Chapter 2
The eve of the hunters' examination had descended upon the boys' dormitory, bringing with it a restless air that refused to settle. Shadows flickered against the candlelit walls as nervous energy crackled through the space, an unspoken tension rippling between the inhabitants. One figure, in particular, moved with relentless urgency—pacing, muttering, the embodiment of anxiety itself.
Itachi lifted his gaze once more, tracking the frenetic motion of his roommate and long-time friend as Juno tread back and forth across the modest expanse of the room. Six deliberate steps and Juno reached the far end, only to turn sharply on his heel and begin again, like a wind-up toy caught in an endless loop.
"You're distracting me, Juno," Itachi stated, his tone level, betraying none of the mounting frustration he felt. Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head back toward the open pages before him, the soft scratching of his pen against paper resuming its steady rhythm. Seated at the academy-issued desk, his posture was that of calm determination, wholly unfazed by the impending trial that loomed over them both.
Juno, on the other hand, was anything but composed.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" Juno suddenly exclaimed, voice rising in near hysteria. "Itachi, seriously—how can you be studying right now? Seriously!"
Itachi sighed, though his expression remained impassive. "Shouldn't I?" he replied, his focus locked onto the aged text before him, the weight of history pressing against his fingertips. Hunters: A History—his chosen companion for the night—offered stories of trials endured, battles won, wisdom etched into its pages. And in this moment, it was far more deserving of his attention than Juno's anxious theatrics.
"You've heard what they're saying, haven't you?" Juno burst out, his voice laced with barely contained panic. "They reckon we'll be facing actual vampires—real vampires, mate! I'm not ready for that."
Itachi, seated at his desk with enviable composure, barely flicked his eyes up from the aged text before him. "I thought that's precisely what you've been training for these last two years at the Hunters' Academy."
Juno let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. "Yeah, but I never thought it'd happen this soon. What if I can't handle it? You reckon those so-called instructors would swoop in and save me? I don't want to die, Itachi—I've got dreams to fulfil, you know."
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Itachi's lips as he calmly turned another page. "I haven't heard of anyone dying in a hunters' exam, so you should be fine."
Juno exhaled heavily and leaned against the bunk bed, his fingers gripping the frame like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. "Yeah, me neither. But still—one has to consider the possibility, right? Truth be told, I never really wanted to come here."
Itachi hesitated, his pen stilling mid-word. That was new. He had always assumed Juno, like everyone else in their class, had chased the academy's promise of prestige, fortune, and the glory of being a hunter. "I see," he said at last, cautious in his response.
Juno sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… I've got two little brothers back home. After my ma was killed by those bloodsuckers, there wasn't anyone left to provide for them except me. That's why I signed up."
Itachi regarded him quietly. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and for the first time, didn't immediately return to his book. He waited—waited for more, sensing that Juno might spill something further.
But the silence stretched.
For a moment, Itachi wondered if Juno expected a confession in return. Some admission, some reason as passionate as his own for embarking on this path. But the truth was simpler—colder. Unlike Juno, Itachi had no burning desire to become a hunter. There was no vengeance, no ambition, no dream.
Yet, it wasn't a choice.
The blood in his veins made the decision for him.
He was the son of the chief of the Uchiha Hunter Clan. His path had been decided the moment he was born.
"You're all cryptic and secretive," Juno muttered, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, "so I won't bother asking about your reasons. Besides, you've got nothing to worry about—someone with your skillset is leagues beyond a rank-red hunter."
Itachi offered a small, measured smile. "Thanks, but you overestimate me."
That night, sleep eluded Itachi. His thoughts twisted around the impending reunion with his family, threading through memories both distant and immediate. Every now and then, Juno's restless shifting punctuated the silence, his anxious murmurs seeping through the dimly lit room.
Morning arrived, and with it came the gathering of candidates. Juno, still brimming with unease, walked beside Itachi as they entered the vast great hall—a place reserved for grand meetings, now repurposed for the solemn occasion ahead.
Itachi's sharp gaze swept across the hall, pausing when it landed on his father, standing tall amidst the hunter lead council. The brief eye contact was fleeting—little more than an acknowledgment—before Itachi turned his attention to the principal, a formidable woman with an air of command, delivering her speech from the raised podium.
