What You Don't Know
Uchiha Itachi didn't know what he didn't know.
What he knew was the fighting, the coppery scents, the clang of weapons. He lived in a world that was divided between allies and enemies.
Even family fell into either of those two groups.
When your first toy was a kunai and your father had always been your sensei and commanding officer, family was nothing. When your mother staggered into your home soaked in guts and mud and thanked you for killing a man before collapsing on the couch and asking you to sew up an injury, family was more than nothing. It was an abstract concept, and he supposed his parents might feel the same way.
Itachi had always been smart. A genius. Blessed with such ability, talent and comprehension skills that although he did not know what he was missing out on, he knew that not every family in the world could be like his. From what he had read in children's books during rare downtime, mothers were supposed to coddle and protect their children. Fathers were supposed to support and nurture their children.
Children were supposed to feel more than fighter's common respect for their parents.
Perhaps there was something broken in him, he reflected. He felt no real love for his parents. They were fellow Konoha shinobi, and that was the reach of his care for them. There was only one true thing Itachi loved, and that was his village. A genius such as his was able to perceive that not loving the reason he existed and only loving the reason he fought hinted at self-hatred and masochism.
However, in the end, no genius could truly make a simple four year old understand just how twisted the human emotions and the mind could become.
He did not know everything and he was oblivious to what he did not know, but one day he might not be. And even before that day came, he stared at his reflection in his newly-cleaned kunai in the calm of no battle and thought to himself, 'I will never love anything like I love my village. If it weren't for my village I would never know love.'
However, because he did not known everything, including the future, he was soon proved wrong.
The beginning of those changes came slowly, like the first peace treaty signed after years of war, or the single leaf on a winter-barren tree. His mother hugged him, the first time he could remember her ever doing such a thing, and whispered, "I'm pregnant. A little baby sibling for you, Itachi."
He paused, caught in the hug. Logically, he deduced several things from what had just transpired. His mother had shown a vulnerable side he didn't know existed. There would be another member to their disjointed un-family. And his parents had somehow had enough energy to engage in such activities which led to children.
A frown graced his small mouth as he gazed at his mother's shaking shoulder in slight contempt. "You weren't fighting hard enough in battle if this happened." He pulled back, wide dark eyes narrowed in annoyance. "It's a burden that will make you a burden. Kill it."
He supposed this was a day of firsts, because he felt something other than annoyance or respect about one of his parents. Guilt. His mother has opened up to him, and he did not know that. He learned, like he always did so well, when he saw her dark eyes so much like his own flash and her shoulders slump. Her arms fell uselessly at her sides as in a soft, sad voice she said, "I just want to be a mother. I've never been a mother."
The words cut both of them, and Itachi sighed, closing his eyes. "Fine. Keep it. I don't care." And it was true. There was no anger, hatred, animosity, jealousy, love, care or expectancy directed towards the baby. How could he care? It could kill his mother and his world would remain unchanged. Well, perhaps the loss of a ninja to their sides would hurt him, but he supposed he would feel much more hurt if the Hokage died.
And so ended the first mocking portrayal of love between him and his mother. The next day, he slit a man's throat then hid under his body in order to trick enemy nin into getting closer to him and their eventual deaths.
However, no matter how slow, changes did come. More leaves, more peace treaties. His mother's stomach, slowly inching from flat to curved.
............
Eight months later, a blanket peace treaty was signed. Itachi finally found something he loved more than his village.
Peace.
It was hard at first, living in a world that was so radically different than where he had been raised. What did one do during peace? For many nights Itachi woke up from nightmares in which he slaughtered mercilessly into a existence where he severely injured at least one person a day due to tense nerves.
He adjusted in the end, though it took nearly a month, and found a calm associated to peace he soon adored. No more killing, fighting . . . he learned something he never knew – that peace was the most rewarding thing after a battle. Not the death count, or the pleasure of protecting your village. Peace was his new center, his new way of life.
His new calm was well-tested when his mother staggered into the kitchen, dress stained with something unidentifiable, clutching her stomach and crying out in pain. Itachi knew how babies were made (roughly) and how long they took to come into the world (roughly). A mother's birth pains were not something he had ever experienced. He never knew a woman could shriek so loud when no injury or battle cry was involved, and he decided that day he had been better off not knowing.
Using his chakra and his tiny body to help haul his mother to the newly-rebuilt hospital, Itachi was told how he had been born in the middle of the Hokage's office, when his mother had been far too stubborn about handing in her mission report even while she was suffering from contractions. Contractions – that was a new word, and Itachi was far more interested in that than hearing about how he and his mother had shared such an intimate moment once upon a time; their first and their last.
'No wonder I'm so loyal,' he mused, as his thoughts turned to his coming into being in the Hokage's tower. His mother was absent from this mental image, as she might as well be absent from his side. He did not see her frown when he did not ask further questions.
Uchiha Mikoto was a lonely woman in the sense of family. All she had was a husband she loved dearly, and a son she cared for . . . but in reflection, never loved. Itachi was a polite, strong, smart, beautiful boy. When she stared at him, she felt as if she were admiring a piece of priceless art. When she thought of the baby she would soon give birth to, her heart filled with such indescribable joy and love it nearly moved her to tears.
She rarely looked Itachi in the eyes because of this. He would surely see the guilt burning there, because she had no reason at all to not love her first born son, only to be so impassioned by an unborn, unknown child. She supposed she had felt connected to Itachi before missions and fighting had led him to be cared for by another woman – who had died not long before Itachi began his training. It crossed her mind occasionally that if she was lonely, Itachi must feel like a man lost in the deserts of the Kaze country.
