𝟗𝟕| "What we hold most dear"

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CHAPTER 97 — WHAT WE HOLD MOST DEAR
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Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains.

He was age four when the Third Shinobi War waged.

With countless casualties and countless death. Destruction plagued the earth and the sky released its rage tenfold. It rained the day he stood by the cliff's edge, wind whirring breezily, a catapult of pressure clinging onto his skin as he sliced through the air and plummeted to the ground. The land grew closer and closer, his mind unable to run away and cower at the sight of death and running away seemed like the only plausible solution. He never once desired death as his providence but knew no other way, no other exit in this sea of darkness.

You cannot avoid the truth, Itachi. A voice whispered into his mind and for a moment, he was blinded by darkness, or light, he couldn't tell. Running away is selfish. Let them know, let them know what's right.

What was right?

If there was definite right and definite wrong, humans wouldn't be fighting against each other, only against definite evil. There would be no moral disputes, no disagreements. Law and order would be established through a definite source, the world would abide by an immutable, moral compass. Was he wrong to initiate what he thought was right when his right could very well be a wrong for another? That by pursuing his truth would only hinder a person's sense of obligation, their truth, their morals, their emotions, their integrity.

Why not resolve through peace? Violence only leads to more violence, death only leads to more death. Why won't peace lead to more peace?

Something, something deep within him made him grapple onto the rocky terrain of the cliff's neck and stall his descent, blood rushed to his brain and life breathed back into him. It was an uncomfortable fall, his chakra softening his landing as the rocks and grains created incisions on his skin. Itachi stopped, staring at the sky, at the green grass, at the golden flowers and tall trees and swaying leaves and yet— only one thing caught his attention.

A bird.

A dove, to be precise, it was lone and seemingly small in a sky so vast and empty, but it flew freely. Its wings tore through the torrent, the world only an image below. Birds were harmless animals and yet they were hunted. They were free, only that they weren't. Not when the world refused to cease its relentless war against itself.

He reached his hand out towards the bird and clenched his fist.

Itachi imagined a world where people smiled at each other rather than harbour hostility. A world so clear and stainless, untainted by blood, untainted by violence. Death was inevitable, there was nothing in his power that he could do to prevent it, but he could prevent unnecessary death.

He didn't have many regrets, he couldn't control his Sharingan being unlocked from such a young age nor could he control its uses, the advantage it has as a tool for protection or harm. But he could control how he used it.

I'll search. Itachi began his pursuit, trekking through the trees of the training grounds. I'll search and search and search until I find a way.




"How does Sasuke sound?" Mikoto asked, her fingers gently coursing through her son's hair as he laid on her lap. "Sasuke Uchiha. Has a nice ring to it don't you think, 'tachi?"

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