"We will be organising you into groups of four," she announced, her voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "The failure of one means failure for all. We will tolerate no foul play. If any of you are frightened—if you doubt your ability to see this through—leave now. The academy will bear no responsibility for your lives once this mission begins."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. A few students, shoulders stiff with hesitation, shuffled toward the exit.
"And let it be clear," she continued, tone sharpening, "this examination is strictly for those eighteen and above. Anyone younger—leave now."
More bodies shifted. The number of candidates thinned slightly.
Then came the next speaker—Itachi's father. His voice was unwavering, his words carrying the weight of experience.
"Weed out the deserters," he declared. "From this moment, every one of you is a rank-white hunter. When you pass, it will simply be made official. Understand this—we will try to save as many of you as possible, but we are short on instructors. Do not count on being rescued."
Beside Itachi, Juno paled considerably, his fingers twitching as he struggled to remain still. If he'd been holding a drink, it would have long since spilled.
Formalities concluded, and at long last, they were permitted to meet their families.
Itachi stepped into a lavish room—a space dripping in wealth and refinement, more opulent than anything he had encountered in his eighteen years. His eyes darted across the rich colours, the intricate patterns woven into the furnishings, but before he could fully take it in, a sudden force crashed into him.
Arms wrapped around his torso, squeezing tightly.
"Itachi!" came the familiar, excitable voice.
He looked down to find his younger brother, clinging to him with unrestrained enthusiasm. Sasuke had always been bold in his affections. He should be turning twelve soon, Itachi noted absently.
Pulling back, Sasuke grinned up at him. "You're going to be a hunter soon! That is so boss!"
Itachi smiled, warmth flickering in his otherwise measured expression.
"Sasuke," Itachi murmured, but his attention snagged elsewhere—movement in his periphery. His gaze flickered up, and his breath caught ever so slightly. Standing there, fragile yet determined, was his mother.
She had come.
He had not expected her; she had been too ill to travel for years, the very thought of long journeys had been deemed impossible. Yet here she was.
"Mother," he greeted, measured and composed despite the stir of emotions within. "You didn't have to push yourself."
"I reasoned that this may be the last time I see you, so I summoned the strength to be here," she replied, stepping forward with a slow, deliberate grace. Time and illness had taken their toll, her features wearied, her frame thinner than he recalled.
Itachi's brow furrowed. "It won't be the last day, Mother."
"Perhaps not," she murmured, reaching out to gently cup his cheek. Her touch was featherlight, cool against his skin. "But I do not dare take that chance. You've lost weight."
Before he could protest, he found himself seated, a steaming bowl of curry rice placed before him—the dish his mother had prepared and carried all this way. Sasuke was already beside him, eyes alight, hands quick to dig in. Their mother's curry rice had always been impossible to resist.
Itachi let his younger brother help himself, not minding in the slightest. As he brought the first spoonful to his lips, the rich, familiar spices flooded his senses. Nostalgia crashed over him, swift and unrelenting. Two years had passed since he last tasted this meal, and now, more than ever, he felt the ache of home.
"I hear your father will be among the examiners this year," his mother remarked. She had settled on the second couch, watching them with quiet observation.
"Yes."
"Do keep an eye on him," she advised. "He has a tendency to go overboard."
Itachi allowed himself a small smile, gaze flicking momentarily away. "I'll try."
Together, he and Sasuke ensured the bowl was emptied, down to the very last grain. When he finally covered the dish and placed it back into her bag, he heard his mother exhale—a slow, weary sound. He turned, catching the shadow of apprehension in her expression.
"I had dearly hoped this day would not come," she murmured, voice subdued.
"Don't worry too much, Mother," Itachi reassured her, yet the tension did not leave her face.
Sasuke, ever the light in dark moments, piped up. "Don't mind her, she says things like that all the time—even at home. But I believe in you, big brother. I know for sure there's not a rank-white hunter stronger than you in this building."
His dark eyes shone with certainty, unshaken in his faith. That unwavering belief—it was something that had always given Itachi solace, a rare comfort.
Itachi chuckled, warmth threading through his amusement. "And how would you know?"
"Because Dad trained you, and he's the strongest hunter in the world!" Sasuke declared, his voice brimming with conviction.
Itachi exhaled softly. If there was anyone Sasuke idolised as much as him, it was their father.
"Alright," he murmured, glancing briefly toward their mother before guiding Sasuke into a quieter corner, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you want to know the first weapon Father ever wielded?"
