Truth is the sharpest blade—and the most dangerous to speak aloud.
Around the dining table, three figures in Akatsuki cloaks sat together.
Two of them wore slashed Konoha forehead protectors.
Gurgle—
A maid stepped forward with a polite smile and filled Orochimaru's cup with sake.
Orochimaru glanced at Itachi and Kamizuki Gen—
and froze.
The maid poured—
three full cups of milk for Itachi.
Orochimaru's lips twitched.
So when you said three penalty drinks…
you meant milk?!
Once all the dishes were served, the maids quietly withdrew.
"My apologies, Snake-san," Gen said earnestly. "Itachi and I aren't of legal drinking age, so we'll substitute with milk."
As he spoke, he even raised his cup toward Orochimaru in a mock toast.
"…."
Orochimaru nearly lost composure.
He forced an awkward smile.
He couldn't help but think—
his old friend Tsunade might actually enjoy this kind of childish nonsense.
But—
this wasn't someone he could offend.
Not when this "child" was as strong as the Deva Path.
Itachi stared at the three cups of milk before him.
His expression—
subtle, but strange.
Technically, they were criminals. Members of a rogue organization.
Rules like that shouldn't matter.
And right now—
he needed alcohol.
Something to numb the pain clawing at his chest.
"So you're the new member the Leader mentioned…" Orochimaru said, lifting his cup and taking a sip.
He didn't particularly enjoy drinking—
but tonight, he played along.
He studied Itachi carefully.
Golden, snake-like eyes—
deep, predatory.
Greedy.
They scanned every inch of Itachi—
like a constrictor tightening around its prey.
Orochimaru had long coveted Itachi.
Ever since learning of the massacre—
of the Mangekyō Sharingan—
he had been planning.
How to approach him.
How to take his body.
His eyes.
And now—
fate had delivered Itachi directly to him.
What a gift.
His tongue flicked across his lips.
"I didn't expect you to be part of Akatsuki either," Itachi replied, raising his cup—then drinking milk.
Rain-soaked hair hung over his face—
but he could feel it.
That gaze.
Cold. Coiled. Waiting.
Itachi met Orochimaru's eyes without fear.
And in that instant—
he understood.
He set the milk down.
His expression darkened.
The air grew heavy.
Gen raised his cup with a grin.
"We're all from the same village."
"To meet again like this, after becoming missing-nin…"
"That's rare."
"Come—cheers to reunion in a foreign land!"
"Heh…" Orochimaru immediately followed, raising his cup.
Itachi hesitated.
Something about this scene—
felt wrong.
Deeply wrong.
He couldn't understand why Orochimaru, a former S-rank missing-nin of Konoha, was treating Gen with such deference.
And more importantly—
if it were anyone else inviting him—even the Leader—
he would've refused this dinner.
But it was Gen.
On one hand—
gratitude.
Gen had avenged him.
Destroyed Root.
Gravely injured Danzō.
On the other—
duty.
He was here as Konoha's spy.
Getting close to Gen—
was necessary.
Old friendship.
Genuine gratitude.
Duty to the village.
They collided within him.
For a brief moment—
even Itachi—
lost his usual clarity.
He raised his cup—
and lightly clinked it with the others.
But in the end—
he chose.
The village came first.
Emotion—
only weakened one's resolve.
Between Obito and Gen—
he would stand with Gen.
But between Konoha and Gen—
he chose Konoha.
If one day—
Gen's existence threatened the village—
Then—
Pain surged through Itachi's chest.
"…I'm sorry, Gen."
He made his decision.
If it came to it—
his blade would fall clean.
Precise.
Merciless.
Just like it had—
on his parents.
Gen set his cup down.
He looked at Itachi—
at the pain barely hidden beneath the surface—
and smiled.
"Itachi."
"You're a spy sent by Konoha to infiltrate Akatsuki, aren't you?"
"…!"
Itachi's heart slammed.
But his face—
didn't change.
He forced control.
His hand lowered—
slowly setting the cup down.
Orochimaru narrowed his eyes sharply.
"That's impossible."
"He slaughtered the Uchiha."
"Why would Konoha still use him?"
Orochimaru had suspected Gen.
But Itachi—
he had been observing.
Now—
interest ignited.
Itachi's voice turned heavy, strained.
"Gen… I simply couldn't tolerate the Uchiha's arrogance and—"
Gen waved him off.
"There's no one else here."
"No Zetsu watching."
"No Leader listening."
"We're among ourselves."
"No need to lie."
Silence.
"Heh… hehehe…"
A cold smile spread across Orochimaru's face.
If Itachi's identity was exposed—
then together with Gen—
they could easily control him.
Itachi… you wouldn't want the Leader to know, would you?
Orochimaru's excitement grew.
He could trade.
Offer something—
in exchange for Itachi's body.
His eyes.
Tonight—
was getting interesting.
"I still don't understand," Orochimaru added, fanning the flames. "Why would Konoha dare use him?"
Gen looked straight at Itachi.
"Snake-san… you forgot something."
"The only survivor of the Uchiha massacre—who is he?"
Itachi's pupils shrank.
His composure—
finally cracked.
His mind raced.
How—
how did Gen know?
Orochimaru frowned, thinking.
"…Uchiha Sasuke."
"Itachi's younger brother."
"Exactly," Gen said, smiling faintly. "Itachi had it rough."
"To prevent civil war, he slaughtered his clan."
"For his brother, he made a deal with Konoha."
"To infiltrate Akatsuki."
"For his brother."
"For the village."
"There's nothing he wouldn't do."
Gen turned to Orochimaru, grinning.
"Tell me, Snake-san."
"One day—"
"Will Itachi cut us down for Konoha?"
Orochimaru let out a hoarse chuckle.
"Let's set you aside."
"Do you really think he can kill me?"
At this moment—
he still believed it.
Across the table—
Itachi's forehead beaded with cold sweat.
His gaze wavered.
His fists tightened.
Alone—
he could handle Orochimaru.
But with Gen added—
Tonight—
might be his end.
Then—
Gen's tone shifted.
His smile softened.
"Itachi."
"Back then, you had no choice."
"But now—"
"I'm giving you one."
"A chance…"
"To be a good person."
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