Mercury’s Manifestation

"Alright, let's see what they're hiding."

With that, you push open the heavy wooden door leading to the basement, stepping into the unknown.

It's like a prison—only far more grotesque.

The air is thick with an unbearable stench, a vile mixture of filth and urine clinging to the ragged clothes of the imprisoned children. The scent alone has you instinctively raising a hand to cover your nose.

Small, stifled sobs echo through the dimly lit space, the only sound cutting through the suffocating silence. Scattered across the floor are rusted machetes, bloodstained crates, and remnants of something far worse.

Huh, child trafficking.

As much as you expected this, seeing it firsthand is so ugly. You glance at Itachi. His expression remains unreadable, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He's feeling it too.

A little girl, barely older than five, stares up at you with wide, hollow eyes from behind rusted bars. Her lips tremble, but no words come out.

All the children flinch at the mere sight of you, their wide eyes filled with an unsettling mix of fear and anticipation—like they've been expecting someone, just not you.

You move further down the dimly lit corridor, scanning each cell with meticulous precision. You're looking for Kaito, but the thought of leaving the other children behind doesn't sit right with you. Still, how do you even begin to handle this? You weren't built for this kind of mission. Stealth, deception, chaos—that's your forte. But this? The weight of something so grim, so real, feels almost foreign.

Your gaze shifts to Itachi, who is carefully flipping through an old, worn journal, his expression unreadable.

Itachi, huh?

If anyone is used to this kind of mission, it's him. He's been a shinobi since childhood—that much you know, even if the details are hazy. Everyone in the Akatsuki is some kind of battle-hardened warrior, raised in blood and war. Missions like these? They're routine for them. But for you? This is new territory. All you ever did in space was explore and battle cryptic alien monsters.

Your fingers tighten around the iron bars. The fear in the children's eyes gnaws at something inside you, something you don't quite know how to process. You can't blame them. You must look terrifying—an outsider, a stranger with inhuman eyes and an unreadable expression.

This isn't like fighting space creatures. There's no thrill of battle, no satisfying clash of power. Just the quiet, suffocating horror of children who have already learned to expect the worst.

Itachi turns a page in the journal, his gaze sharp beneath the dim lighting. His silence is unsettling, but you know he's thinking, planning.

You exhale, forcing yourself to focus. "Kaito," you murmur, scanning the cells again. "We need to find him first."

Itachi hums in agreement but doesn't look up. "We'll free them all." His voice is calm—too calm. "But we need to move carefully."

Carefully. Right.

Searching for keys to the cells is impractical, and you're all about improvisation.

You scrunch your face in concentration, strained like you're on the verge of something dramatic—maybe even catastrophic. Then, with a low groan of twisting metal, the bars of the cell begin to bend, warping unnaturally to create just enough space for the children to slip through.

Itachi's eyes widen—just slightly, but noticeably. A rare sight. He doesn't comment. Simply observes, his gaze flickering between the warped metal and the controlled force behind your actions. For someone who thrives on deception and unpredictability, you never fail to surprise.

The children hesitate at first, unsure if this is some cruel trick. But when one of the braver ones inches forward and successfully slips through, the rest quickly follow, scrambling into the open.

"We still need Kaito," you remind him, scanning the dim corridor.

Itachi closes the journal with a soft thud. "Then let's find him." Something about the way he says it—calm, certain—steadies you in a way you weren't expecting.

A little girl, no older than six, clutches the hem of your sundress. Her small fingers tremble as she looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes.

"K-Kaito... they took him away," she whispers. "He... he tried to fight back."

Of course he did. The kid had guts.

"Where?" Itachi asks, his voice steady but firm.

The girl hesitates, glancing nervously toward a heavy iron door at the far end of the corridor. "T-There... but the bad people go in there too."

You follow her gaze, a deep frown settling on your face. That door reeks of trouble.

Itachi's gaze flickers toward the door, then back to you. His expression is unreadable, but you know him well enough to recognize when he's already calculating the best course of action.

"We'll handle it," he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. Then, to the children, he says, "Stay together. Move when I say."

"I'll take lead?" you ask, flashing him a cocky smirk, though there's a sharp edge beneath it.

Itachi doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he watches you—assessing, considering. Then, finally, he exhales a quiet sigh. "Don't do anything reckless."

"Oh, please," you whisper back, already stepping forward. "When have I ever—"

The metallic door burst apart in an explosive display, shards of metal flying in every direction. You barely leap back in time, the force sending debris and dust scattering through the air.

Chaos erupts. The children, frozen in fear just moments ago, finally start screaming—bolting toward the only exit, the way you came.

You don't hesitate. The moment smoke pours out from the doorway, you activate your Byakugan, scanning through the haze for whatever—or whoever—is coming.

"Step back," Itachi says, his red eyes flaring, spinning.

Your vision sharpens instantly, cutting through the thick smoke like a blade.

Beyond the swirling dust and the echoing cries of the fleeing children, you see them—figures emerging from the darkness. At least half a dozen. Some masked, others not, all armed. Their movements are tense, purposeful. These aren't just caretakers caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. These are operatives.

