Chapter Text
Damn it.
He knew it couldn't be that easy.
He took off running again, leaving the not-Naruto blonde at the door.
He was lucky enough that on his first try there had been an idiot-looking blonde accompanied by an old man, so of course he couldn't get lucky twice and find Naruto with the Sannin Jiraiya.
Sasuke stops in the middle of the street, eyes roving over every inn. He can't waste any more time. He's already late. By the time he gets to Naruto, Itachi will surely be there.
Naruto's not strong enough.
Neither is he.
He won't be able to defend himself against Itachi, much less if he's unprepared and alone. Even more so if Itachi isn't alone.
(His brother doesn't surround himself with weak people.
With burdens.)
Itachi could've put him through so much in all the time it's taking him to find them.
If he hasn't tortured him with a genjutsu only, or worse – his Tsukuyomi. That'll be enough to take him down.
Just like him.
(And he's so tired. So, so tired, already.
He doesn't want to feel like this anymore.
He doesn't want to kill Itachi. Never has wanted to, not actually. He just wants to stop being in pain, he wants to stop being alone. He doesn't want the ghosts of his clan to haunt him anymore.
He wants his family back. His kind-hearted mother, who'd always patched him up. The father who finally saw him. The cousin that always made him laugh.
He really, really wants his—)
A surge of familiar chakra comes from nearby. It's apprehensive and shocked. Sasuke starts running as fast as he can towards it.
Naruto's fine.
Itachi hasn't done anything yet.
He can make it.
And he does, but just barely.
There's a huge blue-skinned shark-like person accompanying his brother, both wearing black coats covered in red clouds. The shark is pulling his huge sword out, clearly to strike Naruto down and the idiot is completely paralyzed.
He almost lost him.
He was almost too late. Again.
His brother notices him immediately. He doesn't turn around. Sasuke wouldn't be surprised if Itachi knew he was here the second he stepped foot inside the city. “Long time no see . . . Sasuke.”
He forgets all about them sharing blood. He has to put his feelings aside. He doesn't, doesn't hates him. (It hurts). “Uchiha Itachi . . .”
Finally, both Naruto and Itachi's companion notice him.
“My, my. Today is truly an unusual day,” shark man says as he turns his head to look at him. “To see not one, but two Sharingan. Twice, to boot.”
He musters all the negative feelings he's gone through during the exams, all the pain, the sadness, the hurt – channels it all to his voice when he speaks. “I will kill you!”
(He doesn't want to. It's all a lie. It's all fake. It's all—)
Naruto looks up at Itachi with wide eyes, realization dawning on him. Idiot. He truly hadn't realized who that was? Sasuke's eyebrow twitches downwards. His head might actually be empty.
The shark looks far too entertained. His eyes don't stray from him. “A Sharingan, and he looks an awful lot like you. Who is that kid, Itachi?”
Sasuke glares at him. The smile widens on his ugly face, sharp teeth in full display. It's not very intimidating.
“He's . . . my kid brother.” Did Itachi just hesitate?
Itachi has always been a steadfast presence, never one to falter in the face of high authority nor blame. He's always stood strong by his beliefs.
Hesitation just isn't something he does.
Sasuke quickly shifts his eyes to Naruto. He frowns at the blonde in disbelief. Why does he look surprised!?
Sasuke goes back to glaring at Itachi's partner in (future) crime, so he doesn't do something stupid like reveal his true feelings in this situation by ignoring the S-ranked criminals in front of him and hitting Naruto.
And he's our future Hokage?
The shark laughs a little. “That's funny, ‘cause the whole Uchiha clan was wiped out, the way I heard it. By you.”
His brother gives no reaction. But even after all these years, Sasuke knows him. Knows his chakra signature (it used to be so warm and welcoming, now it's cold and empty) like the palm of his hand.
(And Itachi his.)
He feels his brother's chakra give the tiniest ripple, before it becomes frozen again.
Itachi finally turns around. He swallows at the sight of those red red red eyes that follow him in every dream, in every nightmare, whenever he looks in the mirror.
He's tired.
He misses him.
I want him back.
Sasuke shuts his thoughts out. Clears his mind, leaves his brain an empty slate. He can't falter. Both him and Naruto are in danger.
He scowls (it is not forced who is he trying to convince?) and rushes forward. Chidori sparks in his arm, crackling and chirping, peeling away his skin.
