Eight-year-old Uchiha Itachi stood in the center of the clearing, his hands moving in a blur.
More than a dozen shuriken shot from his hands, colliding in midair to change their trajectories.
Thud, thud, thud!
Every shuriken struck the bull's-eye of a target on the surrounding tree trunks.
Even the targets hidden in blind spots took ricocheting shuriken straight to their centers.
Itachi stopped, breathing a little hard.
He walked over to a tree, pulled the shuriken out one by one, and returned them to his ninja tool pouch.
Over the past few days, he had been unable to concentrate on his training.
The things Chikage had told him in the carriage kept echoing in his mind.
"What the higher-ups want is power-the authority to dictate how interests are divided."
"Giving ground won't buy peace. It'll only make them demand more."
"To deal with them, you have to use the rules to corner them."
Those words had shattered Itachi's unwavering faith in the Will of Fire.
He had once believed that as long as everyone understood one another, as long as someone was willing to make sacrifices, peace would come to the village.
Shisui had told him the same thing.
But Chikage's actions had shown him an entirely different way to break the deadlock.
No bloodshed, no sacrifices-just the village's existing regulations.
That alone had dealt the lofty Hokage Advisor a heavy blow and secured tangible benefits for the clan.
Itachi looked up at the evening sunlight filtering through the leaves.
What was true peace, really?
Was it the selfless devotion the higher-ups preached, or the balance of interests Deputy Captain Chikage talked about?
Just as Itachi sank into thought...
The air behind him suddenly twisted in an eerie distortion.
A black vortex appeared out of nowhere.
A man wearing