Only occasionally, however. Her son rarely crossed her thoughts unless he was directly in front of her, and that was a truly rare occurrence indeed.
They were like two strangers in a house, who had fought in a war together, who knew each other at their worsts but never at their bests.
............
Itachi had been born in a short, easy birth. A quiet baby. He came into the world with barely a whimper, and only his deep breaths and his twitching fingers indicated life.
Itachi's little brother came into the world after an intense, fourteen-hour birthing process in which he needed to be turned around to save himself from being strangled on his own umbilical cord. Once out, he had screamed to the high heavens, not quieting until he was placed in his exhausted mother's arms.
Itachi, forgotten in the corner, watched the entire process with a delicate sniff at the more extreme parts. He had killed before he knew fully why he was killing, but watching a slimy, wrinkled thing be wrestled out of his mother was a whole new level of awful. And the amount of noise it made when it was born astounded him.
Watching his father (who arrived at hour six) tear up at the sight made him snort in scorn. Seeing his mother's expression of pure happiness as the bundle was placed in her shaking arms caused his eyes to roll in exasperation.
Witnessing his disjointed un-family finally become a real family while he sat as an outsider had him silently leaving the room to bawl like the young child he had never been.
The next few months, most of those feelings he thought he wouldn't feel – anger, hatred, animosity and jealousy – hit him from all angles every time he veered to avoid his younger brother. The baby's name was Uchiha Sasuke and he was only two months and eight days old, yet he already managed to affect Itachi like no one person ever had.
'It does not matter. I will soon forget him.' He enrolled at the Academy to increase all his skills, and spent his days and extra hours achieving, leaving people proud and . . . scared of him. His father's words -- "as expected of my son" -- did not inspire him, because he knew his father's new softness was all because of Sasuke. And the fear, because he was so good, too good . . . Sasuke did not scare people. He made the giggle and smile and "aww" and glow from the warmth of love. Itachi may have been the clan pride, but Sasuke was the one they all were proud of.
"He's going to grow up spoiled." Itachi remarked as his mother waved a new toy in front of the baby in her arms. Itachi watched out the corner of his eye, as during the three months Sasuke had lived with him under the same roof Itachi had managed the stunning feat of not once truly looking at his younger brother. His mother said nothing, though he knew she knew he was avoiding Sasuke on purpose.
"No he won't. And his name is Sasuke, would it be so difficult to use it, Itachi?" The young boy didn't reply, instead tracing the underside of the small table where he had once carved a famed fifty-line war poem during a bout of insomnia.
'. . . A shinobi must understand the proper time . . . when the enemy is tired and ill-prepar--' his perfect mental recitation was cut off when a warm, squirming bundle was placed in his arms. Itachi froze up. Among the things he knew existed, but had never experienced, was freezing up. When it had come time to kill his first enemy, he had not hesitated. Here and now, with a delicate, mysterious creature in his arms, he found his normally continuously active mind short-circuiting.
His mother's voice dimly penetrated his shock. ". . . don't drop him . . . I'm going to get his bottle . . ." and as her quiet footsteps retreated, Itachi found the courage he normally never thought twice about but had seemingly abandoned him. Shaking slightly, he pushed back the blue blanket and took in Uchiha Sasuke for the first time.
A round, pale face with rosy cheeks. A toothless mouth, wide in surprise just like his large round eyes – eyes the same shade as Itachi's. Other similarities automatically registered with him, like the shape of the ears and the colour of the hair finely distributed on top of Sasuke's head. As Itachi watched, Sasuke's small hands with pudgy little fingers were brought together as a delighted squeal came from his wide mouth.
This was his little brother, the one who he had never truly met before . . . the one who seemed to like him already if the happy smile stretching across his face was of any indication.
Itachi was awed into a silence somehow so much more profound than what he normally sat in. His alert eyes followed as a stubby arm reached up and grabbed hold of his long hair, draped over his shoulder. Sasuke did not yank, he only made a noise which sounded like "ah goo" and wrinkled his nose. Itachi marveled at the complete, solid perfection that the baby in his arms presented. And . . .
. . . the unconditional love he could practically see forming between them as he gently rocked the baby in his arms. Itachi knew many things, he understood many things, had experienced many things . . . but he had never known how powerful this could be. Loving your family, caring for them or expecting how many amazing things could form between two individuals linked by blood and bonds that ran so deep they could never be forgotten.
He had never known quite what he was missing. It was impossible to know what you did not know, and Itachi had never known what it was like to love another human being. The feeling floored him now, inexplicably quick as he imagined a future shared with someone who cared. Many desires ran through him – to cry, to laugh, to scream. He settled with a smile, holding Sasuke tighter.
This was his little brother. This was his whole family, his future brightened from bleak to full, perhaps the only person he would ever love, and in a way the first thing he had ever truly loved completely.
He loved his village – but how did a cluster of people, buildings and ideologies compare to a living, breathing little brother?
He loved peace – but tranquility and no war were silly when you made up your mind to protect a single person so completely. You would kill for them, die for them.
He was five years old and for the first time he murmured, "I love you."
............
Maybe if Itachi had loved his parents, loved his clan members, loved his Hokage, he would not have been so affected by the simple realization that he loved his little brother. However Itachi did not love his parents, his clan members or his Hokage. He loved Sasuke, only Sasuke.
Sasuke was his Suna, coming out from behind a sandstorm that left Itachi blinking and gasping and scared. Sasuke was the Suna that would erase the marks of loneliness like the shifting sands of the desert erased the signs of his lost wanderings. Sasuke was his Suna, his safety, his humanity.
Itachi did not know what he did not know, but he did know that if nothing else he had finally found a place he fully belonged – with his little brother, Sasuke.
"I love you, little brother."
The End
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