"Itachi, why couldn't you wait to eat one fried egg before leaving?"
The words tore from Sasuke's throat again, raw and broken. His composure shattered completely, like glass under a hammer. Moisture filled his eyes, blurring his vision until tears spilled over, tracking down his cheeks in silent rivers of grief.
He staggered forward, legs unsteady, until he stood directly over Itachi's body.
The blood that had flowed from Itachi's cheeks, from the corners of his mouth, from the empty sockets where his eyes had been—all of it had already solidified. Dark and rust-colored against pale skin. The face looked frightening without eyes, the empty holes somehow making Itachi seem less than human.
But beneath the horror, Sasuke could still see something else. Something that cut through the grotesque imagery and touched his heart.
Peace.
Despite everything, despite the violent end and the blood and the emptiness, Itachi's expression was peaceful. His mouth curved just slightly at the corners, not quite a smile but something close. The tension that had marked his features for five years had melted away, leaving behind only serenity.
He walked peacefully into death, Sasuke realized, and somehow that made it worse. He's at peace now. He has no more regrets.
And why would he have regrets? Naruto was here. Naruto would make sure Sasuke lived well, stayed safe, became strong. Itachi didn't need to worry anymore. Could finally let go of the burden he'd carried for so long.
But what about me? Sasuke thought desperately. What about what I need? Did you even think about that?
Naruto approached quietly, his footsteps soft on the grass. He placed a hand on Sasuke's shoulder, the weight warm and grounding. "Sasuke, listen to what Itachi-san told you. You must live well. That's what he wanted most."
"I'll live well," Sasuke managed to say, voice thick with tears. He nodded, the motion jerky and uncoordinated. "I promise. I will."
Then, moving with careful reverence, Sasuke bent down and gathered Itachi's body into his arms. His brother was surprisingly light, as if death had already taken some essential weight from him. Sasuke held him close, one arm beneath Itachi's shoulders, the other under his knees, cradling him the way Itachi used to carry him when he was small and had fallen asleep reading.
"Sasuke," Naruto asked gently as Sasuke took his first steps forward, "are you going to bury Itachi-san in the Uchiha clan cemetery?"
It was the logical place. Where their parents rested. Where the clan had been laid to rest after that terrible night. The traditional burial ground that had served the Uchiha for generations.
But Sasuke shook his head immediately. He looked down at Itachi's peaceful face, at the brother who'd sacrificed everything, and his voice came out barely above a whisper.
"No. My brother wouldn't be comfortable there. Even in death, he'd have no face to meet our parents and clansmen, would he?"
The words held profound sadness. Itachi had made his choice to save Sasuke, but that choice came with eternal consequences. How could he rest peacefully among the very people whose lives he'd ended? Even understanding the impossible situation, even knowing there had been no good options, the blood remained on Itachi's hands.
Naruto thought about it and found himself agreeing. What a tragedy, he reflected. A mistake that can never be repented in this life. No second chances. No opportunities to make amends.
"Then where are you taking him?" Naruto asked.
A place flashed through Sasuke's mind with perfect clarity. A meadow where the sunset painted everything gold. Where dandelions grew in wild profusion, their white seeds catching the light like snow. Where two figures, one tall and one small, had chased each other laughing, where joy had existed before tragedy crushed it.
Thinking about that place, a smile broke through the tears on Sasuke's face. Small and sad, but genuine.
"I want to take my brother to a beautiful place," Sasuke said softly. "Somewhere he'll like. Somewhere he was happy."
His voice strengthened slightly with conviction.
"Yes. Brother will definitely like it there."
Sasuke's gaze shifted, scanning their surroundings until it landed on something lying on its side near the road. The streetlamp. The one Itachi had stood on countless times, waiting for Sasuke to come home from the Academy. The one he'd carried on his back when returning to Konoha. The one that had become, in its strange way, a symbol of all those patient hours of brotherly devotion.
"Naruto," Sasuke said, turning to look at his friend. "Help me bring the streetlamp. That lamp has been with my brother his whole life. I'm afraid when he goes down below, he'll have nowhere to stand."
The request might have seemed absurd under other circumstances. But Naruto understood immediately. He nodded without hesitation, walked to where the streetlamp lay, and hoisted it onto his back. The metal pole was heavy, awkward to carry, but Naruto managed it without complaint.
Together, they set off through the abandoned Uchiha compound.
The silence between them was profound. Not uncomfortable, but weighted with grief and memory. Their footsteps echoed off empty buildings where families had once lived, where children had played, where life had flourished before one terrible night extinguished it all.
