Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waking came as a surprise. He hadn't expected to ever open his eyes again.

Light flooded his vision immediately, and he slammed his eyes closed quickly. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face and the hard ground against his back. His entire body felt weary, as if he'd just been through a lengthy battle.

What happened? he wondered. Where am I?

Years of training suppressed the instinctive urge to panic. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even as he allowed his mind time to organize itself. What was the last thing he remembered?

His memory was hazy and not all there, but slowly it began to come back to him, blurred images solidifying and taking shape. He remembered the feeling of a forehead pressed against his own, of his fingers against dark strands of hair; looking into familiar dark eyes, sorrowful and lost.

He remembered the smile that had curled at his lips, and the unshed glint of tears in Sasuke's eyes. I will love you always.

Edo-Tensei, the forbidden jutsu created by Tobirama Senju. He and Sasuke had worked together to dispel it. And Itachi had gotten the chance to speak the truth for the first time in nearly ten years.

He had looked into his brother's eyes and had seen the darkness within them—the hatred that Itachi himself had nurtured. But he also looked within them and had seen a boy; a boy who was lost and in pain, and who wanted to go home but didn't know how.

Itachi had shown him the correct path, and had trusted Naruto enough to guide him down it. He'd been sure Sasuke's face would be the last thing he would ever see, and he'd been at peace with that. He'd said what needed to be said.

He hadn't expected to wake up again.

But how? How am I alive?

And he knew he was alive. This wasn't an attempt at another Edo-Tensei. Under that jutsu he had felt like nothing more than what he was: a reanimated corpse, walking and talking but still undeniably dead. Merely the shadow that Itachi Uchiha had left behind.

But now, he felt truly restored in a way the reanimation jutsu had never accomplished. He could feel the brush of the wind against his skin and the tiny rocks digging into his back; he felt his lungs expand as he drew in breath, and felt the beat of his heart against his ribs.

The reanimation jutsu had awakened his mind and body, but it hadn't restarted his heart. That had stayed cold and dead in his chest.

Reviving the dead—truly reviving them, not just a temporary parlor trick—was supposed to be impossible. It couldn't be done.

And yet, here he was.

Pushing aside the questions whirling through his head—how, when, where, why, who—Itachi focused on searching for any nearby chakra signatures. He was surprised to feel how empty his chakra reserves were—another thing he couldn't explain—but he would still be able to sense if there were any threats close.

There were no traces of chakra in the air. He was alone. Reassured, Itachi finally opened his eyes and got to his feet. Too fast—his vision went fuzzy, the ground beneath him unsteady.

He stumbled, and tried quickly to rebalance, but his legs were too weak to hold his weight. He fell to his knees. He was completely depleted of chakra. The only time he could recall being so exhausted was when he and Sasuke had fought for that final time.

He could feel his consciousness slipping, fading out as quickly as he had regained it. He tried vainly to take in his surroundings, but all he could see was debris. The clear blue sky felt like a mockery.

He fell sideways back onto the ground. How had he gotten into this state? Had he been brought back to life just to die of chakra depletion? His vision darkened, but just before he lost consciousness, his eyes locked on the only speck of color around him—a very familiar symbol.

An uchiwa—a paper fan—bisected in two, the red and white paint old and faded. A crack ran through the cement wall where the symbol was painted.

Uchiha.

 ★

We shouldn't be here, Naruto thought.

He glanced around at the empty homes and buildings stretching out on the abandoned roads surrounding him. Only about half of the buildings were still standing, the other half crushed and falling apart. Sakura stood beside him, glancing around with a solemn expression on her face.

Tucked away and cordoned off from the rest of the village, the old Uchiha complex felt like a ghost town. Every step they took echoed loudly in the silence. Even in the bright light of day, there was something eerie about it; the entire place was steeped in tragedy.

"We shouldn't be here," Naruto repeated, this time out loud. "It doesn't feel right."

"We had to come," said Sakura, though she didn't look any better. There was something fragile about her eyes as she looked around her—perhaps she, like Naruto, was imagining the bodies that had once littered the streets. And how horrific that sight would look to a seven-year-old child. "That stone tablet could hold important knowledge about the Infinite Tsukuyomi. It's important we understand more about Kaguya and exactly what it was she was trying to do."

"It’s been five years. I don’t see why Kakashi-sensei’s so interested in it now." Naruto sighed and kicked a splintered piece of wood at his feet, sending up a plume of dust. "I can't believe this place has just been sitting here like this since Pain invaded."

"They thought about turning it into a shopping district," Sakura said, "but Sasuke-kun refused. He said that people just wanted to paint over the massacre and deny it ever happened. And the property is his, even if he hasn't done anything with it, so he gets final say."

Naruto huffed, torn somewhere between fondness and exasperation. "Sounds like something he'd say."

He wanted to say Sasuke was just clinging to old grudges, as he tended to do, but he knew this time there was truth in what he said. The Uchiha had been a problem previous Hokage had tucked away rather than dealt with. The massacre had been quickly swept under the rug; even quicker now that the ugly truth behind it was known. Konoha didn't want to acknowledge they were culpable in something so awful.

(And then, of course, there were the people who didn’t see it as awful—who saw the judgement carried out as deserved.)

That was one of the things that would change when Naruto was Hokage—that Kakashi was already working towards changing. He planned on building a better Konoha. But the old problems couldn’t be fixed before they were first acknowledged.

As he and Sakura walked, he took in the buildings. The clan's compound, which had been abandoned since Sasuke's departure from Konoha at thirteen, had been crushed in the invasion Pain had led five and a half years ago. With no one living there, no one had found it necessary to rebuild the place—and while Sasuke still had yet to make any decisions regarding the property, he had refused to have the area levelled. It remained here, a somber reminder of Konoha's many mistakes.

The Akatsuki’s attack had left destruction in its wake. In comparison, it seemed almost unfair that the massacre had caused so little physical damage, the true scar of these streets invisible to those who could not feel it for themselves.

Sasuke felt it, Naruto knew. He felt it every day. It was one of the reasons he stayed away.

"Naruto," said Sakura hesitantly, after the silence had lingered, "Sasuke-kun… Sasuke-kun is going to come back, isn't he?"

"I don't know." He frowned, looking around them with sad eyes. "This place holds a lot of memories for him."

"No, that's not…" Something in her voice made Naruto turn to look at her. "Not here. To Konoha."

Oh. Naruto straightened. "Of course he's coming back! It's his home, after all."

“It’s just…” Sakura paused, worrying her bottom lip. “He takes so many missions. And when he does come back, he only stays for a couple days before he’s gone again. What if one day he decides to just not come back at all?”

“That won’t happen,” said Naruto. Sakura still looked unsure, so he flashed her one of his trademark grins. "Besides, he knows that if he runs, I'll just chase after him and drag him back!"

That drew a smile from her, and she laughed. "Always running after him, huh? Even now."

"You bet! I always keep my word!"

Naruto remembered that day at the Valley of the End—he remembered the promise he had made when Sasuke finally agreed to come home. I’ll become Hokage. And when I do, I promise nothing like what happened to your family will ever happen again.

Naruto laced his fingers together behind his head as he walked with Sakura, feeling a bit lighter than he had a few moments before. His grin came easier now, and the sun beating down from above seemed to wash away the darkness clinging to his surroundings. He could almost picture what this place had looked like before, back when Uchiha had mingled and chatted in the streets.

Naruto imagined it—shinobi with the clan crest on their back, smiling and waving hello to their neighbors; families walking home and children laughing, holding their parents' hands; a young Sasuke, smiling as he made his way home, happy in a way Naruto had never gotten to see.

Naruto imagined it, and for a moment it was so real that he forgot he was standing in a graveyard.

"Okay," said Naruto. "Where is this shrine, anyway? That's where the tablet's supposed to be, right?"

"Pain’s invasion collapsed the upper level, but the underground wasn’t touched. There should be a passage around here… Sasuke-kun taught me the jutsu needed to get in…"

Sakura searched among the wreckage of what used to be the Naka Shrine, moving bigger pieces of debris. Naruto's eyes scanned around him, looking for any sort of underground entrance. His eyes landed on a stone wall not far from him, standing tall amidst the rest of the rubble. The Uchiha’s clan symbol was painted on it, though the color had faded with age. There was a small crack in the wall, barely noticeable, bisecting the image of the paper fan in half. Below it—

Naruto's eyes narrowed, and he walked forward to look closer. Is that…?

Beneath the clan symbol was a shape on the ground, the debris partially concealing it from view. Naruto walked toward it and realized it was a man, collapsed and unmoving.

Naruto drew closer, and his eyes grew wide. His feet stopped in their tracks, his breath catching. Impossible.

It was impossible because he recognized the man—recognized him as someone who was long dead. Naruto shook his head violently, rubbing his eyes. But the sight before him didn't change, and with the sun shining so brightly, there could be no doubt in what he was seeing. Long dark hair in a loose ponytail, a black cloak decorated with red clouds, bloodied nails that were painted purple…

"S-Sakura-chan," called Naruto shakily, eyes glued to the body on the ground.

"What?" Sakura asked as she stepped up beside him. "Did you find it—?"

Naruto heard the gasp that escaped her lips, felt her go still. Neither of them spoke, shock freezing their tongues.

Slowly, Naruto ventured forward. He stepped over a few pieces of rubble, then knelt down next to the body, taking in the impossibly familiar features.

Itachi Uchiha.

Naruto's head spun. He felt impossibly dumb and slow, like his head had been stuffed with cotton balls. On autopilot, he reached out and moved the man's hair away from his neck, pressing two fingers to his throat. His skin was cold, but not deathly so.

Sakura's voice was hushed as she asked, "Is… is he…?"

Naruto kept his fingers there for a few seconds, a jolt of shock going through him as he felt the steady thrum-thrum of a pulse. He jerked his hand away like it'd been burned, whipping his head in Sakura's direction.

"Get the Hokage. Now."

 ★

"Explain," Kakashi ordered.

His tone demanded they answer him. It wasn’t the tone of an easy-going sensei, it was the tone of a former ANBU captain. He stood in the doorway of the hospital room, and across from him were Sakura and Naruto. Sakura's hair was pulled out of her face, her pinched eyebrows showing her anxiety. Naruto just looked lost.

And laying unconscious on the hospital bed in front of him, breaths shallow but steady, was a very-much-alive Itachi Uchiha.

Kakashi was too tired for this shit.

