Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 37

Rain tapped steadily against the ruined stone walls of the old watchtower where Itachi and his team had made camp. The scent of damp moss filled the air, mingling with the soft smoke rising from the small fire crackling in their midst. It was a dreary evening, quiet but not idle. Every pair of eyes around the fire was focused on a single piece of parchment, rolled open across a flat stone.

The crude map sketched onto the scroll showed the jagged outline of Kirigakure’s central archipelago—and just off the southern coast, circled in red ink, was the island known to every shinobi in the Land of Water: Kazan Island. More commonly whispered as the Island of No Return.

Itachi tapped his gloved finger against the red circle.

"That’s where they’re all being held," he said flatly. "Every bloodline user they didn't want to kill. Children, civilians, shinobi—they’re all on that island."

Juro grunted, his arms crossed. "No surprise. Everyone in Kiri knows what that place is. You get taken there, you’re gone for good."

Kira added, "They say it's cursed. The prison built by the Uzumaki themselves—sealed so tightly no chakra can be used inside. No jutsu. No escape. Even the guards patrol without chakra enhancements."

A younger shinobi near the fire swallowed hard. "Why not just kill them outright? Why lock them away like that?"

Itachi’s eyes, calm and unreadable, met his. "Control. The Mist wants the world to think they’ve exterminated the bloodlines. But they’re afraid—afraid they might still be useful. Or dangerous. They keep them there so they can choose their fate later."

Juro clenched his jaw. "And now we know the truth. What do we do with it?"

Itachi looked down at the map again, his mind already working through a dozen possibilities. "We don’t rush in. This isn’t some hidden bunker or patrol route we can ambush. That island is surrounded by steep cliffs and constant currents. Even if we could reach it, the moment we step on that shore, our chakra becomes useless."

Kira raised an eyebrow. "Then what’s the plan? If chakra’s sealed, none of us can fight."

Itachi rolled up the scroll slowly. "We find a way to circumvent the seal. We’ll study the sealing methods, locate possible breaches—any weaknesses in the old Uzumaki arrays. I may be able to break the island’s silence long enough to get in and out."

The others listened in thoughtful silence as rain pattered on the stones overhead.

Juro finally spoke. "We’ll need time. Supplies. Knowledge. And no mistakes."

Itachi nodded. "I know." Then he glanced up at the night sky, as if seeing through the ceiling and clouds. "The Mist wants the world to believe those people are forgotten. But I won't forget them. And I won’t leave them behind."

No one questioned him. Not anymore.

And in the stillness of the night, beside the flickering fire and the sound of distant thunder, the resolve of seven warriors solidified into something colder—and far more dangerous—than vengeance.

It was purpose.


They were all gathered once again, seated in a tight circle, when the youngest among them—Haru, a quiet shinobi with spiky brown hair and a sharp mind—broke the silence with a thoughtful question.

“If chakra can’t be used on the island… can magic?” Haru asked hesitantly, glancing toward Itachi.

Itachi looked up from the map he had been studying, his eyes sharpening with interest.

“What did you say?”

Haru shifted, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. “I mean… the chakra-sealing wards. They’re specifically designed to disrupt chakra flow, right? But can't we use the portkeys that we used to move the civilians. That’s… magic, isn’t it?”

A moment of stunned silence followed.

Kira leaned forward, her mouth slightly open. “He’s right. We didn’t even consider that.”

Juro let out a slow breath and scratched at his beard. “Because we’re trained to think in chakra. In jutsu. We forget how different your father’s power is.”

Itachi slowly sat back against the crumbling wall, his eyes narrowing in thought. He could see it now—the threads of a plan forming in his mind. The reason the portkeys worked outside the prison had been obvious. But now…

“No sealing array in the world, even Uzumaki, is crafted to disrupt something it doesn’t understand,” he murmured. “Magic isn’t chakra. It doesn’t follow the same rules. Which means...”

“It might work inside the prison,” Kira finished.

“Exactly.”

The group stirred, hope flickering in their expressions.

“Then we go in with portkeys,” Juro said, standing. “We sneak in, grab as many as we can, and teleport out.”

Itachi raised a hand, calming him. “Not yet. If we send in an armed team, they’ll expect an extraction. We don't have enough men. We need someone to get inside without suspicion.”

He looked around the circle.

