Kakashi Hatake

"Who?!" For the first time, Obito's voice carried real anger. He looked toward the black shadow that had suddenly appeared. The other party wore a standard Anbu uniform, with a mask over his face, revealing only one deep eye—that was an equally crimson Sharingan, three tomoe slowly rotating in the pupil, yet carrying a coldness and calm far beyond his age.

Duanmu seized the chance to retreat explosively like a wild horse that had snapped its reins, slamming hard into the wall and gulping down air. In that instant just now, he felt as if he had been only a hair's breadth from death.

He looked at the Anbu ninja who had suddenly appeared, and stormy waves surged through his heart—at this point in time, with this outfit, and that eye... could it be?

"Duanmu, you go first. I'll hold him off." As soon as the Anbu ninja finished speaking, he immediately formed hand seals. Lightning burst from his right hand in an instant. It was Chidori.

"Okay." Duanmu agreed almost on instinct. He knew this was no time to hesitate. Forcing down the weakness in his body and the lingering fear, he grabbed the unsteady Izumi and used all his strength to drag her toward the depths of the alley.

"Kakashi Hatake." Obito recognized his old friend at a glance.

"Who are you?" Kakashi clearly still did not know that the masked man before him was the Obito of the past.

The hand in which he held Chidori tightened slightly, and his Sharingan locked warily onto Obito, trying to catch any flaw in the other man's movements.

"Heh, Madara Uchiha!" As soon as he said it, the long blade in Obito's hand turned into a streak of black lightning and cleaved straight down toward Kakashi!

Kakashi's gaze sharpened, not daring to be the slightest bit careless.

He knew the man before him, who called himself "Madara Uchiha," had unfathomable strength. That brief exchange just now had already made him feel unprecedented pressure. He held Chidori in front of him, chakra circulating at high speed throughout his body, ready to meet this thunderous strike.

"Chidori!" Kakashi shouted under his breath, and the lightning in his hand grew even more violent, crackling and hissing as if it were a thunder dragon ready to lunge.

Clang!

The blade and Chidori collided with a thunderous crash, letting out a deafening boom. A violent energy shockwave spread outward from the two of them, shattering the surrounding walls and sending stone chips flying.

Kakashi only felt a tremendous force transmit through the blade, jolting his hand until the web between thumb and forefinger went numb. His arm nearly lost all feeling, and he retreated several steps in a row before he managed to steady himself.

Such tremendous power! Kakashi was shaken. He could feel that the other party's strength was far above his own, and within that power there was a cold, sinister aura that made him deeply uncomfortable.

Obito forced Kakashi back with a single blow, a trace of disdain flashing through his eyes. "With only that much skill, you dare try to stop me?"

"Your strength is indeed formidable, but why are you doing this?" Kakashi asked coldly, trying to find some clue from the other man's words. He did not believe the real Madara Uchiha would commit such a massacre against his own clan.

"Why?" Obito sneered. "Because this world is full of lies and betrayal. Only destruction can bring true peace!" His voice was filled with madness and resentment, as if he harbored a deep hatred for the entire world.

"You're wrong!" Kakashi retorted. "True peace doesn't come from destruction. It's created through everyone's shared effort!"

"Ridiculous!" Obito could not be bothered to waste any more words with Kakashi. His figure flashed, and he charged at Kakashi again. This time, he was even faster, the blade-light denser, every slash aimed directly at Kakashi's vitals.

Kakashi did not dare slack off. He immediately activated his Sharingan, relying on its insight to barely evade Obito's attacks. He knew he was no match in a direct clash and could only look for an opportunity to counterattack. In the alley, two figures shuttled and collided at high speed, bursts of metal ringing against metal echoing out as the battle grew exceptionally fierce.

On the other side, Duanmu dragged Izumi as they ran desperately through the alley. The wound on Izumi's shoulder was still bleeding nonstop, staining her clothes red and dyeing Duanmu's palm as well.

"Hold on, Izumi, we're almost out!" Duanmu gritted his teeth, his voice distorted from exertion. He could feel Izumi's body growing heavier and heavier, her breathing becoming weaker and weaker. Blood kept flowing from her shoulder, dragging a shocking trail of crimson across the ground.

"I... I can't run anymore..." Izumi's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, and her steps staggered even worse. The agony and blood loss made her vision begin to blur, and the alley before her eyes seemed to turn into an endless dark tunnel.

Duanmu stopped and looked back at Izumi's paper-pale face and the shoulder from which blood kept gushing. His heart burned with anxiety. If they kept running like this, Izumi would die from blood loss before Obito even caught up.

He quickly scanned their surroundings, and his gaze landed on a half-open cellar door not far away. It was the cellar of an ordinary Uchiha clansman, used to store food and miscellaneous items for the winter.

"We'll hide there for a while!" Duanmu made the decision on the spot and was about to drag Izumi stumbling toward the cellar entrance, but just then, another person blocked their way.

It was Itachi.

