Chapter Twenty-One: The Crows Give Chase

Canon-Manga Info (Viz): Only an individual with the "same blood" as Itachi and a "Sharingan" can fight and fully resist his Tsukuyomi. Which is why Itachi held back to allow Kakashi to live as he lacks Uchiha blood and Chakra to resist it completely. If he hadn't, then it would have killed Kakashi as Itachi stated that "he could only resist this Mangekyō to some extent," as he possessed the Sharingan. But without their Chakra and blood, it was useless.

Sasuke has the blood, body, and the Chakra to use Sharingan to its full capacity: he's "genetically adapted" as Itachi stated. He's a pure-blood Uchiha and is the only one that can resist it completely (Obito or any other Uchiha can, as well); hence, if Itachi had to "hold back" his Tsukuyomi for a Non-Uchiha with a Sharingan (it would kill any Non-Uchiha with a Sharingan/Mangekyōif used at its full power), then it would kill anyone else without a Sharingan in an instant. Sasuke's eyes (and chakra) are also canonically more powerful than Itachi's and most of his Clan's: a fact mentioned by Orochimaru (and alluded to by Obito) and Kurama quite explicitly in the manga, which gives him a natural ability to overcome it easily. The Chakra Potency and Eyes' Power difference is something Sasuke will retain in my fiction.

Further Info: Also, Itachi never taught Sasuke anything in the manga, nor did Fugaku (telling people orally to learn Nature and Spatial Transformation isn't training). Keep that in mind. Sasuke learnt Nature and Spatial Transformation and the ability to combine them (a feat higher than A-Rank, as Kakashi stated, as it takes years to acquire and hone this ability) within a week at the tender age of five. This shocked Fugaku as it's a prodigious feat for a child so young.

Read the End-Notes as well, which continue this information, but not before reading the chapter as you'll learn of the 'authorial liberty' I've taken; otherwise, you'll ruin the suspense for yourselves.

# # # # # #

Rain cascaded down his cheeks and fell about him in slow motion as he flashed through the wet forest—a mere green blur to him. Autumn rains were relentless. They did not abate. He was southbound, not easing up his speed. He had received another letter from Mei that asked for his aid in tracking down an S-Class Missing-Nin.

He knew better than to trust her. It was a trap. But curiosity (and impatience, too) was getting the best of him. This was his chance—the chance he had been waiting for. He could still tilt it all in his favour by coaxing something out of her. She was quite fond of him, and if that was what it took, then he was more than happy to oblige.

He expected it to be a day's journey. Suigetsu and Jūgo were sent in ahead of time to make sure Zabuza and Haku were well hidden. If all went well, he would make it back before his brother suspected his absence. He had a few Anbu training missions in the forests and confidential matters to handle. He had his hands full.

He felt the violent and distressing palpitations of his heart. His brother's words were a dull buzzing in his ears now . . .

"Sasuke, I forbid it," he spoke, his face throwing away the soft veil of gentleness, "do you understand? You are not to accept any requests from her."

"But, Nii-Sama, I could—"

"Did you not hear me?" his voice came out colder than Sasuke had expected, and he fell silent almost immediately. "The mess your hopelessly foolish subordinate has created has yet to be cleaned up. Do not make matters worse for yourself."

Sasuke raised his eyes to look upon his brother's face: the soft morning light did not seem to touch the sudden appearance of hardness in his fine features; he sat beyond the large table, his appraising eyes running over him and wandering off to look beyond the window and then returning to look back at him. It was hopeless to argue with him any longer. Silence was always his friend when his brother refused to listen, to lend his ears to his worries. To Sasuke, Itachi was almost . . . whimsical in his display of affections.

"Do not make me any more angry than I already am," he said and Sasuke could almost feel the stinging whiplash of his uncaring tongue. "Do not make this like last time. I am warning you." Then he stood up and walked around the table and Sasuke could do nothing but lower his head and gaze at the smooth wooden-floor. "Leave it be," he spoke coldly close to him, and the matter was closed that day.

There was a curl of childish impishness in his smile today, a look of innocence in his face that passed into boyish purity for a few fleeting moments. He knew time had robbed him of his childhood. If he could, he would turn back the wheels of Time and regain the honour his family lost so brutally; sometimes, he wondered, did his beloved brother even care about his disgraced parents?

Sasuke's mouth twisted down in grief, a look of sorrow coming into his pale face pelted without mercy by the rain. This thought had haunted him for years. His brother avoided this subject as though it was an aberration, a contagious plague that would ruin his reputation. He had to force him into this.

