Fugaku tried to dodge, but the boulder flew too fast, slamming into the ground at his left. He grunted, wincing as it scraped his shoulder and tore away part of his shirt and skin.

Shit! Almost out of chakra, too.

He scanned the training ground. Where'd she go? A blade at his throat answered his question.

"It's over."

Fugaku grinned. "Is it?" Sharingan anticipating her movements, he grabbed her wrist and kneed her in the stomach, dispelling the clone.

"She'll try to run now." He could hear foliage rustling, moving northeast across the field. With a deep breath, he readied a Katon, projected her path, and unleashed the Grand Fireball. Leaping out of hiding, he followed behind the blaze, ready to take her down at her weakest moment.

When the field cleared, he found her, the steam from her Suiton still hissing in the air. Smugly, he blinked his eyes to black. "You should've known better than to challenge me."

"I suppose I should've." She smiled, making the hairs on Fugaku's neck rise and his eyes glow red. The world slowed as her water clone frowned and splashed into oblivion. His hand shot out, grabbing the kunai from her real hand, less than an inch from his back. He flipped her over and pinned her to the ground with the force of his body.

Nose to nose, he could feel her gasping breath across his face, her whole body rising and falling against his as she struggled. "You should've known better than to leave this decision to a battle, Mikoto." Fugaku pressed himself harder against her. "Now, you have to marry me."

Her hands slipped from his grip to wind around his neck, pulling him in for a frenzied kiss. "No, Fugaku. I want to."

He clutched at her hips. She'll be the perfect wife. Mikoto was a Jounin kunoichi, darkly beautiful, and undeniably brilliant.

And most of all, he did not love her.

When the first, black commas appeared in his eyes, Fugaku was struck with fear. Despite all his efforts, his Sharingan had emerged.

"Take care, son," his father warned. "Your eyes…they are the evidence of our cursed clan. Harden your heart."

Fugaku heeded his father's advice, performing his duties as teammate and officer to the letter. When the time came to assume his role as head of the Uchiha clan, he stepped into that with the same clinical efficiency. Now, he was Police Chief, husband, and about to become a father.

"Uchiha-san," the nurse said with a beaming smile, "you have a strong, healthy son." She held out the blanketed baby for him to hold.

Fugaku crossed his arms. "His name is Itachi."

The nurse looked horrified. "You can't mean that, Uchiha-san. Such a fine boy shouldn't have to live with a name like—"

"I said his name is Itachi." Dark clouds had gathered over his mind and heart since Mikoto told him they would have a baby. He'd been successful in closing himself off during their first few years of their marriage. But now…

He's a bad omen. Fugaku wanted no part of his son's upbringing. He would not cradle and tickle his infant, nor would he clap with joy at his first steps. He would provide and instruct him in the ways of Uchiha. Nothing more.

On Itachi's first birthday, he was presented to the clan. Mikoto worked all year on his presentation kimono. Pale blue silk was skillfully embroidered with bamboo trees surrounding a mountain. When she handed the baby to Fugaku for the ceremony, she stared hard into his eyes, making sure he understood every symbol she'd stitched into the outfit—blue for the placidity of water, the mountain for powerful, enduring strength, and bamboo for its ability to bend, but not break. She let her husband know that she would imbue their son with the capacity to withstand his cold nature, to survive being an Uchiha. He cursed himself for selecting a sharp-minded wife.

The entire clan hushed, waiting for their leader to speak. Itachi wriggled in his arms and Fugaku realized this was the first time he'd held his son.

"Harden your heart."

He cleared his throat and began a well-rehearsed speech about the next generation of Uchiha, not hearing a word. After a round of applause, he held his arms out to his wife, but Itachi gripped Fugaku's haori.

"Okay, Itachi," Mikoto cooed as she pried his tiny hands off his father's jacket. "Come on. Back to Mommy."

"Looks like he loves his dad." Teyaki grinned and slapped Fugaku on the back. "You must dote on him. Here you go, Itachi." He extended a senbei cracker, but the boy held firm.

