Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

CHAPTER 25

The headaches were getting worse. The pain always started at the back of his neck and crawled up into his brain to seemingly settle behind his eyes. The medic nin had given him a clean bill of health after his collapse on the day of the Invasion, but nonetheless the throbbing discomfort had been his near constant companion.

Sasuke massaged two fingers over his temples as he squinted in the half light of the dusty storage room. The meticulously arranged documents dating back to nearly the founding of Konoha filled the tall shelves of the forgotten corner of the massive Uchiha compound. Over the last two weeks since his teammates had left in search of the future Godaime, he had been studying scroll after scroll of clan records, and between the endless lines of script and the boring documentation of every damn chicken, child, and chore the Uchiha ever had, his inner monologue was starting to sound an awful lot like Shikamaru, this is such a drag.

Kakashi had been helping him comb through the stacks of records, Sasuke had never realized how much time his Sensei had spent within the walls of the Uchiha District in his younger days. Something to do with a former teammate of his. The newest Clan Head glanced over to the area that held the shinobi records, wondering if there was some info on his mysteriously private sensei in them. Maybe I could figure out where the hell he got that Sharingan from.

Taking his best guess at a time frame, Sasuke grabbed a few scrolls and activated his Sharingan, trying to skim them quickly so he could go back to his real studies. His gut clenched as he read the many names, his Clan had really been a force to be reckoned with once upon a time. Nearly every genin team had at least one Uchiha, and they had composed the entirety of the Police Force down to a man. It was so overwhelming to see what his family once had been, and know that he could never hope to bring them that same level of prestige again.

He paused over the name of his father, taking in the dates of his promotions, and the honorable titles and recognitions bestowed upon him by the village. Uchiha Fugaku had grown up in a violent era, even for a shinobi, and his nomination to chunin and jonin were both the result of field promotions made for valiant bravery in battle. Otousan had already tested himself against a real enemy before I even graduated from the Academy. Sasuke's neck tingled and he rubbed absently at the curse mark there as he pictured the harsh features of his father and the way he had been completely unimpressed by his younger son's abilities. Otousan never looked at That Man in such a way. It wasn't fair how hard I tried and still he never saw me. And That Man never wanted to be seen, and yet was always the center of attention.

The ever-growing weight of guilt and anger that Sasuke carried like a ball and chain made his shoulders droop slightly as his thoughts strayed to That Man. Spending all this time in the archives, digging through his Clan's history, it was hard to ignore the ache of his soul as he felt the ghosts of his ancestors following him down the hallways, crying out to him to avenge their lives. I am the Head of a Clan without a body. What good is a decapitated leader? All I can do is spout hollow words and plan for a revenge that seems to get further and further away as the days go by. Sasuke had spent more time reading than training, and while he was locked up indoors creating a kink in his neck That Man was out there walking free, careless of the blood on his hands. Sasuke's Sharingan pulsed with his annoyance, and the ache in his neck intensified. Too much damn reading.

Standing abruptly he turned to storm away to the training grounds and burn off some anger when his fading bloodline caught sight of something. A dusty box had been dismissively shoved against the wall where Sasuke had moved a pile of scrolls looking for other jutsu documents. With his Sharingan activated, a script that he was certain was not previously there appeared before him. Otousan?

Kneeling down, he slid the lid off the nondescript container, finding nothing but the memos and ledgers from his father's time as Clan Head. The handwriting was bold, the pressure exerted with each brush stroke as firm as the discipline of the one who wielded it. Even if he hadn't already known his father to be a strict, economical man it would be obvious to anyone who read his succinct words and plain language. Training forgotten, Sasuke rolled the paper across his palms, feeling a mixture of smug pride and inadequacy to be the successor of his father's role, yet another Uchiha in a long line of stoic leaders to represent…to represent what?

The Clan? What Clan, they are all dead, or will be as soon as I can make it so.

The glory of the Uchiha name? Soiled forever by That Man.

The talent of our superior doujutsu, feared across the nations? My sensei's stolen eye is stronger than mine.

The power of an elite shinobi? I am nowhere near as powerful as I want to be, as I need to be.