Trained. Ready. Waiting.

Your lips curl into something between amusement and annoyance. "Huh," you exhale. "Guess they were expecting us."

"Or someone else," Itachi murmurs. His tone is calm—too calm—but you catch the way his fingers twitch slightly, a silent warning.

You roll your shoulders, adjusting your stance. "So, how do you wanna do this?"

Itachi doesn't answer with words. Instead, his hands flicker into seals. In an instant, his form shimmers—and then there are crows. A hundred, maybe more, exploding outward in a flurry of black feathers. They scatter through the room, disorienting the approaching enemies.

You take a moment to admire him—his movements are swift, calculated, almost mesmerizing in their precision.

So this is the legendary Itachi Uchiha, the one spoken like they had his dick in their mouth. For once, the praise doesn't seem like an exaggeration. You watch as he breathes out a roaring blaze, a crimson inferno swallowing the air. Smoke rises in thick, curling tendrils, painting the battlefield in shades of red and black. And yet, you remain at the back, observing.

It's not that you don't want to fight. You're just... impressed.

Humans are something else.

But admiration can only last so long.

The moment one of the operatives slips past Itachi's assault—ducking under the swirl of crows and fire—you know it's your turn.

Your fingers flex, and in a blur of movement, you strike.

The man barely has time to react before your palm slams into his chest, sending him skidding backward. A sharp wheeze escapes him as he stumbles, his body twitching unnaturally. You don't even need to look to know—your fingers just shut down several of his tenketsu points. He's done.

You exhale slowly, lowering your hand. Right. Back to watching—

Another one lunges.

You duck effortlessly, twisting your body just enough to avoid the blade that whistles past your ear. Then, without even activating your Byakugan, you pivot—your leg sweeping out in a brutal arc. Your attacker's feet leave the ground.

A dull thud.

They don't get back up.

Itachi spares you a single glance mid-movement. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable. Perhaps he's reevaluating something. Then, just as quickly, he turns away. The fight isn't over yet.

"Don't move or— his head is off" A man stands out from the rest exclaim. In his arm was some sort of weapon, a kunai. On the other was none other than Kaito, he looks beaten.

Kaito's small body trembles, his breath coming in ragged gasps. There's blood smeared across his cheek, a deep bruise forming just under his eye. The kunai presses into the soft skin of his throat, and you see him flinch.

Itachi doesn't move—yet. But his Sharingan spins, analyzing every detail. The angle of the blade, the pressure applied, the minute shifts in the captor's stance. He could end this in a second.

The man's grip tightens ever so slightly. He's nervous. His pulse is erratic, his chakra fluctuating—unstable. He's bluffing, banking on the idea that you care.

"Take one more step," the man snarls, dragging Kaito back. "And I swear—"

"You swear what?"

He falters. It's subtle, but you see it.

Itachi shifts beside you. His voice is quiet, almost bored. "You should know who you're dealing with."

There it is. A fleeting moment—but enough. The man's gaze locks onto the Sharingan.

His breath catches, a strangled wheeze escaping his throat. His body stiffens, kunai slipping from his trembling fingers as the agony sets in, too late for him to resist. He collapses, trapped in the nightmarish grip of Itachi's genjutsu.

Kaito is yanked from his grasp before he even understands what happened.

"Pathetic," you murmur, kicking his unconscious body after getting a hold of Kaito. The boy stares at you, wide-eyed, his hands clenched in the fabric of your dress.

You exhale. Pat his head. "You okay, kid?"

Mission accomplished. Kaito was safely retrieved, and the other children were freed.

Your business with the client comes to an end as she stands before you, tears streaming down her face. Words of gratitude spill from her lips, shaky with emotion, before she hands over the agreed payment.

All the perpetrators were arrested, and with justice served, your client made a bold decision—to take over the adoption center herself. A fresh start, built on genuine care rather than corruption.

Before you leave, you saw Ren, sprinting toward you, his small legs moving as fast as they can. His face is flushed, his eyes wide with something unreadable—hope, maybe?

"(Y/N)!" he calls again, louder this time. When he reaches you, he hesitates for only a second before gripping the edge of your dress.

You glance down at him, brow slightly raised. "What's up, kid?"

His fingers tighten. He takes a shaky breath. "I... I don't want you to go."

Oh.

You blink, caught off guard. Itachi, standing just behind you, watches silently. You don't have to turn to know his eyes are on you, likely waiting to see how you'll respond.

Ren's lip wobbles, but he bites down, determined not to cry. "You said—" His voice wavers. "You said one day, someone would love me unconditionally. That I'd find someone I could call my own." His small fists clench. "But what if I already have?"

This? You weren't prepared for this. Missions, battles, chaos—you could handle those. But this? A kid looking at you like you're something good, something warm, something worth holding onto?

You swallow. "Ren..."

He sniffles. "Can I stay with you?"

You avert your intense eyes at Itachi, pleading for some kind of help. You dont know how to handle this. Babylonian kids are ruthless, not cute at all! But these human children—this is uncharted territory. Help!

