Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 46

The evening sun cast golden rays over the wide clearing behind the Pottaru Estate. The training ground buzzed with energy as usual—but today, it was different.

In the center of the arena, two young kunoichi stood poised with fierce determination. Midori Uchiha and Hinata Hyuga—the pride of their clans—were locked in a dance of fire and precision.

A gust of wind passed between them, stirring the dust and fallen leaves as if the world itself paused in anticipation.

Then they moved.

“Fire Style: Phoenix Fire Barrage!” Midori called out, leaping back as she formed hand seals. A dozen orbs of fire shot forward, spinning like comets, trailing heat and flame.

Hinata’s eyes snapped open—Byakugan activated.

Without a sound, she dropped into a low stance. Her hands flowed with chakra, and just before the flames hit, she spun.

“Eight Trigrams: Palm Rotation!”

A blue dome of chakra burst outward as Hinata spun gracefully on one foot. The flames slammed against it and dissipated with a crackling hiss.

Midori narrowed her eyes.

She’s faster today.

She launched another wave of fireballs—this time aimed higher, curving toward Hinata’s blind spots. But the Hyuga heiress was already moving.

Hinata flipped sideways, twisted midair, and landed like a feather. In her hand were two kunai, and without a beat she flung them with incredible speed.

Midori ducked. One sliced through a loose strand of her hair.

She smirked. “Getting bold, aren't you?”

“Just getting started,” Hinata replied, her tone calm but fierce.

At the edge of the field, Naruto Uzumaki stood near a shaded tree, arms raised, shouting with his usual unfiltered enthusiasm.

“Go, Hinata! Go, Midori! You’re both awesome!!”

Both girls heard him. And though they never showed it, both felt their hearts beat faster.

In truth, neither of them were just training.

They were proving something—to Naruto, and to themselves.

Midori kept her distance, circling slowly.

She knew better than to fight a Hyuga in close quarters. Her cousin had once told her: "If a Hyuga gets close, it's already over."

So she kept her hand signs flowing.

“Fire Style: Ember Bloom!”

A swirl of flames ignited around her feet and erupted outward in a pattern, aiming to cut off Hinata’s approach.

But Hinata didn’t flinch.

She pushed off the ground and raced through the gaps between the firebursts, chakra glowing in her palms. She zig-zagged—ducked, rolled, and finally closed the distance.

Midori's eyes widened. Too close.

Hinata struck.

“Eight Trigrams: Twin Lion Fists!”

Her hands exploded with chakra in the form of twin lion-shaped auras. Each blow was fast—precise.

Midori blocked the first, dodged the second—but the third grazed her arm, and she hissed in pain, chakra veins momentarily disrupted.

The Uchiha girl gritted her teeth and leapt back, skidding across the field, flames spiraling at her heels to create distance again.

They both panted now—sweat glistening on their brows, clothes scorched and dirtied from the intensity of the match.

On the sidelines, Harry Pottaru, Mikoto Uchiha, and Tsunade Senju sat beneath the shade of a flowering tree on a long wooden bench, a tray of tea and sweet biscuits placed neatly before them.

Tsunade sipped from her cup. “Impressive control. Midori’s chakra shaping has grown sharper.”

Mikoto nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “She’s relentless. But Hinata… she’s more confident now. She wouldn’t have pressed so hard last year.”

Harry leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed in amusement. “They’re not just fighting to grow stronger.”

Tsunade chuckled. “No. They’re both trying to catch Naruto’s eye.”

Mikoto let out a soft sigh, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Poor boy doesn’t even realize he’s the prize in this war.”

On the field, the clash continued.

Hinata’s gentle fists blazed with chakra, while Midori’s body spun and weaved through flames, their wills unbending. The blows, the bursts, the elegant ferocity—it wasn’t just sparring.

It was a battle of hearts.

And Naruto, bless his clueless soul, stood at the edge of it all, cheering with a grin that reached his ears, completely oblivious to the storm he was at the center of.


The clash of chakra and jutsu suddenly stopped—not with a final blow, but with the presence of something far heavier than any attack.

A quiet, composed voice cut through the clearing.

“Enough.”

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, stepped forward from behind a cluster of trees, his aged form wrapped in his ceremonial robes, the emblem of the Leaf gleaming on his brow.

