AN: Buckle in your seatbelts, kiddos! We are in for a wild ride! For real though, prepare to have your heart broken. I almost cried. The next one is going to be even worse. Why are you still reading this? Do you guys like pain? Are you all masochists, like me? I'm sorry in advance.

Chapter 15: Full Circle

The chill that danced over my skin like the breath of a ghost signaled the end of the fair weather of the past weeks. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, the promise of a storm lingering in the air shadowed the world below into a damp gloom. The gravel of the road crunched under my feet as I made my way through the last of the small villages on the way to Konoha. Just a little further on, I would reach the expanse of sprawling forests that gave the village its name, "Hidden in the Leaves".

All around me, children were being ushered into their houses as their parents sent pensive looks upwards to the sky as if asking the clouds to hold back a little longer. Shopkeepers were closing up their market stalls, packing up their wares with a sense of urgency. As I passed a stall with straw hats lining the wooden roof, I paused.

"How much for a hat?" I asked the shopkeeper, a tall young man with a bushy ponytail and thick eyebrows. The man gave me a once-over as I pulled my wallet from my shoulder bag, "A hat won't do you much good in this weather. You need a place to spend the night. That's some storm brewing." Looking up from my wallet, I met his eyes mutely. Something in my cold expression must have changed his mind because he suddenly dropped his gaze and named the price.

I nodded, opening my wallet to pay him when I noticed something out of place. The money I had placed on the nightstand to repay Kakashi for my clothing had reappeared in my wallet. Kakashi must have replaced it, but when? I held the coins out to the shopkeeper who took them from me and handed me a large straw hat.

"It's going to be a bad one." The shopkeeper urged again, "I don't recommend travelling. If you don't have shelter, you can stay with me and my wife."

Securing the hat under my chin, I considered the man who offered me his hospitality. He meant well, I supposed. "That won't be a problem." At that moment, low thunder rumbled through the clouds. We looked up at the sky in unison. "Are you sure?" The shopkeeper asked again.

I nodded, not bothering to look at him. "These clouds might hold yet." I surmised. "And even if they don't…" Looking over my shoulder, I saw him watching me hesitantly. I nodded my thanks and turned to leave, "I've been through worse."

Sasuke extracted himself from his wife's embrace in the early hours of dawn. Rising to face the day, he felt an odd twinge in his heart as he watched Sakura curl into the empty space of the bed he had left behind, as if searching for his warmth. He gave her one last, lingering look before leaving the bedroom. He closed the door gently, noiselessly behind him.

Half an hour later, Uchiha Sasuke had slipped out of the house, leaving his family to their slumber. He made his way through the empty streets of the village. His footsteps were sure and soundless from years of training. The roads were paved with large blocks of white stone and were tinged the bluish-purple shade of early morning. Sasuke silently trudged forward, even after all these years, his right to roam the streets of this village still felt precarious, as if he were on probation.

He had never been one of them. As Naruto had been. As Sakura was, as she struggled to remain, despite being married to him now. Wary looks shadowed his steps, and frowns fixed on his retreating back. Rumors had always surrounded him, a favorite subject of gossip. The people of the village did not want their questions answered. They far preferred to make their own conclusions and debate the likeliness of their individual theories. Sasuke had not minded when he first returned, because there were others whose opinions mattered far more to him. Now, however, he knew that the war of whispers would rear its ugly head on Ichiro and Kanashimi, as it likely already had on Sakura.

Sasuke came to a clearing, a grassy field beyond the residential area of the village. Stepping forward on the rise of the hill, Sasuke looked out over the lush, green expanse interspersed with stone tablets rising up from the grass. The Jonin trudged forward, past the sign that said, "Konohagakure Graveyard". He picked his way past the headstones that meant nothing to him. Cutting forward single-mindedly, his gaze fixed, undeterred, on the marble headstone beneath a weeping willow. As Sasuke drew near, his steps slowed, like an uncertain child in the face of his parents. He came up to a stop as he was close enough to read the words engraved on the dark stone.

Here lies the Sixth Hokage

Uzumaki Naruto

The Unpredictable

Defender of the Village

Friend and Teacher

Hero of the Shinobi World

In Life and In Death

The words blurred before Sasuke's eyes, all but the one that held any meaning for him. "Naruto," Sasuke whispered, and the word left him with more bitterness than he had intended. The annoyingly positive blonde had been a persistent ray of light in Sasuke's life, shining straight through any curtains or walls the Uchiha could put up. Seeming to glare straight into his eyes, irritating him perpetually.

"Why did you bring me back?" Sasuke hissed, angry at his friend. Nothing good had ever come out of listening to Naruto. Agreeing to pursue his revenge from the safety of the village, to grow stronger together with Naruto and to meet their goals together at one another's side… Bullshit. Where once, only Itachi had plagued him, now he had Itami to consider as well.

Sasuke took a deep breath, hating himself for being angry at the man that lay before him, six feet under. His best friend. "I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath. The Uchiha turned his head away, as if Naruto could see the anger on his features. Sasuke dragged a hand over his face and drew a ragged breath. He stepped closer and saw the long blades of grass, heavy with dew, leaning toward the stone as if they, too, sought Naruto's warmth.

"Be nice to Itami, Teme." Naruto had said, fixing him with a glare Sasuke had never seen since returning to the village. Of course, Sasuke had responded with a glare of his own that dwarfed Naruto's in intensity, reminding his friend that the matter was none of his business. Naruto had refused to back down. "I mean it." Naruto had insisted, "She's a child of this village and under my protection. I can't believe I have to say this." Disappointment edged his voice and Sasuke had scoffed, retorting that Naruto had no idea what he was talking about.

Well, now he knew. He was watching from somewhere in the sky, wasn't he? Sasuke looked up at the clouds that huddled together, blocking him from the light of the sun that must contain an essence of Naruto's bright spirit. You know what she's become now. That I was right all along. But of course, Naruto couldn't have seen that. He had always believed in the good in everyone like a stupid, simpering child. And what good had that done him? He was dead and cold under the earth and Sasuke was here talking to him as if bones had ears.

Sasuke bit his lip to keep that last thought at bay. "I'm sorry." He repeated, his gaze fixed on the dark marble, shaded by the weeping willow. Long minutes passed and the clouds finally broke, allowing a thin ray of light to fall on the headstone, illuminating Naruto's name. "Tell me what you want me to do, Usura Tonkachi." Sasuke sighed. Not that listening to Naruto had ever led to any form of success, but the simple act of following Naruto's wishes brought him relief from his unabating self-loathing whenever he saw his friend grin foolishly at him with pride.

"Sasuke is my friend. I don't need to be Hokage if it means you want me to abandon Sasuke." Those were the words Naruto had spoken to the council at his trial. Sasuke had gaped at him, unable to believe the idiocy that was spilling from his mouth, but Naruto was firm and unmovable. The council had counted on Naruto filling Tsunade's shoes and relented, reluctantly, shooting Sasuke dirty glances all the while. But Sasuke had not really taken notice, he was too taken with the way his moronic friend was grinning at him again.

Wasted efforts, Naruto, Sasuke thought at the tombstone. You saved me, and I let you die. Do you see now? What kind of friend I am? Sasuke dropped his gaze to the ground, unable to continue his trail of thought. It was his fault Naruto was dead, he knew. He had killed his friend, the Mangekyou Sharingan that had bloomed into existence at his death was proof enough of that. The sharingan doesn't lie.

Sasuke had asked for a mission to get out of the village. He needed to get away from Itami and the nightmares she induced. To get away from innocent, round eyes looking up at his sharingan in horror, but he would be dead a thousand years before he admitted that to anyone. So, he pestered Naruto for a long-term mission beyond their borders. Naruto had tried to talk him out of it, telling him he was needed in the village. That there was unrest. His expression and the tone of his voice were stressed but Sasuke had not taken it overly seriously. Being Hokage was a stressful job. "I need you here." Naruto had insisted with downcast eyes.

"Naruto." Sasuke had snapped, "I need out." The two friends' eyes met, sapphire and onyx. Naruto had sighed and given him a mission to Sunagakure for two weeks. Sasuke had snatched up the opportunity and left the village the same day. When Sasuke had returned two weeks later, smug and self-satisfied with a flawless mission report, Naruto was already dead. "I need you here." Naruto had said, his voice insistent, his eyes pleading. If Sasuke had listened, he knew, Naruto would still be here beside him, teasing, laughing, and not cold and dead in his grave.

Sasuke shuddered and his throat blocked up the way it always did when his thoughts dragged him back here. Blinking back tears, he forced his blurry vision to stay focused on the name on the tombstone.

"I'm sorry, Naruto."

The rain held back for a good hour or two before the sky split in a torrential downpour.

I had made it about halfway through the forests by then and frowned at my own weariness. Clearly, my body had other ideas about the strain I was putting it through. I recalled what Kakashi had said about needing more bedrest and shook my head. Put up with me a little more, and we will be rewarded, I willed my tired limbs. The rain soaked my hair and my clothing clung heavily to my form. The bandages were drenched as well. The straw hat kept the droplets out of my face, at the very least, and that was some small relief.

