Itachi never fancied himself as a leader. He preferred working alone, knew he was better suited for it. Danzo had evidently agreed with his assessment, though Itachi had still rarely been assigned solitary missions when he was part of the village. The lack of trust had been evident and, in his opinion, understandable given the Uchiha's position. He knew the ANBU were watching them, though he'd never personally been detailed to any of the assignments. He'd never been insulted by the exclusion, had merely tried his best to gain their trust by ensuring that any solitary mission he was given ended in success. It hadn't been difficult — those missions were his haven, a time away from both clan and village when he was able to do as he pleased. He had the freedom to strategize on the fly, to set up contingency after contingency without having to constantly explain what he was thinking to those around him. He was at his best when he was alone — that much had always been evident.

But despite his misgivings, he knew leadership had always been expected of him. He was Fugaku's first born, after all, and had been next in line to assume the title of clan head after his father stepped down from the position. His clan had been thrilled by the prospect. He was a talented shinobi, after all, a prodigy in nearly every capacity. He would surely lead them into a new era of prosperity, increasing their authority within the walls of the village and bringing everlasting greatness to the Uchiha name. Perhaps he'd even become the Hokage one day.

Itachi couldn't say he'd ever shared their enthusiasm. As everyone around him talked about their dreams for his future, Itachi would find himself longing for those solitary missions. He had control in those moments, knew exactly what was expected of him and knew he was capable of accomplishing it. His fated rise to power, meanwhile, had always felt like an unnatural transition, one that didn't particularly suit him. His parents did their best to prepare him for the role, keeping him involved in his father's daily work so he would begin to understand what being the leader of a clan entailed. He didn't mind the hours he spent by his father's side as a result, walking through the compound and discussing clan politics. From a philosophical standpoint, he found their talks incredibly engaging. They gave Itachi the opportunity to discuss his own ideas on life and morality, topics he could spend hours debating. His father had similarly seemed to enjoy their conversations, though Itachi suspected that was largely because he mistook his son's passion for the subject matter as an interest in his future position. Itachi had never felt the urge to correct him, had been content allowing his father to think that he truly wanted to become the head of the Uchiha clan. He had figured it was harmless enough; he had no intention of trying to avoid his fate, after all, so no one had to know how he truly felt about it.

Shisui found out anyway, of course.

"I don't know what you're worried about," Shisui had sighed one afternoon, lazily shuffling a set of shuriken between his fingers. "You'll be a good clan head. Hell, you'd be a good Hokage."

Itachi had only grunted in response, moving away from his cousin as he tried to figure out the angle he needed to throw his shuriken at to hit Shisui's asininely placed practice target. A shuriken landed by his foot a second later.

Itachi fastened his cousin with a glare, but the man only motioned him back with a finger and a cheeky smile. "Hey, hey, you're too far out. No cheating." Itachi rolled his eyes and took a step back.

"Better?"

Shisui tilted his head, assessing him. He shrugged. "I'll accept it. You need the help."

Itachi huffed, returning his attention to the game. "I'm going to ignore that." He could sense Shisui smiling behind him.

"You'll bitch at me about it later, I'm sure." A moment passed. "But really, you'll be a good leader. The Uchiha clan needs someone like you." A resounding thunk reverberated throughout the clearing as Itachi's shuriken made contact with the board. He made a face; he was a few millimeters off.

Itachi flinched as the butt of a kunai made contact with the back of his head, his eye beginning to twitch at the sound of his cousin's voice. "Oi, are you listening?" Itachi turned around, grumbling under his breath.

"What?" Shisui sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and shuffling his feet. Itachi raised a brow at the sudden tension between them, the game all but forgotten. When Shisui glanced up at Itachi, he looked surprisingly somber.

"You understand the position our clan is in, right?"

Itachi felt his throat constrict. He was painfully aware of the coup, aware of what his family had been planning for months and years. He swallowed against the tightness. "Yeah. I do."

Shisui gave him a small, empty smile. "Between the two of us, I don't think there's any doubt that we can stop the coup. But this clan is stuck in its ways. If we had someone like you to lead us, maybe there could be some actual, long lasting change."

Itachi sighed, pocketing the rest of his shuriken. "Shisui, I —"

"You know Teyaki still tells Sasuke that absurd story about Madara whenever he gets the chance," Shisui interrupted, laughing quietly to himself.

