Konoha's higher-ups were like ants on a hot pan, willing to sell out the village's future for those pitiful scraps of profit.
Meanwhile, in Iwagakure, thousands of miles away.
The Uchiha Clan had entered the most glorious and comfortable era in its centuries-long history.
Sunlight filtered through the sparse shadows of trees on the training ground, falling across a young yet resolute face.
Uchiha Itachi wiped the sweat from his forehead and steadily tucked the kunai in his hand back into his ninja tool pouch.
All ten targets had been struck dead center.
"Big Brother! You're amazing!"
At the edge of the training ground, a little cool-looking boy with short black hair and still some baby fat on his cheeks came running over with a bottle of water in his arms.
Seven-year-old Second Pillar looked at his older brother with eyes full of admiration.
"I still have a long way to go."
Itachi took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a gulp.
At thirteen, he had long since shed the immaturity of youth.
He stood tall and handsome, and his black eyes held a calmness and wisdom far beyond his years.
There was no longer Konoha's suffocating oppression.
No longer the impossible choice between the clan and the village.
And certainly no more Shimura Danzō droning the "Will of Fire" into his ear all day.
Itachi's talent had been unleashed as never before.
He no longer needed to think about those crushing political problems that could break a young boy.
Now, there was only one thing he needed to do.
Grow stronger.
Then use that strength to protect the place that had given his clan a new life, as well as the man who was like a god to them.
"Sasuke, how is your Fire Release training going?"
Itachi