"I… found him," Naruto said lamely.

"You found him." At Naruto's answering nod, Kakashi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through the mask. "Okay, Naruto. You're going to have to give me a bit more than that."

Naruto shrugged helplessly. "I don't have more than that.” He looked about as lost as Kakashi felt. "We went to the compound like you said, and he was just there on the ground. We don't know what happened."

“We found him by the Naka Shrine,” Sakura told him. “I came to get you immediately.”

Kakashi drew close to the hospital bed, eyes sharp. Even in sleep, Itachi Uchiha's face was guarded. He looked about the same as he had the last time Kakashi had seen him, during their brief altercation while pursuing Gaara. All hard edges and sharp angles, he managed to paint an intimidating picture even while unconscious.

It was strange to stand so close to him, and not just because he was a dead man. Despite now knowing him to be loyal to the Leaf Village, Kakashi still couldn't help but look at him and see an S-Rank missing-nin. Itachi Uchiha was deadly, and years of instinct were screaming at him not safe, not safe, not safe. It felt wrong to stand so close to him—to let his students stand so close—and not be posed to attack.

Naruto peered down at the bed closely—much too closely, Itachi could kill him in less than a second—and Kakashi's fingers twitched as he resisted the impulse to shove him away.

"Do you think it's the Edo-Tensei again?" Naruto asked.

It was Sakura who answered, shaking her head without looking up. “Obviously not, Naruto. Does it look like the Edo-Tensei?”

The jinchuuriki huffed. “He was dead, and now he’s not dead. Seems like a pretty reasonable conclusion to me.”

“For one, his skin isn’t cracking apart, so it’s obviously not the same. And he’s clearly radiating body heat—”

“How am I supposed to know that? I wasn’t the one putting my hands all over him—”

Sakura’s face went pink. “I was checking his chakra levels, idiot!”

“Enough,” Kakashi said, stepping in before Naruto could find himself with a Tsunade-style punch to the face. He turned to Sakura. “How do you know this is different?”

Sakura quickly calmed down, refocusing on their current situation. "The Edo-Tensei restored the soul to its body, but it didn't bring the body back to life. The bodies still didn't function at all—there was no heartbeat, no blood pumping through the veins. There's a reason it's called the reanimation jutsu, not the resurrection jutsu."

"Then what could it be?"

She stared down at Itachi, eyes a mixture of awe and confusion. Just like with Naruto, Kakashi had to quench the urge to shove her back to a safer distance.

“He’s completely depleted of chakra,” she said, “but other than that, his body is functioning perfectly. As far as I can tell, he's as alive as you or me.”

“Is he sick?” Naruto asked. At Sakura’s questioning look, he explained, “Sasuke told me that Itachi was sick when he died. That he was taking medication just to keep himself alive.”

Kakashi frowned. “I never knew that.”

“He only mentioned it to me briefly. He didn’t know anything about it, that’s just what Obito told him.”

Kakashi resisted the urge to wince at the name.

“I didn’t find any sign of illness when I was scanning his chakra,” Sakura said. “But without knowing what the disease is, I can’t be a hundred percent certain it isn’t there.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at the unconscious figure. Kakashi remembered clearly how those people under Kabuto's reanimation jutsu had looked. He would never forget the shock of seeing his sensei standing there, his hand wrapped around his wrist halting him from slashing open Obito's throat. Minato had been undeniably dead despite the fact that he had been walking around and talking. His skin had been gray and cracking apart, freezing cold to the touch; there had been no spark of light in his eyes. He hadn't been given life again, none of them had. They'd just been shoved back inside someone else’s rotting corpse.

Itachi Uchiha—if it was truly him—looked nothing like that. His skin was pale, but there was an unmistakable flush of life to his face. His chest rose and fell as he breathed, puffs of air escaping his lips. Kakashi looked down at him, at the lines around his eyes that made him look so much older than he was, and couldn't help but think mournfully of the young child who had worked under him in ANBU over a decade ago. There was hardly a hint of that child left in his face.

"Maybe it's like what Nagato did?" Naruto wondered. "You know, when he brought everyone back who'd died?"

"But who would do that?" Sakura wondered. "That jutsu is super powerful. You need the Rinnegan to perform it. And you have to sacrifice your own life. Who would do that just to bring back Itachi?"

"Sasuke," said Naruto immediately, without hesitation. Then his eyes widened in horror as the implications of that sunk in. "Oh god, what if it was Sasuke!? What if he brought Itachi back and is lying dead somewhere and we don't even know because we haven't seen him in months and—"

"Naruto," Kakashi cut him off. "Breathe. It wasn't Sasuke. His Rinnegan doesn't possess the ability of the Outer Path." At least, he didn’t think it did.

"Oh," Naruto said, the single syllable laced in relief as the panic began to slowly fade from his face. "You're sure?"

"Yes. And even if Sasuke could perform the technique, I doubt he would. A few years ago, probably. But he knows better now."

(Does he? Kakashi thought, with a sliver of doubt. He shoved that quiet voice away.)

Naruto frowned. "But then who would have done it? Sasuke's the only one I can think of who'd want Itachi back that badly."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves. We don't know anything about what happened. We don't even know if it's really Itachi. I'm more concerned with confirming his identity before getting into the how."

"A disguise? You think it's a henge?"

"He has next to no chakra right now," Sakura answered before Kakashi could. "He wouldn't be able to sustain a henge in his state. Same with any type of genjutsu."

Naruto threw his hands up in frustration. "Well, if it's not that, then it's gotta be him, right?"

Kakashi closed his eyes. He could feel a migraine developing behind his eyes. This situation was unprecedented, and he didn't know how to proceed. But now his former students were looking at him searchingly; they expected him to know how to deal with this, not just because he was the Hokage, but because he was their sensei. They had grown into extraordinarily capable shinobi, but they still looked to him when they didn't know what to do. He needed to handle this.

"Sakura," he said. "Keep him here in a private ward and monitor him closely. Don't speak about this to anyone but me. Naruto, that includes you. Did anyone see you two bring him here?"

"I don't think so," Naruto said. "Or at least, I don't think anyone recognized him."

Kakashi allowed himself to feel slight relief. He didn’t need this getting out before he had decided how to handle it. He was already dreading the conversation he would be having with the two elders…

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura spoke up hesitantly. “What about Sasuke-kun?”

Kakashi’s mouth became a thin line at the reminder. Dammit. Sasuke.

Kakashi hadn't even begun to consider how he was going to handle him. Sasuke hadn't been home to the village in months—too busy dealing with a gang of rogue ninja that held connections with the Ōtsutsuki Clan—but Kakashi knew he'd race back to Konoha in a heartbeat if he knew what was happening. Was telling him now the best thing? Sasuke deserved to know about this. But what if it wasn't Itachi, and was instead a part of some elaborate ruse? What would telling him do, other than rip open old wounds? Could Kakashi knowingly give him hope at the risk of watching it be crushed?

The mission he was on wasn’t too important, and he was due back any day now. It was possible he had already completed it. It would be easy enough to recall him back to the village. But should he?

Naruto read the indecision on his face and grew indignant. "You are telling him, aren’t you? We're not keeping this from him! No way!"

"I’ll contact him," Kakashi said. “But not yet.” He looked down at Itachi. "I want to talk with him when he wakes up first."

Naruto and Sakura exchanged looks. “Alright,” Naruto said. “But you better do it right after. Because if you don’t tell him and he finds out some other way, you know he’ll be completely pissed.”

Kakashi grimaced at the thought. “Believe me, I know. I’ll have Sai send the message out so it will reach him quickly.”

He definitely wasn’t looking forward to writing that message. Exactly how did you tell someone their dead brother was alive via a letter…?

Ugh. Kakashi resisted the urge to sink into the chair by Itachi’s bedside. Why did I agree to become the Hokage again?

 ★

Naruto stood outside of the hospital room, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. He leaned against the hallway wall, then looked to his left at Sakura. She was staring blankly at the wall opposite of her, her green eyes reflecting deep thought.

“You okay?” Naruto asked.

Sakura nodded. “Yeah, it’s just… it’s a lot. What do you think happened?”

He shook his head, at a complete loss. “No idea. Hopefully Itachi can tell us when he wakes up…”

He frowned down at the gold wedding band on his hand, twisting it around on his finger. This entire situation was insane. What had Itachi even been doing out there, in the abandoned Uchiha district? And who was responsible for this? If it really was Itachi… then what was going to happen?

Itachi Uchiha had been a loyal shinobi to Konoha. But he had also been a criminal, and many of the actions he had taken to protect the Leaf hadn’t been officially sanctioned. Would he be tried for the crimes he had committed? Would he be completely pardoned of any wrongdoing? Naruto wasn’t too knowledgeable when it came to matters of politics, so he wasn’t sure how a situation like this would be handled.

Naruto worried about Sasuke's reaction to the news. He knew how much his friend missed his brother, and how haunted he was by all the sacrifices Itachi had made for his sake. But he also knew that there was a lot of unresolved issues there, a lot of pain Itachi had caused him that hadn't been properly worked through. Sasuke had finally gotten to an alright place after everything; the last thing Naruto wanted for his friend was for all of that pain to be dredged back up.

"Do you think it's safe, having him in there?" Sakura questioned.

Naruto looked back up at her and shrugged. "Sure. I don't see why anyone would be after him."

Sakura gave him a look. Oh, he thought. She didn't mean safe for Itachi. She meant safe from Itachi.

"Itachi's loyal to Konoha, remember?" he reminded her with a frown. "You know the truth about what happened."

"I know," she said uneasily. "It's just... I remember how dangerous he was. His eyes were so cold. It's hard to forget."

Naruto winced. It was understandable for Sakura to be wary of Itachi. She hadn't seen what he had. He had fought alongside Itachi briefly while he was under the reanimation jutsu, and in that short time he had come to respect the man. His devotion to Konoha had been steadfast and deep, and his love for Sasuke had been even more so. But Sakura hadn't been there. The only memories she had of Itachi were of a ruthless criminal—it would be difficult for her to see him as anything other than the man who had ruined Sasuke's life.

(Don’t get him wrong—some of the things Itachi had put Sasuke through had been needlessly cruel and unnecessary. But those things were for Sasuke to judge, not Naruto.)

"I get that it's difficult to see after everything," he said. "But Itachi loves Konoha more than anyone. He would never hurt any of the people living here. Especially not Sasuke."

