Innocence, a naruto fanfic

Hiya!

Happy New Year!

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SPOILER ALERT!

PLEASE READ THIS FIRST!

To enjoy this story to its maximum capacity… And for me to avoid ruining Naruto Shippuden for anyone, please, PLEASE have read the manga up to CHAPTER 402.

There are important events that happen right up to this chapter, which I'm sure everyone who's read to this point knows about, that I WILL make reference to. NOTE: At this time, Chapter 402 is far beyond the storyline of the anime!

So I've given you your fair warning! If you haven't yet read up to Chapter 402 and still insist on reading this, and are thusly spoiled by some aspect of my story, I'm sorry, but I have forewarned you!

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NOW! Getting down to the story!

I admit, this is very much a catharsis for me :3

I recently read Naruto: Shippuden up to Chapter 402 and after staring blankly at nothing for an hour I came up with THIS idea.

Oh my…

At any rate, I hope this helps get that nagging itchy 'need to write' feeling out of my system ;P

Enjoy!

:.: .:. :.: .:. :.: .:. :.: .INNOCENCE. :.: .:. :.: .:. :.: .:. :.:

By Sholay

Itachi had watched Sasuke since he was a child. With bland, insipid eyes, Itachi watched his brother grow, flourish and thrive on the hatred Itachi himself had planted. He believed he had destroyed Sasuke's innocence and, in so doing, had destroyed himself. This endless circle of self-destruction: it was the nature of their brotherhood. A look at the psychology that is Itachi. No Yaoi. Oneshot. Please note the Spoiler Warning for Chapter 402.

Disclaimer: Naruto and all related characters are the property of Masashi Kishimoto. I do not claim ownership of these characters; I'm merely borrowing them for a short while to extrapolate on some unresolved issues I found in the manga.

:.: .:. :.:

Itachi knew the sickness would kill him.

From the relentless bouts of coughing to the way he woke up every morning clutching at his searing eyes—burning, itching, insatiably, as though countless tiny needles were being continuously thrusted in and out of his eyeballs—they were all signs. Signs that he knew would bring his eventual undoing; his own, personal, divine judgement.

There was nothing to say about it. Itachi cared not for the concern of others, nor would he have likely received it from anyone. His partner, Kisame, was no exception. The man held respect for Itachi only as long as the latter remained the stronger of the two. The day Itachi revealed otherwise would likely have shortened his already stunted existence significantly.

And that would have been unacceptable.

To Itachi, life was much like building a house. To begin, one had to start at the ground, the origin. Giving birth to a house on unstable earth would cause the house to crumble, whereas solid earth would give rise to a glorious house. After that, one had to lay the plans and foundations. These determined how speedy the house would be built, or how slow. Then, once the foundations were in place, one could begin building the house. The house would be fashioned in whatever way the owner—the caregiver—pleased and furnished to one's delight. But once the construction was finished, and the metal scaffolding taken away, the house was resolute. What was built was what would remain. Forever. One could change the interior, alter the colors, patterns and whatever else, but the foundations and outer-walls would never change. One had to live with what they created—from whom they were created—what choices they made, the paths they walked; because short of destroying the entire building, there was no way to go back and start over.

Itachi had always figured—in that dismissive, idle way that most transient thoughts passed through his mind—that this was why his own mind was structured like a house.

It was a specific training, unique to the best genjutsu users—those that manipulated the very sight and mind of their victim—and those gifted with the Kekkei Genkai, bloodline gift, Sharingan. It involved meditation at the deepest level, where one must force every Earthly desire, every feeling, every emotion, every sense, out of the mind. Only with the most extreme level of self control and natural willpower could this level of meditation occur. At this point, the world ceases to exist, time ceases to exist, and the bearer is imbued with the wondrous vision of Sunyata or The State of Complete Emptiness.

Only upon gaining this complete emptiness does one become open to the powers of the spirit, of the mind. And then… and then one could enter a new world.

It was a universe of the self: the single, most fitting home for the individual's soul, the place which housed both loves and fears, desires and hates alike.

For Itachi, this place was literally a house. His house in fact, the Uchiha compound: perfect and flawless as it had been so many years ago before that fateful night.

That night.

:.: .:. :.:

"Brother? Brother? Where are you?" A child's voice calls helplessly through the night. Terror, thick and painful, makes the tremulous voice pitiful.

"Brother! Oh, there you are!" The voice, interlaced with heavy panting, catches at the end in obvious relief.

"Brother, please! Please help! Someone… Someone hurt Mother and Father! Please, you have to help them. Make them wake up…" The young voice begs, pleading in the helpless, hopeful tone only a child would use.

"… Please…" Sobs begin to break up the words.

"…Brother?" Confusion now, and quickened breaths. "What… what are you holding?" Disbelief. Fear.

Light, fickle and feeble, wavers past a hole torn in paper walls—and shimmers off the edge of something long and smooth.

"Big brother?" A look, one of painful innocence begging not to broken.

Drip…

Drip… The only sound in the room: that of wet, viscous blood rolling off the sword—gleaming, shining; macabre laughter of the inanimate—splattering across the wooden floor.

"No… no, you couldn't…" The hoarse voice chokes in a gasping cry. A stumble; backward.

The sword tilts, catches the light. The reflection alights on a too pale face and trembling lips; illuminating twin tracks of silver trailing down from huge eyes. Purity: physically leaking out from a wounded soul.

"Brother, why?"

:.: .:. :.:

The Uchiha house had two levels. The lower contained the meeting room, kitchen, library and various other utility areas, while the upstairs was sequestered for the bedrooms. Within Sunyata, every detail of his house—down to the very last ornate paper lantern—was in perfect, pristine condition. Just as Itachi remembered his mother would keep it.

Itachi often spent his time on the lower levels; but sometimes, out of bland intent for change, Itachi would deign to walk the upper floor. Barely a cursory glance would be spared at his parents' room—it, after all, was mostly empty of items or personal belongings, save the bare furniture—and Itachi's own room held no personal interest to him. Inevitably though, as it was situated at the end of hall, Itachi would reach the door of Sasuke. Unique in the way that the door was closed, Sasuke's was also the only room to have a bar and chain lock securing its contents from Itachi's sight. Itachi would watch the door insipidly for mere seconds before recalling his general disinterest in the upstairs and dissolving the mind-world around him.

Regularly though, Itachi would return to roam the vast halls of the Uchiha library. Row upon row of endless books: knowledge and skills, all available for him to pursue at his own leisure. It was a serene feeling: the consistency of these books and scrolls, the potential to know even more than his vast mind had already accomplished.

And it was within these very shelves that Itachi had learned the true location of the Sword of Totsuka.

A spiritual sword: the Sword of Totsuka had no true physical form, yet it existed in the physical world. How?

Itachi had—with the same intensity that he undertook all his studies—delved deep into the arts of Sunyata, falling deeper and deeper into a meditative state until he would literally remain separated from the world for days. Kisame was driven insane by these eccentric habits, but Itachi would always rise for, and successfully complete, any mission the leader set for him; so there really was nothing Kisame could complain about—save the lack of companionship.

Not that Itachi regularly made for a good companion, but that was neither here nor there.

Within his meditative state, Itachi visualized the sword. Dimensions, balance, colour; there were no flaws in Itachi's vision. And for weeks the sword was all he would meditate on… rotating, shining in his mind, the sword slowly took shape. From two dimensions to three it gradually came into sharper and sharper focus.

Until one day: when Itachi opened his eyes and the sword had lain, naked and very much in existence, before him. A mass of swirling chakra and ambient energies converging to form a blade like no other.

The Sword of Totsuka, with the power to put any spirit, living or undead, to slumber forever.

:.: .:. :.:

"But Brother! You said you'd help me with my weapons training today! You're the best at it, not even Father can beat you!"

:.: .:. :.:

But creating the Sword of Totsuka by the strength of sheer willpower had had a tolling effect on him. Itachi had spent the next five days unconscious on a bed in the medical wing. It had caused serious suspicion within the ranks of Akatsuki, as Itachi had missed a mission because of it. When he awoke, he'd been brought to Madara himself for an explanation and Itachi had said—using as few words as possible; since talking to Uchiha Madara was distasteful to Itachi in the slightest of doses—that his use of the Mangekyou Sharingan had led to his imminent collapse and that it would not happen again.

Madara had been satisfied, and Itachi had made certain he never exhausted himself to near collapse again.

After all, there were only so many times a subordinate could disobey the elder and get away with it.

And truly, Itachi knew he was a follower—had been since his earliest days at the ninja academy. Genius or no, prodigy or dunce, if life were a game of Shogi, Itachi would have been a bishop: terribly useful for long, damaging strikes across the board, but first to be targeted by the enemy and easily sacrificed by his own.

Itachi was a follower and had long since accepted this fate. He had not the desire to lead nor the natural charisma to make people follow. Itachi was quiet, soft-spoken and undeniably frightening. The other members of the Akatsuki knew him and feared his infamous eyes—and for good reason: Itachi was not one to restrain himself in combat. But fear inspired sycophancy, not loyalty, and so Itachi left those roles to people like the Hokage, the Elders, Madara and Pein. People who excelled in swaying others with impassioned speeches of disingenuous ideals.

It would sometimes occur to Itachi, vaguely—with the misty consistency of a dream—that Sasuke too, did not like to bother with such frivolous things. Yet, quite intriguingly, Sasuke had managed to inspire a substantial amount of loyalty without any apparent effort on his part.

With a single glance, Sasuke could quell the murderous rage of Juugo. A few monotonous words murmured and the sociopathic Suigetsu was calm, his deadly desire stayed. And with barely more than a step into the room, Karin, who could maintain an entire prison of strong men without batting an eyelid, had turned to butter and melted before Sasuke.

Much to Sasuke's chagrin, Itachi would bet. A small, wry smirk would quirk the corners of Itachi's lips as he would amuse himself with this thought. His poor, naïve, little brother. If there was one thing Sasuke would forever remain clueless to, it was women. The kid had no idea why girls chased him around and was oblivious to the fact that ignoring them probably only had the opposite effect of making them want him more. Many boys would have loved to be in Sasuke's place, and indeed, would have been crude enough to take advantage of it. But Sasuke was above this; he did not use people in the interest of throwing them away later. It was not his way.

:.: .:. :.:

"Hey, hey! Big brother! Why are those girls following me around all time? Last time one of them just jumped out and hugged me for no reason! Then they all started arguing and grabbing at my arms; I had to run away and hide in the washroom to get away!" The little boy looks like he'd just been through some terrible ordeal: his big, dark eyes are wide and scared, his clothes are rumpled and he keeps looking back over his shoulder with the flighty paranoia of the hunted.

The boy looks up then as another voice responded to his query. After a few seconds, a sudden, vibrant flush spreads over the boy's round cheeks.

"I am not cute!" Comes the indignant cry.

:.: .:. :.:

Itachi would realize then that the smirk on his face had come dangerously close to forming something more honest and, like so many other times before, the expression would melt away from his features, leaving nothing but a vague look of apathetic disdain in its place.

Itachi spent much of his time at Akatsuki in his own company. The other members did not much interest him—their vulgar, violent tendencies were all too indicative of the base cur they were—and Itachi was not in the habit of spending his time on such wasteful, poor examples of the human race. No, Itachi had much better things to do with his time.

Sasuke.

Inevitably, invariably, there was always one thing that would act as the beach upon which his ocean of thoughts would shatter. His little brother, Sasuke.

:.: .:. :.:

"Brother… why?" Wide, teary eyes—unknowingly accusing in their refusal to believe, their blind trust in the other's virtue—loose focus and glaze over.

"Forgive me, Sasuke."

A body falls, crumples, and doesn't rise.

:.: .:. :.:

Akatsuki had a goal, a vile dream of war and world domination. Itachi knew he had helped the group take significant steps toward the accomplishment of this goal. Once, this would have disgusted him, the very thought of war repulsing him in the highest way. But not anymore. With so many years of spying, treachery and deceit, Itachi had grown cynical. This world was full of vile people: self-interested, pugnacious slime who thought nothing of taking life in the interest of furthering themselves. Once Itachi had abhorred the thought of any human death, but over time he had begun to question the worth of these people's lives. They lived to cause conflict; their very existence was to create strife in the world. Where was the worth in such a life?

And with time, Itachi himself had become a murderer. Within his own, old, childish views, he had become the 'bad guy'. And he accepted this. He had accepted this ever since he'd taken the lives of his parents into his own hands and—like with the last dregs of a flickering flame—snuffed them out of existence… Ever since he'd watched the event play back, over and over, endlessly in his own younger brother's eyes… Ever since he had stripped the innocence from his younger brother; changing him irrevocably into the angry, bitter teen he'd become.

Interesting though, that despite all the hatred and death he'd been surrounded by… or perhaps in spite of it, Sasuke himself had never taken a life.

It was true. Itachi had heard rumours, of a terrifying soldier training under the wing of Orochimaru—that name never failed to bring a contemptuous curl to his lips—a student of prodigal talent and peerless intelligence. Orochimaru's right hand and strongest fighter. Tales were told of this force of nature, which said that field of trained ninja could not stand in the way of this student, and that Orochimaru himself often had to drug the prodigy to keep him under control; for it was well known that—in spite of the snake Sannin's desperate hunger for his student—Orochimaru undeniably feared the talents of this youth.

