The fog was dark, and dampened everything that was within its reach. To someone untrained, an adversary's hand could not be seen until it was too late. To the ninja running through the trees, this was as good a condition they could possible hope for. They had been trained in a place like this, where shadow and fog deteriorated sight; putting a ninja's ability to the ultimate test.
The team was in an arrow formation, taking the offense on their unlucky opponents. The ninja of Iwa would not survive this; they were sure of it. Nothing had ever thwarted this attack. The only flaw was how it operated. To anyone not yet exposed to gore and killing—it was living hell. Every opponent was killed, every enemy shot down…any that lived through the initial attack were taken it for intense interrogation. No ninja was chosen unless they were ready, no matter how dire the situation.
Deep in the undergrowth, a figure stood hidden. He didn't know war; it was the first time that it had progressed into his home village. He had heard of it—everyone had—but he had yet to face the reality. As he saw the Konoha ninja pass by him, he felt a surge of pride. His village was strong, and it had loyal ninja willing to fight for it. The boy followed after them, obviously lagging in speed.
He was almost there when he heard a blood curdling sound. A human screech. Birds fled from the trees, squawking fearfully; furthering the fear that the boy already felt. Daringly, he crept closer to the sound's origin. Nothing, not even facing the devil himself, could have prepared the child for what stood before him.
The Konoha ninja he had seen running now stood still; their faces coated in crimson. The blades also were stained, along with the kunai and shuriken. On the ground lay at least fifty bodies, some of which still gasped for breath. Some of the slain were almost unidentifiable as human. Heads could be spotted meters away from their respective necks. Arms and legs were attached by merely a few tendons.
Blood still ran from the veins of the fallen, saturating the ground until it was mud. The Konoha ninja moved to see who, if any, had survived the ambush. One kunoichi walked up to one of the unlucky few, and was met with a simple request.
The boy stood; frozen by fear. He could see the man's mouth more, but the words were so mumbled and distorted that he couldn't make them out. Much to his horror, the child learned what the request had been. The kunoichi drew her katana and sliced down the man's spine. The sickening Sound of splitting flesh echoed in the clearing, providing an equally as gruesome harmony to the scream.
Itachi watched from behind cold sharingan eyes as his family collapsed to the ground. Everything was the same. The fear, the screams; every detail matched with frightening accuracy. And, just like that day, there was one left standing.
Sasuke raced through the streets, his fear growing with every hasty step. Itachi could hear his brother's heart pound as he discovered each member of his family slain. He could taste the fear as Sasuke stood outside the door. When his sibling entered, Itachi once again hid under the cold façade. He watched as his brother ran, and Itachi feared what he may do. When his body finally left the bloodied compound, Itachi returned. His mind, still reeling from the intense similarity, was shocked and stunned. He knew not what to do to stop this pain; this hopeless feeling of regret and fear. When he once again heard his brother give chase, Itachi did not hide. He turned his head ever so slightly, hoping that somehow, someway, his beloved little brother could forgive him.
What Itachi saw in those eyes was hate in its purest form. It was what he had seen through that mist, and Itachi, for just one moment, was thrown back. The sound of ripping flesh; the splatter of blood onto a face of hatred: It all returned for that one split second. When Itachi dispersed the nightmare, he found himself crying. Quickly turning away from Sasuke, the murderous ninja sped towards Konoha's border.
Sasuke could never forgive him, Itachi knew. He never would.