Chapter 102: Can Uchiha Itachi Please Stop Being Such a Literal Bookworm?! (5000 words)

Izumi felt the temperature around her drop sharply—so abruptly that her skin prickled with icy dread. Her hair stood on end, every nerve in her body on high alert. The hilt of her kunai was already half-drawn from its sheath, and her eyes—burning with crimson Three Tomoe Sharingan—were locked onto Uchiha Itachi.

Her focus was absolute. Sweat beaded at her temples, her muscles taut and trembling with restrained tension. She was ready to strike, to defend, to act.

But then—she saw it.

Her breath hitched. Her pupils dilated.

In the air above Uchiha Itachi’s head, floating like ink spilled across a parchment, were words. Not just any words—text. Real, legible, hauntingly clear.

A cascade of characters, drifting in midair, each one pulsing with a cold, unnatural glow. As she stared, heart pounding, she recognized them instantly.

This… this was it.

The moment she’d heard Iizumi-senpai speak of it—the forbidden knowledge, the cursed foresight, the Future Evil that Uchiha Itachi would one day commit.

And there, in the thick, chaotic script, was a sentence so chilling it froze her blood:

> "One year from now: Uchiha Itachi will murder his own mother."

Her hands trembled.

That was the massacre. The genocide. The night the Uchiha clan fell. That was the future he was already scripting in his mind.

Her mind screamed in silent disbelief.

This… this is real? This is his future?

She couldn’t breathe.

She had seen it. Not speculated. Not imagined. Not whispered rumors. She had witnessed the prophecy unfold before her eyes.

And now, standing in front of her, was the man who would commit it.

Her Sharingan didn’t just see his movements. It saw his destiny.

A wave of fury, pure and unfiltered, surged through her. The betrayal wasn’t just against her family. It wasn’t just against the clan. It was against time itself.

She had never believed in Iizumi-senpai’s “Absolute Justice” with blind devotion. But now? Now she understood.

No one—no one—should be allowed to walk toward such a fate without resistance.

And yet… here was Itachi, standing there, calm, cold, utterly detached.

“…Izumi,” he said, voice like ice. “I can see it. You’re hesitating. You’re uncertain. Or perhaps… you’re guilty. I don’t need your words. Your silence speaks volumes.”

She blinked, stunned. She hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t moved. She was just… seeing.

And yet he interpreted her silence as guilt?

“Once, I thought you were different,” he continued, his tone unwavering. “A rare Uchiha. Not like the rest—driven by rage, by blood, by the curse of our name. You had potential. A different kind of soul.”

He paused. His eyes flickered with something almost like regret.

“But now… I see it. The bloodline. It’s in your veins. You’re no different from the others. You’re still trapped. Still bound by the same chains.”

His voice hardened.

“Then you’re not just a friend. You’re an enemy.”

Izumi’s jaw clenched.

What the hell is he even talking about?!

She hadn’t done anything! She hadn’t even spoken! She was just… seeing the future. And he was already calling her a traitor?

“…Can you please stop speaking like some kind of delusional, sixth-grade drop-out from Ninja Academy?” she snapped, voice sharp with disbelief. “I’m trying to process the fact that you’re about to commit mass murder, and you’re out here reciting your dramatic monologue like you’re in some over-the-top shōnen manga?”

She glared at him.

“And for the record—you are the one who needs a refresher course in basic emotional intelligence, not me!”

She exhaled sharply.

No wonder Iizumi-senpai always insisted Fugaku Clan Head take this idiot to see a psychologist.

And now I get it—Uchiha Itachi really needs to read more books. Like, actual books. Maybe even a dictionary. Or a grammar guide. Or… I don’t know—something to fix this mental block!

She winced internally.

Ugh. I can’t even listen to this anymore. It’s painful.

Uchiha Itachi didn’t flinch. He simply stared at her, his expression unreadable.

“Some truths,” he said, “can’t be taught in Ninja Academy. No matter how many years you spend there. You have to live them. You have to see them. Only then do you understand the depth of the crisis tearing apart the Leaf Village from within.”

Izumi fell silent.

…Yeah. Maybe I shouldn’t have even tried to reason with him.

He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t capable of listening.

He was too far gone.

She tightened her grip on her kunai, her body coiled like a spring.

Then—something shifted.

Uchiha Itachi’s gaze flicked sideways. His head tilted slightly. His expression… changed.

He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

He was staring at the alleyway.

Izumi followed his line of sight.

And there, beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp, stood a small figure.

A child.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Her breath caught.

