This fic is basically an exercise in self-satisfaction. I'm obsessed with fics that contain gratuitous hurt & comfort for Itachi, and sometimes Sasuke, so I thought, "What the heck, let's have a fic where Itachi is enslaved, not his dumb brother." And I started to write it. Now obviously, Kishimoto has done his best to make Itachi into a conflicted martyr. I'm not going any easier on the 'conflicted' or the 'martyr' part, so if I manage to ruin the character and turn him into a Mary Sue, feel free to lightly suggest that I throw my laptop into a bonfire.

The background in this would be a mixture of 'vaguely historical' Japan and the original Naruto setting. I don't know anything about Edo or Meiji, and I certainly don't have a good grasp on Japanese feudalism. I ask you to forgive me and heavily suspend your imagination if you notice any glaring contradictions with real-life. Also, despite my poor skills at depicting reality, I don't think I'll put in anything 'magical' (meaning ninjitsu, or actual magic, you get my drift).

Last of all, I don't have a really concrete plan for this entire story. That means there will be VIOLENCE and GORE, but I don't know how far it will go. At some point, I could also mention some more icky stuff, but nothing really sexually explicit.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it. Cheers.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Naruto universe, which is trademarked by Kishimoto Masashi.

Absolution

Chapter 1: Knives

"Leaders grasp nettles."

- David Ogilvy

Itachi stopped as he felt a sting in the back of his neck. His hand moved to source of the pain, and pulled out a needle. A tingling sensation traveled down his body, his limbs suddenly weighed down as if they were cotton soaked with water. Itachi smiled privately, knowing his assailant wouldn't be able to see the expression.

Hit the right spot. Good boy.

"Come out, little brother."

From the throngs of the marketplace suddenly emerged a figure draped in a hooded cloak. The black cloth that hid him from head to toe created a shocking disparity between him and the bustling masses covered with sweat and summer dust. Suddenly, the figure moved forward with frightening speed, and slammed a gloved hand into Itachi's chest. Itachi gasped sharply as his back hit a wall, the air stolen from his lungs.

"You knew I was there!" hissed the cloaked figure.

Itachi said nothing, but instead stretched out a hand that moved too fast to be seen. In that short moment, the cloaked figure immediately regretted underestimating Uchiha Itachi once more: a mere paralyzing agent that could put out a bull did not seem to affect the man at all.

But the blow never came. Sasuke only felt the blinding sunlight hit his brow, now longer shadowed by his hood. Without it, Itachi could clearly see the pupils widened in surprise, the still babyish lips slightly open. Itachi's voice held no feeling, no fear, no contempt as he said, "You have found me later than I had expected, little brother."

Sasuke quickly recovered his anger, and with a growl he stabbed his dagger clean through Itachi's shoulder, stopping only when its tip grinded against stone.

"How dare you mock me, you sack of shit! I should just gut you right here and give you to the butch—"

Kakashi firmly held Sasuke's wrist, which was now coated with blood that flowed down the blade.

"Sandaime's orders, Sasuke. Keep him alive."

The boy snarled, but backed down and pulled out the knife with a vicious twist. Itachi kept silent but for the sound of a sharply drawn breath.

"The poison should have fully kicked in by now. I'll bring him to ANBU headquarters. You report directly to the Sandaime," Kakashi said, taking a coil of rope and tying it around Itachi.

"What, you can't trust me enough to not do everyone a favor and decapitate this piece of scum?" Sasuke protested. His mentor gave a pointed look and said nothing, marking the end of the conversation. Sasuke cursed under his breath as he shook off the blood from his knife with a sharp flick of the wrist. Sheathing the blade, the newly appointed head of the Uchiha clan (if you could call it that) mounted his horse and rode towards the east gate of the trading post.

Ibiki thoughtfully chewed on the rice cake his daughter-in-law had packed along with his boxed lunch. It was a little on the bland side, and the texture was chewy to a fault. But he did not complain, mainly because the starved prisoner in front of him was forced to see and hear the exaggerated movements the interrogator's jaw made.

"You know, kid," Ibiki said between bites, "I never thought you had it in you. No offense. I mean sure, you could probably take down an entire fucking army—" He swallowed. "—in the time it takes for other people to do their dirty laundry. But you never seemed like—" Ibiki took a swig from his canteen to relieve the dryness in his mouth. Goddamn rice cakes. "—the nutcase-wacko type. And I usually ain't wrong about these kinds of things."

The kid said nothing, but chains that let him hang from the ceiling hit against each other, making faint clinking noises in the dark of the cell. Ibiki got up from his stool, and walked right up to the Uchiha. The man came up so close that Itachi could smell the rice and alcohol on his breath. Itachi felt his stomach cramp in protest, but gave no outward sign of it.