It burns, and burns, and burns.
(Not as much as his heart.)
Three seconds later, there's a huge hole on the wall to his left, his arm is facing away from his body, and Itachi's hand has a bruising grip on his forearm.
He glares.
His brother has always been too strong.
Too big.
Too smart.
(Too amazing. He's always been incredible.)
He's never stood a chance.
Naruto's chakra spikes, just as it did during their mission in Waves. The nine-tails coming to the surface in order to save him.
Just like in Waves.
“You're in the way,” his brother says, looking at Naruto covered in bright orange.
His heart stutters at Itachi's words, but he doesn't have time to concentrate on that, because the grip on his arm tightens painfully, and it gets slammed on the floor.
He wouldn't be able to hold in the yell even if he'd tried.
“Sasuke!” Naruto exclaims, eyes wide and so worried, an exact replica of the Waves mission.
This is like an exact replay.
Him, getting beaten.
Naruto, worrying about him and losing control to save him.
He grits his teeth.
Why is he so fucking weak?
Fuck.
His father was right.
What happens next, happens in a matter of two quick minutes – the shark's sword, Samehada, cuts through Naruto's chakra, ridding him of his power and nullifying his summoning jutsu. Then a giant frog appears in front of Naruto, blocking the sword's downward slash, and Sannin Jiraiya appears with a woman (? the hell) slung over his shoulder behind Naruto.
Itachi releases his arm, and he slumps to the ground. His whole body's buzzing with the quick on and off of the chidori, parts of his skin flared open, red and stinging.
Jiraiya and Naruto start bickering, voices loud and accusing, uncaring of the two people inside the hallway that currently wants them both (and him) dead. He doesn't care to listen to what they're saying – his body is aching everywhere.
He just wants to pass out, finally.
(He wants to be back in his bed, years ago, when he'd be woken up by the teasing voice of his mom saying he'd slept long enough when he'd tried to wrap himself tighter inside his blanket.)
But he can't.
He can't give up.
He can't let Itachi take Naruto.
He drags his body upwards.
His whole body's trembling, nerves buzzing with the aftermath of attempting to use the Chidori so strongly, a slight sway to his form, but he stays upright.
“Stay out of this,” he rasps. The words are directed to Naruto and the Sannin. His throat itches. He pushes through. “The only one . . . who'll do any eliminating . . . is me!”
“Go away. I have absolutely no interest in you,” his brother betrays nothing with his voice.
(Something inside his chest cracks a little. It's not his bones.)
He doesn't get the chance to brace himself before Itachi kicks him in the stomach, and he flies to the wall in the far back. His back slams painfully against the hard cement.
He drops to the ground with a groan.
(The kick and the impact combined hurts less than the feeling in his chest.)
“Sasuke!!”
“Naruto. Don't butt in . . . mind your own business!” He manages to snap. Naruto visibly restrains himself from running forward.
(Why does the blonde care so much about him?)
“This is my fight!”
He can feel blood bubbling up his throat, it makes it hard to breathe. He clamps his mouth shut. Thick liquid dribbles down the sides of his mouth anyways, copper filling his mouth.
He keeps breathing through his nose, his left hand shaking so hard he's sure everyone can see it. He can't stop it.
Socked feet stop in front of him, then a punch lands in his stomach.
He gasps, choking on his blood, then coughing it up afterwards. It decorates Itachi's cloak with more red, uneven splatters staining the black fabric.
He doubles over, black eyes wide as they start burning. It has nothing to do with the pain. An elbow smacks him on the back of his head. He stumbles forward, breath stuck on his chest. A knee flashes in his darkening vision, then his head is flying backwards, his chin throbbing after the hit.
Bile rises in his throat.
The hits continue.
Blood runs steadily down his mouth, staining his blue shirt. It turns a dark purple. There's blood pooling on the ground, beneath Itachi's feet. There's blood on his brother's cheeks. There's a dark smear on his own knees from where he crashes on the ground.
His left arm is numbing. His back is hurting. His chin is pulsing unevenly with bursts of pain. His stomach is rolling, nausea traveling up his throat. His vision is darkening at the edges. His chest feels like it's cracking open.
And it's all his big brother's doing.
Itachi grips his throat, lifting his limp body against the cracked wall.
It's too much.
His esophagus feels like it's closing up.
His chin, his arm, his nose, his stomach, his throat, his chest, his eyes – it's all aching, a deep burning sensation rising steadily until it overcomes everything else.
He can't stop it.
He doesn't want to.
He stops fighting it. Lets his true feelings bubble over and overflow.
His brother looks at him, dark eyes cold and hard and unfeeling—
It's the last straw.
His mouth trembles, and before he knows it . . . tears.
Horrible, stinging tears.
They gather in his eyes and spill over, running down his cheeks, washing away the blood and dirt while simultaneously mixing with them. He's sure his face looks a mess.
He can't bring himself to care.
He knows what his brother's next move was, what he will do next.
And he hurts.
Knowing Itachi is going to trap him inside that hellish place. Inside him own mind for hours on end watching his mom, dad, cousins, aunts, uncles die over and over and over again.
Watching blood splattering on the streets, the walls, his face, his clothes. Hearing the screams and pleads to stop.
Replaying in an endless loop that continues even after he wakes up how he loses everything—
It's so painful, knowing how Itachi can do this to him and not care.
He gasps, more blood splurting out as he coughs against the grip on his throat. He cries and cries and sobs – feelings and tears spilling out and stripping him of all defenses.
It's ugly, it's loud, it's real and he can't stop it. He grabs at him brother's wrist weakly, heart clenching painfully when met with Itachi's blank stare.
His strength to fight fully leaves him. His tears fall, fall, fall, and fall.
They leave him bare for everyone to watch as he unravels beneath his brother's punishing gaze.
He doesn't want to fight anymore.
He doesn't want to kill.
He just wants to go back.
He sniffles, snot running down his nose as he stares with glossy black eyes at his big brother's bloody (his blood) face. Itachi's eyes are wide and red, black marks spinning steadily.
“N—nii-san…” Gods it's been years since that word left his mouth.
(Still bodies, black sky, red streets, red walls, red clothes, it's all redredred—)
He sees Itachi's throat jump, breath hitching.
He can feel everyone's eyes on him.
He doesn't care.
He just wants to stop hurting.
He wants to stop being alone.
He wants to stop needing to be strong all the time.
He just wants it to stop.
“Nii-san,” he gasps, choking on his blood. Red flies out on his next exhale. “Please.”
It's all so painful and he's never understood why. Why did his brother change so drastically in a manner of hours? Why did his brother torture him so much? Why did he abandon him?
“I never loved you.”
Why?
“It was all a lie. You're so naive.”
Why?
“You're weak.”
Nii-san. . . why!?
“You're in the way.”
“I have no interest in you.”
Why, why, why?
I just want it to stop, onii-san.
Sasuke sobs, his whole chest rattling with it. His breathing comes hard and fast. “Stop. Stop, please.”
The entire hallway’s gone silent. Naruto's chakra is a hurricane of emotions – anger, sadness, empathy, pity, sorrow. It only spurs him on.
“Nii-san, stop. Please, stop it,” he begs.
Itachi looks frozen. His eyes are red, bright damning red, but there's no black. Not anymore.
Sasuke cries.
He cries for the pain.
He cries for the family he lost.
He cries for the child he'd once been.
He cries for the brother he lost.
He cries, and cries, and cries because there's nothing else he can do.
His whole body trembles with the force of his sobs, vision tunneling even more. His breath shortens, his chest tightens, his throat closes up.
“Nii-san, please. It hurts. Make it stop, I just want it to stop. It's so painful—Itachi.”
He feels lightheaded, body shutting down. His hands fall down to his sides limply from where he'd been grasping at Itachi's forearm.
He takes one last look at his brother – hair disheveled, mouth open, eyes shifting through too many emotions. He looks haunted.
“Nii-san,” he gives one last aborted sob before his eyes close – skin red around them, eyelids puffy and inflamed. Blood still runs down his lip, dripping to the floor.
(He just wanted the big brother who gave him piggyback rides knowing about his fake injuries. The brother who didn’t miss a single academy event. The brother who read to him and tucked him in every time.
He misses him.)
Two people yell his name from far away, but the last thing he hears before losing consciousness is nii-san's frantic, panicked, whispered, “Sasuke—!!”
Hands lower Sasuke's unconscious body to the ground with long-forgotten softness.
Blood still runs past Sasuke's lips. His cheek, his body, his hair – it all gets stained with the familiar color of death and pain.