Five years had passed since Itachi left Earth. Five years filled with battles fought in distant realms where time twisted and the very fabric of reality seemed fragile. Now, finally, he was home.
The spaceship descended slowly through the atmosphere, its engines whispering against the calm sky. Itachi stood by the viewport, watching the familiar blue-green orb grow larger with each passing moment. Cities sparkled like distant stars, forests stretched in endless waves, and rivers wound like veins across the land.
This was his world. His beginning and, perhaps, his end.
He had changed. The wars, the endless fights, the crushing solitude—they had left marks deeper than any wound of flesh. Yet beneath the coldness in his eyes, a small warmth lingered—the quiet hope of peace.
The ship touched down in a remote forest clearing. The air was fresh and alive with the scent of pine and earth after rain. Itachi stepped out, the soft crunch of leaves beneath his boots grounding him in reality. For the first time in years, he breathed deeply—really breathed.
The world was quiet. Too quiet.
Itachi wandered through the trees, his steps slow, savoring the stillness. He found a small lake tucked between ancient oaks. The water was smooth and dark, reflecting the deepening twilight and the first shy stars.
He knelt at the shore, running his fingers through the cool water, watching ripples distort the reflection of the sky. Memories surfaced—faces, places, moments he thought he had buried. Among them was Lily, her smile brief but unforgettable. The pain of her absence still throbbed quietly beneath his chest, a wound left unhealed.
No war waited here. No enemies lurked in the shadows. Just the earth, the sky, and the slow passing of time.
Itachi allowed himself a rare moment to feel something beyond duty or pain—simply to exist.
As night fell, he made his way toward a nearby village, where old friends and allies awaited. They greeted him quietly, the joy of reunion tempered by years of worry and uncertainty. The conversations were soft and slow, filled with cautious hope rather than grand plans or urgent warnings.
Itachi listened more than he spoke, absorbing the changes the world had undergone in his absence. The people spoke of quiet rebuilding, of lives lived in careful peace. They asked little of him now—only that he stay and remember what it meant to live among them again.
Over the following days, Itachi wandered the familiar places—streets where he had once walked, gardens now blooming with new life, rooftops that caught the golden sunlight. The world seemed fragile, beautiful in its ordinary rhythms.
Yet somewhere beneath it all, he knew this peace was temporary. The battles had scarred the very fabric of existence, and though silent now, the storm was never far away.
But for now, there was only this—the cool breeze in the trees, the warmth of the sun on his face, and the steady pulse of the world beneath his feet.
Itachi's eyes closed, and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope.