Ch 164

I always thought my will was unshakable, the one thing no one could take from me. But then, all the trials and tribulations came my way, all the people who opposed my happiness. 

Even steel bends under the right pressure, and I'd met people whose resolve could eclipse mine without effort. 

It was humbling in a way I didn't enjoy. Still, I clung to what was left of that inner strength, the stubborn flame that kept burning. 

Survival had always been the easiest answer. Live because living was instinct. Keep moving because stopping meant dying. 

But survival alone was a hollow thing, a shell that resonated louder the longer I walked with nothing inside it. 

I'd been drifting—wandering aimlessly, simply because there was nowhere I wanted to stay, no purpose strong enough to anchor me. 

A ghost in my own life. 

But then there was him. 

Itachi. 

I didn't know if he meant to change anything. I didn't know if he intended to be the one thing that cut through whatever I'd wrapped myself in. 

Maybe he didn't. Maybe it was just who he was. The quiet, tragic, brilliant hero who would always influence anyone he'd encounter. 

Whether he knew what he was doing or not, he'd given me something I'd been starving for. 

A reason.

A direction. 

A spark of want. 

Not for him, though that too was a selfish desire of mine. 

But for myself. 

For a future that wasn't predetermined by fear or obligation or someone else's expectations. 

I straightened my spine at the thought. 

My life was mine again. My will was mine again. And no person, no ghost of the past, no god perched above the world had the right to take that from me. 

I would live. I would choose. And anyone who tried to stop me would learn just how strong my will truly was. 

I knew that will—this fragile, stubborn insistence on being alive—couldn't end with me. It wasn't something to hoard or guard. It had to be passed on, carried forward, given to someone who still had a future. 

Maybe that was the real reason I was still here. Not just to survive, but to give survival meaning. 

There were people who hadn't deserved their fates. People who should've lived long enough to grow old, to make mistakes, to heal from them. 

I couldn't rewrite their endings, but I could make sure someone else got the chance they never did. 

A life to live. 

How simple it sounded. How simply I think. How impossibly far that had always felt for me. 

I inhaled slowly, deeper than I should have, drawing the air in until my lungs ached. I held it, held it, held it, until the world around me blurred and a faint buzzing filled my head. 

It was like trying to contain the entire weight of my resolve in a single breath, as if releasing it too soon would break whatever decision I had just vowed to keep. 

A hand gripped my shoulder and shook me, hard enough to snap the dizziness. 

"Hey—hey! Ishi!" Jiraiya's voice cut through the haze, rough with alarm. "Are you alright? You just stopped breathing." 

I blinked back into focus, the spinning slowing, the air finally rushing out of me in a shaky exhale. 

Then I looked at him. Looked closely at his expression. At the worry in his face. At the face I had just decided to risk everything for. And something inside me settled. Solidified. 

I smiled at him, a bright, genuine smile I haven't given in a long time. 

"Yeah," I answered, voice as clear as the blue sky. "I've never been better."

Jiraiya let out a long sigh, the kind that came from deep in the chest. 

"You scared the hell out of me," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to ease the tension out of it. 

A small chuckle slipped out of me, light and apologetic. "Sorry. Didn't mean to give you a heart attack." 

But the humor faded quickly, replaced by that tight, urgent feeling curling in my gut. This was it. My last chance—maybe my only chance—to say what needed to be said before the world pulled me in another direction. 

I reached forward before I could lose the nerve and took Jiraiya's hands in mine. His eyes widened, surprise visible, but he didn't pull away. 

"Jiraiya," I began quietly, steadying my breath. "There's something I need to tell you. A secret." 

His expression softened, the concern returning. "Ishi—" 

I shook my head and exhaled a trembling sigh. The words pressed against my tongue, heavy, long overdue. 

"I've made my choices," I tightened my grip. "Whether people liked them or not... they were mine. I chose them." 

My grip then loosened, the truth more freeing than anticipated. 

"And I don't regret a single one. Not one." 

My eyes were determined. 

"But I spent years trying to act like I did. Trying to carry guilt that wasn't mine. Trying to apologize for surviving, for wanting something different, for walking a path no one understood." 

I swallowed hard, feeling my throat burn. 

"And all it did was trap me in the same place. Over and over. Nowhere." 

Jiraiya opened his mouth, breath drawing in for some comforting wisdom, but I lifted one hand, palm out. 

"Let me finish," I said softly but firmly. "Please. I need to say this."

I pause for a moment. 

"I'm going to say something," I continued, "and you're not going to argue with me about it." 

Jiraiya's brows drew together, but he stayed silent. Good. I needed the space to rip this open properly. 

"I'm a terrible person." 

The words tasted sharp, metallic, but they were true. 

"I've kept to myself even when I could've stepped in. Even when I could've saved people. I didn't. I stayed quiet. I hid." 

My throat tightened, but I forced the confession out anyway. 

"I was scared. Scared of what everyone would think if they knew the truth. Scared of the person threatening me. Scared of losing whatever fragile place I had in this world." 

I looked down for a moment, watching our hands, how small mine looked in his. Remembering my childhood. 

"I was terrified that if I made one wrong move, I'd never be able to go back." 

A hollow laugh slipped out. It wasn't funny but the irony stung. 

"But none of that matters anymore. Because I've accepted it. All of it. My role. My actions. Who I am." 

I finally lifted my gaze to him. 

"I'm not pretending anymore." 

Jiraiya's mouth parted, some soft reassurance already forming, but I pressed on before he could say it. 

"You know what's worse?" I asked. "I'm worse than Sasuke." 

His reaction was immediate—confusion, disbelief—but I didn't let him interrupt. 

"While both of us walked away on our own, he was basically bribed. Promised power, answers, revenge handed to him on a silver platter if he just followed the breadcrumbs. That's temptation. That's manipulation." 

I shook my head. 

"But me? I went there without any guarantee. Without certainty I'd ever get what I wanted." 

I exhaled slowly. 

"In the end, we both left for selfish reasons. His more than mine... but not by much. And I don't get to pretend otherwise anymore."

I smiled a sad smile, I only hoped that Jiraiya cherished me as much as I did him. If I was somehow mistaken, then I can only pray. 

"I knew what I was doing when I went to Orochimaru. I knew he was obsessed with the Uchiha. That he would take me in without hesitation. That he'd see value in me, even if no one else did at the time." 

The memories pressed in, they weren't good ones, but they were mine. I had made them, and I will make more. 

"And there was a chance, just a small chance, that he would treat me well. Not out of kindness, but because there's still a part of him... some tiny, buried part... that remembers how to be human." 

I let my gaze drop, thinking of the strange contradictions that made up that man. 

"Somewhere in there, he still has emotions. Still feels empathy, even if he hates himself for it." 

I paused. 

My heart started racing, thudding too loudly in my chest, like it wanted to burst out before the words did. 

Jiraiya waited, his grip steady, his expression unreadable. After a long breath, I looked up again. 

"Do you know how I knew all that?" 

He opened his mouth, but I didn't give him the chance. I leaned in slightly, voice dead serious. 

"I know because I've seen it." 

His brows knit together, confusion visible in his eyes. 

"I know the future, Jiraiya," I confessed. 

It slipped free for his ears to hear. 

"I've been able to see it since I was a child." 

The silence that followed suffocating, but if anyone had said the same to me, I would also be in shock. 

"That's how I knew. That's how I survived. That's how I made every choice that led me here."

A/n Well... The cat's out of the bag. Enjoy