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 and allowed Kakashi to live as he lacks Uchiha blood and Chakra to resist it completely. If he hadn't, it would've killed Kakashi as Itachi stated, "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 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). This "pure-blood" status, believe it or not, is actually a thing in the manga as pure-blooded Uzumakis have a distinct chakra, of which their red hairs are an indication; they showed far more resilience than Naruto, as well; Kushina utilised her chakra chains to hold Kurama down, created a barrier whilst she was holding it down, and jumped in front of Naruto when the fox attacked—she did all that after she'd not only given birth to Naruto but was also dying from the fox having been ripped out from her (Naruto, on the other hand, immediately went into a state in which his heart had stopped beating); Nagato's use of Rinnegan didn't match Madara's or Sasuke's on any front, either; Danzō's use of KA compared to Itachi's was absolutely abysmal; so on and so forth.

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/Mangekyō if used at its full power), it would kill anyone 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, 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 to learn Nature and Spatial Transformation isn't training). Keep that in mind. Sasuke learnt Nature and Spatial Transformation, the ability to combine them (a feat higher than A-Rank, as Kakashi stated, as it takes years to acquire and hone this ability), and the spiral patterning of chakra (which Jiraiya mentioned during Naruto's Rasengan training) within a week, at the tender age of five (or 6). This shocked Fugaku as it's a prodigious feat for a child so young.

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In a forest made of green blurs for the eyes, Rain cascaded down his cheeks and fell about him in slow motion whilst he flashed through the forest. Autumn was sweet, but relentless; its storms did not stop. 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 (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, he was more than happy to play along.

He expected this to be a day's journey. Suigetsu and Jūgo were sent to Rain ahead of time to make sure Zabuza and Haku were well-hidden, away from Leaf's and Mist's eyes. 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 to the north 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 ringing rain in his ears now . . .

"Sasuke, I forbid it," he spoke, his face throwing away the veil of gentleness, "do you understand? You are not to accept any more 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 hopeless and foolish subordinate 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 softness of morning did not seem to touch the sudden appearance of hardness in his fine features; he sat behind 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 spoke and Sasuke could almost feel the 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 look at the smooth wooden-floor. "Leave it be," he spoke, as coldly as he could, close to him, and the matter was closed that day.

Yesterday was the past: today, a curl of child-like impishness appeared in his smile, a look of innocence in his face that passed into boyish purity for few joyous moments. Time had visited upon his past and robbed him of his childhood. If he could, he would take back what was his from Time and regain the honour his family lost; 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, kissed with mercy by rain; Autumn was a child who liked being loved! This thought had haunted him for years. His brother avoided this subject as though it was an aberration, a plague that would ruin his reputation. He had to force Itachi into the matter—this time—every time.

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 clearing outside the Uchiha village, where the graves of his kin resided.

He was young then, stumbling about helplessly, struggling to stand firm and find strength in his inexperienced legs. He fell down over and over again and scrambled to his feet to reach his brother, with hands held out from his body . . . calling out 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; but was adulthood always so ugly—?

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. In the past, he learnt a lot from his older brother—days came; days went; they did not remain the same. He learnt to walk, to run, to make small Shurikens at such a young age. His brother taught him all!

Quietly, Time melted away into untouchable imageries: blurs of moments, stains of memories. Now, he was a fresh-limbed youth and looking back at that time felt like peering at a mirage, wrapped in fabric of seductions. You could chase and chase it, but could never quite catch it. Childhood's dreams were meant to turn unattainable—mimicries for Sharingans.

Scratch-scratch-scratch—loss was a subtle thing that came back with a searing force when old wounds were picked at in earnest to let loose a steady flow of memories—one by one. The rush of them would flood him, trapping his spirit, trampling his innocence beyond recognition. Then he would lock them back up again, cleaning up his consciousness like a mischievous child who knew how to hide away his faults, knew how to hide away the toys he had broken, leaving no mark of that stinky muck.