Uchiha Sasuke, Orochimaru's best student and future container, could take down hundreds of ninja without getting a single scratch on him… and without killing a single one.

No one else Itachi knew could boast such a record… No one else Itachi knew would want to boast such a record. But Sasuke was unique. Itachi had always known that.

:.: .:. :.:

A small figure huddles on the porch of the Uchiha compound. Knees tucked up and head buried in tiny arms, the figure sits pressed against a wooden pillar motionlessly, as though wishing to become part of the very woodwork. The boy raises his head briefly as someone sits next to him, but lowers his eyes almost immediately.

"Oh… ohayo, Itachi-niisan." 'Good morning, brother Itachi'. The boy murmurs to his feet.

A question is asked, and though the boy listens, he doesn't answer for many minutes. Finally, with some probing, the small child begins to speak.

"We… we had kunai training today at the academy… And we were supposed to throw them at moving targets." The boy's voice quivers. "They brought us to the lake and had some of us disturb the water while others threw kunai at the fish." Here the child pauses for many long moments. "They said we would eat the fish we caught, and all the other kids were so excited about it…" Suddenly the boy looks up into the other's eyes, his huge, round orbs urging the other to understand. "I tried to do it; I really did! But I just… I just…"

The boy looks down and picks a blade of grass, shredding it slowly between his fingers. Seconds pass, and then a quiet voice coaxes the boy to continue.

"I always like going to that lake and looking at the fish swimming there." The boy says softly, spreading his hand and letting the wind take the shredded grass, swirling it through the air. "They look so pretty and calm, with their shiny scales… I just… didn't want to hurt them." Another question is asked, and the boy sighs. "I threw the kunai wrong… and almost hit one of the kids in the lake. Iruka-sensei made me sit out for the rest of the lesson. I had to take a letter home."

A long tense silence follows.

"Father was really mad." The boy admits then, quietly. The other voice sighs.

The boy looks up then, straight into the other's eyes. "Itachi-niisan? I did the right thing… didn't I? I mean, they said we would eat the fish, but there were lots left over and those were just thrown away. It made no sense. Why do we have to hurt and kill something if there's no reason to do it? It's wrong… It is wrong… right?"

Itachi had never seen such an innocent stare.

:.: .:. :.:

Akatsuki was systematically gathering the nine demon Bijuu and any respective Jinchuuriki. This led Itachi's mind meandering back to the container of the Kyuubi. Uzumaki Naruto,Jinchuuriki,container, for the nine-tailed demon fox. An idealistic fool, if there ever was one. But also of relative intrigue to Itachi. Mainly because of his devotion to Sasuke. Him, and that fangirl, Sakura and Kakashi. Unbelievable really, that they'd searched for three years to find Sasuke, a period of time longer than that which they'd even known him.

Itachi remembered asking Naruto what it was about his brother that inspired such loyalty. On a whim, he had tracked down Naruto, cornered him and fended off his impulsive attacks just to know the answer to that one question. Itachi knew Sasuke was not social—was not pleasant to be around in the least. That happy, carefree child from his youth was gone, replaced by this shell of a person. A consequence of his actions Itachi had never foreseen.

When Itachi had shown Sasuke their parents' murder, and told his younger brother to hate him, Itachi had sought to instil a new purpose into Sasuke's life… to save his brother from falling into deep depression. Itachi knew that he would be leaving Sasuke with nothing. But he had hoped, had prayed—like the idealistic teen he'd been—that the Hokage would look after his younger brother, as a sort of reconciliation for what the Elders of Konoha had asked Itachi to do. It was the least they could have done: Itachi had assassinated his family on their order; it wasn't much to ask that they look after the one person he'd left alive. The only true Uchiha left alive, or, in Itachi's opinion, the only person who would ever have a chance of restoring honour to the family name.

His innocent little brother, Sasuke.

But when Itachi had returned, half a year later—as promised to the Elders—for his update on the movements of Akatsuki, he had been horrified with what he'd seen. Sasuke, his little Sasuke, was living, alone, in the ruins of the old Uchiha compound. Surrounded by the dead spirits of his loved ones, Sasuke—a mere boy of nine—would walk home every day to this silent, depressing scene. Itachi himself had tried entering the compound, and had drawn back immediately as the nauseous feeling of lingering death and souls at unrest had overwhelmed him. How could Sasuke live in such a place? How could the Elders, so intent on the peace and well-being of Konoha, allow such a thing?

But Itachi had been warned to stay away. Sasuke was no longer of his concern and he should not dwell on the past which he'd put behind him.

Itachi, obedient and submissive as always, had listened. But before leaving Konoha, he observed Sasuke one more time, as the boy wandered through the village.

And Itachi saw. He saw how the people turned away; how they spared long, distrustful gazes at the last Uchiha before gossiping behind their hands and pointing. He saw how Sasuke shrank away from the negative attention and withdrew further into himself. Then, at school, Itachi saw how Sasuke had improved. Once clumsy and awkward, Sasuke now had the grace of a swan and the deadly accuracy of a panther. He was hailed as the resident prodigy and acclaimed as the number one rookie of the year. Itachi had felt his heart swell as he secretly watched Sasuke's target training, each weapon hitting the target with perfect precision. Itachi longed to jump out there and declare to the world that this was his little brother, his little Sasuke, smartest of them all. He longed to show off Sasuke proudly and give him a piggyback ride through the streets like a true brother.

But Itachi knew that he had long since lost the right to any of these things.

As Itachi had watched Sasuke further though, he had realized, quietly, a very prominent change in the boy. When Sasuke landed, after nailing five perfect shots in a row, there was no resulting smile of happiness, no hint of satisfaction. The boy merely stared blankly at the target with dark, fathomless eyes, as though what he'd just accomplished was nothing. The girls squealed and the boys glared and Sasuke said nothing. Without even a look back, he turned and walked to the benches and sat down, putting his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers under his nose, watching the rest of the group with listless, but undeniably sharp, eyes.

Itachi had not been prepared for this change in his younger brother, and it shocked him deeply. Since when did Sasuke act so serious? And when did he start sitting like that? Why? How? It was like Itachi had missed an entire chapter of Sasuke's life, an entire existence that was gone now, never to be retrieved again. The little brother he had known was gone.

And it was with a heavy heart that Itachi then followed the class to the lake, so he could watch their kunai training on moving targets. Within the mists of his own thoughts, Itachi vaguely saw Sasuke head up to the throwing point and stop. At this hesitation, Itachi perked up, looking desperately with a glimmer of hope. As Sasuke raised the weapon, aimed, Itachi felt his heart clench and the moment froze for what seemed like an eternity.

Then, with the likeness of someone waking from a dream, Sasuke blinked and looked up, his eyes gaining the look of life back in them. The hand lowered, kunai clutched in a tight fist, knuckles slowly turning white, and with a swift motion Sasuke turned and stalked back to Iruka, shoving the kunai back into the teacher's hands while muttering some excuse before nearly fleeing the area.

Itachi hadn't grinned so widely in years.

In the following visits though, Itachi slowly found less and less to be happy about. He was helpless as he watched his only brother falling deeper into apathy and disinterest in the world. Sasuke watched the people around him with closed eyes. Almost nothing was left of the boy Itachi once knew; and it saddened him. But Sasuke made steady progress through the academy and for that, Itachi was proud.

The elder Uchiha had come to realize something about the Konoha Elders: they feared people with power.

Itachi himself had been the first with such astounding prodigal talent, and naturally he had passed quickly through the school system. But Itachi was as much a boon for the Elders as a bane. He had grown to suspect that the Elders had chosen him to act as their spy on purpose, not just because of his youthful ideals for peace, but also because he was the only wildcard in the Clan. Itachi was a prodigy, he had always known this. More than that, he was the heir to the Clan and, put together, these two facts combined to form unbelievable potential.

To the Clan he was their answer to decades of prayers: a one in a million chance at honour, prestige and guaranteed change in the structure of the family. But with great knowledge and expectation came great isolation and mistrust. In the same breath that they praised his talent, the family scorned it. Every achievement was expected but every mistake would bring a thousand sins upon his head. They desired salvation from him, but treated him like an outsider. His worth was measured in points on a training target; while Sasuke's was not measured at all.

But while he was the dubious messiah of his Clan, to the Elders he was a dangerous jian, a double edged sword, in the hands of an amateur. In all likelihood, he could have served Konoha well, been a fine tool, but in the end it all came done to disposability: the Elders simply did not have the power to eliminate Itachi, so they made it so that Itachi himself left the village.

Now there was Sasuke. Sasuke had never been a genius. Never would. It was the law of their childhood: Sasuke was good, but Itachi was better. Sasuke was excellent, but Itachi was extraordinary. And in a clan like the Uchiha, nothing but perfection was acceptable—certainly no less was even seen by their father. Itachi was perfect, it was simply his way, and with that position completely filled in their family, it seemed like there was no room in their household for Sasuke—who, in all likelihood, had only been conceived in the possibility that Itachi would fail, or die, before his time to succeed.

A replacement.

:.: .:. :.:

Sasuke is returning home from his first day at the academy. Itachi can see him, face hidden in his bangs as he heads around the house to enter through the back.

Itachi is in a relatively good mood that day: the Elders had not asked him to do anything untoward and his Father was feeling rather satisfied with recent political matters. It seemed that the Hokage's decision to place more sovereign power in the Uchiha's hands had pleased his Father. And with the ropes that usually bound Itachi's wrists—pulling him in opposing directions—slackened, he is feeling a lot more like acting like the teenager he is.

"Hey, Sasuke." Itachi calls, barely registering how Sasuke freezes upon hearing his name. "I promised you I'd teach you shuriken techniques today, didn't I? Well, let's go."

"A-a-ah…" Sasuke's voice waveres and Itachi looks up with a frown. Sasuke is still standing very far away and his head is turned from Itachi's view. What is going on with him? "W-we don't h-have to…I m-mean I'm pretty… pretty good already in class… so…" Sasuke's sad voice tells a very different story to his words.

"Sasuke, come over here." Itachi motions with his hand and Sasuke, not in the habit of disobeying his elder brother, comes immediately. But even while standing directly in front of Itachi, Sasuke hangs his head so his dark hair covers his eyes. Now Itachi is sure something is wrong. "Why aren't you looking at me?"

Sasuke mumbles something incoherent.

Itachi puts a hand to Sasuke's chin and tilts his head up.

A hiss of air passes between his teeth.

"Sasuke…"

Sasuke turns his head away in shame, hiding the darkened skin of his black eye, but this only gives Itachi a better view of the long, scabbing cut on his brother's other cheek.

"Sasuke, who…?" Itachi, still holding Sasuke's chin, moves his fingers to graze over the cut. Sasuke places a hand to the cheek, and reveals yet more wounds on his knuckles. "Sasuke." Itachi's voice hardens and he grasps Sasuke's raised hand. "Where else are you hurt?"

Sasuke cringes as Itachi's hand tightens around his. "It-Itachi-niisan…" He says in a very small voice. "C-can you… Please don't hold my hand… My wrist…"

Sighing, Itachi gently takes his hand off Sasuke's, and as he does he notices the swelling around his wrist… probably a sprain. "Where else?"

"My… stomach, a little." Sasuke presses his uninjured hand to the spot. "And my neck, I think." He raises the hand to pull aside his collar so Itachi can see the long, thin, blackened bruises, probably caused from someone grabbing the top of Sasuke's shirt and strangling the boy with it.

Itachi's eyes darken.

"These bruises are old. At least a day." He says, then pins Sasuke with a stern stare. Sasuke flinches. "Explain yourself."

"Y-yesterday w-was…" Sasuke stops and takes a deep breath to steady himself. "Yesterday was my entrance ceremony into the academy. And you and Father came." At this last part, a quiet, happy smile alights on Sasuke's face. It is the hapless, unreasonably happy smile of a neglected child that had gotten a pat on his head and Itachi has to look away. "But you both had to leave early…" The smile fades. "And when I went back…" Sasuke doesn't continue.

Itachi remembers. Their Father had gotten an emergency call from the Police Department and had demanded Itachi come with him. Itachi had gone, reluctantly, but he had assumed someone would at least have had the presence of mind, or the courtesy, to escort his brother home!

"No one walked you home?" Itachi asks, lowly. "Not even Iruka-sensei?"

Sasuke looks away. "I… didn't want to ask for any help…"

Itachi resists the urge to snap at his brother. It isn't his fault. That ideology—'Uchiha never ask the help of anyone'—it is an old adage of their Father's, and one that he would repeat constantly, especially to Sasuke whose insatiable desire to learn beyond his ability had him seeking advice from even those outside of the family.

"So you walked home, alone, at night?" Itachi says quietly. Sasuke nods. Itachi shows his displeasure in a sharp puff of air through his tightened lips. Sasuke should not have gone home alone. But even still, Konoha is a relatively safe village, and the Uchiha compound isn't very far from the Academy… "Who did this?"

Sasuke's breath catches. He doesn't reply.

