System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 297: Chapter 296: The Man Who Knows Too Much

---The Forests - Land of Rivers---

’This should be enough,’ Itachi thought as he stopped his tracks.

Like the one they were on before, the place they were currently at was still a dense forest, but the canopy was thicker here, creating a natural gloom. It was secluded, far from the prying eyes of the Akatsuki or any Konoha pursuit teams.

Haku stood at least five meters away from Itachi, his breath steady. He looked around, his eyes scanning the bark of the trees and the moss on the ground.

His sensei, Alaric, had already thrown information at him regarding a specific member of the Akatsuki. A creature that could merge with trees, travel through the earth, and spy on anything.

”Zetsu,” Haku murmured. ”Mayfly.”

He shook his head at Itachi.

”No,” Haku said, his voice firm. ”This isn’t secure enough.”

He raised his hand. He didn’t weave standard seals. He used his signature one-handed signs.

”If you don’t want Zetsu to hear us nor know where we are... this will do.”

’How does he...!’ Itachi widened his eyes. His hand twitched toward a kunai, prepared to react to whatever jutsu the boy was casting.

But Haku didn’t attack. He knelt down and slammed his palm onto the ground.

’Fuinjutsu: Silent World Barrier!’

The air rippled.

The surroundings became a blur, as if they were looking through frosted glass. The colors of the forest washed out, replaced by a muted grey scale. Both Itachi and Haku became semi-transparent to each other, like ghosts caught between dimensions. The sounds of the forest... the wind, the birds... vanished instantly, replaced by a heavy, absolute silence.

”Don’t worry,” Haku smiled a little, standing back up and dusting off his knees. ”This is only a somewhat advanced version of a silence seal. It distorts light and sound waves in a localized area. You may walk out of here whenever you wish... I’m not trapping you. I only wish to talk.”

”...”

Itachi stayed silent for a moment. He assessed the barrier with his Sharingan. He could see the chakra flow... it was intricate, highly advanced, and completely passive. It wasn’t an attack. It was a privacy screen.

He nodded his head slowly.

”Speak,” Itachi commanded, his voice echoing slightly in the distorted space. ”How did you conclude my purpose within the Akatsuki?”

”He didn’t.”

Itachi spun around.

His Sharingan flared instinctively, the three tomoe spinning into a blur. His body reacted faster than conscious thought, his hand flashing to form the seal for a Fireball Jutsu.

But he forced himself to stop.

A tall blonde man was leaning casually against a tree that had not been occupied a heartbeat ago. A crimson coat was draped loosely over his shoulders like a cape. Smoke curled lazily from a cigar held between his fingers.

Itachi’s danger signals were going haywire. This was the first time in years he had been surprised like this. He hadn’t sensed the man at all. No distortion of space, no fluctuation of chakra, no sound. It was as if the man had simply become part of the scene.

If this man could arrive without being noticed by a Mangekyo Sharingan user... he was faster than sound. Faster than light.

”And... who are you?” Itachi asked, his voice even, betraying nothing of the sudden spike in adrenaline.

’I’ve got an S-rank Ice-user... and this man,’ Itachi analyzed rapidly. ’I can’t read him. His posture is too relaxed. He has no openings because he doesn’t care about defense.’

The man glanced at him, then shrugged, pushing himself off the tree with an easy motion. He took a slow drag from his cigar before answering, his blue eyes half-lidded and amused.

”Alaric Jonathan Kenway,” he said, as though reciting a name carried no particular importance. ”Though I doubt you’ll find much about me in any record that matters. I’m just a man who enjoys a good cigar.”

Itachi did not respond immediately. His gaze flicked briefly to Haku.

”Tsk... sensei, you surprised me a bit.”

Haku gave the smallest shake of his head, confirming what Itachi already suspected... this was not part of the original plan. Haku was the messenger. Alaric was the message.

”If you’ve gone to such lengths to conceal this meeting,” Itachi spoke with deliberate calm, his eyes returning to Alaric, ”then I would prefer you get to the point.”

Alaric exhaled smoke slowly. He studied Itachi... the lines of stress around his eyes, the illness hiding in his chakra network... in a way that felt less like scrutiny and more like recognition.

