Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 99

The gates of Konoha came into view just as dawn began to stain the horizon crimson and gold. The morning mist still clung to the streets, curling around the rooftops like faint smoke. Itachi moved silently through it, his cloak swaying with each measured step. The familiar scent of rain and leaves greeted him, but his mind was still half in the burning ruins of Orochimaru’s laboratory.

He passed the watchtower, nodded to the sentries, and they returned the gesture immediately — a mark of respect, and perhaps fear. The Pottaru heir was not a man to be questioned.

Without stopping, he made his way directly to the Hokage’s tower.


The Hokage’s office smelled faintly of tea and old scrolls. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, catching the smoke of a half-burned incense stick. Hiruzen Sarutobi looked up from his desk as Itachi entered, his expression shifting from mild surprise to relief.

“Itachi,” the old man said, setting aside a report. “You’ve returned sooner than expected.”

Itachi bowed slightly. “The mission was concluded.”

Hiruzen gestured for him to continue. “Sit, then. Tell me what you found.”

Itachi remained standing. His tone was calm, precise — the voice of a soldier delivering facts stripped of emotion.
“The site was not a village. It was a front — one of Orochimaru’s laboratories. There were no civilians, only captives and subordinates. Most of his forces have scattered. Orochimaru himself… fled.”

The Hokage’s brows rose slightly. “Fled?”

“Yes,” Itachi confirmed. “He fought me briefly but chose retreat over confrontation. He left behind his experiments, his research, and hundreds of children — victims of his tests.”

The Hokage’s pipe paused midway to his lips. His eyes darkened with sadness. “Children… he was experimenting again?”

“Yes,” Itachi said. “But his operations there are finished. The base is destroyed. The captives are being treated.”

The old Hokage leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long breath. Relief softened his features, though weariness still lingered in his eyes. “You’ve done well, Itachi. Very well. Orochimaru’s cruelty would have worsened with time — but you stopped him before he could harm more. The children will live because of you.”

Itachi inclined his head. “I only delayed him. My father is ensuring their survival.”

The Hokage smiled faintly. “Your father has been a gift to this world since the day he arrived in it. I trust them to his care.”

For the first time, a flicker of warmth passed through Itachi’s eyes. He gave a small nod. “Then my duty here is done.”

“Rest for now,” Hiruzen said kindly. “And tell your family they can be proud. You and your father both.”

Itachi bowed once more before turning to leave. The office fell silent behind him, save for the faint crackle of parchment and the whisper of the Hokage’s thoughts: Harry Pottaru… the healer who rivals miracles.


The streets of Konoha were livelier by the time Itachi reached the Pottaru household. Merchants called out their wares, children darted between stalls, and the world seemed oblivious to the darkness he had just left behind.

When he opened the door, the sound of raised voices greeted him immediately.

“…two days, Tsunade! Two whole days, and not a single message from him!”

“I know, Mikoto, but it’s Harry. When he decides something, not even the Hokage can stop him.”

Itachi stepped into the living room to find Mikoto Pottaru pacing with her arms crossed, and Tsunade seated at the table, a cup of sake in her hand. The moment Mikoto saw him, she stopped mid-step.

“Itachi!” she exclaimed, rushing forward. “You’re back! Thank goodness.”

Tsunade looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern. “You look exhausted, kid. Did you find anything?”

Itachi removed his cloak and hung it on the rack before answering. “Orochimaru’s base has been destroyed. The children he experimented on are alive. Father is there now — healing them.”

Mikoto blinked. “He’s there? That’s where he went?”

Tsunade sighed heavily. “He left without a word. We woke up and he was just… gone. Not even a note.”

Itachi’s lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. “That sounds like him.”

Mikoto frowned, but relief replaced her worry. “Still, he could have told us. I nearly sent out a team to look for him!”

Tsunade leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temple. “I told you, that man doesn’t do ‘farewells.’ He just walks into disaster zones, fixes the impossible, and comes home as if he’d gone for groceries.”

Itachi allowed himself a small chuckle. “You’re not wrong."


Mikoto sat down, her motherly worry still clouding her features. “Is he taking care of himself, at least? He have a habit of doing evening by himself.”

“He is,” Itachi assured her. “He has help. Many of Orochimaru’s former followers — Karin, Suigetsu and Jugo — are assisting him. They’ve chosen to help him heal the children instead of continuing their master’s work.”

Mikoto stood and placed a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder. “You did well, Itachi. You both did. I’m proud of you.”

Itachi inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Now,” she said, her tone softening, “go rest. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I haven’t,” Itachi admitted dryly.

Tsunade chuckled. “Then I’ll take the mother’s advice for once. Sleep, Itachi. If Harry’s there, the children are in the best hands imaginable.”

Itachi hesitated, looking toward the window where the sun was now rising higher. “Yes… I know.”

As he turned to leave, Tsunade called out behind him, her voice softer. “Tell him, when he gets back, that he’s not allowed to vanish without notice again. Some of us like to keep our blood pressure stable.”

Itachi’s mouth twitched in a rare, almost amused smile. “I’ll pass along the message.”



The evening sun cast its golden glow across the Pottaru Estate, painting long shadows over the garden stones and the polished veranda. The house, silent for many days, was now alive again. Servants whispered of Itachi’s return; birds gathered in the trees as if greeting a missing part of the family.

Inside the main hall, Nawaki ’s laughter echoed like the chiming of a bell.


Mikoto knelt near the sliding doors, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Slowly, Nawaki. Hold on to the wall if you need to.”

