Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 105

Night fell heavily over the Hokage’s Tower, cloaking the office in muted lamplight and long, creeping shadows. Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat behind his desk with a tightly rolled scroll clutched in his hand. His face was grave — deeper lines carved by worry settling around his eyes.

Across from him stood Itachi Pottaru, calm and composed, though the Hokage could sense tension beneath that surface stillness.

“This message,” Hiruzen began, tapping the scroll with a weary hand, “was intercepted by our intelligence unit near the border.”

He unrolled it, letting the inked symbols catch the light. They were rough, hastily written — but the words were unmistakable.

Orochimaru sighted.

Traveling alongside agents of Akatsuki.

Hiruzen exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his pipe.

“Orochimaru has not simply gone into hiding. He has… aligned himself.”

Itachi’s eyes sharpened slightly. “Akatsuki.”

“You’re familiar with the name?”

“Yes,” Itachi replied softly. “I once heard of them from Jiraiya-sama. A group formed by rogue shinobi with unknown motives.”

Hiruzen nodded. “Unknown is what troubles me. Jiraiya suspects their headquarters is located in Amegakure — a village caught between wars, ruled by secrecy and rain. He traveled there weeks ago to investigate… and since then, no report has reached us.”

There was a flicker of emotion across Itachi’s face — concern, restrained but present. Jiraiya was more than a spy — he was a pillar, a guardian from the shadows.

Hiruzen’s voice dropped to a lower tone, heavy with decision.

“Itachi… I want you to go to Amegakure.”

Silence thickened between them. Itachi bowed his head slightly.

“Do you believe this Akatsuki group is a threat to the Five Great Nations?”

“I believe,” Hiruzen answered, leaning back with a deep sigh, “that any organization capable of guiding Orochimaru toward them… is a danger beyond measure.”

He met Itachi’s gaze directly.

“And I trust no one more than you to uncover the truth.”

Itachi’s Sharingan flickered briefly in reflection of a passing thought. He had only just returned home — his father was back, the rescued children were safe — and yet…

His duties called.

“Understood,” Itachi said quietly. “I will leave as soon as possible.”

But Hiruzen raised a hand.

“No. Not immediately. Jiraiya has been out of contact for weeks. A direct pursuit could expose you to their surveillance. I want you to gather any existing knowledge first.”

He stood, pacing slowly.

“These Akatsuki… they move in shadows. They recruit monsters like Orochimaru — not with threats… but promises.”

Itachi watched him thoughtfully. “What could Orochimaru desire that he didn’t already seek alone?”

Hiruzen’s expression turned grim.

“Immortality. Forbidden power. Freedom from judgment.”

He turned back to Itachi. “And those who promise such things usually demand something even darker in return.”

Hiruzen took a seat again, his voice softening.

“There is another matter. This mission… it may take days. Weeks. Perhaps longer.”

Itachi nodded slowly. “My father will worry.”

“Yes,” Hiruzen agreed with a faint smile. “Harry is a good man — but he carries a fire inside him that might burn the world if he thinks his child is threatened.”

Itachi’s lips curved just slightly — an acknowledgement of truth.

“I will speak with him. He deserves to know.”

Hiruzen rested his pipe down and sighed once more.

“I envy you, Itachi. You have a family to return to — even in war.”

Itachi bowed deeply. “Thank you, Lord Third.”

As he turned to leave, Hiruzen called after him.

“Itachi… be careful. Amegakure is a maze of distrust and sorrow. Even the rain there feels like it’s watching you.”

Itachi paused at the door. “I will watch back.”

When Itachi stepped outside into the cool night, Konoha’s lanterns flickered softly in the breeze.

In the distance, the Pottaru Estate glowed warm and safe — a picture of peace he was sworn to protect.

Jugo and Guren were settling into rooms nearby. Naruto’s laughter echoed faintly over the rooftops. Nawaki was likely asleep curled against Harry’s side.

Itachi stood there for a moment, breathing in the scent of home — knowing he would soon trade it for the endless, watchful rain of Amegakure.

