Both Sarada and Sakura realise who the newcomer is at the same time; but their reactions are vastly different.

Sarada is intrigued, almost awed. This man standing before them is her uncle—an individual that is more myth than reality to her. Curiosity and confusion overwhelm her, marring her training and better judgement.

Her first impression of him was true: he looks uncannily like her father. His hair is longer, though, and his cheekbones more defined; the rest of his features are somehow more delicate, almost feminine. Even his frame is different—shorter than her father, more lithe than wiry, like a dancer. If the stories of his exploits are true, that would make him fast as well as lethal. The delicate appearance is probably something than many an opponent has misjudged. On top of all that, he exudes a bewildering mixture of frailty and power Sarada can't decide if she is drawn to or terrified of.

Sakura has no such indecision.

The palpable fear in her body-language reminds Sarada of the harsh truth of their circumstances.

If Itachi Uchiha is alive, then he is from the past. Whatever the means by which he came to be here, in his timeline he is a dangerous criminal, not one of the many names chiselled into the memorial stone in Konoha's cemetery. He has not yet carried out whatever action will redeem him, and he is certainly not the hero her father says he is.

She needs to be careful.

"Based on your expressions, you both know who I am," he says, voice sombre and mild. Different again from Sarada's father, who at any age speaks with a hard edge of certainty and arrogance. "I've seen you before—" Itachi's eyes rest on Sakura, who is pale-faced and shaking, eyes firmly planted on the floor. Surprise and confusion cross her features, but he doesn't qualify the statement, instead turning his gaze to Sarada, "—but you're a stranger, it would seem."

He says nothing more, but the tomoe in his Sharingan spin in calculation.

"Keep your eyes on his feet," Sakura whispers to Sarada, voice shaking. "If you look at him, he'll catch you in a genjutsu."

Sarada instantly looks away, shame bubbling up inside her as she realises what an elementary mistake she just made. Even if she can't help it—trying to study the man she feels she's supposed to know but doesn't—it's not excuse to forget her training.

"It's interesting that a young girl would be familiar with the abilities of a Sharingan, rare as it is," Itachi remarks. "You look like you're barely past chūnin level."

Although there is no derision in his words, Sakura blushes in embarrassment. Even if she hadn't caught a brief look at him before her senses caught up with her, she would be caught off-guard by his words. To her, his voice is far too like Sasuke's, and she has become conditioned to feel flustered when praised or criticised by an Uchiha.

"If I had wanted to use a genjutsu, there have been ample opportunities to do so," he continues. "Neither of you pose any risk to me, given your respective physical limitations."

Again, he doesn't need to elaborate. His eyes linger on Sarada's injury and Sakura's shivering form; she is still weak from her healing attempts. On top of that, both girls are crouched in their underthings, their tools and weapons out of reach.

Staring down one of the most dangerous shinobi in Konoha's history, and we're sitting around in our underwear. Because this day couldn't get any worse...!

"However," Itachi continues, "If it brings you some small comfort..."

Sarada chances a quick peek, and watches his eyes fade to black.

They are the exact shade of Sarada's father's eye. She swallows a painful lump in her throat.

Itachi's apparent act of good faith doesn't stop Sakura from stepping forward, placing herself in between him and Sarada.

"Even if I didn't read about you, I'd know who you are," Sakura tells him, defiant and angry despite her fear. "I might not know exactly what happened in the past because he won't tell anyone, but I will never forgive you for what you did to Sasuke in Shukuba Town!"

Without looking directly at him, it's hard to tell if his expression changes, but Sakura imagines his mouth twitching somehow. "Ah. The other teammate. Now it makes sense. And you?"

Once again, he addresses Sarada.

Before she can answer, Sakura speaks hurriedly speaks up, "It doesn't matter who she is! And it doesn't matter who I am. We don't have anything to do with you, so you should just...go." All the while, she tries wordlessly to communicate with Sarada that she needs to leave! "We weren't looking for you, we don't care that you're out here. I'm...I'm sure you've got stuff you're supposed to be doing, and we definitely do, so...we can just go our separate ways, right? We won't tell anyone we saw you!"

Her hands are shaking and there's a catch in her voice despite how hard she is trying sound firm.

