"Based on your current Sharingan, how far can you see?"
Blood continued to pour from the empty sockets where Itachi's eyes had been. His hands remained extended, palms up, the legendary Mangekyō Sharingan resting in pools of crimson. The eyes still spun lazily, their patterns hypnotic even detached from their original owner.
"Come on," Itachi urged, his voice steady despite the pain that must have been excruciating. "Absorb my ocular power. Let your Sharingan evolve into the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. Once you're familiar with that power, you'll finally have the ability to do everything you want to do."
Two streams of blood-tears tracked down his face from the empty sockets, creating grotesque trails across his pale skin. Even knowing that Sasuke now understood all his plans, all his reasons, Itachi felt compelled to persist.
Just in case, he thought. If Sasuke accepts them, it could save him years of struggle. Could give him the power to face what's coming.
Sasuke stared at the bloody eyes cupped in his brother's hands. His gaze traveled upward, taking in Itachi's face, and what he saw made something cold settle in his chest.
The empty sockets were horrifying. Dark voids where eyes should have been, weeping blood like tears. The face that had once been handsome, aristocratic, unmistakably Uchiha, now looked like something from a nightmare. Empty. Terrifying. Monstrous.
And Itachi had done this to himself. While Sasuke stood there in shock, still reeling from the confession, still processing the impossible truth of that night five years ago, Itachi had gouged out his own eyes without hesitation.
He's still trying to control everything, Sasuke realized, and fury rose hot and sharp in his throat. Still deciding what's best for me without asking. Still pushing me down the path he chose.
The calm that had settled over Sasuke's face during Itachi's confession shattered. His expression turned cold again, ice replacing the brief thaw of understanding.
"I already told you," Sasuke said, his voice cutting like a blade through winter air. "I don't want your eyes. I'll become strong on my own."
He took a deliberate step back, putting distance between himself and those offered Sharingan.
"Your behavior right now is really annoying," Sasuke continued, each word sharp with controlled anger. "So self-righteous. So certain you know what's best. Do you really think I have to walk down the path you've chosen for me?"
Itachi's face, already pale from blood loss, seemed to drain of what little color remained.
"What you think is good for me—is that automatically what I think is good for me?" Sasuke demanded. "I don't want you to think for me. I want to think for myself. I'm not your accessory, some extension of your will. I'm an individual person with my own mind, my own goals, my own life to live."
The Kusanagi blade, still gripped in Sasuke's hand, trembled slightly. Not from weakness, but from the force of emotion barely contained.
"No one needs to influence how I live," Sasuke said firmly. "Not you, not the village, not anyone."
He drew a breath, steadying himself.
"And don't act so noble," Sasuke added, his voice dropping to something colder. "If you were truly noble, if your choice was truly righteous, you wouldn't have spent the last five years drowning in regret. You wouldn't stand on streetlamps every night because you can't bear to close your eyes and face what you did."
The words struck home. Itachi's hands, still holding the Sharingan, trembled.
"Keep your eyes," Sasuke said flatly. "I don't need them. One day, I'll evolve my own Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan through my own power, my own choices, my own path."
Itachi felt Sasuke's words like physical blows. Each statement was cold, precise, surgical in its ability to wound. Though he couldn't see his brother's expression anymore, couldn't read the exact emotions playing across that face, he could imagine it clearly. The hard set of Sasuke's jaw. The fierce pride in his eyes. The stubborn determination that had always been there, even as a child.
He's right, Itachi thought, and something inside him cracked further. I'm doing it again. Deciding for him. Pushing him.
His hands tightened around the Sharingan eyes, fingers curling slightly. Blood squelched between his knuckles. The corner of his mouth twisted into something that might have been a smile if it wasn't so bitter, so self-mocking.
"You're right," Itachi admitted, his voice rough. "At that time, I was young. Inexperienced. I hadn't seen much of the world beyond our village. I didn't understand how to navigate the complex relationship between the Uchiha clan and Konoha's leadership."
He drew a shaky breath.
"That's why I wandered for more than five years. Traveling with Akatsuki, seeing different villages, different ways of life, different solutions to similar problems." Itachi's empty eye sockets seemed to stare at nothing. "It took me all that time to finally understand. And once I understood, the regret began."
The night breeze picked up, carrying the metallic scent of blood.
"Sasuke, you've grown up," Itachi continued, and now his voice held unmistakable pride beneath the pain. "You don't need your brother's guidance anymore. Don't need me making decisions for you or choosing your path. You're strong enough to forge your own way now."