The chill that accompanied the rain only served to intensify my discomfort and I frowned at the squelching between my toes as my shoes filled with rainwater. No matter. There was no time to lose. It was a day and a half to Konohagakure and the same way back if I travelled at full speed without rest. Three days. If I intended to make it back before Itachi's return I could not afford any setbacks.

Hearing thunder rumbling overhead, I turned my mind to thoughts other than my physical state. The truth was within arm's reach now. Itachi had embraced hatred… but I wanted him to be loved and admired. Acknowledged. Respected. Knowing he would not approve of my actions hurt, but I had lived my whole life without approval, so all was as it should be.

I jerked sharply to my left as lightning flashed to my right, splitting a particularly large elm tree right down the middle. With a deafening crash, the halves of the tree fell to the forest floor, its pale center exposed and burning, despite the rain. Spellbound, I drew nearer, extending my hand towards the flames that were quickly being doused by the rain. I knew I should have felt some fear or alarm, but I was filled, instead, with a sense of wonder. The warmth of the flames radiated towards my outstretched fingers, easing some of the biting cold of the endless rain. This is how the mighty fall. I wondered briefly if it was an omen of some kind. Turning my back on the phenomenon, I continued my journey towards Konohagakure deciding that I was not one to heed omens anyway.

When Sasuke returned to his home, pale and defeated, the house was still. He rightly assumed Sakura and Ichiro were still sleeping and turned to the kitchen, unwilling to face Sakura for fear she would read on his face where he had been. He strode towards the kitchen instead and determined to fix breakfast for his family on this rare day off. Growing up alone, there was no way around learning at least the basics of cooking. Pulling eggs and toast out of the kitchen cabinets, he wondered just how Naruto had gone all those years eating nothing but ramen.

He banished those thoughts to a vague corner of his consciousness; he needed a blank mind before he faced his family. He opted for a simple breakfast of eggs and toast and had just put the kettle on for tea when Ichiro appeared at the foot of the stairs. "Otou-san?" he asked, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Are you making breakfast?" He asked incredulously. It was a rare sight. "Aa." Sasuke replied shortly, looking once over his shoulder at his son, he determined that Ichiro seemed to be feeling better this morning. None of that hesitation and insecurity that had plagued him the night before.

"Check on your mother, Ichiro." Sasuke directed, "See if she wants some breakfast." Ichiro nodded. This was … different. But possibly a good change.

He sprinted back up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he hesitated a moment before knocking on the door to his parents' bedroom. He pushed the door open hesitantly and poked his head around the door to see his mother fast asleep, breathing deeply and peacefully. He approached his mother slowly, taking in her form, unharmed, and her relaxed face, and wondered where she had been. "Mom?" he asked softly, unwilling to wake her from her slumber, but she stirred immediately at the sound of his voice. Her eyelids opened slowly, and her dazzling green eyes blinked twice before focusing on him. "Ichiro…" she smiled sleepily and reached out for him, taking his hand into her own warm one. "I missed you." She whispered.

Ichiro bristled, fighting back tears. He looked down on the hand that held his, struggling to maintain an even voice as he choked out, "Yeah. Me, too."

He cleared his throat and looked out the window, not trusting himself yet to look at his mother again without crying. "Otou-san is making breakfast. Are you coming down?" he asked, hesitantly, still not sure if his mother was somehow injured. "Sasuke-kun is…?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, of course. I'm coming." She sat up in bed and Ichiro was quick to help her, one and on her shoulder the other still holding her hand, guiding her.

"Are you alright, Okaa-san?" he asked apprehensively.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and answered reassuringly, "Yes, I'm fine, my love. Just a little tired." Ichiro nodded. Sakura threw her legs over the side of the bed, preparing to stand and noticed that her movements were slower than usual. She took a few deep breaths to fight the wave of lightheadedness her doctor's instinct told her would follow when she rose. Looking back at Ichiro's concerned expression, she smiled, "Give me five minutes, honey? I'll be right down." Ichiro nodded, accepting his mother's need for privacy, and left the room.

On his way back to the stairs, he peered in on Kanashimi and saw that she was still sleeping peacefully. He closed the door quietly and returned to the kitchen. "Mom is coming." Ichiro announced, and Sasuke merely nodded wordlessly. The toast was neatly layered on a large plate, steam rose from the teapot, and Sasuke had just cracked the last of the eggs into the cast-iron pan. Ichiro began setting the table wordlessly as the two waited for Sakura to arrive.

Ichiro had just placed a jug of water on the table, when the pink-haired kunoichi shortly appeared at the foot of the stairs, balancing Kanashimi on her hip. The heads of the two Uchiha men swiveled jointly towards her, looking her up and down for telltale signs of illness or injury. Still exhausted, surmised Sasuke with narrowed eyes as he took in her pale complexion. Ichiro seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he moved forward immediately to take Kanashimi from his mother.

"Come. Sit." Sasuke nodded towards the table as he moved to wash his hands at the kitchen sink. Ichiro settled Kanashimi in her highchair and took his seat as well. Itami's chair remained conspicuously empty.

"How are you?" Sasuke asked Sakura, still observing her intently.

"Much better, thank you." Sakura reassured him easily. Although her limbs still burned with exhaustion, it was not as intense as it had been the night before. She knew she had come dangerously close to complete chakra depletion in that underground prison and berated herself internally for having been so reckless. How many soldier pills had she taken? She had lost count. Not eating or sleeping in three days… If Sasuke or Naruto had been that reckless she would have given them an earful. She watched her husband pull out his chair and take his seat at the head of the table, his movements effortlessly elegant and reflective of his aristocratic upbringing. She smiled to herself, acknowledging that she had been reckless because there hadn't been a moment to lose. The sooner she finished with Orochimaru, the sooner she could free Sasuke.

"You made breakfast. I'm… surprised," she teased with a glint in her eye, taking in the meal before her. She moved to pour the tea, but Sasuke pressed her hand back gently and took the kettle instead, pouring first her tea and then his own. Ichiro watched this exchange with wide eyes. When had he last seen his parents being so affectionate to one another? Looking back and forth between them, he noticed the subtle tightness in their expressions, their downcast eyes when the other wasn't watching. They weren't being loving, he realized, they were being apologetic. He sighed and reached for the toast instead, deciding to pay them no further mind, missing the way their eyes turned to him at his sigh.

"Itadakimasu," he muttered, digging into his eggs and toast. Sasuke and Sakura exchanged a glance before partaking of their breakfast as well. The family of four ate in silence, interrupted only as Kanashimi gurgled happily every so often.

When Sakura rose to clear the table, Ichiro was at her side immediately, taking the dishes out of her hands. "Thank you, Ichiro." She smiled at her son, as she watched him bring the dishes away. "Sakura." Sasuke's voice called her attention and turning to him, seeing the intense expression in his onyx eyes, she felt a wave of apprehension. Ichiro came through the doorway and Sasuke addressed him with the same solemn expression, "Ichiro." The boy froze in place, the air was heavy with the sense of import of what would follow. Ichiro nodded and resumed his place at the table. Sasuke's eyes roamed over their expectant faces, seeing Sakura's pensive expression and Ichiro's hesitant one.

"Things have changed in the family," Sasuke began darkly, and Sakura nodded sadly, while Ichiro frowned down at the table. "We need to address this issue." Sasuke's commanding voice carried clearly over the table.

"From today on," Sasuke announced, "Uchiha Itami is no longer a member of this family." Sakura's mouth fell open and Ichiro looked up at his father in disbelief. "She will be removed from the family register. She is no longer our daughter." He looked at Sakura meaningfully and she shrunk back from his penetrating gaze. He turned his cold eyes to Ichiro, "Nor your sister." Ichiro clenched his trembling fists under the table.

"Her name will not be mentioned under this roof." He looked from Sakura to Ichiro, both of whom were avoiding eye contact. "Do I make myself clear?" His deep voice was compelling, leaving no room for argument.

Sakura nodded at the table, although her lips were pressed into a frown, and Ichiro said nothing. "Kanashimi will take her place at the table. Sakura, you can begin clearing out her room."

Ichiro's throat clenched and he could feel a burning sensation in his stomach. He thought back to Yuudai ransacking her room. To the books Ichiro had gingerly replaced in her closet, stacking them neatly, hiding them as they had been hidden. To the rest of the bare room that had never had any personal affectations to begin with. Even before his father had decided to take her room away, Itami seemed to have felt it wasn't hers. He thought of the blankets that still held the faintest remnants of her scent. He thought of her sleepless nights. Her guarded behavior. This wasn't just Itami's fault. "You can't do this," he muttered angrily. Sasuke looked at his son with unfeeling eyes.

"Care to repeat that?" he drawled, the challenge in his low voice was more suited for battle than a family meeting.