She might have no idea how they're going to get out of this latest spot of trouble, but one thing she does know for sure is that she has to protect Sarada. If this man discovers who she is to Sakura, and more specifically who she is to Sasuke –

Well, he killed his entire clan, right? It stands to reason that if he were to discover that Sarada is the future of that clan, he wouldn't think twice.

And it's only a matter of time before he figures it out. All he needs to do is really look at her. It took Sasuke barely hours, and that only because he is so utterly focussed on his own goals that he doesn't register things happening around him. But Itachi is in full possession of his mental faculties—homicidal, mass-murdering tendencies aside—and renowned for being quick. He made ANBU captain at thirteen, if the stories are to be believed.

If this man looks too closely, he will figure it out and that's something Sakura can't allow.

"What makes you think begging me to do something will sway my decision one way or another?" Itachi questions. "I am an enemy, after all."

"Then why are you so close to Konoha?" Sarada wants to know. "You have to have been in the area for a while, or else you couldn't be here right now. Which means—"

"Stop talking!" Sakura hisses, frustrated that Sarada is unknowingly working against her. "He's dangerous!"

But Sarada can't help herself; once more, she is caught in Itachi's gaze. His eyes are deep and fathomless, unreadable if it weren't for her own strong eyesight. In them she can see careful control, a depth of intelligence and something else utterly unnameable. And, for some reason, the slightest squint to his eyes, as if he needs to concentrate to see. The minute strain there is similar to what she does when she goes without her glasses.

Is there something wrong with his eyes?

Itachi frowns at Sarada, still trying to place her face but failing.

"Hey!" Sakura demands, once more forcing his attention back to her. "I'm the one talking to you, not her! What are you doing here, anyway?"

Itachi reluctantly turns away from Sarada, but she doesn't think for a second that he has forgotten her presence. The set in his jaw is too much like her father's; he is working something out even as he looks to Sakura.

His mouth tugs slightly upward in a slow, wry twist.

"My partner and I are on business," he tells her. From the slightly amused note, it's obvious he is humouring her rather than folding to her nonexistent interrogation tactics. "He's somewhere around outside the bubble. Yes, I did notice it," he adds, noting Sakura's surprised expression, "even before I heard you speaking about 'spontaneous teleporting ninjas' and 'time-travel bubbles'." Sakura and Sarada glance at one another. They wonder what else he has heard. "The Sharingan can see the layers of dimensions with ease. And this entire area is riddled with dimensional overlap."

"So, what...You just walked into a dimensional bubble?" Sakura asks. "Isn't that kind of...um...counterproductive to...whatever it is you're doing out here?"

Itachi is grim. "There are very few shinobi in this world with the ability to create such a dimensional distortion. All of those I know of are either dead or on the other side of the continent. This phenomenon is much bigger than any I have ever seen and growing. If it continues, it will likely consume the entire country, then the world. That does me no good."

"So you're here to investigate too?" Sakura muses. "Well, then you don't need two random strangers holding you back while you look, so..."

"Why is it you are so determined that I ignore your comrade?" Itachi asks her, making her freeze up. "If you are part of a protection detail, your ability to deflect attention needs work. If your charge was a target, any ninja would know just based on your behaviour."

"I'm not—it's just—You're an S-class criminal!" Sakura insists. "I would want to protect anyone from you!"

"You are lying," he tells her calmly. "Even now your intuition tells you to flee, yet you stay. Aside from my brother, it's rare for someone so young to be so intent on throwing their life away." His eyes narrow. "But then, even the strongest shinobi lose their good sense when it comes to family."

Sakura's heart stutters.

"I can tell by looking at you," Itachi goes on, taking a step forward, then another. Both Sarada and Sakura begin to back away. "Your eyes are the same shape, as are your faces. There's obvious resemblance. One would think a younger cousin if it weren't for..." He trails off, abruptly fixing Sarada in with a more pointed gaze, "The way your eyes narrow when you frown."

Sarada's eyes widen.

"That's not possible," Itachi says, more to himself than to her. He takes another step forward, and then abruptly commands, "Face me." The directive is completely unexpected, and for a moment both Sakura and Sarada wonder if they heard right. "Do as I say. Trust me when I say it's the simplest option."

