Itachi's eyes remained fixed on the shadows in the crowd, even after the pink-haired boy's back had disappeared from view.
Fugaku and Mikoto weren't much different.
Only Izumi and the two children seemed more bewildered than offended by what had just happened.
Even so, Sasuke was the first to voice his annoyance at his teammate's attitude.
— Hmph. He even dares to talk to nii-san like that. As always, he's way too arrogant.
— Well, you should've told him that while he was still here, instead of speaking up now that he's already left.
Although Sarada also agreed with the Second Pillar's words, seeing how late his reaction was, she couldn't help but make a sarcastic remark to tease him. After all, while the pink-haired boy's arrogance was exasperating, she found the patriarch's youngest son's prissy attitude far more unbearable.
The contrast between his frivolous and haughty demeanor at school and the spoiled personality he displayed when facing Itachi-oniisan and the rest of his family had always been distasteful to her.
—You… just try saying that again.
Instead of playing along with Sasuke, the girl simply stuck her tongue out at him.
Before the brat could latch onto the insult and keep making a scene, the Uchiha patriarch spoke up.
—So, that's the boy protected by old man Danzo.
—…Yes.
Although Fugaku's statement came as no surprise at all to his eldest son, it still left him feeling a slight sense of displeasure.
While the fact that Yashin Haruno was under the care of the Shadow Hokage was no secret to those who needed to know, the fact that his father had mentioned it so casually—and, worse yet, publicly—was a real problem.
After all, exposing an elderly Konoha resident's connection to someone so… infamous—what else could it be but an attempt at discrediting or provocation? Despite all the implications, the dutiful son knew his place well, so he decided to remain silent.
Investigating his family under the pretext of his role in ROOT was one thing, but trying to lecture his father on what he should or shouldn't say… even if he didn't care about the consequences, it made no sense either.
— Putting aside his attitude and everything he said, do you have any idea what he was trying to do by moving his chakra like that?
The confusion in the eyes of the family's children only grew when they saw Itachi's furrowed brow and hesitation before he responded with a vague shake of his head.
— It's no use…
Fugaku didn't know if his son meant he couldn't answer because all the information about the pink-haired was confidential, or because he truly didn't know what the brat was trying to do.
He didn't press the issue.
He decided to take it as a crude provocation meant to underscore everything he had said.
After all, what else could he expect from Danzo's protégé?
Looking at it that way, it wasn't so strange for a brat to feign casting a genjutsu through his eyes in front of an Uchiha.
Even the old man from Konoha himself might have taught him that for a moment like this.
Nevertheless, for Fugaku, the fact that such an attempt had had even the slightest influence on him was far more troubling; worse still, that fact led him to question many other things, such as how many dojutsu had been researched to achieve such a rudimentary effect?
However, the Uchiha's situation was already bad enough without dwelling on it.
Still, it was something he, as clan leader, had to keep in mind.
Just as Fugaku was about to put the matter behind him—after all, his eldest son wasn't going to give him any answers—Sasuke's voice rose again.
— Hmph. Why do they talk about him as if he were someone important when he's just a cripple?
Not to mention the adults—even Sarada felt uncomfortable with the Second Pillar's ignorance.
The pink-haired boy's unrestrained laughter after arranging the death of one of his comrades seemed to begin echoing in the girl's ears.
No matter how casual she tried to act in front of the youngest Haruno, that memory would likely stay with her for the rest of her life.
— You shouldn't underestimate others, Sasuke.
The light tap of Itachi's fingertips on Sasuke's smooth forehead made the brat puff out his cheeks.
But before he could explode with another outburst, Mikoto's hand gently stroking his hair along with her words made him swallow whatever he'd been about to say.
— Mm… Even if you don't like someone, you shouldn't speak ill of them; instead, it's better to keep your distance to avoid fighting with a peer.
Although Fugaku, as the proud patriarch of the Uchiha, would normally have scorned such weak words, this time he decided to remain silent. After all, he knew his wife had only said that to keep Sasuke safe.
Otherwise, who knows what his foolish youngest son might get himself into if he ever happened to run into that unscrupulous pink-haired.
However, Sarada's subsequent taunt rendered his restraint and advice useless.
— Hmph. How childish. I bet even now that Yashin's a cripple, he's still stronger than you.
— What? What do you mean by that?
— You heard me. Besides, making fun of someone who's sick is really low. Instead, you should've challenged him when he was healthy, back when we started the academy. Wait, if I remember correctly, you did that several times, and he beat you so badly that you didn't dare lift your head in front of him, right?
Ignoring the laughter of the girl with glasses and his younger brother's tantrum, Itachi turned his gaze toward the street where the pink-haired had disappeared.
Although his desire to kill the boy had already faded, the words he had spoken before leaving still echoed inside him.
The provocation, the threat, the advice, and the mockery… He said so much, yet at the same time, it was as if he hadn't said anything at all.
Like a drunk rambling about things he doesn't understand.
There was no point in overthinking it.
The glimpse he'd caught of the pink-haired's profile made it clear enough.
Unbridled arrogance and pride.
The words of someone with such traits should never be taken seriously. After all, most of what comes out of his mouth could very well be mere empty talk he uses to reaffirm or prop up his fragile ego.