"He hurt him before," Sakura pointed out, green eyes glistening with poorly-hidden concern.

Naruto went silent at the truth in those words, and remembered icy eyes and a ruthless hand around Sasuke's throat, remembered Sasuke screaming and screaming and screaming. He shivered.

"He didn't have a choice," he told her. "He had orders. It's horrible, but he had to do it."

Had to kill the clan, sure. But that day at the hotel—Sasuke had already been broken, was it really necessary to break him again?

Naruto shoved the thought away. He understood Itachi's decisions and the intentions behind them. He didn't necessarily agree with all of them, but he understood them.

"At least this means Sasuke-kun will be back now," said Sakura. Naruto forced a grin.

"Yep! And I can finally yell at the bastard for being gone so long!"

“He’s been fulfilling his duty as a shinobi, Naruto. It’s not like he’s been taking a vacation.”

“He could still write, at least!”

There was a lapse in the conversation before Sakura asked hesitantly, "Do you think... Sasuke-kun will be happy if it's really his brother?"

Naruto paused to think. "I don't know," he said. "I think so." I hope so.

 ★

"Itachi, just promise me this."

His hands were shaking on the hilt of his sword, sticky with blood that wasn't his. He stared down at them, kneeling in front of him on the wooden floor, and his father's words wrapped around his chest and bound him in place like wire-string.

"Take care of Sasuke."

Tears filled his eyes. Grief and despair rose up in his throat, choking him. "I will," he promised, the last promise he would ever make them, and he thought he might be sick.

The tears spilled down his cheeks unchecked, fell onto his hands and washed away the blood like rain. He brought his sword down on their necks.

Blood splashed through the air, red droplets flying, and their bodies crumpled, lifeless at his feet. His father landed face-down against his mother's chest, his blood soaking into her shirt; red pooled around her head, seeping into her dark hair. Itachi shook and shook and shook, and there was a familiar presence beyond the doors, small footsteps against the wooden floor.

The door opened slowly, and his little brother stepped into a nightmare, his eyes wide and terrified and pleading. "Itachi—!"

Itachi's eyes snapped open to a white ceiling and the smell of antiseptic, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Sasuke's expression, the sheer horror behind his eyes, was burned into the back of his eyelids. He closed his eyes tight, his hands clenching in the sheets of the bed he was laying on, but the memory refused to fade.

"Pleasant dreams?" said a cheery voice, and Itachi's eyes snapped back open to lock on the figure by his bedside. Kakashi Hatake was sitting in a chair against the wall to his left, a book held in his hand as he watched him.

At first glance the man looked relaxed, completely at ease, but a closer look revealed the tension in his muscles, the defensive stance he hid behind an open expression and carefree slouch. He didn't look much different than last time Itachi had encountered him. Two dark eyes watched him carefully, and Itachi noted the absence of his Sharingan with some surprise.

His head was fuzzy and disoriented from his dream, his chest aching with a grief that was nearly a decade old. He shoved it down and refocused himself, quickly trying to gain some vigilance in his unfamiliar surroundings. The thought that he'd been so unguarded in someone else's presence made him uncomfortable.

He tried to push himself up from the cot he was laying on, quickly finding his arms to be much weaker than they should be. His unease increased, and he narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. "What is going on?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that, actually." Kakashi snapped his book closed to give Itachi his full attention, leaning forward. "You were found near the Naka Shrine a couple hours ago and brought to the hospital. You've exhausted all of your chakra, so you're probably feeling rather weak."

That sparked a memory. He remembered now, waking up on the ground, chakra-less and weak as an untrained child. He'd seen the Uchiha Clan crest before he'd passed out—he’d thought he'd only been hallucinating.

"Tell me," Kakashi said to him, his eyes sharp and locked on Itachi's face. "How exactly does a man come back from the dead?"

Itachi kept his face and eyes blank, revealing nothing of the confusion swirling inside his head. He recalled Naruto mentioning that Kakashi knew the truth—but he had no idea how much time had passed since then, and he was currently defenseless.

"I fail to see reason why I should offer any information to an enemy."

They locked eyes for a moment, neither of them budging. Then Kakashi sighed. "I don't have time for this, so I'm going to just cut straight to it. I know the truth. About the massacre, about the coup d’état, everything. I know that you were under orders. So let's drop the cloak and dagger shtick. I'm not your enemy."

Itachi processed that information without surprise—but he still felt a shock go through him, nonetheless. To hear the truth be spoken about so bluntly, so openly, after years of keeping it hidden away... it left him feeling unbalanced.

"You asked me what was going on," said Itachi. He kept his tone neutral, though not as cold as it had been previously. "This means you don't know?"

"No. We have no idea how this has happened. And from your confusion, I gather you don't either." His former ANBU captain sank back into the chair, sighing in disappointment. "Damn."

Itachi remained silent for a moment, weighing his thoughts. "Kakashi-san—"

"Sama, actually," the man corrected, looking a bit sheepish. Upon catching Itachi's perplexed look, he clarified, "I'm Hokage now, it seems. I know, I was shocked as well. If I'd known I'd be dealing with mysterious resurrections, I might've considered turning down the position."

Itachi didn't react, though inwardly he felt a flash of surprise. It wasn't that he thought Kakashi Hatake incapable of being Hokage—quite the opposite—but rather, he'd never seemed like the type of man to want the position. Still, it explained why he was the one here talking to him instead of the Godaime.

He frowned slightly. "How long..."

"You've been dead for nearly six years now," said Kakashi. "The war's been over for about five. We beat Madara, and the Akatsuki have disbanded. The Five Nations are at peace."

Itachi tried to process this—and failed. It was wonderful news, but it was too much at once. His head spun like crazy trying to take it all in. Still, one burning question rose above the noise, begging to be voiced.

"And..." He hesitated before continuing, too used to having to hide his concern. "And Sasuke?"

Kakashi hesitated. Itachi could tell he was still suspicious of the situation. But then he said, "He's alive," and Itachi had to fight incredibly hard to conceal the wave of relief that crashed over him. "Not in the village currently, but I'll be contacting him."

An emotion he couldn't identify welled up in his chest at the thought—of seeing Sasuke, of speaking with him. He remembered once again how lost his brother had looked, how pained, when he'd pressed their foreheads together. I will love you always. He forced it away for now.

Did this mean his brother had returned to the village? Had Naruto managed to do as he said he would?

"I assume by your hesitance to give me information that you doubt my identity."

"One of the medical ninjas checked you over while you were unconscious, and nothing seemed off. However, until we have further proof of your identity there are certain things I can't risk telling you."

Itachi inclined his head. "I understand."

Kakashi stood from his chair, stuffing his book in the front pocket of his vest. "Good. You are to remain here until I say otherwise. Your identity will need to be confirmed before we can decide how else to proceed."

Kakashi walked toward the door, but paused, hesitating just before he exited. He looked back, his eyes serious.

"This village is indebted to you," he said. "What was asked of you went far beyond the call of duty, and Konoha owes you its gratitude. Thank you."

Itachi had no idea what to say to that, struck silent. The door closed with a soft click, those last two words still echoing in Itachi's ears.

Chapter Text

“Hyouton: Mangehyo!”

Sasuke threw himself to the snow-covered ground as his opponent sent another wave of ice in his direction. The sharp spears of ice sliced through the air above him, close enough for him to feel the film of frost form on his skin. Sasuke rolled, coming back up in a crouch. He steadied himself with a hand against the ground.

His visible eye burning a blood-red, he focused on the man in front of him. A nameless missing-nin from Kirigakure who had defected during the Fourth Shinobi War, and was now trying to carry out Madara’s Eye of the Moon Plan. He specialized in Ice Release.

It was unfortunate for him he was facing an Uchiha. Fire would always be stronger than ice.

With his hand, Sasuke formed a single seal. The chakra gathered in his chest and rose up in his throat, sparking and catching fire as it left his lips.

Katon.

The Kiri-nin threw up a wall of ice as the fireball raced toward him, but the heat of the flames burned straight through it. He threw himself to the ground, barely managing to dodge.

He pushed himself back up, facing Sasuke with feverish eyes. “Peace is nothing more than an illusion! It can never exist in this reality! I thought you of all people would see this!” He brought his hands together, flashing through seals rapidly. “I thought you had seen the light!”

Spikes of ice erupted from the ground. Sasuke leaped into the air to avoid them before touching back down.

He thought of that moment on the ground next to Naruto, the both of them slowly bleeding out. The peace that had settled over his heart, as a smile had curved his lips. I admit it. I lost.

Sasuke looked at the shinobi in front of him. “I did,” he answered.

Sending a burst of chakra to his feet, Sasuke rushed him. In a smooth motion, he unsheathed his sword from his hip, dropping close to the ground and letting the tip of the blade nearly skim the ground. The freezing air felt like glass against his face.

His Sharingan easily caught his opponent’s hand movements, flashing rapidly through seals. The Kiri-nin dropped to his knees, palms glowing blue as he pressed his hands to the icy ground, infusing it with his chakra.

“Hyourou no Jutsu!”

Ice Prison Jutsu. It was easily avoidable, but Sasuke allowed it to hit him.

The ice from the ground rose up, encasing him in a prism of ice. Sasuke’s body went numb with cold immediately, his limbs frozen in place. The other shinobi's lips curled up victoriously.

Sasuke’s left eye widened. The rings of his Rinnegan swirled together, activating the space-time jutsu. Amenotejikara.

Reality distorted, squeezing him as their positions shifted. And suddenly, Sasuke was standing in his opponent’s place, and his opponent was encased in his own prison.

The other man’s eyes were wide in surprise. Sasuke’s hair fell back over his face, once again hiding the Rinnegan from sight.

Calmly, Sasuke walked over to the ice prison, staring into the man’s furious face. “Surrender to Konoha,” he said, “and I won’t be forced to kill you.”

(Something in Sasuke still twisted as he said the words, despite the five years that had passed since his return. Surrender to Konoha—the same demand that had once been levelled at him. And now he was standing in their place. The same place as the people who had tried to silence him from speaking the truth—

He didn’t regret his decision to come back. But the doubt never fully left his mind.)

The nuke-nin’s face twisted with rage. His hands glowed blue again, siphoning the chakra he had pooled into the ice. The prison quickly collapsed, and he lunged for Sasuke's throat.

