a/n: The following chapter is not Itachi/Sasuke incest, but simple brotherly love. Sorry, just had to get that out of the way. Enjoy, review, and if you want me to continue (or do something similar with different teams) then tell me so. xD
It's hard to imagine how much I adored him.
I can't describe it. I worshiped him, loved him. I wanted to be exactly like him. He was my big brother and my world revolved around him.
I would come home from school, and he was there. He would take my hand and help me with my training. He was always there for me, to listen to me ramble in the way that little kids do.
He was the best big brother ever.
I'd exclaim that I wanted to grow up and be just like him.
He'd smile a slight smile, one that never touched his eyes, and he wouldn't reply.
I didn't have any friends at the academy, not really. Itachi's was the only friendship I needed. I would play with the other boys, but I didn't care much about them.
There were two people that always stuck out, though. That I think I might've made friends with.
One was a girl. She was incredibly shy, with pink hair. I never got the chance to see her eye color, because her eyes were always hidden. I always thought she looked sad, and being the way I was I would smile at her, try to make her feel more welcome. This only seemed to distress her more.
There was a boy. He was blonde. He never played games with the older boys, and I knew he was an orphan. I felt even sorrier for him. To not have a brother, or parents, or anyone…That was a loneliness I never wished to experience. In my childish logic I kept away from him, as if that loneliness was a disease.
Itachi and I even looked like each other. Same eyes – brown, later blood red – with dark hair and pale skin.
We didn't act alike, though. Itachi was quiet, brooding. I was cheerful, so my parents said. I guess they weren't around to see me when my attitude on life changed. I don't know what they'd say about me now.
Our capabilities were not similar, either. I had potential to be a solid ninja, but Itachi was the greatest ninja Konoha had seen since a certain Hatake Kakashi.
But I loved him anyway. I loved him even though my parents hardly even looked at me when Itachi was home. He always had time for me – he always had time to talk to me, to smile at me – and if that happened, then I was fine.
But he started coming home less and less. He didn't even make time for me anymore, and that's when I first started to feel lonely.
My father reluctantly took me out while Itachi was on a long-term ANBU mission. My mother convinced him to do it.
He taught me our family jutsu, the fire one. I was fairly young at the time, so the exercise wasn't really appropriate. My father didn't really care if I could do it or not. He just wanted to do something with his younger son for a couple of hours to please his wife.
He was not an unkind man. He loved me; wanted to spend time with me. But he already spent all of his time doting on Itachi.
I mastered it quickly, almost as quickly as Itachi.
I remember it clearly. It was my first time performing the jutsu, but it felt completely natural.
My fathers eyes, those were the unusual thing. They lit up more brilliantly than the flames, and he smiled a true smile. He was pleased with me.
He patted me on the back, congratulated me.
I was happy. I still missed my big brother, but it seemed my father was finally starting to treat me like his son.
Of course, by the time Itachi was home he'd learned a new jutsu and was receiving a medal from the Third for his bravery. My small success with the fire jutsu was forgotten.
I was always living in his shadow. And do you know what?
I didn't really mind.
I loved Itachi, and I wanted to see him happy. I know he loved me. Or at least that's what I always thought.
I walked into the house, calling his name. I had gotten the highest mark, and I could imagine him smiling and me and ruffling my hair, like he always did when I had some triumph.
I was an excited, carefree child.
Two minutes later, everything would change.
I slid the door open.
Red. That was the color that greeted me.
It was in his eyes, and spilled across the floor.
He turned to me. For a moment, I wondered if my brother was possessed. The red in his eyes was unnatural.
He saw me staring at him.
He smiled. It didn't quite reach his eyes.
I rushed, tried to hit him. I couldn't believe this was my brother. My brother was the strongest, most honorable young ninja in the village. He wouldn't… he couldn't…
He stopped me. With a single finger. He smirked again.
"Sasuke," he said. I couldn't have answered if I'd wanted to.
That smirk. Those eyes. I had to face it: this was my brother, but he wasn't the boy I idolized.
His face was right up near mine, taunting me. He was vulnerable, and yet I didn't strike. He knew I was paralyzed with fear.
"Fight me some later day," he whispered ominously, "when your eyes are like mine…"
I only half-heard what he was saying. How could he do this? Was this Itachi? My brother… whom I loved…
He turned his back on me and left me with the bloodied corpses of my parents, killed by his hand.
I left the house. I walked through the streets, unseeing, unfeeling; numb.
How could he do this?
The question played over and over in my mind; refusing to stop it's repetition.
How could he do this?
This was Itachi. I loved him with every fiber of my being, he was everything I wanted to be. Strong, honored, talented, intelligent…
I walked, sat on a park bench.
I became angry. I was still sad, but I now I was angry.
I was crying. "They're dead," I said out loud finalizing what I wished was not true.
"I will kill him," I declared quietly. I would. However much it hurt me, I would track down Itachi and kill him. Maybe I didn't mean it. Maybe I was just overly angry at my own point.
I planned, by all means, to keep this vow.
"Sasuke?"
It was her, the girl. The shy one.
I looked at her. I felt irritation, no, beyond irritation at her interference. This was my business, and my business alone.
"Go away," I told her, "You're annoying."
I turned around, and I think she was crying. Stupid girl. She was overly sensitive. It was good not to care about anything, the way I was going to do, so that you don't have to deal with tears.
It was raining that day.
I sat in the academy, in the dreary rain.
I was reading, studying. It was my habit to stay there after school. The other classmates – formerly my friends – would just shrug and go on with their lives, going back to their happy homes.
Some silly girls who somehow had a crush on me sometimes stayed behind, but thankfully not today. I was alone. But at least in the atmosphere of the academy I didn't have to go to an empty home right away.
I saw it through the window. The girl, huddling in the corner.
She was the shy one, the one whom I'd seen on that day. In the past years she'd grown less shy, more annoying. She was just another of my fangirls now, the fangirls that I hated.
But I felt sorry for her nonetheless. I thought of going out there, of seeing what was wrong. I spotted a boy, slowly walking towards her.
I realized something: they were both lonely. Like I was.
He stood in front of her. He said something. She told him something. They stood there for a bit.
I was transfixed, glued to the window at this point. I found myself smiling. For some reason, I found happiness in this: two lonely people had found comfort in one another.
And from then on, I felt like maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have friends. To have bonds.
But you can never break the bonds from your childhood, the people who loved you when you were young.
I betrayed my villages, hurt the people I loved.
I think that, deep in my heart, I still wanted to be just like my older brother.