Frustrated anger throbbed through his heart, centering on the pulse in his neck, and he growled as he once more massaged the painful spot. Forget this pointlessness, a voice hissed in the back of his head, you are nothing but a puppet tied to Konoha's strings. A paper crown given to a false prince in hopes of gaining your loyalty, while they stifle your freedom. Real power cannot come at the head of that council table, but at the end of a sword. What would they say, what would they really think of The Last Uchiha if he were to test his own abilities?

Sasuke stood abruptly, shoving the box of documents into the wall with enough force to crack its aged seams. Useless, all the words were useless to him, worthless to his real cause, a distraction from his one true goal. His mind was hazing over with red and he kicked the dilapidated container, only to freeze as the floorboards beneath the box, untouched by the dust of time, were exposed after years of obscurity. Sasuke's crimson eyes blinked in shock at the revealed seal, visible only to those with his near extinct kekkei genkai. What the?

Careful inspection showed it to be a blood seal with a formula similar to what Sasuke had only seen on a few top secret scrolls that were in the Hokage Library, where Kakashi had taken him a few days ago in search of some other Clan related documents. Adrenaline laced through his body and his heart rate sped up, would his clan really hide something so important that it was sealed in blood under a box of random nothingness? Hidden in plain sight, where no one would ever expect it, in a place only a Clan Head ever cared to visit? The pull on Sasuke's brain was nearly tangible, the voice practically gleeful in its coaxing, the desire to discover the secrets that were for his eyes only was painfully potent. Open it Sasuke, it is your destiny. A drop of blood was all it took, the seal's release was instantaneous, and Sasuke didn't hesitate to pull away the boards and hastily descend below the earth.

The darkness enveloped him like the embrace of a loved one welcoming him home. His breath hitched as the moist air of the earthen room filled his lungs, making the lightheaded feeling of his brain sharpen into an anticipation so keen he could taste it. It was practically instinctual to spot the torch along the wall and light it with a small katon jutsu, this place was made for him, by his own people. The space was not large, it was obviously meant for storage and not for dwelling, the presence of a large chest and smaller box solidifying this observation.

Another bite of his thumb and a smear of his blood sent the sealed container glowing as it popped open. Otousan, did you know I would be the one standing here someday? Was this meant for me, or for That Man? Can you see me? Sasuke's thoughts tumbled over one another as chaotically as his emotions when he lifted the lid and gazed upon the precious objects that had been so carefully hidden away.

Battle armor; blood red as the Sharingan, its numerous plates polished to a gleaming shine. The style was obviously meant to reckon back to the glory days of the warring states era, when the Uchiha and the Senju reigned as the undisputed powerhouses of the shinobi world. The full regalia was that of a high ranking officer, a Clan Head, with the uchiwa fan emblazoned on the back, leaving no doubt as to whom this masterpiece of warfare was meant to be worn by. Sasuke ran his finger over the textured metal, the smooth plates punctuated by small sharp spikes along the shoulders and all the numerous joints meticulously tied with well oiled leather. Just to brush against this warrior would cause injury, and the elaborate design would not hinder his swift movements. It was magnificent. This is not just a showpiece, it is battle ready even all these years later. What was his intention for such a thing?

Next to the armor the handle of a wrapped chokuto caught Sasuke's eye, and his heart leapt into his throat as he reached out for the weapon. I didn't know Otousan used a sword, he thought as he deftly untied the leather strap, revealing the unearthly metallic reflection of a breathtaking blade. His fingers trembled as he grasped the hilt, the end was a large oval of the uchiwa fan, the leather wrapped handle provided the perfect amount of friction against his skin, the bronze guard was carved with the kanji for "Fire, Vision, Power" the trifecta of what it meant to be Uchiha. Laying it across his fingertip, Sasuke smirked at the perfect balance of its weight, this weapon was not only beautiful, but it was perfectly made, perfectly deadly. With a snap of his wrist he tossed it into the air, snatching it neatly and taking a few swift practice slashes. The whirr of the air sliding around the shaft made his skin crawl with goosebumps, this metal, could it be…

A pulse of chakra and the entirety of the cavern was crackling with twisting bolts of electricity, and the growing feeling of power in Sasuke's soul burst forth from him. He started to chuckle, then out right laugh as he sharpened his control and the chakra coating the blade transformed it into a massive executioner of godlike potential. This is a weapon worthy of a Clan Head, worthy of an Uchiha. With this I could defeat That Man. Cutting off his chakra, he slid his fingers along the metal's cool surface as he smoothly returned it to its sheath. Painted on the side of it with a vibrant crimson ink that matched Sasuke's pulsing eyes was the sword's name: Fukushu-sha. Avenger.