Sasuke avoided the kunai easily, gripping the arm that had attempted the strike and then ducking under it, pivoting fluidly on his heel and then using the arm to throw his opponent over his shoulder. The Kiri-nin flipped in the air, landing on his feet and preparing another strike, but Sasuke was already in front of him. He pressed the tip of his sword against the vital point just above the older man’s waist.

His opponent froze. At this angle, Sasuke’s sword would pierce straight through his spinal cord, leaving him paralyzed. The anger fell from his face, replaced by a desperate edge of fear.

“Wait,” he said. “Wait!” He trembled, a wild desperation in his voice. “You’re making a mistake—we can still have peace—think about it! A world without pain, without suffering! Without death! We can all live the way we want! Your family—you can have them back—!”

Sasuke’s grip on Kusanagi tightened, his knuckles turning white. His teeth snapped down so hard that the impact rattled through his jawbone.

“Thanks,” he said, a cold fury turning his veins to ice, “but I’ll pass.”

He didn’t use Amaterasu, or even a simple Chidori. This nameless criminal wasn’t worth that type of power. Instead, he just shifted his grip on his sword, angling the tip of the blade up.

“I’ve had my fill of the darkness.”

The blade pierced his opponent just below his ribcage, sliding up into his heart. The man choked, blue eyes wide, and admitted a wet, gurgling sound. A drop of blood fell from the corner of his lips.

His eyes went dead and cold, body slumping and held up only by the sword in his chest. Sasuke lowered the body to the ground, using his foot to push the body off and slide the blade free. It came back red with blood.

Sasuke grimaced. He wiped the blade on the frozen ground, then sheathed Kusanagi at his hip. The mention of his family had provoked him, and he worked to settle the roiling emotion in his chest. It was stupid to let such a small comment get to him.

He was still standing there a few moments later, when the bird dropped down from the sky. Sasuke looked up in surprise when he heard the sharp caw, immediately recognizing it as one of Sai’s creations. He pulled an empty scroll from his belt, throwing it to the ground and letting it roll out. The cartoon bird disappeared when it hit the paper, replaced by glistening ink.

Sasuke bent down to pick it up, examining Sai’s meticulous handwriting closely. It was a missive sent by way of Kakashi, requesting his return to Konoha as soon as possible.

He frowned down at it for a moment. There was no more information other than that—just orders to return. It made him uneasy.

Sasuke turned his gaze to the body at his feet. His Sharingan activated, morphing into the Mangekyou.

“Amaterasu.”

The body caught fire, the black flames devouring it quickly. He reached down and rolled the scroll back up, returning it to his waist. He thought of the village and the confusing mix of emotions that came with it, and was filled with equal feelings of longing and reluctance.

Sasuke sighed. He let the Sharingan fade from his eyes, turning his back on the flames. It was time to head home.

 ★

"Your mind is all kinds of screwed up," the Yamanaka told him after less than twenty seconds inside his head.

Itachi wasn't sure what to say to that, and simply raised an eyebrow at the woman. Quickly growing unnerved, she dropped her hand from his shoulder—the point of physical contact she had used to establish the link between their minds—and stepped away from him. The place where her hand had been prickled uncomfortably.

"Well?" Kakashi was leaning against the closed door of the room, where he'd been observing as the she rooted through his mind. "What's the verdict?

"Itachi Uchiha, from everything I saw," the Yamanaka told him. She looked slightly familiar, though Itachi couldn't place from where. "His mind's locked up tight, so I only got a cursory glance, but I didn't sense any type of deceit. Everything felt genuine."

Kakashi made a thoughtful noise. "Only a cursory glance, huh?"

"He's a locked box," she said with a glance in his direction. "I could go in deeper, but it would take a lot more time."

Itachi's muscles tensed very slightly. Allowing someone to skim the surface of his mind had already made him extremely uncomfortable; the idea of her delving any deeper than that was terrifying. There was a reason he locked up his mind so tightly. His head was a tangled mess of wires, and some doors were meant to stay shut.

His expression didn't change, but his face must have done something, because after glancing at him, Kakashi shook his head.

"No, that's fine. You're sure? Nothing felt… off?"

"His mind felt no different than anyone else's. The feelings I got were authentic. If he's not Itachi Uchiha, he fully believes that he is."

Kakashi nodded. "Thank you, Ino. You can go. And get Sakura for me, would you?"

The woman nodded, obeying with a respectful bow, and Kakashi moved from the door so she could exit. Her gaze lingered on Itachi for a moment, wary and uncertain, before she turned and left the room.

It had been nearly a day since Itachi had woken up five years in the future, and his mind was still struggling to catch up with what he’d been told. He’d been given a chance to shower, so he was no longer covered in a film of dirt, and he had washed the blood out from beneath his fingernails. He had also been provided with a fresh change of clothes, so he no longer wore the tattered, ruined Akatsuki cloak that he had died in.

It occurred to him to wonder how he had woken up wearing it. He hadn’t been wearing it when he had been reanimated. Did that mean that this was his original body? But if it was, then how could he still have his eyes?

Thinking about it made his head hurt. Thinking about any of it made his head hurt. Nothing made sense to him, and everything was just too much.

He shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural.

Itachi turned his gaze to Kakashi, refocusing his thoughts. “Is that adequate proof for you?” he asked.

"As much proof as I'm gonna get." The Sixth leaned against the door with a sigh. "It's looking like you really are Itachi. Honestly, it would've been a lot easier if you were just an imposter. This opens up a whole set of questions I don't have answers to. You really don't remember anything?"

"Just waking up." Itachi thought back to that moment—the surrealness of feeling the sun on his face and the dirt beneath his fingers. "I was in the Uchiha compound. I tried to get up, but I was too weak and passed out. Then I woke up in here."

"What about before that? What do you last remember then?"

Itachi took a breath. At the moment, memory felt like a sharp-toothed creature scraping against his mind. And this particular memory was much too vivid, much too near.

He'd been told that nearly five years had passed, but to him it felt like only yesterday. He remembered the anguish in his little brother's eyes as he smiled and told him he loved him. The corpse his soul had been stuffed in had been unable to feel any type of physical sensation, and he remembered resting their foreheads together, wishing more than anything he could feel the warmth of Sasuke's skin. He remembered the feeling of his body crumbling; he'd been sad to go, but he'd been content in the knowledge that he'd said all that needed to be said. Sasuke would be okay.

And then he'd opened his eyes what seemed like seconds later, and none of it felt real. Nothing made sense, and all of it was wrong.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. This wasn’t what he’d planned.

"I remember being under the Edo-Tensei," he responded. His voice betrayed none of the conflict happening inside his head. "I'd managed to break the control Kabuto had over my body, and Sasuke and I incapacitated him to put an end to the jutsu. My spirit left my body, and then… I was here."

Kakashi frowned beneath his mask, deep in thought. Itachi watched him in silence, reminded of their days together in ANBU. The majority of their operations had been stealth missions; sometimes they would sit together for hours, not moving, not speaking. The quiet became comfortable.

It wasn't comfortable now. Nothing felt comfortable. He felt displaced in his own skin, and the entire world felt unbalanced. He'd been prepared to die, spent the past nine years of his life meticulously planning every little detail that would lead to his death. Now all the blueprints had been thrown out, and he didn't have a map to work from. He'd accomplished everything he set out to do. He'd protected Konoha. He gave Sasuke the vengeance he desired, allowed him to have closure. Sasuke had killed him. He wasn't supposed to survive, he was supposed to be dead. He'd expected to be dead.

He'd never thought about what he might do if he lived. He hadn't allowed himself to hope, to want, because there had never been any point. He'd always planned to die—had made that resolution the moment Danzo had given him the order. He'd signed his own death certificate the moment he'd brought his sword down on their necks.

Now, he was alive—shocked back into a world he'd made peace with leaving behind. And he had nothing to guide him this time, no goal or purpose to direct his focus toward. He was just here. Somehow.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Who had done this to him, and for what reason?

"I contacted Sasuke," said Kakashi. The sound of his brother's name brought Itachi's mind snapping sharply out of his spiraling thoughts. "He's out of the village on a mission, but the letter should have reached him by now. He’ll be home in a couple of days."

The thought of seeing Sasuke filled Itachi’s chest with an indescribable emotion. Silently, he mused over the man's wording. Home. He wondered, did Sasuke consider Konoha home? Had he managed to put aside his hatred and forgive the Leaf for what they had done? Had he forgiven Itachi?

Itachi hesitated a moment before speaking up. “Rokudaime-sama—”

“Maah.” He waved his hand through the air at the title. “I was just kidding yesterday. Kakashi is fine.”

“Sasuke…” Itachi paused, then asked carefully, “Is he… happy?”

Kakashi paused, his eyes becoming pensive. It was a long moment before he spoke, and Itachi’s heart twisted in his chest, waiting for the response.

Please tell me he’s okay. Tell me I didn’t break him completely.

"He's better," Kakashi said finally, his words carefully chosen. "He's a lot better."

Itachi nodded, running the word through his head, analyzing every inch of the way it was said. Better.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be dead. I can’t just… step back into the village.”

“Why not?” Kakashi said with a shrug. At Itachi’s disbelieving look, he explained, “Look, no one knows how you’re alive. But you are. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you, and you’re not a criminal anymore, so there’s no reason to keep you locked up.”

Itachi looked at him skeptically, and Kakashi sighed. “You’re a shinobi of Konoha,” he said. “You’re a hero. It’s a delicate situation, and it’ll have to be handled slowly, but you’re not a prisoner here.”

Itachi's mind choked on the word. Hero. Having it applied to himself made him feel nauseous. He curled his fingers into his palms, feeling the blood of every single Uchiha clinging to his skin.

I’m not, he thought. I've never been.

He hadn’t wanted this. No one was ever supposed to know.

“And the truth,” he said carefully. “It’s known to everyone now?”

Kakashi watched him closely. “It is.”

Itachi’s mouth became a thin line. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. He was a murderer and a traitor—and he hadn’t wished to ever be known as anything else. He’d wanted Sasuke to keep the image of the Uchiha as being a proud and noble clan. He’d wanted everyone to.

The both of them were silent for a moment, Kakashi watching him closely. Kakashi’s eyes seemed to indicate that he was debating something, his jaw working. Finally, he pushed himself off the door and took a step closer.

“Look,” he started. “About Sasuke—”

The door opened suddenly, knocking into Kakashi, who was still standing near it. Kakashi’s words broke off, and Itachi’s eyes darted quickly to the half-open doorway.

"Oh! Sorry, Sensei."

