Naruto's words hit like a kunai between the ribs.
Itachi's pupils constricted sharply, the Mangekyō Sharingan trembling in his eyes. For just a moment, the carefully maintained mask slipped, revealing something raw and wounded beneath.
His gaze locked onto Naruto's, desperate and pleading. Don't, those eyes begged. Please don't expose this. Everything I've done, every lie I've told, it's all for Sasuke's sake.
Naruto met that silent plea with steady blue eyes. He understood what Itachi wanted. The look was clear enough: Play along. Let me be the monster. Let Sasuke hate me purely, completely, without complication.
But Naruto shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly.
No.
Itachi's breath caught. His jaw tightened as he realized Naruto wouldn't conspire with him. Wouldn't help maintain the elaborate fiction that had consumed five years of both their lives.
Naruto believed Sasuke deserved the truth. At twelve years old, nearly thirteen, Sasuke was no longer a child who needed to be shielded from harsh realities. He'd survived the massacre. He'd trained relentlessly for five years. He'd awakened the Sharingan and pushed it to three tomoe through sheer determination and pain.
He could handle the truth.
And even if the truth was too heavy, even if it threatened to crush Sasuke beneath its weight... well, that's what family was for. Naruto would be there to help him carry it. Just as Sasuke had said moments ago, they were family. They would bear this burden together.
Sasuke wasn't stupid. Watching the silent exchange between Naruto and Itachi, seeing his brother's sudden change in expression, understanding crystallized in his mind like ice forming on a winter pond.
There's more to this. There's something they're not saying.
A tiny spark of hope, so small it hurt to acknowledge, flickered to life in Sasuke's chest. Hope was dangerous. Hope could be crushed, and the pain of crushed hope was worse than simple hatred. But he couldn't help it.
"Itachi," Sasuke's voice came out rough, raw with emotion he'd tried to bury for five years. "What Naruto said... is it true?"
His grip on the Kusanagi wavered slightly, the blade's tip moving fractionally away from Itachi's chest.
"Do you really have difficulties?" The question tumbled out, desperate and yearning. "Were all those things you said before lies? You were lying to me, weren't you?"
Silence.
Itachi said nothing. His face had gone carefully blank again, but Sasuke could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight tremor in his hands still pressed against the ground.
The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring. Each passing second felt like an eternity. Sasuke's heart hammered against his ribs, hope and fear warring in his chest.
This wasn't the result Itachi had wanted. Not even close. His carefully constructed plan had been for Sasuke to learn the truth eventually, yes, but only after killing him. Only after taking his Sharingan eyes and gaining the Eternal Mangekyō. Only after Sasuke had become strong enough that the truth wouldn't destroy him, that it would simply be... information. Context for decisions already made.
If he revealed everything now, Sasuke would refuse the eyes even more vehemently. Would reject the power that came from such sacrifice, such pain.
But the silence was killing them both.
"Itachi," Sasuke's voice cracked slightly. "Tell me. Please."
Still nothing. Itachi kept his gaze fixed on the ground between them, refusing to meet Sasuke's eyes.
"Do you really want me to kill you with my own hands?" Sasuke demanded, and now there was anguish bleeding through the anger. "Is that the result you want? Is this what you planned?"
His breathing had gone ragged, the Sharingan spinning faster in his eyes.
"Yes, I hate you," Sasuke admitted, each word dragged from somewhere deep and dark inside him. "I hate you so much sometimes I can barely breathe. I want to kill you, to avenge Father and Mother, to make you pay for what you did to our clan."
The Kusanagi's tip pressed harder against Itachi's chest again, drawing fresh blood.
"But at the same time..." Sasuke's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I need to know the truth. I need to understand what happened that night. Why you did it. Because there's a part of me that still..."
He couldn't finish. Couldn't admit that there was still a part of him that remembered the brother who'd taught him shuriken throwing, who'd cooked his favorite foods, who'd waited on streetlamps until his feet went numb just to walk him home from the Academy.
Itachi's continued silence was its own kind of torture.
"Do you even realize what you're asking of me?" Sasuke's voice rose, becoming sharp with frustration and pain. "You want me to kill you. You want me to take your eyes. But if I do that, if I murder you with my own hands, it will destroy me."
He drew a shaky breath.
"Because you're still my brother," Sasuke said, and the admission felt like ripping open an old wound. "No matter what you did, no matter how much I hate you, that fact doesn't change. You're still the person who raised me when I was small. Still the brother who stood on streetlamps waiting for me, even when it got late, even when your feet went numb from standing so long."
