Itachi remained expressionless, his brows only creasing slightly.
Something stirred faintly in the depths of his Mangekyō Sharingan.
He did not care about this man's mockery.
I don't care.
He repeated it to himself.
Those words-"slaughtering your own family," "executioner"-he had said them to himself thousands of times over countless sleepless nights.
Every word was carved into his bones.
Carved there on the night he watched Sasuke run away crying.
But he cared about Sasuke.
As long as Sasuke could live, as long as he could someday understand-
No, he doesn't need to understand.
He only needs to live.
So he did not argue.
Arguing meant wavering, and wavering meant collapse.
He had already forged himself into a blade.
A blade needed no feelings, only a sharp edge, only the ability to cut away Konoha's internal conflicts. All of this was for Konoha. As a member of the Uchiha Clan, he knew all too well the danger the clan posed.
"Nothing to say? Trying to look brooding?"
Miki Yūya deliberately raised his voice.
"You killed your whole family, slaughtered the entire Uchiha Clan, and now you're standing there looking all solemn. Who's that act supposed to impress?"
Itachi remained silent.
His Mangekyō Sharingan shifted slightly, as though assessing something.
Kakashi's position, Guy's stance...
His mind worked like a precision instrument, filtering every variable out of the noise.
Just then-
A low, furious voice sounded behind Itachi.
"Enough!"
Kisame Hoshigaki strode forward.
With Samehada resting on his shoulder, chakra surged through his body like an undertow.
Fury covered his lined face, his sharklike eyes locked firmly on Miki Yūya.
Kisame's anger was real. Itachi could tolerate this, but he could not.
All they saw was the label of rogue ninja.
All they saw was the bloodshed of the Uchiha Clan Massacre.