"If you touch her, I will kill you," Sakura promises, venom lacing words that are much braver than she feels.

"Such an intent doesn't come naturally to you," Itachi comments. "You believe her more important than your own life? Or is it someone else she is precious to?"

Sakura's heart stutters. He's figured it out.

"Sarada, run—run now!" she orders, eyes flitting to her weapons. All she needs is a second—

She hasn't even taken a step before Itachi has moved forward, holding her off the ground by the throat with one hand. The other allows a kunai to slide from his robe, and he throws it effortlessly, almost lazily, behind him, knocking away the log Sakura was about to use in substitution.

"Girl," he addresses Sarada, still utterly calm despite Sakura clutching desperately at his hand. "I have no need to make idle threats."

Whatever Sarada imagined about meeting her uncle, in dreams or the vague scenarios she entertained since time suddenly made his existence possible, this is far from it. This man before her is terrifying—more so, in a way, than the alien creatures that attacked and almost killed the Seventh Hokage.

And he wants her to face him.

Sakura makes a choking noise now.

Tears of frustration, fear and, somehow, betrayal gather in Sarada's eyes as she wills herself to stare up into the face of death. It's horribly stiff, but it's all she can manage, too panicked by the sight if her mother battling ineffectually at the fingers cutting off her oxygen.

She must succeed though, because Itachi stares at her mouth for a moment, and then lets out a quiet, stunned exhalation. His grasp lessens and Sakura falls back to her feet, gasping desperately for air.

For the first time since he appeared, Itachi appears genuinely surprised.

Sakura struggles to her feet, massaging her throat. She fully intends to grab Sarada and make a run for it, Itachi's skill and speed be damned—

Except he has recovered himself, head whipping around to stare straight at her. His eyes blaze, and the tomoe spin into a new shape. She barely has a chance to note the sudden change in design, like a three-bladed wheel, and she crumples forward.

"NO!" Sarada screams, diving toward Sakura and catching her before she hits the ground. She glares up at Itachi, her own Sharingan raging to the surface. "What did you do?!"

"I have merely confirmed a theory," he says, though he sounds less neutral now. There's a catch in his voice that borders on uncertain. "You are an Uchiha."

"And you needed me to make a face to discover that?" Sarada snaps. "What kind of a sick, twisted creep are you?"

"That was not the intention. I had...simply forgotten the shape of my mother's smile."

She has no idea what to say to that, because for the briefest flicker of time she imagines she sees pain in this man. Just a moment, however, because then he looms over her—and how could she have thought he was delicate looking before?—eyes simmering with renewed fury.

"Explain yourself. You resemble this girl, and yet you resemble my parents. My brother. This should be impossible. All of the Uchiha are dead."

"Because you killed them," Sarada whispers. It's not a question, but she awaits the confirmation. Even in this moment, even now she can't quite believe it.

"Yes," he says. "And depending on your next words, you may be joining their number."

The world goes cold, but not in the same way as falling unconscious.

The night sky bleeds away, inverting until it turns red as blood, dark clouds surrounding a scarlet moon. Itachi's pale face becomes nothing but shadows, and the world around her alters until the trees and river are nothing but stylised versions of themselves.

"There's no escaping this place," Itachi tells her, "and so you may as well tell me what I wish to know."

The world that Sarada finds herself in is utterly devoid of sensation. She hears no ambient noises, cannot feel the movement of air on her skin or pick up any generic scents. The sky is red and the ground black, stretching on for miles.

Sarada is vaguely aware that she is not alone here, that Itachi Uchiha lingers only footsteps away from her, observing her with that same blank, controlled expression. She has barely made this observation when she finds herself surrounded. Not by enemies, however, but by...

Her?

All around her she sees doppelgangers of herself, in various states of activity. Every duplicate Sarada appears utterly solid, not just a flickering image, and interacts with other solid figures.

Her parents, her friends, people she's only ever seen in passing around the village...

Everyone is recognizable however all are cast in an eerie black light.

One version of herself shows off her Katon to her father. Another Sarada stands with her mother, watching Uncle Naruto become Hokage.

Not just her. Experiences she has had.