His mind sharpened like a blade in a whetstone of resolve.

Orochimaru had chosen a new den of vipers.

The Akatsuki had shown their hand — barely, but enough.

And Itachi… would follow that thread into the storm.

He whispered into the fading wind:

“For peace… I will walk any darkness.”

Then he set off toward home — to say his farewells before disappearing into the shadows once more.

The Pottaru estate felt smaller and warmer than the world outside. Lantern light pooled on the tatami, and the scent of simmering broth drifted from the kitchen. Itachi stood in the low hallway, palms folded, the report from the Hokage still warm in his hand. He had come to tell the family — because that was what you did before walking into rain.

They were all there in the sitting room when he entered: Mikoto quietly arranging a tea tray, Naruto fidgeting with a kunai as if it were a toy that might take off at any moment, Nawaki tucked beneath a blanket on the floor, Tsunade leaning against a pillar with a towel over her shoulder pretending not to watch, and Harry, who had been packing a small kit by the doorway, looked up at him with a face that betrayed every color at once — pride, worry, hunger for something fierce.

Itachi folded the scroll carefully and set it on the low table. “There’s been intelligence,” he said simply. “Orochimaru has been seen traveling with members of the Akatsuki. The Hokage wants me to investigate Amegakure, find Jiraiya, and learn what I can.”

For a second the room hung between syllables. Then Naruto exploded.

“No! You can’t just leave again!” he shouted. He pushed himself up so fast his knees cracked. “You just got back — I had the whole day planned, and you always say you’ll help me train and then you disappear into doom-land! You’re not allowed to go! Not without me!” He stamped a foot like a child denying bedtime.

Itachi’s expression didn’t change. Calmness around a blade, honed and ready. “Naruto, this is a reconnaissance mission. It’s dangerous precisely because it requires stealth and caution. It’s small, and it must stay that way.”

Naruto’s jaw worked. “So that’s your excuse — ‘small’. You don’t get to use ‘small’ when ‘dangerous’ is called ‘Itachi-leaves-again’!”

Mikoto set the tea aside and rose to her feet. She moved to stand behind Naruto and laid a hand on his shoulder, not to restrain him but to lend him the steadiness of a mother. Her eyes were softer than Naruto’s storm; worry lived there in quiet waves.

“Itachi,” she said, voice measured, “you know I will always worry. But you are not a child. If Hiruzen trusts you, then we trust him and you.” She looked at her son — the man who had been gone only weeks ago and yet always seemed to be stepping into another storm. “Come back to us.”

Tsunade snorted but there was no real heat in it. “If you come back with any missing limbs or riddled with pain, I’m going to make sure you can’t leave the house for a month.”

Harry stood. The light dropped into the hollows of his face; his smile came slow and bright as a strike of flint. “Itachi,” he said, stepping forward and placing both hands on his son’s shoulders, “you heard Hiruzen. This is necessary.” His voice deepened. “But you’ve also heard me — while you were out there, I saw a chance I did not want to take.” He tightened his hands a fraction, and the memory sharpened in his eyes.

Itachi met his father’s gaze. “You mean the fight at Orochimaru’s lab.”

Harry nodded. “Yes. You didn’t kill him then because there were innocents still inside those chambers — children who were still breathing and who needed saving. I chose to save them instead of running after a man who would have made more monsters in another hour or another place.”

He let the silence grow for a beat longer before the next words left him, pressed like a hammer. “If you see him again — and if Orochimaru has the chance to prey on more innocent people — then make sure he cannot hurt anyone ever again. No experiments, no bargains, no escapes. He sought immortality, power — he will never stop. He must be stopped.”

There was a livid flash behind Itachi’s eyes, ninety percent shadow and ten percent ash. “I understand.”

Naruto’s anger softened into something like steel-cut worry. “So you’re going to kill him?” he demanded bluntly, the child’s ruthless clarity that never filtered itself. “If you get the chance, don’t come back with him alive. Promise me.”

