Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 29

The air inside the bunker was thick with tension, the sterile scent of chemicals mingling with the iron tang of blood. Rows of glass chambers lined the walls, each filled with grotesque figures—failed experiments, twisted remnants of human life, their bodies warped beyond recognition. The soft hum of machinery echoed through the underground facility, the rhythmic beeping of monitors the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

Until they arrived.

With a crack like shattering glass, Harry and Itachi appeared out of thin air, the teleportation sigils fading beneath their feet.

The sudden arrival sent a ripple of shock through the bunker.

For a single moment, everyone froze.

Danzo Shimura and Orochimaru had been deep in discussion, their tones low and conspiratorial as they stood over a large, bloodstained table covered in research notes and dissected tissue samples. The subject?

Clone mutation.

And then—just like that—their world shattered.

Danzo’s one remaining eye widened in disbelief.

"Impossible!" he hissed, stepping back, his cane tightening under his grip. "How did you—"

Orochimaru, however, was far less perturbed. The serpentine man merely tilted his head, golden slit-pupils gleaming with curiosity. His lips stretched into a slow, knowing smirk.

"Ah… how unexpected." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "Pottaru-san… and young Itachi-kun. What a delightful surprise."

Danzo’s expression twisted into something dark, his eye darting between the two intruders, his mind racing.

"Orochimaru!" he barked, stepping closer to his former ally. "Do not underestimate them. The boy alone is strong enough to take down an entire battalion. And the father—"

Danzo didn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t have to.

Everyone in the room could feel it.

The sheer presence of Harry Potaru was unlike anything else. He did not radiate chakra like a shinobi. He did not move like a warrior preparing for battle.

Yet, he sat at the center of the storm like a god observing his creation.

With a single wave of his hand, the very floor beneath him trembled, shifting and reshaping itself into an elaborate, throne-like structure, black stone rising from the ground as if the earth itself bent to his will.

He lowered himself into his throne, leaning back with the air of a man utterly unbothered. His emerald-green eyes glowed, reflecting the dim light of the bunker.

"I believe," Harry said in a lazy drawl, "that this is Itachi’s fight."

He gestured dismissively.

"You may begin."

Danzo snapped his fingers, and the walls erupted with motion.

Root agents flooded the room, their movements like a well-oiled machine. Silent, precise, merciless. These were Danzo’s elite, trained from childhood to be emotionless weapons of destruction. They moved as one entity, blades gleaming, their chakra signatures almost undetectable.

Itachi exhaled slowly.

His Sharingan spun to life, the three tomoe swirling violently in his eyes.

"I see," he murmured. "This will be a test, then."

And then he moved.

To the untrained eye, Itachi disappeared.

But to those who could follow, it was a sight unlike any other.

Itachi moved like a shadow, his form seamlessly weaving between attacks, his kunai meeting steel with deadly precision.

A Root agent lunged—his blade aimed for Itachi’s throat—only for his own shadow to betray him, twisting unnaturally as it yanked him backward.

Genjutsu.

Another agent charged, but the moment he blinked—Itachi was gone.

A single slash.

Blood sprayed.

The agent crumpled, his chakra network severed before he even hit the ground.

Three more came at once.

Itachi’s hand signs blurred, faster than any normal shinobi could track.

"Wood Release: Binding Roots."

Thick vines erupted from the floor, ensnaring the operatives mid-motion, their bodies suspended in a tangle of living wood. They struggled, but the more they fought, the tighter the vines constricted, crushing their limbs with a sickening crack.

Itachi didn’t even turn to look at them.

"Oh my," Orochimaru purred, watching with undisguised interest. "Wood Release and Sharingan… How magnificent."

Harry chuckled from his throne, resting his chin against his knuckles.

"He’s a natural, isn’t he?"

Orochimaru’s eyes narrowed, curiosity turning to hunger.

"I wonder," he mused, "how much more potential he has. Perhaps if I dissected—"

Harry’s gaze flicked to him.

