disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
dedication: to those moments where you look around you & appreciate how the times change, but the most important things stay the same. to having the serenity to accept the things you can't change, the courage to change the things you can, & the wisdom to know the difference.
betareader: to selene, for talking me through some essential parts of this chapter. & beta-ing this "chapter". thank you!
important note!: this story takes an alternate path from the manga- starting at the massacre. the small notes that are different- the bits that are different from canon- are mentioned in this chapter.

Prologue: Justification

"Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives." Richard Bach

Ten Years Ago
Uchiha Compound

At half past three, Itachi found himself sitting on his bed. All of the lights were off- he'd merely told his mother that he'd felt something like a migraine so as to excuse himself from the midday snack. His fingers weren't trembling as he looked at the flat blade of the katana in his grasp, glinting under the faint moonbeams.

Maybe they should be trembling, Itachi thought clinically as he turned the weapon over with care in his hands to look at the imperfect gleam. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Here he was, contemplating- no, contemplating would mean that he was considering not doing it. He was going to go through with this- it was part of this long, dirty plan to cleanse his clan from the village. After all, there was no alternative. Else, the rest of the village would fall under their rule. There was no peace in that, and so there was no choice.

There was a plan.

If he had to be honest though (what was honesty, in the life of a shinobi?), he would have to say that he was surprised everything had gone this smoothly thus far. His cousin, though suspicious of him, didn't seem to think too much of his unusual behavior- there had been no conflict, something he'd expected because of Shisui's role as the clan's spy.

Everything was going smoothly.

But he could not deny that he wished something would go wrong. Itachi wished that something would come between him and the actions he was about to take- something that would legitimize the abortion of the plan so he wouldn't have to take the lives of the only family he knew. He would take the slightest excuse, no matter how cowardly, to avoid this. How many thirteen year olds have to mete out this sort of punishment…

What he'd give to be normal.

Which only returned him to the thought of the katana in his hand- the knife that would soon look like it was bleeding as it slit its way through flesh and bone until everything looked like a sanguine nightmare. Why weren't his hands trembling as they knew the action they were about to take? Why wasn't he more scared? Most people would be scared. Was he really such a demon that the thought of his family dying beneath his blade did nothing more than send that usual rush of adrenaline running through his body?

Somewhere, a clock ticked four o'clock and Itachi stood up as if on auto-pilot. His blood felt like ice, flowing through his blood, but all the young boy felt was the pounding of his heart from deep within his body. His little brother was still at the academy; his parents were sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea.

They were to be last.

That wasn't part of The Plan, but it was part of his. He'd thought it through- first, he'd kill the other clan members first, ending with his own parents. It would all be silent, no hint that anything was going on besides for the unnatural lack of sound. But it'd be perfectly timed; he'd wait until he felt Sasuke's underdeveloped supply of chakra enter the compound to strike his own family's fresh blood upon the walls. Itachi would stand over their mother at just the right moment so that Sasuke could watch her bleed into the flooring, where the stain would never removed.

A cough caught him unaware and he hacked into his fist. Looking at it under the darkness, he couldn't see the blood that he knew was there. That was the key part of the plan. The secret illness- his crucial crutch- that would lead his plan to completion. He fully expected Sasuke to hate him. It had to happen. He was counting on that richness of emotion in Sasuke to make this whole thing roll. He counted on Sasuke hating him to the ends of the earth and back for this so that Sasuke could kill him, believing that it was for Itachi's selfish reasons that the death of the people he loved had happened.

As Itachi looked out the window, he saw the glint of a Sharingan outside of his windows and a chill felt its way down his spine. He didn't have a choice in this, he reminded himself. He wouldn't let him. Madara Uchiha was going to stand beside him as he made the first cut, spreading red blood, making sure he didn't do otherwise.

Sliding the standard ANBU katana into its sheath upon his back and unhooking the mask from his belt, Itachi walked to his door and opened it noiselessly before making his way down the hall. He didn't look into any of the mirrors that decorated the wall; he didn't need to look into them to know he was paler than the ghosts of lore.

The hall made its way to the door, and not for the first time, he wished that it didn't pass the kitchen. He didn't want to see his mother- to see her face before he started his task. It would just make his task even harder. Just the image of her in his mind made his steps falter until they stopped.