Ichiro sprang to his feet, "You can't do this!" he shouted, giving voice to the angry indignation simmering within him. He felt both empowered and horrified by the fact that he was defying his father. "Family isn't something you can erase by crossing out a name on a piece of paper!"

His chest heaved with the force of his outburst. "Is Itami going to stop being my sister because we stop talking about her, or because you put her chair away? She will always be my sister! Whenever I see her, wherever I see her, I will always look at her and know that that's my sister." His voice had dropped low to match Sasuke's and was tense with an anger that rivaled his father's own.

"Your sister," Sasuke's voice was dripping with derision, "tried to kill five Konoha Jounin and she would have succeeded if I hadn't stepped in." He eyed Ichiro, allowing him to absorb that information. He rose to his feet as well, "She has aligned with a terrorist organization that is targeting this village and a man who is responsible for the death of every one of your relatives." Sasuke's slow, rhythmic words droned on as he approached Ichiro smoothly, imposingly.

"She left this village and disgraced the Hyuuga clan as well as our family in doing so."

"She must have had a reason!" Ichiro countered vehemently. "We can't just give up on her, we have to bring her back!" He hoped to find any semblance of empathy in his father's black eyes, but they were as harsh and unforgiving as if Itami had never been his child to begin with.

Sasuke stood just before Ichiro now, looking down on his son disdainfully through narrowed eyes. "Your sister is not who you think she is." Sasuke's voice was strained, his patience wearing thin. "What do you think she has been doing all this time, in ANBU?" Ichiro struggled for words under the weight of his father's smoldering gaze. "Taking life is as simple to her as taking breath. Child's play." Sasuke stood just before his son now, towering over him and Ichiro looked up into those stone-cold eyes helplessly. "It makes no difference to her whether that life is yours, mine…" he gestured behind him, "Your mother's."

"Onee-chan would never do that!" Ichiro insisted agitatedly. "You're weak." Sasuke hissed, "And soft." He scowled at his son who too greatly resembled his own pathetic childhood, with his unfaltering belief in the infallibility of his perfect brother. "Naïve," he spat. "You know nothing. Will you understand when she has a kunai to your throat?" His voice was dark and soft as black velvet, persuading and threatening at the same time.

"No!" Ichiro shouted, covering his ears. "Onee-chan would never do that! She would never-!" His defense of Itami was cut short by the sound of a sharp slap piercing through the air. Ichiro's face burned with pain and he lost his footing. He stumbled, reaching for the back of a chair for support. He pressed a hand to his stinging cheek and looked back at his father in shock. Sasuke's hand still hovered in the air, his expression unrepentant.

"Your sister is a killer. She harbors no delusions of familial bonds. The sooner you understand that, the better." Ichiro looked up at Sasuke, wide-eyed, stunned beyond words. Never had his father raised a hand to him in all the years he had known him. He looked towards his mother as if she could make sense of all of this, but she only averted her gaze, biting down on her lip. "Your job," Sasuke growled, "Is to protect this family. Not to condone the actions of the one who threatens us all."

Ichiro couldn't bring himself to look into his father's eyes, his mind was reeling along with his body. He didn't want to believe what his father was saying, but what could he believe? He had last spoken to Itami on their porch just outside. She had a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Her expression closed off to him. A gentle smile on her face that always looked like it existed for his sole benefit. Shaky affection he was never sure really belonged to him. It is better to be feared than hated, she had said, as if she knew everything there was to know about both of those feelings. What had she done since then? What rules had she broken that made her deserving of all this animosity? Did she really hate them? Hate him?

"Can't look at me?" Sasuke snarled, "Don't. Look at your mother. At Kanashimi. These are the ones who will wind up dead if you can't get your act together."

Ichiro's eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. Looking down on his hand, still gripping the back of the chair, he realized suddenly, that it was Itami's chair he was clinging to for support.

"Like a mindless hound she is trailing after someone who is notorious for having slaughtered his own family." Sasuke's anger was nearly tangible as his low voice burned through Ichiro, "Even you can't be naïve enough to miss the implications of that." Disdain laced his voice like venom that pumped through Ichiro's veins.

Sasuke glared down on his son. "What do you think that means for you? For your mother and sister?"

Ichiro had never felt so small. He wanted to disappear between the floorboards. "If you are truly my son," Sasuke breathed in a harsh whisper, "Then you will gain the strength required to kill her… and protect your family." Ichiro looked up at his father in horror. His lip trembled, despite himself. Kill… Itami?

"That's enough, Sasuke-kun!" Sakura cried. The two raven-haired individuals, so similar in appearance and yet at opposite ends of this argument, as fierce as any battle, turned to her as one and saw the tears streaming down her face. "Stop…" she sobbed. "Please stop."

"Tch!" Sasuke turned his face away from the two of them. "You both need to accept the truth. Wake up before it's too late." His harsh reprimand was met by pained silence.

Ichiro could not listen anymore, he turned on his heel and stormed out the front door. Leaving Sasuke alone with a sobbing Sakura, he slammed the door behind him, causing Kanashimi to jump in surprise and break into a wail. Ichiro ran, pumping his legs faster and faster until his lungs burned for air and still did not stop. He ran past the training grounds, into the surrounding forest where he fell to his knees and no one would hear him cry.

The gates of Konohagakure loomed at the end of the road, the cheerful red kanji on the bright green doors both garish and ominous. I released a low, resigned breath.

This village.

I narrowed my eyes at the offending script, loath to pass beyond those gates. To be on those familiar streets, where the very surrounding buildings and trees seemed to glare at me, constricting. It was as if everything inside those walls repelled me physically. I had never belonged there and that had never been as clear as it was when I finally left. Not even the air I had breathed in that village felt like it was truly mine.

It had been a life under scrutiny, where survival depended on feigned submission. The village was my prison and I, too, had caged my heart to endure. It was a place where I could not even turn my thoughts toward Itachi freely, let alone speak his name aloud. Since then, he had become the center of my universe. The axis of my existence. He had given me meaning. He was everything that mattered. The only thing I desired more than his approval, was his happiness. To that end, I would return to this cage, picking the lock myself, to let myself in. In and out, I reminded myself.

I was perched in a nearby tree, hidden from view. I had taken a break some three hours ago, drying my clothing by the riverside and taking sustenance from berries I had gathered in the woods. The details of guard duty were still ingrained in my mind, and I had gone over the my infiltration plan numerous times. With careful planning, I would not be set back by my compromised arms. If I rolled my right shoulder, I was rewarded with a stabbing pain and chakra would not spark to life in my left hand regardless of how much I concentrated. One hand was more than enough for simple Taijutsu, although I hoped I would not need it.

I watched Kotetsu and Izumo greet an approaching Genma as they engaged in casual conversation. Soon enough, Izumo rose and bid farewell as he headed out for his lunch break, leaving only Kotetsu behind. Knocking him out or placing him under a Genjutsu was not favorable. When Izumo returned, he would realize instantly that there had been an intruder.

Forming a seal, I transformed into a familiar kunoichi. I needed someone inconspicuous, a wallflower who could easily blend into the background. I looked down at my pale, slender hands and the purple hair flowing over my shoulder. Even without looking into a mirror, I knew that I had dark brown eyes to match Hitomi's face.

I jumped down from my perch, a replica of Hitomi's tanto was strapped to my back and I was clothed in Hitomi's jounin gear, not her ANBU uniform. I mirrored her steps, concise and demure as I made my way to the village gates. My head down, I clenched my hands in front of me and bowed stiffly in greeting to Kotetsu. As expected, he scarcely raised his head from the newspaper he was reading. Wallflowers had their advantages.

I roamed the village streets toward the Hokage tower, minding an insecure posture and taking care not to appear too purposeful in my movements. "Hitomi!" a voice beside me called. I recognized the woman as a member of Hitomi's three-man squad as a genin.

She had long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. She had always sneered at Itami and had always had any number of names for her ranging from "serial-killer spawn" to "Uchiha whore" to "dog poop" hoping to get a rise out of me. Hitomi would smile. I tried to remember the facial expression.

I turned toward her, a shy smile on my face, "Aiko-chan!" I mimicked Hitomi's soft, feminine voice. "What are you doing here?" I walked up to her, abandoning what I was aiming for as I had seen Hitomi do countless times for the person in question.

"Shopping," the girl replied with an arrogant shrug. "My parents want to invite the Uchihas to dinner." What could my parents possibly want with this useless member of the Fuuma clan? "Is that so?" I questioned innocently. "Yeah, though it ticks me off." She shook her head, "They're such a pain. I mean, it's great we finally got rid of that I-trash-i, but why do we have to get friendly with the rest of them?" Hitomi blinked in surprise, a reaction that was sincere in this case.

"I mean, I get that they're rich and elite and all that." Aiko was rolling her eyes.

We had never had financial issues, but rich? Were we rich? I assumed we had the resources of the rest of the Uchiha clan at our disposal, but father had never made use of them.