Ah, the act of locking it up and letting the beast run—young, wild, and free—O' child, you're born young, wild, and free! An obscene routine, a savage side that he 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 was what Sasuke imagined . . . and a child's dreams were lovely; but there were times when Sasuke was to be disciplined. When he wavered, Itachi harshly steadied him. He was a shadow behind his back. Sometimes, he haunted him, forced him into submission. The terror that thrived in Sasuke from his illusions, perhaps, was eternal.

Twitching, Sasuke's right eye soaked up fear at the sight of a crow sitting up ahead on a branch, thwarting his path. Itachi's name sprang to his lips, and, as though awaiting his name, darkness descended upon him like animals out to maim—black dropped upon his eyes that could see nothing. He threw his hand out to protect himself from the impact, which was inevitable, and crashed against the tree straight 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 stare at the sky blackened by countless of those accursed birds his brother was unnaturally fond of . . . crows! They cawed and circled overhead as if he was fresh and frail and they longed to pick and poke at his body, to take his eye out, to tear open his rosy mouth in sheer delight. He made to draw his weapon when a vibrating, swelling voice startled him.

"Disobedient child. I told you to leave it be," Itachi whispered, and his voice beat against the walls—invisible around him. It was not even a whisper anymore—too potent and heavy. He was already inside Tsukuyomi?

Sasuke did not know how to speak: his tongue was useless as a rusted sword against this foe, whom he loved, and he was too afraid to possess any voice. Wherever he darted his eyes, a mantle of crows greeted him, flying endlessly into the greying horizon robbed of its hues. The droplets hung in midair, pearl-like and eerie in this world Itachi loved to drag him in … for heart-to-heart and cruel punishments.

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

"Finally found your voice? You are insolent," Itachi spoke from beyond the mist. At the sound of his voice, it rippled and ripped open like martyrs 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 deep into the mist—his brother's face clay-toy-like, too white and devoid of the tenderness he cherished. Immediately, he lowered his eyes, standing under the weight of his older brother's deathly gaze.

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

"No, Nii-Sama, I—" he stopped, his voice lost, his tongue unable to chase and catch the words that ran through his mind—one after the other like wayward children lost in Winter's forest.

"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 from him.

Sasuke blinked and he was staring into the deepest crevices, crafted by Shurikens, in his brother's reds, a few inches from his. The burning 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 leave you in here to teach you a valuable lesson. You do not respond well to my love," Itachi spoke again, and his breath, colder than the breath Autumn could conjure, fanned out on Sasuke's forehead.

Sasuke's throat was burning and his heart thundering—O', what a shame that he was caught again, without another gain! The sounds resonated through his every vein, every tendril, every part of his mortal coil as though it was a sacred space made to resonate with his brother's sinister hymns. This was not the first time he would be punished this way. His brother had a cruel streak, but Sasuke's unruly child, his spirit, sought that rebellious nature and set it free—free! O', there was such love in freedom—such beauty in pleasures!

He was accustomed to this false sense of freedom, this humiliation at his brother's hands. He acted out: he wanted to be the wild one. The thrill of testing his brother and his own limits had made a devil of him. Deep down, he knew this was coming—deep down, his devil 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 amidst the stickiness of guts, feet sloshing through blood, had robbed that boy child of his pleasures forever. He was lost—gone. Its last whimpers vanished, lost to the night that would never return. Time was a thief! Itachi's illusions scratched opened the long-forgotten wounds, and his adult spirit crushed into a child's spirit that crumbled before his brother's own brand of discipline.

Sasuke legs buckled under his weight, and he fell down onto his knees. Red bubbled up to cover his eyes like little fingers 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. Like children, his Sharingans were as instinctively rebellious as he.

With his child unleashed upon his mind, he opened his mouth and cried out hoarsely, "Nii-San, I-I'm sorry—" He bent his head down, his nose touching the dirt, red as his moon-touched village's streets, his hands trembling at his sides—a mere child lost and helpless in illusions.

