"So, who's the target?"
After dispatching their enemies and scavenging the bodies, both men were in better spirits.
Itachi, now mildly curious, turned his attention to the mission at hand.
"Name's Jindbad. Not famous, just some swordsman who crossed the wrong people. Offended a major tycoon, so the bounty's nothing to scoff at."
Jūzō glanced at him, a bit surprised that Itachi actually cared about the details.
"What's the bounty? And how long's it been active?"
"Fifteen million. It's been out for about a month now."
Itachi fell silent at that.
"Half of Asuma..." he muttered under his breath.
"What?" Jūzō turned, not quite catching the comment.
"Nothing," Itachi replied, brushing it off.
"Usually targets with bounties keep a low profile. If this guy's still out in the open, he's either an idiot or he's got real skill."
"He's not weak, that's for sure," Jūzō chuckled. "But his luck ran out. Our informants finally caught wind of him. Normal bounty hunters wouldn't have found a trace."
After several days of travel, the two finally reached their destination.
"Intel says Jindbad was spotted in this village. Do we wait it out, or start asking questions?" Jūzō asked in a hushed voice.
"We wait," Itachi replied, distracted—his mind elsewhere.
He found it unsettling.
A village this remote, yet the Akatsuki still had eyes here.
The efficiency of their intelligence network was... unsettlingly vast.
They eventually found a home with a larger yard and discussed staying a few days.
The homeowner, Suzaku, a wary-looking man, was clearly uncomfortable when he realized they weren't locals.
But the moment he saw the silver in Jūzō's hand, his tune changed instantly.
He grinned, bowed, and rushed off to prepare a room for them.
Jūzō had paid generously. He always overdid it.
"This dump doesn't even have an inn. If we wait around here, how long is this gonna take?"
Jūzō complained, pacing the room.
"You're the one who suggested the options," Itachi replied irritably.
He didn't like this part of the mission—too much waiting, too many variables.
Besides, asking around in a place like this would only blow their cover if someone in the village was watching.
"I didn't expect it to be this run-down..." Jūzō sighed in frustration.
As Jūzō poured tea from the chipped teapot, Itachi's voice cut through the quiet.
"Don't drink that. Don't touch anything from here. Let's take turns sensing chakra signatures—we might catch something."
Jūzō paused, cup halfway to his lips.
He blinked. "Huh? What are you talking about?"
"If the target has a spy here, we were likely spotted the moment we arrived," Itachi said softly, toying with a kunai as he picked his nails.
"The spy will report back. That's why we wait. Let them come to us."
Jūzō scratched his head. "That's... kinda paranoid."
"Think about it," Itachi continued. "He's got a decent bounty on his head, yet he's lasted a whole month. You think someone like that survives without backup?"
"Feels like you're overthinking, but I can't prove it..." Jūzō muttered with a grunt.
"Villages like this don't see outsiders for years. Two strangers roll in, rent a house, start sniffing around? You think that goes unnoticed?"
Jūzō nodded slowly, half-understanding. But something still bugged him.
"What if they're using carrier pigeons? How do we sense that?" he asked, frowning.
"If we focus, we might still catch it. Doubt anyone here is trained well enough to hide that sort of movement," Itachi said distractedly.
He'd already cast his sensory field across the entire village.
Small as it was, nothing moved without him noticing.
But his interest was beginning to shift. Not toward the target—but the intelligence agent embedded here.
Whoever was running surveillance for Akatsuki in this backwater hole was the real mystery.
And Itachi wanted to meet them.
Jūzō, on the other hand, just felt like his brain wasn't keeping up.
For the first time, he realized… maybe he wasn't the smart one in this partnership.
"Let's go. The target has surfaced."
Itachi's voice was low and calm as he nudged Jūzō out of his daze.
"Huh? He's shown up already?"
Jūzō blinked, still lost in thought. His voice held a trace of disbelief.
"Yes. And soon, the real target will show himself as well."
Itachi's tone was even, confident—too confident. In truth, he was only about 60% certain. But he figured with a little rounding, that was as good as a hundred.
Six out of ten was practically ten out of ten.
The two quietly slipped out the door, moving like shadows into the dusk.
As they tailed a suspicious villager making his way toward the mountain, a man in the next room watched them go.
It was the same homeowner, Suzaku who, not long ago, had eagerly accepted their silver.
Now, his expression was conflicted.
