Violent chakra erupted against Itachi's torso. The Rasengan's spiraling force drove deep, launching him backward through the air.
CRASH!
Itachi hit the ground hard, skidding across the dirt before executing a flawless recovery. He flipped upright like a coiling spring, landing in a crouch with both hands pressed to the earth, head lowered.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"Die, Uchiha Itachi."
Sasuke gripped the streetlamp in one hand, Kusanagi sword in the other, and charged.
Itachi raised his head, expression shifting to genuine seriousness. He'd thought he could hold back enough to let Sasuke kill him cleanly, make it look natural. But that Rasengan had actually hurt. Sasuke had grown far stronger than expected.
I'll need to push him harder. Make him work for this.
His eyes tracked to where Naruto stood, then down to Samehada lying abandoned on the ground. Kisame's death had been visible even during the Rasengan exchange.
Something flickered deep in Itachi's eyes. Grief, sharp and sudden.
Then it vanished, replaced by cold determination. He gripped kunai in both hands and rushed forward to meet Sasuke's charge.
"Itachi! Stand up straight!"
When they closed to striking range, Sasuke raised the streetlamp again, voice commanding.
But Itachi had already fallen for that trick once. He wouldn't be caught twice. Fighting the instinctive urge to comply, he swung both kunai toward Sasuke instead.
CLANG!
The Kusanagi blade intercepted both kunai simultaneously. Realizing the streetlamp had lost its psychological leverage, Sasuke hurled it aside and gripped his sword with both hands.
Then he launched a devastating assault.
This became a pure test of taijutsu and bladework.
Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!
Neither brother held anything back. Every strike targeted vital points. Every attack met perfect defense. Steel rang against steel in rapid percussion, sparks flying with each collision.
The stalemate didn't surprise either of them. They'd learned the same sword techniques from the same teacher: Uchiha Fugaku, their father.
But both fighters pushed harder, the physical confrontation reaching fever pitch.
Sasuke's presence intensified with each exchange. His eyes bled crimson, three tomoe materializing in each iris as the Sharingan activated fully. His attacks accelerated, strikes becoming more precise and devastating.
Itachi's own Sharingan flared to life in response. Years of combat experience let him read Sasuke's movements, intercepting attacks with minimal effort.
"Well, well," Itachi said with mock pleasure, "my foolish little brother has reached three tomoe. You might actually be worthy of becoming part of me now."
"Hmph." Sasuke's cold snort carried no wasted emotion.
His combat experience was solid too—beaten into him through countless spars with Naruto. And that Rasengan had connected, had drawn blood. Itachi was already damaged, his stamina compromised.
More importantly, Itachi was sick. His constitution couldn't match Sasuke's youth and vigor.
This was a war of attrition Itachi couldn't win.
Ding-ding-ding-ding!
The brothers wove around each other in deadly dance, Kusanagi and kunai meeting in endless collision. Each impact threw brilliant sparks, metal screaming against metal.
Itachi used his Sharingan's copying ability, mirroring Sasuke's techniques even as he fought, forcing several attacks to fail through perfect prediction.
But Sasuke remained calm, maintaining flawless rhythm with the Kusanagi. His breathing stayed steady, controlled. He was simply waiting for Itachi to exhaust himself.
Itachi's breath had already grown slightly labored.
"Itachi," Sasuke said conversationally while their blades locked, "I saw something just now. Sadness, deep in your eyes. Was that for the shark face who died?"
The words created a hairline fracture in Itachi's composure. Then he recovered, smiling lightly. "It seems Sasuke hasn't just grown stronger—you've learned psychological warfare too. Trying to disrupt my rhythm with words?"
Sasuke didn't confirm or deny. He pressed forward. "That man was your partner, wasn't he? I can tell from your matching uniforms. An S-rank missing-nin from Konoha, working for some organization?"
"You felt sadness over his death." Sasuke's voice hardened. "So tell me, Itachi—did you feel any sadness when you killed our father? Our mother? When you slaughtered our entire clan with your own hands?"
"Sadness?" Itachi's laugh came out cold and hollow. "Why would I feel sad? I don't mourn the big green face's death. Just like I felt nothing when our parents and clan died. Their deaths were simply means to an end—steps toward greater strength."
His voice took on a lecturing tone, like explaining something obvious to a child.
"The Mangekyō Sharingan is a cursed eye, Sasuke. Once awakened, it inevitably loses its light. But with your eyes, my ocular power won't just grow stronger—it will gain eternal brilliance. Never fear darkness again."
"Those people's deaths enhanced my power. They became part of me. So you see, Sasuke, you should become part of me too."
"Once you do, we'll never truly be separated. We'll still be a loving family. I'll view this beautiful world through your eyes."
"All of this ends now."
His Mangekyō Sharingan activated with a pulse of dark power.
"Tsukuyomi!"
Hearing Itachi's casual delivery of those terrible words drained the last of Sasuke's anger. Only cold purpose remained. He started to swing the Kusanagi for another strike—
Then he saw Itachi's eyes.
They contained infinite pull, irresistible gravity. Sasuke's consciousness got yanked inward like being swallowed by a black hole.
"Relive the pain again, my foolish little brother!"
Those were the last words Sasuke heard before plunging into endless darkness.
When awareness returned, he found himself standing in the Uchiha compound.
"AHHHHH! Don't kill me! Please, don't hurt him—he's just a child!"
Screams. Countless screams from all directions.
Sasuke ran toward the sounds. He rounded a corner and saw Itachi, covered in blood, raising his blade above a small Uchiha boy.
Around them, clan members lay in spreading pools of crimson.
"NO!" The boy's mother threw herself in front of Itachi.
Itachi smiled—a devil's smile—and drove his blade through her chest. She crumpled. Then he stepped over her body toward the boy and thrust the sword forward.
Blood splashed across Itachi's face.
That terrible smile never wavered. He turned his head, seeming to look directly at Sasuke. "My foolish little brother. You can't stop any of this. You're too weak."
"So pathetically weak that you can only watch your clan die, one by one, right before your eyes."
"AHHHHHH!" Sasuke's scream of anguish tore from his throat.
Outside the illusion, Naruto had returned to normal size after killing Kisame. He'd held back from interfering in the brothers' battle, letting Sasuke handle his own confrontation.
But now Sasuke's Kusanagi had fallen from nerveless fingers. His face twisted in agony, body rigid with pain.
Naruto had seen this before—when he'd accidentally caught Sasuke in Itachi's Tsukuyomi technique years ago. The spiritual attack pulled victims into an illusory world, forcing them to relive their worst trauma.
Sasuke was trapped. In danger.
Naruto moved.
One instant he stood watching. The next, he appeared directly in front of Itachi.
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