Sasuke's eyes sparkled with intrigue, the excitement palpable. "What is it?" he asked, leaning in, eager.
Itachi reached into the inner pocket of his coat, fingers grazing metal before retrieving twin daggers—sleek, lethal, steeped in history. He placed them into Sasuke's small hands, watching as his younger brother gazed upon them with reverence.
"They're yours now," Itachi said. "You must take care of them."
"I will! I promise!" Sasuke vowed, gripping the daggers with an almost sacred sense of duty.
"What are you two whispering about over there?" Their mother called, her voice edged with mild suspicion.
"Nothing!" they chorused in perfect unison.
She folded her arms, amusement flickering across her weary features, but chose not to press further.
Itachi's expression turned serious. "Now listen, Sasuke. You must only use them as a last resort—understood?"
Sasuke nodded eagerly. "Understood! Thanks, big brother." He beamed, then lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Itachi in a sudden hug. Itachi couldn't resist the warmth of the moment, a rare smile gracing his lips as he ruffled the dark hair under his chin.
Then came the farewells. One last embrace for his mother, another for Sasuke, before he turned and left, stepping back into the world of the examinees.
The next time he saw Juno was at the hunting grounds—a foreboding place, created a decade ago to serve a dual purpose: prison for vampires, proving grounds for hunters. From the books he'd read, at least a hundred vampires lurked within its walls.
He spotted Juno first by the unmistakable mess of his spiky red hair, and then the pale, freckled face that followed.
Juno caught sight of him, relief flashing across his features as he jogged forward, slightly breathless. "Bloody hell, I'm glad we're on the same team," he said between pants. "Thought for sure we'd be split up."
Itachi smiled slightly, equally relieved. He had no desire to work alongside strangers.
"Juno, do you happen to know the last two members of our team?" he asked as they approached the towering iron gate that marked the entryway to the hunting grounds.
Juno shook his head. "I only know their names—Kisame, and the other one's a chick called Karin. I've seen them once or twice."
Itachi nodded, filing the information away. It wasn't surprising that he hadn't heard of them—every year, at least two thousand candidates took the hunters' exam. Knowing them all was impossible.
They didn't spot their two teammates until after the gates had closed behind them.
The bell's resonant chime had signalled the start of the exam, sending nearly three hundred groups surging forward into the hunting grounds. The task itself was simple in design—navigate forty miles on foot to the exit gate. The difficulty lay in what lurked within.
Vampires.
They had twenty-four hours to complete the challenge. The exam had begun at precisely four in the afternoon, and within two hours, the sun would dip below the horizon. When darkness fell, so too would the unnatural stillness—then would come the movement, the stirring of creatures bred for the night.
The hunting grounds only housed Normals—the kind of vampires that prowled only after sundown, unlike the blue-eyed ones who could withstand daylight. Yet persistent rumours whispered of something worse—Fullbloods concealed within the depths of this place. No proof had surfaced, but the claim hung in the air nonetheless.
Itachi stepped forward alongside Juno, their boots crunching over uneven terrain. The gate loomed behind them—a colossal construct of concrete and steel, stretching a thousand feet high. The academy had spared no expense in fortifying this cage.
Rank-red hunters were said to guard the outer perimeter, though Itachi could see no sign of them. The mechanism controlling the gate—a lever housed in a tower well beyond the hunting grounds—was manned by one, that much was certain. Rank-red hunters bore an unmistakable identifier: a removable strip of crimson cloth fastened to the front of their uniforms.
Still, even after the heavy doors had sealed shut, even after the examiner's voice rang out to confirm the exam had officially begun, Itachi and Juno remained alone.
"What should we do now?" Juno asked, shifting on his feet, glancing around as if their missing teammates might materialise from the shadows.
Itachi frowned slightly, weighing their options. Why were they taking so long to find them? They hadn't even seen their faces yet.
"It takes half a day to cover that distance on foot," he murmured, mulling over the dilemma. "If we wait too long, we may never reach the gate before the time runs out. But if we move ahead without them, we risk disqualification."
A difficult choice. And the clock was already ticking.
"Our only solution is to search for them," Itachi decided, his tone firm.
"I hear you, but how exactly are we supposed to find them in this mess?" Juno grumbled, scanning the sea of bodies around them. Nearly five hundred people milled about—it would be no easy task to pinpoint two faces they had never even seen.