He paused, considering the eyes in his hands.
"So you're right. If you want to become stronger through your own efforts, through your own methods, then do it. These eyes of mine are indeed very dirty. Stained with innocent blood. They don't deserve to become part of you, part of someone who still has the chance to remain clean."
Blood continued to drip from Itachi's face, pattering quietly on the ground.
"However," he said softly, "my only wish, the only thing I've ever truly wanted, is for you to live. To survive and thrive and become everything you're capable of being. That was true when I made my choice five years ago. It's still true now."
Itachi's voice became firmer, more insistent.
"Promise me something, Sasuke. Before you become truly strong, before you have the power to face them on equal terms, don't seek revenge. Don't be reckless. Don't throw your life away pursuing justice you're not yet capable of achieving."
His jaw tightened.
"Otherwise, everything I've done becomes meaningless. All the pain, all the sacrifice, all of it was to keep you alive. If you die pursuing revenge before you're ready..." Itachi's voice cracked slightly. "I won't be able to rest in peace. I'll be tormented even in death, knowing I failed you in the end."
The admission hung heavy in the air.
Then Itachi turned his head, his ruined face orienting toward where Naruto stood. He couldn't see the boy anymore, but he knew approximately where he was from the sound of his breathing.
"Naruto," Itachi said, and now his voice carried a quality it never had before. Vulnerability. Pleading. "You're Sasuke's good friend. His family, as you both said. So I'm begging you—please take care of Sasuke in the future."
He swallowed against the blood in his throat.
"Sasuke's temper is quite reckless. He acts on emotion, throws himself into situations without thinking them through completely. He needs someone stable beside him. Someone strong enough to protect him when he's too stubborn to protect himself."
Naruto glanced at Itachi, studying the bloody, eyeless face. The legendary Itachi Uchiha, S-rank missing-nin, killer of his own clan, reduced to begging for his brother's safety.
A person like Itachi would never beg anyone for anything, Naruto thought. Unless it's for Sasuke. For his little brother, he doesn't care about pride or dignity or anything else.
Not that Naruto needed to be asked. He'd already decided long ago to protect Sasuke, to stand by him no matter what came. They were family, after all. Not by blood, but by choice, which made it even stronger.
Still, he nodded, giving Itachi the reassurance he needed.
"Don't worry," Naruto said firmly. "Sasuke is my friend and my family. I'll take care of him."
The promise was simple, unadorned, but carried absolute conviction.
Hearing those words, Itachi's face relaxed. The tension in his shoulders eased. A look of profound relief washed over his features, making him appear almost peaceful despite the horror of his empty eye sockets.
Naruto's promise is worth everything, Itachi thought. If he's agreed to protect Sasuke, then in all of Konoha Village, in the entire shinobi world, no one will be able to hurt my brother. He's too strong. Too capable. Too dedicated.
The weight that had pressed on Itachi's chest for five years seemed to lift, just slightly. Not gone, never truly gone, but... bearable.
He turned his head back toward Sasuke, orienting by sound and memory. His mouth opened, words forming and dying unspoken on his lips. There was so much he wanted to say, so many things left unsaid between them.
But in the end, only one question truly mattered.
"Sasuke," Itachi asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Will you forgive your brother?"
The words trembled in the air between them, fragile as spider silk, heavy as mountains.
Sasuke looked at Itachi with cold eyes. The Sharingan in his gaze spun slowly, three tomoe in each eye recording every detail of this moment.
He shook his head.
"No," Sasuke said flatly. "I won't forgive you."
Itachi flinched as if struck.
"I'm not qualified to forgive you," Sasuke continued, his voice hard as iron. "That's not my place. That's not my right."
He gestured sharply with the Kusanagi blade, the movement angry, frustrated.
"You need to ask Father and Mother if they forgive you. Ask all our dead clansmen. See if they'll grant you absolution for what you did to them."
Sasuke's voice rose slightly.
"I'm not qualified to forgive you on their behalf. Don't think you can win my sympathy or forgiveness by dying. That's just another form of your self-righteousness."
He took a step forward, and his voice became even colder.
"Yes, death is the best result for you, isn't it? The easiest solution. You did such terrible things, made such impossible choices, and now death offers relief. An escape."
Sasuke's hands clenched into fists.
"You get to be relieved. Released from guilt and pain and regret. But what about me?" His voice cracked slightly. "I still have to live. I have to carry the pain of my parents' deaths, my clan's destruction. And now I have to carry the pain of your death too. Your choice, your sacrifice, your self-destruction—all of it becomes another burden I have to bear."
