Chapter Five: Hatred

"Are you afraid?" Madara asks. Night has fallen and there is nobody on the streets – it's past curfew for the Uchiha clan.

I know he can see my hands trembling so there's no point in lying. "Yes."

"That's good." He nods, "It's always easier when you're afraid."

"Are you?"

Madara hesitates an instant too long before snorting and replying in a loud whisper, "Of course not." There's a long pause. Then, "If you want me to take out your loved ones, I understand. Even we villains struggle with emotions from time to time."

"No!" I answer vehemently, "I'll do it!" because to massacre my entire clan and not personally kill my parents would be the greatest insult.

"Alright," Madara motions for me to calm down, "Just tell me which house it is and I'll skip it."

"Number 504. It's in the center of the sector. I motion to the right. "You start on that end, and I'll take this end. We'll meet in the middle. Remember, silence is most important."

My feet are loud on the pavement and my breathing heavy as I approach the first house: 370; It's the home of Uchiha Kaito. Through the window I see his father, nose buried in the paper, completely oblivious to the doom approaching him.

Now is the time to use what I practiced earlier today. I imagine Shisui's face as ripped paper, and I rip it again and again in my mind until I feel no more. And then I take a deep breath, put my hand on the doorknob, and use chakra to undo the interior mechanisms of the lock.

I draw my katana before opening the door, afraid that the sound might alert the inhabitants to an intruder. I close the door soundlessly behind me, thankful that it doesn't creak. In the sitting room, there is Kaito's father, who looks up from his paper upon my entrance, and his wife (whom I didn't see through the window) in a corner doing a puzzle.

I move towards him first, knowing that she's not a ninja and can't do much to stop me. His hand goes to a knife concealed in his obi but by the time he draws it there's already a sword in his neck – the best place besides the head for a silent kill.

The wife's scream only gets halfway up her throat, blocked by a blade beneath her chin.

I know Kaito's upstairs because I saw the light in his room from the outside. I open the door to the room and immediately deflect two shuriken; he's a good ninja; he knew someone was intruding.

His face is dark and grim, like he's not surprised. It's frozen in that expression when I land a kunai in his forehead and shut the door behind me, leaving Kaito and his family in a pool of their own blood.

I draw a shaky breath. Three down. A lot to go.

I work my way through the sector, leaving each house as silently as I come. I hate to admit that it gets easier after the first few; after a while my emotions just decide there's nothing they can do and go to sleep so that I am a mechanical ninja, killing everything in his path with a single stroke.

I try not to dwell on any one person. I force myself to move on, past the blood bubbling at their lips, past the looks of utter betrayal they throw at me. The children are the worst; defenseless and cowering as their parents are slain, knowing that they are next. With a tremor of guilt, I am relieved that Uchiha Nagami's week-old daughter is on Madara's side of the sector.

Dimly, (as I cut and slash through the daycare lady and her son), I wonder how Madara is faring. I wonder if he's being as merciful as I am, or if he's relishing this.

After nearly an hour, I reach the large house with the numbers 504 on the front. I hesitate, then steel myself before entering.

The familiar smell of home hits me, overcoming the stench of blood that comes from my spattered clothes and stained katana.

"Itachi?" Mother appears first, quickly followed by Father, "Where've you been? We've been so worried abo –" she stops as I step into the moonlight cast, revealing my bloodied state. Father seems to understand at once while I raise the sword.

"I see." He says, with that frown of his once again.

"Please," I whisper hoarsely, "It's the only way."

Father looks down at his feet, but Mother looks straight into my eyes. It unnerves me because I see no panic in them, only calm acceptance.

"We love you, Itachi. So much."

"I love you too, Mother." I whisper as she puts her arms around me, "And you're getting blood on your dress."

"Doesn't matter." She chuckles, "But will you promise me one thing?"

"Of course."

"Please take care of Sasuke. He needs you."

I humor her, though I know that I can have zero part in Sasuke's life except for that of fueling hatred. "I will."

Father clears his throat as Mother and I pull apart. "I know we haven't been seeing eye-to-eye lately but . . . you're a top-notch shinobi and an even better man. I respect that, regardless of our differences, and I'm proud to call you my son, Itachi."

