Another Dodge

The rooftop of an abandoned storehouse on the Uchiha compound's outskirts was a patchwork of cracked tiles and shadows, the night air sharp with the scent of rust and damp wood. Akira stood frozen, his two-tomoe Sharingan locked on Shisui Uchiha's glowing eyes, the older shinobi's accusation, "I followed you. You're meeting strangers, hiding scrolls, and Kenta's dead. I want the truth, now, or I take you to Fugaku", a blade at his throat. Eight weeks remained until the Uchiha Massacre, and Akira's world was a tightening noose: Kenta's blood, the masked figure's threat, Yumi's mysterious scroll fragment, and now Shisui's suspicion. His wounds throbbed, blood seeping through his tunic, a reminder of his fight with the figure who'd killed his cousin. The visions of the *Naruto* series burned in his mind: the clan's doom, Sasuke's screams, Itachi's cold blade.

His heart raced, but he forced his breathing steady, his face a mask of confusion and fear. Shisui was a prodigy, loyal to the clan but bound to Itachi, and his Sharingan saw too much. Akira couldn't fight him, not with his injuries, not with the clan on edge. He lowered his kunai, his posture open, vulnerable, but his mind churned, weighing every word, every move. The scroll fragment from Yumi, tucked in his tunic, was a secret he couldn't reveal, its spiral symbol and talk of an "Elder" a spark that could ignite or destroy.

"Shisui-nii, I don't know what you think you saw," Akira said, his voice low, trembling with feigned panic. "I'm not hiding anything, I swear. Kenta's gone, and it's tearing me up, he was my cousin, my family. I've been sneaking around, yeah, but only because I'm scared. I keep seeing strangers near the shrine, stealing our scrolls, and I thought… I thought I could stop them, do something useful. I met a girl tonight, she said she knew about Root, but I didn't trust her, so I let her go. I'm just trying to protect us, but I'm in over my head."

Shisui's eyes narrowed, his Sharingan spinning, searching Akira's face for lies. "You're always where trouble is, Akira," he said, his voice heavy, laced with doubt and concern. "Kenta's dead, I found his body, buried by the river, throat slit. You were close to him, pushing him to confront Fugaku. Now you're meeting strangers, hiding scrolls? It doesn't add up. I want to believe you, but you're making it hard. If you're working with someone, or if you know who killed Kenta, tell me now, or I can't protect you from what's coming."

Akira's stomach twisted, Shisui's words a confirmation of his fears: Kenta's body had been found, the clan's hunt closing in. He'd buried Kenta to hide the truth, but Shisui's instincts were too sharp. He wove an *Illusory Whisper*, threading a subtle suggestion: *He's just a scared kid.* "I didn't know Kenta was dead," Akira said, his voice cracking, tears welling for effect. "I thought he ran off, scared or something. I pushed him to talk to Fugaku because he was right about spies, I saw one myself, near the shrine, with our plans. I'm not working with anyone, Shisui-nii, I'm just trying to keep up. Please, don't take me to Fugaku, he'll think I'm a traitor, and I'm not."

Shisui's posture softened, his Sharingan flickering, the suggestion taking root. He stepped closer, his voice softer but firm. "You're playing a dangerous game, Akira, and it's gonna get you killed. I'm not taking you to Fugaku, yet, but I'm watching you. Stay away from strangers, stop sneaking around. If I find out you're lying, or if you're tied to Kenta's death, I won't hesitate. For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth."

He vanished in a blur, leaving Akira alone, his breath ragged, his wounds screaming. He'd dodged Shisui's blade, but the cost was high. The clan knew Kenta was dead, and Shisui's suspicion was a shadow he couldn't shake. He tucked the scroll fragment deeper into his tunic, its spiral symbol a mystery that burned. Yumi's meeting at the old mill tomorrow night was a risk, but her talk of an "Elder" and a plan to "cleanse" the Uchiha was a thread he couldn't ignore. He slipped off the rooftop, his *Veil of Shadows* flickering, and headed into the compound's heart.

