Across the courtyard, Mikoto’s eyes flicked toward them.
And for a moment — just a second — Otis felt it.
Something pressing behind her gaze.
Not hatred. Not killing intent.
Just… weight. Like the pressure of mountains behind silence.
“She holds the clan together,” Itachi said, softly now.
“Not through trust. Not through kindness.”
“But through strength.”
“And fear?”
“Maybe,” Itachi admitted.
“But there’s been no bloodshed since she became the leader”
Otis watched her as she stepped forward and spoke — voice calm, commanding and unshaken. There is no drama.
And the people who resented her?
They stood straight and they listened.
She really is far better than Fugaku ever was, Otis thought.
Shortly after Otis leaves the Uchiha compound.
The door slid shut behind him.
Otis’s footsteps faded down the stone path. The scent of rice and tea still lingered in the room, though the air felt different now — in his absence.
Mikoto stood at the window, fingers resting on the frame, her gaze following the fading silhouette of Otis.
“You see the way he walks? Like he doesn't care what anyone thinks.” she murmured.
Itachi stood several feet behind her, hands folded neatly behind his back. He said nothing.
She turned slightly, not facing him fully.
“Interesting boy.”
Still no reply.
“Strong,” she continued. “Calm and Unafraid.”
Itachi’s gaze didn’t shift.
“You’ve been near him more than I expected,” Mikoto said, watching him closely — like she already knew about the mission.
“I was assigned,” Itachi said calmly.
“By the Hokage.”
“Yes.”
She turned to him now, studying his face.
Her Mangekyō wasn’t active — but Itachi still felt the weight of her presence.
“I trust the Sandaime’s reasons,” she said, voice smooth.
Itachi let a beat pass before replying.
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
“Do I?” she asked softly.
“Because you are watching?”
“No,” he said. “Because I’m protecting.”
That gave her pause.
Her eyes softened — just slightly. At least her boy isn't doing something unlike some shadow organization...
Behind her, Itachi stood unmoving.
But his eyes followed the fading trail Otis had left.
***
Later that evening — Uchiha compound rooftops, quiet and under the moonlit sky.
Itachi stood atop the roof, arms at his sides, eyes scanning the village. He was just… thinking.
He didn’t hear Shisui land behind him — but he felt it.
Itachi didn’t look back.
“Why are you here?”
“Checking on my favorite half-shadow,” Shisui replied, stepping forward and sitting on the edge, his legs dangling.
“Also, Mikoto-san told me to ‘keep my eyes open.’ Which usually means she’s thinking five steps ahead and wants us to play catch-up.”
A pause.
The wind moved over them gently, lifting the edge of Itachi’s cloak.
“You don’t like him,” Itachi said finally.
“Otis?” Shisui asked, genuinely surprised. “No, I do.”
“He’s weird. Big. Sharp. Makes jokes like an old man who’s survived five wars and three divorces.”
“But no, I don’t dislike him.”
“I just don’t trust the silence around him.”
Itachi turned away again, staring into the village.
“He’s strong.”
“And he has potential”
Shisui smirked faintly.
Itachi’s eyes narrowed slightly.
He stood up slowly, stretching.
“Anyway, you’re not the only one watching him. Don’t be surprised if this all gets complicated.”
“And if it does?” Itachi asked. He already knew about Danzō — but he’d dealt with that issue.
And just like that, Shisui vanished into the shadows.
Itachi stood alone again.
***
Uchiha Main House – Mikoto’s private room. Late night.
The room was dim, the scent of warm sake lingering in the air. A single lantern lit the low table between them.
Mikoto sat gracefully, legs tucked beneath her, a half-empty cup resting between two fingers.
Shisui leaned against the wooden frame, arms folded. No armor. No headband.
“You summoned me,” he said finally.
“I prefer ‘invited,’” Mikoto replied, voice smooth. “Summoning is for beasts.”
She poured herself another drink — silently — then set the pot down.
“I heard you spoke to Itachi.” Mikoto smiled faintly.
“And you’re very aware for someone who hasn’t activated her Sharingan,” Shisui noted.
“I don’t need my eyes to see where things are moving,” she said softly. “Only ears. And instinct.”
She sipped slowly.
Shisui walked over and sat, legs crossed lazily, eyes sharp despite the smile on his face.
“So... Otis?”
“Yes,” Mikoto said. “Otis.”
“It was him, wasn’t it? The one Itachi’s mission is about?” Mikoto asked, her eyes fixed on Shisui.
He hesitated for only a second.
“…Yes.”
Mikoto's gaze hardened.
The rooftop fell silent.
***
The early sun painted soft light across the treetops. The river moved steadily, not too loud, the air was fresh and chilly.
It seemed like it would start snowing in a few days.
Otis stood barefoot on a flat stone at the river’s edge. His back was straight, for a while now, he’d been thinking about bending the path of his thrown stones midair — shifting their direction, and his throwing skill made it easy for him to work on it.
It took nearly two days to get it right — a feat that would’ve taken most ninja two weeks or more depending on their talent.
Now, he had two techniques
The first one was like Uchiha-style kunai throwing, where the stone’s path changed after ricocheting off something.
The second? A stone that altered its direction in midair, on its own.
In one hand he had— a round, flat rock.
He exhaled through his nose, his muscles tightening, and focus sharp.
He flicked the stone.
It cut through the air, skipping across the river surface — once, twice… then thwack! It struck a wooden target nailed to a trunk across the water.
Dead center.
He reached down to his pouch, pulled another stone — heavier this time.
He focused chakra into his fingers — just enough to increase grip, not weight. It hummed slightly under his skin.
“Control. Not power.”
He threw again — this time the stone curved. Not by mistake.
It smacked the edge of a second target, ricocheted, and embedded in a third.
He let out a soft grunt of satisfaction. Not a smile. Just… approval.
Now for the second type.
He stepped back, widened his stance, and threw — not with full force, but with a twist. He infused chakra into the throw — just a little, right at the release.
The result?
The stone wobbled, spinning too fast. The spin pulled it too far to the right, and it smacked into a tree just beside his mark.
“Better,” he muttered.
Otis could feel his ‘Throwing skill’ improving — his mastery growing with every throw.
He sat down on a mossy log
He picked up a stick and drew shapes in the dirt. Spirals. Curves. Angles.
“It’s not just about direction. It’s about timing.”
Another pause. Then a thought:
“Can I guide it after it’s left my hand?”
If I use chakra strings, like Kankurō…Wrap them around the stone…I could change its direction suddenly.
But it’ll limit my range. I can’t throw long distance that way.
Still… it will be deadly in close range.
He grabbed another stone and pushed chakra into it — stretching a chakra string, he couldn’t make it as thin as Kankurō’s, but he made it thin as much as possible — then threw.
It flew straight… then it changed its path midair as Otis pulled the string.
Thunk.
Right edge of the far stump.
He blinked.
“…Did I just…”
He tried again — same method.
This one twisted a little more. Not wildly — but enough to dodge around the first and second stump and tap the third one’s left side.
He grinned wildly.
Then paused.
“...I need a name for this.”
He looked up at the sky.
“Boomerock?”
He scowled at himself.
“Nah. That’s stupid.”
...
(A/N)
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