"Itachi-chan?" She was right behind him; he could feel her worried eyes outlining his back. He had hoped she wouldn't see him. "I thought you said you had a migraine."

'I'm feeling better,' was on the tip of his tongue- but he couldn't say it. To say so would be a dead giveaway- migraines didn't go away so fast. What to say, what to say…

"Shisui just stopped by my window to tell me that the Hokage has requested me," Itachi heard him say calmly.

Her forehead was creased in worry. It was always creased nowadays, he vaguely remembered now. She was constantly worried about things- mostly him, he thought absentmindedly. "But you don't look so well." She walked the few feet between them and forced him to turn around with that stubborn streak she'd given him. As her hand pressed firmly against his forehead, Itachi recalled his childhood. It was because of her that his life had been relatively normal for something that had been so twisted.

"You don't feel really hot, but you're still really pale," Mikoto murmured thoughtfully. "Can't you tell the Hokage to send someone else? You've been on too many missions lately- you need your rest before you stress out and do something irrational."

He jerked away.

"Do you hurt?" Her concern wasn't infectious- just severely misplaced, Itachi told himself. She didn't know what would come to be. She didn't, and if she did, she'd be using the skills she had gained as a jounin in her youth to separate her eldest son's head from his body.

His head twitched almost imperceptibly. "I'm fine, Okaa-san."

Her hands were on his hips and her eyes- just like his but more full of life- looked stubborn and exasperated. "You need to take a rest, Itachi-chan. It's not healthy, you running around all of the time doing missions. I know you signed up for that, but still- you are thirteen. You should be able to make friends. Be a teenager, just like other boys your age. You can slow down without stopping, you know?"

But then she sighed, and relents. "Fine. Go. But when you get back, no missions for two weeks. You need to spend more time with Shisui-kun and Hana-chan, not always going on missions for ANBU." Itachi tried to look away- because this meant lying and he didn't lie to his mother- but she was having none of it. "Promise me."

"Okaa-san…"

"Promise! I'm not asking you to go kill someone- just take two weeks off. Promise?"

His lips twitched in spite of his brain's order for them to stay still as he relented. "Fine, Okaa-san."

"Now go and finish your mission so you can come back home and rest." Now his mother was shooing him away. Giving a sigh, he left the house and made his way to the other side of the compound, where he'd begin the massacre.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way, Itachi thought. Perhaps instead of starting with someone easy- someone he had next to no emotional ties to, he'd start with the hardest person. Get it over with. Rid himself of the pain of the dread and waiting. Waiting to kill his mother was making his insides complete acrobatic twists that should be anatomically impossible. He felt bile make its way up his throat, but he forced it down in a swallow.

"Itachi."

The cold voice was unmistakable, the man who was the other part of his plan. If Konoha had known that this man was involved in their previous plan, they'd have called it off before they'd even began to plan. Madara Uchiha was not someone they wanted to accommodate- not after his involvement in the founding of the village.

It would be so easy to use that, to stop the plans in its tracks…

"Madara-san." His tone was respectful, if a little tense.

"Are you ready to bathe the streets in blood?" The cruelty- the delight in his statement- made Itachi want to grit his teeth. This man was excited in his statement, something that seemed to the young teenager, unusual in a human being. It did lend credit to his theory that Madara was a demon among men.

It didn't hurt that everyone thought him to be dead.

"I'm ready to complete this mission, yes."

Even as he walked over a hole in the concrete, Madara gave him a look- the equivalent of a teenager rolling their eyes. "This isn't a mission so much as a life change. It'll never be the same after the first strike- after the first head rolls. You'll have no choice but to continue.

"I promise- you'll enjoy it after the first sight of blood. These people are just holding the world back- criminals, in their own rights. Enjoy cleaning up the world of such miscreants. They aren't your family- remember how they used you time and again for their own gain? Remember how they fear you? They hate you, for being special, for being so great at killing. They're jealous. Let the righteousness bring them down. They deserve no pity." Again, Itachi noted how the delight seemed severely misplaced in this scenario as their silent footsteps reached the first house.

None of this is for him, he realized. The elder Uchiha was talking about himself- this wasn't about Itachi Uchiha or for his benefit.