"But what is most surprising of all, kid, is that you managed to get caught by none other than that runt brother of yours, a fifteen-year-old brat who has less talent than your left pinky. Within two weeks, no fucking less."

Silence followed Ibiki's little rant, and the bear of a man wondered what would happen if he should take one the torches hanging on the walls and ram it into the boy's wounded shoulder. It probably wouldn't draw out a single word, but Ibiki was past getting results. After a month, Ibiki realized that his captive would give him nothing more than fascination and twisted amusement. Maybe even a weird sense of respect.

Just before Ibiki could scratch that particular itch in his curiosity, the door opened to let in Hiruzen Sarutobi, the third shogun of the Land of Fire. Ibiki stood up and bowed stiffly, noticing there were no guards next to the old man.

"How was your trip to the Sand, my lord?"

"Went better than I expected. I believe the trade-off shall end in success."

"Do you wish to speak to the Uchiha?"

Sarutobi quickly scanned the prisoner's body. The burns and lacerations and the strange angle the leg turned testified that Ibiki had been thorough to a fault. The old man nodded curtly. "I must suppose there has been no progress with information, Morino-san."

"I'm wondering if there is any information to disclose at all. As time goes by I'm increasingly convinced that he is nothing more than really talented fruitcake." Sarutobi let out a forced, unhappy chuckle, and moved directly in front of Itachi.

"Ibiki, why don't you take a short break? Men have been known to see things after too many days in these cells."

The interrogator knew better than to refuse, and decided to take his free time by the river, and air out the smell of blood and stale piss out of his nostrils. As he left the wooden door closed shut, and the shadows cast by the torches returned to their darker shades of black.

Sarutobi wasted no time as he took out a small container of water from his sleeve, and lifted it to Itachi's lips. The boy (dear God, he was only twenty) lifted his head so that he could drink. The slightly bitter taste the water had let him know that it was spiked with painkillers. Some of it dribbled down his chin, gaining a rusty hue as it mixed with dried blood that crusted over his skin. When the bottle was empty, Sarutobi sat down on the stool, and sighed deeply.

"Itachi-kun, I thought we made a deal that you wouldn't get caught."

Itachi answered with a voice like sandpaper. "I thought we made a deal that Danzo wouldn't touch Sasuke. Yet only three days after leaving Kohona, I heard rumors about Sasuke being marked as a potential accomplice."

Sarutobi could not look at Itachi's face, and instead fixed his gaze on his left hand. It had no fingernails, nothing but bloody nailbeds exposed to the chilling air. It was always cold in these underground chambers, even in August.

"I'm sorry. I tried to avoid that situation, but Danzo…You know how Danzo is."

The leader of an empire felt the shame creep into his old bones, but he finally mustered the courage to look into the swollen eyes of the former prodigy.

"The best I can do for you is to tell you that Sasuke is doing a fine job of filling your place, and his father's. He's already been welcomed into the royal guard. Within a few years he'll probably take your old post as head of the guard. Maybe he'll even make general like you, someday. Everyone thinks he is a hero and a fine warrior."

"Then my plan worked."

"Exactly the way you expected."

Itachi closed his eyes in relief, finally allowing Sarutobi to break his gaze.

"When is my execution planned?"

The old man stood up, and faced a wall as if there was something fascinating embedded in the grey surface. He looked as if he had suddenly aged a hundred years, the weariness almost tangibly smoothing away his bony features.

"My son, we live in troubled times. Our land has grown too rich, and all around us are greedy enemies waiting for a crack to leak. An Uchiha revolt would be a laughable nuisance compared with a full-blown war with Mist."

Sarutobi traced a blackening stain, most likely blood, with a gnarled finger.

"Perhaps catastrophe will not strike in the next five years. Or even in the next decade. But it will eventually. The crest of our wave is bound for descent, and I will be far too weak to do anything about it, and Danjo will only pull forward our complete demise."

Itachi laughed softly, bitterly. "And I will be a rotting corpse, deep under the ground your people shall fight on."

Sarutobi turned around, and his next words seemed urgent.

"In mayhem, people will forget many things. With destruction so pervasive, Fire will be looking for a savior, and if he is any good, the last thing they will care about is his past."

His fingers ghosted over a weeping burn on Itachi's face where one of the ANBU had stamped a red-hot brand. It was not a gesture of comfort, nor one of pity, but rather a sign of admiration.

"I used to wish that politics would not prevent me from naming you my heir. Now that so much has passed, I see that I have no choice but to."

Itachi eyes bored into Sarutobi's. The boy knew. He could cut through all these grand statements, right down to the core of the ugly truth.

"What is your proposal, my lord?"

In that moment, Sarutobi shed all of his dignity and pride willingly. He would forever come back to his words and relish the pain that they gave him, etching them into his skin with a dull knife.

"Uchiha Itachi, I would like you to become a slave."

Wheeee! End of chapter. Please spare the time to write a review :)