Her memories.

And whenever she notices them, she finds herself reliving them in painfully realistic detail. Old joys and old hurts, both mental and physical, rear up and clutch at her heart as if they are really happening all over again.

Mama lies, pale and bedridden, while Aunt Shizune tries to comfort Sarada.

Sarada watches herself cower in front of her father as he brandishes a katana, his Sharingan spinning threateningly. "Is that you...Sarada...?"

A week after the Chūnin Exam, Sarada leans over and notices that Boruto's eyes are much bluer than his father's—

"Stop it!" Sarada yells, her stomach flipping with anger and embarrassment and a little fear. Tears leak from her eyes because these are personal moments, memories of times past, and she is experiencing them all over again, all at once.

"The discomfort will pass," Itachi remarks. "Mindreading is not a skill I possess. Observing you reexperience your memories is the only way I can obtain the information I need. I assure you I am being as delicate as possible."

"Try asking first!" she snarls. There are even scenes playing out which she has forgotten or is incapable of remembering on her own.

On the first day at the Academy, no one will speak to young Sarada. She's an Uchiha—the only child of an infamous clan, the daughter of a man considered a hero and traitor all at once. The other children avoid her, whisper when they think she can't hear. Chōchō Akimichi doesn't care what other people think and sits beside her, offers her chips and just starts talking.

A toddler Sarada holds tight to the hands of her parents, taking tentative steps forward; whenever she stumbles, two firm grasps keep her upright.

As an infant, she is terrified and cold and surprised, staring up at a redheaded woman that looks even more perplexed to be holding her in her hands. In the background, an exhausted Mama rests against a sterile cot while Papa mops her drenched forehead.

Sarada feels nauseous and vulnerable, more so over this than the distant knowledge that in the outside world she's sitting around in her underwear. The lack of sensation around her is suffocating and the constant shadow of Itachi makes her want to claw out of her own skin.

"Get—out—of—my—head!" Sarada screams, clutching her hands to her temples. She scrunches her eyes shut to make the images stop.

For a wonder, they do, and abruptly all is silence again.

"Sarada," Itachi murmurs, a disbelieving catch in his throat. Even if he suspected before, even if he knew, it appears he still didn't expect to be proven right. "You are Sasuke's child."

Shaking, Sarada lifts her head to glare at him.

When she meets his gaze—there's no danger now, she's already trapped in this genjutsu world—it is as if she is looking at a different person. For the first time since he stepped out of the darkness, his face is filled with emotion.

Sadness. Awe. Hope.

And she doesn't care.

"How dare you," she hisses. "Who the hell do you think you are, rifling though all my private moments like that?" She takes a step forward. "Is this what you do? Put people here, in this place, and make them relive their memories? Is this what you did to my father in Shukuba Town?"

"It was necessary," Itachi tells her, and though the words are bland, she hears the apology there. Each syllable rings with a heaviness, a breathless plea, and she can't help thinking she's not the intended recipient of this. "If circumstances were different, I would never dream of bringing you to this place. But it's the only way to communicate without being overheard."

"Overheard by who?" Sarada demands, not allowing herself to be swayed by his apology. "We're in the middle of nowhere, and you knocked my Ma—you knocked Sakura unconscious!"

"She will be fine," Itachi dismisses, eyes closing for a moment as if in focus. "I didn't put her under my Tsukuyomi, so she will break herself out of it soon enough." There might be a note of approval there, but he speaks so softly it's hard to tell. "It's prudent to always assume that someone is watching. While it is highly unlikely any of my associates are in this area, there are those who excel at eavesdropping. For your sake, as well as mine, I can't risk them noticing anything out of the ordinary."

"I'm pretty sure if they're your associates, they'll figure out you're doing something. Especially if you're just standing over the bodies of two girls in their underwear like a big creep!"

He either doesn't register the insult or doesn't care.

"In this world, I can slow the perception of time. It might be hours or days, but outside only seconds will pass. Anyone who might be watching us will simply see an effortless incapacitation of two injured genin."

"Then why go through the trouble?!"

"Because the situation is more serious than I imagined, and requires more time to solve than you have on the outside."

