"To fight for the sake of protecting this nation?"
There was confusion in Uchiha Itachi's eyes.
He had no deep concept of Konoha Village, let alone the Land of Fire.
After all, since his birth, his entire world had consisted only of his home and the training grounds.
And now, this woman—Artoria Pendragon, the so-called King of Knights—was suddenly telling him that he was a protector of the Land of Fire.
He… wasn't ready for that.
---
Before he could dwell further on the meaning of her words, Artoria's voice broke his thoughts.
"It seems… someone is approaching. And not just one or two."
Her expression hardened as she turned toward a distant section of the forest.
The dignified aura she had carried moments ago sharpened into cold vigilance.
"Are they enemies?" Itachi asked silently in his mind, his mental voice instinctively lowering to a whisper.
Artoria shook her head regretfully. "As a spirit, I cannot draw upon my mana here. I'll have to wait until they're close enough before I can tell."
Itachi steadied his breathing. "I see…"
---
Meanwhile, deeper within the forest—
"Are these Uchiha monsters or what?"
"We outnumbered them three to one, and yet they tore right through our formation!"
"Calm down! The Uchiha are known throughout the ninja world for having the most powerful Kekkei Genkai. Their reputation isn't an exaggeration."
Four Iwagakure shinobi, clad in dark red flak jackets, moved swiftly through the dense trees.
The leader—a jonin—carried an unconscious young Uchiha slung over his shoulder, the clan crest stitched clearly on the boy's uniform.
Even from a distance, Artoria, despite her incorporeal form, recognized it immediately.
"I can't sense chakra," she explained softly, "but judging by their attire and headbands, I'd estimate one jonin and three chunin."
Her tone darkened. "They've captured one of your clansmen. From their words, they intend to study the Sharingan."
Having accessed Itachi's memories, Artoria understood well what that meant.
The Sharingan, the Uchiha's bloodline limit—a power coveted by outsiders for its incredible potential—was often seen as a treasure worth killing for.
Itachi, curled up in silence within the tree hollow, remained calm.
"If you can," he whispered in thought, "track the direction they're heading. When my father and the others arrive, we can pursue them accurately."
"From what they said, the battle seems to be turning in our favor."
Though he could not see them, Itachi could hear their hushed conversation, catching fragments of strategy through the quiet forest air.
As for the thought of rescue—it never even arose.
He was five years old.
He had only just learned to refine chakra and perform basic control exercises.
Facing four trained shinobi was suicide.
—
"Damn it! We regrouped during their half-day rest and still couldn't wipe them out?"
"Be grateful we managed to capture one alive! That's already something."
"If we bring this prisoner back safely, do you think Lord Kitsuchi will forgive our failure?"
Their voices grew fainter as they moved farther away.
But their words… struck something in Itachi's heart.
His small body trembled involuntarily.
Swish!
The leading jonin suddenly halted.
He leapt into the shadow of a tall tree, eyes narrowing.
Leaning against the trunk, he scanned the dark forest, his gaze darting between the gaps in the branches.
Under the faint moonlight, he saw nothing but towering trees, mossy rocks, and patches of overgrown weeds.
No sign of life.
"Did you hear something?"
From behind another tree, a chunin gestured silently, his hand forming quick signals.
The other two had already drawn their kunai, each hiding in a separate position, waiting for the jonin's signal.
Still, confusion flickered in their eyes.
"I could've sworn… I heard breathing," the jonin murmured, his voice barely audible.
Using hand signs to communicate, he responded tersely,
"We should've brought a sensor-type with us."
He glanced at the unconscious Uchiha on his shoulder, then handed the boy off to another ninja.
"Stay here. I'll go check."
Caution dictated his every move.
Even without seeing anything unusual, a jonin trusted his instincts above all else.
"They've noticed you," Artoria said quietly.
Her gaze fixed on the tree hollow where Itachi hid, her expression calm but questioning.
"What will you do?"
She didn't understand.
This child—this boy of five—was unnervingly composed.
His breathing and heartbeat were steady, controlled, unshaken even in mortal danger.
And yet, for a moment, she had heard his breath falter—rough, uneven.
Why?
"Half a day…"
Itachi's mind reeled as he realized his mistake.
In that brief instant of panic, his breath had given him away.
The forest had gone silent—no footsteps, no whispers.
They had noticed him.
But his thoughts weren't on being discovered.
They were on that one phrase—
"half a day."
"They said they took advantage of our half-day rest to gather forces three times our size…"
"And that rest… was because I asked for it—after I woke up."
"In other words… this ambush happened because of me."
The weight of that realization struck him like a blade.
For the first time in his life, Itachi felt heavy.
Not the physical weight of exhaustion—but guilt.
Since his earliest memories, his father had trained him to survive, to think, to act like a shinobi.
He had witnessed death before, countless times.
But never had it felt this personal.
If he alone had to die, it would have been fine.
His life and death were his own burden to bear.
But because of him—others had died.
He could see it vividly—
his father cutting through the chaos to pull him from the ambush,
the corpses of his clansmen scattered across the forest floor,
the clash of metal, the sound of explosions,
the dull thud of kunai piercing flesh,
the sickening crack of bone.
Blood splattered across his skin like rain.
Their lives spilled out in red.
Their sacrifice—his fault.
—
"Enough!"
Artoria's cold, commanding voice cut through his thoughts like a blade.
"Now is not the time to lose yourself in guilt," she snapped.
"Shouldn't you be thinking about how to survive this situation instead?"
"…I'll be fine."
Her words hung in the air for only a heartbeat before his calm, emotionless thought answered her.
"The Sharingan can perceive movement with incredible precision. Those men can't possibly escape unnoticed after abducting a clansman. Someone from our side will be here soon."
"They've stopped moving. Which means… the next moment—"
Fwip!
A sharp whistle split the night air.
Thunk!
The sound of impact followed, muffled by bark.
Artoria turned slightly, her emerald eyes glinting faintly.
"You're right," she said coolly. "Your clansmen have arrived."