The two brothers locked eyes across the distance.

Itachi’s gaze was unreadable—something complex, buried beneath layers of cold calculation. But in Sasuke’s wide, innocent eyes, Izumi saw only shock, pain, and a dawning horror.

He knows.

He knows about the Future Evil.

Of course he does.

It’s not like the truth was a secret. The entire village had whispered about it. The night the Uchiha clan would fall. The night Itachi would become a monster.

And Sasuke—only eight years old—had been forced to learn it too.

“…I’ve been looking for you!” Sasuke’s voice, high and trembling, cut through the silence like a blade. He stepped forward, fists clenched, his face a mask of anguish. “Why?! Why would you do it?! Why kill Father? Why kill Mother?! What made you become this? You never told me! You never explained!”

Itachi remained silent.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. The weight of the moment pressed down on them all.

Then, slowly, he spoke.

“Because of capacity,” he said. “You all see only the clan. Only your family. Only the bloodline. Your capacity is limited. Even your father—even he—was trapped in that narrow view. He wanted balance. He wanted peace. But peace built on lies? That’s not peace. That’s sacrifice.”

He looked at Sasuke, almost pityingly.

“The moment the Uchiha clan showed discontent, the fall was inevitable. Your father couldn’t stop it. He’s not strong enough. He’s just… patching. Filling holes with paper, hoping they’ll hold. But the cracks grow. And when the collapse comes… he’ll be dragged down by those even more desperate than him.”

A cold smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

“Sasuke… are you so eager to die now? So you don’t have to live with the truth? Is that it?”

He stepped forward.

“Pathetic. A child with the mind of a coward. Oudou Dou, you’re nothing but a dreamer.”

Just as he took another step—clink—a sharp, metallic sound cut through the air.

Izumi had drawn her kunai fully and planted herself in front of him, blade held firm, blocking his path.

The wind stirred her black hair. Her Sharingan burned crimson, veins pulsing with fury.

“Uchiha Itachi,” she said, voice low and steady, “you’re not some tragic hero. You’re not some misunderstood martyr. You’re a monster who’s already decided to kill his own mother.”

She glared at him.

“And you’re not going to brainwash a child with your delusional, third-grade-level philosophy. Not while I’m still standing.”

Itachi’s expression didn’t change.

“You’re not my opponent.”

“I don’t care,” Izumi shot back. “Absolute Justice doesn’t retreat. Not when the innocent are in danger. Not when a child is being manipulated by a madman. If Justice doesn’t stand in front of the helpless, then what’s left in this twisted, broken world?”

For a heartbeat, silence.

Then—Itachi’s eyes flickered.

His gaze shifted.

Behind Sasuke.

A figure had stepped into the light.

Izumi turned her head.

And saw her.

Uchiha Mikoto.

Her mother.

Her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed, her hands trembling. But she stood tall. She stood strong.

Itachi’s eyes met hers.

A long, heavy silence.

Then, without a word, he turned.

A single step. Then another.

And then—shunshin.

He vanished.

Like smoke.

Izumi exhaled, her body finally relaxing.

She turned to Mikoto.

The woman gave her a small, fragile smile.

“…Thank you, Izumi,” she whispered, voice raw. “Thank you for protecting my son.”

But Izumi could feel it—the grief beneath the words. The pain. The betrayal.

She’d seen the effect Itachi had on Fugaku Clan Head. But this… this was deeper. This was motherhood.

She could see it in Mikoto’s eyes—the love, the hope, the loss.

Izumi swallowed hard.

She sheathed her kunai.

“It was my duty,” she said. “He’s a danger. A walking prophecy of destruction. And Sasuke… he’s innocent. I couldn’t let him be hurt.”

Mikoto nodded, then knelt beside Sasuke. She wiped his tears with the back of her hand, her touch gentle, tender.

Then she stood, took his small hand, and looked at Izumi.

“Izumi… can I ask you something?”

Izumi blinked.

“…Yes.”

“Can you… take me and Sasuke… to see Iizumi-senpai?”

Izumi froze.

Even Sasuke, who had been sniffling and staring at the ground, snapped his head up.

What?

The request hit her like a thunderbolt.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t do this. That she’d stay out of the past. That she’d protect the present.

But Mikoto… her mother… she looked so broken.

And Sasuke—his eyes were still wide, still searching.

Izumi took a deep breath.

“…Alright,” she said. “I’ll take you.”

---

Meanwhile, within the Tsuchi no Clan’s compound.

The entire clan had gathered in the central hall. In the middle of the room, lying on a cold stone slab, was a body.