He gaped at the writing, how was this possible? How did they know that he would find this, that he would need these things to justify them, that his closely guarded inner dream would have a name, and that name be given to the tool of his destiny? This is my destiny, this is my fate. I have forgotten myself, I've gotten soft in this village. I need to increase my power, increase my jutsu, increase my sight, I need to find That Man…

Returning to the chest Sasuke carefully strapped the sword to his waist before kneeling in front of the smaller box that had his father's name along the top. Inside were several scrolls that contained notes of meetings never meant to be known beyond the boundaries of these earthen walls. A journal of sorts that held the righteous indignation of a Clan Head that saw his people being slowly but surely pushed to the edges of society, who's every political aspiration was cut off from his reach, who refused to accept the second rate respect being given to a founding clan of Konoha, who would never allow the insults to be ignored, who would seek justice, seek strength, seek the power that was their birthright, their destiny, the undeniable authority of the Sharingan would never be dismissed again!

As he lost himself in the rage of his father's manifesto, Sasuke never noticed the spreading black pattern that seeped from the curse mark on his neck.


"Now that he's a Clan Head, how long do you think it will be before he takes a wife?"

"He'll be sixteen by the end of the year, a bit young perhaps, but he needs to get on it if he's going to restore his Clan!"

The giggling gossip of the two women faded as they walked past the small bench where Uchiha Itachi was enjoying his dango alongside his partner. The rogue nin's mouth froze mid chew as his intelligent mind quickly connected the dots. So he did make chunin, despite the Invasion, and now he is officially Clan Head. Good, that should put him well out of Danzo's reach.

Kisame shifted next to him on the wooden bench, masking the fidgeting of his sword with his own restless movements. "Itachi, Samehada is getting bored, perhaps it is time we resumed our search for the target?"

"Hn." If Itachi had been a more expressive man he would have frowned. His mind was rapidly analyzing this change of status for his little brother, and one particular aspect was especially worrisome. As Clan Head, he will be able to release all the seals and gain access to every secret the Uchiha ever guarded, including Otousan's plans. I have to stop him before he learns the truth…

Sliding soundlessly to his feet, Itachi focused his gaze upon the distant rooftops of the massive Uchiha District, his former home, and braced to face his ghosts once more. At night they haunted his dreams, and today it would seem he would have to walk amongst them.

"Kisame, I must see to something. Please continue, and I will rejoin you when I have finished." None of the milling crowd noticed the small flock of crows that suddenly took to the sky and flew for the forgotten district. Kisame shrugged to himself as he shouldered his massive sword. Itachi was a private man who always followed through on his word, so what business was it of his that the guy had a stop to make in his former hometown? Ehehe, I hope she's pretty. He smirked as he tossed a few coins onto the table and headed down towards the walkways by the riverbanks to scan for the one particular chakra signature that Leader-sama was so keen to capture.


Slipping past the specters of his family that reached out of the shadows to lay a hand on their executioner, Itachi forced his sharp mind to ignore the weight of his sins as his Sharingan traced the familiar chakra signature of his Otouto. No, please tell me I'm not too late!

Charging down the underground tunnel that he had known existed but never actually found, he didn't pause to take in the sight of the armor and the open chest before pushing through a hidden doorway to another narrower corridor that he estimated would place him underneath the shrine. The sight that greeted him seized his scarred heart with fear.

Sasuke was standing before a large stone, engraved by the hand of an ancient being with stories that most believed to be nothing more than legend and lore. Itachi's three tomoed Sharingan whirled to the Mangekyo practically against his will in the presence of such a sacred relic, and he recoiled at the messages inscribed upon it.

