Chapter Text
Sasuke sat beside his brother, feeling the heaviness of the afternoon press down on him.
The day had passed in quiet convalescence, but it still bothered Sasuke, the chakra pins, the darkness around Itachi's energy centers. Those pins bound memories of pain and responsibility to Itachi's soul. Not unlike way Sasuke's memories and anger had held him hostage for years as well.
Itachi lay still, his breathing shallow, and in the silence, Sasuke found himself overwhelmed with the weight of everything they hadn't said between them. How many years had he carried this anger, nurturing it like a fire, feeding it with every memory of loss and betrayal? Yet now, as he looked at Itachi, the familiar rage was absent, leaving a strange void in its place. He didn't know what he felt anymore, only that his brother needed him—and, for once, he didn't have to force himself to not run away.
Sasuke placed his hands over Itachi’s chest and abdomen, feeling the faint pulse of energy beneath his fingertips. He had read once about reiki, a practice where energy was directed to heal wounds that weren’t visible to the naked eye, but hadn't ever tried it, not to heal himself... not to heal anyone else. Now, though, he felt an instinctual pull, as though something within him knew this was what he needed to do. He closed his eyes, focusing his own chakra, channeling it carefully toward the blockages he had felt earlier at Itachi's chakra centers.
The energy under his hands was cold, chaotic, dark, like a turbulent sea barely contained beneath the surface. Sasuke concentrated harder, pushing his chakra to envelop Itachi’s own. He imagined the flow of energy moving smoothly, gradually untangling the tendrils and knots that were blocking Itachi’s centers. His hands grew warm, almost hot, as if his own life force were surging outward in response.
Itachi lay quietly at first, his face set in its usual calm, unreadable expression. But as Sasuke continued, he noticed a faint crease forming between Itachi’s brows, a slight tremor in his hands as he lay still asleep. Then, unexpectedly, Itachi’s shoulders relaxed, and a soft sigh escaped him. Sasuke’s focus deepened, pouring every ounce of his will into this silent prayer for his brother to heal. Beneath his hands, Itachi’s breathing slowed, becoming steadier, no longer the shallow rasps of air.
Just as Sasuke began to feel Itachi's own chakra lightening, freeing itself from the darkness that itseemed to seal itself in, Sasuke felt a tremor pass through Itachi's body. The chakra needles Sasuke had noticed within each of Itachi's centers seemed to dissolve, almost at once, as if they were interconnected somehow. Slowly, the darkness faded completely, and with it, a pale light, dim but steady emerged. Sasuke took a breath and sat back, hoping that this had been the right choice. He knows how integral their energy is to their lives, how deeply it affects their personality and choices and skills. He felt a pang of doubt if this was wise, but at the same time, knew without a doubt that this is exactly what his brother needed.
It was subtle at first—a small shiver, almost imperceptible—but then Itachi's chest began to rise and fall in staccato breaths, catching in his throat.
Sasuke blinked, confused, and saw the shimmer of tears slipping down Itachi’s cheeks, leaving faint tracks in the dim light of the afternoon.
“Itachi?” Sasuke murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
Itachi turned his face slightly away, his hand rising as if to wipe the tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the gesture. He blinked, swallowing hard, his eyes squeezed shut as if to contain the flood of emotions threatening to break free. He took in a shaky breath, his lips parting, and then, in the quiet of that moment, Sasuke heard him murmur, “I’m s… I'm- I'm s-so sorry...”
The words were so faint that Sasuke thought he might have imagined them.
But then Itachi spoke again, his voice cracking. “I’m… sorry, Sasuke... I'm so sorry I didn't explain... I'm so... ”
The apology landed like a stone in Sasuke’s chest, heavy and raw. For so long, he had wanted to hear these words, to force his brother to acknowledge the pain he had inflicted. But now, hearing Itachi's voice—so broken, so vulnerable—something within Sasuke shattered. He hadn’t expected an apology, not like this, and certainly not one that felt so hollow and filled with remorse.
Itachi tried to speak again, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words, but they seemed to fail him. Over and over again. He shook his head, his hand clenching around the fabric of his cloak.
