Uchiha Itachi stood quietly in front of the gate of the Konoha Military Police Headquarters, watching as various Uchiha clan members came and went. He didn't step inside.
Though this wasn't his teacher's home, and though his father had made it clear he didn't want Itachi associating with Uchiha Kai, Itachi had questions only Kai could answer—questions born from the battlefield, from doubt, and from his own awakening perception.
Itachi had carefully chosen this time, knowing his father wouldn't be present at the headquarters today. He hoped to speak to the man some called a hero of the last war—a man who had once been his instructor, however briefly.
Just as Itachi continued to wait in silence, the front doors opened. Uchiha Kai emerged, walking beside another clan member. The cold, composed aura that surrounded him was unmistakable.
Itachi lowered his head respectfully, not daring to meet his teacher's eyes. He could feel Kai's gaze nonetheless—sharp and distant.
"Why are you here?" Kai's voice was calm but edged with suspicion. "Does the clan head know you're visiting?"
"My father is unaware, sir," Itachi answered without raising his head. "I came of my own accord. Forgive me if I've troubled you."
Kai frowned slightly. The boy's attitude was irreproachable, but his presence here—and his use of the word "teacher" in public—irked him. Fuyake had been very clear about wanting no further instruction between them. Was this Itachi's naïveté, or a calculated move?
Kai sighed. The boy was already here—he couldn't just ignore him.
"If you have a question, ask it," Kai said, folding his arms. "I'll answer if I feel like it."
"Yes, sir. I've been thinking… about war," Itachi said quietly. "Why do people fight? Why does hatred persist? And… what happened between you and my father…"
"Enough," Kai interrupted him. "Chuan—handle the assignment. I'll meet you later. Itachi, come with me."
"Yes, sir," Chuan replied with a nod.
Kai walked off without waiting. Itachi followed closely behind, the two moving silently into the wooded grove adjacent to the police headquarters.
Kai knew this forest well—it was where he had once ambushed another Uchiha during internal clan strife. And it was here he'd first seen the terrible potential of the Mangekyō Sharingan in others. This place was steeped in memory and conflict.
He stopped at a small clearing.
"Say what you came to say," Kai said curtly, his back still turned.
Itachi hesitated, then spoke: "I haven't had a chance to visit you since my father asked you to teach me. But I have many questions—questions only someone who's seen war up close can answer. You were there. You fought. You survived. So I ask you, Sensei… what do you think of war?"
Kai turned slightly, studying the boy.
He remembered how, even at seven, Itachi had sensed the growing divide between the Uchiha and the village. The boy had an uncanny ability to think beyond the narrow views of the clan—a trait that both impressed and worried him.
But his understanding of war? That was another matter.
"You think war is caused by hatred?" Kai asked.
"Yes," Itachi replied firmly. "I've seen it myself. Hatred passed down, enemy to enemy. Doesn't it all come from people failing to understand one another?"
"No," Kai said flatly. "War isn't born from hatred. Hatred is just a tool."
Itachi blinked, caught off guard.
"You've heard that from the Hokage, haven't you?" Kai continued coldly. "From Sarutobi's soft-spoken philosophy. But war is not about emotions. It's about interests. It's about control."
"I… don't understand."
"You're still a child. Of course you don't," Kai said, shaking his head. "But listen carefully. War is the continuation of politics by other means."
Itachi looked stunned. "Politics?"
"Yes," Kai said. "When two powers—villages, nations, clans—can't achieve their goals through diplomacy or manipulation, they resort to violence. War is a method. Hatred is the fuel, but not the cause. The true cause is always power. Territory. Control. Stability. Or the illusion of it."
Itachi remained silent, absorbing the words.
"Hokage, Kazekage, Raikage—it doesn't matter," Kai went on, voice like steel. "They represent political structures that will always protect their own interests. The Uchiha are no different. Your father knows this—he just won't say it out loud."
"Then… everything I believed…" Itachi's voice trailed off.
Kai's expression softened only slightly.
"You're too naïve," he said. "And your father knows it. That's why he kept you away from me. He's afraid I'd teach you things that the Hokage and Shisui have worked hard to keep from you."
He turned to leave.
But Itachi stepped forward suddenly, bowing deeply. "Please… even if you don't recognize me as your student… please teach me."
Kai paused, looking down at the boy's form.
Stubborn. Intense. Too intense.
"Why should I bother?" Kai muttered. "You're still caught between their ideals and your own doubt."
"I want to understand," Itachi said without lifting his head.
Kai smirked faintly.
"Very well," he said. "But don't call me sensei. I didn't accept you as my student."
"Then… as a shinobi," Itachi said, "please help me see what's beyond the surface."
Kai narrowed his eyes.
He had said too much. Planted a seed.
Whether it would grow into a weapon, a shield, or a curse… only time would tell.