Praise from Father is incredibly rare, and I almost smile. "I guess this is it then." I offer quietly, for lack of anything better to say.

Father pulls Mother to him and kisses her one final time in the illumination of the moonlight, wiping a tear from her cheek.

They pull apart and both turn so that their backs are facing me. "Quickly, darling!" my mother urges, "Before Sasuke gets back!"

That's right, I remember that Sasuke is in a night-survival training session with a couple of his friends; they pestered Umino Iruka so much that he relented and took them out tonight. Thank god he isn't here watching this.

"No-one could ask for better parents." I reply as I force my emotions back to sleep.

Father first because I know Mother is taking this better than he is. The katana does not want to be pushed into his back, but I force it anyway, fresh blood glinting on the blade. He falls and the room shakes with the force of him hitting the floor.

The sword slides into mother's back more easily, either because she is smaller or less tense, I don't know. She too crashes to the floor next to Father.

I feel that cold icy feeling in my chest permeating to the rest of my body, I feel so numb. Just . . . nothing.

And then there is the click of the latch in the door; I turn and there stands my little brother. He freezes in the doorway as he takes in the scene: of Mother and Father bloodstained on the floor, of me standing over them, also bloodstained but clearly unharmed.

"I-Itachi?" He whimpers. I notice that he says 'Itachi' and not 'Nii-san'. When I reply, I make my voice cold and cruel.

"Hello, Sasuke. Welcome home."

"Itachi?" He asks again, "W-what's going on?"

"Exactly what it looks like." I shrug and begin to advance towards him. Sasuke flattens himself against the door, trying to become as small as possible.

"M-mother. And F-father? Are they . . ."

"Are they dead?" I raise an eyebrow, "Is that what you're trying to ask? Why yes, it would appear so."

"Baby Sasuke." I taunt, reaching out to poke him on the forehead in the routine manner. This is the last straw for him; he turns and bursts out the door. I follow him into the night.

"Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke!" I call in a sing-song voice, activating my Mangekyo Sharingan. Sasuke looks back to see how much I've gained on him and therein lies his mistake. We make eye contact and he skids to a halt, having been caught in my Tsukuyomi.

I am determined to make him hate me beyond belief, to scar his mind with my name. And so I put into the Tsukuyomi the most evil thing I can think of to show a small child: the death of his parents.

With a lot less love and a lot more blood.

When I release Sasuke from the genjutsu he's changed. I have achieved what I set out to do, I conclude. Because as Sasuke glares at me from below, I see that his eyes have taken on that red tint and single tomoe of an Uchiha's first Sharingan. A rush of pride fills me, but I quickly stifle it and don't let it show.

"Do you hate me?" I ask, echoing Danzo's words that day on the staircase, "Good. Use that hatred, Sasuke."

"Why?" He snarls. "How could you murder our parents – our clan!"

"Why?" I repeat. The question catches me off-guard – I didn't really prepare a backstory. "Oh, just target practice. But you know," I lean down to meet him at eye level, "You're so small and weak . . . almost a pity to waste a kunai on you." I twirl a kunai on my finger for effect. "I think I'm going to let you live, Sasuke. Come back to me when you've got your own Mangekyo Sharingan. Then, maybe someone will be strong enough to match me." I rise and turn.

"How?" Sasuke asks.

"Mangekyo? Easy." I tell him, "You've got to murder your best friend, like I did Shisui."

"Make no mistake, Itachi." My eight-year-old brother swears, "I will become strong, and I will kill you for this."

I smile over my shoulder at him, meant to look sadistic but actually genuine. Then I dash off over the rooftops, away from the Uchiha sector, away from Konoha, away from my beloved brother.

And then all the façade and all the ice shatters and I am myself again; a pacifist ninja who just murdered at least a hundred people and contributed to the deaths of at least a hundred more, and who just mentally tortured his brother and wished himself a death sentence. The tears come and Mother is not there to wipe them away and hold me like she did after Shisui, because she is dead on the floor in a puddle of iron stench next to my father's body.

I look back only once.

A/N: I never fully understood why Obito (in the guise of Madara) agreed to help Itachi kill the clan. Obito had no motivation (unless i'm missing something).

innyway, there won't be another chapter for a few days bc I'm going on vacation, sorry.

thanks for reading, please review!