He sighed, flicking the ash from his cigar.

”Uchiha Itachi... sure, I’ll get to the point,” Alaric began, his tone casual but his words hitting like physical blows. ”I know that the massacre of your clan was orchestrated by Shimura Danzo.”

The world did not stop, but something within it shifted.

”I know that he cornered you into becoming the blade for his ambitions,” Alaric continued, ”despite the Sandaime Hokage’s belief that negotiation was still possible.”

Itachi’s expression remained unchanged. He stood perfectly still, carved from shadow and resolve. He had lived with this truth for so long, burying it under layers of lies and blood, that hearing it spoken aloud felt surreal.

Alaric didn’t let up.

”I know Danzo stole Shisui’s Mangekyō to prevent him from using Kotoamatsukami on your father.”

Alaric’s gaze sharpened, fixing unflinchingly on Itachi’s eyes.

”And I know that you still carry the other eye. Inside a crow.”

Itachi’s finger twitched.

”I know,” Alaric went on, relentless, ”that you shaped your brother’s life around hatred so that one day he would kill you... so that the name Uchiha could be cleansed by your death, and Sasuke would return to the village as a hero.”

Interest flickered at last in Itachi’s eyes. It was subtle, like a blade catching moonlight.

”Interesting,” Itachi said quietly, inclining his head a fraction. ”And how did you arrive at the conclusion that I spy on the Akatsuki?”

Alaric let out a breath that was half a sigh, half an admission of patience. ”I didn’t arrive at anything. I simply followed the truth to where it led.”

He took another drag.

”You joined them to protect the village. To protect Sasuke. You needed the world to see you as a criminal so Konoha wouldn’t bear the blame for the massacre. By standing among monsters, you ensured their hatred stayed focused on you alone.”

The forest seemed to lean inward, the seal holding firm as the words layered themselves one atop another.

”From inside,” Alaric said, ”you could slow their plans. Redirect them. Leak information when necessary. And as long as you lived, you made a pact that they wouldn’t touch the Leaf.”

Itachi felt the weight of years settle against his chest.

”Don’t deny it,” Alaric finished, his gaze unwavering. ”You accepted damnation so your brother could live free of pursuit, and so the shinobi world wouldn’t tear itself apart over the Uchiha.”

Silence followed. It wasn’t the constructed hush of the seal, but something deeper.

”You chose a noble path that saved countless lives,” Alaric said at last, quieter now, ”even if it meant sacrificing your own soul.”

Itachi’s Mangekyō faded slowly. The crimson bled back into the familiar pattern of three tomoe. He exhaled, the sound barely there.

”...You speak as though you were there,” Itachi said, his voice low.

His gaze drifted to Alaric’s shadow. It didn’t waver.

”You named events erased from record,” Itachi continued, his tone measured. ”Knowledge even the elders would deny.” His eyes sharpened. ”Danzo ensured that truth died with him.”

He paused, then looked back to Alaric. ”And yet you speak it openly.”

”Before I consider your intent,” Itachi said, ”I must understand your position. Did you witness these events... or did you exhume them?”

He did not wait for an answer.

”If you drew this knowledge from Danzo,” he went on, ”then you are more entangled in Konoha’s sins than most who call themselves its enemies.”

A faint breath left him.

”If you did not... then you possess means that render secrecy obsolete.”

Either way, the conclusion was unavoidable.

”You accuse me of nothing,” Itachi said. ”You offer no judgment. Yet you recite my life as if reading a report.”

His fingers flexed once within his sleeve.

”Which tells me this conversation is not about truth.”

His gaze flicked briefly to Haku. ”You did not bring me here to inform me. You brought me here to alter me.”

Returning his attention to Alaric, Itachi’s voice lowered. ”You wish me to leave the Akatsuki.”

Not a question.

”You believe my presence there is a mistake,” he said quietly. ”That my suffering serves no purpose.”

”However...” He shook his head once. ”You are wrong.”

”I am not among them because it benefits me,” Itachi continued. ”I am there because I am replaceable.”

He turned slightly, looking past the trees.

”If I leave, others will take my place. Men without restraint. Men who will not delay, who will not hesitate.”