And Orochimaru flinched.

Just for a fraction of a second.

A rare moment where fear slipped past the Sannin’s carefully crafted mask.

Harry smiled, slow and dangerous.

"You won’t get the chance."

Orochimaru held his gaze for a beat longer before chuckling softly, licking his lips. "Pity."

The battle was almost over.

Itachi stood amidst the carnage, his robes splattered with blood, but his breathing steady.

Danzo had retreated to the back of the bunker, watching his carefully trained agents fall like insects.

"Useless," he spat, gripping his cane.

The air inside the underground bunker was thick with tension, the scent of damp stone mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood. It was a cold, dark place, carved deep into the earth, with no exits, no tunnels—no way out.

Not unless Harry Potter allowed it.

Danzo and Orochimaru stood at opposite ends of the chamber, their expressions starkly different.

Danzo was breathing hard, his only remaining hand clenched into a tight fist, his weathered face creased in fury and disbelief.

Orochimaru, on the other hand, smirked, his golden slit-pupils gleaming in the dim light. "How fascinating," he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. "To be taken so easily… I expected more of myself."

Harry leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, watching them like a predator indulging his prey.

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Orochimaru," he said lazily. "If I really wanted you, I wouldn’t have let you keep your tongue."

Orochimaru chuckled, but there was a flicker of wariness in his gaze.

Danzo, however, was less entertained. His one good eye burned with fury as he glared at Harry and Itachi.

"You—" Danzo’s voice was hoarse, venomous. "How dare you meddle in the affairs of Konoha, outsider?"

Itachi’s Sharingan spun to life, and the air grew heavier.

"You went after my brother," Itachi said coldly, stepping forward. "That was your mistake."

Harry’s expression darkened as well.

"You should’ve left my sons alone, Danzo." His voice was dangerously soft. "I could’ve ignored all your other crimes. But you made it personal."

Danzo gritted his teeth. He knew he was at a disadvantage. He had no escape routes, no backup, and his Izanagi was useless now—Harry had sealed this place so completely that not even the Uchiha’s forbidden technique could rewrite reality here.

But he was still Danzo Shimura—one of Konoha’s most ruthless war strategists.

If he was going to die, he would take someone with him.

"You think I fear death?" Danzo spat. "I am prepared to sacrifice myself for Konoha, as I always have. But you—" his gaze locked onto Itachi "—you are a disgrace, boy. You and that demon child you call a brother."

Itachi’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him did.

It shuddered with silent pressure.

"Talk all you want," Itachi said, voice quiet but unyielding. "It won’t change the outcome."

Danzo moved first, his chakra flaring violently.

"Wind Release: Vacuum Great Sphere!"

A massive compressed ball of wind shot forward, howling like a hurricane, sharp enough to shred steel.

Itachi barely shifted, his hands forming a single seal.

"Wood Release: Great Forest Wall."

Massive wooden tendrils burst from the ground, intercepting the attack, splintering into sharp, spear-like branches that lunged straight for Danzo.

But Danzo was already moving, weaving through the attack with decades of battle experience guiding him.

He landed on the far side of the chamber, his remaining hand moving rapidly through seals.

"Wind Release: Vacuum Blades!"

Blades of razor-sharp air erupted around him, slicing through the battlefield, aiming directly for Itachi’s vitals.

Itachi’s eyes flashed.

"Too slow."

With a single step, he vanished—only to reappear behind Danzo in an instant.

A single kunai met Danzo’s back, cutting deep.

Danzo coughed, blood dripping from his lips. "Izanagi—"

Nothing happened.

His eye didn’t close. His body didn’t reset.

He staggered forward, realization dawning in horror.

"You—"

"Your Izanagi won’t work here," Harry cut in casually, watching from his place against the wall. "You’re inside my domain, Danzo. Your tricks won’t save you this time."

Danzo’s expression twisted in rage.

