My Dearest Son,
If you are reading this, it means that I'm already dead, as is the rest of the Uchiha clan. And, if I'm not mistaken, you were the one who killed us, Itachi.
You probably will not receive this until long after that night, whenever it may come. However, I hope the day may come when you are able to read. Hopefully, it will explain quite a few things about my actions prior to and during the night that you kill us.
I have noticed that you've been acting rather strangely as of late. You've become distant from the rest of your family, the rest of your clan. This behavior is very unlike you, Itachi, and it worries me. At least, that's what your father would like me to say. I, however, am not so easily fooled. I feel slightly insulted that you would think you could trick your own mother into believing that you're any different from the day you were born. I know my boys, Itachi. Better than you realize.
From the day you were born, Itachi, I knew you were special. Even as a small child, there was an ancient wisdom I'd sensed early on. I knew as soon as I found out that I was pregnant again that you would be a hard image to live up to. That's why I focused so much on him while I was alive. It was to be sure that he would always have someone to turn to.
But all the time, I worried about you. What with the war, and you being forced to witness such brutal deaths. Your father didn't make things any better. His constant banters about how you were destined to lead the Uchiha clan into greatness. Being the faithful wife, I patiently sat there and listened as best I could. However, I knew in my own mind that your advanced intellect and understanding were more of a curse than a gift.
Your life in the Ninja Academy was short, as I'd expected, and feared. As a result of your academic excellence and your brilliance with gen- and ninjutsu, you were further on your father's radar than ever before. He was hell bent on making you the strongest leader the Uchiha clan has ever known, even stronger than one of Konoha's essential founders, Madara Uchiha. At first, I tried to reason with him, asking him to ease up on the pressure. This kind of attention was not healthy for a child. However, each time I spoke up, your father wouldn't hear of it. He'd shrug me off, and tell me to remain quiet. I soon learned my place.
After Sasuke was born, I began to focus my attention towards him. I got to raise him the way I wanted to, since your father was off doing missions or training with you. Though I am thankful for all of the time I was able to spend with Sasuke, I had this uneasy feeling. I sensed dark clouds looming overhead. There was going to be trouble.
I was correct. Not long after Sasuke was born, Konoha was attacked by the Nine-Tailed Fox Demon. I heard the sirens blare, summoning all able Shinobi and kunoichi to the Hokage. As I was approaching the emergency drafting room, Fugaku pulled me aside. I asked him why he wasn't in there with the others. The only answer I received was that it was not our place to interfere. I had no idea what that meant, and I still puzzle about it as I write.
Not long after was when we were forced to move to the Uchiha Compound. I realized they believed it was one of us who had summoned the creature, and they were placing us under surveillance. Unlike many of my fellow clanspeople, I held no anger towards the Hokage and the Elders for their decision. It wouldn't have been the first time, and only an Uchiha Sharingan can control the beast. Your father, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. He believed that there was no basis upon which the village leaders would place such discrimination. He and a few other clansmen began talking. Their already grouchy attitudes combined with their resentment towards the segregation created the Uchiha Council. They gained the support of many members. Soon, it turned from a small council into a full-blown organization.
Of course, all of this was happening around the time you were becoming a Chuunin and working towards the ANBU Black Ops ranks. Even through your rigorous training, though, you were still involved with the clan meetings, so I won't bore you with the details of the meetings and such.
It was soon after your ANBU admission that you began to change. You started arriving late to the meetings. You gradually stopped talking to your father and me. You hardly paid attention to Sasuke. Everyone was starting to get worried, including me. I was afraid that the work in the ANBU had overwhelmed you, and that maybe this was your form of rebellion. However, I soon began to suspect otherwise as you rose through the ranks of ANBU and became more and more bitter towards your family and clansmen.
Everyone was commenting on your sudden drastic shift in behavior. You were always such a sweet boy. No one ever thought that you would say the things you said or do the things you did. Some people were saying that this was just a phase, and that it would wear off. Others, however, began to suspect some sort of treason. Slowly but surely, I began to piece the clues together. I won't tell you my process because not only would it take too long, it would also involve something that not even you could understand: woman's intuition.
As your mother, I am required to have that sort motherly instinct, although it doesn't exactly help your case to have a former Jounin for a mother as well. The two combined are the perfect mixture to sniff out a son's complex routine of indifference and resentment. I gave birth to you, Itachi, I know you better than anyone, possibly better than you know yourself.
I was finally able to relax. My dear Itachi hadn't gone away. He was just hiding behind a mask for the good of the people. I knew from the start that you were never enthusiastic about the coup. You knew that many innocent people would be hurt. Yet, you participated in nearly every meeting in order to gather information to give the Hokage. Though I knew that you were technically betraying our clan's goals and disobeying you father, I was filled with pride at the fact that my brave young man was willing to stand up against his own clansmen—his own father—in order to protect his village. That thought alone makes me smile.
Itachi, I know that you will probably receive the order to kill us—if you haven't already—but may I just tell you how utterly proud I am of you. To have the courage to go directly against Fugaku in order to maintain peace and defend complete strangers. It doesn't matter how many missions you've completed, how many years you've been a Shinobi. The fact that you would save people whom you have never met, that alone makes you a hero in my book. Your standing up and fighting for your village, it gives me hope that one day this village can have some real peace.
I don't blame you for the loss of our clan. If anything, the blame comes back at us. We have been swept in our own worlds for too long. Perhaps the best thing for us is to be eliminated.
My son, Thank you,
MIKOTO UCHIHA
PS: If Sasuke must die, do it quickly, and with as little fear involved as possible. I don't want both my boys to suffer.
Oh mother, Itachi thought. You really believed I could have killed him. He stroked the dried tears stains along the bottom of the paper, and he wondered whether they had fallen before or after the postscript.
He folded up the slips of paper in his hand, and placed them in his cloak pocket. He walked to his bedroom window and gazed out at the bright sunlight. He didn't bother concealing his identity here. He knew for a fact that no one had been around the compound in years. He looked back at the open drawer where he'd found the letter. She must have placed it there the night of the massacre, he thought. He returned his gaze to the afternoon sky.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled the familiar deep sweet scent of the family's Matsu bonsai. It seemed like it was still growing strong, even after all these years. Mother knew how take care of that old thing, he thought, allowing himself a small grin. She knew how to take care of all of us.
Seven Years Earlier
Itachi, fully adorned in his ANBU uniform, sat patiently in the darkest corner of the unlit room, waiting for his final victims. All other targets had been eliminated, now for the two most difficult: his mother and father.
He heard footsteps outside the door. Silently pushing himself into a standing position, he waited as his target opened the door to walk inside. Halfway through the door's swing, it stopped. Itachi tensed still wary of his position and the possibility of backup if it came to a coupled battle.
"So," his mother said from behind the doorframe. "It's tonight."
Itachi nodded. "Yes."
"I see." There was a pause. "I suppose there's no way to avoid this."
"It does not appear so." Mikoto nodded grimly. Slowly, Itachi saw her figure leave the doorframe. Her slender form glowed with an acceptance he hadn't seen in anyone else his entire mission. Mikoto smiled at her eldest son.
"Do what you must." Though the talk was not something he'd expected from his mission, he felt obliged to converse with his mother as a sort of unspoken last wish. He nodded at her. She nodded at him.
"I love you, Itachi." Itachi felt his throat close. He later wished he'd taken the time to say it back to her.
He unsheathed his katana, and plunged it into her chest. As her lifeless body fell to the floor, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
Itachi reopened his eyes and gazed out at the cloudless summer sky.
To no one in particular, he whispered, "I'm sorry."