Though Itachi had lost his eyes, his perception remained sharp. Years of ANBU training had honed his other senses to compensate for exactly this kind of situation. He could feel the surge of chakra emanating from Sasuke, could sense the rapid transformation occurring in his brother's ocular power.
The Mangekyō patterns were merging with Sasuke's three-tomoe Sharingan, fusing together, evolving into something greater. Something eternal.
Relief flooded through Itachi like warm water. The corner of his mouth curved upward despite the pain radiating from his abdomen, despite the blood loss making his head swim.
My plan was exposed, he thought. It didn't go the way I'd envisioned. But this part—this crucial transformation—it's happening now. And more importantly...
His smile widened slightly, becoming more genuine.
Sasuke forgave me.
That simple fact meant more than anything else. More than the successful transfer of the Sharingan. More than any tactical advantage the eyes would provide. His little brother, the person whose opinion mattered most in the entire world, had forgiven him.
I can die without regrets now.
"Haha..." The laugh escaped his lips unbidden, silent but profound. It bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, a sound of pure satisfaction, of impossible relief.
But the movement jarred his internal injuries. Blood flooded into his mouth, the metallic taste familiar after years of combat. He could feel it trickling from the corners of his lips, warm against his cold skin. More concerning was the sensation of his life force slowly draining away, like water leaking from a cracked vessel.
Not much time left, Itachi assessed clinically. Maybe minutes. Perhaps only seconds if I'm unlucky.
A strange thought drifted through his mind, unbidden and surprisingly wistful. I won't get to see Sasuke get married. Won't see him have children. Won't watch the Uchiha clan be reborn through him.
He laughed inwardly at himself, at the audacity of such thoughts.
What right do I have to expect more? To want to witness those moments? I destroyed our clan. The fact that Sasuke might forgive me at all is more than I deserve.
The truth was, he could have saved himself. Even now, with the Kusanagi wound in his abdomen, there were medical techniques he knew. Ways to slow the bleeding, to stabilize his condition long enough to receive proper treatment. He'd learned such methods during his ANBU years, and his knowledge had only expanded during his time with Akatsuki.
But he deliberately didn't use any of them.
Death is my best destination, Itachi thought with absolute certainty. The only appropriate ending for someone who's done what I've done.
His hands moved, gripping the Kusanagi blade still embedded in his lower abdomen. The metal was slick with his blood, warm from his body heat. He could feel it pressing against internal organs, could sense the damage it had caused.
With a sharp pull, he extracted the sword.
"Hiss—" The sound escaped his clenched teeth despite his best efforts. Pain exploded through his torso, white-hot and all-consuming. Even someone with his pain tolerance couldn't completely suppress the reaction.
Blood gushed from the wound immediately, hot and fast, soaking through his already ruined Akatsuki cloak. The flow was steady, rhythmic, matching his heartbeat. Each pulse sent another surge of crimson spreading across the fabric.
Naruto noticed the movement. His hand withdrew from Sasuke's face, letting Sasuke continue absorbing the ocular power on his own. He dropped into a crouch beside Itachi, hands already moving toward the wound.
"Let me help—"
"Don't bother, Naruto," Itachi interrupted gently. Despite his condition, his voice remained steady. "Life inevitably ends in death. For me, death is a blessing, not a curse."
His expression was peaceful. Genuinely peaceful in a way it hadn't been for five long years. The smile on his face held no bitterness, no regret, only profound relief.
"I understand," Naruto said quietly, his hands stilling.
And he did understand. Naruto could read it in every line of Itachi's body, in the set of his shoulders, in the way he'd pulled that blade free without hesitation. Itachi had personally slaughtered the Uchiha clan. Regardless of the reasons, regardless of the impossible choice forced upon him, that fact remained. The weight of those deaths had crushed something fundamental inside him.
He had no face to continue living. Death wasn't punishment—it was atonement. Release. Freedom from a guilt that would never fade.
Even if he survived, Itachi would never be able to pass the hurdle in his heart, Naruto realized. He'd carry this weight forever, unable to move forward, unable to find peace.
So Naruto withdrew his hand, respecting Itachi's choice.
Itachi's attention shifted to the Kusanagi sword in his grip. His empty eye sockets seemed to focus on it despite their lack of vision. "This is Sasuke's sword, isn't it?" His voice held a note of appreciation. "It's truly a fine weapon. I can feel the quality in the balance, the craftsmanship of the blade."
"Yeah," Naruto confirmed with a nod, even though Itachi couldn't see it. "That's right. It's Sasuke's. I took it from Orochimaru after killing him. Gave it to Sasuke as a weapon. He'd been wanting a proper sword for a long time."
"A good choice." Itachi's fingers traced along the blade's length, feeling the edge, the slight curve of the metal. "Though right now, it's covered in blood. My blood."
His mouth quirked slightly.
"Sasuke will definitely be annoyed about that. He hates messes." Itachi's voice grew weaker, words coming slower now. "Especially blood from... from me..."