Fugaku's heart began to thump loudly in his ears. Itachi howled when his mother tried to take him, nuzzling his soft, warm cheeks into his father's neck.

"Harden your heart."

With an effort, he wrested the boy away, holding him out to Mikoto. Sharp pains shot through his skull. Dizzy, Fugaku put a hand over his eyes.

"Hey, Chief…you okay?"

He mumbled something about the heat of the room, the excitement of the day, and stumbled to a chair. Over his mother's shoulder, Itachi reached out to him, crying. Minute sparks of sunlight reflected in each tear rolling down Itachi's face.

"Harden your heart."

"Come on, Sasuke. Time for your nap."

Fugaku stood silent on the shadowy porch outside Sasuke's bedroom, listening.

"Don't want to."

"Come on, now. Don't be like that. Mr. Dinosaur is sleepy. He needs his rest."

Sasuke giggled.

"That's it, climb up. If you take a good nap, we'll play hide and seek later."

"Promise?"

Leaning in to peek at the two boys, Fugaku drew back suddenly when Itachi's eyes flicked from his little brother to the window.

"I promise, Sasuke."

Swallowing hard, he shook his head. I didn't see it. I didn't.

But he couldn't deny the hint of red in his eldest son's eyes.

A light film of sweat slicked Fugaku's palms as he waited in the Hokage's office. He knows nothing. We've been discreet.

Konoha's main streets radiated from the hub of Hokage Tower like rays of the sun. The enormous picture windows afforded an unparalleled view of the city and its inhabitants. Shading his eyes from the afternoon's glare, he watched the Leaf buzz with life.

This should've been our view. An Uchiha's view. His hands curled into fists.

Fugaku had to angle his head severely in order to catch a glimpse of the Uchiha district. Even then, he could only see the tallest building there. The prison.

That's our view. We see the village that was founded on our backs through barred windows. The Senju have underestimated our warrior blood, though, he sneered. We're as proud of the fan on our backs as we once were of the swirling leaf of Konoha. He walked away from the window, settling back into a chair to wait. Soon, it'll be our turn to rule.

"Fugaku. Sorry to keep you." Sarutobi Hiruzen moved behind his desk, his pipe leaving a trail of blue smoke in his wake.

"Not at all, Hokage-sama." A tight smile strained his face.

"You're wondering why I've asked you here, eh?" He shuffled some papers and puffed, the embers of his tobacco glowing red. "I know you're a busy man, so I'll get to the point. It's about Itachi."

"Itachi?"

"Yes. A fine boy you've got there. He's excelled in ANBU. Outstanding shinobi." He leaned further across the desk, holding Fugaku's eyes with his own. "I'd like to promote him to captain."

"Captain?" His heart thumped faster.

"I know what you're going to say. He's only thirteen. As his father, I can imagine your concern. But rest assured," Sarutobi said, punctuating each word with a gesture of his pipe, "Itachi is pure Uchiha."

Fugaku was silent for several moments. This was the break the clan had been waiting for—a pipeline directly linked to the Hokage's office. Itachi was now not only a member of the ANBU elite, but his son would soon become a trusted leader in service to the Sandaime.

His son.

Fugaku crossed to the windows, the streets of Konoha taking on a new brightness. Every face of every person, every nail holding together each building, every mote of dust wafting through the air came into a sharp focus.

"You're right, Hokage-sama." His heart swelled inside his ribs. "My son is pure Uchiha."

Fugaku began taking Itachi with him to secret meetings, explaining how he was being groomed to protect and care for the clan when his father was no longer able. He was resistant at first. His loyalty is admirable, but misplaced.

"You want Sasuke to grow up a proud Uchiha?"

Shoulders slumping, Itachi responded, "Of course."

"Itachi, you are Uchiha and ANBU. You understand what it means to live in the shadows, to do the work no one else wants to do—the work no one else can do—in order to protect those who live in the sunlight." He put a hand on his son's shoulder, gripping affectionately. "You want Sasuke to grow up in the light, don't you?"

Itachi nodded.

