Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 48

The wind howled through the trees of southern Kirigakure as Itachi Pottaru and his comrades soared over branches and ravines, moving with speed and precision. The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the mist-heavy canopy, casting long shadows as they advanced toward their objective.

Their mission: the elimination of a senior loyalist commander, one of the last remaining war strategists under the Mizukage’s command. Mei Terumi herself had entrusted Itachi with this critical assassination, knowing that without this man, the enemy's structure would begin to crumble.

Itachi moved silently, his black cloak trailing behind him. At his side were Riku, Daiken, and Kaen, each of them battle-hardened now, though a piece of their formation still felt broken without Mito.

Her absence was like a wound that never closed.

“She would’ve wanted us to finish this war,” Riku said quietly, as if reading everyone’s thoughts.

“She would’ve been at the front,” Kaen added, adjusting his bracers.

Itachi didn’t speak, but his silence was heavier than any words. Mito’s name lived within him, a constant presence in his thoughts.

As they reached the rocky foothills near the enemy position, Itachi signaled for a pause. “We set camp here. Final approach begins at nightfall.”

Daiken nodded and dropped his pack. “Understood.”

But just as Riku was about to sit down, the wind around them suddenly shifted—unnatural and sharp.

A soft whir followed—a low, spiraling vortex that formed from the very air in front of them.

“Get ready!” Itachi barked, drawing a kunai in one hand and placing the other on a seal tag tucked in his sleeve.

The swirling space bent inward and twisted into a black-and-orange hole. In an instant, a man stepped out.

Tall. Calm.

Clad in a black cloak adorned with red clouds—the unmistakable cloak of the Akatsuki.

But what struck them even more was his face—hidden behind a swirling orange mask, with a single eyehole.

Behind it gleamed a Sharingan.

Kaen swore under his breath. “Is that…?”

Riku took a step back, unease rippling through him. “Another Uchiha?”

The man tilted his head slightly, as though studying them all. Then his gaze landed directly on Itachi.

“You’re him,” the masked man said, voice calm and almost… amused. “You’re the one they call Indra.”

Itachi’s grip on his kunai tightened. “Who are you?”

The man stepped closer, hands still behind his back, his tone casual. “Some call me Tobi. Some… call me Madara.”

Itachi’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe either.

“Tobi,” he said flatly, keeping his stance firm. “Why are you here?”

“I came,” Tobi replied, “to meet the Uchiha who’s been playing war in Kirigakure. You’ve caused quite the ripple, you know.”

“I’m not interested in games.”

“Neither am I,” Tobi said, and for a moment, his voice lost its playfulness. “You used Amaterasu. That caught our attention.”

Itachi didn’t answer.

Tobi’s visible eye narrowed. “Mangekyō Sharingan… You have it. Which means you are no ordinary shinobi. And yet… you wear no clan symbol. You use no name.”

“My name doesn’t matter,” Itachi said.

“Wrong,” Tobi replied. “It matters more than you think. Because I know every Uchiha. And I don’t remember you.”

Kaen leaned close to Itachi. “Should we—?”

“No,” Itachi interrupted, without taking his eyes off Tobi. “Back away. This one isn’t normal.”

Tobi chuckled softly. “Smart boy. You’re right, of course.”

He took one more step forward—and in that moment, space warped slightly around his body, chakra flexing like a coiled storm beneath the mask.

“I came here only to see you,” Tobi continued. “To know your face. To know your power.”

“And now that you’ve seen it?” Itachi asked, his voice as sharp as the blade in his hand.

Tobi tilted his head again. “Now… I wonder whether you’re a threat.”

The moment Tobi vanished into the space-time vortex, Itachi didn’t lower his guard. His senses were sharpened to a razor’s edge, and his hand gripped a kunai as if expecting the unexpected.

And the unexpected came.

Tobi reappeared behind him—without warning.

His fist lashed out, covered in dark chakra.