"We'll just have to try. It's our only option," Itachi replied. "Can you describe them to me? We'll split up and search separately."
Juno scratched the back of his head. "I'll give it a shot, but my memory's a bit hazy. The guy—he's got fish eyes, real tiny pupils, and he's pale. Like ridiculously pale, all white. His hair? Blue. Yeah, definitely blue. He's a bit taller than you—" he gestured a little above Itachi's height. "And the girl—glasses, scrawny thing. Long red hair, proper fiery red."
Itachi nodded. "Alright. We'll search and meet back here in thirty minutes."
With that, they parted ways, each weaving through the dwindling crowd in search of their elusive teammates.
As Itachi moved, he noticed the numbers thinning considerably. It was both fortunate and troubling—if their teammates had left, tracking them down would be nearly impossible. But if they remained, they'd be easier to spot once the crowd fully dispersed.
A flicker of red caught his attention.
Turning, he spotted Juno approaching, eyes darting frantically about. When their gazes met, Juno hurried over, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper.
"Itachi—I just heard someone say they know a shortcut to the gate," he said urgently. "Everyone's going."
Itachi surveyed the crowd again. The numbers had dwindled further. He had never heard of a shortcut in the hunting grounds, and the fact that others were so quick to seize upon the claim made him wary.
"We still need to find our teammates first," he stated.
"Oh, right." Juno huffed and resumed scanning the surroundings.
Then—a sharp voice rang out.
"Oi, you two! What the hell are you doing?"
Itachi turned toward the source—and there stood the boy they had been looking for.
He had half expected Juno's description to be exaggerated, but there was no mistaking the fish-like quality of his narrow pupils. He was startlingly pale, the contrast against his deep-blue hair making his appearance even more striking.
"We were looking for you, that's what," Juno shot back, his tone laced with irritation. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Looking for you two," Kisame retorted, crossing his arms. "And thanks to you slowpokes, everyone else has buggered off to find the shortcut while we're here wasting time!"
Itachi sighed. "No point arguing. We're all here now—let's move."
At that moment, he spotted the red-haired girl making her way toward them, her sharp gaze scrutinising them with unveiled distaste.
"I believe we all know each other's names, so let's skip the formalities," Itachi remarked.
Kisame scoffed. "I know you two are Uchihas and all—but don't think I'll tolerate you dragging me down."
Juno bristled instantly. "Why you—"
Itachi swiftly placed a restraining hand on Juno's shoulder, silencing him with a simple nod.
They had no time for petty squabbles.
"We won't slow you down," Itachi stated simply.
Karin studied him for a moment before giving a curt nod, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Very well. Let's begin—we've already lost forty minutes."
"The shortcut's that way," Kisame said, jabbing a finger toward a forked road a short distance to their left.
Karin cleared her throat sharply. "Ahem. We won't be taking that route."
"Says who?" Kisame swung round to glare at her, his stance belligerent.
"Says me. I'm from the Tsukihime hunter clan—sensing vampires is my forte," she declared, nose tilted upwards, exuding self-importance.
Kisame merely grunted, unimpressed.
"I also think we shouldn't take that road—it's too convenient," Itachi added, his tone measured. Juno blinked at him but, thankfully, didn't argue.
Kisame scoffed and took a step forward, crowding into Itachi's space. Up close, his skin bore an unsettlingly scaly texture, and the faint scent of garlic clung to him. Itachi met his gaze without flinching.
"So, you reckon, just because you're Fugaku's son, you get to call the shots around here?" Kisame taunted.
Beside him, Juno choked, stunned into silence, but Itachi merely exhaled, unfazed. "No—I simply stated my opinion. I believe we all have the right to do that."
Kisame scoffed again, the corner of his mouth twisting into a smug grin. "Well, I say this team needs a leader, and I'm the only one fit for the role."
Itachi remained level. "I don't know if you're fit for the role, but we're not taking that shortcut."
"There are far too many vampires there—I can sense them," Karin interjected. "If we go down that path, it's suicide. Instead of squabbling, why don't we take another road?"
Kisame's expression darkened. He looked ready to argue further, but after a long exhale, he relented. "Bunch of wusses," he muttered. "Fine, we'll take another road—but no more bossing me about."
"Guys—is it just me, or does the forest look like it's moving closer?" Juno asked suddenly.