"Then help me make a better future for him. You've seen his Academy grades. Who knows? Your brother might be talented enough to be Hokage one day. We need to make sure they let him. We need to make sure the village will accept an Uchiha as their leader. You'll help me do that?"

Again, Itachi nodded.

Fugaku folded his arms, satisfied. "As expected from my son."

"You hold onto useless things. Your clan! Your name!"

Itachi's shouts carried down the street. Panic stabbed Fugaku in the gut as he turned the corner to see his son standing over three injured clansmen.

"These things deserve to be shunned!"

"Itachi! STOP!" The red of his son's Sharingan glared back at him. "What are you doing?! Why didn't you come to the meeting last night?" Fugaku saw something distant in his unblinking eyes. "Why are you acting so strange?"

Knuckles white, Itachi's arm shot out rigidly, a kunai thunking deep into solid concrete, cleaving the painted Uchiha symbol in two. "I have lost all hope for this pathetic clan."

Lost? He's lost. In that moment, Fugaku saw his dreams of a glorious future for the clan fading away. We're all lost.

Weak and desperate, he held his empty hands out. "So, what now?" Around him, clansmen were calling out for his arrest, but Fugaku barely heard.

"Stop, brother!"

Compelled by Sasuke's voice, Itachi dropped to his knees and pressed his face into the dirt. "For the words I have spoken, I'm deeply sorry."

When the red receded from his son's eyes, Fugaku deflated. He mumbled through apologies, begging to be allowed to take care of Itachi on his own. The head of the Uchiha clan. Groveling. Shame sickened him. "Let's go inside."

He shuffled past Sasuke, trembling in the hall.

"Father. The jutsu. I've worked it out. I'd like you to come see."

This is hopeless. Fugaku's spirit dwindled. His vision of making right all the wrongs inflicted on the Uchiha for generations evaporated when Itachi closed himself off to the clan. No one can follow in his shadow.

Sasuke's small feet bounded across the dock, his hands slapping through seals. With a sharp inhale, he reared back and exhaled fire. It curled and cracked, swirling into an enormous sphere that raged across the lake, lighting up Fugaku's surprised face.

His fingers twitched against folded arms, longing to ruffle his youngest son's hair. Pushing the instinct down, he turned his back and walked away. When he heard Sasuke dejectedly scuff the dock, words fell from his mouth.

"As expected from my son."

My son. My last hope. Fugaku fought the urge to smile. "You did well, Sasuke. You may now proudly wear the Uchiha crest and soar to great heights."

"Okay!"

"But I will say one thing…do not follow your brother."

Beside him, Mikoto gasped. She's sensed him, too. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and squeezed as Itachi landed behind them with a soft thud.

"So, you've joined their side." No shocking jolt came with that statement. Fugaku watched for months as Itachi slipped through his fingers.

"Father. Mother, I—"

"We know, Itachi." Mikoto's voice was soft and steady, comforting the son who held a blade at her back. In his, her hand trembled.

This is your mistake. You know that. Fugaku almost laughed. Your wife is smart. She knows this is your fault, too. He glanced at her regal profile. Stoic, strong, and very Uchiha in her dying moments. He squeezed her hand again, hoping she also knew how sorry he was.

Before Itachi's sword burst through her chest, she squeezed back.

He continued to clutch her hand as she fell forward, lifeless. "The way we think is different, Itachi, but I'm still proud of you." He heard his son's strangled sob before the blade shot through him as well.

Suddenly, the room shifted. The katana in front of him glowed in the moonlight. He could see individual drops of blood glistening as they dripped from the sword's point like falling rubies. Immense power swelled and slowly ebbed as Fugaku slid off the blade.

"As expected from my son."

So, it was really interesting to stray from my usual SasuSaku story to get inside Fugaku's head. I feel like I look at the manga differently now. Not that I don't think Fugaku was blameless or a great guy, but I understand his motivation a little better. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know what you think.

As always, I have Unicorn Paige to thank for unending encouragement and a keen sense of what makes a good story. I'd be lost without you, Paige! I'll make you some Naked Monkey Bread as a sacrificial offering.