But Itachi was faster.

He twisted to the side, the punch grazing the hem of his cloak. He used the momentum to launch himself backward mid-air, hurling three kunai in a single, fluid motion toward Tobi’s center mass.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

They passed through him—like he was made of mist.

Itachi narrowed his eyes, landing softly on the moss-covered stone. Not a clone. Not a substitution. He phased.

Behind his mask, Tobi chuckled, voice like a ripple in dark water. “You're sharp. But not sharp enough.”

Itachi said nothing, but his mind raced. He had seen space-time techniques before—his father, Harry Pottaru, had mastered several. And he knew enough to recognize the pattern.

He’s not dodging. He’s slipping through dimensions.

“Fall back,” Itachi said sharply to Riku, Daiken, and Kaen, who had begun to surround the masked man.

“But—” Riku protested.

“That’s an order.”

The tone in Itachi’s voice left no room for discussion. His Sharingan spun to life, the familiar crimson glow casting eerie shadows across his face.

Tobi stood calmly, seemingly unimpressed.

“Finally showing me your real eyes,” he said. “I was beginning to think you were shy.”

Itachi ignored him. His chakra flared as he shifted into an offensive stance.

No more holding back.

There were no witnesses here. No allies who would recognize him as Itachi Pottaru of Konoha. It was just him and this masked threat.

Tobi moved again—another phase-step, faster than a blink. His body appeared at an angle, hand reaching for Itachi’s throat.

But Itachi was ready.

He’s solid a moment before he attacks. That’s the window.

He ducked, spun under the swipe, and slashed upward with a kunai wrapped in a chakra seal. The blade passed through Tobi harmlessly.

Tobi backstepped, grinning beneath his mask. “You’re observant. But it won’t help you.”

“You let people think you’re vulnerable,” Itachi said coldly. “You bait attacks, then phase just before contact. You like to watch people waste their strength.”

Tobi tilted his head, mocking surprise. “So you’ve figured out the rhythm.”

Itachi’s Sharingan spun faster.

Now let's see if I can break it.

The two warriors clashed again—kunai met fist, flame met swirling void. Itachi launched a Fire Style: Phoenix Flame Barrage, dozens of small fireballs sweeping in an erratic pattern. Tobi phased through most, but Itachi was already closing in—his real strike hidden within the storm of chakra.

Tobi phased again.

But this time, Itachi’s left palm touched the ground.

A pulse ran through the earth.

Fūinjutsu trigger set.

Tobi rematerialized a second later—smirking—until his body was suddenly surrounded by a ring of chakra seals glowing underfoot.

“What—?”

Itachi whispered, “Anti Teleportation Ward.”

For couple of seconds, Tobi’s space-time jutsu failed to activate.

And that was all Itachi needed.

In a flash, Itachi was behind him, his kunai charged with burning fire chakra, aiming straight for the masked man’s back.

Strike.

Impact.

The blade stabbed into his shoulder.

Tobi grunted—more from shock than pain—and stumbled forward as the jutsu seal crackled and vanished. He immediately phased again, reappearing several feet away, clutching his shoulder.

“…Interesting,” Tobi said, flexing his arm as the wound began to smoke and wood started coming out of his torso. “That actually hurt.”

Itachi said nothing, his Mangekyō Sharingan now glowing like twin crimson stars.

“You have quite the skill set,” Tobi continued. “I underestimated you. But next time, I won’t.”

He raised a hand—and space began to warp again.

“Consider this meeting a prelude,” he said. “There are storms coming, boy. And the eye of that storm… will crush the world.”

And with that, Tobi vanished into the spiraling vortex, leaving the forest quiet once more.

Itachi stood still, breathing slowly, scanning for residual chakra. None remained.

His comrades slowly approached, their faces tense.

“You okay?” Kaen asked.

Itachi nodded. “For now.”

“Who was that?” Daiken whispered.

