Blood pooled in the streets around him, and bodies littered the ground. He screamed as he saw the figure emerge from the darkness surrounding him, and cowered in fear.
"Why?" he asked, trying to make sense when none was there.
"To tests my limits," the murderous shadow replied. "Cry all you want little brother, nothing will change."
"I won't kill you, you aren't even worth killing. Whimpering and whining for your life. Pathetic." The katana was not sheathed. It remained out, a constant reminder that the one in front of him was a killer. And would do so again if he so chose.
But Sasuke knew he never would. His brother would never kill him, just as Sasuke would never hate him. He knew this, and yet he still went along with the path that was being laid out for him. He was seeing first hand what being good got you, and he knew he didn't want it.
His brother was talking to him, telling him to hate him. To throw his life into a whirlwind of abhorrence and training.
He should have been paying attention. These were the last words his brother may ever speak to him, but they were awful words. Things that his brother would never truly say to him. These words had been forced into his brother's mouth by others. Danzo, Suigetsu, and even their father had brought these words into their lives.
The coup was the cause of all of this. But what was the cause of the coup? His clan was one of the founders of Konoha, and had been trusted for generations. It had all changed when Madara had attacked. It got worse when the Kyuubi was released, and the Fourth Hokage was killed.
None of the causes mattered though, because he was here, right now, instead of going through the past. Right now, Itachi was crying. Not where Sasuke could see, but he could feel the sadness coming from his beloved brother. This was because he had grabbed his sleeve. He had done it without thinking. It was a silent plea, a wish for his best friend to stay. He fell forward as his brother completed the handsigns for the teleportation jutsu. The dust and mud clung to his face as he got back up, and stood, looking around at the traumatizing scene before him. He felt a presence coming toward him, but it was far off.
It was suddenly much closer, and he got into a basic defensive position that most academy students learned within the first month. He had developed a way to use it as an elite and powerful taijutsu, with the correct muscle movements. Anyone who looked at him would think he was just another six year old. Most of his jutsu were built off of basic techniques that even some civilians knew.
The person with the chakra signature wasn't trying to hide, so Sasuke didn't have to pretend he couldn't sense him. This was the person he had felt near the Nakano shrine. They had been staying there for a while, and Itachi had talked to him earlier that day. This man had helped to kill the clan members that Itachi couldn't get to in time.
The man had an orange mask on, with a single hole for vision. He walked through the mass of corpses and gore unflinchingly, and stopped in front of the six year old, glaring up at him defiantly. The black, cloud covered cloak shifted a bit in the wind, and for a second Sasuke could see scars disfiguring the man's hand, forming ugly, shifting, designs. Sasuke had no doubt that the killer in front of him could still perform handsigns, ones that would lead to fatal, bloody jutsu.
"Sasuke." The masked man said, making his name sound almost like a sigh. He didn't reply, as he was unsure how much the man knew, or what he could reply with. After a moment, he felt a hand drape across his shoulder. His own hand shot out, reaching to defend himself. Suddenly, he couldn't feel anything, not the hand on his shoulder, nor the presence of the man who had been there seconds before.
He heard one last plea whispered on the wind before the Anbu arrived.
"Don't end up like me."