"But I hate them anyway. Do I need a reason to hate them? No, right?" She looked at Hitomi for confirmation, and I nodded numbly as she carried on.

"Then, why are your parents inviting them?" I asked, struggling to keep my tone friendly. "Ugh," she groaned, "They want to discuss an engagement between my sister and their brat. Get one foot in the door and all that." I bristled. Ichiro? My brother? The very idea was unsettling.

I vaguely remembered Aiko's sister. I had seen her near the academy and noticed the way she made eyes at Ichiro but hadn't thought much of it. Ichiro wasn't foolish enough to fall for the way she blinked up at him innocently and clung to his arm. He had seemed rightly disgusted and had shrugged her off, irritated. I also hadn't missed the way she snapped at passersby as Ichiro walked away. She was just the smaller version of her older sister. My parents wouldn't possibly consider such a proposal, would they? I remembered Yuudai and considered for the first time the possibility that my parents weren't malicious, just clueless.

"Well, let's just hope that doesn't work out then." I smiled at the girl and she started, looking up at me. Had my smile been too close to a smirk? "Well, that's a first," Aiko broke into a grin, "You're not berating me for looking down on the Uchihas? You were always singing that stupid girl's praises. It was such a pain!" She slung an arm around my neck and held me close. My fingers itched for the tanto on my back. "You've finally come to your senses!"

I shrugged her off and laughed weakly. "Ichiro is too good for your sister." I smiled at her. Aiko was trying to connect my words to my smiling face. They didn't match. She settled for a confused laugh, thinking she misheard me. "Right! She is, isn't she? Anyways, I gotta run, catch you later!" and she did just that, waving back at me.

I let the smile fall from my face and stretched my jaw. Smiles were painful, who would have thought?

I had enjoyed Hitomi's anonymity up to this point. People were looking at me now, and I lowered my head and trudged forward. Their gazes dropped and I finally reached the road leading to the Hokage tower without incident. Aiko had wasted valuable time and drawn attention to me, reminding me once again of how aggravating the girl had always been. Hitomi had been defending me? I recalled how she had admired me on missions, gushing my praise. I had always tuned her out, thinking nothing of it, although I now realized how out of character it had been for the shy girl to praise someone openly. Had she sincerely liked me?

I shook my head. This village and its useless intricacies. Try to see the stars, sometimes. Kakashi had said. But what did Kakashi know? I pushed open the double doors of the Hokage towers, nodding at the two guards as I passed. The archives were deep underground behind a sealed door. I had read enough about Fuuinjutsu to be unbothered by the seals. Every seal had a counter-seal. Every symbol had one it was weak against.

No one even looked up at me in the hallways, just as I had hoped. Security was lax. Intruders were unlikely to seek out the Hokage Tower at high noon, opting instead for the cover of darkness, which was precisely why this was the best time for a break-in. I found the stairs easily and waited for two jounin to turn the corner before beginning my noiseless descent into the bowels of the earth. It was rare that someone needed information from the archive and so, when I finally reached my destination, the danger of being discovered would be considerably reduced.

I pushed through the dark stone hallways, lit only by nearby torches. I felt two chakra signatures approaching and alarm pumped adrenaline through my veins. Hitomi would have no excuse for being down here in this restricted area. I considered incapacitating them, but if those two did not return to their posts, more shinobi would come looking for them. I scanned my surroundings for an escape and noticed a door slightly ajar. Making up my mind in a split-second, I slipped inside. I hid and waited for the two to pass, briefly scanning the room. "She won't be coming back until next week, so he'll have to hold out until then. He should be grateful to be alive."

"Shh!" hushed the other, "That's confidential!"

"What? You think the walls are listening? There's no one down here, idiot."

"You never know…" the first man trailed off uneasily, "If people find out we were loose-lipped, we'll lose our jobs, or worse."

I was not overly concerned with whatever secrets Konoha had to hide, other than those from 25 years ago. I looked around at the room I had taken cover in. There was a large empty tank in the middle, connected to machines that were inactive. An operating table stood in the middle of the room, various medical tools still spread out on it. Walking closer, I saw a nearly empty box of soldier pills and raised a brow. Who had consumed nearly an entire box of them? A brief image of a jittery mess of a person going through withdrawal crossed my mind. I had seen shinobi abuse these pills before and it had not been a pretty sight. I started, as my eyes fell on something on a counter against the wall.

Two white jade bracelets. I did not need to move closer to recognize that they belonged to my mother. She had healed someone here. Here, and not in the hospital. Looking around at the arrangement of the tools I concluded she had worked alone. The soldier pills. She must have been exhausted at the end of it if she had even forgotten her armbands here. Secretly healing someone. Who? Why?

Silence met my ears and I realized the Jounin had passed. A vague sense of unease crept into my stomach at what I had seen. How had my mother gotten wrapped up in this tasteless business? What was Danzo using her for? I shook my head. Sasuke might be ruthless and vile, but he was more than capable of protecting my mother, and I had no doubt he intended to do so.

Leaving the matter to Sasuke, I pushed back out into the hallway. I was here to protect someone who had no one else. I couldn't afford to be sidetracked. Whether Ichiro married Aiko's pathetic sister or mother drove herself to the brink of death doing Danzo's bidding, that was Sasuke's problem. I thought of Itachi, possibly returning to Kakashi's cabin and not finding me there and quickened my steps.

Finally, the large, caverned hallway opened up to a large stone wall. Black scripture was inked from the corners of the wall into the center where it curved into circular writing, a spiral etched into the middle of it. Approaching, I scrutinized it carefully, recognizing the symbols and deducing how best to dispel the barrier.

Biting into my thumb, I used my blood to scrawl out the counter incantation, my writing sprawling over the writing of the barrier. When I finished, I pressed the palm of my right hand against the center of the spiral and charged chakra into it. The symbols glowed once, and then faded, my blood absorbing the ink and then disappearing completely.

I pushed open the door and winced as the ancient doors groaned in protest. I entered silently and scanned the empty hallway before closing the doors behind me.

Itachi moved among the villagers of the quaint village like a seamless shadow, drawing no attention to himself and giving none to those around him. He reached the wooden hut in isolation from the village and knocked once. Kakashi opened the door, unsurprised to see the Akatsuki member standing in the doorway.

"Come in," Kakashi nodded towards the interior of the building and stepped aside, allowing the Uchiha entrance. "You're early." He commented as he strode smoothly toward the attached kitchen.

Itachi followed, stopping in the area between kitchen and living room, separated from Kakashi by the kitchen counter. "And yet, you aren't surprised." He returned smoothly.

"I don't receive many visitors," Kakashi agreed, reaching for the tea kettle. He raised a scarred eyebrow at Itachi, "Tea?"

Itachi paused, considering, before responding, "Thank you." Kakashi thought back to how Itami had apologized to him and insisted on paying for her own things and realized suddenly whose influence that politeness had been.

Kakashi carried the tea towards the table and gestured to the missing nin to be seated. Itachi accepted the invitation and sat across from his host. He waited for the older man to take his tea before reaching for the cup that was offered him.

Kakashi concealed a small smile before shaking himself out of the reverie. Itachi and Sasuke were complete opposites in that respect. Kakashi sighed. Calmly sharing tea with this man, convicted mass-murderer and notorious Akatsuki member, in his own living room as if there were no ill-will between them was surreal. But Kakashi acknowledged that he was, himself, a dead man. Dead men told no tales and carried no grudges.

"She isn't here," Itachi concluded, observing the tea leaves in the ceramic cup.

"Yes," Kakashi sipped at his tea, "She said she will… return." Kakashi didn't know if there was some deeper meaning to that phrase but those were the words she had chosen. "She planned to be here before you returned but… you're early." He said, returning to his earlier point.

Itachi nodded. "Has she recovered?"

"Her right arm has regained full mobility, but not full strength. The left doesn't seem to be able to mold chakra, but basic mobility isn't a problem as long as she avoids anything too strenuous." Kakashi listed off methodically, "Her face is still something of a mess, but her ribs were healing nicely."

Itachi observed Kakashi, listening intently.

"She would heal better if she slept sometimes, but I don't think she's slept a wink since coming here. Is that normal?" Kakashi asked, turning towards Itachi as if discussing a student's progress with their parent.

Itachi considered this. Itami had always had dark shadows under her eyes, but he had seen her sleep on multiple occasions. He did not answer Kakashi's question, drinking from his tea instead.

"You really haven't changed," Kakashi said finally, raising an eyebrow at Itachi.

"Even back then, you always kept to yourself. Whether on the battlefield or in the locker rooms, you had the same energy, the same body language. Nothing moves you."

Itachi returned Kakashi's gaze, his long lashes framing unperturbed onyx eyes, not responding.

"When I heard you killed your clan, I was surprised to say the least. I thought your frightening potential was for the sake of protecting the village. But then… you turned that strength against your own family… and traumatized your brother."

