Chapter 199 : How Do You Have Those Eyes?
A single leaf fell from the canopy. Yellowed and with dry, curled edges, it detached from the branch, fluttered in the air a few times, and slowly spiraled downward.
It drifted between the two figures, passing right through their line of sight and momentarily obscuring their gazes.
The instant the leaf fell out of view, both of them moved.
Soundlessly, they flickered like two shadows beneath the shade of the trees.
Uchiha Itachi tapped his foot against the ground and lunged forward, his speed so great that his heel kicked up a small spray of dirt.
Uchiha Shisui pushed off a thick root and shot forward as well, moving so fast that the trunk of the tree he had been leaning against trembled slightly.
The two silhouettes clashed in the middle of the forest.
*Clang!*
A crisp metallic ring echoed as sparks erupted between them.
Ninja blade met ninja blade. The sound of the clashing edges was sharp and brief, like a small piece of metal striking the ground.
Itachi swung his blade upward in a rising slash, while Shisui pressed his blade downward. The two weapons formed a cross in midair, their edges grinding against each other with a harsh screech.
Then, both simultaneously retracted their weapons and struck again.
*Clang, clang, clang, clang...*
A rapid succession of metallic clashes rang out through the woods. Every strike sent a shower of sparks flying between them, standing out starkly in the dim forest like matches being struck one after another in the dark.
Their figures blurred into two shifting shadows, moving so fast that an ordinary person wouldn't even be able to tell them apart.
They darted through the trees, shifting from one trunk to another, weaving in and out of the dappled sunlight, and leaping from the forest floor to higher vantage points.
Their blades carved streaks of cold light through the air, weaving together into a deadly, gleaming net.
The three tomoe in Itachi's eyes spun rapidly, analyzing Shisui's every movement—the tilt of his shoulders, the twist of his wrists, the angle of his blade. His body reacted instantly to these observations: tilting his head to dodge a slash, stepping sideways to evade a thrust, and leaning back to avoid a horizontal sweep.
Shisui's eyes also bore the three tomoe, spinning just as fast.
He, too, was reading Itachi's movements, predicting his next steps, and calculating his trajectory. His body responded with equal precision; not a single swing was superfluous, and not a single step was wasted.
Both were locked in a pure duel of kenjutsu.
In the hands of a shinobi, a ninja blade was not a samurai sword. It lacked rigid formalities and elaborate schools of style, focusing entirely on practicality and efficiency.
Every strike was aimed at a vital spot—the neck, the chest, the abdomen, the wrists. There were no feints; every single move was designed to draw blood.
The arcs of their blades were short, fast, and direct. From start to finish, they moved in straight lines without any unnecessary flourishes.
Their Sharingan darted rapidly, dissecting every action and anticipating every counterattack.
However, because both were of the Uchiha clan, they were utilizing Uchiha Style Kenjutsu as their foundation. Though they had each adapted the style to fit their own strengths, many of their techniques were fundamentally identical.
Their opening stances were similar, their drawing techniques were similar, and even the angles and force of their swings overlapped significantly.
Their swordsmanship shared the exact same roots. What one knew, the other knew; what one could do, the other could match.
As a result, their duel was a complete stalemate right from the start.
When Itachi thrust his blade, Shisui already knew exactly where it was aimed, preemptively raising his own sword to block it.
When Shisui delivered a slash, Itachi already knew its path, stepping aside just enough to evade it without wasting a single inch of movement.
Every attack fell within the other's predictions, and every defense was exactly as expected.
They exchanged dozens more blows. The sound of clashing steel echoed through the forest like the rapid beating of a small drum, while sparks showered between them like miniature fireworks.
Despite how perilous the fight appeared, their deep understanding of each other's habits meant that every close call was safely neutralized.
Their blades met once more, locking together. They stood face-to-face, less than two feet apart. Itachi could see the three tomoe in Shisui's eyes slowly spinning, while Shisui could see the three tomoe in Itachi's eyes trembling slightly.
Exerting force simultaneously, they pushed off each other, using the recoil of their locked blades to leap backward.
Itachi retreated three steps, his heel catching against a thick root to halt his momentum. Shisui also fell back three steps, his back bumping into a sapling and causing it to sway.
They looked up at the same time, their ninja blades pointed squarely at one another. The faint scratches left on the steel from their fierce clashes caught the sunlight, gleaming like thin white threads.
Both of their gazes were cold. There was no killing intent, but there was absolute resolve.
Shisui let out a breath. His shoulders sank slightly and the muscles in his arms relaxed a fraction, but his fingers remained tightly wrapped around his hilt, his knuckles white.
"You've grown quite a bit, Itachi."
Itachi looked at him, refusing to lower his weapon. The tip of his blade remained aimed directly at Shisui.
His breathing was steady, his chest barely rising and falling, but his gaze had grown even heavier, like a bottomless well.
"I am no longer the person I used to be, Shisui."
Shisui offered a bitter smile and shook his head. He let the tip of his blade dip slightly before raising it once more.
"It seems I won't be able to persuade you."
Itachi didn't reply. His silence was answer enough.
The next instant, the three tomoe in both of their eyes spun simultaneously.
Shisui's free hand suddenly shot up, rapidly weaving a series of hand signs in front of his chest.
His movements were a blur, his fingers leaving afterimages in the air.
