Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, there would be more death and angst... which might really be saying something in light of Shippuden. I don't own Naruto.

Here's the next chapter. I finally broke down and gave chapter titles out. It's a little shorter than the others, but I liked ending it here. A note about the Uchiha brothers' relationship: it's not really unusual for an only child to show resentment towards a younger brother or sister suddenly appearing, especially if the parents don't do a lot to prepare the child for the baby. So Itachi's feelings for Sasuke aren't really unexpected, and his parents probably would have noticed (at least to a point), and would have expected it to be a phase he would grow out of.

Karyuu Endan (Fire Dragon Flame Projectile) is similar to the Goukakyuu no Jutsu (Great Fireball Technique), only it's more of a jet of fire than a ball... The Sandaime used this once.

Hope you like it...

Meetings of Fate 3

Lord of Demons

R. Winters

It was hardly worth his time.

The ten-year-old appeared behind his opponent in a heartbeat, delivering another solid hit to the older boy's back.

He should have been promoted last year—or even the year before that.

Itachi was already there to meet him when he neared the bottom of his arc, putting a whole spread of kunai and shuriken into the other boy's body. The fourteen-year-old disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by a badly abused log.

The Uchiha's eyes had seen, though, even before he delivered the attack, and he had already turned to face the boy's hiding spot near the edges of the arena.

It was a pointless waste of his chakra and energy.

Katon: Karyuu Endan!

He saw the widening of the teen's eyes as a stream of fire shot towards him from both sides—clones the other boy probably hadn't even remembered existed carrying out the attack while he had his attention focused on the real Itachi.

The boy's scream cut through the arena and Itachi watched coldly, reveling in the power he held over the older boy, in the fear and pain he could inflict in someone who had thought themselves his better only ten minutes earlier.

The stream of fire ended as his clones puffed out of existence, having expended the chakra he'd given them. The scream tapered out and the boy collapsed forward onto the ground, his clothing still smoldering.

Itachi's enjoyment of the situation abruptly left him as he realized he'd hit his mark a little too well.

It had been a complete waste.

The other Genin was hardly worth the time of day, let alone Itachi's concentrated attention for the six minutes and thirty-eight seconds he'd given it. To be backed into a trap like that so easily—it was pathetic, a rookie mistake at best.

He watched coldly, hardly listening as the Chuunin proctor announced his name as the winner. A handful of medical ninja hustled onto the field to offer assistance to the pathetic lump of flesh.

He hadn't even broken a sweat.

An unexplainable desire to completely crush the other boy—kill him and destroy him until there was nothing left—suddenly overcame the ten-year-old, for the bare reason that he could and it would be so easy. He wondered if this was how Madara felt as he ripped apart his team in a matter of seconds.

Itachi forced himself to turn away. It would be too easy. More pointless energy wasted on something that didn't warrant his time.

He walked calmly from the arena, disillusioned. Wasn't there anyone here that could challenge him? Someone he could feel good about destroying?

It had been two years since he'd lost his first Genin team—two years since he'd met that man.

He'd done everything he could in the intervening time to gain power, and he'd risen from his old level by leaps and bounds.

The C-ranked missions the Hokage often assigned his team seemed dull and pointless and Itachi thought he might have forgotten how to fear for his life. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything other than disgust and frustration.

He needed a challenge.

"Aniki!"

It took the ten-year-old a second to realize he'd stopped walking at some point, standing alone in the middle of a hallway somewhere inside the arena seating. Sasuke was running towards him, a wide smile on his face, with his parents following more sedately some distance off.

The five-year-old stopped in front of him, looking up with eager, dancing black eyes, "You were awesome out there, aniki!"

"… I was simply above his level," Itachi muttered in reply.

The little boy grinned, "You're so cool, aniki!"

"Sasuke, stop pestering your brother," the boy's mother chastised gently, smiling at her two sons, "Itachi must be tired from his match, and it's time for you to go home, remember?"

Sasuke turned pouting eyes towards the woman, "Aw—kaasan, do I have to?"

"That was the deal," she confirmed, "You got to see your brother, so now it's time to go." She herded the whining boy in front of her and shot a smile back at her older son, "You did well out there, Itachi, I'm sure you'll be a Chuunin soon."

Itachi nodded his thanks at the compliment, watching them go for a moment before turning his eyes to his father, who was standing silently in front of him, still.

"… As expected, you did well this year," the man stated at last, "The Hokage is a fool if he doesn't promote you."

"Arigatou, otousan," Itachi murmured, bowing slightly in acknowledgement. A tiny smile flitted onto his lips—they were finally beginning to see his worth. His father was beginning to realize what a waste Sasuke was, after all.

The irony of it was that Sasuke wasn't really a waste at all, but a precious commodity—the thing he needed to reach his full potential. He realized it now, even though nobody else did.

He was startled out of his thoughts as a hand suddenly came down on his shoulder. Black eyes snapped back to his father, who was smiling grimly as he clapped the boy on the shoulder, turning away a second later.