Kakashi had lowered his gaze back to the green tea in his hands, the steam rose slowly between them.

"I was his sensei back when he was a genin. The more I watched him suffer, the more I wanted to help him kill you. He was obsessed with revenge. He didn't allow himself any reprieve. He hated the things that made him happy, fearing they would make him weak."

Sorrow was written in Kakashi's eyes as he thought back to his gifted student.

"Whenever he was confronted with someone more powerful than him, he was… terrified. There was no way to help him. He hated needing help… he hated those that tried to help him. He hated you. He hated himself."

Itachi listened quietly, and Kakashi who was still staring intently at the jade liquid cooling in his teacup, missed the way his expression softened.

"You should know better than anyone else what he has been through." Kakashi looked up at Itachi now. "Don't take his child away." Kakashi's voice was thick with repressed anger, "You've already taken everything else."

Itachi's expression hardened imperceptibly. "Every individual must choose their own path." His smooth, dulcet tones overcame reason. The strength of his character and the power of his voice made it impossible to interrupt him. "We may drink from the river; but we cannot change its course."

"And this does not apply to Sasuke, apparently." Kakashi quipped, draining his tea.

"Sasuke…" Itachi's voice carried a warning. "is my otouto."

"Yes," Kakashi agreed setting down his cup briskly, "and well, that just justifies everything, doesn't it?" He smiled sarcastically at Itachi.

Itachi followed suit, setting his cup down. "It appears I have outstayed my welcome." He concluded.

Rising to his feet, he regarded the grey-haired ghost of a jounin, "Where has she gone?" His gentle voice disguised the demand as a question.

Kakashi rose as well, "She went to Konohagakure." He did not miss the way Itachi's eyes narrowed.

"Thank you for your hospitality." The Uchiha nodded politely before turning towards the door.

"She said she wanted to save you." Kakashi drawled slowly. Itachi froze, turning back slightly, his activated sharingan fixed on the older man.

"But why does it look like you don't want to be saved?" Kakashi mused, meeting Itachi's eyes.

Kakashi casually cleared the table and carried the teacups over to the kitchen. "I understand why I don't want her going back to Konoha," he continued conversationally, "But why are you trying to keep her away?"

He let the tap run over the dishes before shutting the water off. "That child is convinced you are innocent." He dried his hands on a dish towel before returning to the counter and leaning on it with feigned nonchalance, regarding Itachi curiously. "What is it you are so afraid she will find there?"

Itachi blinked slowly, lowering his long lashes and willing the fiery sharingan away, the crimson blending away to be replaced with onyx orbs that seemed to peer straight through Kakashi.

"There is more to the story, isn't there?" Kakashi continued, "and Itami is dangerously close to finding out what it is."

Itachi's piercing stare, though veiled through hooded eyes, was admittedly uncomfortable for the ex-jounin, but he held his gaze. When Itachi finally spoke, his dark voice breaking the silence like a knife through flesh and bone, Kakashi stilled.

"You are a dead man, Kakashi." Itachi stared him down pitilessly, "Don't forget that."

Kakashi's mind blanked and before he could even think to respond, Itachi was gone.

Library was a more apt word to describe the sprawling maze of bookshelves. Tall, dark brown shelves brushed against the high ceiling, lined up in rows across the expanse of the immense archives, stretching back as far as I could see in the dim light. Leather-bound books in varying states of faded color greeted me everywhere I turned. Scrolls, boxes, even crates of index cards were stacked between the many tomes. I released the transformation jutsu and saw my own black hair flutter into place around my face. Walking down the aisles, I searched for a date in September, twenty-five years ago. The wealth of information at my fingertips was tempting, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. It was a place I could lose myself in for weeks. I briefly considered pocketing some of the books, wondering how many I could carry.

I shook off the feeling. I was here with a singular purpose and could not afford to be distracted. The threat of discovery should not be taken lightly. Pacing further back into the depths of the archives, I saw that the shelves spanned deep into the depths of the caverns and a granite stairway led to a landing on the second floor providing access to the books on the higher shelves that were stacked to the ceiling.

I searched methodically, analyzing the organization of the records first, decoding the underlying system in order to locate the files that were dated back to the year of the massacre. That was how I found myself in the dark at the back of the archives, a torch nudged firmly between two particularly thick volumes illuminating my surroundings with its flickering firelight.

At last, my search came to fruition, as I discovered the mission reports for the year in question. Given Tobi's implications that Danzo was somehow involved, I determined it was prudent to begin with the reports from ROOT. I located the heavy black box I recognized from my time in ANBU at the bottom shelf. Kneeling down, I lifted the lid and peered inside at the dusty, aging scrolls.

I lifted the first one tentatively. There were secrets here. Secrets Itachi had gone to lengths to conceal from me… but I had to know the truth. I needed it as badly as one needed air when held underwater. My entire being burned for it. When had a day gone by that I hadn't picked this puzzle apart in my mind, hoping to piece it together in a new way that would suddenly reveal the hidden picture? How many times had I turned this riddle around and around, hoping to see some enlightening new facet to the events that would make sense of everything?

The answers were at my fingertips now, and if Itachi did not forgive me for taking matters into my own hands… then I would simply accept his hatred as a matter of course. Hatred was familiar to me. If he cast me aside, I…

I swallowed, not knowing what would come after that.

I peeled the first layer of parchment away from the scroll, tearing it open as a child might tear away a band-aid. Mission details, as well as reports to the Hokage. Intel on Suna. Underground spying in Kumo. Typical ROOT activities. The novelty of the situation faded as I skimmed through scroll after scroll. It felt like hours had passed before finding something relevant.

January 4th, 19xx

Unrest in the Uchiha clan. The disturbance cannot be settled by dialogue alone. The dissent will pose a threat to the village, left unchecked. The situation will be monitored.

The Crow

The neat handwriting slanted elegantly and was signed with the odd moniker and a stamp, resembling the implied bird. The report was followed by various other reports of lesser interest. Who was this "crow" that had been feeding them information on the internal affairs of the Uchiha clan? Shisui, perhaps? And what was the cause of the unrest in the clan? There were no further details to clarify the matter.

I reached for the next scroll eagerly. At last, I was getting somewhere.

February 12th, 19xx

The Uchiha clan expressed discontent at the clan meeting. Being relegated to the Uchiha compound was a cause of complaint. The possibility of a future Uchiha Hokage was appealed and strongly supported. The Third Hokage stepped in to clarify to the clan the disastrous consequences such a decision could have for the village. Peace was tentatively restored for the time being.

The Crow

I had always wondered why the Uchiha compound was isolated in a remote corner of the village and had assumed the Uchihas simply liked their privacy. I had never considered that the village might have resettled them there purposefully. Why would an Uchiha Hokage have disastrous consequences for the village? I was under the impression the animosity the villagers held towards the Uchiha clan stemmed from the massacre. Apparently, there was more to the matter than meets the eye.

This "Crow" faithfully relegated the incidents of unrest and was visibly perturbed by what he, or she, was witnessing. The urgency in the words chosen made that painfully apparent. An Uchiha who was reporting to the Leaf about the occurrences within the Uchiha clan, clearly hoping the village leaders would take action to restore peace. And yet, the reports were met with delays and indecision. My heart went out to the poor crow.

March 25th, 19xx

The disgruntlement of the Uchiha clan can no longer be ignored. These are not isolated incidents. Careful plans are being laid. Measures must be taken to avoid violence. Clan members are regrouping according to their strengths, actions are being taken to prepare for a decisive move. The village is in grave peril. Countermeasures are required.

May 10th, 19xx

The patience of the Uchiha clan dwindles. The situation is worsening. The Uchiha are collecting arms. Their rebellion is inevitable. Course of action to be discussed.

I read on with wide eyes. The rebellion of the Uchiha clan? That had not been written in any history book. Father had never mentioned such a thing. Then again, it would have been unlikely for him to mention something of that nature to me… I hesitated, could it be that he had not known? Had the Uchiha clan truly been planning to take up arms against the village? I looked down on the scroll unseeingly, stunned.

I had seen similar destruction in other shinobi villages. A civil war left a village broken and impoverished without fail. There were no victors. Both sides of the dispute are left broken shadows of their former selves and the village itself like half-dead carrion stripped bare to the pickings of passing vultures and other scavengers. I thought of Otogakure with its impoverished beggars and bold thieves, and how easily that could have been the fate of Konoha.

August 11th, 19xx

The Uchiha representative was absent to the meeting of Konoha's clan heads. Dissent is reaching a breaking point. A coup d'état has been agreed upon within the clan. Battle plans have been established. Haruno and Nara clans to be among first victims. Countermeasures are urgently required for peace and stability in the village. The threat of civil war is upon us. Requesting orders.

The Crow.

Mother's clan would have been targeted. Time was of the essence. Even I felt frustrated at the inaction of the Hokage and the council. I couldn't begin to fathom how the crow felt. The next entry featured a handwriting I immediately recognized as belonging to Shimura Danzo.