He fumbled with his sleeve, trying to position the fabric against the blade. His movements were clumsy, uncoordinated. The strength was draining from his body rapidly now, making even simple tasks difficult.
"Let me—" Naruto started to reach forward again.
"Please," Itachi interrupted, still struggling with the sleeve. "Let me do this one last thing for Sasuke. This is all I can manage right now. Everything else..." He drew a shaky breath. "Everything else, I'll have to leave to you, Naruto."
The request was so earnest, so sincere, that Naruto couldn't refuse. He settled back on his heels, watching as Itachi painstakingly wiped the Kusanagi blade clean. Each swipe of the fabric was slow, deliberate, taking far more effort than it should have.
Itachi's breathing grew more labored. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool night air. But he persisted, cleaning away every trace of blood from the sword's surface until it gleamed clean in the moonlight.
Perfect, Itachi thought with satisfaction as he finished. Sasuke won't have to see my blood on his weapon anymore.
At that moment, Sasuke's eyes snapped open.
The transformation was complete. His pupils now bore a unique pattern—a six-pointed star formed from the fusion of two Mangekyō designs. The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. The power thrummed behind his eyes, vast and waiting to be explored.
But the pattern flickered and faded almost immediately as Sasuke's gaze fell on Itachi.
"Itachi..." Sasuke's voice was thick with emotion. His expression twisted into something complex and painful—guilt, grief, gratitude, fear all warring for dominance.
The incredible power he'd just gained meant nothing. How could he feel joy when it came at such a cost? When he'd absorbed it from his dying brother? When the strength in his eyes represented not just Itachi's sacrifice, but the accumulated blood and tears of the entire Uchiha clan?
I can't be happy about this, Sasuke thought, chest tight. I can't.
"Brother, let me help you," Sasuke said urgently, dropping to his knees beside Itachi. The cold, distant expression he'd worn earlier was completely gone, replaced by open concern. "I'll heal your wound. I can—"
Itachi's hand shot out with surprising speed, catching Sasuke's wrist. His grip was weak but insistent. Sweat poured down his face now, his skin pale as death. Each word clearly cost him tremendous effort.
"Sasuke, listen to me," Itachi gasped. "Don't waste time on anything else."
He drew a rattling breath.
"The truth is... I'm already sick. Have been for a while now." His lips pulled into a sad smile. "Even if today hadn't happened, I wouldn't have lived much longer anyway."
Sasuke's face went rigid with shock.
"I'm so happy," Itachi continued, and genuine joy infused his weakening voice. "So incredibly happy that you forgave me, Sasuke. That's more than I ever hoped for."
His fingers tightened fractionally on Sasuke's wrist.
"Remember what I told you. You must become completely familiar with the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan's abilities before you act. Master it thoroughly. Only when you're absolutely confident, when you have complete certainty of success, should you pursue what you want to do."
Sasuke grasped Itachi's hands with both of his own, gripping hard enough that his knuckles went white. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as he fought for control.
Finally, he nodded.
"I remember, brother. I promise. I won't do anything without one hundred percent certainty."
"Good." Relief flooded Itachi's features. "That's good."
His voice dropped lower, becoming softer. More intimate.
"Sasuke, you must live well. Live a long, full life." Itachi's empty eye sockets seemed to gaze at his brother with profound affection. "It's up to you to restore the Uchiha clan now. You're the only man left bearing our name. So work hard. Have many children. Give them good lives. Make sure our clan thrives again."
The words came slower now, each one requiring visible effort. But Itachi seemed trapped in his memories, lost in fragments of better times. His thin voice painted pictures of the past.
"Sasuke, do you remember when we used to chase each other through the dandelion field?" A genuine smile touched Itachi's lips at the memory. "That was the happiest time of my life. Actually, no—that's not quite right. Whenever I was with you, whenever we were together, I was happy. The dandelions were just one moment among thousands."
Sasuke's vision blurred with tears.
"I loved cooking for you," Itachi continued, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "Coming home from ANBU missions, standing under that streetlamp waiting for you to return from the Academy. Even when my feet went numb from standing so long, I never minded. Because I knew you'd come around the corner eventually, and I'd get to see your face light up when you saw me waiting."
His breath hitched slightly.
"But you know, Sasuke, you broke my heart once." Despite the dire circumstances, Itachi's tone held gentle teasing. "Just once, but it really hurt."
Sasuke blinked, confusion cutting through his grief. "What?"
"It was after you came home from the Academy one day," Itachi explained, and now there was warmth in his voice despite its weakness. "You asked me, 'Brother, will you teach me how to cook?'"
A soft laugh, barely audible.
"When you said that, my heart felt like it would burst. I thought you wanted to learn because you ate my cooking every day. That you wanted to cook for me in return. I was so happy I could barely contain it."
The smile on Itachi's face turned rueful.
"But then I found out the truth. After you learned to cook, you wanted to make food for Naruto. Not for me. For Naruto. And you'd only known him for... what, a few weeks at that point?"