Domination. Divinity. Destiny.

The sentiments of the inscription were clear, and corrupted. These were the stories that created the spark that had nearly ignited a war meant to divide a nation, and conquer the world, had Itachi not sacrificed his soul to stop the Uchiha, to stop his father, from following such a twisted doctrine. A fate he had risked everything to save his little brother from. A fate he wanted to take to his grave.

"Sasuke, what are you doing here?" Itachi's tone was cold, his words clipped as he tried to gauge his brother's reaction to whatever he may have learned.

"Fulfilling my destiny. And yet, I still feel that there is some detail missing." Sasuke didn't turn, but his hand played with the hilt of a sword Itachi had never seen before, a weapon of such obvious value that he knew it was more than just a simple blade for a chunin. "Who was it, brother?" Sasuke asked in a flat voice.

Itachi didn't answer, his gut was telling him what his heart refused to believe, something was very wrong. Sasuke's chakra felt off, still uniquely his, but twisted somehow. As his little brother turned to show his profile, the answer became painfully obvious as to why.

Black markings marred the maturing face of his innocent baby brother. The eyes that had once gazed up at him with unadulterated admiration burned with hatred. Good, hate me Sasuke. Focus on me. Forget the rest, kill me and end both of our suffering, so you can move on in honor with the Uchiha name.

"Who was it who told you to slaughter our family?" The sword hissed as Sasuke pulled it from its sheath. "Was it the council? The Sandaime? The Hyuga? The Daimyo?" He turned to face That Man, the walking embodiment of genocide to the entire Uchiha people, his personal nightmare, his greatest heartbreak, his brother.

"You insult me if you think I would need their permission to accomplish my own purposes," Itachi allowed a modicum of anger to threaten his words, hoping to make Sasuke doubt his assumptions and believe that his brother had acted alone.

The Clan Head chuckled mirthlessly as he pushed chakra into his eyes, activating his blood red glare to reveal that a third tomoe had been added to his bloodline. "You told me that only with enough hatred would I ever be able to overpower you," Sasuke grinned and flooded his blade with electricity, and Itachi gritted his teeth. "Well Niisan," he sneered as he spit out the old endearment, "I have plenty of hatred, years of hatred, and now you shall see what I can accomplish."

As black markings covered Sasuke's entire body he snarled and drilled Itachi with enough killing intent to bring a jonin to his knees. Itachi frowned, the only outward showing of his internal dismay at this hiccup in his well laid plans. He hadn't wanted to use this jutsu on his brother again, especially not to its full potential, but it would seem he had no choice. Sasuke's mind was poisoned with the same power hungry greed of their father and the Clan, and Itachi could not allow this to perpetuate. If only Sasuke had been a more unbiased person, he might have been able to see their father for what he really was: a stubborn man who craved recognition to feed his pride, a heartless conscience that refused to acknowledge the value of another's existence as equal to his own. But Sasuke had always been desperate for attention himself, inheriting their father's need for self affirmation in order to feel loved, to feel accepted. Itachi had hoped that he and Sasuke's teammates had been able to engrain in his little brother's fragile mind that there was another way to feel fulfillment through the bonds created with close friends and the support of the village. But alas, the lesson seemed to have been easily forgotten in the blinding rage that now gripped Sasuke's body and soul.

"Foolish little brother," Itachi murmured as his Mangekyo focused on Sasuke's delirious fury. "I will remind you what true hatred really is."


Kakashi had a hunch. Something was going to happen. He had no idea why he got these hunches, just call it a sixth sense. Perhaps he had picked it up from spending so much time with his Ninken? He had checked the mission rosters, poked about the Hokage tower, loitered near the front gate, perused the training grounds, even 'happened' to meander by the Hyuga compound. But everything seemed to be as it should, nothing was amiss, and yet this feeling…

Deciding to show up early for his meeting with his little Clan Head in training and enjoy the look of shock on his face when his sensei wasn't an hour late, Kakashi took to the rooftops heading in the direction of the Uchiha District. Mid-air over an apartment building that nagging feeling in his gut suddenly exploded into a full on red alert and a split second later he felt the undeniable chakra of not one, but two powerful Uchiha. A shinobi never forgot a partner, and Kakashi would know that unique chakra anywhere. Shit, why is he here!?