This was just revenge and madness.

Through the window, Itachi could see a young boy in the kitchen, his chubby fists around the red crayon and his eyes fixated on the marks on his paper. Crayons of many colors- iceberg lettuce green, fuchsia, onyx black, sunrise orange- surrounded him. A young woman- a mother- knelt by his chair, talking to him softly. He could read her lips

("What are you drawing, Sato?"

"A ninja."

"Why are you drawing a ninja?"

"He has a lot of weapons. Why does he have so many weapons?"

"So he can save his mommy from the bad guys.")

as she watched him with a look in her eyes not much different than the look his mother gave him- when he was younger and when she brushed his hair away from his forehead so she could check his temperature.

A cold feeling settled in the general area of his large intestine and he tried not to choke again.

He couldn't do this. Looking at his hands, he tried to imagine them gouging holes in his kinsmen- tried to imagine loping Sato's head from his neck- tried to imagine them trembling.

"Itachi, are you waiting for an invitation?" His ancestor's tone was pleasant, just as Itachi imagined it'd sound if he were inquiring as to what the weather would be like tomorrow (dark, with no chance of clear skies). Their weapons were out and he didn't remember pulling his katana from its sheath.

He tried to nod, but his mind was full of his mother, her blood, his sword five inches past her back and buried hilt-deep, her screams getting stuck on the bleeding in her throat, her eyes going dim, her apron from cooking stained the red that was more fitting painted on her lips…

He couldn't do it. It didn't matter if he was starting with her or ending with her. No matter how he cut it, she would die if he started tearing people apart. Why did it matter who he started with, when it would only end with her? She was in the mess any way he diced it and…

He couldn't do it.

With the silent hiss of steel on leather, Itachi stuck the sword back into its place on his back. His eyes found the nearly invisible scrapes on the window, from where someone- a young boy, probably- had scraped the ends of chopsticks until the lines were imbedded in the glass forever, and traced them in their messy surrender. They were clear- Sharingan clear, and he didn't remember turning them on.

"No one is dying tonight," he murmured softly and turned away from the window to look Madara in the face. He did remember this emotional turmoil in his belly, and it only quieted with this decision. The resolution is warmer than blood on his hands and he felt the tension leave him. The choice- the contemplation- had steadied him as he found himself in front of a silent Fury, like from legend.

"What?" It came out quiet and the tension returned with it.

But he stiffened his spine and stared right into eyes that are older than his own- that have seen things that would make him claw at his eyes and tear them out at the very root. His hands had done things that would make Itachi never want human contact ever again.

"No one shall die tonight," Itachi hissed, narrowing his eyes. "Leave without shedding any blood and I will not tell the counsel that you are alive. But if you don't…" The unfinished threat was enough of a promise. He may be entirely too powerful for any one person's good, but even he wouldn't be able to deal with the united force of Konoha and the Uchiha's, neither of which were his ally. Madara wasn't a fool, and they both knew it.

But Madara was not finished, and they both knew that too.

"I'll be back."

"I know." Itachi hoped he looked as fearless as he thought. The thought of this not being over bothered him- the uncertainty of what could happen tomorrow- the day after tomorrow- the years after tonight- made him dread going to sleep and waking up.

But he was getting ahead of himself, thinking of waking up when he hadn't even gone to sleep yet.

Madara melted into the darkness, piece at a time until his eyes were last. Luminescent Eternal Sharingans were on him, a mad grin into the very last second he had.

"Wait for me," were his last words, purred like Satan's own helper. "You will regret this, and I'll be glad to watch you fall when it does."

Reaching with all of his senses, Itachi waited until he couldn't feel any more of the dark chakra in the area before he relaxed again. That had been way too easy. He knew it was, but he also knew it was over- for a moment or so- enough time, in his opinion.

He started for home, feeling his heart slow almost to its resting pace. Perhaps it was like this for all near misses, but Itachi noticed things about his home that he hadn't noticed before. For instance, the way the tree branches fell on the wall in just the right way to allow for creative genjutsu contouring for those with the skill. Then there was the Teyaki-san and Uruchi-san's senbei shop- he remembered them giving him then when he was younger and how he'd appreciate the small glances that didn't size him up because of who he was. He saw the way the houses were close together, as if they were trying to help shield each other from any invaders.