"Sasuke." Itachi doesn't raise his voice but adds a certain inflection, one that tells Sasuke he'd had enough of his little brother's nonsense and would appreciate a straightforward response. Sasuke immediately responds.

"I ran into Yashiro and his friends as I was getting home… they… aah… they were a little… drunk." Sasuke pinks.

Itachi's eyebrows rise. He knows that name. "Yashiro, Tekka and Inabi? You mean them?" Sasuke nods, slowly.

Itachi exhales. So… their jealous cousins were taking their rage out on his little brother? He would deal with them tomorrow. But for now…

Itachi puts his hands on his knees and pushes himself to his feet.

"Brother…?" Sasuke looks up at him.

"I'm taking you to the medic." Itachi says simply; and he kneels down, his back to Sasuke. "Hop on."

He doesn't need to see Sasuke to know that his little brother is beaming. Sasuke loves little gestures of affection like this—why, Itachi would never understand. Sasuke puts his arms around Itachi's neck, wraps his legs around his waist and buries his head in Itachi's shoulder. Itachi hefts the boy, careful of his injuries, and stands.

"After that I'll take you to have some dango, sound good?" Itachi feels Sasuke nod into his shoulder and can't suppress a twitching at the corner of his lips.

It is their little tradition: whenever things get too difficult—whether it is their parents fighting, school, Itachi's work or anything that make life's burden a little too heavy to bear—Itachi would take Sasuke out for sweets. And they would talk, Sasuke would laugh and Itachi would allow himself to relax. Together they would take themselves out of reality—exist in a world that was purely their own and no one else's—and, even if it is only for a few moments, it is worth it.

Because it is only moments like these that keep Itachi sane.

Looking over his shoulder, Itachi raises one hand and ruffles Sasuke's hair. His little brother looks up and grins, not even the swollen bruise on his eye and the cut on his cheek can dim such a shining light.

But Itachi fears what will.

And he fears it will be him.

:.: .:. :.:

Itachi had seen past the numbers and standardizations that made up Sasuke's academic file. Perhaps he did not glow with overwhelming talent as Itachi did; but the potential was definitely there. In fact, Itachi could easily say that Sasuke trained harder than he himself ever had at that age; and with the way he was progressing, the young boy would certainly one day surpass Itachi.

That thought pleased Itachi.

It occurred to him that maybe he felt satisfaction because Sasuke would grossly exceed the non-existent expectations their father had once had of him, but Itachi would let that thought idly flake off his mind as soon as it had come: it did not do to speak ill of the dead.

But the elders no doubt feared Sasuke's extraordinary potential, and therefore tried to stunt his growth as much as possible. Itachi was willing to bet that had Sasuke not been as obviously brilliant as he was, the Elders would have had no problem in holding him back a few years. It grated on Itachi's spine, how they could be so prejudiced against Sasuke, who had nothing to warrant such cruel behaviour… but there was nothing he could do.

So, Itachi watched in silence, as Sasuke receded further into himself, festering and stewing in the cold bitterness Itachi himself had planted in him. And Itachi felt parts of himself disappear alongside Sasuke as his own disdain for the world grew.

But every year, when kunai training came about at the lake, Itachi would watch with baited breath, to see if the last symbol of the Sasuke he had known was still there. And each year he would sigh with quiet relief as Sasuke turned away from the lake, kunai clenched ever harder in his white fist.

Until one year. The year Sasuke turned 12. The year he was going to graduate from the academy after being denied the final exam three times in a row. Something in Sasuke had changed. It was obvious even to Itachi, who was only able to see him once every six months. Something in his little brother's eyes had altered, making them darker, more aware. Perhaps Sasuke had begun to suspect the true reason why he'd been held back in the exams. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Sasuke had always been pale, but now he was as white as a ghost; his eyes held a look of perpetual distaste, and his mouth was draw into a thin, stern line.

His posture too, had altered. No longer did he hold himself with the high, pin straight posture their father had instilled into them. Instead, Sasuke walked with his hands in his pockets and stood in an arrogant slouch that pulled his shoulders backward. Itachi would never know what had happened to change Sasuke; it was something that would be forever missed from his life. But when Itachi saw Sasuke point and throw his kunai straight into the heart of the fish, pinning it, still writhing, deep into the bark of the tree, Itachi's vision of little, eight-year old Sasuke, with bright eyes and too-soft heart, melted—dripping down into a ruined deformation—like hot wax.

Itachi had blamed himself, and told himself that he had done nothing to help Sasuke by sparing his life. Already Sasuke was exhibiting behavioural habits eerily similar to his own. What if Sasuke became like him? What then? He had spared his brother only to ruin him. Now could he kill his brother to save him?

The answer came in that cheap little hotel outside of Konoha. When Itachi and Kisame had tracked down Naruto with the intent to extract the demon fox, Kyuubi, Itachi instead had ended up getting into close combat with his brother.

Sasuke had been a disappointment. With reckless abandon he had attacked Itachi, had let his emotions get the better of him. Itachi even believed that Sasuke had been nervous, and somewhat eager to prove himself to his older brother. It had pulled at Itachi in a way that was not comfortable, to see his little brother prostrate at his feet, coughing up blood. And when he'd lifted Sasuke up he swore to himself that Sasuke would not, ever, want for Itachi's approval. Itachi did not deserve it. Itachi had hefted Sasuke then—pinned him by the neck against a wall—and mocked his hatred. And Sasuke's eyes had opened wide.

Barriers stripped away, Sasuke had been left a confused, vulnerable child in the hands of his once beloved older brother. Itachi could have said anything then—could have told him the truth—and Sasuke would have believed him. But Itachi did not deserve Sasuke's love.

Itachi had decided.

Sasuke would be his judgement, the reaper's scythe that came to end his wretched life; and for that, Sasuke needed to hate him. So Itachi steeled himself and attacked Sasuke in the one place he knew would hurt most: by forcing him to see again, and again, and again in an endless loop, the night of their parents' death.

Sasuke needed to be aware of what Itachi had done, needed to feel the full weight of it. Itachi could not be allowed to live for having committed such a heinous act as their own parents' murder. Itachi deserved nothing less than death for his crime. Sasuke needed to see that.

But never, never had Itachi considered the possibility that his actions may have driven Sasuke too far. That he had broken something deep inside Sasuke; and that was his desire to live. Itachi never, ever thought that Sasuke would willingly offer himself up—body and soul—to Orochimaru, the vilest of all belly crawling creatures that walked the Earth.

Itachi remembered Orochimaru. Orochimaru. Once a member of Akatsuki, it had been Itachi's inevitable displeasure to come into his company. Out of the entire, teeming cesspool that made up the filthiest of the world's offering of humans, Orochimaru was at the very bottom. A more foul creature Itachi had never seen and likely never would.

With the buttery, seductive voice of a woman, Orochimaru whispered promises and generosity in the ear of his hapless victim with that forked tongue of his. Truth and lies interwove in Orochimaru's charismatic speeches until morals and beliefs had no more meaning and Orochimaru's word was everything. And then, the fangs of the snake would show themselves— dripping viscous venom; wet and gleaming—and descend, devouring, swallowing the victim and digesting until there was nothing left.

A game, Orochimaru had called it. A complex game of exotic, western chess, where the pieces themselves were living people. There was no better thrill, Orochimaru had said, than to have complete control over a person's life, to be able to manipulate them, influence them, in any way he wanted… and to ultimately destroy them and take what was once theirs for his own. It was addictive—and Orochimaru had run his abnormally long tongue over his lips—like a beautiful red wine, aged to perfection, and enjoyed with the reverence one would pay to God.

When Itachi had met Orochimaru, he had been repulsed by this man… A legendary Sannin of Konoha? His very existence was a pox on the great Village to which Itachi had given his loyalty… more than given, had subjugated himself.

But Itachi could not cause dissent in the ranks of Akatsuki, as his position was still relatively fragile. So, it was with disdainful reluctance that Itachi bore Orochimaru's intrigue… And his many, incessant questions.

Like a bloodsucking leech, Orochimaru stalked Itachi's footsteps tirelessly. Often he would make petty conversation—mostly one-sided on his part—about frivolous things. But other times he would make careful, personal insinuations, designed to catch Itachi off-guard: specific questions about his family, or details about Sasuke that he should not have known. It was one of these sly comments that eventually made Itachi turn around and force one of his most horrible visions onto Orochimaru.

Three days of being boiled alive. Three long, unending days of having his blood bubble, his fingernails melt, his skin crack and peel layer, after layer. Shedding like all the bodies he'd possessed. A snake, through and through, and he would die like one.

But when the power of Mangekyou ended, Orochimaru was still standing, panting heavily, but laughing. It was true that Itachi was the more talented of the two, and that his genjutsu was probably beyond anything Orochimaru could have ever imagined. But Orochimaru was older, more experienced, and had swallowed more jutsu in his lifetime than Itachi's Sharingan had copied. Orochimaru had put himself through some of the most excruciating experiments known to man, and like all people exposed to too much power and too much physical pain—had caused irreparable damage to his brain. Insanity. Itachi had never known the meaning of the word until he'd met this man.

Exquisite. Orochimaru had called it: the pain of being boiled alive in the Mangekyou Sharingan. It was terrifyingly real, more than any other genjutsu Orochimaru had ever experienced. The simple fact that, for a moment, he'd believed it was real left a delicious taste in his mouth. And Orochimaru had spat out a glob of phlegmy blood, chuckling at his own witticism.

And Itachi had seen, clear as day in his sickly yellow snake-eyes, unbridled desire. Lust, craving and everything base: the desire for Itachi's eyes, his Sharingan, and every power it held.

Itachi had prepared himself for a fight then. It had seemed unavoidable: like the starved dog will chase even the ferocious lion, it seemed that Orochimaru would challenge Itachi's Sharingan in an effort to claim Itachi's body as his own.

But Orochimaru had made no move to attack Itachi. Instead, he had turned—a sinuous smile stretching his thin, borrowed lips—and left. Never to return to Akatsuki again.

Orochimaru had been famed for his ability to twist and contort even the most basic of realities into something unknown. He would choose his targets and pursue them endlessly, ceaselessly, but never would he physically force them to come to him. Orochimaru found physical persuasion made for temporary, flighty and rebellious subordinates. So whosoever came to him came out of choice… whether they made that choice in their right mind or not, was irrelevant. Regardless of how it was made, they would forever be trapped by the weight of that choice.

But never, never had Orochimaru tried his wiles on Itachi. Once he had entertained the belief that Orochimaru found him too powerful, but now he knew he had probably just been too old for Orochimaru's taste.

But Itachi had seen Orochimaru weave his complex web around others. He took what was pure and innocent and destroyed it in a crushing blow, then skillfully rebuilt it in a likeness that pleased him.

It was only with this last realization that Itachi remembered Sasuke. He remembered how Orochimaru had known things about his little brother… where he slept, the fact that he didn't like sweets, how he passed his genin exam at the top of his class… And Itachi's blood had ran hot, then rapidly cold.

By then it had already been too late.

:.: .:. :.:

"Big brother! Hey! Look what I found!" Sasuke comes barrelling down the lawn towards the house, leaping through patches of long grass and probably getting green stains and cuts all across his lower legs. Not that he appears to care. One of his arms is curled protectively around his chest as he runs.

Sasuke skids to a stop before Itachi, leaning over and putting a hand on his knee as he pants. Looking up, Sasuke flashes a bright grin then pushes his bangs back, leaving a smudge of dirt over one eye.

Itachi watches, his expression blank, looking down at his little brother as he himself stands motionlessly on the clean, wooden porch.

"Look!" Sasuke holds out his arm for Itachi's inspection, his grin fading to a shy smile.

Itachi raises an eyebrow upon seeing what Sasuke is holding.

A snake. Small and slender, the thing is wound around Sasuke's arm like a scaly bracelet. It moves and slithers in his hand, tonguing the air between Sasuke's fingers. Sasuke rotates his wrist, fascinated with the snake's movements. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" He breathes, touching his fingertip to the crest of the snake's head.

The snake has long vertical black stripes running down its sides, along with one, striking vermillion red dorsal stripe. Itachi supposes Sasuke could find its aesthetic features pleasant to look at, but to Itachi it is just a reptile with bright colours.

Although…

Itachi looks closer. He remembers that particular breed of snake: a Striped Kukri Snake, native to South-eastern Asia. A relatively harmless species, but it is still odd that Sasuke would have found one so far out of its natural habitat.

A gasp and tiny cry of pain makes Itachi lift his head out of his musings with a vaguely curious frown.

Sasuke has a shocked, pained expression on his face as he shakes his hand, grasping the snake by its tail and flinging it away from him in a sharp gesture. The snake hisses angrily as it flies through the air and lands with a crash of splintering grass. Its shiny red scales are barely visible as it threads through the tall strands of grass, moving rapidly away from the two brothers.

Itachi watches, with an offhand sort of amusement, as Sasuke clutches at the bite mark on his inner wrist and looked up at Itachi with an indignant expression.

"It bit me!" Sasuke cries, disbelief clear all over his face.

Itachi feels there was a lesson to be learned in this, so he reaches out and pokes Sasuke straight in the forehead.