Itachi’s voice was low and unadorned. “I will not promise to kill for revenge. I will promise to prevent further harm. If the only way to ensure that is to end Orochimaru’s life, then I will not hesitate.”

Harry’s hands tightened, then relaxed. He stepped back and looked at his family in order: Mikoto, whose worry was stiff with faith; Tsunade, who worried in professional terms; Naruto, whose fury camouflaged an unlearned courage; and Nawaki, asleep and clutching a ragged toy, unaware of the storm. Finally his eyes came to rest on Itachi.

“You lost a chance before,” Harry said, quieter now. “We all did. Innocent lives were the reason. But this time… take anything you need. I’ll ask the Daimyō for a diplomatic thread if it helps. If you want supplies, I’ll have them ready. And,” he added, softer, paternal, “come back to me.”

Itachi’s face loosened just a fraction, a motion like the first small crack of dawn. “I will tell you before I leave. I will be careful.”

Tsunade folded her arms, trying to look angry and instead giving a small bark of laughter. “There’s your pre-mission speech. Are we done with dramatics?”

Naruto stomped his foot again and then, in a sudden change of tack, shoved his fists into his pockets and tried to pretend he didn’t care. “Fine. But I’m not letting you go without me throwing a kunai at you, you know. One last practice throw. For old times’ sake.”

Mikoto picked up a small bundle and offered it to Itachi — a stack of steaming rice cakes wrapped in cloth. “Take food,” she said. “Hokage business likes to drag on.” Her eyes glittered with a calm bravery. “And call home when you can.”

Jugo shuffled into the doorway then, drawn out by the voices. He looked between Itachi and Harry and then hunched his shoulders. “If you’re going to Amegakure,” he said slowly, “watch for traps that feed on emotion. I’ve seen it in the labs — things that twist a man’s anger into chains. Don’t let them own you.”

Guren — still carrying the name Rin lightly like a borrowed coat — lingered by the shoji. She had been quiet, careful, nearly invisible in the conversation. When she spoke her voice was low, but it cut through the room cleanly: “If he promised to save so many lives at the cost of letting one slip by, it means he knows what mercy looks like. That mercy is not weakness.”

Her eyes found Itachi’s, and for a suspended second, something like mutual understanding passed between them: between the man who loved and feared his son and the woman who was not the monster she had been made to be.

Itachi bowed his head, accepting the small bundle, the weight of the mission already settling into his shoulders like armor. “I will be careful for all our sakes,” he said. “I will find Jiraiya if I can. If I can’t—”

“Then you report everything you learned,” Hiruzen’s voice came from the doorway as if he had been listening all along, because he had. He had a way of appearing without fanfare. The old man’s presence steadied the room like a keystone. “And remember: information is as important as force. Bring back truth.”

Itachi inclined his head. “Yes, Lord Third.”

The family clustered around him for a moment — small hands pressed to a mother’s sleeve, Harry’s shoulder a solid thing to rest on. When he stepped back and took his cloak from the peg, there was no dramatics, only a quiet readiness.

Naruto shoved up to him, shoved his shoulder hard and tried to look brave. “Don’t get eaten by rain, okay?” he said.

Itachi’s mouth quirked at the corner — the faintest hint of a smile. “I will watch the rain.”

Harry put a small sealed box into Itachi’s hand; inside were a few medical talismans and a strip of leather with a note tucked under it. The note was brief: Don’t forget why you fight. Not for hatred, but for them.

Itachi folded the note into his pocket, bowed once more to the family, and stepped out into the night. The gate closed behind him with the soft thud of duty taking its first step.

Inside the lantern-lit room the family stood for a long beat after he left, each feeling the small hollow his absence made. Harry set his hand over his heart and exhaled. “Bring him home,” Mikoto whispered.

“We will,” Hiruzen answered. “We’ll be watching the rain together.”

Outside, beyond the crest of the village, the clouds gathered. The distant rumble of a storm that smelled of metal and secrets rolled over the hills — Amegakure’s calling card. Itachi walked toward it with steady feet; the world behind him watched, ready for whatever the rain would reveal.