"No! Not that! Why go through the trouble of talking to me? You already know something is going on here, you could have just knocked M—Sakura and me out, and then kept going to figure things out! You didn't need to bring me here, or...or look at my memories!"

"A momentary lapse," Itachi dismisses, "one we shouldn't waste time dwelling on."

"Don't give me that crap—shannaro!" Sarada yells. "I want a straight answer from you for once, and you haven't given me anything so far! They said you killed the Uchiha clan—you even said so—but my father talks about you like you're some kind of hero! What the hell is up with that?"

He looks pained. "You cannot tell me this. I cannot know—"

"Why would he do that, huh? If you killed our entire clan?! There's got to be something else going on here, and I need to know what it is!"

Itachi's voice is tense. "If my brother did not see fit to tell you these things, I won't do him the disservice of doing so behind his back. It is a conversation meant to be had between a father and his child."

"But—"

"There are also things I cannot tell you because I do not have the answers. Your father is a very different man from the brother I left behind. And if he has chosen to..." Itachi stops talking then, and swallows, abruptly overcome. It takes a second to recover and replace the carefully neutral expression. "The more we discuss the past, the more tempting it becomes to change things. And they cannot change."

"Why not?!" she cries. "Why can't this whole thing just be a sign that maybe some things need to be changed?"

"Because of who you are, Sarada." Itachi's eyes soften fractionally. "Because of what you represent."

Sarada's anger is abruptly overshadowed by confusion. "What?"

"You are the epitome of everything I have ever fought for. The reason I continue the path I have chosen. Everything I have done; it has been for the future of Konoha and my brother's well-being."

"But...but you killed our family...how could that...how could you ever think it was for his well-being?" she chokes.

Itachi's expression remains composed, but she imagines a flicker of pain in his eyes.

"Fate is not always so kind as to provide an easy path," he tells her. "Seeing you, I know the price I paid is worth it. We will leave it at that. I will not risk interfering now, where I might change something that results in you not existing."

"How can you say that? You don't even know me. Yeah, okay, I'm your niece, but...that might as well just be a word to you. You've never even imagined I might exist one day, how can you care so strongly about it one way or another?"

"That is a question your father will have to answer. We have more important matters to discuss."

"Screw that! You just said time is slower here, so you're going to make time!" Sarada orders him. "I have questions, and you're going to answer me, Uncle Itachi!"

The man who looks so much like her father practically jumps at being addressed like this. Terrifying eyes fix on Sarada as though he has never seen anything or anyone quite like her. Then he sighs, and something about his shoulders relaxes. His Sharingan fade. "You are so like him..."

Sarada experiences a flicker of warmth at the words. It's not the first time she's been compared to her father, but to hear it from Itachi Uchiha sends a little thrill through her despite her fear.

Her uncle considers her a moment longer, and then reaches toward her. She flinches, until she sees he brandishes no weapons—real or not, illusionary weapons can cause horrible wounds to the psyche—and motions with a downturned palm that she ought to come closer.

Sarada squints at him several seconds longer, suspicious, and then cautiously inches forward. After all, if he wanted to hurt her, it isn't as if distance will stop him.

She is barely within arm's length, when she feels a sharp poke to the center of her forehead.

It feels like she's been hit by a bolt of lightning where his fingers touch. Immediately, all around her and Itachi, memory duplicates of Sarada appear—

Mama beams, eyes shining, and leans forward, tapping her fingers just below Sarada's hairline. "I'll tell you next time."

"Don't make that face," Papa says, pulling away from Sarada. He is smiling at her, but his eyes are filled with regret. He doesn't want to leave again. He reaches for her forehead and lightly brushes his fingers there. "I'll see you next time."

Except, it's not just images of Sarada.

In the distance, behind the images of herself, she sees two others dark shapes.

"Ouch!" a young Sasuke complains, as Itachi flicks his fingers against his forehead and says, "Forgive me, Sasuke...another time."

Another small version of Sasuke glares up at his brother, wincing as Itachi murmurs, "Sorry, Sasuke. Maybe another time."

Still farther, she sees another image, different than the others somehow.

A small boy—Itachi—holds a crying baby. "Don't cry, Sasuke. Your big brother's here to protect you. No matter what happens."