"Ow…" Sasuke grumbles, wrinkling his nose.

Itachi almost smiles. "That should teach you to blindly trust every living creature you come across. Some will cause worse damage than a little bite." Itachi looks pointedly at where Sasuke's hand is hiding the wound on his wrist. Sasuke flushes, embarrassed.

The things his little brother does…

"Now come, dinner will be ready soon." And Itachi turns to head into the house. Before passing the threshold though, his eyes catch sight of something in the corner of his vision and he turns, Sharingan blazing instantly in his suspicious eyes.

"Itachi-niisan?" Comes Sasuke's concerned question as he notices the change in Itachi's posture. "Is something wrong?"

Itachi is sure he'd just seen a puff of smoke, right around the area where the snake had disappeared. He wondered then if the Clan would be so insecure, and so selfishly intrusive, as to spy on him when he was spending time with his little brother. But after waiting a few seconds with no sound but the wind whistling in the trees, Itachi brushes off the incident and moves into the house.

A day later, the snakebite on Sasuke's wrist has swollen thrice over and Sasuke is bedridden with fever and delirium.

They find out that the bite had in fact come from an intensely venomous Banded Malayan Coral Snake. Sasuke is lucky to still have his life; and the regained use of his right hand was a delicate, uncertain situation for many hours.

Eventually though, the medial ninja emerges from the room, sweating, exhausted, but smiling. Sasuke would be fine.

Their Father wastes no time in turning away, an annoyed frown on his lips as he grumbles about Sasuke's foolish behaviour. Their mother cries joyful tears, but follows her husband timidly when he storms out of the hospital without ever seeing Sasuke.

But Itachi stays, and stands, for endless hours at the side of Sasuke's bed. His little brother is nothing but a tiny, shivering lump on the bed, sweat glistening on his pale grey forehead and one arm entirely covered from the elbow down in thick layers of heavy bandages and gauze. The medics had said that the snake's fangs had pierced Sasuke's skin right above his pulse, and had missed his radial artery by mere millimetres. It was this fact alone that probably saved his life.

Itachi watches, silently, resolutely, unflinchingly as his little brother writhes and trembles in the throes of poisoned nightmares. Occasionally Sasuke would whimper in his dreams, other times he would call out: often for their Mother and many times for their Father. But the name that passes most often between those parched, blue-tinged lips is Itachi's own. Murmured in a most pitiful manner.

He forces himself to watch, would not look away because this is what he had caused.

It had been one of the few times Itachi had ever been wrong about something, and it had very nearly cost his little brother his life.

The Sharingan rotate slowly in Itachi's unforgiving eyes. He would never forget.

:.: .:. :.:

Itachi would sometimes wonder: how long had Orochimaru watched his little brother?

Sasuke had left Konoha, abandoned his Village in an act that was so different than Itachi would have ever done… and yet, so achingly similar to what Sasuke had believed he'd done. And he'd run right into the open hands of Orochimaru, who would happily envelope his brother in unforgiving coils, squeezing him tighter and tighter until there was nothing left.

And indeed, it did seem like there was nothing left. Nothing left of the Sasuke Itachi had once known.

Sasuke's apparent loss of humanity had disturbed Itachi to the point of insomnia. The sickness worsened during this time, sleep-deprivation making his body weak. But eventually he had managed to banish his emotions to the deepest corner of his mind: locking it all behind Sasuke's closed door within his mind.

Whatever his intent though, three years after Sasuke's betrayal of Konoha, Itachi had ended up questioning Naruto on the virtue of his younger brother. And the young container's answer had been unexpected.

No that wasn't true.

His answer had not been unexpected—Itachi had known many idealists before this boy and though the message changed, the passion was always the same. It had been the resulting emotions stirred within Itachi himself that had been a surprise.

"He is a brother to me." Was what Naruto had said. "And I am a better brother than you ever were."

Itachi had to physically withdraw himself as the unexpected rush of emotion overcame him. What was this? Resignation? Indignation? Jealousy? How was that possible—Itachi knew he had lost all rights to being Sasuke's brother—why would Naruto's words bother him so much? Weariness had settled over him then as he receded back in the woods surrounding Sasuke's little rescue team. But he did not leave. Instead he stayed, listening silently to their conversation.

They had spoken of him, and the question he had asked Naruto. They had questioned his motives, asked why he cared. Itachi had suppressed another unexpected rush of choler. Who were they to question his relationship with Sasuke?

Then they had talked about Sasuke.

:.: .:. :.:

"Sasuke is… well… Sasuke is Sasuke, that's all there is to it!"

"Naruto, that makes no sense."

"Well… I dunno! He's my friend, and once you get past all his snobby, stick-up-the—"

"NARUTO!"

"Hah ah ha, sorry, sorry Sakura-chan! I just mean that deep down… deep, deep down, he's a nice guy, you know? What do you think?"

"I think… I think he cares about us."

"Huh?"

"That day… when he left the village, I offered to go with him."

"Sakura! You didn't—"

"Sh, Naruto! I'm not done. I said I would follow him anywhere… I didn't know, I didn't think—I mean, I knew—but I didn't realize… that he was going to Orochimaru… I believe though… that he knocked me out to keep me from running after him. And to stop me from getting into trouble. Sasuke is like that, he never actually says he cares. It's just sometimes, he does something that makes you realize. You know?"

"… Yeah… Like that time he stood in front of me, and protected me from Haku's attack. He said he didn't know why he did it, but…"

"Naruto…"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me… Tell me what you and Sasuke talked about… that day… in the Valley of End."

"…"

"Naruto… please…"

"I… well… I… He… He… He told me… He told me he would kill me."

"He…"

"Just wait, Sakura. He said… he said it was because I was his best friend. And he wanted to sever all ties with me."

"… Naruto…"

"And I don't get it! Why?! Why would he say that I'm his best friend then tell me he's going to kill me? Why!? And you know what? He DID win. He stuck a Chidori right through me and I was unconscious! He could have killed me! Why didn't he?! Why?!"

:.: .:. :.:

Itachi, as he knelt within the cover of the trees and shrubs, had been honestly surprised when he had heard Naruto and Sakura talking. Sasuke had not listened to him… had not killed his best friend to obtain the power of Mangekyou Sharingan. That was the first time in Itachi's memory that Sasuke had deliberately and knowingly disregarded something his older brother had said.

And yet… Itachi was glad.

Sasuke would not turn into him. He would forge his own path, cutting away the obstacles in a way unique to any before him.

He had stayed awhile, judging silently the merit of these people Sasuke had once called 'friends'. They were an odd bunch: Naruto, Sakura and Kakashi. Foolishly, they believed they would find Sasuke and bring him back to Konoha—even Itachi knew this was not possible. If there was one thing Sasuke had inherited in spades from his forefathers, it was his stubbornness and sense of pride. Once a decision was made, an Uchiha did not go back on it. Ever.

But Sasuke was also different. Where many Uchiha before him—Itachi included—had sought more power through the obtainment of the Mangekyou Sharingan, Sasuke instead chose to further his own, ordinary Sharingan. It was an impressive decision, given that Sasuke had had his ambition right there, within his grasp, and had knowingly chosen the alternate path.

The path that did not involve killing.

Itachi watched the team, but remained bemused. He could not understand why Sasuke had become friends with people like this. What was so special about them, save their oddity? Sakura was clearly infatuated with his younger brother and the Jinchuuriki was unrealistic, foolhardy, arrogant and bothersome. Together, they would get into loud, boorish disagreements which more often than not ended in physical violence… Naruto being the usual recipient. All the while, their sensei would completely ignore them, his nose buried in some lewd comic book.

It was only many minutes after Itachi had turned to leave that he realized he was being followed. Diverting to the side, Itachi had secured his position on a relatively high branch before turning to meet his pursuer.

:.: .:. :.:

"Uchiha Itachi." Comes the low, vaguely surprised drawl. "Well, I can't say I was expecting you of all people to be following us." Kakashi's one usable eye pierces the distance between them as he looks Itachi directly in the eyes.

"Really, Kakashi-sensei." Itachi muses softly, the suffix a mere formality, the word had long lost any meaning to Itachi. "Is it wise, to look so intently at the Sharingan? You of all people should remember the consequences of such actions."

Kakashi actually flinches before pulling himself back together and looking back at Itachi. "I don't wish to fight you."

One, long eyebrow draws up into a high arch. "Indeed."

"Well, now that we finally have the chance to talk, I want to ask you a question."

Itachi's silence is all the admission Kakashi apparently needs.

"Tell me… Are you going to fight Sasuke?"

Itachi's eyes narrow. He should have guessed Kakashi would ask such an inane question. "Yes." Is all he answers.

"Why?"

Itachi feels this question requires further elaboration so he doesn't deign to answer.

When Kakashi realizes Itachi isn't going to speak, he gives a barely perceptible sigh then reiterates. "Why do you want to kill him?"

For some reason this comment occurs to Itachi as personally insulting, this feeling must have translated to his eyes because Kakashi gives a sudden spasm of pain and averts his eye from Itachi's.

"It does not concern you." Itachi's words are blunt and his tone leaves no room for further questioning.

"Very well," Kakashi seems disappointed. "Then how about this: do you care for him?"

This one catches Itachi off guard and for a moment he just stares, not knowing what to say. "He… is of no concern to me."

"Oh come now, Itachi." Kakashi's voice is filled with dry humour. "I've known you since you were in diapers. You can't fool me with that one. Sasuke is alive, and that mere fact is completely of your doing. Usually—now this situation is admittedly unique, but even still—when someone doesn't kill a person it usually implies that they care for that person. Now do you?"

"He is the only person capable of challenging me. His purpose is merely to test my capacity." Itachi feels a barrier being raised between himself and Kakashi as he distances himself emotionally from the conversation.

"Then why were you listening to Naruto and Sakura talk about him?"

Silence fills the air, tense and cold.

"Why are you here?" Itachi makes his voice mildly curious. He is not so easily drawn into an emotional rage, quite unlike his little brother.

"I am here" Kakashi's voice grows serious. "To tell you that Sasuke, regardless of all his errors and faults, is a good person."

Again, an elegant eyebrow rises and Itachi regards Kakashi through shuttered eyes. "…So?"

"So, you should know that in spite of your ill influence on the boy, he still grew up to be a decent human being. The single, biggest flaw being, as I see it, being his insatiable thirst for revenge. Revenge, on you." Kakashi throws a glance at Itachi that clearly conveys his desire for Itachi to just disappear.

"My little brother has always clung to his idealistic dreams." Itachi's complete disregard brings a frown to Kakashi's face

Kakashi's eye narrows. "I see why you infuriate him so."

"Tell me something, Kakashi." Itachi speaks suddenly, his voice confident and fluid. Kakashi looks surprised as Itachi takes control of the conversation, but nods warily. "Why is it that wherever I turn, people are constantly telling me about my little brother's merits? I have no personal interest invested in the matter."

"Then why did you ask Naruto that very question?"

"You misapprehend me. I asked the Jinchuuriki why he 'cared'. Sasuke is, after all, a rogue ninja. He betrayed you all."

"And that was our fault." Kakashi's voice is so soft it is barely heard. But Itachi does not miss the remark, and his head raises vaguely, curiosity piqued.

"What do you mean?" The question is out of his mouth before he can properly think about it.

If Kakashi notices Itachi's sudden interest he gives no sign, for his eye is closed. "When Sasuke was hunted down and… bitten by Orochimaru, it was during the Chunin exams. His team was in no way skilfully prepared or equipped to fight Orochimaru and within seconds both of his team mates were immobilized."

"So Sasuke fought Orochimaru alone." Itachi's voice is unnaturally tight.

Kakashi nods. "Yes. And understandably, he lost; suffering the bane of the curse seal as his punishment. We, the Jonin, should have known Orochimaru was on the premises. And with his history of going after young prodigies… we should have guessed he'd be after Sasuke…" Kakashi shakes his head in self-admonishment. But Itachi is immune to the transparent apology; it means nothing to his trained ears.

"Orochimaru lured Sasuke to him with power. Power the Elders would never have allowed him to receive in Konoha due to his heritage." Itachi states insipidly.

Again, Kakashi looks surprised, his eyes opening to look at Itachi. "You know…? Ah well… I suppose you would, you always were an exceptionally unique child." Kakashi chuckles sadly to himself—ironically—as though he'd made some witty pun. "It's true; the Elders of Konoha have always been somewhat… prejudiced against the Uchiha name."

Itachi sends Kakashi a bland look that could almost have been interpreted as sardonic.

"And I suppose that if you noticed it, then Sasuke probably did as well. Ah…" Kakashi rubs the back of his neck. "That would explain quite a bit. But even still, Sasuke was very close to staying. If he had not met you that day…" Kakashi shakes his head then, deciding that was not the way he wanted the conversation to go. Itachi merely watches him, his expression mild. If this fool had been trying to inspire some guilt in him, with his stunted knowledge and poor understanding, his efforts were sorely misplaced.