Despite everything, despite the tears streaming down his face, Sasuke found himself laughing. The sound was wet, broken, but genuine. "Brother... you were jealous!"
"That's right," Itachi admitted without shame. "I was completely jealous. What kind of brother wouldn't be?"
His expression shifted, becoming wistful.
"But unfortunately, I'll never get to taste your cooking now. I wish I could have. I wish..."
He trailed off, the words becoming too difficult.
"Wait!" Sasuke's voice cracked with desperation. "Just wait right here. Don't move. Don't you dare move!"
He was already talking faster, words tumbling over each other.
"I'll make you something right now. You can eat a meal I prepared. You can taste my cooking. Just stay here. Stay alive. Please!"
Sasuke turned to Naruto, eyes wild with desperation.
"Naruto, please help me take care of him. Keep him stable. I'll be back in just a few minutes. Keep him breathing until I return!"
Before Naruto could respond, before he could even open his mouth to agree or object, Sasuke vanished in a flash of yellow light. The Flying Thunder God technique whisked him away instantly.
Itachi sensed Sasuke's departure through the sudden absence of his chakra signature. His face relaxed slightly, losing some of its tension.
"Sasuke," he whispered to the empty air where his brother had been. "Please forgive your brother's last selfishness. I don't want you to watch me die. I can't bear for you to see that final moment. Let me spare you that one pain, at least."
Naruto understood immediately. "You deliberately sent him away."
"Yes." Itachi didn't bother denying it.
"Why are you doing this?" Naruto sighed softly, the sound heavy with resignation.
Even as he sighed, his hands moved with purpose. He pressed them against Itachi's abdomen, chakra flowing from his palms to slow the bleeding, to stabilize what could be stabilized.
"Let me be clear," Naruto said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. "Whether you want to die or not is your business. But I promised Sasuke you'd stay alive until he got back. So you're going to hang on until he returns and you eat what he makes. That's non-negotiable."
"Hehe..." The laugh that escaped Itachi was fond, almost affectionate. "You and Sasuke really are similar in the strangest ways. No wonder you became such good friends. Better than family, even."
His voice grew softer, more contemplative.
"Sometimes, I truly envy what you two have. That bond. That understanding. The way you support each other without question."
A pause, then Itachi's voice became firm one final time.
"Naruto, please take good care of Sasuke."
Those were his last words. After that, Itachi went silent. His breathing became shallower, the spaces between each breath growing longer.
Sasuke materialized in the farm's kitchen via Flying Thunder God.
His mind raced, cataloging options. He could cook many dishes—Itachi had taught him well over the years, and he'd continued practicing with Naruto. But given Itachi's current condition, most recipes would take too long. The complexity of preparation would waste precious minutes that his brother didn't have.
After a moment's frantic consideration, Sasuke made his decision.
Fried eggs.
Simple. Quick. And most importantly—Itachi had made them for him countless times. Those mornings before the Academy, Itachi standing at the stove, the smell of cooking eggs filling their small kitchen. The golden yolks, perfectly cooked. The way Itachi would add just a touch of green onion for color and flavor.
He always made them for me. Now I'll make them for him.
Sasuke's hands moved with practiced efficiency, muscle memory taking over. He heated the pan, added oil, cracked the eggs with perfect precision. As he cooked, he forced himself to remain calm, to not let worry about Itachi interfere with his technique.
Stay focused. Cook it perfectly. He deserves your best effort.
It was a lesson Itachi himself had taught him—when cooking for someone you love, you give it your complete attention. Every action deliberate, every motion purposeful.
One minute later, the eggs were done.
Golden and perfect, they gleamed on the white plate. Sasuke added a careful sprinkle of green onion on top, exactly the way Itachi used to do it. The presentation was simple but elegant.
Brother Itachi, please wait for me. Just a little longer. I'm coming back now.
Sasuke grabbed chopsticks with one hand, held the plate carefully with the other, and activated Flying Thunder God.
"Brother, I made fried eggs for you!"
Sasuke's voice rang out the instant he materialized, full of hope and urgency. "I think you'll really like how they turned out. The technique you taught me—I've been practicing—"
He looked down.
Naruto stood beside Itachi's body, his expression somber. He met Sasuke's eyes and shook his head slowly. Once. A single, devastating movement.
Sasuke's face froze mid-sentence.
The plate trembled in his grip. His mind refused to process what he was seeing. Itachi lay on the ground, still and peaceful. Too still. Too peaceful. The shallow breathing had stopped entirely.
No.
Something inside Sasuke cracked. The frozen expression on his face suddenly twisted with rage and anguish. His fingers released the plate.
CRASH.
The ceramic shattered against the ground, white shards scattering across the grass. The golden eggs mixed with dirt and fragments, ruined beyond recognition.
"ITACHI!"
Sasuke's voice ripped from his throat, raw and wounded.
"Why the hell couldn't you wait to eat one fried egg before leaving?!"
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