A boy.

Tsuchi no Ryūji.

His neck bore a grotesque, stitched wound—like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Little Spring!” his father roared, eyes blazing red. “He was our child! A promising young ninja! He’d have been a special jonin! He hadn’t even graduated from Ninja Academy!”

His mother knelt beside the body, sobbing, her fingers brushing her son’s cold cheek.

“He was just a child,” she whispered. “He didn’t deserve this.”

Tsunade Konoha stood at the edge of the hall, her face grim.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” she said, voice low. “Do you think I want this? But what can I do? Kill Uchiha Iizumi? That’s not possible. He’s too powerful. Too fast. Too clever.”

A murmur of despair spread through the clan.

Then—crack.

The door burst open.

An Anbu Ninja stood in the doorway, mask still on, body tense.

“Tsunade Konoha,” he said, voice clipped. “Shimura Danzō is dead. Uchiha Iizumi killed him.”

Silence.

Then—chaos.

“WHAT?!”

“Danzō was in Anbu Base! With seven elite guards!”

“Impossible! No one could breach that!”

Tsunade’s face darkened.

“You’re saying Danzō—the Root leader—was assassinated inside the Anbu Base?”

The Anbu nodded.

“And Hyūga Menji was there. He ordered us not to interfere. If you want to blame someone… go to him.”

He turned.

And left.

The clan members stared at each other.

No one spoke.

Finally, one voice broke the silence.

“…Maybe… maybe Ryūji died for a reason. Maybe he deserved it.”

Another sighed.

“…We should prepare a funeral.”

An elder spoke up.

“You’re young. You can have another child.”

The message was clear.

Let it go. Don’t dig. Don’t fight. Not now. Not against someone like Uchiha Iizumi.

The parents said nothing.

They just looked at their son’s body.

---

In the Shimura Clan’s quarters.

The air was heavier than stone.

They hadn’t even been allowed to see Danzō’s body. It was sealed away—too dangerous, too sensitive. The truth inside that corpse was too explosive.

After a long silence, a voice finally spoke.

“Danzō-sama gave everything. He poured his life into the Leaf. He poured the clan’s wealth into Root. Without him, Root wouldn’t exist. Without him, we’d be nothing.”

A young Shimura ninja clenched his fists, tears in his eyes.

“And now? Now the Uchiha—that cursed clan—has taken him. And the worst part? It was Uchiha Iizumi who did it!”

His voice cracked.

“Are we just going to stand here? Let him win? Let Danzō die for nothing? Let Root fall into Tsuchi no’s hands?!”

The others growled.

They were not the soft, idealistic kind. They were hardened. They had been molded by Danzō’s ideology.

The Uchiha were evil. The Uchiha must be destroyed.

And now, one of them had killed the man who stood for that cause.

“…We can’t fight Iizumi directly,” said an elder, eyes narrow. “He’s too strong. Too dangerous.”

He paused.

“But… he’s not united with the rest of the clan. He’s an outcast. He’s hated by Fugaku. He’s despised by the hardliners. Even the moderate Uchiha don’t trust him.”

A flicker of hope.

“So… we could use that,” someone said. “We could turn the Uchiha against themselves.”

Another voice.

“Uchiha Setsuna? He’s strong. He’s loyal. He might be willing…”

The elder nodded.

“Then we begin. Not with war. With manipulation. With division.”

---

Back at Iizumi-senpai’s simple two-story home.

Izumi stood at the door, heart pounding.

She’d promised Mikoto. She’d agreed.

But what if Iizumi-senpai was angry? What if this was a mistake?

She glanced back.

Mikoto stood there, calm but trembling. Sasuke clung to her hand, eyes wide.

She took a deep breath.

Then pressed the doorbell.

Click.

The door opened.

A high-pitched, eerie voice rang out.

“Huh? You’re here again, newcomer.”

Izumi looked down.

And saw Ninja Cat Tachibana Jiro, standing on his hind legs, tail flicking.

“…Tachibana Jiro-senpai?!”

He blinked his wide, golden eyes.

“Mew? Two new guests?” He tilted his head. “And a Uchiha? And a child? This is… unexpected.”

Mikoto forced a polite smile.

“We’re sorry to intrude.”

Sasuke stared at the cat, then back at his mother.

“…Why are we here?”

Izumi looked at the door.

She took another breath.

“Because,” she said softly, “some truths… need to be seen.”

And then, from the darkness behind the door—

A figure stepped forward.

The air grew still.

The world held its breath.

The moment had come.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end