He moved quickly, retrieving a long wooden box from beneath his bed and strapping it to his back. He grabbed a travel bag from the table and slung it over one shoulder. Just as he cracked the door open to leave—
He froze.
Outside the courtyard, two silhouettes waited in silence, cloaked in the fading gold of sunset. Their shadows stretched long across the ground, like reapers.
"Where do you think you're going, Suzaku-san?"
Itachi's voice was soft, almost bored.
Suzaku froze, then smiled politely.
"Ah, esteemed guests, you must be hungry. I was just heading out to dig up some local delicacies to prepare a meal for you."
His face remained calm. No tremor in his voice. No hesitation.
"Digging for delicacies... with a weapon box on your back?"
Itachi's voice didn't rise; it didn't need to. The weight behind the words was enough.
Beneath his bamboo hat, his face was unreadable.
"You misunderstand. It's just a toolbox," the man replied smoothly.
Itachi's eyes narrowed.
"I had hoped to give you a dignified death. But for a so-called swordsman, you lack even the courage to draw your blade. That's disappointing."
He reached into his pouch and drew a few shuriken.
The man's tone shifted, now louder, almost theatrical.
"You're a ninja. If you attack a civilian without cause, it could spark war between nations. Are you prepared for that?"
"Then I suppose you'll be disappointed," Itachi replied with a slight smile. "I'm a rogue ninja now."
He flicked his wrist.
The shuriken whistled through the air.
Four blades flew with deadly precision, aimed at Jindbad's vital points.
In a blur of movement, Suzaku swung the box from his back, intercepting all four. Then he clapped his hands—the box opened, revealing a long, polished katana. The steel gleamed in the dying sunlight.
He slapped the box with his palm, and the sword shot into his waiting hand as he charged forward.
Jūzō stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with casual interest.
As Suzaku gripped his sword, his demeanor shifted. The once-amiable villager now radiated bloodlust. His eyes gleamed with killing intent. He looked like a different person entirely.
He lunged, his blade aimed straight at Itachi's chest.
Itachi, unmoved, met the attack with ease. His kunai clashed against the blade with a sharp clang, deflecting the strike. Their figures blurred and parted again.
"You're not a stray dog," Suzaku sneered. "You're just a lapdog—obedient and pathetic."
"If your swordplay was half as sharp as your mouth," Itachi replied coolly, "you wouldn't be running for your life."
Suzaku paused. There was confusion behind his eyes now.
"How… How did you know?" he asked, genuinely rattled.
He'd been sure his disguise was flawless. It had always worked before. People never saw through it. That confidence was what had kept him hidden here for so long.
As he spoke, he reached up and peeled off a human-skin mask, revealing a surprisingly youthful face—no older than twenty.
Itachi didn't flinch.
He simply pulled out a sealing scroll and summoned a long sword—the standard issue from his days in ANBU.
He gave it a testing swing.
"Your act might fool commoners. But there's no need to show off—it's not worth much," Itachi said, a trace of mockery in his tone.
"No. That's impossible. Someone must've betrayed me!" Jindbad shouted, his composure cracking.
Itachi remained calm.
"The closer something is, the harder it is to see. Your setup was clever, I'll give you that. It bought you time. But if you think that was enough to keep you safe…"
Itachi's gaze sharpened, voice quiet and cutting.
"You underestimate your enemy."
"My plan was perfect!" Jindbad shouted, but his voice was less certain now.
"Perfect?" Itachi repeated, amused.
"You set your courtyard up well—subtle traps, escape paths, villagers acting as scouts. If we had stuck around, someone would've snuck off to warn you, giving you the choice to flee or strike."
"But that kind of setup only works on amateurs. A real threat would've wiped out the entire village just to be safe. Your tricks wouldn't last a second."
Itachi spoke as though he had designed the whole thing himself, dissecting the plan piece by piece.
Jindbad's face grew darker with every word.
"How could you know all that?" he muttered, shaken. "No one could see through that so easily…"
But he was already unraveling. His thoughts were a mess.
That was the moment Itachi had been waiting for.
In a flicker of motion, he vanished—and reappeared behind Jindbad.
A clean, quiet slice.
The young man's head rolled from his shoulders.
"Naïve to the end…" Itachi whispered.
He wiped his blade clean on the corpse's tattered robe, sheathed the sword with a soft click, and fixed it to his waist.
Compared to the flashy tricks of his past allies, he preferred the weight and clarity of a single, well-forged blade.
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