His presence alone demanded silence.

Both Midori Uchiha and Hinata Hyuga immediately halted their fight, sweat clinging to their brows and their breaths ragged. But they stood tall, eyes snapping toward the source.

Hiruzen had watched long enough.

He had been hidden with a simple but efficient camouflage technique, concealed by chakra so subtly that even sharp eyes might have missed him—if those eyes weren’t the likes of Mikoto, Tsunade, and Harry Pottaru.

All three had sensed him long ago, yet not one mentioned it.

As he stepped into view, Naruto's loud voice rang out.

“Old man Hokage! What brings you here?!”

Hinata and Midori both turned and bowed respectfully, synchronizing with grace that surprised even Hiruzen.

The old Hokage smiled faintly at the gesture, then slowly made his way toward the bench where Harry, Tsunade, and Mikoto sat enjoying their afternoon tea.

As he reached them, Harry stood slightly and offered him a cup. “Tea, Lord Hokage?”

“Gladly,” Hiruzen replied, accepting the steaming cup with a slight nod.

Tsunade shifted over to make space, but her eyes narrowed just a bit as she studied her old master’s expression. Mikoto, elegant as ever, offered a polite smile, but nothing more.

Meanwhile, Naruto had bounded toward Hinata and Midori, grinning wildly.

“That was amazing!” he declared, arms behind his head. “You two were totally going all out!”

Midori smirked. “I could’ve won if it lasted a bit longer.”

Hinata didn’t respond, but her flushed cheeks and quick glance at Naruto said more than words.

Back at the table, the Hokage placed a small, dark-bound object onto the bench beside Harry.

A bingo book.

Harry glanced at it, one brow raised. “What is this about?”

Hiruzen took a long sip of his tea before replying. “This is the latest edition. Every six months, they publish a complete list of known rogue shinobi and active bounties across all nations. This one just arrived this morning.”

Harry slowly opened it, flipping past the first few pages.

There were names, ranks, known affiliations, bounties in various currencies—each one a death notice for those unlucky enough to be listed.

Then his fingers froze.

There was no mention of Itachi Pottaru.

Harry closed the book with a soft snap. “So. It’s not updated yet.”

Hiruzen’s face was calm. But there was weight behind his words.

“Or... Itachi is presumed dead,” he said softly. “Or his bounty was removed by force.”

Harry leaned back, sipping his own tea.

“I killed Danzo,” he said evenly. “He’s the one who placed the bounty. That kind of filth doesn’t deserve to speak Itachi’s name, let alone profit from it.”

A tense silence followed.

Mikoto said nothing.

Tsunade’s lips thinned, but she looked more at Hiruzen than at Harry.

The Hokage exhaled slowly. “I know. But I needed confirmation. With the bounty lifted, Itachi can return safely. No more threats from bounty hunters. That’s what matters now.”

Harry set the cup down.

“And what exactly do you want from him?”

Hiruzen’s gaze sharpened. “I want him back in the village. As a shinobi of the Leaf. He is under my command, Harry. He always has been.”

The words were spoken with calm authority.

But they were the wrong words.

Harry stood, his aura shifting, chakra pulsing with restrained power.

“Itachi is my son,” he said coldly. “He’s not a tool. He chose to protect this village—not because of you. Because he like it here. Just because he fought for your people doesn’t make him yours.”

The air grew thick with tension.

Even Hiruzen’s aged eyes narrowed slightly.

“You would challenge the authority of your Hokage?” he asked, more curious than angry.

Harry’s reply was sharp. “I’d challenge anyone who thinks they own my child.”

Before words could escalate, Tsunade rose.

She placed a firm hand on her sensei’s shoulder, her voice gentle but steady.

“Hokage-sama,” she said, “Itachi is safe. He's not wandering aimlessly—he’s training. He’ll return when he’s ready.”

Hiruzen looked at her, then slowly nodded.

He turned back to Harry. “Just remember, Harry... war is coming. And if he is ready—he will be needed.”

Harry didn’t answer. His gaze remained steady. Protective. Fierce.

The bingo book sat between them, its pages still open to blood and bounty.

But for now, Itachi Pottaru’s name was not among them.