A young woman with pink hair slipped into the room. Itachi recognized her immediately as one of Sasuke's former genin teammates. She had been there in the forest that day—part of the team sent to rescue the Ichibi from the Akatsuki.

Her eyes flickered over to Itachi for a moment. They darted away extremely quick, her muscles becoming tense.

She looked to the Rokudaime. “Ino said you needed me for something?”

“Yes,” Kakashi said. He gestured toward Itachi. “I need you to examine Itachi more thoroughly.”

The young woman blinked. Itachi remembered Kakashi’s words yesterday about a medic-nin looking him over, and quickly surmised that it must have been her.

Kakashi turned to look at him. “I was told you were sick before you died. Do you think you still are?”

Itachi blinked at the words, realizing he hadn’t thought about it. It was unlike him to overlook something like that, especially considering how long he had lived with the illness. It had ravaged his body for over five years; he should have noted its absence immediately.

Perhaps it was his time under the reanimation jutsu that had caused him to forget it so easily. He hadn’t been ill then, either.

“I don’t think so,” he answered. “I feel perfectly healthy.”

The pink-haired woman stepped further into the room, a slight frown on her face. “That doesn’t necessarily mean the disease is gone. It could have been regressed to its early stages. It’s best if I examine your chakra properly in order to be sure. You were completely depleted of it yesterday, which made it hard to get a clear picture. If you don’t mind?”

She wasn’t quite looking him in the eye. She obviously felt very uncomfortable in his presence. But she was attempting to put her discomfort aside, speaking to him in a professional tone of voice. Not warm, but not quite cold either.

Itachi gave her a nod. “Go ahead.”

Kakashi pushed himself off of the wall. “Well, I’ve got paperwork, so I’ve better go. Sakura, come see me in my office when you’re finished.

She acknowledged his words with a nod. He gave Itachi a wave before slipping out.

She turned to look at him once he had left. “I don’t know if you remember me,” she said. “I’m Sakura Haruno.”

He nodded. “You’re Sasuke’s teammate.”

Her lips thinned, and she nodded. Itachi watched her closely, remembering her from the only altercation they had ever had. She had never spoken to him, but Itachi clearly recalled the loathing in her green eyes, the desire to destroy. He also recalled a child with the same eyes, same hair, dogging his brother's footsteps at the Academy, grasping desperately for just a hint of his attention.

She was older now. No younger than him. And it hit him suddenly, abruptly, that this young woman whom he vaguely remembered from years before, once a tiny child no taller than his hip… was the same age as his brother.

He’s the same age as me now, Itachi realized. The realization was jarring.

It was inconceivable to him. Sasuke was his younger brother. His otouto. The idea of them being the same age was impossible for him to imagine. In his head, Sasuke was that same seventeen-year-old he had bid farewell to less than two days ago. He couldn’t picture him any older.

For the first time since waking, Itachi realized he had absolutely no idea what to expect when he finally saw Sasuke again. Five years had passed. Sasuke would no longer be the angry, lost, hurting child he had left behind. He would be completely different. He would be grown up.

Itachi wasn't sure how he was going to handle that. He allowed himself to wonder for a moment what Sasuke would look like. Would he be tall, like their father? Would his hair be longer or shorter? Would his skin still be pale, just as their mother’s had been? He tried to picture his little brother’s eyes, tried to imagine a lightness to them he remembered from before everything went wrong, tried to picture them brimming with happiness and contentment now that all was said and done. Itachi tried his best to build an image of a warm, loving Sasuke with happy eyes, but all that came was pools of black filled with anguish and darkness.

That Sasuke is gone, his mind whispered, heedless of the way it tore at his heart. You destroyed him.

Itachi shoved the thoughts from his head and forced himself to refocus. Sakura Haruno was watching him hesitantly, one of her feet shifting slightly. She hadn’t started trying to examine him yet; Itachi could practically see the words that were lingering on her lips, held uncertainly between her teeth.

"Was there something you wanted to say to me, Haruno-san?" he inquired.

Sakura released a shaky breath through her lips, hesitating. Then she squared her shoulders, staring directly at him. Her eyes, previously unsure, were now like steel.

"Sasuke-kun means a great deal to me," she said. "I don't know how you've come back, but if it makes him even the tiniest bit happy, then I'm glad. Everyone's known the truth about the massacre since the war ended—everything you did to keep Konoha safe."

Itachi waited, not speaking. He could hear the but on the end of that sentence.

"I can't imagine what you must have gone through," she told him, “but what you did to Sasuke-kun is still unforgivable. He tore himself apart because of you—I watched it happen. You broke him, and that doesn't change, however good your intentions. I will never forgive you for that."

Itachi said nothing, didn't bother to defend himself against her words. He knew them to be true. He let them sink into his chest and wrap around his lungs, whispering to him every time he breathed. You broke him, you broke him.

He killed their clan in cold blood, then trapped his seven-year-old brother in a Tsukuyomi and made him watch it, over and over and over. He'd told his brother he'd never loved him, that he wasn't even worth enough to him to kill, and he'd smiled in the face of his tears. He'd felt Sasuke's bones break beneath his hands, felt his throat bruise beneath his fingers; he'd took a hold of his brother's mind, and he'd listened to it snap.

Sakura Haruno hated him. That was fine. That was expected.

He hated himself more than she could ever hate him.

"I won't let you hurt him again," she told him fiercely.

Itachi's eyes sharpened. "I would never hurt Sasuke. Not again."

"I bet you said that before, too."

Her words gave him pause. Because they were true, weren't they? Hadn't he always told Sasuke, before the massacre, that he would never let anyone hurt him? That 'big brother will always protect you'? Yet despite all the promises made, look what he had done.

I would never hurt Sasuke. Those words meant nothing. They were meaningless.

"I know you're loyal to Konoha," said Sakura. "You remind me of Naruto in that way. You would die for this village easily. You give everything to keep it safe, even when all it does is take in return. But there's one way in which you and Naruto will always differ."

He looked at her, knowing he didn't want to hear it, but asking anyway. "And what's that?"

She smiled sadly. "You'll always be a shinobi before a brother."

The words hit him squarely in the heart, spreading across his lungs like ice. He barely reacted, but he felt like he'd been punched.

You'll always be a shinobi before a brother.

Because he couldn't deny it. As much as every cell in his body wanted to, he couldn't deny it.

His words to Sasuke came back to him: No matter what darkness may lay within the village, I am still Itachi Uchiha of the Leaf.

"I don't know if there will ever come a time when your love for Sasuke-kun and Konoha need to be weighed, but I won't see him hurt like that again. He deserves so much better than what you've given him."

Itachi stared at her—at the passion in her eyes, and the set of her jaw, and the steel in her voice. He heard the devotion in each of her words, and saw the protectiveness written in every line of her stance.

"You're in love with him," he realized.

Sakura's cheeks colored slightly, but her gaze never wavered.

"Hurt him," she said, "and I'll kill you. I don't care how powerful you are, I'll find a way."

Itachi stared at this woman, and the threat should have been ludicrous. She wasn't any younger than him, but he could tell that in terms of skill, he had her far outranked. It would be too easy to kill her; he could do it right now, and she wouldn't even realize what had happened until her body had hit the floor.

Yet, somehow, Sakura Haruno declared she would kill him, and looking into her eyes, sharp and firm and determined—

Itachi's lips turned up into a smile. He believed her.

 ★

The journey back to Konoha took Sasuke a little over a day. He hadn’t stopped to rest in that time, so when he stepped through the village gates, exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He wasn’t too excited about giving his report. Kakashi probably wasn’t going to be too happy that he had killed the nuke-nin, instead of taking him alive, even if the only useful information he’d seemed to be carrying had been the scroll Sasuke had lifted off of him. But he’d made that comment about Sasuke’s family, and it had just really pissed him off.

You should really learn to control your anger. The chiding voice was a mixture of Kakashi and Orochimaru, echoing in his memory. It made him grind his teeth.

He walked down the path toward Hokage Tower, taking in the familiar surroundings. He passed by the Academy. There were a pair of children goofing around out in front, and Sasuke watched their laughing faces, feeling a strange sort of disconnect with his body.

After letting Naruto drag him back to Konoha five years ago, returning to the village after a long mission should be a relief. It should feel like coming home.

It still didn't.

It wasn’t that Sasuke didn’t realize his actions had been wrong. He knew how wrong he had been, how far into the darkness he had fallen. He still couldn’t look at his teammates without remembering what he had done to them; he lived every moment regretting the blood he had spilt and the people he had cast aside. But admitting to his own mistakes didn’t mean he had to absolve Konoha of theirs.

This village was responsible for the death of his clan. His brother had bloodied his hands for them, and had received nothing hatred and disgrace in return. Nothing would wipe that blood clean, and giving up his vengeance was not the same as gifting them with his forgiveness.

Sasuke could never forgive them. And he could certainly never forget. But violence only bred more violence, and it was impossible for a single man alone to change the world.

(“I tried to do everything by myself… and that’s why I failed.”)

He had tried to walk in his brother’s footsteps—not realizing that by doing so, he was only repeating his brother’s mistakes. Because Itachi had been perfect to him, had never been anything less; and the possibility that his brother's way had been wrong had been impossible for Sasuke to consider, not even when Itachi had tried to tell him himself.

(“Never forget your friends.”)

Itachi had learned from his mistakes. But Sasuke had refused to see them as mistakes—and had nearly destroyed everyone who loved him trying to repeat them.

Uchihas did not forgive. It wasn’t in their nature. Sasuke's anger burned bright and hot, even today. Time had not dulled it, and it had certainly not healed his wounds.

But Itachi had loved this village with every beat of his heart. So even if he never learned to do the same, Sasuke would protect it with every beat of his.

Sasuke entered Hokage Tower by the door this time, rather than simply annoying Kakashi by coming in through the window. When the ANBU stationed in front of the office saw him coming, they stepped aside immediately. He pushed the door open and entered without knocking.

Kakashi looked up from his desk, his face nearly hidden by a mountain of paperwork. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Sasuke,” he said. “You’re back.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one that called me back,” he reminded him. He unclipped the scroll from his belt, tossing it at his former sensei, who caught it easily.

“Yes, but I thought it would take you longer to get here. I only sent the message two days ago.” He pushed aside some of the paperwork on his desk, peering closer at the scroll in his hand. “What’s this?”

“Scroll the missing-nin had,” Sasuke responded. “I had to kill him, but he was carrying that on him. I think it might be about the dimension Kaguya came from.”