Kakashi continues with his speech. "Since a very young age, Sasuke has been alone. Isolated within his own family. You know that better than anyone." Here, a sharp glance is completely ineffective on Itachi's icy countenance. "But even after… that day… the village never opened to him. There was no one for him to confide in, no one to care for him or even check his mental stability after…" Kakashi's eye grows cloudy, straying past Itachi to stare at something far in the distance. "I suppose it was no one's fault and everyone's at the same time, that Sasuke slipped through the cracks. After all, he was such a well-behaved child, so quiet—perfect in all his classes…"

Itachi raises his chin to look down upon Kakashi. "Of course. He is Uchiha." Somehow, the name sounds hollow to Itachi's own ears. But Kakashi doesn't seem to notice.

"Yes, yes, but even still, I think Naruto, Sakura and I were his first bonds. The first close human interaction he'd had for a long time… short of learning the ins and outs of avoiding his fan-club that is." Kakashi gives a small laugh and Itachi was unprepared for the rising humour in himself. So his little brother had a fan-club? How… adorable.

"Why are you telling me this?" Itachi is quick to return to reality.

"I want you to know Sasuke." Kakashi looks at Itachi sideways. "I want you to be able to put yourself in his place and understand what he's going through. I saw him with you just as well as anyone in Konoha. He loved you, Itachi. To him, you were more than the sun and the moon, you were his entire life. He adored you."

Another silence. Though his eyes want to slip away, Itachi forces himself to keep his gaze steady on Kakashi.

"When you… killed the clan… Sasuke was devastated. You should have seen him the day he woke up in the hospital. He kept crying out 'Where's my big brother?' 'Where's Itachi-niisan?' He refused to believe you had done it. He thought it was a dream, or that we were all lying to him. He went crazy, throwing things, screaming, the medic-nins had to sedate him. The next day he was quiet as a mouse and they deemed him well enough to return home."

"They sent a child of eight back to the site of his worst nightmares, after having experienced the Tsukuyomi?" Itachi's voice is heavy with disdain.

A look of shocked disbelief spreads over Kakashi's face and his visible eye widens in horrification. "You used the Tsukuyomi on an eight-year old? Your own brother, Itachi?"

Itachi feels a small scowl curl at his lip. The man before him is a hypocrite. Like he's one to speak about Sasuke's safety. "And you did what to prevent my little brother's dissension to Orochimaru?"

"But still! It took me—a Jonin well his senior—days to recover from Tsukuyomi! And that was with the Lady Tsunade's help! You could have done permanent damage to Sasuke's mind!"

Itachi sends Kakashi a look of obvious condescension. "An Uchiha has higher resistance than the average mind."

"But the last time—"

"Had you given Sasuke a few days, he would have woken of his own volition."

"You cannot possibly believe—"

"Enough of your nonsense. I have a more important engagement to make."

"You… you're going to fight Sasuke, aren't you?"

"I was under the impression that I'd already answered that question."

"No, I mean this is it. It all comes down to this fight between you and him. One of you will die."

Ironic that, at that moment, Itachi's vision blurs and blackens at the edges. "Indeed." Comes his wry response.

"It makes no sense, you spare Sasuke's life over and over, yet now you go to kill him… You say he is a mere tool to test your own abilities, but you show obvious interest in his own character… Every time you meet him you make sure to remind him of his hatred for you, you throw your sins in his face to enrage him, to drive him to get better so…" Suddenly Kakashi's eyes light up and he looks at Itachi with realized understanding. Itachi narrows his gaze at that look.

"You… you want him to kill you!" Kakashi says, half in wonder, half accusing.

Itachi freezes.

"It's true! Everything has been set up for this day, you've ensured that Sasuke seeks power, ensured his hatred for you… All so that he would one day become your slayer. This is your twisted notion of justice isn't it? As punishment for killing the entire Uchiha clan you plan to loose your life at the hands of the last living member?"

Itachi remains silent.

"Answer me!"

Itachi says nothing, just turns and prepares to leave. But even as he sweeps away into the woods, Kakashi's last words ring in his ears.

"You have no idea what you're doing! This is selfish; a pathetic way of settling your own debt—running away from your demons. For once in your life, think of your brother! To this day he has not taken a single human life. By having him take yours you will ruin what last remains of his innocence. It will destroy him completely!"

:.: .:. :.:

Kakashi was an idealistic fool. With his pristine, clear-cut views of right and wrong, reality and fiction, Kakashi thought he had the world figured out. But Itachi knew that Kakashi's ideals were only the very beginning of his hypocrisy. Of the hypocrisy all ninja lived: that a ninja could really covet a life—covet innocence—when their only purpose was to kill—to destroy?

Hypocrisy.

When Itachi arrived at the cave, the predetermined spot for his fight with Sasuke, he was prepared to die. The sickness was in its last stage: he would cough up blood daily now and his eyesight was as unpredictable as the winds.

Interesting then—that as he waited for his younger brother to arrive—he felt more alive than he had in years, and his eyes were equal to those of a hawk.

Idly, Itachi had allowed himself to muse. He hadn't seen Sasuke for three years, and he wondered what his little brother would look like. Would he finally be as tall as him? Would he still have that same way of wrinkling his nose whenever he was annoyed?

Would he still scream when Itachi broke his bones?

It was with a whisper of cold air and barely heard footsteps that Sasuke arrived. And Itachi bestowed upon his brother his first true stare since they'd been children.

Sasuke had grown.

It had been a simple task of verbal jabs and repartee to initiate the fight between them. But Itachi's mind had wandered. This was not the same Sasuke as he had once known. This was not his little brother. Who was this vapid, soulless teen, whose eyes were darker than bottomless pits and who spoke with such a sharp, cutting tongue? Who was this man, who stood indifferent against Itachi's disdainful insults, in place of the boy who had once reacted so strongly and with such passion?

Where was his little brother?

This was not the person, upon whose hands Itachi wished to earn the right to die. This was a shell of a person: cold and empty. No light shone in those dark, pupil-less eyes. A body, moving with no consciousness. A mind without a soul. Somehow, this revelation was difficult for Itachi to comprehend. Three years had changed Sasuke so much? Or had Orochimaru really succeeded in the soul transfer?

It had been a test. A test of trust and will. Itachi, for all his cunning and conniving, never truly believed that Sasuke could, or would, kill him. Sasuke simply did not have the specific characteristic in him—that strength, and that weakness, of the heart—that allowed a person to kill.

In the same way that Itachi once believed Sasuke would remain innocent after his family's death, he believed now that his little brother couldn't kill him. It just wasn't possible.

Which was why, when Itachi felt the cold metal of the blade thrusting through the stomach of his clone, it had felt very much like he himself had just been stabbed in the heart. Sasuke had aimed that blade to kill. Clone or no clone, Sasuke had meant to kill him. And still, and still! No expression crossed that empty face.

Sasuke claimed surprise at the illusion, but he knew… they both knew… it had been a test. And to Itachi, Sasuke had failed.

The damage which followed after that was nothing more than salt thrown on an already gaping mortal wound.

:.: .:. :.:

Sasuke laughs as he falls backward. It had snowed the night before and Itachi had taken his brother out to the park for a small, impromptu snowball fight, which Sasuke is now loosing badly.

"No fair, Nii-san! You're bigger than me!" Sasuke cries, brushing fluffy snowflakes from his hair with his thick mittens.

"Which is why you should be winning." Itachi says, amused. "I'm a bigger target."

"But you also move faster!"

Itachi had been about to shoot back another smart comment when a voice—cold and smooth like sculpted marble—interrupts their play.

"Itachi, I wish to speak with you."

Itachi and Sasuke both jump up to attention at their Father's unmistakable command. But while Sasuke's face is open with the eagerness to please, Itachi is annoyed.

"Now, Father?" Itachi asks.

Their Father sends him a severe frown—which speaks volumes. Sasuke shrinks away and he isn't even on the receiving end of it. Itachi sighs and relents, following after their Father and leaving little Sasuke standing alone in the cold snow.

Nearly half an hour of heated discussion later, Itachi returns to the park with their Father and is surprised to see Sasuke still waiting where he'd left him under the tree. His brother is idly tossing a ball of snow between his hands, but drops it and quickly stands when he sees them approaching.

"H-hello, Father," Sasuke says timidly, fidgeting with his mittens and lowering his eyes. But their Father doesn't even acknowledge the boy's presence, turning instead to give Itachi one last penetrating stare before leaving.

Finally free of the stifling presence of their Father, Itachi sighs and moves to sit by Sasuke. He looks up at his little brother and notices him quietly sniffling.

"Itachi-niisan?" Sasuke asks between sniffles, looking at Itachi with watery eyes. "Does Father hate me?"

A sudden rush of anger hits Itachi so strongly that Sasuke visibly tenses and draws away. Pushing down on the rage, Itachi smoothes out his expression and beckons his little brother closer.

"Come, Sasuke, sit. I'm not mad at you." Sasuke sits, tentatively, close to Itachi but far enough away that they aren't touching. It makes Itachi think of their Father, and how he, so stingy with his love, barely ever gives physical displays of affection. It does not bother Itachi, but he knows it is something Sasuke seeks needily. Reaching out, Itachi places his hand around Sasuke's shoulders and draws his younger brother to his side. Sasuke gives a little gasp and looks up in surprise.

"I'm mad at Father." Itachi says. "And how he's always ignoring you. It's not right."

"…It… It's ok…" Sasuke looks down and speaks very softly, cautiously relaxing into Itachi's heavy coat, as though fearful that his elder brother will push him away any second. "After all, you're the one who always does everything perfect… I… I just… mess stuff up."

"Don't say that." Itachi looks down at his brother's dark hair. Where Itachi had inherited their Father's darker skin and faded charcoal hair, Sasuke had taken after their mother, with her pale skin and glossy blue-ebony hair. Itachi always thought the look made his brother look fragile. "Father should love you just the way you are. Not because you can through a kunai into a target in the blind spot."

Sasuke looks up in shock and Itachi lets a mild smile play at his lips.

"Yes, I know about your little 'training' sessions."

Sasuke is silent for a long while.

"Itachi-niisan?" He eventually asks. "Why does Father act like that all the time?"

Itachi thinks about how best to explain this to his seven year-old brother. "Father… is very driven." He says at length. "He sees his goal and goes toward it, no matter what. Sometimes that makes him forget everything else. He pays attention to me because I can help him achieve that goal."

Sasuke fiddles with a rock he has picked up off the ground, carefully scratching off flakes of ice caught in the cracks. "And I can't."

Itachi sighs, Sasuke is too desperate for their father's attention. "Sasuke, it's not always a good thing to be so driven. It causes people around that person to be hurt. Look at how father has hurt you. Promise me you won't ever become like that."

Sasuke thinks for a bit. "…Ok…" He says. "I'll just become like you!" And Sasuke looks up at Itachi with a large grin.

Itachi doesn't quite know what to say to that.

"But big brother…" Sasuke looks nervous again. "You said it's bad to hurt people on purpose, right?"

"Hmm…" Itachi offers a sound that is non-committal, though Sasuke interprets it as acquiescent.

"Then when you get mad at Father like that… you're hurting him on purpose… isn't that bad?" Sasuke's eyes are big.

Itachi is in wonder at the child's thought process. How he comes up with the thing he says… "Yes." Itachi says at length. "It's bad. But Father and I don't have the same goals, so we tend to disagree on it a lot."

"I don't like disagreements, they're bad." Sasuke's nose wrinkles. And Itachi lets out a spontaneous, unexpected burst of quick laughter—how succinctly his brother could define all his problems!—which leaves him feeling astonished at himself.

"I promise to have the same goals as you big brother." Sasuke looked at Itachi with surprising maturity and solemnity… and complete innocence. "That way, when I grow up, I'll never hurt you."

:.: .:. :.:

"Uchiha Madara."

That name. As he spoke it allowed to his brother, Itachi felt it resonate within his own mind, his own consciousness.

Uchiha Madara.

The man who had turned the impossible into truth—had taken Itachi's unthinkable order to assassinate his family and made it reality... And who had carried out that reality with a vindictive pleasure that had disturbed the young idealistic Itachi. And continued to disturb him even today.

One could say that Uchiha Madara was the key cardholder that led to the ruin of Itachi's life… one could also say he saved it. Either way, Itachi always felt cheated by the bothersome, withered old fool. A man who'd cheated death with the dubious art of a vile pig—discovered the most base secrets of their blood trait—and yet, still could not find something useful to do with his life?

Pitiful.

So, Sasuke wanted to kill Uchiha Madara? How typical of him: always setting goals he'd never be able to achieve. It made Itachi blink, and look at his brother again. A look which Sasuke, crouching behind him—his katana deeply impaled through the back and heart of another clone—could not see. But Itachi was not looking at his brother. He was looking through him.

Perhaps there was something left of his soul after all.

To test this theory, Itachi reverted back to worrying the old wound he knew Sasuke would still carry. Brotherhood. The word had meant a lot once. Now, thanks to Itachi, it was just a well of broken promises and tainted memories for Sasuke. And Itachi did not need to see Sasuke to know his words made his younger brother flinch. He could hear the hurt in his little brother's voice, could feel the anger in the trembling of his blade, which still rested in his clone's chest. So Orochimaru's taint had not corrupted Sasuke's heart. He lived on, as Itachi's last chance of redemption.

