trembling with fear. There was no pride, no resistance—just survival instinct. He had experienced firsthand the vast difference in strength.

That fearsome figure, that untraceable genjutsu—it had broken him completely.

Itachi's blade stopped mid-swing.

He had been calculating for a counterattack or a desperate escape—not for the man to crumble in surrender. The abrupt plea disrupted his rhythm, and the blade sliced nothing but air.

"Tch."

With a faint sigh of frustration, Itachi sheathed his weapon.

"Go. Don't come back. This isn't a place for someone like you to scheme."

Itachi's voice was calm, but carried quiet authority.

He could tell the man was serious. His chakra, which had surged moments earlier, was now completely subdued. The will to fight had drained from his body.

This guy's not incompetent, Itachi thought. To survive this long, he must be skilled… or at least lucky.

The man, now fully aware of the gap between them, scurried away on hands and knees before picking himself up and fleeing the scene at full speed—his retreat was fast, efficient, and practiced.

Itachi watched him go, a faint sigh escaping his lips.

No wonder he's survived so many close calls despite that mouth…

Reflecting on the exchange, Itachi realized there had been a minor flaw in his performance.

Winning the battle is easy. Executing it perfectly is not.

The one launching ninjutsu earlier hadn't been his real body—it was a shadow clone. Both the Phoenix Fire Jutsu and the basic genjutsu had come from the clone.

Meanwhile, his true self had used the Transformation jutsu, hiding in plain sight as an unassuming fireball. With the clone's chakra as a distraction, he'd circled behind his opponent, exploiting a fleeting lapse in attention to set up a finishing move.

If nothing had gone wrong, I would've taken his head clean off.

As for how the jonin fell into the genjutsu—it came down to precision, speed, and expertise. Itachi's genjutsu didn't require hand seals. Even a subtle movement was enough to ensnare someone if their attention wavered.

This was Itachi's mastery: even a low-level illusion, if timed perfectly, could open a critical window.

Of course, such basic genjutsu could be broken easily—if the opponent was calm and quick enough. But in battle, a single heartbeat of distraction was all he needed.

Compared to Itachi's calm composure, Juzo was struggling.

The deafening roar from earlier had drawn too much attention, and now he found himself surrounded and under attack.

To make matters worse, Itachi's black flames had been so terrifying—and the reputation of the Sharingan so intimidating—that their enemies instinctively chose the seemingly weaker target first: Juzo.

So now he was in a tight spot. Despite his powerful and heavy attacks, he couldn't end the fight quickly.

He wasn't working from the shadows this time—this wasn't an assassination mission.

Juzo had instinctively used the Hidden Mist Jutsu because he loved operating within it. But now, he wasn't running for his life, nor was he on a solo mission.

He was stuck.

Spinning in place with brute force, he repelled four attackers with a violent counterattack, forcing them back.

Juzo exhaled deeply.

Luckily, the attackers weren't united in their assault. Many were still lurking in the mist, hesitant to act—like predators waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With Itachi's identity revealed and Juzo's giant beheading sword now visible, it was obvious who they were. And both carried wealth—money, valuables, and most importantly, high bounties.

The hidden enemies were like starving wolves, ready to pounce.

The moment they attacked, chaos would erupt.

"You look like you're having a rough time, juzo.. Forget Plan A. Let's switch to Plan D."

Itachi emerged through the thinning mist.

The reason the fog was fading was simple: Juzo had stopped feeding it chakra after realizing his approach was flawed.

"Plan D? When the hell did we have a Plan D?"

Juzo blinked in confusion, genuinely caught off guard.

They had only devised two strategies:

Plan A, where they fought independently.

And Plan B, with Juzo up front sweating it out while Itachi supported from behind.

"We didn't before," Itachi replied with a faint smile, amused by Juzo's baffled expression. "But we do now."

Behind that serene smile, however, his Mangekyō Sharingan spun rapidly, fully awakened.

If he was going to burn through chakra, it was better to go all in with Susanoo than waste it on techniques like Amaterasu that might not even kill. Even a skeletal version of Susanoo could crush these small fry.

These enemies posed no real threat to Itachi.

And so—Plan D was born.

"Oh? And what is Plan D—?" Juzo started to ask, but then stopped himself. With so many people around, blurting it out could ruin the surprise.

"Just watch my back," Itachi said softly, as Juzo approached.

Chakra surged from Itachi's body, and the wheel in his Sharingan whirled.

The remaining mist scattered in an instant as a wave of chakra pulsed outward. Crimson light shimmered around him.

First came the ribs, skeletal and jagged. Then—slowly—the arms, and the head.

A towering skeletal figure nearly ten meters tall formed around Itachi, its eye sockets glowing red with an eerie, divine light.

Compared to the mini Susanoo he'd used before, this was the first time Itachi had fully manifested the form.

Two trails of blood trickled from his eyes.

He was finally bleeding heavily.

"Two minutes," he muttered, feeling the chakra evaporate at an alarming rate.

Without hesitation, he drove Susanoo's massive skeletal fist forward—aimed straight at the enemies who had just overwhelmed Juzo.

Even Juzo flinched at the overwhelming force behind Itachi's chakra. But he quickly shook it off and fell into formation behind Itachi as instructed.

That order hadn't been given lightly.

Itachi remembered how, during Sasuke's battle with Danzo, Susanoo's second form—though armed and reinforced—had nearly been broken by a Wind Release attack from behind.

In its early stages, Susanoo had one glaring vulnerability: its exposed back

The punch landed hard—shattering one and a half of the four stunned opponents.

