The meeting dispersed slowly.
Clusters of voices dissolved into narrow streets, doors closing one by one as lantern light flickered behind wooden panels. The Uchiha district felt quieter than usual, but not weak.
Compressed.
Kuroto stepped onto the roof of a low building overlooking the training grounds. The air was cool, steady, and still.
He knew he was not alone.
He did not turn immediately.
"You chose your words carefully."
The voice was calm, measured, without accusation.
Itachi stood several steps behind him, hands resting loosely at his sides, posture relaxed in the way only someone fully prepared could afford to be.
Kuroto faced the horizon instead of him.
"It was necessary," he replied.
Itachi studied his profile for a long moment.
"You are shifting the younger members."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
There was no hostility in the statement. Only acknowledgment.
Kuroto finally turned slightly, enough to meet Itachi's gaze without fully squaring his shoulders.
"They are already shifting," he said quietly. "I am only ensuring they do not collapse under pressure."
Itachi's eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly.
"You believe the pressure is artificial."
"I believe escalation benefits someone."
A faint pause.
"You suspect Danzō," Itachi said.
Not a question.
Kuroto did not confirm directly.
"I suspect structure."
That answer earned the smallest flicker of interest.
Below them, the wind passed lightly through the empty training ground, rustling loose leaves against worn wood.
"You are not reacting emotionally," Itachi observed.
"Emotion is predictable," Kuroto replied. "Predictability invites manipulation."
Itachi regarded him more carefully now.
"And yet," he said, voice steady, "you stand at the center of instability."
"Because instability was already present."
Silence settled between them again.
Not awkward.
Measured.
"You were present the night Shisui disappeared," Itachi said.
The air shifted subtly.
Kuroto did not look away.
"Yes."
"You were also present when Root operatives died."
"Yes."
"You do not deny either."
"There is nothing to deny."
Itachi watched him closely.
"You are not afraid of being blamed."
"No."
"Why?"
Kuroto turned fully now.
"Because narrative control is temporary," he said. "Structural weakness is not."
Itachi's gaze lingered.
"You believe the system itself must change."
"Yes."
"And if that change costs lives?"
Kuroto did not answer immediately.
The question was not rhetorical.
"Lives are already being traded," he said finally. "Quietly."
Itachi's expression did not shift, but something behind it recalibrated.
"You are walking a narrow line," Itachi said.
"So are you."
That was the first direct strike.
Not aggressive.
Accurate.
Itachi did not deny it.
"If the clan accelerates," Itachi continued, "the village will respond."
"If the village tightens further," Kuroto replied, "the clan will accelerate."
Another silence.
Balanced.
Equal.
For a moment, neither spoke, both aware of the delicate equilibrium holding the district together.
"You are not driven by hatred," Itachi said at last.
"No."
"That makes you more dangerous."
Kuroto did not smile.
"Only to those who rely on fear."
The wind shifted again, stronger this time.
In the distance, faint movement along the outer patrol routes signaled increased presence.
Itachi noticed it too.
"Danzō will not remain patient," he said quietly.
"I know."
"And if he moves?"
"Then we adjust."
Itachi studied him for a final moment.
"You are not seeking control of the clan."
"No."
"What are you seeking?"
Kuroto's gaze returned to the horizon.
"Balance that does not depend on suppression."
Itachi exhaled almost imperceptibly.
"That may require breaking what exists."
"Yes."
The honesty hung between them.
No illusions.
No posturing.
When Itachi stepped back toward the edge of the roof, he paused.
"If you lose control," he said, "I will stop you."
Kuroto met his gaze without challenge.
"If you misunderstand me," he replied, "you may try."
Not threat.
Statement.
Itachi disappeared into shadow without another word.
Alone again beneath the quiet sky, Kuroto allowed himself one steady breath.
The board was set.
And both sides now knew the other was thinking several moves ahead.