His jaw tightened.

”And as long as I live, Konoha remains untouched.”

Another pause.

”Tell me, Alaric Jonathan Kenway,” Itachi said, his voice steady as stone. ”If I abandon that path... which life do you permit me to forsake?”

”...”

”...”

The silence did not break immediately.

Alaric did not answer with urgency. He simply stood there, smoke rising lazily from his cigar. It was the look of a man considering not how to respond, but how much truth the other could bear at once.

At last, Alaric exhaled.

”You assume,” he said evenly, ”that your absence creates a vacuum only monsters can fill.”

He straightened slightly, pushing himself off the tree.

”That assumption was true,” Alaric continued. ”It is not anymore.”

The forest remained silent, but the words landed with weight.

”You stay among the Akatsuki because you believe you are the final restraint,” Alaric said. ”The hand on the blade. The delay between intention and execution.”

He took another slow step forward.

”But restraints can be replaced. And so can deterrents.”

Itachi did not respond, but his attention sharpened.

”You believe that as long as you live, Konoha is safe,” Alaric went on. ”That is no longer accurate.”

He let the statement linger.

”Danzo is dead.”

The words were simple, spoken without emphasis, yet they rippled outward all the same.

Itachi’s gaze tightened.

”The man who engineered your damnation,” Alaric said. ”The man who would have ensured the cycle continued. He is gone. I killed him.”

He took another drag, then flicked the ash aside.

”Without him, the foundation you built your choices on has already cracked.”

”You remain in the Akatsuki to prevent retaliation,” Alaric continued. ”But tell me this—retaliation from whom?”

He gestured vaguely.

”Pein does not spare Konoha because of you. Madara does not delay because of you. They move when it suits them, not when you allow it.”

The words were not cruel. They were precise.

”You slow nothing that cannot already be slowed by other means,” Alaric said. ”And you prevent nothing that cannot already be prevented.”

The smoke curled between them.

”You are not the lynchpin anymore, Itachi,” he said. ”You are a ghost haunting a machine that no longer needs you to turn.”

The weight of that settled slowly.

”You stay because you believe leaving will make things worse,” Alaric said. ”But you have not considered the alternative.”

Alaric’s eyes sharpened, locking fully onto Itachi now.

”You have lived your entire life choosing between two paths,” he said. ”One drenched in blood. The other paved with guilt.”

He took another step closer.

”You tell yourself there is only left or right. Only sacrifice or collapse.”

His voice lowered.

”But that was never true.”

The forest seemed to still further.

”You’ve been walking a road someone else drew for you,” Alaric said. ”Danzo drew it. The elders approved it. The shinobi world accepted it.”

He gestured faintly between them.

”And you convinced yourself there were no exits.”

Alaric paused, then spoke again, slower now.

”You once asked yourself where to go,” he said. ”To the left, where nothing is right. Or to the right, where nothing is left.”

He shook his head.

”That was a false choice.”

The words carried no mockery. Only quiet correction.

”You were never meant to keep walking that road,” Alaric said. ”You were meant to step off it.”

Itachi’s fingers curled slightly within his sleeve.

”You do not need to remain in the Akatsuki,” Alaric said. ”Not to protect Konoha. Not to protect Sasuke.”

He held Itachi’s gaze steadily.

”Sasuke does not need your death anymore,” Alaric said. ”He needs your presence.”

The sentence struck deeper than any accusation could have.

”You shaped his hatred so he could survive,” Alaric continued. ”But hatred was never meant to be the destination. Only the bridge. And he has crossed it.”

Alaric’s voice softened.

”You believe your life can only purchase peace through suffering. That if you are not in pain, others will be.”

He shook his head again.

”That equation expired the moment Danzo died.”

The forest felt heavier now, not with silence, but with possibility.

”You are allowed to live,” Alaric said simply.

He let the words stand on their own.

”You are allowed to choose something that does not end in your erasure,” he added. ”You are allowed to stay.”

Alaric took one last drag from his cigar, then extinguished it against the bark of the tree with deliberate care.

”Not as a traitor,” he said. ”Not as a martyr.”

His eyes did not waver.

”But as a brother.”

.

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