"You think I need tricks to kill you?!"

With a final roar, he charged at Itachi, wind chakra coating his only arm like a blade.

Itachi didn’t flinch.

In a blur of movement, his blade flashed once—and Danzo’s world tilted.

His vision spun.

His body felt strangely light.

And then—he saw himself.

His own headless body slumping to the ground.

The last thing Danzo Shimura ever saw was Itachi’s expressionless gaze, blood dripping from his sword.

Silence filled the chamber.

Orochimaru let out a low whistle, unfazed by the brutal execution. "Impressive," he mused. "Cold. Efficient. Just as I’d expect from the son of Mikoto."

Harry tilted his head, fixing Orochimaru with an unreadable stare.

"You’re next," he said simply.

Orochimaru merely grinned, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

"Oh, Harry," he sighed dramatically. "As much as I’d love to test my abilities against you… I have other matters to attend to."

Before Harry could react, Orochimaru’s body melted into white serpents, writhing away at inhuman speed.

"Summoning Jutsu!"

The chamber rumbled, a dark portal opening beneath Orochimaru’s feet.

With a last, taunting smirk, he vanished—retreating to the Summoning Realm before Harry could interfere.

Itachi exhaled, flicking the blood from his sword before sheathing it.

"Should we go after him?"

Harry shook his head.

"Orochimaru was never my target," he said. "And if he ever crosses me again, I’ll deal with him personally."

He turned his gaze back to Danzo’s lifeless corpse, his expression unreadable.

"But this one… is finally finished."

The air between father and son was thick with unsaid words, the weight of recent events pressing on them both. Danzo was dead. Orochimaru had escaped. And now, the future stood before them, uncertain yet full of possibilities.

Harry turned to Itachi, observing his son with a critical eye. There was something different about him now—something sharper, colder, more resolute.

"Now what?" Itachi asked, breaking the silence first.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "That depends," he said smoothly. "What do you want to do?"

Itachi hesitated for only a moment before answering.

"Since I am not in active duty," he began, his voice calm but firm, "I think I should stay here and help the rebellion. I don’t want this war to drag on longer than necessary. The more time passes, the more innocent bloodline clans will be wiped out."

Harry studied his son’s expression, searching for any sign of doubt. There was none.

"If that is your wish," Harry said after a pause, "then I won’t stop you. But know this—" he met Itachi’s gaze, his voice taking on a hard edge, "if it is found out that a Konoha shinobi has been interfering in another country's politics, you’ll be labeled a missing-nin. You understand what that means?"

Itachi nodded immediately.

"I do."

"Then you can’t use your Sharingan or Wood Release," Harry continued. "Not even once. If you fight for the rebellion, you do it as a mercenary, not a Konoha shinobi. No Konoha techniques, no Konoha affiliations. You are just an unknown."

Itachi took in his father’s words carefully, weighing them. He knew Harry was right—Konoha was strict about its shinobi participating in foreign wars. If it was discovered that an active Konoha ninja had interfered, the consequences would be severe.

"Understood," Itachi said, his resolve firm.

Harry studied him for another moment before nodding in approval. "Then stay safe."

Itachi didn’t need to hear it twice.

Harry turned away, glancing down at the severed head of Danzo Shimura that rested at his feet. The lifeless expression, the blood pooling beneath it—it was an unceremonious end for a man who had once considered himself the true protector of Konoha.

Itachi raised an eyebrow as he watched his father pick up the severed head.

"What are you doing with that?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and mild disgust.

Harry smirked, holding the head up by its white hair.

"Danzo had the highest bounty in Konoha," he said simply. "Why waste it?"

Itachi blinked. Then, for the first time in weeks, he actually laughed.

"That’s… practical."

Harry gave him a wink. "Of course. Why let it go to waste?"

Before Itachi could respond, Harry raised his hand and disappeared in a flicker of magic—teleporting away, leaving his son alone in the depths of Kirigakure.