Itachi turned to see what he meant. The trees, bathed in the amber glow of the sinking sun, did indeed seem to shift, as though creeping toward them.
"It's just an illusion," Karin said briskly, striding forward into the forest without hesitation.
Itachi stole a glance at Juno, debating whether to say anything. He hadn't intended to keep his lineage a secret—it had simply never seemed relevant. Juno met his gaze and offered a reassuring smile, wordlessly conveying that he didn't mind. Still, they never spoke of it.
As they pressed into the forest, darkness settled thickly around them. Juno flicked on the lamps—a sure way to attract vampires, but without them, they were blind.
Karin, for reasons unknown, attempted conversation with Itachi. He wasn't certain why, nor did he fully engage, but he made an effort to be civil—listening, responding where necessary, maintaining a quiet diplomacy.
"It's coming!" Karin suddenly gasped, her fingers tightening around Itachi's arm. She had done the same before—gripping him as though fear might physically anchor her.
Itachi spared her a glance before shifting his focus to the trees around them. The night was thick with sound—the steady hum of crickets, the occasional rustle of unseen creatures—but there was no movement, no immediate threat.
Kisame let out an exaggerated sigh after two minutes of nothing. "Are you sure you're from the Tsukihime clan? You've been giving us one false call after another—I'm starting to think you haven't got the faintest idea how to sense anything," he said, irritation creeping into his tone.
Itachi wasn't certain what to believe. Five warnings. Five times, nothing had appeared. Yet there was something unsettling about the way Karin stuck to her claim—as though something truly was lurking just beyond their sight.
Kisame, meanwhile, seemed more annoyed that no vampire had turned up to give him an excuse to wield the oversized sword strapped to his back.
"I felt it, okay?" Karin insisted, her mouth set in defiance. "It's tailing us—getting closer every time."
"Perhaps," Itachi murmured, noncommittal. "We can only give it time."
"Or," Kisame cut in with a smirk, "we could draw it out ."
Before anyone could stop him, he slipped a dagger from his coat and brandished it before Juno—who yelped and practically bolted behind Itachi.
Kisame laughed, sharp and jagged, before flipping the blade in his hand and dragging it across his forearm in a deliberate motion. A fresh line of crimson welled up.
"Here, kitty, kitty," he taunted, voice rich with amusement. "Come and get it—fresh, juicy blood."
Silence stretched for barely a minute.
Then, something moved .
A blur darted past, human-like but emaciated to the point of horror—its ribs pressing sharply against its skin, its elongated legs grotesquely spidery as it lunged from the trees.
Straight for Kisame.
Itachi jerked his arm free from Karin's grip, his sword already drawn—a long, curved blade catching the dim light of their lamps. He surged forward, intercepting the creature mid-leap, striking precisely at its chest.
But sensing the danger, the vampire twisted, attempting to change course.
Too slow.
Itachi's blade caught flesh, carving a deep gash across its torso. Blood sprayed into the air, the creature shrieking before vanishing in a frantic retreat.
"Oi! That was my kill!" Kisame bellowed, already tearing off after it.
"Don't go charging off alone!" Juno shouted, but Kisame didn't so much as glance back.
Karin hurried to Itachi's side as he calmly sheathed his sword, her breath uneven.
"That was incredible," she said, looking at him with undisguised awe. "I could barely follow you—you're exactly how I imagined."
"Imagined?" Itachi cast her a measured look, his curiosity piqued.
Karin chuckled nervously, adjusting her glasses. "I mean… when I heard you were Fugaku's son, well—trust the son of Fugaku to be pretty amazing, right?"
"She's got a point, mate," Juno added. "I couldn't react at all—I just froze."
"It was nothing," Itachi replied, his voice as steady as ever. He glanced toward the distance where Kisame had vanished. "We should move on—he'll catch up when he's ready."
The others agreed, and they pressed forward.
Kisame reappeared nearly an hour later, grinning like a man who'd just feasted on victory. Whatever had transpired during his absence had evidently lifted his spirits, and the remainder of the journey proceeded without issue.
Passing through the gates, they found only five people waiting. Gradually, others trickled in—thirty more joining them, bringing their number to thirty-five.
Itachi took quiet note of how many hailed from the Uchiha clan. Some he barely recognised greeted him warmly, eager In their admiration.