August 31st, 19xx

The Hokage suggests peaceful dialogue but that is no longer an option. According to the crow's reports, the Uchiha clan will soon attack the Leaf. Internal strife will leave us vulnerable to attacks from the outside. A civil war between the Uchiha and the Leaf would spare few survivors. It is a time for decisive action. The council is requested to permit ROOT intervention.

Underneath that, stamped in red lettering were the words: REQUEST DENIED.

I released a shaky breath, lowering the scroll. The Uchiha clan had been plotting a coup d'état. Ready to overthrow the Hokage and his administration as well as whoever else rose to his defense. It was hard to imagine that sprawling Uchiha compound, isolated on the outskirts of the village, full of life and bustling with activity. But at one time, it had been populated. A joint effort to destabilize the village from the powerful Uchiha clan… it was a small wonder the countermeasures were labeled "to be discussed". There was no "good" way to deal with the situation. A solution without bloodshed would have been… miraculous to say the least. It was going to be messy, but necessary. They needed to confront their opponent. Had the Council and the Hokage each hoped the other would move first, not wanting to take the blame? Had those fools hoped the problem would resolve itself? Why hadn't they taken any course of action?

I picked up the scroll again, eager to know more, but was stopped short as a single line of writing met my eyes.

September 2nd, 19xx,

The threat has been resolved. Immunity for Uchiha Sasuke. Case closed.

The rest of the scroll was blank. I reread the lines, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Was there no more?

Immunity for Uchiha Sasuke. I swallowed thickly. Those simple words made painfully clear who "the crow" had been. Someone had resolved the precarious situation the village had found itself in. Without the council's approval. Without the Hokage's backing. Acting alone, taking all the blame on himself. "The crow" who had only ever been in contact with Danzo had carried the responsibility on his young shoulders.

That "threat" had been his own family.

His mother, with the kind, dark eyes and the haunting lullabies, his father, a valiant warrior, and the rest of his noble clan. I recalled the events of the Tsukuyomi, the myriad of voices I heard in varying tones, like a kaleidoscope of sound, calling out one name. Itachi.

Tears stung my eyes. The scroll rolled from my fingertips, suddenly heavy as lead, and dropped to the floor. They had let him do it. Had made him do it. To protect this ignorant village. Beside themselves; helpless and indecisive, the old crones of the council, the Hokage inflated with a misplaced sense of self-importance, the arrogant Danzo… they were all as lost as mindless sheep in the face of the looming danger of the Uchiha clan's rebellion.

They had placed the burden instead on the shoulders of a thirteen-year old boy… and he stood firm as a mountain under that weight. He had negotiated for the life of his little brother and done what no one else had dared to do. Although the burden weighed most heavily on his shoulders. They were his beloved family. His flesh and blood.

My legs gave out, I sank to the ground, feeling the cold stone floor press against my calves. My lip trembled. My shoulders shook. My eyes fixed on a point in the darkness in front of me, unseeing. Please stay by his side. He is so lonely, Itami. I sucked in a breath and pressed the back of my hand to my mouth as I felt tears pool in my eyes.

They made him kill his family; forced his hand. Coerced him into doing the unspeakable and then used him as a scapegoat, blaming him for everything. They had painted him into the villain in a narrative of their own fabrication from the very beginning. Danzo pulling the strings craftily. I felt my breath hitch and my pulse quicken as the enormity of what I had learned tore at my insides. My head spun. Itachi had never wanted to harm anyone. Never wanted to kill them. He had hoped for a way to save both the Uchiha and the Leaf. And when all else failed, a way to save at least his precious brother, Sasuke.

I thought back to the Tsukuyomi and bit back a strangled sob as I realized, for the first time, that those events were just as painful for Itachi as they had been for Sasuke. I squeezed my eyes shut and my stomach heaved. I bit my lip and forced myself to breathe deeply.

We can never be considered innocent, Itami.

They were the ones to blame. Danzo, the Hokage, the council… the entire village. Like demons from the shadows, they had poured the blood of his family onto his hands, drowning him in it, choking him in it and then they dared to condemn him for it. How could they?

The walls seemed to be closing in on me. I needed to get out of here. I needed to see Itachi. I sucked in another shaky breath. I felt my heart racing, my breath was coming in short and fast gasps, I needed to calm down, I needed to get out. Emotions…I reminded myself, but I couldn't remember what came after that. All I recalled were blood-drenched roads, bodies in the throes of death and a silhouette shrouded in the moonlight. An indecipherable expression. Warmth and kindness. Grief. Longing. Resignation. You are Sasuke's daughter. A warm Akatsuki cloak. You belong in the village.

My surroundings were tinged red and I realized my Sharingan had activated. I pushed away from the shelves, leaving the fallen scrolls where they were. I pulled myself to my feet. Let me out. I dragged myself to the door, leaning on the surrounding bookcases, struggling to see the way through the bodies I felt were falling around me. Falling around Itachi. Blood splattering him from head to toe. In my vision, he had his back to me, but tears were dripping from his face. Was I hallucinating?

I had nearly reached the doors when they were suddenly thrown open, revealing the culprit, the cause of my agony.

Danzo stood in the doorway, his arms crossed in front of his chest, flanked by Konoha nin, and even more of them stood in the hallway behind him. My discomfort seemed to dissipate as my blinding rage focused on a most appropriate target. This was the enemy who had dared to manipulate Itachi. This was the scum who had murdered his family. This was the dog that had written Itachi's narrative in disgrace and hatred. The Uchiha should have killed them all.

"Itami," he muttered roughly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" The false politeness was punctuated by the sound of weapons being drawn.

"You," I snarled, my pulse still scrambling in fury, "You dared."

Danzo merely raised a brow. "And what would that be, precisely?"

The red layer over my vision intensified. Was I in the world of Tsukuyomi or was this reality?

"You dared to use and discard him?" The threatening undertone was not lost on Danzo, his eyes narrowed briefly before he regained his composure. I fixed my sharingan on him, glowing dangerously from the shadows, "Speak, Danzo. The blood of the Uchiha is on your hands."

Danzo looked unimpressed, "Why are you lingering on things bygone?"

"Uchiha Itachi… is not your plaything!" my voice was cold and cutting as steel, low and dangerous.

Danzo shrugged carelessly, "He served his purpose as a tool of the village. Tools are discarded when they've fulfilled their purpose." His voice was harsh and unfeeling. Like an echo on stone walls.

"He was only a boy." I felt tears constrict my throat, I vaguely recalled that I had never wanted to shed tears in front of this person, but everything I had once thought and felt and valued was falling from a precipice, crashing into one another, losing meaning. "Have you no shame?" My voice was hoarse, not as steady as I would have liked, weakened from holding back my tears.

"Shame?" Danzo barked a laugh, the first time I had ever heard it. "Someone needed to take care of that clan. The Hokage and the council were too cowardly to do anything about it. So, I stepped forward and approached Itachi." He stood proud, as if he had singlehandedly saved the village in doing so. The surrounding Shinobi shifted in surprise, glancing towards Danzo uneasily.

"He was always a very reasonable child. He understood what the others had failed to see. The only possible solution was to destroy the Uchiha clan. All he wanted in return was the safety of his little brother. That was easily arranged." He gestured carelessly with a wave of his hand.

"Of course, originally, I had planned to dispose of little Sasuke as soon as Itachi was gone, but that weasel had a way of being persuading. No matter, Sasuke proved to be more useful alive than dead." He was smiling smugly, pleased with himself, "Through him, I can control one of the most powerful Akatsuki members, the shinobi world's greatest medic, and as long as he is loyal to the village, his abilities are also at my disposal. Yes, Itachi saw to that nicely, as well."

Danzo stepped closer menacingly, the Shinobi following suit to protect him. "You, on the other hand, Itami, were a bit of a challenge." He looked me once over from head to toe as if I were a particularly interesting human experiment. "I couldn't manipulate you with either of your parents, nor with your siblings as might have worked with Itachi." His eyes roamed over my bandaged arm. "You did a fine job concealing your true intentions, Itami. I could not guess what you wanted, and as a result, I could not contain you." He turned slowly away from me.

"But now it's all in the open, isn't it?" he drawled, looking back on me once cruelly. "Just a lovesick, forlorn Uchiha like all the others. So Itachi is the key to your Pandora's box, it would seem." He exhaled disdainfully. "How anticlimactic."

"Yes, that night, he was covered in blood." He reminisced. "But his face was expressionless like a true shinobi. He was reliable. Not one survived."

Itachi's weary expression, the light of the campfire highlighting his features in the dark of night. "I killed them all."

I wanted this, I tried to remind myself. I wanted to know the truth. Even if that knowledge was eating me alive. Burning me up. What had I been thinking? That I would clear his name? That I would bring him back to the village in honor and glory? Had I been seeking to redeem him in the eyes of these fools who were content to live their lives walking on his sacrifice and spitting on his name? Not one of them was worth the air they breathed.