The little boy wobbled as he placed one hand against the painted wall and the other on the edge of a low table. He was still unsteady, his legs trembling slightly under his small frame, but he was determined.

“I do it!” Nawaki grunted, puffing out his cheeks as he let go for a brief moment. His steps were short, uneven — but they were steps.

From the other side of the room, Tsunade watched, her arms crossed, a faint grin curving her mouth. “That stubbornness runs in the family,” she remarked.

Itachi, standing by the doorway, watched the scene with quiet pride. “It does,” he said softly.

The child turned, eyes lighting up when he saw his brother. “Itachi!”

Before anyone could stop him, Nawaki started toddling forward — half walking, half stumbling — straight into his brother’s arms. Itachi caught him effortlessly, his usually composed face melting into a rare, gentle smile.

“You’ve grown stronger,” Itachi murmured, setting him back on his feet. “Soon you’ll be running circles around all of us.”

“I can!” Navaki declared proudly, wobbling again.

Everyone laughed.


Later that afternoon, Sujin, one of the house’s caretakers, entered carrying something curious — a polished wooden walker enchanted with faint runes along its frame. The wheels hummed softly as she placed it before Nawaki.

“I made this for you, little one,” she said with a wink. “It will help you walk until you can do it all by yourself.”

Navaki’s eyes widened with wonder. “Mine?”

Heidi smiled. “All yours.”

He grabbed the handles and began to push it forward. The walker glided smoothly, within seconds, Nawaki was zooming through the living room, giggling wildly.

“Nawaki, not too fast!” Mikoto called, half-laughing, half-concerned.

But Nawaki only grinned. “Training Itachi!”

Itachi couldn’t help but chuckle. For the first time since returning from the ruins of Orochimaru’s lab, his chest felt lighter. The sight of his little brother chasing sunlight down the corridor washed away days of death and darkness.


That evening, as twilight deepened over the estate, Naruto stopped by. He looked older somehow — taller, a new scar on his sleeve from some mission gone wrong, and the smell of wind and steel clinging to him.

He grinned the moment he saw Itachi. “Welcome back, big guy! You finally done beating up villains?”

Itachi allowed himself a small smirk. “For now.”

Naruto gave Navaki a playful salute. “And you, little man! You walking already?”

“I running!” Nawaki said proudly, pushing his enchanted walker in a circle around Naruto’s legs.

Naruto pretended to stumble dramatically. “Whoa! He’s faster than me already!”

Laughter filled the house again. Even Tsunade smiled from her seat near the shoji doors, sipping her tea. “Maybe next time you can take him on a mission, Naruto.”

Naruto scratched his head sheepishly. “He’d probably finish it before I did.”


Night came softly to Konoha. Crickets chirped outside, and the lamps glowed warmly in the hallway. After everyone had gone to bed, Itachi sat alone in his room, the enchanted mirror resting on the low table before him.

He touched its surface, whispering the words of activation.
“Father.”

The mirror rippled like a pond touched by rain. Then, slowly, Harry Pottaru’s face appeared — weary but calm. His surroundings were dim, filled with the faint hum of magic and the scent of herbs. Behind him, wooden clones moved silently, tending to sleeping children.

“Itachi,” Harry greeted warmly. “You’re back in Konoha.”

“Yes,” Itachi said, bowing his head slightly. “The Hokage was pleased with the report. He sends his thanks for your work.”

Harry smiled faintly. “I imagine he would. Orochimaru’s shadow has hung over this land too long.”

Itachi’s eyes flicked toward the sleeping Nawaki in the next room. “How are things there?”

Harry leaned back, his face softening. “Better. The children are recovering. Even the ones who were on the brink of death are healing faster than expected.” He paused, then added, “And Kimimaro — one of Orochimaru’s loyal subordinates — is also here. He had the same lung condition you once had.”

That caught Itachi’s attention. “The same as mine?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. I recognized the symptoms immediately. His lungs were collapsing, his chakra pathways fraying. I gave him the potion I developed for you.”

Itachi’s expression shifted subtly. “The same one that cured me.”

“The same,” Harry confirmed. “It wasn’t easy for him — the process nearly broke his body. But by morning, he was breathing cleanly again.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed slightly. “He survived?”

“More than survived,” Harry said with quiet pride. “He’s working with me now, helping the children. For all his loyalty to Orochimaru, he’s not blind to goodness when he sees it.”

Itachi absorbed that in silence for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Then perhaps there is hope for redemption even among the serpent’s followers.”

Harry’s voice softened. “There is always hope, Itachi. Sometimes it only takes one act of compassion to shatter years of darkness.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The mirror shimmered softly between them, linking two worlds — one of healing, one of home.

Finally, Itachi broke the silence. “Mother and Aunt Tsunade were worried when you left without a word.”

Harry chuckled quietly. “They always are. But you can tell them this — I’ll return soon. Once the last child is safe.”

“I will,” Itachi said. “Take care, Father.”

“And you, my son,” Harry replied, his image fading into the mirror’s still surface.


Itachi sat for a while longer, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The faces of the children he’d seen in Orochimaru’s lab haunted him still, but his father’s calm words steadied his mind.

In the next room, Nawaki stirred and murmured in his sleep, clutching his little wooden walker as if it were a sword. Itachi smiled faintly, pulling the blanket over him.

Outside, the moonlight washed over the Pottaru Estate, silver and pure.
For the first time in many weeks, Konoha slept in peace.