Sasuke watched, feeling a painful lump form in his own throat, as Itachi’s expression crumbled, the strong facade he had worn for years slipping away. The sight of his brother, once so proud and unbreakable, reduced to this… it hurt in ways Sasuke hadn’t anticipated.
“Itachi…” Sasuke’s voice wavered, barely louder than a whisper. He didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to scream, to pour out years of anger and resentment, to demand answers for every tear, every sleepless night. But as he looked at his brother, he felt only a profound sadness, a hollow ache that seemed to mirror Itachi’s own.
“... w... Why didn't you-” Sasuke started, he paused as he felt his throat constrict around his own words, his own tears spilling over. “Why couldn't you tell me anything?”
Itachi swallowed, his throat bobbing as he tried to find his voice. “I wanted… I wanted to protect you, Sasuke.” He let out a choked breath, and his hands trembled as he spoke. “I thought…if you hated me, if you focused on that hatred…you wouldn't find out... you'd be safe. I never wanted this for you…”
Sasuke shook his head, his fists clenching. “All this time, I thought you… I thought you enjoyed it. The killing, the betrayal. I thought you were a monster.”
Itachi’s face twisted, and he looked away, shame coloring his features, "I am". It was the first time that it felt like Itachi had strength in his voice again, and it was to blame himself. To take the burden of loss, of pain, of responsibility, like a big brother always would. The elder Uchiha took a shuddering breath, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I… I was weak. Too weak to protect you in the way that truly mattered. Too weak to… to stop father... to s... to save our family and keep you safe.” His voice broke on the last word, and he covered his face with his Akatsuki cloak, as if he could hide this truth from himself.
It was gut-wrenching sobs that escaped Itachi, as if his soul was crying, trying to return from the hell it had banished himself to.
For a long moment, they sat in silence, the air heavy with grief and regret. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Sasuke reached out and softly, gently tugged back the black and red coat. Itachi looked at him, his eyes red-rimmed, and Sasuke felt a surge of compassion that surprised him. All the anger, the resentment—it was still there, but now, it was mingled with an understanding that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before.
In that moment, Sasuke felt as if he were looking at the brother he had known as a kid, the one who had held his hand, taught him how to throw a shuriken, who had smiled at him with genuine warmth as he flicked his forehead. No longer the killer, not the traitor, but the broken, suffering man who had borne unimaginable burdens on his shoulders to protect his little brother.
“Itachi…,” Sasuke said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I missed you.”
The words hung in the air, simple but powerful, and he could see the way they affected Itachi. His brother’s face softened, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand covering Sasuke’s. For the first time in years, a real, unguarded smile flickered on Itachi’s face—a fleeting, fragile thing, but enough to reveal the depth of his gratitude.
Without another word, Sasuke resumed the reiki, letting his hands move over Itachi’s chakra centers. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing away, as though years of pain and guilt were finally dissolving. Itachi’s breathing steadied, and Sasuke felt his own heart begin to lighten as he worked diligently.
After a while, Itachi spoke again, his voice a bare whisper. “I wish I could have…been a better brother to you... one that looked after you like you deserve.”
Sasuke shook his head, a small, bittersweet smile on his lips. “You were a kid too, Itachi.” He paused, his voice growing softer. “When adults fail they send children to war.”
Itachi took a deep breath, a deep sense of relief filling his lungs, "Saying 'thank you' feels insufficient..." he said and the smallest, softest smile graced his lips.
The younger Uchiha scoffed and sat up straighter, making a show of the jest of confidence in order to lighten the mood, "Well, don't thank me yet, it's a job of a little brother to look after a dumbass older one."
For a moment they sit in silence before a shared, tired but amused, laugh escapes them in tandem. One that's bittersweet and welcome like sunshine through a storm.
A tear rolled down Itachi’s cheek, and this time, he didn’t try to hide it. The two of them laughed together, accepting the unspoken promise of forgiveness, and of the weight of understanding that they are paving the road they've decided to take together.
And for now, that was enough.