And so, Itachi would begin the grandest of all his schemes.

And the most dangerous of all his deceptions.

Interesting then also, that as he stood before his younger brother—prepared to destroy every last hope Sasuke could ever have had of an older brother, prepared to destroy himself as well—his eyes experienced their first, violent shift into darkness. Brief, fleeting, but with uncannily odd timing.

It was Itachi's finest performance. He'd planned it for years, analyzed it, studied it and developed it specially to strain every last belief Sasuke had. And he executed it perfectly. Sasuke had no choice but to believe Itachi's lies. Lies, Itachi told, of his desire to take Sasuke's eyes for his own. Lies, of his ultimate goal to live forever. Lies, of his will to live, his disinclination to die. All lies…

And Sasuke believed him.

Or so Itachi thought, until he looked into Sasuke's eyes.

Sasuke's eyes were wide, disbelieving… incredulous that his own brother's greatest desire was to rip out and steal his eyes. Why? Why couldn't Sasuke understand such an easy lie? Itachi had murdered their family ruthlessly; why couldn't Sasuke believe this one last little detail that merely scratched another line into Itachi's list of sins?

But even as Itachi reached for Sasuke's prized eyes, his little brother did not move. Did not make a single motion to protect himself. He just stood there, eyes wide open, staring at Itachi with a truly incomprehensible expression.

The genjutsu ended and the two brothers were left staring at one another from halfway across the room. Itachi assumed—as it was easier to assume—that Sasuke had seen through the illusion, and so had not wasted the energy to fight. The alternative… that Sasuke had actually trusted Itachi not to pluck out his eyes… was too unthinkable.

:.: .:. :.:

"Big brother, when did you get your Sharingan?" Sasuke asks.

"When I was eight."

"Eight!" Sasuke cries in despair. "But I'm almost nine now! I'll get it later than you."

Itachi gives a small, unfelt laugh. "Are you jealous?"

Sasuke looks away.

"It's alright you know, for you to dislike me. I'm always going to be that standard for you. That wall you need to climb. It's the nature of brotherhood. And it is the nature of humans to be so competitive. That's why our cousins are always fighting with us; that is why they don't like us. We're too strong for them and it makes them jealous." Itachi's voice is soft, but within him stirs a great resentment at the fickleness of their Clan.

"But Itachi-niisan." Sasuke says quietly. "We're not like them."

Itachi looks at Sasuke curiously.

"I mean," Sasuke looks up at Itachi. "Yeah, I'm a little jealous that you got your Sharingan before me, but that doesn't mean I love you any less. You're the best big brother I could have asked for and nothing will ever change that."

:.: .:. :.:

When the snake erupted from Sasuke's shoulder, bulging and bloating the skin like a pustulous infection, Itachi had to fight the sudden violent repugnance that overcame him in that moment. He saw, and made careful note of, the parasitic curse seal on Sasuke's neck.

So that was where the foul creature, Orochimaru, had bitten his little brother.

As the snake stretched, pulling slowly out of Sasuke's shoulder like toothpaste from a tube, ten feet, then twenty, of sliding, shifting scales passed out of Sasuke's body until finally the tail came into view. And when the tail finally came free with a wet, thick 'schlip' it left behind a gaping hole in the flesh. Swollen, inflamed muscle was laid bare to the air, surrounded by a circle of cracked, blackened skin.

And it was like the appearance of the snake had let loose a dam of contaminated energy. Orochimaru's foul aura spread over Sasuke and its influence was physically noticeable: emotion bled out of Sasuke's eyes, turning them soulless and his posture straightened aggressively with cold contempt… And the taint was unmistakable in Sasuke's skills. Skills—which centred on the usage of snakes and dirty jutsu; skills—which caused darkness to surge and devour Sasuke's own chakra like an infestation of locusts.

There was a resolution that had been building within Itachi since he'd realized he'd driven Sasuke to Orochimaru. Itachi's mind returned to it now.

The Sannin Orochimaru's power was not trifling. For certain, Sasuke would never succumb himself to he soul transfer, but Itachi knew Orochimaru would cling on to life with the obstinate tenacity of the low-life, bloodsucking leech he was… and he would always have a backup plan.

Now, seeing the shadow of Orochimaru in his own brother's eyes, Itachi knew what that backup plan was. Orochimaru never did take his losses well, and his obsession over Sasuke's body was great… and nothing short of obscene. It was not something he would give up easily.

When Itachi had found the Sword of Totsuka, he had had no ulterior motive for its creation in the physical plain. There had been inklings, and a mild itching suggestion for its usage, but Itachi had dismissed it with ease. The sword was a prize in itself; it did not need a purpose.

But the suggestion had stayed; and like a seed it sprouted and grew until Itachi could ignore it no longer. Never before had he put his plan into words, but now, in the hour of his final battle, it was time to face all things.

He would kill the lowly scum, Orochimaru.

In the time it took Itachi to make this resolution, his attention had wavered once more, and he lost another clone to Sasuke's Chidori enhanced shuriken attack.

Really, his little brother had much improved his weaponry skills.

It took a certain finesse to attack a person, engage them in the highest level of conflict, and still, not intend to kill him. It was an art. An art in which Itachi was not trained, but could perform with relative dignity. Sasuke was a natural, Itachi could recognize that talent.

But true battle was not a playground or a washed canvas. It was a bloody mess, an ignoble incarnation of the basest of human nature. The time for arts and crafts was over, and now Itachi would teach his brother a lesson about the real world.

Tsukuyomi

God of the Moon

With a calm ease born from years of experience, Itachi subdued Sasuke, pinning him against a wall. Idly, he would wonder why Sasuke never used clones. It was a widely used technique that every self-respecting Ninja used regularly. Yet Sasuke had yet to make a single clone which Itachi could see. He wondered why.

But idle thoughts could not prevent Itachi from the reality of what he had resigned himself to do.

He raised his fingers to Sasuke's left eye.

"Forgive me, Sasuke."

And Sasuke looked at Itachi with such an expression—with such, fathomless, innocent eyes, that for a moment, Itachi was no longer looking at sixteen year-old Sasuke, but instead he was gazing into the eyes of his eight year-old little brother.

:.: .:. :.:

"A big brother is always there for his little brother, Sasuke."

:.: .:. :.:

And with a wet, squelching sound, Itachi plunged his fingers into Sasuke's eye socket, ripping the eyeball—torn, dripping tendons and all—mercilessly out of his younger brother's head.

But Sasuke felt no pain.

Itachi did not allow Sasuke to feel pain.

Certainly, Sasuke screamed, and the sweat ran down his brow in rivulets; for just the shock of loosing an eye—and seeing his own blood running, like a stream, onto his open palm—must have been great.

While Sasuke was still disoriented, Itachi mused. Odd, that Sasuke hadn't called upon the power of his cursed seal yet. What had he been waiting for all this time? Perhaps he wanted to defeat Itachi with his own strength, and not resort to the corrupted power of Orochimaru.

…Because of course, Sasuke could not have been delusional enough to believe that Itachi would stay his murderous hands. Sasuke could not have seen Itachi's hesitation, because there had been no hesitation.

Itachi would rip out Sasuke's other eye too, if that was what it took to make his point.

But Itachi's fingers had barely brushed Sasuke's cheek when the seal began to spread. Itachi jerked back, repulsed, and watched—with a detached sense of horror—as Sasuke's entire body was covered by writhing, unholy markings—black hellfire—turning his pale skin into the sickly grey colour of a corpse. And the change was apparent even in Sasuke's countenance and expression. What had once been hesitation turned into cockiness. Hurt turned to hate.

Innocence became tainted.

As Sasuke's remaining eye darkened beneath Itachi's fingers, Itachi drew his hand away. This was not his brother. This was a monster.

It only took a moment of idleness, a slip in his concentration, and Sasuke's mental attack struck fast and strong and relentless.

A cough built in Itachi's chest and though he stifled it, he could not prevent the sudden darkening of his vision.

And just like that, Sasuke took hold of Itachi's genjutsu and brutally wrenched it apart, shattering it completely.

And opened his eyes—both eyes—restored.

Itachi was astounded. Never had he seen a genjutsu illusion broken in such a fast, efficient manner. Most trained Ninja had to concentrate for many long moments to dispel a genjutsu, and even then, it had to be gradually peeled apart layer by layer.

But Sasuke had literally grabbed hold of the complex weave of chakra and torn the entire thing down. And he had done it to Itachi's Tsukuyomi, a genjutsu that had never known a conqueror. How had he done it?

A light went on within Itachi's heart, a small flame, flickering and weak, but it warmed him. And it gave him hope. Sasuke was strong… stronger than Itachi could have hoped. Maybe, just maybe, he could be the one to kill Madara…

Again, the sensation of a thousand tiny needles poking into his eye hit Itachi, and he clasped a hand over the eye, willing the pain to pass. Then, his vision took a drastic change for the worse. The sickness, combined with the backlash of having his genjutsu broken, had combined to yield an even worse side-effect than normal.

But Itachi could not die, would not die. Not yet. Not now that he'd finally given himself one last purpose. One last real purpose. No more blindly following orders of selfish fools. No more turning his back on what was really important in this wasteful life.

He would die, yes.

But not before he freed his brother.

Itachi thought it ironic then, that Sasuke, at that very moment, decided to try and fry him using their family's most famous attack. The key which had once unlocked their Father's heart: the technique which marked an Uchiha boy's passage into manhood.

Katon: Goukakyuu no Jutsu

Fire Style: Grand Fireball Attack

The fireball which came raging toward Itachi was needlessly large, especially when both brothers knew it would never be enough to take Itachi down. Itachi figured Sasuke was taunting him, or perhaps trying to prove some idealistic point of his.

It was typically Sasuke. And for some reason that made Itachi glad.

Well, if he wanted a competition, he would get one.

Together, their combined Fireball Jutsu would weaken the light from the very sun itself.

It was time.

A single drop of stinging blood ran from Itachi's eye.

Sasuke had grown into a good man and a competent ninja and he deserved a fight at a level of no less than Itachi's full ability. After all, if Sasuke were to fight Madara, he would not be given similar leniency.

It was time.

Amaterasu.

Goddess of the Sun.

:.: .:. :.:

Itachi stands defiant against his father, and an audience of Konoha police—Yashiro, Tekka and Inabi, his petty, cowardly cousins who would take their jealousy of him out on his little brother—as well. To his right is the cracked symbol of the Uchiha fan, through which he'd just thrown a kunai—and of which he is now bearing the consequences. Itachi's eyes burn at the corners and he knows his Sharingan has just bled over his irises. His Father gasps and narrows his eyes and Itachi knows the danger he is in has just gotten deeper.

But Itachi has had enough. Enough of the lies, the treachery and the wicked deviousness of his own family. They were all self-serving fools, incompetent power seekers. Even his own Father, a man Itachi should have looked up to, should have trusted, was a low-life war monger just like the rest of this disgraceful family.

"You forget what is important to you because you cling to something small like your Clan." Itachi's impassioned words flow free and true. For the first time he is speaking his mind, knowing he is enraging his father, enraging his cousins. But he no longer cares, he will speak his mind and they will listen. Itachi cannot deny that a small, desperately hopeful part of him wishes that maybe this time they would listen. Not hear in the useless manner that goes in one ear and out the other, but truly listen. And put aside that vainglorious attitude that had perforated his clan, rotting it from the inside. "True change cannot be made if it is bound bylaws and limitations, predictions and imagination."

"Such arrogance!" His Father's booming voice cuts across his plea. "Enough! If you continue this nonsense we will have to take you to jail!"

So this is how it would be. Itachi's head lowered. For his entire life he had worked and toiled at the whim of his Father. Now, when he is standing at the very brink of insanity, one step short of walking away from his clan forever, he asks his Father this one small favour—a silent plea for his understanding—and his Father takes his humility and smacks him in the face with it. He would even threaten to throw him in jail. His own son!

This is how the Clan has corrupted his family.

"We can't put up with this anymore! Captain, please order an arrest!" Inabi snarls.

There is no longer any hope for his clan. There is no possible redemption, no chance of survival. Itachi hardens himself. The Clan is… nothing.

"Big brother! Itachi-niisan! Stop, stop it, please!"

Sasuke!

Itachi's eyes widen and he recoils physically. Sasuke is watching all this?

Confusion and some other unknown emotion form a cold, congealing mass in Itachi's stomach as he realizes his little brother is watching this demonstration of his ugliest side. It is a part of Itachi that he had always hid from Sasuke: a different life that he never allowed to touch his little brother.

And now…

Itachi cannot do it. In an instant he has bowed his head, fallen to his knees and is murmuring his apologies to his Father and cousins. Subjugating himself to them without consideration to his pride.

He hears not the words his Father speaks after; they are empty promises, obligatory concern that is meaningless to Itachi. Instead he focuses on Sasuke, little Sasuke who had somehow driven him to his knees with just a few simple words. How?

But as his Father walks away Itachi's confusion begins to ebb; and in its place is left a growing heat.

Anger.