However, his mention of the…
…
…
"Is snake venom good for treating rare diseases? Why, instead of beating around the bush, didn't you just tell him to go find that damn Orochimaru to cure him? Is that your pathetic idea of keeping a low profile?"
…
The usual complaints from the voice barely caused Yashin to slow his pace or stop chewing the dango he'd bought on the way.
— … What do you think of Itachi?
…
"What should I think of him? He's just trash, like everyone else. Besides, don't talk while you're chewing. It's disgusting."
…
After shrugging, the pink-haired took another bite out of one of the balls before speaking again.
— Yeah, it's trash, and that's the problem. I expected more—not just some brat with too much power and not a shred of real conviction.
Were all the guys at the top of that world really like that?
Weak-minded brats filled with undeserved powers?
Before Yashin could feel even more disgusted by that reality, the voice in his head distracted him again.
…
"So what? Whether they're trash or not, what does it have to do with you? Instead of focusing on how disappointing others seem to you—even though you yourself are so insignificant they could kill you with just a glance—you'd be better off focusing on your own strength so that, at least, you can earn the right to look down on them."
…
A large number of people turned to look at the pink-haired when he was unable to contain his laughter.
And how could he not laugh after everything he'd just heard?
After all, even though he knew the bastard in his head loved to rant and argue with him, he never imagined he also had such a… sobering side.
However, his sheer obsession with the top and power was even more laughable—and, at the same time, disappointing.
That voice seemed to have much more in common with Itachi than with himself.
After catching his breath and straightening up from the hunched position his laughter had left him in, Yashin continued on his way, paying not the slightest attention to his surroundings.
— I can look down on them because, despite my weakness, I can still kill anyone I want in this world.
He knew this from the moment he was born, from the instant he became conscious and opened his eyes. He reaffirmed it the very next moment, when he felt that strange energy surging through his entire body, and even more so the instant his will caused him to move.
It wasn't arrogance or bragging.
People… the human beings of this world were far too fragile. A single blow, a sharp enough cut in a moment of carelessness, could end anyone's life.
Even more so if the attack came from a newborn or a crippled brat in his first year of academy.
Even now, when he could barely crawl to go look for his sister, if he squeezed every last bit of vitality from his cells, he was sure he could still decapitate the Uchiha genius—especially considering the opening created by the little trick he'd pulled with his eyes.
…
"So much confidence just from one trick? And then what? Stretch your neck out so that anyone who's seen right through you can decapitate you?"
…
Yashin didn't answer, but his smile twisted just a little more.
Relying on a single trick didn't seem bad to him at all.
He was a cripple—weak and young.
Even so, if he wanted to, he could achieve more than the vast majority of people who had ever set foot in that world.
While it wasn't something to be proud of, it shouldn't be looked down upon either.
A simple fact that the voice in his head was, obviously, incapable of understanding.
…
"Or do you really think the rest of your tricks—like your chakra control or that nonsense you did with your eyes to provoke the Uchiha—are going to save your ass? By the way, what the hell was that? A cheap imitation of a Sharingan genjutsu?"
…
— That's not a bad description, though considering its effect and the negligible amount of chakra I used to cast it, I must say it exceeded my expectations.
After all, even though it took everyone by surprise, the fact that it had silenced them long enough for me to spout all that nonsense was enough.
Although the fact that the Uchiha Patriarch's killing intent was more intense than that of the genius he'd set his sights on struck him as far more interesting than the results of his little experiment.
Most likely, it was due to experience, but the idea that the guy had a Mangekyō couldn't be ruled out either.
…
"How and when the hell…"
…
— Yeah, yeah. I did it yesterday while I was scratching my balls. You've talked enough, so shut up. As if dealing with Sakura wasn't bad enough, now I have to put up with you…
Paying no further attention to the flowery insults echoing in his head, Yashin kept walking.
His schizophrenia, split personality, or whatever that annoyance in his head might be, could be entertaining at the start of arguments, but whenever they dragged on too long, it became a real pain in the balls for the pink-haired.
The voice was just too stupid. Even though it knew most of the same things he did, it often failed to grasp the simplest of things.
He'd modified his insects so they could perform jutsu based on some of his assumptions about the Sharingan; what was so strange about him trying the same thing on himself to test casting a visual genjutsu?
After all, he had all the necessary tools: good chakra control, enough knowledge about his own eyes not to damage them, and, above all, a pair of careless parents who were in the habit of leaving the scrolls from their ninja days in places quite accessible to a brat.
Soon, just as Yashin's chakra was running low again, the spot where Sakura and the rest of the brats usually gathered came into view.
However, upon seeing the backs of the Yamanaka heiress and her older sister leaning distantly against the same bench, a new headache seemed to strike him.
First, that pair of sick brats invading his house and demanding lessons on a weekend.
The shit continued with the harassment from his deranged, nearsighted niece.
Later, there was that disappointing Uchiha genius—someone he'd thought might be worth measuring dicks with someday, but who in the end turned out to be a weak-ass piece of trash full of unearned powers, just like his brother, the reincarnation of some ancient moron.
Then there was the endless crap of his schizophrenia, and now… even though he didn't know what kind of shit he was about to run into, he could already sense it was going to be a real ball-ache.
— How much longer until this damn day is over?