As massacres went, this one was unusually quiet.

Someone had warned them, or they had put it together themselves. Either way, they had made their decision.

Itachi stared at his fellow clansmen, waiting silently in the streets with drawn weapons, charging forward with only whispered curses, and he knew that they knew their only remaining hope was to die with dignity, going down fighting.

The adults who could not fight took the children with them. Let not the little ones suffer, or to deny the village. Perhaps both.

His family was waiting for him to do the same for them.