Unbelievable it is, that with an entire audience of incompetent adults in front of him to expend his anger on, it is this tiny, child's voice that throws Itachi's self-restraint to the wind. The pain of his own beloved little brother telling him to stop—asking him to surrender himself! His honour, his dignity, gone—it enrages Itachi. The one person Itachi never thought would turn against him, Sasuke, would abandon him in such a terrible way? All for the recognition of their faithless Father?

And Itachi's eyes snap to the side, piercing straight through Sasuke's weak mental barrier—shifting angrily from the regular Sharingan to Mangekyou. At such a young age, Sasuke's very mind is vulnerable to Itachi's Mangekyou Sharingan. And in Itachi's fury, he exploits his advantage completely, tearing past the weak barriers into his little brother's mind with little regard to the sudden, pained gasp Sasuke gives at the mental intrusion.

How dare he, are Itachi's thoughts, how dare he try and defend Father. Is he so desperate for Father's attention that he would jump to his defence, even at the expense of Itachi's honour? And then, to have the gall to presume Itachi would back down, at his mere call!

So furious is Itachi that he causes needless destruction within the mind of his brother as he ravages it, trying to find a reason for this foolish behaviour. Sasuke gives a quiet whimper, and backs away a step, but otherwise he stays still and bares the onslaught bravely.

Then Itachi finds his goal, and leaps on it hungrily, eager to find justification for his actions. Eager to find the proof he already knows is there.

But as Itachi lets Sasuke's mind wash over him, he begins to realize the mistake he'd made.

Sasuke had not been defending their Father against Itachi's rebelliousness, no. He'd been defending Itachi against their Father… Sasuke had been begging Itachi to come away so their Father wouldn't hurt him.

Sasuke's mind is full of worry. For him.

Itachi pulls out of his little brother's mind with a gasp, and rises to his full height stiffly. Quickly, he walks by Sasuke's trembling form, unable to even look at his younger brother, unable to face what he'd just done… and more than any of that, unable to understand Sasuke's pure, unconditional love for him.

And so it came to be that only Sasuke could quell the ever growing darkness that seemed to be slowly engulfing Itachi's weary heart.

:.: .:. :.:

Occasionally there had come days when the sickness' hold upon Itachi was so strong he would spend entire days in bed. Dizzy eyes closed to the world, he would lie on his back, hands folded over his chest in the likeness of a corpse. On those days idle thoughts were beyond his grasp and Itachi was forced to confront the darker reality that was his life.

He wondered, often, what exactly he had done wrong. Had he not done precisely what every ninja in the service of their country swears to do? He had given up his very life and his soul to his village. Everything he'd done, he'd done at the order of his Elders. And so he'd prevented war.

There were ninja who had been redeemed after committing worse acts than he. After all, was it not the purpose of ninja to protect the weak against all threat—to administer judgment on that threat in the form of death—in order to preserve life?

But he was being punished. He was being punished for fulfilling the promise of a ninja—for killing—when killing itself was the duty of a ninja.

But if he hadn't eliminated the threat, many more would have suffered, many more would have died… all through his own weakness of putting his family before the village. That would have led to war and surely that was a worse circumstance.

So he had made the right choice, had he not?

Then why was he being punished?

Itachi's reasoning would continue in similar, eternal circles that gave him headaches worse than the spinning merry-go-round his failing eyes had turned the world into.

Why did he continue to live like a fugitive?

And why was he condemned to live the life of a murderer, to aid in the construction of everything he'd once stood against?

Itachi wasn't blind. Not yet. And he could see clearly how, even when he came to give his biannual reports to the Konoha Elders, they gazed down upon him with disdainful eyes.

Why?

Was he not their most loyal subject?

Itachi snapped his eyes open to the present and the black, tainted fires of Amaterasu surged toward Sasuke, enveloping that grotesque, malformed wing. A vile, defiling manifestation of Orochimaru.

Truly, there had only been one human being that had never looked on Itachi with judgemental or expectant eyes. Only one who had accepted him as he was, not as a prodigy or a tool or a means to an end. Only one, who had loved him unconditionally with the untainted heart of an innocent.

Sasuke fell, and Itachi snapped his eyes shut, ignoring how his very eyeballs seemed to burn upon contact with his eyelids, ignoring how they spasmed and twitched, trying to gain relief. He closed his eyes, and extinguished the fire of Amaterasu.

Sasuke did not move.

Itachi bent to his brother then extended one hand towards his dark ebony-blue hair. Itachi wondered at the tightness in his chest. He'd stopped the Amaterasu in time, he knew it… Then why?

Ah…

So Sasuke had finally begun to yield his power to that of Orochimaru. With a most ghastly technique, Sasuke had shed his skin like a snake and fled to the underground.

The Sasuke Itachi knew fought on equal, even self-detrimental grounds: never using clones, never using cheap tricks. The Sasuke Itachi knew was resourceful and smart and could use the strangest combination of skill, technique and unorthodox improvisation to befuddle the enemy and win.

The Sasuke he knew did not hide under the ground and attack at the enemy's blind spot.

Sasuke indeed had a vast amount of Chakra, but Itachi would always be the elder, the better; it was the very nature of the gap between their respective power. Orochimaru's influence was beginning to come through.

Good.

A heavy cough racked Itachi's exhausted frame and he fell to his knees. The time was coming, he could feel it. Silently he willed Sasuke to come at him with everything he had. Itachi was prepared.

Katon: Gouryuuka no Jutsu

Fire Style: Great Dragon Fire Attack

Well… to be completely frank, a badly misaimed Katon Jutsu was not what Itachi had expected as Sasuke's final attack, but nonetheless, he expended the necessary effort to avoid the explosion of fire and smoke, then looked down at his brother—looked down at the monster the cursed seal produced. It seemed as though working with low reserves of Chakra caused the seal to react, and being unable to fully subdue it, it took temporary control of Sasuke's body.

But already the pale whiteness was returning to Sasuke's skin, the monster faded and in its place was left his exhausted younger brother.

Exhausted. Itachi did a double check. Yes, Sasuke was definitely out of Chakra.

Itachi, feeling a twinge of satisfaction, pointed this fact out to Sasuke.

And Sasuke made no effort to deny it.

That piqued Itachi's interest and he frowned. Sasuke was smarter than that: using a simple Katon Jutsu to deplete his Chakra so recklessly. Maybe the Sasuke of three years ago would have done that, certainly he'd been reckless and foolhardy then. But now… Itachi had seen the intelligence in his brother's eyes, had acknowledged it. And it didn't fit.

So, Sasuke hadn't planned to attack him from below? Perhaps Orochimaru's influence wasn't as close to surfacing as he'd thought…

Which meant…

Itachi looked to the heavens and saw the dark thunderheads form. The rising heat from the Katon Jutsu had caused a pressure shift, forming clouds and…

Ah, Sasuke... always forcing him to do things the hard way.

Itachi threw his head back and closed his eyes as judgment in the form of lightning struck him down.

:.: .:. :.:

"Big brother! Come, come, I want to show you something!" Sasuke's voice, happy and excited, comes as Itachi is preparing to leave for one of his family 'meetings'. Needless to say, Itachi is not in the mood.

"No Sasuke, not right now." He mutters.

Sasuke stops in his tracks and a small, hurt frown crosses his face. "But… but Itachi-niisan, you promised you'd help me today! And you know no one else will help me 'cause we're not supposed to be setting traps yet at the academy and Father's too busy and everyone else…" Sasuke doesn't have to continue that sentence. They both knew that they, as the sons of the clan leader, were privileged in their position as main family in the Clan. A position that was much coveted and envied by those in the branch families. Sasuke's voice quietens. "And now, these days not even you have time to train with me anymore…"

"Ah… Sasuke." Itachi sighs. His little brother always knows just how to make him feel guilty. Turning his head, Itachi gazes at his little brother. Sasuke looks pitiful. Itachi beckons him closer and the smile that alights on his little brother's face could have lit up the room. Sasuke runs to Itachi, and right into the two fingers that rise to poke him directly in the forehead.

"Ow!" Sasuke cries, more from shock than actual pain, blinking up at Itachi.

"Sorry Sasuke, some other time." Itachi feels his mouth pulling into a gentle smile. "I have to go."

But as he rises to his feet and moves to leave, Itachi is surprised to feel a pair of tiny hands grasp him tightly by the wrist and tug him back.

"No, no you're not allowed!" Sasuke pulls Itachi toward him.

"Excuse me?" Itachi asks, amused at his little brother's antics.

"That's right! I'm not allowing you to go. You're going to one of those meetings with Father, right? You always come back from those meetings all depressed and angry."

"I do?" Itachi murmurs. Sure, he knows he does, but he had no idea Sasuke had noticed that.

"Yes, so today I'm not letting you go. I don't care if Father gets angry. It'll be my fault, I'll tell him I threw a tantrum or that I fell and you had to take care of me or something. If Father gets mad, then let him get mad, but I won't let him be mad with you." Sasuke says boldly and Itachi looks at him sharply.

"You don't know what you're saying." Itachi says quietly. "You should not say such things lightly."

"I am not saying it lightly! I really mean it!" And Itachi can see, in Sasuke's eyes, that his little brother truly does mean it. "I just want you to have a little fun today, come on, please?"

Itachi relents. And Sasuke jumps for joy.

"Yay!"

:.:

"So this is what you wanted to show me?" Sasuke had taken Itachi to the nearby forest and led him threading through the trees until they reached an area sequestered off by blue taped sticks. A warning that Ninja were practicing traps in the area.

"Just wait, just wait," Sasuke motions for Itachi to stay where he is and quickly scurries past the taped markers and into the foliage. Soon, Sasuke returns, a pleased flush darkening his round cheeks. "Ok, it's all ready, come!"

Itachi steps gingerly into the bushes after his brother: not so much worried about one of Sasuke's traps catching him off-guard as he is of one of Sasuke's misplaced traps accidentally beheading him. Sasuke isn't supposed to be experimenting with traps yet—he hasn't even learned how to make one yet—so this entire thing is suspect. Though Itachi can not deny his curiosity.

"Ah…" Itachi stops and looks down. A tangle of wires and bells running in every direction ribs the ground at his feet. Itachi mentally gauges the work. Not bad, for a beginner, though it is much too obvious. Any two cent Ninja would have spotted this a mile away and avoided it.

Sasuke, meanwhile, is looking up at Itachi, his expression hopeful and eager to please. "Ok, so the point is to get the scroll over there." Sasuke points across the grid of wires and bells to a tree stump, upon which an old, ragged scroll lies. "Try it, try it please, Itachi-niisan!"

Itachi can not refuse such a pathetic tone, and he sighs, resigning himself to the task. He will not let himself get caught just to please Sasuke, and this amateur trap has no chance of snagging him. He will get through easily and Sasuke will just be disheartened. Oh well, it will teach his little brother to try and force him into helping out with his training.

It is with complete confidence that Itachi takes his first step into the wire maze. And so, understandably, it is to his great surprise when, barely five steps in, he feels the tell-tale snap of a trap being released and a shower of hard acorns falls onto his unsuspecting head.

A burst of giggles came from his right and Itachi turns to see Sasuke a few steps away from him, standing completely untouched within the maze of wires. Itachi raises a cool eyebrow at his younger brother while reaching up to dislodge the acorns still stuck in his hair.

"I put a chakra line in the tree. It sensed your body heat and released the trap." Sasuke explains and Itachi looks at the trunk of the large oak near him. Yes, now that he looked closer he could see the severed chakra line. He'd dismissed it earlier as normal life chakra from the tree itself. He'd underestimated his little brother.

"Yes…" Itachi says at length. "But… acorns?"

Sasuke laughs again and Itachi takes a single acorn between his fingers and flicks it at Sasuke, hitting him directly on the forehead.

"Hey!"

It is the work of nearly ten minutes to cross the trap and in that time Itachi got showered with acorns at least three more times. The area was wrought with little, innovative traps that Sasuke had set up, every one different from the other. Sasuke had been quite clever with his traps, and eventually Itachi was forced to use his Sharingan to see through them.

At the end of the setup Itachi, in a rare show of affection, places his hand on Sasuke's head and brushes back his hair. "Well done." He says. Sasuke beams.

When they eventually do return home, their Father, already there, has worked himself into a fuming rage. True to his word, Sasuke advances and, head hanging low, takes full responsibility for Itachi's absence at the meeting.

Their Father's harsh words— filled with anger that surpasses mere scolding—cut Sasuke deeply and Itachi can literally see the light in his brother withering. But when their Father advances on the cowering boy like a rampaging bull, Itachi steps up to defend his brother.

Sasuke always does make him do things the hard way.

:.: .:. :.:

Susano'o

God of the Sea and Storms

Itachi's last trump card. And Sasuke had made him play it. For the first time, someone had driven Itachi to his very limit. Regardless of his sickness, there had never been another person that could have challenged Itachi so completely. And he found it exhilarating. Even as his breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps and blood flowed freely from his mouth and dripped steadily down from one eye, Itachi felt alive. It was a good feeling, to be able to finally give something his all. To fight at his fullest capacity and not hold back at all… it made Itachi feel useful, fulfilled.

He smiled.

"Sasuke… You've become strong… Very strong."

