Fanning the Flames

by Kimia-dono

Why did he do it? Was there a reason? No one knows for certain how his mind worked, how it shattered into a million pieces, pushing him over the edge. The story of the Konoha's most pretigeous family and their downfall.

Title: Fanning the Flames: The Cursed Prodigy

Rating: Pg-13

Notes: This thing has, thus far, remained heavily in drafting stages so I apologize for any stalls that may occur in the future and hope that you keep coming back. It is the first in a trilogy so, yeah... ; Hopefully you all like it enough to come back for more later, and thank you for taking time out of your day to visit this fic. bows

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters situated within this fanfiction. Uchiha, Itachi and all of personages of this story are copyrighted strictly to Masashi Kishimoto.

Warning: This fic contains violence and mature content. :P Not that kind...yet. But we'll see. Anyway, had to let you know to save my ass...oh, and fowl language.

Fanning the Flames:

The Cursed Prodigy

He was the only one that mattered right then, as the world started to fall apart around him in that dark, stifling, room. There was too much here, too many things going on and he didn't like it, he couldn't stand the stench suddenly and he fell out of the room, gasping for breath. Things moved slowly even now, had they not retracted yet? Had they not gone now that the lust for the crimson liquid that had poured forth from countless people, spilling like badly placed paint across the grass mats and staining them permanently? He stumbled forward, even the air was thick with it, the metallic stench inescapable even out in the open. The breeze simply carried it to him, making him gag. He wouldn't be like this for long, it was not allowed. A shinobi never cries, one of the many rules set to govern a weapon's state of mind. There were many things that he wanted to say to that, but again it would never happen. He was too good at serving. He could feel the carefully built walls starting to crumble around him and struggled to keep them up, struggled not to empty his stomach out onto the grass of the garden that his mother kept so meticulously neat.

He stumbled down the lane now, into the part of town that surrounded the estate and held the rest of the lesser members of the family. He almost laughed, it was an insane thought, all of these people gone from him, no longer alive enough to bother him. You're the best, you're so wonderful, you're the most gifted. He couldn't stand it anymore. When he had finally gotten to this last stage, the last one, something had snapped. He had been compelled beyond everything to use this ability, to ensure that what they said to him really was true. He really was the best. The best. His feet made no sound on the ground as he moved along, his anbu uniform stark against the dark of the night. He had never been able to understand what possessed the Konoha officials to make these uniforms white. They were supposed to be operating in secret, were they not? Discarding these silly thoughts he kept walking. Go away, he thought sourly, I don't want this, this isn't what was supposed to happen. There was still a small part of him that could appeal to reason, but it was so tiny, so insignificant that he had been able to ignore it the whole time until just now. He attempted shutting it up again, which wasn't hard with the power still in place. A leaf fell before his face and he memorized it, not intentionally...but it played over and over again in his mind as he walked and he couldn't be rid of it. There was still one, there was, he was only slightly aware of it as himself, but his other self was keenly aware of his existence making it painfully obvious that he should be taken care of as well. The scuffle of tiny feet alerted him to his presence, a flickering across his mind like a ripple across a pool of water occurred and he frowned at its passing before letting go of it. He turned to find the source of it, heading back down the path. The child must have found his way into the house when he had gone out the back. His deep eyes, so very feeling for someone in their clan, something he had gotten along with looks from their mother, were filled with fear and sorrow. There were tears streaming down his smooth face, ashen with shock.

"Ani-ue...I'm afraid. I don't understand." He squeaked out in his tiny, pre-pubescent, voice like a frightened animal. It was broken with the tears that made a river in his skin. "Who did this?" it was a whisper that could barely be heard above the breeze that made its way passed them. He moved toward the younger boy, hand moving to his belt where he kept the last of his kunai stashed. But then he decided against it. There it was again, the ripple that couldn't be explained. He didn't let it bother him this time, instead he gave his baby brother an eerie smile, walking toward him slowly.

"Foolish little brother." He whispered, the smirk turning into something akin to a maniacal smile, breaking across his face in a sickeningly evil way. "You want to live, don't you? You want to live." He knelt before the smaller boy and grabbed the back of his head, laying his forehead against the younger boy's and opening his eyes wide so that he could catch the other's in his blood-coloured gaze. "Then live, hate, go on hating until it makes you strong, and then come and kill me." He knew what the ripple was now, it was the other one, the little bit of reason that was left in his damaged mind. Then there was the leaf again, floating along slowly, he could see ever little change that it made as it floated in his mind. Then he caught him, his little brother's eyes were sliced through and violated, and he could see all of his thoughts and inserted his own. He told him where to find the truth about the Sharingan, waited for the tortured mind to absorb the information and then leaving him to finish his waking nightmare and escaping the village before the other anbu arrived and before he was taken down by anyone else than Sasuke. He knew that Sasuke was the only thing he had left to hope in. The other boy was the only one that would ever become strong enough to kill him. He vowed he would not die until that day. He wanted the revenge for his clan to be sweet. Even if that sweetness was interlaced with bitterness.

The anbu were faster than he had thought they would be, his own team met him at the edge of the village and he smirked, his reason slowly leaving him once more.

