Itachi's eyes raked over Makoto like a worried mom scanning for bruises. Moonlight leaked through the window, just enough to clock the kid's arms, legs, chest rising and falling steady as a metronome. Only then did the knot in his gut loosen a hair.
Deep in those perpetually stressed-out eyes, a flicker of relief ghosted by.
The two drop-dead gorgeous Cloud kunoichi curled up on the bed? Invisible. Itachi straight-up ghosted them.
Shisui, posted outside the door, picked up zero extra guard signatures—just the girls "babysitting" Makoto up close and personal. He exhaled a fraction.
Still, he stayed coiled like a spring, fingers brushing his sword hilt, ready to explode like a panther on Adderall.
Shisui buzzed a low-frequency signal—barely louder than a mosquito—into the room: all clear.
But that tiny ripple hit the water like a brick.
On the bed, Samui and Mabui snapped awake in perfect sync. Elite ninja instincts kept one foot in the waking world even during REM.
Sleepy eyes, hands already snaking for the tanto and kunai stashed bedside.
Before their vision cleared, before the brain fog lifted—BAM—ghost in the room.
Crimson three-tomoe Sharingan spun like hellfire in the dark, swallowing their entire field of view.
Ice-cold, bulldozer-level genjutsu slammed into their skulls, severing brain-to-body Wi-Fi. Limbs locked. Half-drawn blades clattered onto the mattress with twin thuds.
Eyes glazed over—puppets with the strings cut. Done.
Samui and Mabui were top-tier for their age in Cloud, but still special jonin. Shisui? Peak elite jonin a year ago, half-step from Kage. Pop the Mangekyō and boom—full Kage.
Their resistance folded like wet paper.
Shisui whipped out his tanto, moonlight glinting off the edge—ready to silence them permanently.
Makoto started to move. Itachi hissed, "Makoto, go!"
He clocked the setup: the girls weren't hostile. Room was cozy, Makoto looked pampered. No need to paint the walls red.
Makoto vaulted off the bed—fully dressed, all three had slept in uniform. Mid-flip, he slid a prepped note into Samui's frozen fingers. Smooth as butter. Itachi and Shisui were too busy watching the perimeter to notice.
Three shadows melted out the window like smoke, rooftop hops blending into Cloud's inky night.
Barely clear of the villa district, ducked into tree cover, Makoto dropped the bomb:
"Follow me. We're hitting Cloud's jutsu vault."
A year-plus of "house arrest"? He'd mapped every key facility—especially the Lightning Body Forge he'd been drooling over.
Unlike Konoha cramming scrolls in the Hokage Tower, Cloud kept the good stuff in a dedicated vault.
He'd begged the brass for the Forge. Always the same song: "Too young, kid. You'll fry yourself."
Could he handle it? Bitch, please.
If they wouldn't give it, he'd take it.
"The vault?!" Itachi skidded, whipping around, voice tight with hell no. "Too risky! We bug out now!"
Shisui's face screamed bad idea. "Makoto, that place is Fort Knox on steroids. Walking in is suicide."
Makoto's eyes burned. Voice low, but pure rocket fuel:
"My safety's irrelevant!"
"Picture this: we snag Cloud's crown jewels—especially those Lightning Body Forge scrolls—haul 'em back to Konoha, back to Uchiha. Village and clan level up overnight."
He let that sink in, then doubled down: "Raikage's out of town—golden window. Cripple the enemy, juice ourselves. Will of Fire, baby."
"I'm a Konoha shinobi. Uchiha blood. You think I'd pussy out of a shot like this because I might scrape a knee? That's not the Will of Fire."
"For the village, for the clan—risk it all. I've clocked every patrol rotation, every shift change. Right now? Security's drunk on complacency."
"If you two bail, I'm going solo. Even a one-percent shot at those scrolls? I'm taking it for Konoha, for Uchiha. No regrets—even if I eat dirt."
Kid dropped a TED Talk laced with patriotism and clan pride. Shisui's eyes lit up like the Fourth of July—this was the Will of Fire incarnate. Captivity hadn't broken the kid; it forged him. Rescue mission just upgraded to priority one.
Itachi's brow stayed knotted. Village and clan were great, but Makoto breathing trumped everything. Still, those fiery eyes—dude was stubborn. Nine tailed beasts couldn't drag him off this.
Quick eye contact with Shisui. Silent nod.
"Go."
Target: Cloud Jutsu Vault.
Makoto wasn't sweating failure. Worst case—they get nabbed. With Itachi and Shisui's talent plus his pull in Cloud? Brass wouldn't touch them. He'd spin it: "Welcome to the new Uchiha branch." Force 'em to "defect" and start populating Cloud's breeding program. Kidney punishment at worst. No death penalty.
Thanks to Makoto's intel plus Itachi/Shisui's stealth-god skills and genjutsu, they ghosted through patrols like ninjas in a video game speedrun.
Vault breached. Makoto beelined for the goods—kids choose, adults take the buffet. Every scroll vanished into his player inventory. Door guards (Itachi & Shisui) none the wiser.
Smooth sailing… until the border.
Tripwire. Hidden alarm barrier.
Sirens wailed across the Raikage Tower.
Cloud went full DEFCON 1. Ninjas poured out like ants from a kicked hill, rooftops flashing with bodies, war cries closing fast.
"This way!"
Shisui barked, Body Flicker on max. Even lugging two passengers, dude was a blur. Scenery smeared. Wind lashed their faces raw.
Cloud's posse was stacked, but nobody touching Shisui's speed.
Exit in sight—then sideways:
"Yo! Intruders spotted~! Dumbass fools~! Bastard tools~!"
A dark-skinned rapper with a bleach-blonde goatee, shades at midnight, seven swords on his back, burst from the treeline doing the running man.
Killer B—Eight-Tails jinchūriki.
Raikage was at the daimyo's, so B was sneaking out for an impromptu concert. Perfect timing.
He moonwalked, freestyled, limbs popping to the beat.
Team Uchiha blew past like he was a street performer.
"Yo! Runnin' ain't free~!"
B dropped the clown act. Big-bro mode engaged. He hauled ass after them.
But even B couldn't match maxed-out Shisui flicker.
"Damn! Dumbass bastards—don't flee~!"
Eyeing their escape, terrified of outside backup, B planted his feet.
BOOM.
Chakra erupted like a nuke. Shockwave flattened trees, dust tsunami.
Smoke cleared—monster.
Bull head, jacked to hell, fangs, eight writhing octopus tentacles. Full Eight-Tails cloak.
Pressure crushed the air. Blood-red chakra tornado.
Bull Ghost roared. Mouth opened—purple-black orb condensed fast, swirling with fuck everything energy.
Destruction vibe turned the night sticky.
Shisui glanced back. Face went ghost-white.
"Tailed Beast Ball?!"
That orb swelled, light warping around it. Locked on. Death star for three fleeing ants.
Itachi and Shisui's pupils shrank to pinholes.
Mountain-buster inbound. Every escape route? Gone.
The reaper just RSVP'd.