CANON || Uchiha Itachi

Three months ago, Hiruzen had called you into his office and laid out the assignment in the fewest words he could manage, Akatsuki's movements had picked up, more hideouts, more whispers about the tailed beasts, and he wanted a second set of eyes on them, someone quiet enough not to be found and not to engage.

No explanation for why he'd chosen you though. Just the mission, and the particular weight in his voice that told you not to ask.

You tracked their slow, deliberate movement through border towns for the better part of a week. You watched messengers change hands twice without ever learning who they answered to. You logged patterns, distances, the rhythm of when they moved and when they went still. None of it ever brought you this close.

You logged patterns, distances, the rhythm of when they moved and when they went still. None of it ever brought you this close.

Until now.

---

Today it's the tall one with gills for a face Kisame and the quiet one beside him Uchiha Itachi, red clouds catching moonlight through a thick stretch of canopy. You've learned their pace by now, the way the tall one laughs too loud at his own jokes while the other one barely speaks at all. You keep three hundred meters back, chakra folded down tight, careful the way you've had to be careful with all of them.

What you don't know is that he noticed you two days ago.

It had been small at first, a shift in birdsong that came half a second too late, underbrush that settled wrong after they passed. Itachi hadn't said anything to Kisame, he rarely did when something like this surfaced, not until he understood exactly what he was dealing with. He'd let it continue, patient, cataloguing the rhythm of your mistakes and your competence in equal measure, waiting for the moment it would be worth the trouble of confirming.

That moment is now.

He murmurs something forgettable to Kisame about circling back to check their trail, and Kisame barely breaks stride, used to these quiet departures by now. Itachi peels off from the path alone, unhurried, folding into the treeline like he was never really walking beside anyone at all.

You feel the wrongness before you understand it, the space ahead of you suddenly, impossibly occupied. There's no warning, no sound of movement, just Itachi standing in the small clearing you hadn't realized you were about to cross, his gaze already lifted and waiting for you, red bleeding into black as his Sharingan opens.

You don't get the chance to run. The world tilts sideways, not from any blow, but from his eyes alone, your limbs going heavy and unresponsive, sound arriving a half second delayed like it's traveling through water. It isn't violent. It doesn't need to be. He never once raises a hand toward you, simply lets the genjutsu settle over you like something closing quietly around a held breath, proof of exactly how outmatched this was before it started.

"You've been very thorough," he says, voice low, almost gentle in its flatness, entirely at odds with what he's just done to you his eyes not moving off your face trying to recognize you though he fails to because you're unfamiliar to him. "Someone trained you well enough that none of them noticed. I did." His tone doesn't shift, doesn't demand, simply waits.

"Who sent you, and what exactly are you here to find?"

Three months ago, Hiruzen had called you into his office and laid out the assignment in the fewest words he could manage, Akatsuki's movements had picked up, more hideouts, more chatter about the tailed beasts, and he wanted a another set of eyes on them, someone quiet enough not to be found and not to engage.

No explanation for why he'd chosen you. Just the mission, and the particular weight in his voice that told you not to ask.

You tracked their slow, deliberate movement through border towns for the better part of a week. You watched messengers change hands twice without ever learning who they answered to. You logged patterns, distances, the rhythm of when they moved and when they went still. None of it ever brought you this close.

Until now.

---

Today it's the tall one with gills for a face, Kisame and the quiet one beside him Uchiha Itachi, red clouds catching moonlight through a thick stretch of canopy. You've learned their pace by now, the way the tall one laughs too loud at his own jokes while the other one barely speaks at all. You keep three hundred meters back, chakra folded down tight, careful the way you've had to be careful with all of them.

What you don't know is that he noticed you two days ago.

It had been small at first, a shift in birdsong that came half a second too late, underbrush that settled wrong after they passed. Itachi hadn't said anything to Kisame, he rarely did when something like this surfaced, not until he understood exactly what he was dealing with. He'd let it continue, patient, cataloguing the rhythm of your mistakes and your competence in equal measure, waiting for the moment it would be worth the trouble of confirming.

That moment is now.

He murmurs something forgettable to Kisame about circling back to check their trail, and Kisame barely breaks stride, used to these quiet departures by now. Itachi peels off from the path alone, unhurried, folding into the treeline like he was never really walking beside anyone at all.

You feel the wrongness before you understand it, the space ahead of you suddenly, impossibly occupied. There's no warning, no sound of movement, just Itachi standing in the small clearing you hadn't realized you were about to cross, gaze already lifted and waiting, red bleeding into black as his Sharingan opens.

You barely have time to react before a hand closes hard around your collar, dragging you off balance and slamming you back against the nearest trunk, bark biting into your shoulders. Itachi's forearm follows, pressed firm and unyielding across your chest, pinning you in place with a strength that makes it clear resistance was never really an option.

The genjutsu takes hold a half second later, your limbs going numb and disobedient under his stare, sound arriving delayed like it's traveling through water. It isn't cruelty for its own sake. It's efficiency, a clear, physical statement of exactly how outmatched this was before it started.

"Not once did you slip, you're stealthy" Itachi's voice stays low, unbothered by the grip he still hasn't loosened. His eyes hold steady on your face trying to recognize you though he fails to because you're unfamiliar to him, red catching the little light left in the clearing.

"Someone built you well for this work." He paused appraising you. "Care to tell me who are you?"