Itachi looked at the empty space where Tobi had stood. “Someone dangerous. Someone who shouldn’t exist.”

Riku frowned. “Should we tell Mei?”

Itachi shook his head. “Not yet. I need to understand more first.”

But in his mind, one truth had taken root—and it burned deeper than any fire he could summon.

This war was only the beginning.


Night had fallen over the Kirigakure highlands, and the mist now lay thick across the forest, hiding the stars and dampening every sound. The crackle of fire barely whispered over the campsite where Itachi and his team rested. But sleep was far from his mind.

He sat apart from the others, still as stone, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames—though his thoughts burned elsewhere.

That man…

Tobi.

Or Uchiha Madara, if he were to be believed.

Itachi clenched his fingers slowly. There’s no way he’s Madara. The real Madara is long dead. This man is something else… something worse.

But more than the mask, more than the space-time jutsu, more than even the Sharingan—

It was the chakra signature Itachi had felt when his kunai had slashed the man’s shoulder.

He hadn’t said it aloud, not even to himself at first.

But he had felt it.

Wood Release.

The same chakra nature he possessed—one passed down through his father, Harry Pottaru. A rarity so profound it had only ever been recorded in the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju… and now, in Harry. In Itachi.

And yet, when he had landed his strike, the masked man’s injury had reacted—not with blood, but with bark.

Roots. Wood. Chakra structure identical to my own.

Itachi stared deeper into the fire.

That wasn’t a defense technique. It was spontaneous. Regenerative.

He remembered the way the wound writhed, the edges twisting into dark, pulsing bark—until the man's body reabsorbed it. Not an illusion. Not a clone. Real.

“Impossible…” Itachi murmured under his breath. “There shouldn’t be anyone else alive with that kind of chakra. Not unless…”

Not unless he was modified.

His thoughts spiraled faster now.

If this man—this so-called “Tobi”—was not only a space-time Mangekyō Sharingan user, but also possessed the ability of Wood Release… then his power and identity had to come from something unnatural. Some fusion. Some forbidden experiment.

It made everything more dangerous.

Because Itachi now realized: If this man recognizes Wood Release in return… he’ll know.

He’ll know that I’m not just a rogue Uchiha. He’ll start asking the right questions. He’ll trace it back to my father. And then to me.

Footsteps approached from behind.

Riku’s voice was low. “You’ve been staring into the fire for hours. Are you going to tell us what’s going on?”

Itachi didn’t turn. “What happened today… doesn’t leave this team.”

Riku sat down beside him. “Was that really Madara Uchiha?”

“No,” Itachi said quietly. “But he wants people to believe it.”

“And he’s Akatsuki,” Riku added.

Itachi nodded once.

They had heard of Akatsuki from Mei Terumi—a warning whispered in closed rooms. A secretive criminal organization made up of missing-nin from all five nations, classified as S-rank threats. Mei herself had only learned pieces of their network from informants and spies.

“Mei said they’re led by someone powerful,” Riku murmured. “But she never mentioned Uchiha.”

“She might not know,” Itachi said. “Or maybe… he was in the shadows until now.”

Riku frowned. “He was after you.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Itachi hesitated.

“Because I’m a threat. And maybe because… I remind him of someone.”

He didn’t say more.

He might suspect already. The name Indra, the Mangekyō, the Wood Release… If he sees me use it even once, I’m exposed.

And if he learns who I am, he’ll come for my family.

Itachi stood slowly. “Tomorrow, we move at first light. That loyalist commander won’t wait.”

Riku nodded. “You’ll tell Mei?”

“When the time is right,” Itachi said. “For now, no one else must know about today.”

As Riku walked away, Itachi remained by the fire, staring at his gloved hands.

I must never use Wood Release in front of him. Not again.

The flames reflected in his eyes as he whispered:

“Because if he knows who I am… then the war will no longer be for Kiri. It’ll be for something much darker.”