Soon, an empty meadow appeared before them.
The dandelions hadn't bloomed yet—it was the wrong season. Only green seedlings covered the ground, promising future beauty but unable to deliver it now. They walked through the young plants carefully, treating them with respect, until they reached a series of small, gentle slopes at the meadow's edge.
"In the past, when Brother and I got tired from playing, we'd lie on this slope," Sasuke said, his voice distant with memory. "We'd watch dandelions flying all over the sky like snow, and watch the warm sunshine fill everything with gold."
He stopped at a particular spot, one that clearly held significance even if it looked the same as any other patch of grass.
At that moment, the sun was setting. The afterglow painted the sky in shades of orange and pink and deep crimson. The light spilled across the land, coating earth and grass and the two young men standing there with what looked like liquid gold. Everything gleamed, beautiful and bittersweet.
The only regret was the absence of dandelions. No white seeds floating on the breeze to send Itachi off properly. The meadow stood empty of that particular magic.
Naruto pressed his lips together and remained silent. At times like this, any comfort he could offer would be useless. Inadequate. Some griefs were too profound for words.
Sasuke knelt carefully, placing Itachi's body on the soft grass with infinite gentleness. He arranged his brother's limbs so they lay naturally, straightened the blood-stained Akatsuki cloak, smoothed back the dark hair. Every movement was tender, reverent.
Then Sasuke began to dig.
There were no tools available. No shovels or spades. Ninjutsu seemed disrespectful somehow, too impersonal for this task. So Sasuke used his hands, sinking his fingers into the soft earth and pulling it aside.
The grass made the ground relatively easy to penetrate, but it was still hard work. After several minutes, Naruto noticed blood on Sasuke's hands. The soil had abraded his palms and fingers, wearing through skin until red seeped between his knuckles.
Naruto immediately set down the streetlamp, placing it carefully beside Itachi's body.
With the lamp nearby, Itachi-san should feel more at ease, Naruto thought. Like he has his familiar perch even in death.
Then Naruto dropped to his knees and began helping Sasuke dig.
Naruto's strength made him exceptionally useful for this grim task. His hands moved faster than Sasuke's, pulling away larger clumps of earth with each scoop. He dug with focused efficiency, creating a proper grave with surprising speed.
Sasuke raised his eyes and glanced at Naruto. Gratitude shone in that look, wordless but profound. Then he bowed his head and continued working alongside his friend.
With Naruto's participation, they quickly excavated a hole two meters long, one meter wide, and one meter deep. Adequate dimensions for a final resting place.
After finishing, Sasuke climbed out of the pit and moved to Itachi's side. He reached down, touching his brother's face with both hands. The skin was already growing cold. The warmth that had animated this flesh was gone forever.
Tears fell silently again, dropping onto Itachi's peaceful expression.
"Let Itachi-san rest in peace," Naruto said gently, seeing Sasuke's prolonged grief. He felt sad too—Itachi's story was tragic beyond words—but this couldn't continue indefinitely. "The weather is hot now. It's not good for his body to remain above ground much longer."
The practical concern cut through Sasuke's fog of emotion. Naruto was right. However much Sasuke wanted to hold onto this moment, to delay the finality of burial, he needed to maintain some rationality. For Itachi's sake.
"Yeah." Sasuke nodded slightly, the motion barely perceptible.
He climbed back into the pit carefully, then lifted Itachi's body with infinite care. Lowered it down into the earth. Arranged it neatly, making sure Itachi lay straight and comfortable. Adjusted the Akatsaki cloak one final time, folding the fabric so it covered properly.
Only then did Sasuke climb back out.
"You should drop the first three handfuls of soil," Naruto said quietly. "It's tradition. For the closest family member."
Sasuke nodded. Of course. As Itachi's younger brother, as the only remaining immediate family, this responsibility fell to him.
He took one last long look at Itachi's face. Memorized every detail—the sharp features, the peaceful expression, the way his brother looked finally freed from all burdens.
Then Sasuke bent down and scooped up earth with both hands.
The first handful fell with a soft pattering sound. "Brother, have a good journey," Sasuke whispered.
The second handful followed. "Brother, watch me from wherever you are. I'll live well. I promise."
The third handful dropped, and Sasuke's vision blurred completely with tears. He couldn't speak this time. Could only let the soil fall and hope Itachi understood everything left unsaid.