Soon, all examinees were gathered. Out of the two thousand who had begun, roughly three hundred had passed. The examiners remarked that it was a particularly high number this year. Of those, one hundred and seventy bore the Uchiha name.
After receiving their white badges, Kisame and Karin bid their farewells.
Kisame, ever keen for a challenge, expressed his intent to test his skills against Itachi someday. Karin, however, made a bolder move—pressing a swift kiss to his cheek before promptly fleeing on horseback, as if pursued.
Juno snickered, clearly amused. "I knew she fancied you."
Itachi exhaled, shaking his head, but said nothing.
He took the reins of his own horse and stirred it forward. His father had mentioned they'd travel home together, but he hadn't expected the graduates to accompany them. They congratulated him as though he alone had triumphed, despite their own success. He returned the sentiment all the same.
"Your mother will be able to stop worrying once you're home," Fugaku remarked as Itachi mounted.
Itachi turned, taking in the imposing sight of his father astride his sleek black steed.
"So will I," he murmured.
"You should look a lot happier," Fugaku observed, before nudging his horse forward.
Itachi glanced at his hands gripping the reins, replaying those words in his mind.
Should he feel happy? He wasn't sure. He couldn't force it, couldn't fake it—but surely, it was expected.
Wasn't it?
Exhaling slowly, he urged his horse forward into a gallop.
For two days, they rode tirelessly, their pace steady yet urgent as they neared the border of Light City. The band slowed as they approached the Uchiha village, their exhaustion evident—some spoke in hushed tones, others struggled to keep their eyes open atop their saddles. A few, ever vigilant, remained sharply alert.
It was Juno who saw the smoke first.
"That—" he pointed ahead, his voice laced with unease. "It kinda looks like it's coming from the village."
Others turned to look, murmurs spreading through the group. Soon, the anxiety rippled outward, tightening its grip.
"What's happening?" someone asked.
"That's too much smoke—could the village be burning?"
Then—someone shrieked.
Itachi swung around and caught sight of Juno, his eyes brimming with tears. "Juno?" he called, following his friend's stricken gaze.
Under the hill, the sight revealed itself—horses thundering forward, pulling cages .
And behind the iron bars— people .
Then came the detail that cemented their worst fear.
Blue eyes.
"They're blue-eyed vampires!" someone shouted, the words slicing through the air like a blade.
A chorus of panicked voices erupted.
"Oh, God , no."
"They've come from the village!"
"What do we do?"
Dread spread like wildfire, and for a moment, Itachi could only watch . His mind raced. He understood the weight of what this meant—the vampires raided villages every three years, but never had they ventured this far from Elfim.
His fingers shook against the reins, yet he forced himself still. His gaze followed the cages—the helpless faces pressed against the bars, crying out for salvation.
Juno's voice cracked through the chaos. " We have to do something! My brothers are in there!"
"Silence!" Fugaku's voice boomed, cutting through the panic like a command of steel. The band stilled.
"Now, listen to me—all of you. I know you've only just graduated, but this is your chance to prove you earned your hunters' badge. Stop your whining like a bunch of sissies, and instead—let's show those damned blue-eyed vamps why they should never mess with the Uchiha clan!"
A roar of battle cries followed.
Swords were unsheathed, guns were raised, arrows nocked—every weapon in their arsenal drawn in a furious, determined grip.
Then, like a storm breaking upon the land, their horses surged forward—galloping down the hill in a relentless charge.
The blue-eyed vampires never saw it coming.
Itachi kept close to his father, his grip firm on the reins, but his mind was elsewhere. He had yet to see if Sasuke or their mother were among the captives—that uncertainty gnawed at him, pulling at his focus. It nearly cost him an arm.
"Don't get distracted, boy!" Fugaku's voice rang sharp and authoritative as he speared a vampire clean through. "Look your enemy in the eye when you kill them!"
The words snapped Itachi back to the present—back to steel and blood and the chaos of battle. It was just like their training sessions. He forced himself to clear his mind. Sasuke and their mother were safe . Unhurt . He repeated the thought like a mantra, steadying his breath.
This is just another trial. Another exam.
Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he exhaled, releasing his mounting panic. When he opened them again, the battlefield sharpened—his enemies were fast, far quicker than the Normals he had encountered in the hunting grounds. But he could see them now, and that was what mattered.
The fight erupted.