Kakashi frowned up at him disapprovingly. “You killed him? Sasuke, I told you to keep him alive.”

Sasuke scowled when he felt the beginnings of a lecture. Kakashi was holding in his hand what was possibly very valuable information. He was clearly focusing on the wrong thing here.

“He didn’t know anything,” Sasuke insisted. “I mentioned Kaguya’s name to him. He had no idea who she even was. He was just some fool trying to accomplish something far beyond his own power.”

Kakashi sighed, his head dropping. He looked like he wanted to be upset, but was too tired to be. His face settled on resignation. “Well, I’m glad that you’ve returned, at least.”

“Yeah, what did you call me back for anyway? Your message was annoyingly vague.”

Kakashi sighed. He set the scroll down on his desk, looking up at Sasuke warily. “You should probably sit down.”

Sasuke tensed, instantly on edge. He remained standing. “What happened?”

Kakashi hesitated another moment before he began speaking. “Naruto and Sakura went to check out the stone tablet beneath the Naka Shrine. When they were there… they found your brother, unconscious on the ground. Alive. They brought him to the hospital…”

Sasuke went utterly still. Kakashi’s words seemed to drift away, the rest of his sentence fading out like a staticky radio. It was like a large pane of glass had fallen between him and the rest of the world.

 “What?” he said. His own voice sounded distant to his ears. He felt strangely disconnected from the conversation. “How?”

“We don’t know,” Kakashi answered. “It’s not the Edo-Tensei, but I don’t know what it is. I didn’t even know if it was him at first—”

“Of course it's not him!” he exploded, ignoring the tiny whisper of but is it? in his mind. “You can't bring the dead back to life!”

The numb feeling in his bones had sparked, becoming something sharper, something familiar. He was suddenly very angry, and he wasn’t even sure why. Perhaps anger was better, easier. Anger meant he didn't have to think, a litany of ItachiItachiItachi drowning out everything else in his head.

“The reanimation jutsu—”

“You said it wasn’t the reanimation jutsu!”

It can’t be him, Sasuke thought desperately. It can’t be. He’s dead. He’s gone. I watched him leave.

Kakashi sighed, and Sasuke suddenly hated him for looking so tired. “I thought it might've been a trick at first as well,” he said. “But everything seems to point toward it really being him.”

Sasuke's hand was shaking. He placed it on the hilt of his sword to steady it, the cold metal pressing against his skin. He could taste his own heart in his throat, hear his own pulse in his ears.

“Take me to him,” he demanded.

Kakashi led him to the hospital and to the correct ward. On the way, he explained the situation in more detail, but Sasuke hardly listened. It was taking all his willpower to keep his panic locked down. There was no way this could be his brother. Who would want to bring Itachi Uchiha back to life? Nearly everyone who had known him was dead. It made much more sense for this to be some sort of trickery, some sort of infiltration attempt by an enemy. Who it was for, he couldn't be sure. Was it a threat to Konoha? Or was the target aimed directly at him?

Whoever it was, they would pay for using the memory of his brother against him.

They reached the door to the ward much too fast. Sasuke wasn't ready.

Kakashi frowned behind his mask. “I should probably warn him first—”

Sasuke pushed passed him and threw the door open.

It was a punch in the chest, the kind that stole the air from your lungs and left you gasping long after it was over. His breath stopped, caught in his throat, and the world fell out from under his feet.

The man staring back at him from the bed was a ghost, a memory long buried and locked tightly away. Dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, a lined face with dark eyes far older than his age, that stupid purple nail polish the Akatsuki had worn—

Rage flared in him, brighter even than when he'd faced Danzo on that bridge.

Sasuke’s hand tightened on his sword, power building up behind his eyes—

“Sasuke?” Itachi said, eyes wide.

And Sasuke had been ready, when he’d entered that room. He’d been ready to draw Kusanagi, to place the blade against the imposter's throat. He’d been ready to rip into his mind and tear out the truth.

But that voice made him stop.

The same voice that had soothed him to sleep. The same voice that had condemned his existence. The same voice that had told him he wasn’t worth killing, but had also promised to love him forever.

That voice made him hesitate, made him stop long enough to feel rather than simply react.

Sasuke wasn’t a sensory ninja. He couldn’t sense a person’s chakra from miles away, couldn’t identify the ebbs and flows that made each signature unique. But Itachi’s?

Sasuke knew Itachi’s chakra nearly as well as his own, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t recognize it when the man was sitting right in front of him.

Sasuke stepped forward slowly, the ground fragile beneath his feet. His trembling hand slipped from the hilt of his sword, and he stared at his brother like a blind man getting his first glimpse at the sun.

“Nii-san?” he whispered.

Chapter Text

“Sasuke?” Itachi said.

The word was hardly more than a breath, and he barely heard it as it left his lips. He stared at the doorway of the room, completely caught off guard.

Sasuke stepped forward. His face was changed, older, but the expression on it could only be described as childlike. It was the look of a seven-year-old boy, staring at him with wonder-filled eyes.

“Nii-san?” Sasuke whispered.

The voice was changed, too. It was deeper. But also fragile. Itachi felt a lifetime of memories span out before him at the single word—a lifetime that felt like forever ago, that should have been far longer than it was.

“Sorry,” Kakashi said, and it was only then that Itachi noticed he was there. “I told him to wait, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Like a magnet, Itachi’s gaze was drawn instantly back to his brother. Sasuke was staring at him as well, and the fervid intensity in his eyes was the same as when he’d chased after him in the forest.

“Is it really you?” he asked.

Just the same as then—only with less fury this time and more awe. Chasing him through the trees—Is that really you, Itachi!? For him, that had been two days ago. For Sasuke—

The reality of it hit him like a Chidori through the chest. Five years.

Itachi tried to remember how his voice worked. “Yes. It’s really me.”

They stared at each other for a few tense moments, neither of them sure what to say. Sasuke’s hair fell over one of his eyes, and his face was a lot less expressive than Itachi was used to. Itachi couldn’t read him.

“Okay,” Kakashi said, still standing slightly behind Sasuke. He looked between the two of them awkwardly. “I think I’m going to just… go somewhere that isn’t here…”

He gave Sasuke a lingering look of concern, and then he slipped away. He shut the hospital door as he did, closing the two brothers in together.

Itachi didn’t know how to start. Sasuke’s visible eye swept him over, from his head to his feet.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

Itachi shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows drew together, looking troubled. Itachi took the moment to look him over properly—taking notice of everything that was different, everything that was the same.

His hair was a few inches longer. It fell over his face, concealing one of his eyes. He wore a black cloak with a buttoned-up collar and matching fingerless gloves. A sword still hung at his side.

He reminded Itachi of their father.

Itachi wasn’t immediately sure why this was. In terms of physical appearance, Sasuke had always more resembled their mother. This hadn’t changed—his hair was still the exact shade as hers, his skin the same pale tone. Their noses were still identical.

It was his stature, Itachi realized. That was what had changed. Their mother had always been delicate, frail; but Sasuke’s shoulders were broad, and he no longer held the frame of a child. He stood with the same strong presence that their father had possessed.

He’s taller than me, Itachi realized. This probably shouldn’t have left him feeling as massively unbalanced as he did.

“You’ve grown,” he said.

Itachi’s voice broke the intensity of Sasuke’s stare. He shrugged, his shoulders slightly less tense. “Five years will do that to a person.”

“Five years,” Itachi repeated quietly. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “Right.”

Five years I wasn’t here. Five years that I missed.

It shouldn’t have been so hard to process. He’d had a couple days to wrap his head around it now. But the idea that half a decade had passed in the moment between closing his eyes and opening them again was a difficult thing to accept—especially when cooped up here, unable to see the changes time had wrought.

Kakashi had looked slightly older, but not enough for Itachi to accurately judge the passing of time. Sitting here in front of his brother—five years older than he’d been less than seventy-two hours ago—was the first time it felt real.

Sasuke stepped further into the room, and he lowered himself onto the bed next to Itachi. Slowly, he reached out a hand, setting it on Itachi’s shoulder. He looked faintly surprised when he made contact, as if he half-expected his hand to go through him.

“You’re really here,” he repeated.

Itachi’s heart ached at the wonder in his voice. His brother was so grown up, but he sounded oh-so-very young.

Itachi reached up to his shoulder, covering Sasuke’s hand with his own. He squeezed lightly. “I’m here,” he told him. “I don’t know how, but I’m here.”

Something seemed to break in Sasuke’s face—the final realization that this was real, that it wasn’t a dream. He leaned forward slightly, as if to hug him, but then he seemed to change his mind at the last second, sitting back. Itachi didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.

He didn’t know how he would react if Sasuke hugged him. Just sitting this close was overwhelming.

Both of them were silent. Itachi felt their history stretching between them, so much never said and never resolved, and he could feel it coiling around them in the air. He didn’t know how to ignore it, but he didn’t know how to address it either.

He never thought he’d get to see this—his brother grown and healthy, back in the village again. He never thought he’d be alive to see this.

“This must be difficult for you,” Sasuke said. “Just—waking up here like this.”

His gaze was sharper than before. It saw through him in a way Itachi was unaccustomed to. Itachi resisted the instinctive urge to retreat behind a mask. You don’t have to do that anymore, he reminded himself.

“It was—jarring,” he admitted haltingly. “Releasing the Edo-Tensei, and then—waking up here. It felt like a blink. There was no time between.”

Something flickered quickly through Sasuke’s eye—an old memory, a dull pain. Itachi recognized it instantly—it was the way he felt when he thought of Shisui, or Izumi, or their parents.

(“No matter what, I will love you always.”)

For him, it had been mere days since he had spoken those words—his only honest words in a lifetime of lies. For Sasuke, it had been years. He wondered if Sasuke still remembered it as clearly as him. Had the memory been dulled by time, or had it remained just as sharp?

(“I will love you always.”)

Sasuke swallowed, directing his gaze to his lap. And Itachi knew they were remembering the same thing.

Sasuke’s expression smoothed out, and Itachi could see the way he forced the ghosts from his eyes. “That must have been strange,” he said, and it took Itachi a moment to latch onto their previous track of conversation.

“It was,” he admitted. He recalled what felt like less than a week ago, stepping out of a stone coffin, his body under another’s control. “But then, it’s not the first time it’s happened.”

“Yeah, but the Edo-Tensei… that was only a few months after your death. This was five years.”

