This is actually a pretty old piece of work (that I lost right after I finished it), and I've been told it shows. Found it a few days ago. It's been edited and some parts have been rewritten. Spoilers up to chapter 401.
Disclaimer: Naruto is the property of Kishimoto Masashi.
Surviving Uchiha
It's raining outside; Itachi can see it through the office windows, a steady downpour enveloping the entire Leaf Village.
"Do you understand, Itachi?"
He faces the village consuls, the three of them regarding him with serious, questioning eyes.
"I understand."
His mother greets him with a smile; his father only grunts, eyes lifting momentarily from the book at hand to acknowledge him. There are two cups on the table, both filled with still-warm tea. A plate of snacks sits next to the jade green teapot, almost completely untouched.
Itachi pauses at the doorway. "Where's Sasuke?"
His inquiry earns another grunt from his father but his mother laughs it off, saying fondly, "He's out back, in the practice yard. Hasn't come in all day."
When Itachi gets there, the younger Uchiha is crouching on the ground, panting for breath. The sound is loud to his ears; Sasuke's shoulders shake slightly as he breathes, rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Itachi steps lightly, moving to stand directly behind Sasuke. When he crouches, the rustling of his clothes alerts the boy; Sasuke turns, eyes widening in pure delight as he opens his mouth to speak, only to cringe as Itachi taps two fingers to his brother's forehead.
He watches in quiet amusement as Sasuke tumbles backwards onto the grass floor.
Mirth is quickly replaced by frustration; his brother glares at him. "What was that for?"
The petulant expression brings a smile to his lips; Itachi lets it grow. "Sorry, Sasuke. Couldn't resist it."
Itachi watches silently as the younger Uchiha eagerly shows off the fruits of his efforts. When expectant black eyes seek his, he nods approvingly. "Have you been practicing all afternoon?"
The boy flashes two rows of white teeth, proud. "Yup!"
"You've improved."
At that, his grin stretches further. "Of course! I have to catch up to you."
"Is that so?" he asks, moving to pull out one of the kunai imbedded in the trunk of the tree.
Sasuke follows suit, collecting the kunai. "Yeah, but you're so strong. I," he hesitates, voice dropping, "I still have a long way to go."
Itachi glances at his brother out of the corner of his eye. Then, he ruffles Sasuke's hair, earning another sullen look. "Come on. We're going to be late for dinner."
That night, he meets his parents at the usual place. The candle illuminates the room, casting shadows on the walls, concealing his parents' expressions.
Sasuke is upstairs, asleep in his room.
"You are the backbone of our clan. The thread that connects us to Konoha."
"We're counting on you. Do you understand?"
Itachi keeps his gaze lowered.
"I understand."
"Father is…amazing."
Itachi glances to his back, his brother's face only inches from his nose. "Why do you say that?" he asks.
"Well, like you said, he's the captain of Konoha's Military Police Force. The other's trust him with something so important." He adjusts his grip on Itachi's neck. "They must really believe in him."
Itachi pauses, considering his next sentence. "Maybe, but a responsibility like that comes with risks."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"When people trust you, they start expecting things from you," he explains. "They force their opinions on you—their beliefs, their ambitions—and they want you to help them achieve it, regardless of the circumstances. When that happens, you change. You become someone else completely."
Sasuke is silent for a long time, long enough that Itachi glances back to check on him. When all he can see is the kid's hair, he returns his gaze to the road ahead. They walk on in silence, him holding on gently to Sasuke's legs, careful of the sprained ankle, his brother's arms around his neck and his warm breath tickling his nape. Sasuke is warm, a constant radiating heat that Itachi has long since learned by heart; his little brother.
"But…" Sasuke hesitates. Itachi waits, feeling the younger Uchiha's grip tighten around his shoulders. "But you haven't changed, brother. You're still you."
Itachi's lips twitch into a smile. "Let's hope I stay that way."