Within seconds Kakashi was navigating his way through the narrow streets of the Uchiha District, his familiarity making his path efficient as he flipped up his headband and his Sharingan flared to life. The blinding chakra trail was impossible to miss, he hasn't been here long. Hopefully I'm not too late.

The trail disappeared in a winding pattern into the main section of the council buildings, and Kakashi paused atop an electric pole, tracing the weaving trail to pinpoint the end and skip the maze of hallways. The Shrine? Why would they fight there, in such a sacred place? And why don't I hear the sounds of a battle?

He darted into the shrine, one of the few places he had never been allowed to visit with Obito, and immediately noted the hollow sound of his steps and the heavy oppression that filled the air when powerful shinobi poured chakra into a massive jutsu. At this point Kakashi didn't care if he was heard, he just wanted to interfere, to save his student. A Chidori effortlessly crackled at his fingertips as he smashed through the tatami mats and braced for the anticipated fall into the chamber underneath the floor. Even with the cloud of dust his Sharingan easily pinpointed the chakra of the two brothers. Sasuke's was frozen, as bright as ever, but seemingly in a state of stasis, and Kakashi rushed to his side.

"Its called Tsukuyomi," Itachi's flat voice echoed in the earthen chamber. The arrogant bastard wasn't even slightly worried about Kakashi's presence.

"You cannot take him away," the sensei snarled, turning to face his former partner and placing himself in front of Sasuke's catatonic body. Itachi ignored the command, wiping away the blood that trailed down his right cheek as if nothing was wrong.

"I don't want him, it is another I have come for, the jinchuriki."

Kakashi barely hid his surprise and alarm at this bit of news, and the ease with which Itachi had offered up the information. "He isn't in the village, is that why you have decided to entertain yourself by further torturing your only kin?" He was intentionally baiting the older brother, though he knew it would most likely be useless, even as a young shinobi the man had ice running through his veins.

"I see," the rogue nin shifted as if to leave, the slightest of smirks crossing his lips. "Sasuke will recover when the jutsu has run its course, do not fret Senpai."

"Do not mock my care for those under my protection! Once upon a time you enjoyed the same privilege before you abandoned the village." Kakashi hissed as he surreptitiously attempted to sink earth clones into the dirt around Itachi and surround him. But even with his doujutsu dripping blood Itachi spotted the maneuver, immediately transporting to the opposite side of the room.

"Tsk tsk, Senpai," he murmured as he raised two fingers to point accusingly at Kakashi's scowling face. "Have you forgotten that Shunshin no Shisui was my cousin? It seems you need to be reminded of what really happened in the past…"

Despite having carefully avoided direct eye contact with the Mangekyo wielding Uchiha, Kakashi suddenly felt his body lose all feeling as the world went red.

Once he was certain that both shinobi were securely trapped in his genjutsu, Itachi allowed himself to cough freely after stifling the urge for so long. He gasped for air but was relieved that there was no blood on his fingers…this time.

He walked over to his brother, taking the time to study his features at a closer range, he hadn't been able to appreciate this face since the boy was just a child. He was tall, nearly as tall as himself, and his face had lost that cherubic roundness. He favors Okaasan in his features, he thought, noting the long straight nose and fine dark brows. But his mouth, that firm set of his jaw, definitely Otousan there. Itachi's heart sank as he once again prayed to Kami that if there was any mercy left for a transgressor such as himself, his jutsu would be enough to redirect his brother's path onto the straight and narrow.

His gaze fell to where the tall Uchiha style collar slouched to reveal the black curse mark into which the ugly black markings had retreated when he had subdued Sasuke's chakra with the Tsukuyomi, and Itachi immediately recognized the traces of foreign chakra it leaked. A shinobi never forgets a partner, even if it was Akatsuki.

After sealing off the tunnel, he emerged into the misleadingly cheerful sunshine, pondering what The Snake would want with his brother. Nothing good. I will have to investigate this further.