And behind those coal-blackened eyes of Orochimaru's monster seal, Itachi saw a flicker of soul—a hesitancy in Sasuke's demeanour.

And then Sasuke flinched.

This was it, the moment of truth. Sheer will alone kept the beastly skeleton of Susano'o in existence; and it loomed over Sasuke, whose calm countenance was quickly fading. Itachi felt the parasitic, chakra swirling around his younger brother and he prepared himself. The dark chakra swirled, feeding on Sasuke's own aura, devouring it, and growing.

"No… no…" Sasuke's quiet murmurs were welcomed by Itachi and he watched dispassionately as his brother collapsed to his knees, shivering madly and panting.

Any moment now…

And then it came. Like an erupting volcano of writhing coils and scales, the foul belly crawling snakes erupted from Sasuke's shoulder in masses. Flashing their unhinged jaws and gleaming, venomous fangs in mocking laughter, they tasted the air with their tongues and blinked transparent reptilian eyelids at Itachi. Sasuke's body disappeared under the many coils of the snakes as they thrashed over the ground and surged toward Itachi.

With cold disdain, Itachi rose to his full height, extended an arm and—with the power of Susano'o—chopped the head off one of the monstrous snakes. Two grew back in the place of the one, such was the nature of Orochimaru's Hydra technique, but Itachi was not concerned. Again and again his hand fell and again and again the heads fell, severed at the jaw from the body. Itachi felt no weariness as he worked; the sickness was shelved, put aside for later. He had a purpose now, and he would fulfill it with the same, ferocious efficiency that he had once used to kill his family.

Only now he was doing it for a good reason.

This last epiphany seemed to shine a sudden light into Itachi's heart and he looked up in sudden realization.

A good reason.

The right reason.

Then Orochimaru's head emerged.

From the throat of a snake, Orochimaru pushed outward like the baby of Satan being born on earth. Slime and mucus coated his long hair, making it hang, lank and stringy over his face. Sickly yellow eyes opened with mad glee and a naked body: shoulders and chest, slowly emerged from the snake's mouth.

Then Orochimaru vomited up his sword.

"Here and now! The chance I've been waiting for has finally come!" Orochimaru spoke: yet another impassioned speech from another misguided leader that Itachi was forced to listen to.

Itachi closed his eyes and envisioned his purpose. It took time to draw the Sword of Totsuka and he needed to meditate.

"And it's all thanks to you, forcing Sasuke-kun to expend the chakra he used to keep me suppressed—"

Itachi's eyebrow twitched, he did not like the way Orochimaru's voice listed, very slightly, over his brother's name.

"I'll take his body for my own, and defeat—!"

And that was it. The Sword of Totsuka, that had once taken Itachi days to visualize, now snapped into sudden excruciating detail. Itachi's overwhelming desire to end Orochimaru's vile existence caused the sword to gleam and shine as it took its master's command for its own and speared Orochimaru right through the heart—seemingly of its own accord. It was the first time in his life that Itachi had ever desired something so strongly that his thoughts alone had literally influenced the word around him.

He had saved his brother from the curse.

And then, as the Sword of Totsuka disappeared once more from the living world, taking with it Orochimaru's soul, Itachi felt his own consciousness being dragged forcibly back into Sunyata. He no longer had the strength to fight it, and so—fell into the deep meditative state of Emptiness.

When he opened his eyes he was standing in the Uchiha compound, right in front of Sasuke's locked door.

There was a key in his hand.

Itachi knew the time had finally come, for him to unlock this part of his heart that he'd kept closed for so long. He had to understand. He had to know the truth, the truth about this useless life, the truth about Sasuke, and the answer to his ultimate question.

Would Sasuke live through this fight?

The choice was in his hands.

As the door opened slowly before Itachi, he gazed silently into the dark room, then stepped inside.

The room was bare; as it had always been. Their Father never approved of cluttering rooms with personal affects. The bed was impeccably made and every weapon was carefully stored.

…There was only one thing that stood out to Itachi.

A single, framed photograph sitting innocently on the mantelpiece.

Itachi strode over, gazed down at it with half-lidded eyes, and picked it up.

Sasuke was riding piggyback on Itachi and smiling happily down at his older brother. Itachi on his part was looking up at Sasuke with an unusually fond expression on his face. Itachi remembered that day. Sasuke had been trying to imitate him, as usual, and had fallen, twisting his ankle on the uneven ground. Itachi, taking pity on the poor, limping child, had offered his back to Sasuke; who had immediately clambered on happily.

While walking home, Sasuke hadn't complained once about his ankle. When Itachi had asked him why, Sasuke had responded simply that it didn't hurt while his big brother was carrying him. Itachi could not understand how such a simple act as giving Sasuke a piggyback ride could make the child so utterly content. It was one of the few times when Sasuke had managed to coax a smile out of Itachi. Not a sarcastic quirk of the lips or a pained grimace, but a real smile.

"Itachi-niisan"

Itachi gasped and dropped the picture, it fell, glass splintering on the ground as he spun around.

Itachi gazed wide-eyed at the vision of his eight-year old brother—standing in crystal clarity in the centre of the mental room—not a day older than that fateful night when Itachi had slaughtered the Clan.

"Big brother…" Little Sasuke stared up with big eyes, innocence hanging on by the barest thread. "Why? Why did you kill them? Why?"

Itachi's breath caught as he struggled with himself. Finally, after so many years of hiding it, of keeping the secret, he allowed himself to tell the secret to this ghost of his brother living in the deepest recesses of his own mind.

"They told me to." Itachi said. "The Elders… they said it would prevent war."

"But why did you have to kill them?" Sasuke pleaded. "Surely you didn't hate Father that much."

"It wasn't about that, they were planning on causing war in Konoha! They were all corrupt; they wanted to destroy the peace we'd tried so hard to maintain! I could not let them."

"There must have been another way—"

"There was no other way, Sasuke!" Itachi cried in an inexorable burst of emotion. "Why does it even affect you so much? Father never looked twice at you; the entire Clan was against us because we were part of the main family. They hated us and they had false values. They were hypocrites, all of them: preaching about honour, dignity and loyalty while they were planning a coup against the Elders… why do you fight so much for people who don't deserve your concern?"

"Don't you see, big brother?" Sasuke's voice was soft and he spoke as though Itachi was missing something obvious. "Just because we disagree or get angry at each other sometimes… it doesn't mean we stop caring about each other… Father… he loved us very much."

"He ignored you!"

"He did not ignore me," Sasuke shook his head slowly. "He kept me away from him so I could learn to fend for myself. Like both the severed branch and the tree stump feel pain upon separation, I believe Father felt the same pain I did. Father's scolding and his high expectations were like a hammer and chisel. They shaped me into the person I've become."

"Father's unreasonable expectations stunted your growth, it did not help you." Itachi's voice was sullen. For some reason it bothered him that Sasuke gave their Father complete credit for his growth.

"Your anger blinds you," Sasuke had a small, consoling smile on his face. "But you see… I loved him, in spite of all his faults. Just as I love you… and just as you love me."

Itachi looked up in shock. "I… you… don't…"

Sasuke gave a little laugh. "You can't fool me, I am within you; I can see your heart." Sasuke winked. "You must realize that once this is over… I will not rest. I will blame Uchiha Madara for your defection… I will blame Konoha for your actions, but I will not… could not, stay angry at you. You are my big brother." Sasuke approached Itachi and as he did, he seemed to age right before Itachi's eyes until he was again the teenager he was in real life and his eyes met Itachi evenly. He spoke, his one prepubescent voice now the deep baritone of an adult. Itachi felt a pang of—something—in his heart. It rose up, caught in his throat. Sasuke had grown… so much. So quickly. "You were young, easily manipulated and vulnerable. You were used and thrown away in the most degrading of manners and I hate them for what they did to you."

Sasuke raised a hand, as though to place it on Itachi's shoulder, but hesitated before lowering it. "You were the one who taught me how to hate. Now I've become good at hating." Sasuke's lips quirked downward and he spoke in that deep, sombre voice. "I have been living with that hate for so long that I don't really know if I can survive without it. It has become my reason to live. My hate will drive me to destroy you. And it will drive me to destroy this world."

"I will not let you." Itachi said suddenly. "I will not let you destroy yourself over this wretched world. Nothing is worth that."

"… My poor, naïve, older brother." Sasuke chuckled, and it was not a pleasant sound. "The world is worth as much to me as a single drop of water in an Ocean…" And he met Itachi's eyes fully with that dark, fathomless stare. Finally he laid his hand down on Itachi's shoulder, and to Itachi, it felt like the weight of the entire world had just been placed on his shoulders. "It is you." Sasuke says cryptically, his voice completely solemn. "Only you have the power to destroy me."

And the vision of Sunyata faded around Itachi for the last time as the world came into sharp, painful focus.

Sasuke… he looked so… lost.

Itachi did not want Sasuke to care about him; Itachi did not want his death to destroy Sasuke. He wanted Sasuke's disdain; he wanted Sasuke to hate him.

He wanted Sasuke to kill him.

So he reminded Sasuke of his hatred, and angered his little brother with crude comments about stealing his eyes and enjoying it.

It worked; Sasuke attacked Itachi with reckless abandon—eyes wide with the look of a person hunted to the last strands of their sanity.

"Your eyes belong to me now. I'll take them slowly… I want to savour this." The foul words, even as they left his mouth seemed to burn his throat and twist his tongue. As though in a physical manifestation of his wrongdoings, the sickness closed his lungs and he coughed wretchedly into his hand, air trying to force itself into a body that was already dying.

Then, looking up he saw Sasuke's expression.

It was the first time his sickness had wracked his body visibly while he was in front of his little brother. And Itachi was silently shocked to see the effect it had on Sasuke.

Sasuke's hand was outstretched, his mouth was open and he looked like he was reaching out to help Itachi. He looked… worried.

"Only you have the power to destroy me."

Sasuke… his little brother Sasuke: always the one to point of the good in his life, always the one to try and put a smile on Itachi's face. Sasuke was the only one who never looked up Itachi with an ulterior motive in mind, the only one who could love Itachi unconditionally… and the only one to show Itachi how to love unconditionally.

Sasuke had opened his eyes to a truth greater than anything the Elders had ever claimed to know. And Sasuke had done it without even realized it.

"My eyes…" Itachi murmured, only he meant it in a completely different way now.

It was the way Sasuke never bent to authority… if he did not agree with something he found an alternate route.

It was the way Sasuke inspired loyalty in others… never spouting lies or false promises, only telling the truth and letting people choose for themselves.

And it was the way Sasuke could remain so innocent… even after so many years, he had yet to kill a single person.

And Itachi would not be his first.

"Only you…"

Itachi realized now.

"Have the power…"

Why Sasuke had put such an important decision in his hands… he would never know.

"To destroy me…"

By making Sasuke destroy Itachi, Itachi would be destroying Sasuke. It was the vicious circle that had defined their life, had defined the very roots of their brotherhood. But Itachi would end this circle with his death and now he knew it was not his destiny to find that death at his brother's hands. He would not soil Sasuke's hands with his tainted blood.

A smile touched Itachi's lips.

"Sorry, Sasuke…"

He would not say 'forgive me' because it was above his place to ask. He did not deserve Sasuke's forgiveness.

His blood drenched fingers poked Sasuke directly in the forehead, then slid down, drawing a trail of dark crimson across Sasuke's pale cheek. A face so pale it looked fragile in contrast to that midnight blue hair. Just like their mother. Funny, Itachi realized idly, he had never really hated his mother—she was just so weak, too weak to stand against his Father… Their Father…

Sasuke did not move, not even to defend himself. He just stood there, looking at Itachi with wide, open eyes.

"This is the last time…"

And Itachi fell to his knees before Sasuke, toppling slowly sideways and finally coming to a rest at Sasuke's feet.

It was then, when Itachi looked up through exhausted, haze filled eyes, staring deep into the wide-eyed gaze of his only younger brother… then, that he saw: glassy, candid eyes betraying pure, untainted, innocence. It was then, as darkness claimed his vision, that Itachi knew Sasuke had forgiven him. Without even asking; without even being worthy. He had been forgiven.

And he was at peace.

:.: .:. :.:

"Itachi-niisan, no matter what, you'll always love me, right?"

"That's right, Sasuke."

"Good! And no matter what, I'll always love you too."

:.: .:. :.:

"I know, Sasuke…" Itachi murmured as his eyes closed and the sickness claimed his last heartbeat. "I know…"

:.: .:. :.:

THE END

:.: .:. :.:

Ahh! (Stretches) That was fun! And oddly, I actually feel better about it now. I may even understand Itachi a little better… go figure, huh?

I hope you enjoyed. There is no sequel (I guess that goes without saying, huh? ;p) but there is a slim chance of a possible brother fic entitled 'Judgement' or 'Hypocrisy' from Sasuke's point of view. I haven't decided if I want to write it yet.

Anyways, please review! ^.^

Edit, Feb 20, 2010: I came back to edit after Fanfictiondotnet deleted all my dividers and I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank all my reviewers! Thank you everyone; your reviews are all brilliant; they never fail to inspire and make me smile :)

Adio!