"We'll see you back at the house," he stated, walking away as his son was still coming to terms with the unexpected display of affection.

At least a minute passed before Itachi forced himself to move again, his thoughts, unexpectedly, revolving around his younger brother and the greatness he would achieve.

The approval of his father was a great accomplishment, but the man would be so much more pleased when he showed him how he surpassed even the great names of the past. It was something Itachi knew he would and could do, with his younger brother's help.

He would become greater than his father, far greater than his current sensei, greater even than the Hokage. He would surpass even Madara, in the end, and he'd kill the man who had made him fear for the first and last time as a child.

"You were really ready to kill him. I could see the blood lust in your eyes."

Itachi allowed himself to take one more echoing step before he ground to a halt, arms relaxed by his sides and gaze not even flicking back to the man.

Speak of the devil and he shall come.

The thrill of fear he'd felt as a child upon hearing that voice was sluggish now. He was rising in ability quickly, it wouldn't be long until even Madara fell prostrate before him.

A slight smile pricked at the boy's lips—he'd teach even this "god" to fear one day. Until then he'd play the worthless servant, fulfilling his expected role with respect and humility.

"He was below me," he said simply. Slowly, he turned, easily locating the smirking man leaning against the wall some distance behind him. "Have I grown, Madara-sama?"

The man ignored his question, although his smile twitched a fraction wider, "Why did you let him live, Itachi?" He asked, instead.

The ten-year-old shrugged, "He didn't deserve to die."

Madara raised an eyebrow, "The weak always deserve death, Itachi. Mercy isn't a trait that suits those meant to be powerful."

Itachi wondered if the man was really so daft as to believe that. If he was, it would be easier to overcome him than he thought.

"You misunderstand, Madara-sama," he murmured, careful to keep his tone respectful in the light of his correction. The man's eyes hardened slightly but he continued, "He was below my notice—it would have been worthless for me to kill someone as weak as him. Let the weak kill the weak and the strong focus on the strong."

The man was silent for long enough that Itachi began to question his own logic. Then Madara laughed. Itachi was disturbed to find that the sound was almost pleasant—years before he recalled the same sound causing him to cringe.

"You have grown, boy," the man finally allowed, pushing off the wall and strolling towards him slowly, "You've become arrogant."

Madara stopped when they were barely a pace apart. Itachi was forced to crane his neck back to look at his face, annoyed that he was still so much shorter than the man.

Then he reached out, and Itachi saw a flash of light glistening off metal just before the hand clapped onto his shoulder, fingers gripping tightly in a cruel mockery of the affectionate gesture his father had given him only minutes earlier. Madara's grip meant nothing of the kind, however, and Itachi's eyes widened in alarm as he felt his chakra draining out of him.

He grabbed the man's wrist with his opposite hand, feeling chakra drain through that palm as well the moment it made contact, and tried to force it away, but Madara's hand remained solidly gripped as though it were made of stone rather than malleable flesh.

Itachi pulled his hand away again with some effort and reached for his kunai.

"Stop," the single syllable rang with power and made the boy pause and glance up, finding himself meeting the man's red eyes again.

Those cog-like eyes stared down at him indifferently and Itachi stared back, unable to help himself. The ten-year-old found himself growing light-headed—unsure whether it was from chakra exhaustion or hypnosis—and wondered idly what sort of eyes he would develop when the time came.

The man pulled away and, as though the spell were broken, Itachi stumbled weakly, mentally cursing himself for slipping up again. He should know by now that this man would exploit his every weakness.

"Kill your next opponent," Madara ordered, turning away. "And meet me at midnight, in the training grounds," he added as he began to walk.

"I know about your eyes," Itachi blurted abruptly, one hand on the wall to help him balance on his rubbery legs.

Madara stilled but didn't turn around.

"The Mangekyou Sharingan," Itachi supplied, feeling a thrill of pleasure at having surprised his "god." He'd done his share of studying over the last couple of years, and he'd learned a thing or two along the way.

The man showed no other reaction.

Itachi plowed on, "It was first developed by Uchiha Madara," he added, "Who became the leader of our clan until the Shodai Hokage banished him from the village. For a god, you were defeated easily."

A dry laugh issued from the man, "If I am a god, than the Shodai was the lord of demons. Don't think too highly of yourself, boy—you might be able to reach my level, though I doubt it, but someone like the Shodai is beyond your ability to understand."

He started to walk again, "Kill the boy and find me tonight," he repeated before disappearing around the bend.

Itachi frowned after him. He had studied both, of course—the Uchiha clan's own unstoppable monster and Konoha's First Hokage. The power of the Shodai was something completely foreign, something Itachi knew he would never be able to emulate.

That didn't mean he couldn't surpass Madara, though, and surpass the First in his own way.

He turned around and headed back to the contestant balcony again, his knees shaking slightly as he walked.

Slowly, a smile crossed the boy's lips. Madara wanted him to kill even in a condition like this when he could barely stand. At least it would be challenging.

He would follow Madara's orders for now because he still had a long way to go.