Danzo waved his hand at the nin, "Kill her." The effect was immediate.

The shinobi, ten in number, closed in on me. Did he think they had me cornered? Did he think I would let him walk away on his own two feet, knowing what I now knew? The haze of red in my vision was burning into my veins. Had he played into the palm of my hand while thinking hehehe had the upper hand? A ruthless laugh bubbled beneath the surface and erupted from me in malicious mirth, a low chuckle that gave them pause. "Stay, Danzo." I hissed, scarcely recognizing my own voice. "Watch the show." In a flash, I withdrew my kunai. My left hand resting lightly against its hilt, primarily for balance, as it was in no condition to battle. One arm would be enough for these vermin.

I looked around me, the enemy seemed to move in slow-motion, stumbling towards me like ants trapped in honey. I could kick out, send them flying into the walls. Their pressure points were painfully exposed, easy to reach, easy to tip them into the realm of unconsciousness. But I wanted blood. I needed to see blood. To feel it on my hands. It was only separated from me by a thin layer of skin, after all. I kicked out, sending one kunoichi flying into the shelves, reveling in the wave of satisfaction that rushed through me when I heard the crunch of breaking bones.

They were living in the world of peace Itachi had left them, all the while shunning him, looking down on him. Unforgivable. He was drenched in blood and pain. I would show them the same.

At breakneck speed, I sprinted between the other shinobi, dodging a kick to the right, slicing the artery in his thigh that would have him bleeding out in minutes. I felt a punch approach from the left and dodged with the slightest movement. Kicking upwards, I sent the nin tumbling and flipped backwards. I leapt out of reach of a kunai aimed for my throat and twisted to land on the exposed chest of another nin. Stabbing my kunai into his heart, I launched myself back off his chest as a spurt of blood gushed forth, spraying my face. It was as soothing as a balm.

I twisted in the air, kicking both legs out in opposite directions, two more shinobi went flying, I sent shuriken after them. They circled the shinobi once, twice, wrapping them in chakra wire. Another approached, his sword held overhead to bring it crashing down on me. I yanked on the wire, pulling the two shinobi back towards me, straight into the path of the falling sword. One fell to the floor dead. The other clutched at the stump left behind by his severed arm. Striking upwards with my good arm, I took hold of the hilt of his sword, and kicked out at his abdomen. His grip was loose, likely from the shock of having killed his teammates, and he flew straight into Danzo.

Four further shinobi streamed through the door. A relief. The previous ones were no longer picking themselves up from the ground.

I jumped, gaining momentum by kicking lightly on a shinobi's chest with my left foot, I aimed a chakra-fueled kick at his skull and heard the satisfying crack of his skull splitting as he stumbled back into his teammates. I pressed my shoe against the head of a fallen nin, borrowing one of their hands to form the necessary seals to form a Katon, I felt the other shinobi approach me in the meanwhile. Twisting towards them, I pressed my thumb and forefinger to my lips, expelling the force of a deep breath of air laden with chakra. An inferno burst forth from my mouth and two more shinobi fell to the ground screaming. The wooden shelves burst and fell, blazing brilliantly. The fire spread quickly, courtesy of the highly flammable content on the shelves, passing from scroll to scroll. Looking back at Danzo surrounded by his fallen shinobi, I knew whose blood I craved to satisfy my wrath.

I coughed, despite myself, as smoke filled my lungs. I wiped my mouth with the back of one soot-stained bloody hand.

The furious flames reflected and burned in the irises of my sharingan. "Itachi is not yours to do with as you please." I stalked towards Danzo, my voice a low, furious rumble. My body was trembling, my eyes lit with a touch of madness. "Itachi is under my protection."

I picked up speed, stumbling toward him and lunging forward with my outstretched kunai. I felt a battle cry tear out of my throat at the sheer, insuppressible need to see Danzo dead. To watch his blood spill out over my feet.

Danzo side-stepped neatly, a minute too soon. A victim of the Genjutsu I had cast, sending an illusion of myself ahead seconds before I actually charged. He side-stepped directly into my range and I pierced my kunai into his chest, breathing a shaky sigh of satisfaction and trembling with relief as I felt his blood spill over my hands.

A resounding crash sounded behind me, as more shelves collapsed into the flames. Danzo coughed and sputtered and I released the kunai. I wanted to watch the life go out of him, but I needed out. I needed to get away from here. To see Itachi.

I stepped away from him, drinking in his dying form one last time. I sprinted down the stone hallway, a bloody hand pressed to my mouth as I choked on vomit and tears.

Danzo stumbled and pressed his left hand to his bandaged right, loosening the bandages. He concentrated, pressing his eyes together in focus, and was suddenly standing fully erect and unharmed. He strode back into the archives, unperturbed, taking in the carnage around him. "Hokage-sama," one of the shinobi sputtered, a hand pressed to his injured chest. He coughed, as his lungs filled with smoke, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he said, "Is it true? Was the Uchiha massacre really ordered by Konoha?" He looked on in wide-eyed horror.

Danzo raised a brow, the man was severely injured in a burning building and that was what he wanted to know?

"Yes," he admitted easily, "They were becoming a nuisance."

He walked among the fallen, noting that four seemed to still be alive. "I would go to any lengths to protect this village." He continued simply, his voice oddly calm in the face of the towering bookshelves crumbling in ash around them in the crackling flames. "Wouldn't you?"

"Y-yes, of course." But the shinobi's response was unconvincing.

Another coughed, pressing a hand to his wounded abdomen. "What- what do we do now, Hokage-sama?" he choked out. The smoke was suffocating, and the fire only grew in intensity.

"Now," Danzo drawled, "You must keep quiet about what you have seen here today."

They hesitated. "Yes, sir." The man at his feet added weakly, at last.

"I have no doubt you will," Danzo agreed brusquely.

He turned to the door, even as the shinobi around him cried, "Hokage-sama!" "Wait, we need-" "Help us!"

But Danzo only closed the giant stone doors behind him trapping the smoke and flames inside with the injured shinobi. He turned deaf ears to their screams as he replaced the seal Itami had broken and returned to the Hokage tower unmoved. There could be no witnesses. He should have burned down the archives a long time ago.

Ichiro climbed the tallest tree he could find. Channeling chakra to his feet as his mother had taught him, he passed by overreaching branches and a pair of squirrels scrambling along their length. He climbed further still, leaving the shorter trees behind him. He broke out above the forest canopy, breathing in the crisp air deeply. Everything around him was suddenly miniscule and insignificant. Put into place.

The wind tore at him from that altitude, his hair flying in the breeze with abandon but Ichiro had no fear. He looked down on the expanse of trees beneath him, suddenly smaller, submissive. The village beyond him looked like no more than a dollhouse. Tiny figures bustling about with a delusion of urgency. He wondered how high up he was. He squinted at the ground beneath him curiously, would he survive a fall at that height?

How long would it take for someone to find him? Would anyone miss him? Father would surely shake his head that Ichiro was such a disappointment, even in death. Mother, he supposed, would mourn for an appropriate amount of time, but she had Kanashimi to take care of and the hospital. She was strong, she wouldn't let something like that set her back. How long would it take for the news to reach Itami?

He frowned. His mind could not summon a reaction suitable to her. What would she say if Ichiro died falling out of a tree? She wouldn't cry, would she? He had never seen her cry. Would she sigh, thinking she had taught him better? A shinobi's life is not his own. You may not live or die without permission. He exhaled bitterly, feeling the tension leave his chest. He hated remembering her stupid idioms at all the wrong times.

He stayed there, perched in the tree, removed from the chaos beneath him, the wind biting at his stinging cheek. He wondered if his mother had stopped crying, if his father had comforted her or if he had just snapped at her as well. He felt like a coward, leaving them all behind that way. But he had to choose between Itami and the road that his father wanted them to take from here, and he was not ready to make that decision.

How much time had passed since she left?Was he the only one still holding out hope that she would return? He turned his gaze towards the open gates of Konohagakure, thinking wishfully that she could stride through those gates at any given moment as if she had never left. When he then saw a small figure with long black hair trailing behind her, dashing out of the village like an arrow released from its bow, his heart skipped a beat. He would recognize her anywhere.

He jumped from the tree with no hesitation, his eyes fixed determinedly on his sister. His sister. He'd be damned if anyone dared to tell him otherwise. Nearing, he saw Izumo and Kotetsu slumped over their table, clearly fallen victim to her Genjutsu. He paid them no mind, he needed to catch up with her.

Following from the treetops, he saw her unprecedented haste, her bandaged arm. Catching up with three chakra strengthened leaps he jumped onto the road behind her. "Onee-chan!" he cried out, willing her to stop, and she did.

She froze in place, not turning around. "Don't go!" he shouted, still catching his breath, terrified she would continue her mad escape, leaving him behind. He saw her stance, tall, proud, indifferent and the bandages loosening around her left arm. What had happened to her since they had seen each other last?