"Itachi, stop!" One yelled. He knew exactly who it was by the voice and by the way that he moved. It wasn't hard to tell the difference between the other two, and he knew their weaknesses. He would toy with them for a few moments. He did stop, his feet finding a solid hold on a branch and he waited, hair brushing against his arms as he did. The sound of the crickets didn't even make a mark on his distorted mind. He waited for them. They arrived beside him and behind him.

"Itachi, why don't you come back with us, I'm certain that your father will want to talk to you." He turned his gaze to the man, the same crazed smile fixing itself on his lips once more.

"My father is no longer capable of conversation, you see. I cut out his tongue for him." This was a lie, but he may as well have done that, considering that he was very, very, dead now. The other two started, he could feel the chakras elevating with their fear. His mind rejoiced in the feeling and he decided that he had stopped long enough. He took out two shuriken faster than the normal human eye could follow and whipped them at his former friends. The two of them fell with sprays of crimson that sparkled a strange way as they flew through the air in the moonlight. Speckles dotted his uniform, like blood against snow. It was an elating thing for him and he basked in the sick pleasure that came with the distortion of his reason, something that he had lost a few months ago without realizing it.

"Keh, heh, heh, heh." It was a strange, almost strangled laugh that would have made anyone's spine crawl. He took off once more, not even bothering to look back at the village that he was supposed to call home. He watched the other two males fall to their deaths again and again in his mind, watching every single movement in the air as they fell to their deaths...not that they hadn't already been dead. He watched them over and over, never ceasing in the review but making observations as he went along. Soon he would gain a little of his sanity back, but until then it was elating to know that his family's blood had fallen in warm, sticky, torrents over his hands and he looked at the stains that still resided there, the metallic smell of blood not bothering him, not now that it was no longer overwhelming, threatening to send him spiraling back into reality. He watched his mother falling to her death, soft eyes and face contorted in confusion and fear. He had killed her second, she had witnessed the death of his father before falling to her own oblivion. He remembered the times that she had just held him when he was feeling hurt, when he had scraped his knees or been beaten particularly badly in sparring with his father. The man had recognized talent in him young, had trained him relentlessly and not stopped to let him take the time to have fun. For him there was no such thing as fun. After a while he had stopped going to his mother to comfort him when he wasn't at his best. He knew that it had bothered her, he knew it. He had also known that she did not love his father as sincerely as she tried to put across, though, and he knew that she was reminded of his father every time that she looked at him. That was why she had always been able to smile when she had Sasuke. The younger boy was a salvation for her. He had been allowed a normal life because their father ha d possessed eyes only for him. There was no regret in killing her. She was probably happier in death. She had been unfortunate in her life having to marry into the main branch. He remembered the blond-haired Hokage that she had once spent so much of her free time with, there had been tension then. There had been less when he had finally died. There were tears streaming down his face, though, and he didn't know where they had come from. He ignored them, but his mind turned to his brother's, playing them again and again, making their path down his face, spattering to the ground beneath and mixing with the spilled blood of the clan member that had been laying at their feet. Stop it! I don't want to see anymore! He didn't realize how far he had gotten until he stopped then and he collapsed beneath a tree on the forest's floor. His was wretched now, his reason had returned. His whole body shook and heaved and he gasped for breath, his Sharingan recounting for him again and again every single member of his family that he had killed. Sobs escaped his lips and he drew his legs up to his chest, plowing his face into them and trying to quiet the noise that he was making. Calm down Itachi. Which he managed to do for a few moments but then the feeling of overwhelming sickness took hold and he wretched, emptying the contents of his stomach on the ground beside his resting place. The bile was disgustingly sweet and burned the back of his throat. He caught his breath only to repeat the action once more. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and clunked his head back on the trunk of the tree. The night air was cool, which was the only rewarding thing about it in general, and he let it wash over him still panting slightly. He was slightly shaky and he looked about with a tired gaze. Noticing the red on his hands once more he was very quick to take out his water jug and he poured most of the contents over his hands before emptying the rest of it into his mouth and spitting it out in an attempt to get rid of the taste of bile.

I killed them, I killed them all. Murdered them with my own hands. The knowledge was numbing and made him hysterical all at once. He stared at his hands which still held traces.

You're strong, you were able to overcome them, kill them the way that they would have killed you, and now you are the strongest.

They didn't expect it, I killed them all in cold blood.

That is what a good ninja does...and you didn't kill all of them. Yes, it was true, Sasuke was still alive. He had left him the knowledge of how to kill him, he wold make certain he did, he didn't want this curse anymore. Then, when he had finally sunken his blade into his tender flesh, he would do the same and no one could have to suffer this Kekkei Genkai any longer. It was a contenting prospect to him, a family murderer, one of the worst of sinners. It was something that made death for him seem just that much sweeter an end, it would be a glorious end to their clan for good.

Itachi heaved himself to his feet and swayed for a moment where he stood. He had an appointment to keep.

"I look forward to our next meeting, Sasuke." He murmured into the breeze before releasing himself to the tree-tops once more.