It took time, but little by little, his brother came around. Seeing Sasuke in peril was something he could never stand for. They were always this way even when they were children. Itachi would watch over him when he played in the small clearing outside the Uchiha village.

He was young then, stumbling around helplessly, struggling to stand and find strength in his inexperienced feet. He fell down over and over again and scrambled to his feet to reach his brother, with hands held out from his body . . . calling to him. And Itachi always caught him before he stumbled any more. The struggles against the grasp of childhood and the thrill to tread into the adult life were lovely.

When Sasuke got hasty, he would fall down and skin his knee on the stones. He wailed from pain; Itachi rushed to him in such moments and tenderly tended to his wounds and carried him home on his back. He learnt a lot from his older brother in those days. He learnt to walk, to run, and to make small Shurikens at such a young age. His brother taught him all.

How quickly time passed away. Now, he was a fresh-limbed youth and looking back at that time felt like peering at a disappearing mirage. You could chase and chase it but could never quite catch it. It was that unattainable dream that was nothing more than a hopeless illusion for him now—lost behind the impenetrable gap of Time.

Loss was such a subtle thing that came back with a searing force when old wounds were picked at in earnest to let loose a thick flow of memories—one by one. The rush of them would flood him, snaring his soul and scarring his innocence beyond recognition. Then he would lock them up again, cleaning his consciousness like an expert magician, leaving no mark of that stinky muck.

Ah, the act of locking it up and letting the beast run wild. It was an obscene routine, a savage side of himself he had learnt to embrace, and his brother had learnt to embrace all of him. He loved him for what he was, not what he wanted him to become. At least that is what he imagined . . .

But there were times when he was to be disciplined. When he wavered, he harshly steadied him. He was a shadow behind his every step. Sometimes, he haunted him, forced him into submission. The fear instilled in Sasuke from his illusions was, perhaps, eternal.

His right eye twitched at the sight of a crow sitting up ahead on a branch, thwarting his path. Itachi's name sprang to his lips and darkness descended all around him—a black veil dropped upon his eyes that could see nothing. He put his hand out and crashed into the tree ahead. It did not quite break his forward motion. He toppled sideways and tumbled down, but this time, thankfully, he landed on his feet.

Sasuke jerked his head up to look at the sky blackened by countless of those accursed birds his brother was so fond of . . . crows! They cawed and circled overhead as if he was a rotting carcass they longed to pick and poke at, to take his eye out in sheer delight. He made to draw his weapon when a vibrating, swelling voice startled him.

"So disobedient when I told you to leave it be," Itachi whispered, and his voice bounced off the walls—invisible around them. It was not even a whisper anymore—too potent and heavy it was now. He was already in Tsukuyomi?

Sasuke did not know how to speak: his tongue was heavy in his mouth, and he was too afraid to possess any voice. Wherever he darted his eyes, a bizarre mantle of crows greeted him, flying endlessly into the grey horizon robbed of its hue. The droplets hung in midair, pearl-like and eerie in this world Itachi loved to drag him … for heart-to-heart and cruel punishments.

"N-Nii-Sama," Sasuke whispered and bowed his head. His lips shuddered from fear on his face.

"Finally found your voice? You insolent child," Itachi said from beyond the mist. It parted like obedient sentinels to let him through. He was still in his Anbu uniform and stood upright in that same arrogant posture his body knew by design now.

Sasuke raised his head to peer through the mist—his brother's face waxen and devoid of its usual tenderness. He immediately lowered his eyes, standing under the weight of his older brother's deadly gaze.

"You thought I would never find out?" he asked in a voice that seemed to expand painfully about them: it produced such ghastly effects with its potency.

"N-No, Nii-Sama, I—" he stopped, his voice lost, his tongue unable to chase and catch the words that ran through his mind.

"No, of course you did," Itachi spoke in mock sincerity, "you think yourself to be too clever."

"Nii-Sama, I . . . " He raised his eyes to look at his brother standing about thirty feet away from him.

He blinked and he was staring into the depths of his brother's red eyes a few inches away from his. The searing intensity of Itachi's gaze lowered his eyes against his will, and he lapsed into silence.

"Do not talk back," the voice spoke, floating to him afterwards from Itachi's unmoving lips; his swiftness was ahead of his speech.

"I should lock you in here for a few days to teach you a valuable lesson. You do not seem to respond well to my coddling," Itachi spoke again, and his warm breath fanned out on Sasuke's cool forehead.

Sasuke's throat burnt and his heart thundered. The sounds resonated through his every vein, every sinew, and every part of his mortal coil as though it was a sacred space made to resonate with his brother's sinister sing-song words. This was not the first time he would be punished this way. His brother had a cruel streak, but his unruliness would make him seek out that rebellious nature and let it loose.