Memories flashed through Sasuke's mind unbidden. Itachi's patient smile as he demonstrated the proper way to hold a kunai. The warmth of his hand ruffling Sasuke's hair. The comfort of his presence at bedtime, chasing away nightmares with soft words and gentle reassurances.
"We had so many good memories together," Sasuke continued, his voice thick with emotion. "And you destroyed them all with your own hands that night. You burned them to ash along with everyone else."
Tears pricked at the corners of Sasuke's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He'd cried enough. Five years of tears, of rage, of confusion and pain.
"So if what Naruto said is true, if you really do regret it... then tell me. Tell me the truth."
Itachi's mouth opened slightly, but no sound emerged. He looked like a man drowning, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
Naruto had been silent through this exchange, watching the brothers with those impossibly perceptive blue eyes. Now he stepped forward, his voice calm and measured.
"Itachi-san, you may not fully understand the technique I used on you," Naruto said. "The Opening the Netherworld. It works by attacking the spirit directly, forcing the target to confront their deepest fears."
He paused, making sure both brothers were listening.
"When someone is struck by this technique, they sink into their own psyche. Their mind constructs a world built from their fears, their regrets, their deepest anxieties. Whatever they fear most will manifest and torture them."
Naruto's gaze fixed on Itachi with uncomfortable intensity.
"And as the one who cast the technique, I can observe everything. I see the fear-world as clearly as if I were standing in it myself. Every detail. Every manifestation of terror and guilt."
Itachi's face had gone pale.
"I understood your look just now," Naruto continued, addressing the silent plea Itachi had made earlier. "You wanted me to keep quiet. To let you play the villain. To maintain the lie so Sasuke would kill you without hesitation or regret."
He shook his head slowly.
"I get it. If I'd done what you wanted, Sasuke would have killed you as planned. Or maybe you had additional schemes prepared, other contingencies. But I also understand Sasuke."
Naruto glanced at his friend, his brother in all but blood.
"Just like Sasuke said, if he kills you, he'll fall into unbearable pain. But if he doesn't kill you, he'll feel he's betrayed the memory of his clan and his parents. No matter which choice he makes, Sasuke will be trapped in a nightmare of regret and second-guessing."
The words hung heavy in the night air.
"Itachi-san," Naruto's voice became almost gentle. "Do you really want Sasuke to fall into the same deep regret that's consumed you? Do you want him lying awake every night, tormented by nightmares, standing on streetlamps until dawn because he can't bear to close his eyes?"
The question struck home. Itachi flinched as if physically hit.
"Do you want him to become like you?" Naruto pressed. "Wearing masks, living lies, dying inside a little more each day?"
Itachi's carefully constructed defenses were crumbling. His breathing had become shallow, rapid. The Mangekyō Sharingan spun erratically in his eyes, no longer under perfect control.
Everything had failed. His entire plan, five years in the making, had collapsed like a house of cards. He'd underestimated his little brother. Sasuke had grown so much under Naruto's influence, had become stronger in ways that had nothing to do with chakra or technique.
And Naruto himself was the ultimate variable. An impossible element that Itachi couldn't have predicted or planned for.
It's over, Itachi realized. The performance is finished.
The indifference on his face began to melt away like snow under spring sun. The cold, cruel mask he'd worn for five years slipped off, revealing the face beneath.
His eyes, those legendary Sharingan eyes, grew warmer. Softer. The way they used to look when Sasuke was small, when life was simpler, when brothers were just brothers and the world made sense.
A smile, genuine and unforced, touched Itachi's lips. It transformed his entire face, making him look younger, more vulnerable. More human.
He looked at Sasuke, really looked at him, the way he used to on those streetlamps while waiting for the Academy to let out. His gaze drank in every detail: how much Sasuke had grown, the sharp angles of his face that were just starting to resemble their father's, the way he held himself with unconscious pride and determination.
My little brother, Itachi thought, and for once let himself feel the full weight of that love without guilt, without reservation. You've become so strong.
Sasuke felt something shift in the air between them. Itachi's expression, the warmth in those eyes that had been cold and hateful for so long, triggered memories Sasuke had tried to bury.
Brother, his heart whispered, recognizing something it had feared lost forever.
This was the Itachi from before. From the good days. From childhood afternoons and peaceful evenings and moments of pure, uncomplicated affection.
Sasuke's face softened despite himself. His grip on the Kusanagi loosened further. The Sharingan in his eyes stopped spinning quite so frantically.
Itachi looked from Sasuke to Naruto and back again. A trace of helplessness curved his mouth, the expression of someone who'd fought hard but ultimately lost.
