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Hitoshi sat at his desk in the back of the classroom, chin propped in his hand, eyes half-lidded as the teacher droned on. The lesson barely registered, his attention wandering, but that was nothing new. Life at UA had become strangely routine, and while he respected the process, the itch for action never fully went away. Old habits, as always, were hard to shake.
Out of nowhere, the sharp sound of alarms blaring through the school jolted him back to the present. Red warning lights pulsed, throwing the classroom into an eerie glow. The students around him gasped, whispers of confusion quickly turning to hushed panic.
“Everyone, stay inside,” the teacher instructed, his voice firm. “Stay in your seats until further notice.”
Hitoshi remained where he was, leaning back in his chair. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something unusual outside the window—a dark, shadowed figure moving with terrifying precision across the school grounds. His heart skipped a beat. That kind of stealth, that specific grace… It couldn’t be.
But he knew better than to doubt himself. His instincts hadn’t dulled, even in this life.
Without a second thought, he was on his feet, ignoring the startled cries from his classmates. He sprinted out of the room, weaving through the hallways.
When he burst through the school’s side doors and out onto the training grounds, the scene before him was exactly what he feared. There, moving silently, was Itachi Uchiha, kunai in hand, his arm poised mid-swing to cut Aizawa’s throat.
Hitoshi’s old voice snapped back in full force, honed and edged with authority.
“Weasel, stop!”
The command cracked through the air with the bite of his ANBU Black Ops days. Itachi froze, his blade halted a mere inch from Aizawa’s neck, and leaped back. For a brief second, silence blanketed the scene. Hitoshi could feel Aizawa’s shocked gaze on him, the questions practically buzzing in the air.
Itachi stared at him, surprise flickering over his young face. Thirteen, maybe fourteen—much younger than the Itachi he’d known in his past life. His eyes narrowed as he took in Hitoshi’s appearance, recognition gradually settling in.
“Senpai?” Itachi’s voice held a note of disbelief, uncertainty.
Hitoshi steadied himself, exhaling sharply. His tone remained clipped, professional. “Mission report.”
“Chakra seal mistake,” Itachi replied, his voice low. “I was brought here.”
A long sigh escaped Hitoshi as he absorbed this. It seemed an accidental chakra seal had transported Itachi into this world. A far cry from any intentional mission, but still dangerous if misunderstood by the heroes here. He felt Aizawa’s gaze on him, unyielding, a silent demand for answers. But there were more pressing concerns.
Itachi’s sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, lingering warily on the pro heroes nearby. He seemed tense, wary of everyone around him. Hitoshi caught this and gave a quick, calm order to keep the situation from escalating.
“Stand down, Weasel. They are not enemies.”
With that, Itachi moved closer, his speed blurring, a movement so fast only Hitoshi could fully track it. In a heartbeat, Itachi was at his side, close enough that Hitoshi could make out his hand signs. He recognized them instantly—a silent query, a form of ANBU communication they had used long ago.
Safe? Itachi’s fingers signaled. Hitoshi noted the faint worry in Itachi’s expression. A surprising show of concern. How cute.
Hitoshi gave a small nod. Itachi visibly relaxed.
“Hitoshi…” Aizawa’s voice cut through, tense and guarded. His hand hovered by his capture weapon, eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “Explain. Now.”
Hitoshi looked at Aizawa with a casual shrug, giving his best neutral expression. “Itachi isn’t an enemy,” he assured. But he knew that answer wasn’t enough. There’d be no getting around the explanations they would need, and he was prepared. He only hoped he could keep Itachi under control long enough to avoid any misunderstandings.
Hours later, Hitoshi found himself sitting in Principal Nezu’s office, with Detective Tsukauchi and Aizawa present, both men watching him and Itachi with open suspicion.
Itachi, true to form, kept close to him, shadowing his every move, his loyalty unwavering. Like a soldier. A silent but unmistakable guard.
“Itachi, sit down,” Hitoshi commanded, the only way to getting him to sit. Itachi complied, though his vigilant gaze remained locked on the others in the room.
Detective Tsukauchi’s eyes flickered with intrigue and unease. “You seem to have a considerable level of… influence over him, Hitoshi,” he observed, suspicion evident in his tone.
When Tsukauchi turned to Itachi, the questions started, each met with a short, guarded response. “Your name?”
“Weasel,” Itachi responded calmly.
Tsukauchi’s eyebrows rose. “And who do you answer to?”
“Hound.” Itachi replied without missing a beat, his voice firm.
The room went silent for a moment. Nezu’s ears perked up, Aizawa’s expression hardened. “And who, exactly, is Hound?” Tsukauchi asked, his eyes narrowing.
Itachi’s gaze shifted to Hitoshi, as if silently seeking permission. Hitoshi gave a small, subtle nod, and Itachi finally pointed to him, indicating Shinso. “Hound.”
The suspicion in the room thickened, almost palpable. Hitoshi could feel the weight of Aizawa’s intense scrutiny on him, but he gave no further explanation. At least, none that would fully satisfy them.
Tsukauchi pressed on, “And what’s your actual name?”
Itachi paused again, looking once more to Hitoshi, unwilling to speak without his approval. Hitoshi nodded once more. With that silent confirmation, Itachi finally spoke.
“Itachi Uchiha.”
Another heavy silence. The doubt and wariness in the room grew with every vague answer, each incomplete piece of the story. But the more they asked, the more Hitoshi deflected with half-answers and calm indifference.
By the end of the long questioning session, Tsukauchi, Aizawa, and Nezu had only received a series of evasive responses, uncooperative sarcasm, and a refusal to provide anything concrete.
Hours later, as they finally left the office, Hitoshi could tell from Aizawa’s grim expression that the man had developed a pounding headache over this mess. He’d have to deal with the fallout later, but for now, he simply gave Aizawa a quick, innocent grin and a shrug, feigning ignorance of the growing storm around him.