He was accustomed to this false sense of freedom, this humiliation at his brother's hands. He acted out: he wanted to be a wild one. The thrill of testing his brother and his own limits had made a masochist out of him. Deep down, he knew this was coming—deep down, his beast craved for this delicious punishment to whip it raw, break its pride so that it could carve out its own with that much intensity—in reaction.

Sasuke was always at odds with himself. That night, wandering amid the scene of human shambles, feet sloshing through blood, had robbed that little boy of his innocence forever. He was gone. Its last whimpers vanished, lost to the night that would never come back again. Itachi's illusions scratched opened the long-forgotten wounds, and his frail resolve crumbled before his brother's own brand of discipline.

His legs buckled under his weight, and he fell down onto his knees. Red bubbled up to cover his eyes in form of a grotesque shield that allowed him a momentary luxury to fight back in a customary manner to break free, even though he did not will for this to happen. They were as instinctively rebellious as he.

He opened his mouth and cried out hoarsely, "Nii-Sama, I-I'm sorry—" He bent his head down, his nose touching the blackened dirt, his hands trembling by his sides—a mere child lost and helpless in illusions.

No sound came from Itachi. He stood over him, and his right hand slightly trembled in the grasp of emotions by his side—to reach out and touch Sasuke whimpering at his feet, begging him to stop this illusion. He clenched it into a hard fist. It had to be done; he needed to be disciplined; it was for his own good. He had already killed Fū out of revenge. How far was he willing to go? Itachi did not desire to see him tread that far.

Itachi had to be his shield, even if it meant protecting him from his own daemons, even if it meant making him suffer a little to halt his steps. Truth was never a necessity, reassurances were. He closed his eyes when he saw blood, flowing profusely from Sasuke's eyes, cruelly fall down on the dirt that drank it up with relish, thirsty for its taste for ages.

Sasuke's entire body shuddered and broke under the weight of his brother's illusion. "Nii-Nii—I can't—I can't see . . . " his voice wobbled with fear when he brought his shaking hands up to his face, his countenance a bizarre mask of red. He could see nothing other than an endless devouring blackness. "I can't s-see!" he spoke hoarsely, blinking rapidly to look around as if searching for a light in the darkness that had fallen over his eyes. His trembling ashen lips dappled red as he stared up with uncertainty in his eyes.

He stood up, his legs shaking under his own weight as if unaccustomed to his youth, still caught in the delightful trap of childhood. "I can't—" he broke off and lurched sideways as though a lost child regaining his balance, "c-can't see. Nii-S-Sama, I can't . . . " His voice was catching in his burning throat. He clenched his teeth, crying—just like a lost, pitiful child. Red flowed unopposed down his neck now, a network of eerie red veins on his white skin.

Itachi turned his head away. He had a black heart, but he could not bear to look upon his brother's visage, ruined by blood, tears, and a thick shroud of fear, any longer. He stood silently in the rain, viciously aloof . . . not moving and letting the terror of darkness consume his beloved brother who tried to wander off deep into the forest in search of his eyes' light: a somnambulist trapped in his own world of wondrous, vicious reality.

He did not make it far and crashed to the ground, exhausted and spent for the day. He had fainted. Itachi slowly walked to him and knelt by his side. He placed his hand on Sasuke's wet forehead and brushed his thumb against his bloodied pale cheek. "Sasuke . . . please, forgive me," he whispered and reached down to pick him up.

The rain had stopped. Itachi looked down to see a few raindrops trace defiant paths through the blood cooling fast on Sasuke's face. Letting out a heavy sigh, he flashed out of the forest with Sasuke . . .

Itachi was done for the day. The missions would have to wait. He sat on the tatami mat, with Sasuke lying on the futon. He had a high fever—a foreseen repercussion of Itachi's actions. Sasuke sighed and moaned in distress. His cracked lips were parted in pain. Itachi had spent the past fifteen minutes wiping clean his breast. The red was gone, leaving behind the redness of the skin where he had used the cotton cloth. Despite Itachi's gentleness, the harshness of the cloth left a reminder of his actions.

Now, only one side of his face was left untouched with the marks of punishment. It looked as if someone had painted that half as a crude joke. Itachi found no humour in it. That sight of it . . . it pained him to no end. He squeezed the cloth, which was submerged in a small pail of cold water before, and placed it on Sasuke's cheek.

Sasuke hissed and felt a sudden assault of biting chill in his hot skin. He was out of strength—a fainted youth lying helplessly under the covers, unaware of being wiped clean like a child, and cleansed at this point in adulthood of the venial sins he defiantly committed out of the vacillating rhythms of his precarious nature. True as it was, it was dangerous, even for himself.