---

The Uchiha compound was a storm of grief and anger as Akira returned, the morning light pale and heavy. He slipped through the streets, his wounds throbbing, his Sharingan scanning for crows. Kenta's death was public now, the clan's paranoia a wildfire, whispers of traitors and Root echoing. At home, Hana's voice was raw with pain. "Akira, they found Kenta," she said, her eyes red, her hands trembling. "He's dead, throat cut, buried like garbage. He was family, and now this? You're hurt again, sneaking out, and I'm terrified you're next. I'm your mother, I see you slipping away. Tell me what's happening, please, I can't lose you too."

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Akira's throat tightened, his guilt a knife. He pulled away, his voice soft, strained. "Kaa-san, I'm so sorry about Kenta, I didn't know. It's tearing me up too, he was my cousin. I got hurt sparring, pushed too hard, that's all. I'm trying to be strong for us, but the clan's a mess, and I'm scared. I'll stay safe, I promise, so please don't cry." The lie was bitter, but the truth, his role in Kenta's death, Yumi's scroll, the masked figure, would shatter her.

Taro's gaze was hard, his voice gruff. "Kenta's death has the elders raging, Akira. They're sure it's Root, but some are looking at us, saying a Uchiha did it. You were always with him, talking, pushing him. If you know anything, even a hint, you'd better speak up, because they're not stopping until someone's blood is spilled."

Akira's heart raced, but he kept his expression neutral. "I don't know, Tou-san. Kenta was paranoid, talking about spies, but he didn't tell me anything. I thought he was just stressed. I'm as lost as everyone." He sipped his tea, his mind spinning. The elders' hunt was a noose, and Yumi's scroll was a gamble he couldn't afford to lose.

After breakfast, Akira sought Fugaku at the police force headquarters, his wounds aching but his resolve firm. Fugaku was alone, reviewing reports, his face stern. Akira approached, his voice low, urgent. "Fugaku-sama, I heard about Kenta," he said, his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, he was my cousin, and it's killing me. People are saying Root did it, but I saw someone near the shrine, not Uchiha, with a scroll. I tried to stop them, got hurt. I don't know what to do, but I want to help, if you'll let me."

Fugaku's eyes narrowed, his voice heavy. "Kenta's death is a wound we can't ignore, Akira. You're young, but you're always where trouble is. Root's a threat, yes, but we can't act without proof. You saw a stranger? That's not enough. Stay out of it, or you'll end up like Kenta. We're handling this, and I don't need kids stirring more trouble."

Akira nodded, his expression earnest, but his mind churned. He wove an *Illusory Whisper*: *Root's inside the clan.* It was a subtle push, deepening Fugaku's doubt, keeping the clan paralyzed. "I understand, Fugaku-sama," he said. "I just want the clan safe." He left, his heart heavy, the scroll fragment a secret burning in his tunic.

---

That afternoon, Akira trained in a secluded basement beneath an old Uchiha archive, the air damp and heavy. He spread the stolen scrolls, his eyes on the *Genjutsu: Mind's Fracture*. Its cruelty was his weapon, used to break enemies without remorse. He practiced the *Veil of Shadows*, fading for eleven minutes before collapsing. He turned to the *Mind's Fracture*, its hand signs brutal, but the jutsu failed, his chakra faltering.

The Mangekyō was his only hope against Itachi, against the masked figure. He wove a self-inflicted genjutsu, the world dissolving into flames, his parents dead, Kenta's throat slit, Sasuke screaming. The masked figure loomed: "You're weak." Akira screamed, his Sharingan spinning, but the Mangekyō didn't come. He collapsed, gasping, blood dripping.

He stood, kunai in hand, and examined the scroll fragment again. The spiral symbol, the mention of an "Elder", they were pieces of a puzzle he couldn't solve yet. Yumi's meeting was a risk, but necessary. He tucked the fragment away, his wounds throbbing, his mind a storm. Kenta's death, Sasuke's fear, Shisui's suspicion, the masked figure's blade, they were closing in, but Akira kept moving, driven by a need he couldn't name.

He returned to the compound, slipping into his room as night fell. He sat by his window, staring at the moon, the scroll fragment hidden beneath a floorboard. Kenta's blood was a weight, his guilt a shadow, but he pushed it down. The clan was fracturing, the massacre looming, and Yumi's scroll was a spark he couldn't ignore. Tomorrow, he'd meet her, face the unknown, and keep moving forward, no matter the cost.