Plotting Mischief

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In the heart of a hidden base, the stone walls echoed an unnatural silence. An ominous feeling hung in the air as Akatsuki's leader, Itachi, brooded in his throne. His silhouette was a symphony of darkness against the stone, his figure radiating power and control. His eyes, vibrant with the swirling pattern of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, held a palpable rage.

Orochimaru, with his pale skin glowing in the dim light, knelt before him. A mischievous smile played on his lips, an eerie contrast to the room's tense atmosphere. There was a feline grace in the way Orochimaru moved, a veneer of menace hidden behind his serpentine gaze.

On Itachi's side stood Obito, his Sharingan eyes catching the torchlight. A seemingly disinterested spectator in the ongoing drama, he stood tall, his gaze passive yet attentive. His posture was relaxed, but the tension in his hands belied the calm façade.

The tension in the room was broken as Itachi's voice reverberated against the stone walls. His tone was low and dangerous, laced with fury. "Are you certain?" he questioned, his gaze fixed on Orochimaru. The venom in his voice was unmistakable.

Orochimaru, his smile unwavering, kept his gaze lowered. "Yes, Itachi-sama," he responded, his voice carrying a gleeful undertone. "See for yourself." He brought his hands together, forming a series of handseals with fluid precision. Slapping his palm onto the stone floor, the room vibrated with chakra.

The base erupted in a dreadful tremor as a coffin broke through the cold, grey stones of the floor. As the lid was pushed open, an elderly man stepped out. His graying hair, flinty eyes, and an angular face void of emotions were eerily familiar to Itachi. His rage, like a storm fed by strong gusts, intensified with every passing second, the stormy color of his eyes swirling in their sockets.

"Danzo!" He spat out the name as if it were a curse. The single word echoed in the cavernous room, causing a ripple of unease.

The man named Danzo, the walking corpse, turned to face the leader of Akatsuki. "Itachi," he replied, his voice betraying no hint of the fear that should have gripped him in the face of the young shinobi who had brought him down.

"Tell him." Orochimaru's voice, filled with mirthful satisfaction, sliced through the heavy tension in the room.

Danzo's face twisted into a scowl. "Tell him what?" His voice was as hard as granite, his glare as sharp as a kunai.

Itachi, not distracted by the banter, focused his attention on the elder shinobi. "Did you kill Sasuke?" He asked, his tone icy, the words more of an accusation than a question.

Danzo snorted at the question, "I did not." He retorted dismissively, as though the mere suggestion was preposterous.

A gasp slipped past Itachi's lips, a small crack in his stoic facade. He slumped back in his throne, his face paling at the unexpected revelation. "Did you order anyone to kill him?" He demanded, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of a thousand thunderclaps.

"No," came the dry response from Danzo.

Itachi dug deeper, a glimmer of hope breaking through his despair. "Did Hiruzen kill him?"

Again, Danzo shook his head. "Not as far as I know."

As soon as the last syllable slipped from Danzo's lips, Orochimaru struck his hand against the floor once more. Another coffin rose from the ground, and a second elder man stepped forth, his long white beard standing in stark contrast to the dark interior of the room.

"Hiruzen Sarutobi," Itachi acknowledged, his voice laden with anticipation and dread. He repeated his interrogation, his gaze never leaving the newly risen figure. But the former Hokage only echoed Danzo's words, leaving Itachi clutching at straws.

Itachi's onyx gaze landed on Obito, his voice echoing through the chamber, reverberating against the damp stone walls. "Who killed my brother?" His tone was a deadly whisper, icy, filled with promise of eternal torment.

Obito, whose tall figure had been towering in the corner of the room, suddenly knelt on the ground, the torchlight casting a flickering shadow against his face. "Please forgive me, Itachi-sama," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I... I do not know."

Then Itachi's focus turned to Orochimaru, who was still kneeling before his throne, his pale skin glowing in the eerie half-light of the chamber. "Why did you ask in the first place?" The question caught everyone off-guard, causing a palpable shift in the room. After all, Orochimaru, without any apparent reason, had asked Danzo why he had killed Sasuke. If everyone already assumed that Danzo was the killer, and Orochimaru went out of his way to ask him, then it suggested he had his doubts.

Orochimaru's lips twisted into a wider grin. "As usual, you are sharp, Itachi-sama." The serpentine shinobi praised. His voice held a level of admiration that was as uncharacteristic as it was insincere.

With a wave of his hand, Itachi dismissed the flattery, his eyes narrowing. "Drop the flattery. Answer!" His voice was a command, an order that demanded immediate compliance.

Orochimaru bowed his head in acknowledgment. "As you wish, Itachi-sama. Before the...incident," He paused, clearly referring to the Uchiha Massacre, "Danzo and I collaborated on numerous projects. I understood his motivations, his thought processes. It made no sense to me that he would eliminate Sasuke, a mere child, and risk losing you, a critical ally to Konoha. It would have been a disastrous strategic move. Hence, I summoned him via Edo Tensei to verify my suspicions. As anticipated, he was not behind Sasuke's demise."

Itachi digested this information, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his throne. His Sharingan spun, the wheels within the wheels spinning at a frenetic pace. "Then who did it?" His words were devoid of any emotion, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of feelings waging a war within him.

Orochimaru lifted his gaze to meet Itachi's, a cunning smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Someone within Konoha, that is for certain." His voice was full of dark amusement. The revelation did little to appease Itachi, instead further fueling his brewing storm of anger and despair.

"Itachi-sama," Orochimaru continued, reveling in the dramatic tension he'd orchestrated, "You should be asking not who, but why. Why would someone want Sasuke dead? And why would they allow Danzo to take the fall?"

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