Itachi's free hand mirrored the action, weaving the exact same signs at the exact same rhythm, without a fraction of a second's delay.
They completed their hand signs at the exact same moment.
Then, both opened their mouths and exhaled massive waves of roaring flames.
Fire Style: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!
The flames erupted from their mouths, condensing into numerous fireballs that shot toward each other. There were so many of them, each roughly the size of a fist, densely blanketing the space between the two.
The intense heat warped and distorted the air, while the scorching shockwaves flattened the surrounding grass.
The projectiles flew at blinding speeds. All that could be seen were streaks of orange-red light shooting from Shisui toward Itachi, and from Itachi toward Shisui.
The opposing barrages collided in midair. Flames burst outward and sparks scattered, blooming like brilliant orange flowers against the backdrop of the forest.
The concussive force of the explosions swept outward, violently thrashing the grass and shaking loose a cascade of leaves from the canopy above.
At the exact same time, both men ducked low and launched themselves forward, threading through the narrow gaps between the exploding fireballs.
The gaps were incredibly tight—far too narrow for an ordinary person to slip through.
But their bodies were exceptionally agile. With a tilt of the head, a dip of the shoulder, and a twist of the waist, they slipped flawlessly through the fiery maze.
Fireballs grazed past their ears and skimmed over their shoulders, singeing a few strands of hair and scorching the edges of their clothes.
Bursting through the net of flames, they met head-on, their ninja blades clashing once again.
*Clang!*
Sparks flew.
The battle that followed escalated to an even more perilous level.
They were no longer just relying on kenjutsu; they were seamlessly weaving ninjutsu into their strikes.
As they traded sword blows, they used their free hands to form signs, breathed fire from their mouths, and kicked up loose stones from the ground.
Fire Style, Water Style, and Wind Style—a myriad of jutsu were unleashed from their hands, mouths, and feet. While none of the jutsu appeared overwhelmingly destructive, every single one was meticulously aimed to cut off the other's escape routes.
Itachi swung his blade at Shisui's neck. As Shisui tilted his head to dodge, his left hand formed a sign, firing a high-pressure jet of water from his fingertips straight at Itachi's face.
Leaning back to evade the water jet, Itachi smoothly passed his sword from his right hand to his left and delivered a rising slash, forcing Shisui to take a step back.
The moment Shisui retreated, he kicked a stone off the ground, sending it hurtling toward Itachi's chest.
Itachi twisted his body, allowing the stone to graze past his clothes, leaving a streak of gray dust on the fabric.
Even as he dodged, Itachi formed a sign with his left hand, launching a blade of wind from his palm aimed directly at Shisui's calves.
Shisui leaped into the air to avoid the wind blade, spinning mid-flight to bring his sword crashing down toward Itachi's head.
Every movement they made was a lethal strike. Every attack targeted a vital spot, with neither holding back in the slightest.
Blades sliced past necks, missing arteries by a mere inch. Fireballs roared past faces, nearly scorching eyes. Water jets grazed chests, a hair's breadth away from piercing hearts.
Yet, having trained and fought alongside each other countless times, they knew each other's habits intimately.
Shisui knew exactly when Itachi preferred to strike, and Itachi knew exactly when Shisui preferred to weave signs.
Shisui knew the weaknesses of Itachi's ninjutsu, and Itachi knew the blind spots in Shisui's kenjutsu.
I can predict your attacks, and you can predict mine.
Because of this, the battle only appeared to be a deadly struggle on the surface.
A moment later, the two separated once again.
This time, it wasn't a tactical retreat; both had simply exhausted their breath and were forced to pause and recover.
They backed away seven or eight paces, coming to a halt beneath two separate trees. Their ninja blades were still pointed at each other, but the tips trembled slightly—a clear sign that their arm muscles were reaching their limits.
Both were panting heavily.
Itachi's breaths were ragged, his chest heaving. A fine layer of sweat beaded on his forehead, plastering a few damp strands of hair to his skin.
His clothes bore several shallow cuts, his cuffs were slightly charred, and his pant legs were stained with dirt and grass sap.
Shisui was breathing just as hard. Drops of sweat rolled off his chin and landed on his collar, blooming into dark, damp patches.
His clothes were similarly slashed. The hem of his shirt had been singed away, revealing reddened skin underneath, though he remained uninjured.
Shisui looked at Itachi, his expression grave.
"I underestimated you, Itachi."
His voice was breathless, but his words were clear.
"I'm sorry for what comes next, but I have to bring you back."
As he spoke, the three tomoe in his eyes spun, and the pattern shifted.
The three black tomoe merged into a connected shape resembling a shuriken with four blades and a hollow center.
A four-bladed shuriken pattern.
The Mangekyo Sharingan.
Itachi lowered his gaze slightly, his eyelids drooping to conceal the light in his eyes.
His long eyelashes cast a faint shadow over his cheeks.
His expression was perfectly calm, as if he were doing something entirely mundane.
"Shisui."
His voice was soft.
"The truth is... you never truly understood me."
He lifted his head and opened his eyes.
The three tomoe in his eyes had also changed. They morphed into a connected shape resembling a shuriken with three blades and a hollow center.
A three-bladed shuriken pattern.
The Mangekyo Sharingan.
Shisui's expression froze. Staring at the pattern in Itachi's eyes, his pupils shrank violently.
"How do you have those eyes?"
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