Two of them managed to react in time, using a burst of chakra to propel themselves out of the strike zone.

One was caught dead-on, paralyzed by the sheer wind pressure.

Another stumbled away a few steps—but not far enough to escape the edge of the impact.

The appearance of the blood-red, skeletal warrior stunned everyone into silence.

Jaw after jaw dropped.

Panic spread like wildfire. They scrambled in all directions, desperate to flee the divine specter that loomed over the battlefield.

Everyone knew the truth: Susanoo was a god's embodiment.

Its power was overwhelming. Its aura, divine.

For those with fragile spirits, it was paralyzing.

"Three seconds..." Itachi whispered, his face turning ghostly pale.

He had miscalculated.

He had accounted for the time required to maintain Susanoo—but forgotten how much chakra it consumed when attacking.

What had seemed like a surplus of chakra was draining far faster than expected.

And now he was burning out faster than planned.

Itachi's leisurely pace began to quicken.

Still calm, but no longer unhurried.

The moment the group saw him approaching, panic swept through them. Realizing who was walking toward them, they bolted—pouring all their strength into consecutive Body Flickers, fleeing so fast it seemed their muscles might tear from the strain.

Some sharp-eyed onlookers, however, were not just afraid—they were also furious.

They noticed Itachi's disheveled state. Blood dripped steadily from his eyes, staining the ground beneath him. It was clear the technique he'd just used had cost him dearly in chakra.

And they hadn't forgotten: he was still not even thirteen.

How much chakra could a child's body possibly sustain?

The imposing skeletal form of Susanoo began to flicker and fade.

Jūzō, who had been following closely behind, blinked in surprise as the towering Susanoo vanished before his eyes. But he didn't hesitate.

He stepped forward, passing Itachi, and stood firmly in front of him—shielding the boy from the predatory eyes now circling like vultures.

"If you ever drink sake on a mission again," Itachi muttered, eyes still on the crowd, "I'll be the one to cut you down first."

Jūzō's chest warmed at the gesture—it was rare for Itachi to show such sentiment—but the words, as always, were blunt.

Itachi didn't realize it himself, but he was angry.

As a deeply rational person, he found moments like this—the chaos, the loss of control—deeply unsettling.

"Eh… Let's save the scolding for after we survive this," Jūzō said with a smirk, unable to take even a scolding from Itachi seriously. His voice carried a hint of humor, lightening the tension

"Hmph. Don't joke around."

Itachi rolled his eyes and wiped the blood from his face, then slowly walked toward Yamamoto Yoshi and Kakashi.

Though Itachi no longer seemed aggressive, none of the onlookers dared move. Everyone was quietly weighing the risks, waiting for someone else to make the first move.

"Come on! He's just a kid. He's definitely out of chakra now. Let's take him down, rip out his Sharingan, and cash in on that bounty!"

Someone tried to rally the crowd.

Itachi's steps paused.

And the one who shouted? At the first flicker of Itachi's attention, he turned and ran in blind terror.

He vanished from sight in seconds.

Itachi's lips curled into a calm smile.

Still within expectations.

"Hey, Yamamoto, you've got potential. How about joining big bro here? No more starving—how does nine meals a day sound, huh?"

Itachi dramatically planted one foot atop a thirty-centimeter-high rock, pointed his finger at Yamamoto, and grinned wildly, his tone completely at odds with his earlier demeanor.

Yamamoto and Kakashi exchanged baffled glances.

Wasn't this the same guy who'd just summoned a giant spectral warrior moments ago? What was with this sudden... eccentric energy?

Jūzō sighed silently, utterly mortified.

Where did that cool, silent image go...?

He mentally vowed never to let Itachi near alcohol again. This kid acts like he's got multiple personalities...

"I'm going back to Konoha. I'm not messing around with you anymore," Yamamoto said seriously, clearly done with the theatrics.

Kakashi's eyes crinkled in amusement behind his mask.

"Itachi," he said gently, "you should come home too. Your brother's waiting. If you don't return soon… he might start thinking someone else is his big brother."

The first half of the sentence sounded ordinary—but the second half carried a subtle, cutting undertone.

Itachi opened his mouth to respond, only to be caught off guard by the unexpected jab. Just as he began to speak, Kakashi gave Yamamoto a nod, and both disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

"Let them go," Itachi murmured, watching the space they vanished from. "Fallen leaves always return to their roots."

"Why'd you let them go?" Jūzō asked, confused. "If they escape, the mission fails."

"If you want to chase them, go right ahead," Itachi replied, arms outstretched. "I've got nothing left to give."

His tone was calm, but distant.

Besides, he thought, Sasuke is still in Konoha. I'm still their spy. There's no way I'd actually fight Kakashi…

Still, Kakashi's parting words lingered in his mind. Itachi wasn't entirely sure what he meant by them—but they stirred something.

The coward who shouted earlier? His sudden retreat had a ripple effect. The crowd began to lose its nerve. One by one, they started slipping away, unwilling to confront Itachi and instead choosing to pursue Kakashi's trail.

"It's over," Itachi whispered, gazing at the few stragglers and the ruined battlefield around them.

Thankfully, despite the noise and destruction, no civilians had been harmed. Most had fled long before the fighting began in earnest.

"Yeah. Mission failed," Jūzō muttered. "The guy's are going to roast us for this."

But he made no move to chase the targets.

Itachi was in no condition to continue, and Jūzō wasn't about to abandon him now.

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