And all of this was almost gone.

The thought stunned him into mental quietness as he tried to remember why he'd almost gone through with it. Why had he tried to end all of this?

But it came back to him- for peace. He knew of his clan's planning- their machinations to get what they felt they richly deserved in a village that laid their achievements bare and unremarkable. The coup d'état they had tried to create to become the leaders they thought they should be. The blood would be shed, and he tried to imagine the blood of children- the children his brother went to class with-.

No.

He pushed that out of his mind. Tomorrow, he would come up with a plan. He'd think of how he could manipulate this situation away; how he'd explain why his clan woke up in the morning to the council of elders and the Sandaime.

But until then…

Itachi found himself on the doorstep of his home and opened the door to the smell of his mother's tempura. "Sasuke-chan, is that you? Come help your mother with dinner."

Silently, he just walked into the kitchen and started setting the table, where his father was sitting, quietly watching half of his family doing the normal family activities.

"Itachi-chan! Didn't you have a mission?" Her voice was surprised but delighted, and Itachi found himself happy to not be on any mission at all.

"Hokage-sama only needed a clarification of my last report," Itachi said quietly as he set the last plate down.

"That's nice. I'm glad you're home."

"Hm," was the only thing his father said, but it sounded like he wasn't unhappy that his eldest son was home for dinner.

When it came to Fugaku, Itachi wasn't sure about his role in the need for a massacre or simply his role as a father. Unlike his mother, his father was emotionally distant and a problem. Perhaps if his father hadn't been strung along with the rest of the elders, he could tolerate the push to do his "duty" as the heir, but his father's position in this game between the Uchiha and the rest of Konoha left his son in a precarious situation at best.

But he merely inclined his head and was glad when Sasuke rushed into the room, having thrown his bag at the door in his rush to sit down and eat. "Aniki, you are home!"

"Yes, your older brother's home. He's going to be around for two weeks." His mother's voice was firm, but there was a soft delighted undertone that didn't fail to make Itachi wish he could do something to show that he was content being home as well.

Itachi didn't need to look up from serving himself a shrimp tempura to know his father had raised an eyebrow at this piece of information, but before his father could say something that would make him want to rub his nose in a loose sense of frustration, Sasuke butt in.

"Does that mean you will have time to help me work on my Katon?"

He was pretty sure the corner of his mouth twitched at the request, but he let himself take a small bite of his dinner first. He subtly looked over the table- at this strange piece of ordinary that rarely showed itself- and tried to take a mental picture. This was why everyone was still here- why he'd decided to make this stand.

The tempura went down his throat easily and he dabbed daintily at the corner of his mouth. "When are you done with school?" he asked nonchalantly.

Sasuke gave a small cheer before almost tackling him sideways.

"Sasuke! Didn't we teach you not to interrupt your brother while he's eating?"

"Yes, Kaa-san." But Sasuke didn't sound particularly repentant as he gazed at his elder brother in no small amount of glee.

"You will regret this…"

A chill spilled over his spine at the memory of those words, but Itachi focused on his family- the occasional instances of normalcy they inserted in his life, the- well, it could be called love- love they allowed him that took away the sting of every kill, the reasons they gave him to end the life of others.

Regretting their lives would be the last thing he would ever do.

Well, I'd like to end chapter one by saying welcome to "A Thousand Times Over". It's... well, I know it's going to be a doozy to write, but I hope it'll be a worthwhile endeavor. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I will enjoy writing it because this is something I've been plotting in different incarnations for about a year now. It's not something I've personally read before, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

Second of all, as you may have noticed, the massacre does not occur. thus a lot of things are different from canon!verse. Shisui is not dead. Itachi didn't commit the massacre. He sent Madara packing- temporarily. That being said, this is non-massacre, but as you will see in the next chapter, this isn't the traditional non-massacre.

Also, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update. Those who know me know that I'm a busy college student- full credit load & volunteering on the side- so time to write doesn't come to write very often. But I'm ready to undertake this; I just ask for some patience & understanding.

Hope you're ready for this roller coaster. :)

P.S. Thank you, selene, for giving me the motivation to finish this whole thing. Srsly- you are a doll. Love ya. ;D