The late evening light streamed into the Pottaru Estate’s main hall, where ancient scrolls lined the shelves and soft candlelight flickered in enchanted sconces. Harry stood alone in the center of the room, facing a tall, ornate mirror rimmed with glowing runes. It was one of the Magical Mirror Relays—an invention born from the merging of magic and chakra, allowing him to communicate across vast distances with clarity and privacy.

He placed his hand gently on the edge of the mirror.

“Itachi Pottaru.”

The glass shimmered, rippling like water, and slowly, the fog cleared. A face appeared.

Itachi.

But the moment Harry saw him, he felt a twist in his heart.

Itachi looked worn. His eyes were shadowed, his hair slightly unkempt, and his usually calm composure was visibly shaken. He didn’t even greet his father—just stared at him in silence for a moment before speaking in a low, hoarse voice.

“Father…”

“Itachi,” Harry said softly, “it’s been a week. I was starting to worry.”

Itachi gave a slow nod, then looked down, as if ashamed. “I… didn’t have the strength to call.”

“What happened?” Harry asked gently.

There was a long pause.

Then Itachi looked up, and Harry saw it—grief etched deep into his eyes.

“Mito is dead.”

Harry’s breath caught.

Itachi’s voice cracked. “She saved me. Threw herself into an attack that was meant to end me. I didn’t see it coming. I let my guard down. She… she died because of me.”

Harry’s chest tightened. “You know that’s not true.”

But Itachi continued, his words like blades.

“I lost control after that. My Sharingan… it changed. Evolved into Mangekyō Sharingan. I felt something burn in my eyes. And then I said a word—‘Amaterasu.’ I’d never even learned it. But when I spoke it… the battlefield went up in black flames.”

He paused, trembling slightly.

“I killed hundreds, Father. I burned them alive. Some of them were enemies, yes. But many… many were just following orders. They were shinobi like me. Some of them might have had wives, children. They weren’t monsters. And I… I didn’t stop.”

Tears welled in his eyes, but what dripped down was blood.

“I didn’t stop.”

Harry leaned closer to the mirror, his voice steady but filled with warmth.

“Itachi… you’re not a killer without conscience. You’re a soldier who lost a friend—a sister in all but blood. You were broken in that moment. And what you did was out of pain, not cruelty.”

“But that doesn’t undo what I’ve done,” Itachi whispered.

“No,” Harry said, “it doesn’t. But guilt means your heart is still whole. It means Mito didn’t die in vain.”

Itachi looked away, blinking back another tear of blood. “The others are still with me. Riku, Daiken, Kaen… they’re shaken. But we’re pushing forward. Mei Terumi’s resistance is still holding.”

Harry nodded, then let out a breath. “I also wanted to tell you… the bounty on your head is gone.”

Itachi looked up sharply.

“What?”

“It’s true,” Harry said. “Since I killed Danzo, he can't update the contract. And the bounty was removed. The Hokage confirmed it. He visited the estate today.”

Itachi’s expression grew unreadable. “And what does he want?”

“He wants you back in Konoha. Back in uniform. Back under his command.”

There was a long silence.

“I can’t leave now,” Itachi finally said. “Not when the rebellion is on a knife’s edge. I gave Mei my word. I’ve seen the suffering here, Father. I can’t walk away from it.”

“I told him that,” Harry replied. “Told him you were still on a training trip. But he won’t wait forever. He said you’re still a soldier of the Leaf.”

“I’m a shinobi of Konoha ” Itachi said fiercely. “And I’ll come home. But not yet.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I gave you my word, and I will give you a deadline. Three months. After that, you must return. If you don’t… you’ll be marked a missing-nin.”

Itachi closed his eyes, letting the weight of that truth sink in.

“I understand.”

Harry’s voice softened. “Your mother misses you. So does Naruto. Naruto’s been getting stronger—training every day. And Hinata and Midori, well… they’ve been fighting like lions just to get his attention.”

Itachi’s lips quirked, the ghost of a smile breaking through the pain. “Some things never change.”

Harry smiled too, finally. “You’re not alone, Itachi. You never were. And when this is over, come home.”

Itachi nodded, solemn and grateful. “I will. For Mito. And for all of you.”

As the mirror dimmed, the connection fading, Harry stood in silence for a while—watching his son’s image vanish.

He whispered, “Come back in one piece, Itachi.”

The room went still again.

But Harry knew—across the sea, a storm was still raging.