After the traditional three handfuls, Naruto took over. He began scraping earth into the grave with steady, methodical movements. Soon Itachi's body disappeared beneath soil. Gradually invisible. The mound grew higher and higher until it formed a proper burial rise.
Partway through, Naruto activated his Instantaneous Movement technique and vanished in a blur of speed.
When he returned moments later, he carried a flat stone tablet in his hands. He passed it to Sasuke without comment.
Sasuke accepted the tablet, drew the Kusanagi sword from its sheath, and began carving. The blade bit into stone with each stroke, creating characters that would endure.
The tomb of elder brother Itachi. Erected by younger brother Sasuke.
Simple. Direct. No elaborate poetry or formal titles. Just the essential truth of their relationship.
Maybe Brother didn't want his death known by others anyway, Sasuke thought as he placed the finished stone marker at the head of the grave. This way is better. Private. Just between us.
Then Sasuke turned his attention to the streetlamp.
"The streetlamp should stand beside him," Sasuke murmured, more to himself than to Naruto. "So Brother Itachi can stand on it. So he can see toward the farm. So he can watch over me..."
The logic was strange but somehow perfect. Sasuke dug another hole next to the grave, this one smaller and shallower. He positioned the streetlamp upright, packing soil around its base until it stood firm and straight.
A grave with its own streetlamp. A place where Itachi could maintain his vigil even in death.
Then silence descended, long and heavy.
Sasuke knelt before the grave, sitting back on his heels in the formal position. He didn't speak. Didn't move. Just existed in that space, while scenes played through his mind like frames from a movie.
Memories of Itachi flickered past in vivid detail. The brother who'd taught him to throw shuriken. Who'd cooked breakfast before school. Who'd waited on streetlamps with infinite patience. Who'd ruffled his hair and flicked his forehead and called him foolish little brother with such affection.
The good memories, before everything turned to ash and blood.
Time behaved strangely. It passed both quickly and slowly, minutes feeling like hours while hours felt like seconds. The sun sank lower, painting the sky deeper shades of red and purple. Darkness crept in from the edges, swallowing the light.
Finally, when true night had fallen and stars had begun appearing overhead, Naruto spoke.
"Sasuke, let's go. We should head home." His voice was gentle but firm. "You can visit Brother Itachi again whenever you want. He'll be here."
Naruto helped Sasuke to his feet. Sasuke's legs had gone stiff from kneeling so long, nearly buckling under his weight. But with Naruto's support, he managed to stand.
Together, they turned away from the grave and walked toward the farm.
Kurama had prepared dinner hours ago.
It knew that Sasuke's brother Itachi had returned. Knew that Sasuke planned to seek his revenge. The fox had wanted to help somehow, to offer support or at least bear witness, but someone needed to stay behind and cook. Someone needed to maintain the farm.
And besides, with Naruto there, the Nine-Tails wasn't worried about Sasuke's safety. Naruto would handle whatever needed handling.
So the Nine-Tails had stood on its usual stone perch in the yard as evening fell, watching and waiting. Watching for Sasuke and Naruto to return home for dinner.
In the hazy darkness, the fox finally spotted two figures approaching. They moved slowly, supporting each other, their silhouettes barely visible against the night.
"Naruto! Uchiha boy!" the Nine-Tails called out loudly as they drew near enough to hear. "Did you kill Itachi?"
The question seemed reasonable. Sasuke had declared his intention to kill Itachi with his own hands more than once over the years. This should have been a moment of triumph.
But no answer came. And more tellingly, the Nine-Tails couldn't sense any emotion of joy or satisfaction from either approaching figure.
As they got closer, details became visible. Sasuke's face looked silent and withdrawn, marked by profound sadness. Dried tear tracks lined his cheeks, visible even in the dim light. Naruto's expression was serious, almost grim, his usual energy completely absent.
Things didn't go as simply as I imagined, the Nine-Tails realized with growing concern.
"Naruto, you don't need to support me," Sasuke said quietly after glancing at the Nine-Tails' frozen expression. He turned to look at Naruto. "I can walk by myself."
"Alright." Naruto released his grip on Sasuke's arm.
Sasuke walked straight toward the house, his back a study in bleakness. He moved like someone decades older than his twelve years, bowed under invisible weight. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
The Nine-Tails immediately jumped onto Naruto's shoulder, its voice dropping to a low whisper. "What happened? Itachi isn't dead yet?"
The question came with a note of hope—maybe that explained the somber mood.
Naruto shook his head slowly. "Itachi-san is dead."