No sound came from Itachi. He stood over him; and, very slightly, his right hand trembled once in the grasp of emotion—to reach out and touch Sasuke whimpering at his feet, begging him to stop this illusion. He clenched it tight. 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 Sasuke tread that far from his shadow.

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

Sasuke's body bent and broke in this illusion that was joyless, heartless, colourless. "Nii-Nii—I can't—I can't see . . . " his voice wobbled in terror when he brought his shaking hands up to his face, his countenance a bizarre mask of red and white. He could see nothing other than an endless devouring dark. "I can't s-see!" he said, his voice too rough, and blinked rapidly to look around as if searching for light in the night that had fallen over his world. His lips, ashen like his countenance, 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, a child regaining his balance, "—c-can't see. Nii-S-San, I can't . . . " His voice was catching in his throat. He clenched his teeth, weeping—a lost, pitiful child. Red flowed unopposed down his neck now, a network of eerie veins appearing on his white skin.

Itachi turned his head away. Whilst in the possession of the blackest heart, he could not bear to look upon his brother's visage, ruined by blood, tears, and fear, any longer. He stood quietly in the rain, viciously aloof . . . not moving and letting this terror consume his brother who tried to wander off deep into the forest in search of his eyes' light: a somnambulist trapped in his own little world.

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

The rain stopped. Itachi looked down to see a few raindrops tracing 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 consequence 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 Sasuke's neck and breast. The red was gone, leaving behind the redness of skin where he had used the cotton cloth. In spite of Itachi's gentleness, the harshness of the cloth left a reminder of his secrets.

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

Sasuke hissed and felt a sudden assault of biting cold on his hot skin. He was out of strength—a helpless youth, sleeping under the covers, unaware of being wiped clean like a child and cleansed at this point in adulthood of the venial sins he committed (in defiance), because of the 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 from the side of Sasuke's face. "What happened to him? 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 disapproving gaze pulled them back to his face. A little absentmindedly, he nodded and extended 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 Squad," he began and, out of a sense of duty and obedience, clasped his hands behind his back, "and without Sasuke-Sama's knowledge."

"Twenty-five S-Rank missions . . . " Itachi spoke with careful softness and ran his lazy eyes down the scroll. " . . . so many and without Sasuke's approval . . . why?" he asked himself, deep in thought. Curiosity subtly changed his countenance. He looked at the old lantern that glowed with an eerie red light. A pink moth fluttered around it, eager to meet its death upon the flame.

"I told Serizawa-San to eliminate the chakra from the Hokage's office like 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 beside him. His sword was sticking out from under it, catching the red glow from 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, with near-careless softness in his voice, as if making sure it would not rouse Sasuke. Yuu bowed and left. He brushed Sasuke's hair aside and pressed his thumb into Sasuke's cheek, with love going into his fingers. Yes, he was just 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, do you not?"

He bent his head down till his lashes touched Sasuke's, his Mangekyō beating back to life, and gripped Sasuke's senses in his sleep, his hair cascading around his brother's face like a curtain, hiding it away from every eye—precious child! A red tear sliding down Sasuke's cheek slowed down, obstructed by Time's sluggishness. In dreams, his voice lost its cold nature and changed into a warm one 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. Sasuke let out a small laugh and rested his head against Itachi's breast and heard his heart's falseness and looked out towards the vast field of purple lilies set aquiver by the pleasant autumn wind.

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

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EN - Canon-Manga Info: Sasuke, because of the aforementioned canon-factors, easily broke Tsukuyomi when he fought Itachi, as mentioned in the Data-book 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 as Sasuke was standing 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 Rikudō characters.

However, I have reduced Sasuke's ability to fight Tsukuyomi quite drastically; which means that Itachi's Genjutsu ability has 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 in my narrative . . . 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.