But perhaps losing wasn't such a terrible thing.
"Sasuke," Itachi said, and his voice was different now. Gentler. More like the brother Sasuke remembered. "I still couldn't die according to my wishes after all."
He drew a slow breath, gathering his thoughts.
"In truth, you shouldn't have to know any of this. Your world should be full of light and hope and simple truths. The dark, dirty things, the complicated conspiracies and impossible choices... I wanted to bear all of that alone. To keep it from touching you."
"I need to know," Sasuke said immediately, firmly. His jaw set with determination. "I'm not a child anymore, Itachi. I can handle the truth."
Seeing that determination, that unwavering resolve in Sasuke's face, Itachi couldn't help but smile. A real smile, tinged with pride and sadness and resigned acceptance.
"I'll never be able to win against you, Sasuke," he admitted with a soft laugh. "You've always been too stubborn for your own good."
The comment was so normal, so brotherly, that Sasuke felt something tight in his chest begin to loosen.
"Since you want to know," Itachi said, his voice steady now, decision made, "then I'll tell you everything."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his words were softer.
"Actually, I shouldn't have come at this time. Wasn't planning to. But it's been so long since I've seen you, little brother. Too long." Itachi's eyes held unmistakable affection now. "I wanted to see how you've grown. How much taller you've gotten. What kind of person you're becoming."
There was no point hiding his feelings anymore. The mask was gone, shattered beyond repair. So Itachi let himself simply... feel. Let himself look at his brother with open love for the first time in five years.
"I'll tell you everything," he promised. "My choice. My plan. What I was thinking, what I hoped to accomplish. All of it."
And so Itachi began to talk.
Sasuke and Naruto settled into listening positions, both going still and silent. The night seemed to hold its breath around them, the cricket's song fading into background noise as Itachi's voice filled the space.
He told them about the coup. About how the Uchiha clan had been planning to overthrow the village leadership, how tensions had been building for years, how the Uchiha felt marginalized and suspected ever since the Nine-Tails' attack.
He explained how he'd been caught between two worlds, as an ANBU operative loyal to Konoha and as a member of the Uchiha clan. How he'd been ordered to spy on his own family, to report their plans to the Hokage.
He described the impossible choice that had been presented to him: allow the coup to proceed, which would result in civil war and the destruction of both the Uchiha clan and Konoha itself... or eliminate the coup before it could begin. By eliminating everyone planning it.
He spoke of how he'd tried to find another way, how he'd begged the leadership to negotiate, to compromise, to do anything that didn't end in bloodshed. But the orders had been absolute. The Uchiha coup was deemed too dangerous to allow. The risk to the village too great.
And then came the final ultimatum: kill the Uchiha clan, or Sasuke would be eliminated as well.
Itachi's voice remained steady as he explained, but his eyes reflected the pain of that memory. The choice that wasn't really a choice at all. His entire clan, or his brother. Everyone he'd ever known, or the one person he loved most in the world.
He'd chosen Sasuke.
He told them about that night. About going from house to house, door to door, ending lives as quickly and painlessly as possible. About his parents, who'd known what was coming, who'd accepted it with dignity and told him they were proud of his choice.
About the screaming that still echoed in his nightmares. About the blood that he could still smell sometimes when he closed his eyes.
And then he explained the plan. How he'd decided that rather than let Sasuke know the truth and be crushed by the knowledge that his brother had saved him at such cost, he would become a target instead. A goal. A villain for Sasuke to hate purely and seek vengeance against.
How he'd crafted every cruel word, every dismissive gesture, every theatrical display of power-hunger and ambition. All designed to make Sasuke hate him without complication or doubt.
How he'd planned for Sasuke to eventually kill him, to take his Sharingan eyes, to become powerful enough that no one could ever force such a choice on him again.
Itachi's voice grew rougher as he spoke of joining Akatsuki, of the missions he'd undertaken, of the things he'd done to maintain his cover as a missing-nin. Each crime another brick in the wall between him and Sasuke. Each action calculated to make the eventual confrontation clean, simple, righteous.
He spoke of standing on streetlamps, unable to sleep, waiting for dawn to burn away the nightmares. Of the regret that had grown like a cancer inside him. Of wondering if he'd made the right choice, of questioning everything except his love for Sasuke.
The words flowed like water from a broken dam, five years of secrets and pain and carefully hidden truth pouring out into the night air.
When he finally stopped talking, his voice hoarse from the long confession, the silence that followed felt profound. Heavy with the weight of everything that had been revealed.