"Itachi-Sama, I—" Yuu stopped and drew up short at the sight before him: Itachi wiping away the red marks on the side of Sasuke's face. "Itachi-Sama, w-what happened? Is he—"

"Let me worry about my brother," Itachi cut him off in his usual flat tone of voice. The subject was closed. "Did you bring what I asked of you?"

Yuu's curious eyes wandered slightly towards Sasuke, but Itachi's deep, disapproving gaze pulled them back to him. He nodded absentmindedly and stretched his arm to give the scroll to Itachi. "It's just like you suspected, Itachi-Sama. She's been going on missions with Sai's Team," he began and clasped his hands behind his back, "and without Sasuke-Sama's knowledge."

"Twenty-five S-Rank missions . . . " Itachi spoke in a low voice and ran his lazy eyes down the scroll. "So many and without Sasuke's approval—why?" he asked himself, deep in thought. A subtle expression of curiosity changed his countenance. He looked up at the lantern overhead that glowed with an eerie light. A pink moth fluttered around it, eager to meet its death on the flame.

"I asked Serizawa to eliminate the chakra from the Hokage's office as you asked. Karin went with him to make sure nothing remained behind," Yuu said and cast his gaze upon Itachi's Anbu jacket that lay discarded beside him. His sword was sticking out from beneath it, catching the red glow of the lantern. It gave the illusion of a heated metal that had yet to meet cold water (to give it a good temper).

"You may leave," he whispered in such a mellow voice as if making sure it would not rouse Sasuke. Yuu bowed down and left silently. He brushed Sasuke's hair aside and pressed his thumb into his cheek lovingly. Yes, he was such a child . . .

"Look, Sasuke," he broke off and gently pried Sasuke's right eye open with his thumb and forefinger, "an autumn moth. You like them, don't you?"

He bent his head down till his lashes touched Sasuke's: his MangekyōSharingan pulsed to life and gripped Sasuke's senses in his sleep, his hair cascading around his brother's pale face like a curtain. A tear sliding down Sasuke's cheek slowed down, obstructed by the sluggishness of Time. In the dream, his voice lost its potent nature and changed into that from a boy's mouth. "Look, Sasuke," he said and stopped dandling a three-year-old Sasuke and pointed at the moth flying just above them, "an autumn moth. You like them, don't you?"

Sasuke hopped off his knee and leapt up to catch it, but it was so far away from him. "Look, it's going for purple lilies—your favourite," he said with a smile and picked Sasuke up in his small arms. He, too, was only eleven. His let out a small laugh and rested his head against Itachi's breast and looked out towards the vast field of purple lilies set aquiver by the pleasant autumn wind.

Itachi wiped away Sasuke's tear, his forehead pressed against Sasuke's, and his eye held its powerful gaze, his lips still moving. "Look, it's going for purple lilies—your favourite." An innocent laugh rumbled in Sasuke's throat, and his dry lips quivered with a smile—just like a child, sleeping and dreaming a beautiful dream . . .

# # # # # #

EN - Canon-Manga Info: Sasuke, because of the aforementioned canon-factors, easily broke Tsukuyomi when he fought Itachi, as mentioned in the Databook and the Manga, using his Three-Tomoe-Sharingan. The myth of 'Itachi held back' is fan perpetuated nonsense and is completely non-canon as Sasuke was meant to break it since part I by Itachi's own admission. In fact, Sasuke put Itachi under Genjutsu several times (during the course of the battle, which Zetsu spoke of) quite successfully.

Most of the battle at the start between them actually took place in Genjutsu, especially Itachi over-speeding Sasuke to kick and overpower him: that was all Tsukuyomi and it can be easily ascertained because Sasuke was standing right at the same spot when he broke out of Tsukuyomi before Itachi kicked him back to the wall in Genjutsu. It's rather elementary logic, really; and it's mentioned quite explicitly in the manga by Zetsu, and he's a powerful Sensor, only beaten in this skill by Sage-of-the-Six Paths-Senjutsu using Naruto.

However, I have reduced Sasuke's ability to fight Tsukuyomi quite drastically, which means that Itachi's Genjutsu ability's received a major power boost that's very non-canon in its approach. Despite possessing the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, Sasuke isn't capable of fighting off Tsukuyomi . . . for now. You'll have to wait and see as to whether he'll be able to resist it or not in the future. I'm well aware that the power differences (the abilities I've not taken away from Sasuke) will create an 'intentional paradox': but it'll be an interesting 'paradox' to write about.

Words: 3,157

Characters: 14,095