The infant's cries taper off, and he stares up at Itachi's face. A tiny finger reaches out, poking at Itachi's forehead, making the older boy smile.

"That's..." Sarada whispers, reflexively pressing a hand to her own forehead as realisations dawn.

"It's only a matter of time before you are reunited with Sasuke," Itachi tells her, content to ignore the barrage of images around them. "The one from my timeline. It is imperative that I be nowhere nearby when that happens."

"Because he wants to kill you," Sarada says.

Itachi inclines his head but doesn't answer directly. Instead, he says, "It is simply too soon for us to meet again."

Sarada makes a face.

"I didn't think there was anyone in the world who could be as evasive as my father. I guess you're who he gets it from."

"And I suppose he's the one you get your stubbornness from."

"No, that's from my mother," Sarada counters with false bravado. "And if you think you're going to get away with not answering my questions just by making little comments about my parents or...or grandparents...then you're seriously underestimating me. Because I can't exactly care about people I was never given the chance to meet, can I?"

Itachi's mouth thins.

It's a low blow, but Sarada needs him to know that even with what he's shown her, she hasn't forgiven him.

Whatever he does in the future, whatever he does that her father chooses to leverage against his murder of their family, she hasn't learned of it yet. And she can't judge if it excuses him or not.

Itachi Uchiha might be a great man, he might care about her father and, inexplicably, her as well. He might inspire feelings of terror and curiosity and the fervent need to know where she comes from.

But by his own words he is still a murderer, and it isn't her place to pardon him.

It's best she keeps her emotions in check, at least for now, and treats him simply as a skilled ninja with whom she has found herself working.

And then after they save the world, maybe she can try to reconcile the notorious killer with the man who said she has her grandmother's smile and taps her forehead the same way her parents do when they want to tell her without words how much she means to them.

"Very well," Itachi says, straightening up. "Since you don't want me seeing your memories, explain how you came to be here and what you know of the time distortion."

Sarada squares her shoulders and adopts the concise yet comprehensive tone she uses when undergoing mission debriefs with her team. Boruto is always screwing that up with his stupid comments, but she knows the value of sticking to the relevant facts.

Or, at least she did before today.

As she relays the day's events to Itachi, she is torn between wanting to show off her skill at conveying information to her uncle, and guilt because technically she is interacting with someone who, during his time period, is a notorious criminal.

A murderer.

Sometimes she can't help hesitate about what to say and what not to. Only when Itachi gives a small shake of his head—an indication to skip something or to move her explanation along—does she begin to figure out what kind of information he wants to avoid.

Mostly it's things to do with her father.

It bothers her—makes her a little angry, even—especially considering what she knows he's done. How the hell is he so easily able to divide his feelings for his own family from whatever mission he is on? On the one hand, she wishes she had that ability: to be clear-headed enough not to give in to her emotions or speak of things she shouldn't.

But at the same time, to know that ability comes at the cost of being allowed to feel? She doesn't ever want to have to put aside her love for her family for something or someone else. She imagines it would feel like being turned to stone.

Throughout her story about the teleporter and encountering her parents' future selves, Itachi is quiet.

When he finally speaks, it is with a thoughtful note which suggests he is working out the problem simultaneously in his head.

"I have limited understanding of space-time jutsu," he admits to Sarada. "But I know enough to make an educated guess about what may be happening. In the past, some members of the Uchiha clan were able to traverse dimensions."

"Like my father."

"Like the future version of my brother," Itachi agrees, his mouth doing that thing again where he looks like he might want to smile but doesn't. "Based on theory, and the few incidents I have seen myself, every dimensional portal, whether in time or in space, has to have an epicenter."

"Like ripples in a lake. There has to be something that disturbs the surface."

Itachi seems pleased by the comparison. "Exactly. Once the epicenter of the disturbance is located, it's easier to interrupt the cause of that disturbance. Removing it should return reality to its previous state."

"Should?"

"There are no certainties, of course."

Sarada doesn't like that possibility and chooses not to dwell on it. "What could even have caused this whole thing to begin with?"

"Time travel requires one of two things: either a lot of chakra, or a specific kekkei genkai ability. Neither option is highly likely at this juncture."