For some reason, despite the horror of what he'd just shared, Itachi felt lighter. As if the secret, once spoken, had lost some of its power to crush him. The burden was still there, still impossibly heavy, but now it was shared. Now someone else knew.
Now Sasuke knew.
And somehow, that made it bearable.
Sasuke stood frozen, his mind reeling. The truth Itachi had just laid bare was so much worse, so much more complicated, than anything he'd imagined during five years of hatred and training.
His brother hadn't killed their clan for power. Hadn't murdered their parents out of ambition or cold-heartedness. Had been forced into an impossible situation with no good options, only degrees of terrible.
And everything since, every cruel word and dismissive gesture, every time Itachi had called him weak or pathetic... all of it had been an act. A performance designed to let Sasuke hate him cleanly, without the burden of understanding.
He did it for me, Sasuke thought, and the realization was crushing. Everything was for me.
The Kusanagi trembled in his grip.
Watching Sasuke's stunned expression, seeing how the truth had staggered him, Itachi felt a pang of regret for speaking. Maybe I really shouldn't have told him. He's still not strong enough for this.
But then he looked at Naruto, standing steady beside Sasuke like an anchor, and felt reassured. Sasuke wasn't alone anymore. He had family, real family, who would help him carry this burden.
It will be okay, Itachi thought. He has Naruto.
Decision crystallized in Itachi's mind. His original plan might have failed, but he could still give Sasuke one final gift.
Before anyone could react, Itachi grabbed the Kusanagi blade still pressed against his chest and pulled hard, driving it deeper into his own body.
The sharp steel punched through flesh and scraped against bone. Blood bloomed across his chest, soaking the black and red Akatsuki cloak.
"Itachi!"
Sasuke snapped back to awareness, feeling the blade move in his grip. He looked down in horror to see the Kusanagi buried deep in his brother's chest, blood pooling around the wound. "What are you—"
"Sasuke," Itachi interrupted, his voice already weakening but still gentle. "I've told you everything. Now remember this: don't seek revenge. Not yet. Not until you're strong enough. Promise me you won't be impulsive."
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His breathing had become labored.
"Itachi, you're not allowed to die!" Sasuke shouted, panic flooding his system. "I won't let you! Not like this!"
He tried to pull the blade out, but Itachi's grip was iron-strong despite the wound. Their hands struggled against each other, Sasuke trying to save his brother's life, Itachi determined to end it.
Looking at Sasuke's anxious, panicked face, Itachi felt his heart warm. This is the brother I remember. The boy who cried when I left for missions. The child who needed me.
He shook his head slowly, blood continuing to spill from his lips.
"Sasuke," Itachi said softly, his voice barely audible over Sasuke's frantic breathing. "Can you do something for me? One last thing?"
"What? Anything! Just stop—"
"Can you call me 'brother' again?" Itachi asked, and now his voice was completely vulnerable, all pretense stripped away. "Just once more. Please."
The request hit Sasuke like a physical blow. His throat closed up. His eyes burned with unshed tears.
Call him brother. Such a simple thing. A word he'd said a thousand times as a child, naturally and without thought. But for five years, that word had been forbidden, locked away behind hatred and betrayal and blood.
Sasuke looked at Itachi's face, really looked at it. Saw the genuine affection there, the desperate hope, the love that had never actually died despite everything.
His heart, which he'd tried so hard to harden into something cold and unfeeling, softened despite his best efforts.
"I..." Sasuke's voice cracked. He swallowed hard, tried again. "Brother."
The word came out rough, thick with emotion. But it came out.
And Itachi's face transformed. Joy, pure and uncomplicated and radiant, spread across his features. His smile was the happiest Sasuke had seen in five years, maybe ever.
"Thank you," Itachi whispered. "Thank you, Sasuke. If I can hear you call me 'brother' one more time, I can die without regret."
The words brought fresh panic to Sasuke's face, but before he could protest further, Itachi moved with sudden speed.
His hands flew to his own face. Fingers dug into the flesh around his eyes.
"Wait! Don't—"
Too late. With practiced precision born from ANBU training, Itachi removed both Mangekyō Sharingan in one swift motion. Blood poured from the empty sockets as he brought the eyes toward Sasuke.
"Sasuke," Itachi said, his voice steady despite the pain and blood loss. "I know you hate these eyes. I understand why."
He extended his hands, offering the Sharingan. The legendary eyes gleamed red in his bloody palms, still active, still spinning their eternal patterns.
"But based on your current Sharingan, with only three tomoe..." Itachi's lips curved into one final smile. "How far can you see?"
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