Itachi meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he just looks at you—then at Ren, then back at you. His lips part slightly, then press together again, as if carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he exhales quietly. "Ren," he starts, his voice as calm as ever. "You deserve a home. A real one."

Ren's grip on your dress doesn't loosen. "I know," he mumbles. "But..." His big, pleading eyes flicker back to you. "I want her to be my home."

What the hell?

Itachi studies you again. You can feel the weight of his stare, like he's searching for something—maybe even testing you. Then, in a rare move, he steps in, placing a gentle hand on Ren's shoulder.

"There are people here who can take care of you," he says. "People who will make sure you're safe, who will love you the way you deserve to be loved." His voice is steady, unwavering, but softer than usual. "You won't be alone."

Ren sniffles. "But what if I never see her again?"

Itachi doesn't look at you this time. He just answers, like he already knew this question was coming.

"Then she'll find you."

"We'll come visit you, Ren" You smile, emphasising 'we' as you give a squished look to Itachi.

Itachi doesn't react at first. Just a slow, deliberate blink—like he's processing the fact that you just casually volunteered both of you for future visits.

Ren, however, brightens instantly. His small hands tighten on your skirt before he finally lets go, stepping back with a hopeful look. "Promise?"

You nod without hesitation. "Promise."

Itachi exhales quietly, barely audible. Then, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he concedes. "...We will."

Ren grins, wiping at his tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his worn-out shirt. "Then I'll be waiting!"

As you and Itachi turn to leave, you swear you catch the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips. " Well, what a wonderful honeymoon, huh?" you rock on your heels.

"Hn." Itachi glances at you from the corner of his eye, hands slipping into his sleeves.

You can't help but smirk. "Come on, don't act like you didn't have fun."

He doesn't reply immediately, but you catch the subtle shift in his posture—relaxed, at ease. Finally, he speaks, voice quiet but firm.

"Mission accomplished."

You roll your eyes, stretching your arms above your head. "Ugh, you're so boring." Then, with a sly grin, you lean in just slightly. "Admit it, Uchiha. You enjoyed playing house with me."

His gaze flickers to you, unreadable as ever. A beat of silence passes before he looks ahead again. "You're unbearable."

You laugh, nudging his shoulder as you both walk away from the scene.

Itachi is finally home. Back at the hideout with you. After reporting to Pain, he wastes no time heading straight for the shared bathrooms on his floor.

With only a towel hanging loosely around his waist, he leans over the sink, splashing cool water onto his face. A few rinses, slow and deliberate, before he decides it's enough.

Itachi's gaze flickers to the mirror, catching the reflection of a familiar figure. Tobi stands there, leaning casually against one of the shower stalls, arms crossed over his chest. His presence is uncharacteristically silent, making the atmosphere feel heavier than usual.

"So," He takes a note how Tobi has dropped his playful act "How was your date with (y/n)?"

Itachi doesn't react immediately. He finishes drying his face with the towel before meeting Tobi's gaze through the mirror.

"Hn," he exhales, nonchalant as ever.

Tobi's visible eye narrows, his fingers drumming idly against his arm. "That long of a pause? Must've been something."

Silence.

Tobi tilts his head, watching. "You know, Itachi, I've seen you go on countless missions. You always come back the same. Unbothered. Unshaken." He takes a step forward, his voice lowering. "But this time... you seem different."

Itachi finally turns to face him, his expression composed. "Is that so?"

Obito chuckles, though there's no humor in it. "You're more fun when you pretend to be oblivious."

Another pause. Then, Itachi speaks, his tone even. "The mission was completed. That's all that matters."

Obito hums, unconvinced. "Right. Of course. And yet..." His eye gleams with something unreadable. "I wonder if that's really all there is to it."

Itachi doesn't dignify him with a response. He simply turns away, grabbing his clothes and making his way toward the exit.

Obito watches him go, something eerily knowing in his silence.

You sit on the edge of your bed, towel draped around your shoulders, fingertips absentmindedly playing with the damp ends of your hair. A grin refuses to leave your face.

It's ridiculous, really—feeling this giddy over something that wasn't even real. But even if it was just an act, just part of the mission, it was... nice. A glimpse into something you'd never have, a life far removed from the chaos you've known.

Still, there's a part of you that's content. This wasn't some far-off dream—it actually happened. You got to experience it, if only for a short while. And for now, that's enough.

You lean back against your bed, fingers absentmindedly tracing your wet strands of hair.

Itachi Uchiha, huh?

You never thought much about romance—real romance, anyway. Your life didn't exactly allow for such distractions. But the way he played along so effortlessly, the way his fingers had interlocked with yours like it was second nature... it made you wonder. If things were different—if you weren't who you were, and he wasn't who he was—would you have actually pursued something like that?

A soft scoff leaves your lips. What a ridiculous thought.

Still, you can't shake the warmth lingering in your chest.

Just this once, you allow yourself to enjoy the memory without overanalyzing it.