Izumi's consciousness had already begun to scatter. When she saw Itachi standing in front of them, her dim three-tomoe Sharingan, dulled by blood loss, widened slightly. A soft, unclear sound came from her throat, as if she wanted to call out that familiar name, yet no longer had the strength to speak.

She instinctively shrank a little behind Duanmu, even though she knew the boy before her could no longer provide her with much protection.

Itachi's expression was terrifyingly calm. In the dim light, no emotion could be seen in those deep black eyes. He simply stood there quietly, motionless like a sculpture, his gaze falling on Izumi's bloodless face and the savage wound on her shoulder. The air was thick with the smell of blood, mingled with dust and smoke.

"Itachi... Itachi Uchiha..." Duanmu's voice was somewhat hoarse. He shielded Izumi even more tightly, his heart pounding wildly beyond his control. He knew this boy—or rather, there were probably few ninja in all of Konoha who did not know this genius praised as the greatest the Uchiha had seen in a century. He just had not expected to run into him here, and even less did he know where Itachi stood at this moment. Enemy or ally?

"Duanmu, you may leave, but Izumi must stay." Itachi spoke slowly, his voice as calm as a bottomless pool of cold water, without the slightest ripple, as if he were merely stating an established fact.

Duanmu's heart sank hard. Sure enough, was Itachi on Obito's side? Or rather, was he himself a participant in this massacre of the clan? The thought made Duanmu feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

"Impossible!" Duanmu refused almost immediately. He held Izumi even tighter. Although his legs were still trembling faintly and the chakra inside him was almost completely exhausted, his gaze became firm once more. "I will never hand her over to you!"

Duanmu: No, Itachi, are you really heartless enough to kill your little girlfriend?

A barely perceptible ripple seemed to flash through Itachi's black eyes, but it was too quick for anyone to catch. He turned his head slightly, his gaze passing over Duanmu to look at Izumi's tightly shut eyes, closed from fear, and the shoulder that was still seeping blood.

"Leave Izumi." Itachi still said the same words. It seemed he was dead set on killing Izumi.

"Itachi, do you know that what you're doing now is pushing her into even deeper despair?"

"This is all for the village." Itachi's tone remained unchanged.

"But I want her to live." Duanmu's voice was very soft, yet carried an unquestionable stubbornness. "I can help you keep an eye on Sasuke."

At the mention of Sasuke, a clear ripple finally appeared in Itachi's black eyes, as if a stone had been thrown into the surface of that cold, still pool, sending out faint but distinct waves.

"You're the same age as Sasuke yourself. How could you possibly protect him completely?" A trace of hard-to-detect coldness finally seeped into Itachi's voice, as if he were mocking the boy's overestimation of his own abilities. He slowly raised his right hand, faint chakra light gathering at his fingertips. It was the starting form of the Great Fireball Technique.

"Believe me." Duanmu's voice carried a hint of desperate sincerity. He knew this was the only bargaining chip that could move the man before him.

He looked straight into Itachi's eyes. In those deep black eyes, complex emotions were churning now—wariness, scrutiny, and a hint of fluctuation where a weak point had been touched.

"I know you care about him, more than you care about anyone else. I can't promise him some bright future, but I'll use my life to protect him. At the very least, I'll keep him away from a tragedy like tonight's, away from this endless hatred and conspiracy."

Itachi's fingers, held in the seal for the Great Fireball Technique, tightened slightly. The chakra light at his fingertips flickered between bright and dim, like a candle flame swaying in the wind.

He fell silent, those bottomless black eyes locked tightly onto Duanmu, as if he wanted to see straight through his soul. In the alley, only the two of them's suppressed breathing remained, along with the faint sounds of weapons clashing in the distance from Kakashi and Obito's battle. The atmosphere was so heavy it was almost suffocating.

"You don't seem like someone your age." Itachi sighed softly and turned aside.

Duanmu knew he had won the gamble—not just because he had brought up Sasuke, but because deep down, Itachi had never wanted to kill Izumi.

"Take her and leave through the drainage tunnel to the east." Itachi's voice was still cold, but that absolute killing intent had faded. "I've already cleared out the guards there. The exit leads straight to the river outside the village." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Izumi's pale face before falling back on Duanmu. "Remember your promise. If anything happens to Sasuke, I'll make you wish you were dead."

"I understand." Duanmu nodded solemnly, without the slightest hesitation.

Duanmu wasted no more time. He bent down and scooped the barely conscious Izumi into his arms.

"Thank you," Duanmu said in a low voice, the two words so soft they were almost swallowed by the wind in the alley. He did not know whether Itachi heard them, and he did not turn back to look. Holding Izumi, he staggered yet ran quickly toward the east, in the direction Itachi had indicated.

Itachi stood where he was, watching that somewhat thin figure carry another, even more fragile life and disappear around the corner of the alley.

He slowly lowered his right hand, where chakra had been gathering. In the end, the light of the Great Fireball Technique never flared. The complex emotions in his black eyes receded like the tide, once again covered by an unfathomable coldness.

He raised a hand and gently pressed his left eye, where a familiar, faint sting came from.

"I hope you... won't make me regret this," Itachi murmured, his voice fading into the empty alley.