"Yo, Itachi!" Kisame's loud voice accompanied the thud of his landing as he arrived into the small courtyard outside the Uchiha Shrine. "The jinchuriki is out of the village with that Toad Sage, and the ANBU have been alerted to us. Time to leave."

The distant cries of challenge for the sake of honor and youth echoed over the empty buildings.

"Like NOW, Itachi," Kisame growled as the stoic Uchiha registered the identity of the owner of such 'youthful' sentiments. "They got some super freak in green spandex headed our way. Between his speed and his outfit I can hardly look at the guy, and Samehada wants nothing to do with him. Lets GO!"

By the time the ANBU infiltrated the walkways of the formerly forbidden area, there was nothing left but two frozen Leaf Shinobi hidden in an empty chamber beneath the shrine. The pair were quickly transported to the hospital but nothing more was found of the invaders.


Kabuto slid the door of the cell shut, tucking the stethoscope back into his pocket as he headed for his office with the vial of blood he had retrieved from his reluctant patient. Hana-san was rather dense for a Hyuga, a pretty face without much behind it. So far, since the day of the Invasion, he had been able to convince her that she was in an elaborate wing of the hospital under heavy security due to the imminent threat the Leaf faced. It was all for the sake of her child, the potential heir that Hiashi had always dreamed of obtaining. There were threads of truth woven into the fabric of his charade, and the improbable scenario had been accepted by the young woman in its entirety. Hopefully the child will inherit Hiashi's brains, he snickered to himself as he entered the lab and dropped off the blood sample.

"Karin, process this specimen from the Hyuga woman. I want to ensure she and the child are kept in pristine health. We cannot afford any risk to this precious treasure." The red headed woman grunted her response, not bothering to lift her head from her stack of paperwork, withholding her sigh until Kabuto had exited the room. Kami I hate this place, she groaned internally as she reached for the vial of blood. She hated the fact that the 'precious treasure' which the twisted medic referred to, was not the life that grew within the woman's womb, but the kekkei genkai that the monster and his Master sought to possess. In the years since she had willingly joined Orochimaru as a child, lost and alone in the world, she had come to understand that the motives which drove his need to 'rescue' the orphans in possession of unusual talents were not rooted in the sympathetic nature he had falsely portrayed.

Her hands went through the motions of inserting the specimen into the complex architecture of the lab equipment with a robotic lack of enthusiasm. Trying not to think of the young mother as she methodically processed the data, Karin couldn't help but feel sick with pity for the future child. She knew there was little chance of the woman being able to keep her baby, and the thought broke Karin's heart. The loss of her own mother was one of the lowest points in her life. When her last protector had been taken away, leaving her vulnerable to the machinations of the shinobi world. All because of their kekkei genkai.

And here she was, doing the same thing.

She didn't hear the beeping of the machine as it completed its analysis, her thoughts were lost in her own self pity, wishing she was strong enough to leave, to escape, to free the ones also enslaved here. If only there was someone else who shared her sympathy, who had even a modicum of human decency…

"Karin, are those reports done yet?" Kabuto's voice crackled over an intercom by her head.

"Almost, hold on to your damn panties!" She snarled at the speaker, which merely clicked dead in response. It was only by putting such intense effort into her anger that she was able to endure the sadness. So she had long ago embraced her fire, surrounding her fragile inner child with a protective ring of spite, lest her soul crumple into paralyzing grief. With the things she saw, the work she was forced to do, the feelings she had to bury…the anger was so much safer than the guilt.

The metal chair scraped on the white tiled floor as she snatched up the papers from the machine and adjusted her glasses, donning the mask of a heartless survivor to hide the broken remnant that was her truth. Karin sometimes wondered why she even bothered to get out of bed everyday. Her existence only served to increase the suffering of others, a blasphemy upon her bloodline gift as a healer.

But as she passed the cell that served as the 'hospital room' of Hyuga Hana, and involuntarily glanced through the small window, something in her heart told her to persevere. Perhaps, if she stayed vigilant, there was a chance that she could finally make a difference, even if just a small one. Maybe all hope was not lost, and better days could possibly lay ahead?

Yet who was she kidding? It's not like the savior of the world was gonna waltz through those doors one day and slaughter those bastards and redeem them all.

But a girl could dream.