He remembers his first A-Rank mission, the first time he spills blood, the first time he kills. He remembers the cold realisation in his opponent's eyes, the way she had stared before she finally stopped breathing, her body going limp. He remembers shivering uncontrollably in the rain, a cold weight settling in his chest as he forced himself to memorise the woman's face.
He remembers the war, too. Not their faces; there had been far too many for that, but there are other memories—the screams, the tears, the despair.
'Enough,' he had thought, washing death from his hands for the thousandth time that month, the load in his chest growing and growing until he had to fight to breathe.
When he looked up, his reflection had stared back and two pairs of sharingan had met.
Enough.
The manner in which they greet him says it all; there is no turning back.
Itachi can feel his chakra seething. "So, you suspect me?"
In the next second, the three of them are sprawled on the street. As Itachi approaches, his sharingan activates. His blood is boiling, racing through his veins; for a moment, his vision goes completely red with fury.
"Don't judge others simply by their appearances. You assumed I have patience. You were wrong. You assume that it is the clan you must put first. You are wrong." He takes another step forward. "It is precisely because of your hermit-like thinking that you lie beaten here. Such foolishness, all of you. Can't you see what truly matters, even when it's screaming in your face? Can none of you see?"
"Itachi!"
"Look at you! Look at all of you! You've forgotten what is most important to you because you cling to something small like your clan. Don't you see? In the end, none of it matters!"
"Stop it already!" His father appears, moving to stand exactly between him and the fallen Uchiha. "What in the world is wrong, Itachi?"
"What is wrong?" he echoes. He can't breathe; his chakra is burning hot underneath his skin. "Everything."
His thoughts are a whirlwind of images. Chakra spreads through his body, heightening his senses until every inch of him is tingling. Power gathers in his palms, simmering visibly in the air around him, thick and dangerous.
"What is a name when compared to the life of a village?"
With a deft flick of his hand, the kunai sinks deep into the wall: a fact.
"Where is your honour?"
His father is here; his relatives are here. They are standing in front of the great Uchiha clan's grounds. They're all human, all Uchiha. They share one ancestry, one bloodline. United by name, they should be standing on the same side, an immovable force hundreds of years old.
Except Itachi is no longer one of them.
Enough.
"Brother, stop!"
Instantly, the chakra dissipates. His sharingan deactivates and he falls to his knees, lowering his head to the ground in the most humble bow of his life.
His apology tastes like blood.
The cloaked figure is silent, watching him through his mask, gauging his abilities.
The moon hides behind stormy clouds. The night is dark. A bird calls from a distance away, confident in the secure embrace of darkness; no one answers.
Itachi is acutely aware of the irony involved; he would laugh, except he finds that he doesn't have it in him anymore.
Finally, the outsider speaks. "And what would I get in return?"
"The blood you have always craved, all these years," he replies, bitterly amused at how easy it is to sell out one's own brethren.
"Well then," he says. Itachi can feel the man smile. "It looks like we have a deal."
Later that night, he goes to Sasuke's room. He treads softly, carefully avoiding the places that creak, his breathing so quiet that he can barely hear it himself.
In sleep, Sasuke's face is smooth, every feature free of worry. It gives him a more suitably youthful expression, filled with innocence and blissful ignorance.
This, Itachi thinks, this is my everything.
That expression—Itachi wants to preserve it. He wants to keep it safe from the world, away from all those treacherous whispers, away from the seeds of hate growing throughout their household. He wants Sasuke to live; he wants, more than anything, for Sasuke to wear the Uchiha symbol with pride.
Reaching out, he brushes his fingers against his brother's forehead.
"Be strong, Sasuke."
Itachi unsheathes his katana, watching the way his blade reflects the moonlight. Quietly, he repeats the vow he made that night, alone in the rain, alone in the vast plain of war.
He raises his sword to the night sky, one final salute to the silent moon, his sole witness.
"Enough."