Itachi bit the inside of his mouth. His brother was right—there was a big difference between waking up a few months in the future, and waking up five years in the future. And he’d been sent straight to the battlefield when he’d been a reanimated shinobi—there hadn’t been any time (or reason) to marvel at the changes.

There was so much he didn’t know. Not just with what had happened since he’d seen Sasuke last, but since before that as well. What exactly had happened to Sasuke after his death? What had led him to those woods where they had reunited—and what had eventually led him back to the Leaf?

“You’re back in the village I see,” Itachi said.

A complicated look crossed over Sasuke’s face. “I am. Does that please you?”

There was something strange in his tone. Itachi hesitated before he answered, his words careful.

“I’m glad that you’re back in Konoha. But I meant what I said. Even if you’d chosen to destroy it… I wouldn’t have loved you any less.”

It made him uncomfortable to speak so candidly, so openly. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to, and he wasn’t used to showing his face without wearing a mask. He wasn’t even sure who he was without the mask—if he was still anyone.

Sasuke’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, to become less tense. He was gripping the top of his knee with one of his hands. Itachi’s gaze moved slightly to the right. His eyes widened.

“Your arm!”

Sasuke’s left sleeve was empty. Itachi hadn’t noticed it until now, because his body was covered by his cape. His eyes fell on the hand—the single hand—Sasuke had placed over his knee, then back up to his empty sleeve. He stared at it in horror.

Sasuke’s eyes followed his gaze. “Oh,” he said. “That.” His tone was unbelievably casual—as if he were remarking on a small scar instead of a missing limb.

“What happened?”

“Naruto,” Sasuke said. His right hand went to the stump of his arm, hidden by his sleeve. A flash of remembered pain passed over his face. “We had a fight. It was pretty bad. The both of us went all-out.”

Itachi frowned slightly at hearing this. “He said he wouldn’t try to kill you.”

“I didn’t exactly give him a choice,” Sasuke defended, something akin to shame passing through his eye. “And anyway, he didn’t really try to kill me. He mostly just got in my way.”

“Got in your way… and blew your arm off.”

Sasuke shrugged. “I blew his off, too.”

Itachi watched his brother, how closed-off he seemed to be on the subject. Itachi knew he should let it go, but his brother was missing an arm.

Itachi wondered if his brother could still fight with one arm. How did he weave handsigns for a jutsu? Single-handed signing was extremely difficult to master… but Sasuke had always excelled at everything he put his mind to. And he couldn’t imagine his brother ever laying down his sword.

“Isn’t there anything that can be done?” he asked.

“I don’t need anything done,” Sasuke said. At Itachi’s perplexed look, he elaborated, “Naruto took the replacement arm. I chose not to. I live just fine without it.”

Itachi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “But why? If you don’t have to?”

Sasuke paused. For a long moment, he was quiet, and his expression was indecipherable. That was something else that had changed: Itachi had never had a problem reading his brother’s face before.

“I didn’t get it replaced,” Sasuke said, “because for me it’s a reminder. Of the person that I was. And to never lose myself again.”

He didn’t look at Itachi when he said this, his words a vulnerability that he didn’t wish his face to display. Itachi looked at him, and for a moment, his image was overlaid by the image of a bright, smiling child.

Something warm burned in Itachi’s chest. Pride, he realized.

It was a bittersweet feeling, because he was pained for everything his brother had been forced to suffer. He wished Sasuke could go back to being that happy child, free and unburdened. He would have given anything to be able to lift the ghosts from his shoulders.

But he couldn’t, because the ghosts were a part of him now. And despite how he wished that they didn’t exist, Itachi was happy to see how his brother had learned to carry them. That he had learned to rise above them, and had become the person Itachi always knew he could be.

Sasuke really had changed from that angry, grief-stricken boy hell-bent on revenge. Itachi wondered when his brother had grown up. He was sad to have missed it.

I’m proud of you, he wanted to say. But he wasn’t sure he had a right to it.

Sasuke frowned slightly, looking him over. “What’s happening to you now? Did Kakashi say?”

Itachi blinked slightly at the change of subject. But his brother was clearly uncomfortable with any further pushing, so Itachi let him have it. “I’m not sure. We didn’t talk about it too much. I’ve only seen him twice since waking up, and both conversations were rather brief.”

Sasuke looked slightly disgruntled. He muttered something under his breath that Itachi was sure wasn’t too respectful toward his Hokage, before fixing his gaze back up.

“Well, you can’t just stay here,” he said. He hesitated a moment, before continuing, “I have an apartment. It’s usually pretty empty… if you’re interested?”

Itachi blinked again in surprise. “That isn’t necessary. I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

Sasuke cut him off. “This isn’t about obligation. You don’t have a place to stay, I’m offering you one. If you want to refuse, then fine, but don’t do it on my account.”

Itachi paused, considering. After a moment, Sasuke sighed, and some of the sharpness seemed to fade from his face.

“Please,” he said. “I want you to.”

Itachi felt his resolve waver. Despite his reservations, he let his words of refusal float away. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Sasuke said. “You can’t just stay locked up in this hospital room. And you should also probably shower. Have you even changed your clothes since you woke up?”

“I have, actually. I was wearing my Akatsuki cloak when I woke up.”

Sasuke blinked. “What? How? Didn’t I set that on fire?”

“Did you?” Itachi said. He couldn’t remember any specifics of their battle—most of it was a blur of pain. Half-blind, his lungs drowning in blood, fighting with his own body to keep going just a bit longer…

Sasuke’s face was troubled—troubled for the same reason Itachi was troubled, because he had no idea who had done this, or how, or why. After a moment, he seemed to shake it off.

“Come on. I’ve always hated this place. Let’s get you out of here.”

 ★

“I’m taking Itachi out of the hospital,” Sasuke announced, coming into the office through the window.

Kakashi’s surprise at his sudden appearance was comical to watch. The man swore, the pen in his hand jerking and sending a long line across the page he’d been writing on. A stack of paperwork crashed to the floor.

Sasuke leaned against the windowsill, his face blank as he fought to suppress a smirk.

Kakashi stared, forlorn, at the papers strewn across the floor of his office. Then, his gaze lifted and his head turned.

“I see we’ve graduated from not knocking to foregoing doors entirely,” he said dryly. “And just when I thought your manners couldn’t get any poorer.”

Sasuke considered pointing out how often Kakashi himself entered a room by the window instead of the door, but decided it wasn’t worth getting off topic. He moved to help the man pick up the fallen papers from the ground.

“So,” Kakashi said, standing up with the papers in his arms as Sasuke handed him the ones in his hand, “What do you mean you’re taking Itachi out of the hospital?”

“I’m taking him back to my apartment. Staying in that place too long is maddening.”

Kakashi hummed absently, stacking the paperwork back on his desk. “I’m to assume the two of you talked, then. Did it go well?” Sasuke shot him a look, and Kakashi’s eyes curved up in a way that meant he was smiling beneath the mask. “Wait, let me guess—none of my business, right?”

“I just thought I’d let you know,” Sasuke said. “Didn’t want you freaking out when Itachi wasn’t where you’d left him.”

“Thank you for the consideration,” Kakashi told him in a dry tone.

As the Sixth Hokage, informing Kakashi of his plans regarding Itachi was more of an obligation than a consideration. But Sasuke had never cared much for adhering to the chain of command—and neither had Kakashi, for as much as he liked to pretend otherwise.

He leaned against his desk, facing the former missing-nin. “So, it really is him, huh?”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you already determined it was him.”

“I did. But I wanted to know if you thought it was him.”

“It’s Itachi. I know what his chakra feels like.”

Kakashi nodded with a sigh. “Alright then. If you say it’s him, then it’s really him.” He met Sasuke’s gaze, his eyes suddenly concerned. “Are you sure about this? Letting him live with you?”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you surprised that I would?”

Kakashi’s face cycled through a variety of emotions before it settled on something unreadable. “Honestly? Yes. But I’m glad. I think it might be good for you. Both of you.”

Sasuke felt a squirming sensation in his chest at the warmth in the man’s voice. He scowled. “Whatever.”

“You should let Naruto and Sakura know you’re back.” Kakashi circled around his desk, returning to his chair. “It’s been months. Both of them have missed you.”

Sasuke had missed them, too—and Kakashi as well, though he’d sooner endure the Tsukuyomi than admit it to any of them. But they knew—the fact that he was here, that he kept returning, was proof enough of how much he cared.

“I’ll go see them later.”

“Just so long as you do,” Kakashi insisted.

Sasuke resisted rolling his eyes. “I will. Give me a few moments to deal with my not-dead brother, would you?”

Kakashi’s face softened. “Of course.”

The expression made him uncomfortable. He turned his back on him, his cape whipping behind him. “You should be more vigilant, by the way. What if I’d been someone trying to assassinate you?”

Kakashi shrugged. “Well, then you wouldn’t be the first assassin I’ve dealt with since becoming Hokage. You think because I no longer have the Sharingan, I can’t defend myself? I assure you, I’m still very capable of thwarting any attempts made on my life.”

“I know,” said Sasuke. He was very much aware of how deadly his former sensei was—even now, without the Uchiha Clan’s eye. “But you could at least secure the building better. It’s like you’re asking to be attacked.”

“I have guards,” Kakashi defended. “Poor ones, apparently, but I have them.”

“The guards were asleep,” Sasuke told him bluntly.

There was a moment of silence. Kakashi stared at him blankly, blinking.

“What.”

 ★

He went back to the hospital after getting Kakashi’s permission to leave with Itachi (though he would have done so anyway, even if his sensei hadn’t agreed).

“Come on,” he said, ignoring the way his heart stuttered when he saw his brother. “Let’s go.”

Itachi stood, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. “Lord Sixth agreed?”

Sasuke snorted slightly, trying not to get caught in his brother’s gaze, his brother’s presence. “You call him Lord Sixth?”

Itachi shot him a stern look. “He’s the Hokage. It’s the proper way to address him.”

Sasuke had the strangest desire to laugh at the way Itachi was speaking to him—as if he was a misbehaving seven-year-old. His own emotions were giving him whiplash, and just standing in Itachi’s presence was doing fucked-up things to his head. He forced his feeling of panic down.

“Whatever. Are you coming or not?”

The two of them left the hospital. Itachi seemed concerned about someone recognizing him. They received many looks from villagers as they walked, which Sasuke pointedly ignored. His jaw tensed when he heard his brother’s name amongst the whispers.