"Please," he breathed, desperately. If only he could bring her back, he knew, everything would be okay again. Her very presence was a miracle. As if she had been summoned by his wishful thinking. He would not have such an opportunity a second time. "I know –," he tried, "That things have been hard." He looked at her stoic back, wishing he could read her expression.

"It hasn't always been fair. But you, you are stronger than that, right? You're not going to let anything anyone says get to you!" He hoped his words would reach her, hoped they would touch her heart and bring her back but how could he hope to convince her when he didn't really know the pain she was going through?

"I was always an idiot, right?" He muttered, his eyes filling with tears. "Jealous of you. Hating you, like you said. When really, you were in so much pain and I didn't see it."

She had her back toward him still, and it broke him. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'll do anything I can, just… please. Please, come back."

"Without you, I – everything is empty. I won't let anyone be mean to you again, Onee-chan. I will make sure of it. I'll convince father and we can go back to how it used to be. No, it will be even better, I promise!"

He entreated with outstretched hands, hoping for a reaction of any kind but she remained unmoved, unyielding as steel. "I know," he murmured bitterly, "that you told me to hate you. But I can't. I don't hate you, Onee-chan… I love you! I always have! To me, you are…" He broke off, searching for words and finding none.

"If you can't stay, then…" He thought of his sobbing mother, of father's slap, of Kanashimi wailing and no one moving to go to her. Of Yuudai ransacking Itami's room. Of Ino wearing his mother's apron. He summoned his strength and courage to speak the next words that left his mouth. "Take me with you. Please."

"Please, Onee-chan."

She turned then, slowly, to face him and he gasped as he saw that her face was stained with blood. She ran a hand through ebony locks and more blood dripped from them. Her clothing itself was covered in blood from head to toe. Ichiro realized with horror, that the blood was not her own.

She looked down on him disdainfully through narrowed eyes.

"You're annoying." She said shortly, her voice cold and cutting. "And weak."

"Take you with me?" she scoffed, "And what purpose would that serve?"

Ichiro was stunned beyond speech, still taking in the sight of her. The bitter words, the anger in her eyes, the blood drenched appearance. Beyond the anger, something even more frightening, something broken - and he had no idea what it was.

"Onee-chan," he whispered, trying to recognize the woman who stood before him as his sister. The gentle one, kind and wise, who had frowned when he plucked a flower, unnecessarily ending its life before its time. Who lowered her head without fail, when father berated her. Who always had an encouraging word for him, even if she did not always have the time to be with him.

Who was this fury, drenched in blood, with madness in her eyes?

"Come back." He pleaded. Be the sister I know. Be my shelter again.

Derision was plain on her face now and her voice dripped venom when she spoke. "Back? To your pathetic family, and your disgusting village? Ichiro," she chided, her voice low and dangerous, "Don't make me laugh."

Her cold eyes fixed him firmly in place as she continued, "Does father know you're here? Begging, like this?" Humility was frowned upon in their arrogant family. Even Ichiro knew that, but this wasn't just anyone. This was Itami.

In answer, Ichiro dropped to his knees, he pressed his hands to the floor, and bowed low, begging forgiveness. Abandoning all pride before her. "Please come back, Onee-chan!"

He was begging literally now, and Itami looked down on his prostrate form, taken aback and angry. Hadn't she taught him never to show weakness to the enemy? Or did he not see her as an enemy, yet? Was he still clinging to foolish hopes that she would return to the village? His coexistence with Sasuke depended on him aligning himself with their father's thinking. She had left Kanashimi in Ichiro's hands, he needed to get his act together. She clenched her teeth. She would help him do so, if need be.

She turned around and walked away. Ichiro, hearing her footsteps, raised his head in surprise. "Wait!" he called out, jumping to his feet, running after her. "Itami onee-chan!" But she was showing no signs of stopping. "Stop!" he shouted, "I'll stop you by force if I have to!"

He drew out a kunai, holding it in front of him with trembling hands.

She did stop then, looking back over her shoulder at him, and Ichiro could only look on wide-eyed, seeing her expression. Narrowed eyes and a condescending smirk scorned him as much as the teasing lilt in her voice as she spoke, "Do you want to die, Ichiro?"

She turned to face him, extending her arms to her sides, "Then by all means, come at me."

"You would never hurt me." Ichiro replied, trying not to be shaken by her bloodstained appearance.

"Care to find out?" she tossed back, her deranged smirk only widening.

Summoning his courage, he dashed forward, kunai outstretched. He had to stop her. To bring her back. To put the pieces back in place. He knew his movements were too straightforward, as obvious as his intentions, but he was blinded by his emotions. By his desire to bring her back to his side.

She scarcely needed to move to dodge his attack. Leaning slightly to one side, her hand shot out, grabbing a hold of his wrist as he stumbled past her. He was so close to her, he could feel her warmth, smell the familiar scent he had been searching for as he curled up into her blankets. Her fingers grasped his wrist tightly, but even the pain was comforting. He looked up at her, wishing they weren't fighting. Wishing she would give him some more words of wisdom, embrace him just once, even if she were leaving again. He did not even mind that her blood-stained hand was dying his skin red.

"Take a good look, Ichiro." She held his gaze compellingly, "At who I am now." Ichiro gasped at the emptiness in her eyes, he had scarcely processed her words when she tightened her grip and a stabbing pain, like a bolt of lightning, shot up his arm just as he heard the bone snap.

He screamed in pain, unable to contain his agony. She released him and he did not know how to carry the limb, every movement hurt. Just as he was falling to the floor, terrified of the impact against his injured limb, she caught him up by his other wrist. He felt oddly comforted that she was holding him upright, thought somewhere in his pain-addled mind that she would apologize when she lowered her lips to his ear and spoke the words that sent a shiver down his spine.

"I'm not done with you yet, Ichiro."

He could only look on in terror. There was no trace of warmth in her eyes. No love lost. He felt her firm grip and realized in horror, that she was going to break his other arm, too. Tears pooled in his eyes. "Pl- please…" he whimpered, still in agonizing pain.

A sword went whizzing between them and Itami released him, jumping backwards to discover Seiji standing a few paces away from them. Never had she been so grateful to see him.

"Seiji," Ichiro groaned out with difficulty, "how did you - ?"

"You didn't show up for training, brat." Seiji replied, never taking his eyes off of Itami. He unsheathed his other sword and held it pointed at her, stalking slowly closer. "Come here, Ichiro." He commanded quietly, his blue eyes fixed on Itami in an icy glare.

Ichiro struggled to his feet, wincing as he tried to move his arm as little as possible. He staggered over towards Seiji and Itami watched him go. Had Ichiro looked over his shoulder, he would have seen that her eyes were no longer narrowed and that they lingered on his broken wrist longer than necessary. But he did not turn back towards her, just as she expected.

"Ichiro needs to get to the hospital, as I'm sure you know." Seiji seethed, reaching out for Ichiro's shoulder, gently guiding him behind himself. "Just go your way, and we'll go ours." He held her gaze confidently, refusing to back down. He knew she had turned her back on the village, but he had never thought she would abandon even the little brother who admired her so. Ichiro looked up at his sister once more. The fight seemed to have gone out of her. Did she look relieved, or was he seeing things?

Itami met Ichiro's eyes, disregarding Seiji completely. Ichiro bit his lip to stop himself from crying out in pain and held her gaze, his face pale and wrenched in agony. "What I require from you, Ichiro, is your hatred, not your love." She frowned in distaste at the mention of it. The words were yet another riddle she was leaving him with. He would not forget the clarity with which she spoke, nor the shadow of death in her eyes as she uttered what sounded like a verdict.

She reached into her kunai pouch and Ichiro's eyes widened as she threw something in his direction. His gaze dropped to the road at his feet, stunned to see his mother's white jade bracelets.

"Tell your father," Itami was saying, her voice level, detached, "To keep the things he likes out of my reach." The threat was unmistakable.

She was turning away now, walking down the road. "That goes for you as well. Protect what matters to you. From now on, I'm your enemy." Her voice carried over to him, the menacing undertone gone, replaced however, with words that were just as hurtful.

Ichiro watched her retreating back, and when tears blurred his vision, he blinked them away once and she was gone.

AN: This chapter is so ridiculously long, I can't even. Poor Itami. I know she's making some tough calls here but it's all coming from a good place in her heart, believe me. I'm kind of scared I will get the most reviews on this chapter and they will all be flames. But I had this planned out from the beginning, so, I'm just gonna go with it. Do I feel worse for Ichiro than Itami at this point? Yeah, a little. She needed to provide him with direction though, much like Itachi did with Sasuke and she recognized that. He was wavering between her and the village and she just couldn't let that be, knowing it would only hurt him in the long run.

Just a heads up, the next update might take a bit longer because I intend to rewrite some of the earlier chapters, mainly chapters two and three as they were written in 2007 and no longer reflect my writing style. I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible, though. Who knows? Might be even faster if you guys leave some nice reviews, Muahahaha :D