Itachi paused at the sudden shift in topic. He knew what Shisui was referring to — Sasuke had relayed the story to him hundreds of times. He'd always listened patiently, ignoring the urge to correct all of the blatant untruths present within it and instead allowing his brother to believe that the Uchiha had somehow been heroes on that fateful night. He knew his brother likely still believed the story to be true, but he'd been under the impression that Teyaki had stopped telling Sasuke the story years ago.

Shisui turned his face towards the sky before continuing. "I get that Teyaki's just trying to keep him away from the slander surrounding our family, but eventually the kid is going to realize the whole thing is made up." He sighed. "But for the time being, it gives him a reason to wear the Uchiha name with pride. And that's worth something, I think."

Itachi turned his gaze towards the ground, felt the weight of his clan's past wrapping itself around his bones and tethering him to the earth. He took a shaky breath. "Do you think that he'll stop?"

He felt Shisui's eyes on him. "Stop what?"

"Having pride in his name." A heavy silence filled the clearing. Itachi took a deep breath, tried to focus on the way it shuddered through his lungs. "If there was a way to keep Sasuke from finding out about everything," he began, closing his eyes, "I'd do it." He took another breath. "I'd do anything to stop that from happening." A moment passed before he heard Shisui's shoes scrape against the earth. A hand gripped his shoulder, and Itachi opened his eyes to see his cousin gazing down at him.

"We can't change the past," Shisui admitted. "But we can give Sasuke and the entire clan a future that they can be proud of. You'll give them a reason to have pride in the Uchiha name." A smile played at the corners of Shisui's mouth. "You'll be a good clan head. Hell, you'll be a greatclan head." A blinding grin split across his face. "I'd do it myself, of course, but even I have to respect tradition. And you're not a bad second choice."

Itachi had walked away from that conversation feeling mildly better about his fate. Perhaps he could initiate some meaningful change. And if it meant he could give Sasuke a better future, he'd gladly spend the rest of his life leading their clan.

Then the massacre happened and it hardly mattered anymore.

Itachi still found himself occasionally wondering whether he would've made a decent clan leader. But then he'd remember the blood and the broken bodies and his brother's tears and how there was no clan left to lead. He was alone, without a family, without a village, surrounded by hundreds of strangers who had decided to put their faith in him for reasons he couldn't entirely comprehend.

Itachi Uchiha had never fancied himself as a leader. But somehow, that was exactly what he had become.

• • •

The group was mostly made up of rogue shinobi. There were a few civilians in their ranks, but he'd found that ninja tended to be drawn to them more frequently. Or perhaps there were just more shinobi with no where else to go.

Itachi didn't turn anyone away. He only required that they have peaceful intentions; that alone was enough to join. After all, he was hardly in a position to judge anyone's past actions since most were under the impression that he'd murdered his entire clan.

At the beginning, Itachi had considered trying to clear his name. His rage had nearly blinded him when he realized what had been done to his brother, the feelings of betrayal urging him to blow up the entire operation and ruin Danzo and the Leaf so completely that there was no chance either could possibly recover.

Sasuke was still out there, though. He could do nothing to Danzo and the Leaf until he was sure that his brother was safe. So he cooled his temper and instead found solace in the life he planned to create for them both. He'd find them a place where they could start a brand new life, a place where no one knew their names or history. He'd build them a haven, a home where they'd finally be secure. He'd build it with his bare hands if he had to.

But first, he needed to find Sasuke.

He'd tracked his brother to Orochimaru, was biding his time in the Land of Sound waiting for an opportune moment to extract him. He met a lot of people during that time, fellow rogue shinobi running from a host of other nations for one reason or another. He ate with them, drank with them; he even shared bits of his past life with them, on nights when the nostalgia grew too strong and he couldn't close his eyes without seeing his family standing there, smiling back at him. He tried to focus on the good memories, avoiding any mention of the massacre for his own sake. He was aware that everyone he spoke to truly thought he'd committed the heinous crimes he'd been accused of, and he intended to use that to his advantage. It made him one of them, a fellow rogue shinobi who had done wrong and had wrong done unto them, the horror he'd purportedly perpetrated making him someone worth trusting in this realm of criminals. It didn't make the lie any less painful, however.