"Why not?"

"First of all, I can count on one hand the amount of locations where a person could find the amount of chakra needed to travel through time," Itachi says. "The closest place is the Kingdom of Rōran."

"That's in Wind Country."

"Yes. Beneath the heart of the main city, there is a lay line that could potentially grant access to a reportedly infinite chakra. However, it has been sealed for almost twenty years, and only blood heirs to the kingdom can open it."

"And even if one of them was forced to do that, it's still too far away," Sarada reasons. "The time-bubble would have started in Rōran, and not so close to Konoha."

"Yes."

"But couldn't someone with huge chakra reserves do it?"

"You mean a jinchūriki? Like your father's shorter, more foolish teammate."

"Hey! That's the Seventh Hokage and you'd better show him some respect!" Sarada snaps.

"Hm." This time Itachi's mouth definitely quirks in amusement. "I see. My apologies."

She can't tell if he's being serious or sarcastic.

"To answer your question: if such a person could manage to call up that power, unless they have a genetic disposition to time travel, the effort would kill them. The human body can only withstand so much strain, even the body of a jinchūriki."

Something dark passes over his face now, as if he is remembering something he would rather forget.

"Then it's the other option," Sarada decides, knowing better than to comment on it. "Someone with a bloodline ability had to do this."

"That's also impossible."

"Huh?" Sarada wasn't expecting this. "Why?"

"Because any bloodline abilities like that are extinct."

"Like the First Hokage's Mokuton?" Sarada asks.

"That's no longer an extinct ability. When I was with ANBU, an individual known to me as Tenzō was able to use it."

"You mean Captain Yamato, right? I heard Kakashi call him that once. He helped rebuild our house that time Mom accidentally knocked it down."

There's a slight lift to Itachi's eyebrow, but he doesn't remark on that. Instead, he says, "Tenzō was one of Orochimaru's test subjects, as I recall. A different case than the man you said attacked you, I think. Orochimaru altered cells from the body of the First Hokage, whose body he had access to. He wouldn't have had access to anyone with a time-travel ability or even the dormant ability to develop a time-travel ability."

"How do you know?"

"Because anyone who could have unlocked such an ability is long-dead and their remains destroyed."

"Yeah, but how do you know that?"

Itachi levels a meaningful stare at her, and a second later, the answer hits her.

"You mean...Uchiha."

"Yes."

Sarada shakes her head, struggling to comprehend this. "So there were Uchiha who could travel in time, too?"

"Is that so much more unbelievable than those who can cross spatial dimensions?" her uncle challenges her.

"Well...no. But my father never mentioned anything like that."

"He would not know," Itachi asserts. "It is information passed on only to members of the Uchiha clan who awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan."

"But Papa has that."

"He did not have it before the destruction of the clan," Itachi says shortly. "And I suspect I am not alive in the future to relay the information personally." Noting Sarada's surprise, he continues, "The only way you can exist is if I am dead in the future. Sasuke would not be so quick to restore the clan if he thought it were in danger."

It is left unsaid that her father considered Itachi just such a danger.

Sarada can't understand the older Uchiha's utter acceptance of this fact. She doesn't think she would ever understand this man, even if she had been given the chance to grow up with him around.

"So...so this time-travel ability," she ventures, "how exactly did it work? And why was it so secret?"

"There is an evolved Sharingan technique known as Izanagi," Itachi tells her. She has never heard of this before, and so he elaborates, "It is an old ability which permits one to change illusion to reality. When wielded to maximum effect, a Sharingan using Izanagi can go back several moments in time and change the outcome of an unfavorable situation."

Sarada's eyes widen. "No way!"

"It is only possible to manipulate that time for seconds, but the technique itself can be reused over and over in different subsequent timelines. In the past, the Uchiha used it to such excess that a countermeasure was developed—Izanami."

"Then we can use that to stop the time-bubble!" Sarada exclaims in relief.

"I never said that what is causing the temporal phenomenon is Izanagi," Itachi warns her with a shake of the head, which makes her shoulders sag. "But I do believe it is the next progression of it. And if it is...it means Izanami would be powerless against it."

His tone tells her what a monumentally bad thing that would be.

つづく

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