“Two of us will allow themselves to be captured. Once inside, they’ll assess the prison layout and gather the captives in preparation. We’ll use the portkeys when the time is right, we’ll activate them and escape with the prisoners.”

“And how do we get them the portkeys?” Kira asked.

“I’ll send for more,” Itachi said, rising to his feet and walking toward his gear. He retrieved a silver mirror, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and held it flat. With a whisper of incantation and a pulse of chakra, the surface rippled like water.

Within moments, Harry Potter’s image flickered into view, his eyes immediately focused and alert.

“Itachi,” his father said. “You’re well?”

“I’m fine, Father. But we have a plan that requires more of your help.” He explained the idea, detailing their discovery about the island and the possibility of using magic in a space where chakra could not exist.


The midday sun was hidden behind a thick veil of gray clouds, casting a soft, diffused light through the cracks in the ancient watchtower walls. The mist that always seemed to linger over Kirigakure's central island hung low and heavy, muting the sounds of the village beyond the forested ridge. Inside the tower, Itachi and his team were quietly gathered around their small fire when the silence was broken by a soft hoot.

Heads turned upward.

A blur of white dropped gracefully through a shattered window, wings extended in regal silence before landing softly on a boulder beside the fire. The snowy owl blinked slowly, as if unimpressed by their expressions of awe. Its feathers, a pure shade of white, glistened faintly in the dim light.

“Hedwig,” Itachi said softly, walking toward her.

The owl stretched her leg outward. A sealed package was securely tied just above her talon. Itachi untied it carefully and stroked the owl’s head, earning a soft, satisfied hoot.

The others watched as Itachi brought the package to the center. The seal bore a familiar magical symbol—his father’s unique rune of flame encircling a feather. With a simple tap of chakra, the seal broke and the wrapping unfolded.

Everyone leaned closer.

Inside were not ropes, as they had expected. Instead, there were two sets of worn, dirt-stained clothing—threadbare shirts and trousers, patched and frayed at the edges.

“Clothes?” Haru asked, confused.

A small envelope slid out between the folds. Itachi picked it up, opened it, and read aloud:

> “Itachi, Your plan is solid, but there’s one flaw you may have overlooked. The prison guards will be thorough. They will inspect every inch of the captives, especially the ones suspected to have bloodline limits. Smuggling ropes, even hidden, will not work.

So I’ve taken the liberty of turning these garments into portkeys. Every thread is enchanted. Once inside the prison, the wearers can cut the fabric into strips and distribute them among their cellmates. The activation word remains the same: Phoenix. If timed right, it doesn’t matter where they are. Everyone wearing or holding a piece of the clothing will be transported instantly.

Use them well. And be careful. — Father.”


There was a pause as the words settled in.

Juro let out a low whistle. “Now that… is clever.”

“We were so focused on hiding something,” Kira said thoughtfully, “we forgot the best hiding place is sometimes the one in plain sight.”

Itachi nodded slowly, eyes on the bundle of clothes. “This will make a difference. We don’t need to sneak anything through. It’ll already be with them.”

“And even if they’re in separate cells,” Haru said, catching on, “they can all escape at the same time. Brilliant.”

There was a rare flicker of pride in Itachi’s expression. “My father never underestimates a detail.”

The group sat in silence for a moment longer, until Juro leaned back and stretched with a groan. “Well, then… time to decide who gets to take a nice little trip to hell island.”

Itachi stood. “Not me,” he said firmly. “I can’t go. I don’t look or sound like someone from the Land of Water. They’ll suspect immediately. They’re only capturing bloodline users, and I am not a bloodline user.”

“You’re too valuable here anyway,” Juro added. “We need you in command.”

Kira exhaled, exchanging a glance with Juro.

“We’ll go,” she said. “We’re older, less threatening. If they want to toss us in and forget about us, all the better.”

“And we’ve got the experience to move carefully once inside,” Juro added. “We’ll find the captives. Organize. Divide the clothes. And wait for the signal.”

Itachi gave them both a long look. “You know what you’re risking.”

Juro smirked. “That’s nothing new.”

Kira’s eyes were calm. “We’ve followed you this far, Itachi. We trust you.”

Itachi bent down and picked up the bundle, handing it over carefully. “Then wear these. When the time comes, speak the word. Phoenix. I’ll be watching from the outside.”

Haru stepped forward, his expression more serious than usual. “We’ll cover the extraction. If anything goes wrong, we’ll buy you time.”