The accusation hit Itachi like a kunai between the ribs.
"Hehe..." The laugh that escaped Itachi's lips was hollow, devoid of any real humor. Just a sound of helpless self-recognition. "You're right. I should have realized this would be your answer."
His shoulders sagged slightly.
"I'm sorry, Sasuke. I was too young back then. My thinking was incomplete, limited, immature. I caused you irreparable harm through my choices." Itachi's voice grew quieter. "If I'd been older, more experienced, had the knowledge I have now... maybe I could have found a more secure way to handle everything. A more thoughtful solution that wouldn't have destroyed so many lives."
He drew a shaky breath.
"I won't ask for your forgiveness anymore," Itachi said, and there was acceptance in his tone now. Resignation. "I don't deserve it. But please, Sasuke, accept these eyes."
He extended his hands again, the Mangekyō Sharingan still resting in his bloody palms.
"Even if you don't want them, even if they disgust you, please take them. Let it be my atonement. The last thing I can do to make up for what I've destroyed." Itachi's voice became pleading again. "If you don't accept them, I truly will die with regret. This is all I have left to give you."
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. This wasn't manipulation or control. Just desperate, genuine desire to leave something useful behind.
"You've already lost your eyes," Sasuke pointed out, his voice still cold but with an undertone of something else. Something that might have been pain. "You're going to die regardless."
The words were brutal in their honesty. Itachi felt them like a physical blow, suffocating in their accuracy.
I didn't expect Sasuke to counter like that, Itachi thought, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it. My own brother, stabbing me in the back with words even as I'm literally dying.
The two brothers stood locked in their stubborn positions, neither willing to give ground. Itachi extending the eyes in offering. Sasuke refusing to accept them. Both trapped in their own forms of pride and pain.
Naruto watched the standoff with knowing eyes. He understood Sasuke's temperament intimately after years of friendship, of living together, of becoming family.
Sasuke has already forgiven Itachi in his heart, Naruto realized. He forgave him the moment he heard the full truth. But Sasuke is fundamentally tsundere. He'll never actually say it out loud.
Naruto remembered his own friendship with Sasuke, how difficult it had been to break through that prickly exterior. How Sasuke had insisted on fighting three separate times before finally agreeing to become friends, even though he'd clearly wanted the friendship from the start.
Some things never change, Naruto thought with a mental sigh.
As Sasuke's friend, as his family, Naruto decided it was time to be the catalyst. To push these stubborn brothers past their deadlock so Itachi could die at peace and Sasuke could move forward without additional regret.
Naruto moved suddenly, crossing the distance between himself and Itachi in two quick steps.
"Naruto, what are you—" Sasuke began, confusion replacing the cold anger on his face.
But Naruto had already picked up the Sharingan from Itachi's palms. The eyes were warm, slick with blood, still pulsing with residual chakra. The Mangekyō patterns spun lazily, hypnotic even in death.
Before Sasuke could react, before he could step back or raise his hands to defend himself, Naruto pressed the eyes directly against Sasuke's face.
"Wait—!" Sasuke's protest died in his throat.
Warmth spread across his closed eyelids. His own Sharingan, active from the emotional intensity of the conversation, responded instinctively. Power called to power. The three tomoe in each eye began to spin faster, unconsciously drawing in the massive ocular energy contained within Itachi's Mangekyō Sharingan.
Sasuke could feel it happening. Could sense his own strength increasing at a rapid, almost frightening pace. The pupil power flowing into him was immense, refined, crystallized through years of use and mastery. It merged with his own chakra, his own ocular abilities, transforming them into something greater.
Purer. More powerful. More complete.
The sensation was overwhelming. Like drinking lightning. Like absorbing the sun itself. Power flooded through his eyes, through his optic nerves, racing through his brain and down into his chakra network.
This is... Sasuke's thoughts fragmented, unable to process the magnitude of what was happening.
Itachi couldn't see what was happening, but he didn't need to. He could "hear" it in Sasuke's sudden silence, in the complete lack of resistance. His little brother wasn't fighting Naruto's action. Wasn't trying to pull away or reject the gift.
He's accepting them, Itachi realized, and a genuine smile curved his lips. The first real, unforced smile he'd worn in five years.
This means Sasuke has forgiven me in his heart. Not on behalf of everyone else, not absolving me of all guilt, but personally. For himself. He's forgiven his brother.
That was enough. More than enough. Everything Itachi could have hoped for in this impossible situation.