Living through the times,
The clan was full of life.
Made it for a way,
Then came the strife.
Itachi watched as his clan tried in vain to protect themselves and those around him. He saw them all coming, his sharingan activated, ready to block any jutsu they might throw at him. However, he never gave them the time. Whenever he would see one, they would die, be it by shuriken, kunai, or sword. None could stand against him.
It came to a place,
With bloody sand, red like fire.
The blood of his parents pooled around his feet. He had done it. He had found his capabilities. He had slain the most powerful clan in Konoha, but something was missing…
There was only one person,
Who had not died by his hand.
He made the journey home,
Now the last of his clan.
Sasuke was scared. He was looking at his brother's form, standing over his parents' dead bodies. "Brother," he had said, crying. A shuriken flew past him, grazing his cheek. "How could you do this?"
Itachi walked to his brother. "To see what I was capable of." And with that, he left. As he went, he added, "Let your hatred grow brother. Come to me and try to kill me when you are strong enough. Avenge your clan."