Despite their apparent ease around him, Itachi only ever truly confided in a select few of them: one whose eyes reminded him of Shisui, another who had dimples just like his mother, and another whose stature was chillingly reminiscent of his father's. He told them his intentions regarding his brother and their future on a whim, not believing that any of them would think much of his spiel, let alone ruminate on it for their own purposes. But apparently, they'd all found the idea rather enticing.

And so his vagabond group began to take shape.

They'd decided to attach themselves to him, moving where he moved, peppering him with questions and ideas the entire way. They suggested locations and routes, places they'd heard of where no village had jurisdiction. Itachi had listened silently, tolerating their presence and permitting them their fantasies so long as they didn't interfere with his ability to procure his brother. The group provided a reasonable amount of cover and safety, he figured, so there was little harm in allowing them to stay around if they wanted. Plus, their ideas weren't awful.

He was only mildly alarmed when others started joining. The rogue shinobi had evidently been talking, speaking of his intentions as if they were some sort of gospel. He'd wake up to two, three new faces a day, all asking permission to follow him to this paradise. Itachi had only begrudgingly agreed, not having the heart to turn away such hopeful faces. He had no idea what rumors were floating around about him, couldn't even begin to fathom what they were telling each other about his supposed goal. He didn't even have a clear plan, but none of them seemed to mind that particular hiccup, too blinded by the possibilities of what could be. So he tried his best to monitor them, to ensure that they were eating and sleeping well enough. They weren't inherently bad people, he told himself, merely victims of the same shinobi system that had decimated his own life. They deserved peace as much as he and his brother did. And only then did he begin to think that he might be able to give it to them.

His brother vanished soon after.

Itachi knew Sasuke wasn't dead, would have felt it in his bones if he was. But, wherever he was now, he was far beyond Itachi's reach. Itachi had been in denial about it for some time, refusing to move the group in the hope that his brother was somehow making his way towards him.

A man named Aoi had approached him after a week of no movement. "They're anxious, Itachi," he explained. "They know you've lost track of your brother. You have to make a decision, or they're going to start going off on their own." Itachi had to bite back his initial response, telling Aoi that he hadn't wanted any of them following him in the first place, that they were free to go where they wanted; he wasn't going forward without his brother beside him.

But then he remembered Shisui, remembered his dream for a better future. Itachi could still carve out that future for Sasuke. The group was large enough; his brother would surely be able to find them when he was ready.

Itachi sighed. "Tell them we head east tomorrow."

• • •

They'd been traveling for months. The group remained peaceful, slowly meandering across the continent on their quest for refuge. People continued to join them, all welcome additions given that their size was the only real deterrent against village attacks.

Itachi knew that they were being monitored, knew that every village was obsessively tracking their movements. They had good reason to, after all; most members of his group were listed in some Bingo Book, giving each village ample reason to try and eliminate them. But the group was organized enough to thwart most small assassination attempts, and no village seemed willing to deploy an entire army to fight them. Itachi suspected that the villages were simply waiting for the group to implode, for them to all start killing each other because they believed that rogue shinobi were inherently selfish, murderous individuals capable of nothing else. The village leaders all likely assumed that it was only a matter of time before the group naturally dissolved, and they wouldn't even have to expend any time or resources to make it happen.

Had Itachi still been part of a village, had he not experienced the trauma of being manipulated by Danzo for years, he might have believed the same. But the people he was traveling with were not bad. They were all victims, oppressed by a political regime that decided it no longer had any need for them. He would admit that some of them had done awful things, things that couldn't possibly be justified. But no one traveling with him was unwilling to change, to become better. They wanted a new life for themselves, one filled with peace and security. And Itachi intended to help them get it, both for their sake and his brother's.

Sasuke was still unaccounted for. Itachi found himself constantly glancing at the horizon, hoping he'd catch sight of his brother making his way towards them. He couldn't stop the anticipation that bubbled in his chest whenever a new person joined the group, hoping that when he came face to face with the newcomer that they would turn out to be his brother. He thought he'd have learned to keep his wishful thinking in check by now, but it felt unnatural to fight against it. He knew he'd be reunited with Sasuke one day; it was only a matter of time. And until then, he'd remain hopeful.

He felt unbelievably justified for holding that philosophy when Aoi ran up to him at the end of the day, a huge grin spitting his face. "There's been word on your brother, Itachi," he panted. "The people who just joined — they said he was in the Hidden Waterfall Village."