Kira smiled faintly. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

Itachi nodded once more, then turned to look at Hedwig, who had been preening on the boulder.

“Thank you,” he said softly to the owl.

Hedwig gave a hoot and leapt silently into the air, disappearing into the foggy sky.


Four days without food changes a person.

For Kira, the gnawing emptiness in her belly was nothing new. She’d survived siege warfare before—when enemy nations choked the roads and left villages to rot in silence. But doing it on purpose, to mimic the slow, weary collapse of a fugitive, required a different kind of discipline. Every breath felt heavier. Her limbs ached more with each passing hour. Her body burned calories she didn’t have. And still, she endured.

Beside her, Juro sat on a jagged stone ledge overlooking the fog-choked coast. His usually sharp eyes were sunken, ringed by dark circles. He hadn’t spoken much these last few days—his energy was better spent simply surviving the hunger. They drank only water from the freshwater stream that trickled down from the mountain. No herbs. No stimulants. No chakra restoration pills.

They had to look like people who had been running, hiding, starving.

Because that’s what the escaped captives should look like. And if Kira and Juro were going to be captured, they needed to sell that illusion.

On the morning of the fifth day, Kira’s hands trembled as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. Her reflection in the water showed a pale, ragged woman—nothing like the proud shinobi who once held her ground against three enemy jonin in the war.

Perfect.

“It’s time,” he said hoarsely.

Kira nodded.

They walked toward the shore where the cliffs curved into a half-moon bay. Mist clung to the water’s edge, and the waves crashed softly, rhythmically, as if indifferent to the plans unfolding along its edge.

There was a Kirigakure patrol reported near the eastern reef. They would be watching—guarding against smugglers and rebels. Kira and Juro had scouted them once already. Five shinobi, all armed, all alert.

They wouldn’t fall for a staged surrender. No, Kira and Juro needed to be caught.

And the best bait in the Land of Water was power.

Kira knelt beside the water, her hands forming slow, deliberate seals. Her fingers were stiff and sluggish from the lack of food, but she forced them through the motions. With a final hand sign, she sent chakra pulsing through the waves.

A shadow moved beneath the surface.

A moment later, a massive silver-fin fish burst out of the water with a flash of its tail. It writhed on the sand, caught by a binding of chakra threads.

A flash of light. A burst of chakra.

It would have been seen.

And indeed, it was.

A few moments passed before Kira felt it—that tingle on her skin, the quiet pressure of chakra signatures approaching fast.

“They’re coming,” she said quietly.

Juro pulled himself upright and staggered toward her, drawing his short sword.

Five silhouettes emerged through the mist, leaping from the treeline with weapons drawn. Their blue flak vests were unmistakable.

“Hold it right there!” the leader barked. “Hands where we can see them!”

Kira turned slowly, her legs shaking, sword in hand. She did not raise it. She wanted them to see how close to collapse she already was.

“We don’t want trouble,” Juro rasped, his voice raw with forced exhaustion.

“Too bad,” the Kirigakure shinobi snapped, already forming seals.

And then it began.

A brief, brutal scuffle.

Kira ducked low as a kunai passed her ear, slashing toward one shinobi’s legs to unbalance him. Juro blocked two blows with his blade before feigning a stumble. Blood splattered from the shallow cut on his arm—a wound from the previous night now torn open again.

They fought like people with nothing left.

Like fugitives.

Kira took a knee as her sword clattered from her hand. She gasped as a shinobi’s knee slammed into her side and drove her to the dirt.

Juro was already face-down, one of the patrol kneeling on his back.

The Kirigakure team didn’t even speak for a moment. They just stood there, panting, their weapons raised as if waiting for another ambush. When none came, their leader finally gave the signal.

“Bind them.”

Chakra suppression tags were slapped on both of them, and their wrists were tied behind their backs. Kira winced as the rope dug into her already sore arms, but she kept her face slack, her gaze unfocused.

One of the guards picked up the fish and scoffed.

“They used chakra to catch a fish,” he muttered.

“Rebels,” another replied. “Probably thought they’d get lucky with a patrol.”

The leader looked over them both, his eyes narrowing.

“Take them to the eastern holding station. Let command decide what to do with them.”

As Kira and Juro were dragged to their feet, neither resisted. They allowed themselves to be marched toward the rising sun, the mist swallowing their trail behind them.

They had taken their first step into hell.

And soon… they would be ready to open the gates.