Itachi moved with precision, cutting down vampires as they crossed his path—each strike swift, lethal, executed without hesitation. Unlike Normals, whose bodies dissolved into mere smoke, these blue-eyed creatures glowed as they perished—lights bursting across the battlefield, illuminating the carnage in eerie brilliance.
He caught glimpses of fallen hunters, riders thrown from their horses, overwhelmed by the enemy. He tried— tried —to reach them, to cut down their assailants before it was too late. But by the time his blade found the vampires, the hunters lay unmoving, glassy-eyed, their expressions frozen in pain.
Something burned in his throat.
With a cry, Itachi plunged forward, cutting down more enemies with relentless fury.
They were winning.
Juno had dismounted, hacking at the cage locks with frantic determination. Itachi caught sight of his younger brothers, barely six, clutching Juno as though he was the only thing tethering them to safety. Tears streamed down their faces, their sobs uncontrolled.
Itachi turned back, his focus shifting momentarily—just long enough to slit the throat of a vampire hurtling toward him.
And when he turned again—
Juno.
He stood there—his head tilted at an unnatural angle, blood spilling from his mouth.
Then, in one slow, unforgiving motion, his head fell .
The world stilled .
Itachi gasped, his pulse thundering. Everything blurred—slowed to a crawl. He almost couldn't comprehend the expression on the children's faces, their wide, blood-spattered eyes no longer wet with tears. They had stopped crying altogether.
Just watched.
Juno's body crumpled.
Time resumed.
Itachi barely registered his own ragged breathing. His gaze darted frantically— who did it ? Left. Right. He searched.
Then, a voice.
"Geez, I leave you lot alone for one moment and this is what I come back to."
A rider sat astride his horse, casual as though he had simply wandered into a tavern. Orange hair, tousled and unbothered, caught the dim light of the bloodstained battlefield. In one hand, he held out a scythe —its edge slick with fresh crimson.
From this distance, and with that weapon—
Blue eyes met Itachi's.
"My bad," the man mused, his tone infuriatingly indifferent. "Was he a friend of yours?"
Itachi growled, gripping his reins tight. A single movement sent his horse forward, sword thrust out, rage gripping him like a vice. He heard his father call his name but didn't falter—not now.
Two vampires lunged into his path.
He cut them down in one effortless stroke.
Only a few feet remained between him and the orange-haired man when something shifted.
He sensed It—too late.
He couldn't pull his horse to a stop quickly enough. Instinct took over, and he bent backwards just as two daggers veered dangerously close to his face. The blades passed mere inches from his eyes.
A chuckle.
Itachi sat up again, his horse slowing to a halt before his target—but now, another presence loomed.
He turned.
A woman.
White-haired, clad in a loosely hanging red kimono, exposing far too much skin to be anything but deliberate. A fan concealed part of her face, but her lips curled behind it, coy, teasing.
Smiling.
Waiting.
"You managed to dodge that—good reflexes," the woman remarked, amusement threading through her voice.
"Yoko, don't flatter the man," the orange-haired rider said with mild irritation.
"But he is delightfully handsome. And strong too—if I hadn't stopped him, he would've hit you," she replied, her tone teasing.
"Ha. You're joking, surely."
Itachi's brow furrowed. He tensed, readying himself for another strike.
But then—
"Itachi, fall back! Now—that's an order!" His father's voice cut through the air like a blade.
He hesitated for only a moment before reluctantly retreating, his horse stepping back under his control.
"We have to go," Fugaku told him, meeting him halfway.
Itachi's jaw clenched. " What? " he spat.
"You're no match for them," Fugaku said firmly. "We must withdraw."
Reason dictated that his father was right—but fury boiled beneath Itachi's skin. How could he retreat, knowing that man still stood over Juno's lifeless body?
"Itachi, listen to me," Fugaku pressed. "They're the Nines . You know what that means."
Itachi's eyes widened. The Nines —the strongest race of vampires in existence. It was said they couldn't be killed. No one had ever lived long enough to describe them after an encounter.
"If you two think I'm just going to let you walk away after this mess," the orange-haired man chuckled, shifting his grip on his scythe, " you must be the best comedians In all of Light City ."
Itachi turned, gripping his sword tightly. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer pressure radiating off the man before him.
Red and black smoke seeped from his form, swirling like an unnatural mist.
A presence that was nothing short of terrifying.