Kakashi was going to have some damage control to do.

Itachi soon forgot the whispers, his attention caught on the buildings and structures around him. Sasuke’s heart beat so loudly in his chest that he was sure everyone who passed him could hear it, and he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from his brother’s face.

“It’s different,” Itachi said.

It took Sasuke a moment to place what he meant. “They had to rebuild most of it,” he said. “From when the Akatsuki invaded. It was only a month or so after you died.”

If Sasuke’s voice caught slightly on the end of that sentence, Itachi didn’t seem to notice. “Right,” he replied, with a slight frown. “Nagato told me. I just didn’t realize the damage had been so… complete. Everything looks newer.”

Sasuke shrugged. “I guess. I wasn’t here when it happened.”

The two of them fell silent again. Sasuke snuck another look at his brother, marveling at how alive he looked under the sun. Nothing like the reanimation jutsu. Sasuke had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him again, like he had in the hospital room; to be sure he was real, and not some apparition that would dissipate with the slightest brush of his fingers.

Sasuke moved his feet slightly closer, so he could feel the reassuring heat of Itachi’s body. If Itachi noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Sasuke felt like he was balancing on a knife’s edge. He wanted to throw his arms around his brother, as if he were a child again, wanted to tuck his head against his shoulder and cry you’re here, you’re back, you’re home. But something stopped him, and Sasuke wasn’t sure what it was.

He’d imagined this so many times—the exact words he would say, if he ever got a chance to speak to him again. And now that Itachi was walking right next to him, all of his words dried up and died in his mouth.

I missed you, he thought. I loved you. I hated you. I mourned you. I missed you.

Looking at Itachi caused a barrage of memories to rush to the forefront of his mind. Some of them good—but most of them bad. Itachi’s presence—the feel of his chakra—made Sasuke think of blood in his mouth and smoke in the air. Itachi’s mad laughter and twisted grin. You, Sasuke! You will become my new light! Give me your eyes—!

Fingers reaching, his back against the wall. Bloody lips curving into a gentle smile. Forgive me, Sasuke. But this is it—

Itachi turned to look at him, his face creased in concern. “Are you okay?”

Sasuke struggled to breathe through the memories. “I’m fine,” he said.

They reached the apartment. Sasuke led his brother inside, feeling strangely nervous. It was a small place, and certainly not anything special. The sparseness of it had never bothered him before, but as his brother’s eyes scanned the bare walls, he found himself wishing he had taken the time to do more with it.

“It’s not much,” he said. “I’m usually away on missions, so I’m not here very often.”

Itachi was turned away from him as he examined the room. “Are you going to be leaving again soon, then?”

Sasuke hesitated before answering. Itachi had moved further into the room, picking up the one photograph that Sasuke had decorating the room. It was the picture of Team Seven, back from when their genin team had first been formed.

“I just got back,” Sasuke said, “so I probably won’t have another one so soon.”

Itachi nodded, still staring down at the picture. Sasuke wondered what he was thinking. It was strange to stand here with him, not knowing what to say. It was strange to be on equal height with him, and not have to angle his head up to meet his eyes.

It hit Sasuke, suddenly, that his brother was younger than him now. Itachi had been twenty-one when he died, less than three weeks away from his birthday. Sasuke had turned twenty-two four months ago.

Gods, that was too weird to think about.

Sasuke could feel himself spiraling, the longer he stood here. Staring at the surreal sight of his brother—standing in his apartment alive. The air was becoming thin. He couldn’t breathe right.

“I’m going to…” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, praying Itachi didn’t pick up on the strain in his voice. “I’ll be right back. Stay here?”

Itachi looked at him and nodded, a faint crease between his eyebrows. Sasuke ducked into the hallway the fastest he could without making his distress obvious.

As soon as the door to the bathroom was closed, Sasuke sank down onto the closed toilet with a heavy breath. His face fell into his hands, his thoughts swirling. Itachi’s presence was suffocating, and everything was so overwhelming that he couldn’t think properly.

How did this happen? Who did it?

He had no answers. He brushed his hair back from his eye, biting his lip. His gaze flickered up, falling on his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, eyes slightly wild. He fought to wipe the expression away, to appear calm.

Sasuke recalled the picture of Team Seven that Itachi had picked up—their young faces. It was the only photograph he had displayed. He had others—family photos from growing up, of his parents, and Itachi, and other members of his clan. But they were tucked away in boxes, because the people in them were no longer here, and the memories hurt too much to look at.

The picture of Team Seven—it was the only one he had that reminded him of something he still had, rather than something he’d lost. The only thing the world had allowed him to keep.

He wondered if the world would let him keep Itachi, as well. If it would grant him this one gift.

He doubted it.

He spent a few more minutes just breathing, calming himself down. But then he heard a knock on his apartment door. He lifted his head, standing back up and leaving the room.

Itachi had already answered it. Sakura was standing out in the hall, looking very startled to find Itachi the one opening the door.

“Sakura,” Sasuke said, walking over to stand by his brother. “What are you doing here?"

She pulled her gaze from Itachi to switch it to him. “I heard you were back. I came to see if you were okay.”

Sasuke shrugged. “I’m fine. I made it back in one piece.”

Both of them knew his mission wasn’t what she was referring to. The way her eyes kept flickering to the left of him made that obvious. After a moment, she stepped over the threshold and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sasuke instinctively stiffened—but the hug was gentle, not the least bit confining. She was making it clear to him that he was free to shake her off. She didn’t wait or expect him to return the embrace, and he caught a whiff of her strawberry shampoo as she pulled back.

“It’s been a while since you were home. I missed you. All of us have.”

Once again, he felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut at the word. Home.

“I’m glad to be back,” he said, and he didn’t know if he was lying or not. But he had missed them—had missed her.

Still, the softness in her eyes made him want to shy away. It was deeper than simple friendship—it was love. What she felt for him might have once been a childish infatuation, but over the years it had grown into something deep, something real. She truly did love him. He respected that love, even if he could not return it.

Perhaps he’d be able to, someday. But Sasuke didn’t know if he was even capable of that sort of love, and it wasn’t fair to ask her to wait for him.

“Itachi-san,” Sakura said, finally acknowledging his brother’s presence.

Itachi smiled politely, though it seemed slightly strained. “Haruno-san. It’s nice to see you again.”

Sasuke frowned. “Again?”

“We spoke earlier this morning in the hospital.”

“Hn.” Sasuke looked between the two of them. There was something there—a sharpness—but neither of them looked like they’d divulge if he asked. “Well, did you want something?”

Sakura huffed. “You mean besides wanting to see you for the first time in months?”

“Well, you’ve seen me. And as you can see, I’m fine.”

Sakura didn’t look convinced of this, but she didn’t push it—not when the reason he wasn’t okay was standing right there in the room with them. “Naruto wants us to go out for dinner. We’re even making Kakashi take a break for the night. You’re coming.”

Sasuke frowned, eyes darting toward his brother. “Sakura, I can’t—”

She arched a pink eyebrow. “Did I phrase that like a question? We haven’t hung out as a team in forever.”

Sasuke opened his mouth once again to refuse, but before he could, Itachi placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go, Sasuke. Hang out with your friends.”

“But you—”

“I’ll be fine for a couple hours. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Sasuke looked at him, indecisive feelings swirling in his chest. He couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted to leave—to step away from his brother for long enough to let himself breathe. But he was also irrationally afraid—terrified Itachi would disappear the moment he allowed him out of his sight.

It still hadn’t sunk in for him. This isn’t an illusion. It’s real.

Itachi’s eyes were knowing—as if he could somehow see straight into his thoughts, see all of these fears and worries swirling.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he said. “I promise.”

 ★

Sasuke had been dreading dinner with his teammates. He had figured the evening would be full of questions on how he was doing—all three of them assessing his mental state and wanting him to talk, to explain his feelings to them before he even knew them himself.

But there was none of that. They inquired how he was, of course, how he was handling the situation—but they also seemed to read his unwillingness to delve into it, and they left him be. Even Naruto, expert at pushing issues, somehow restrained himself.

They went out for ramen and they caught up with each other. They laughed, Itachi’s name wasn’t mentioned more than twice, and it was exactly the evening Sasuke needed after the day he’d had. The thousand-pound weight had lifted from his chest, allowing him to breathe properly again.

When he returned to his apartment, hours later, the sky had grown dark. He unlocked the door, entering quietly.

“Itachi?”

There was no response. Sasuke frowned as he closed the door, locking it behind him. He fought back on the sudden irrational fear—Itachi isn’t here, he never was, I imagined the whole thing—

The lights were still on. Itachi was sleeping on the couch, one of Sasuke’s books held in his hand. The relief that Sasuke felt upon seeing him threatened to send him to his knees, and he immediately berated himself. Of course he didn’t disappear. Stop freaking out so much. What’s wrong with you?

Sasuke moved to take the book from Itachi’s hand. He appeared to have fallen asleep waiting up for Sasuke. Sasuke immediately felt guilty for leaving him here by himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have left. Itachi had just come back from the dead—he was no doubt feeling extremely overwhelmed.

But Sasuke had needed to leave. Itachi’s presence had been suffocating him, had been making it impossible for him to sort out his tangling thoughts. He’d needed to put some distance between the two of them. He’d needed space to be able to think.

But here he was, hours later, and he was still no closer to figuring his head out. He wanted to be happy—he was happy. But he was also a thousand other mixed-up feelings, and all of them were colliding in his head, twisting together and making it impossible for him to tell them apart.

He loved his brother. A part of him had always loved his brother, even when he had hated him. But things with Itachi had never been simple, and all it had taken was one look at his face to stir up all of Sasuke’s old feelings.

Sasuke sighed. He reached over Itachi, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch. Slowly, as not to wake him, he took the blanket and covered his brother with it. Itachi didn’t stir. A strand of dark hair had fallen into his face, stirred slightly by his breath.

Sasuke couldn’t recall a time when he had seen his brother so unguarded.

Reaching out unsteadily, Sasuke brushed the hair gently from Itachi’s face. His hand paused against his forehead, as warmth from his skin soaked into his fingertips. He'd almost expected his brother to feel cold, like when he had been reanimated. But he was flesh and blood, and warm like living beings were meant to be.

It hit Sasuke, suddenly, that he’d never seen his brother sleeping before. Even on those late nights, when he had climbed into Itachi’s bed after a nightmare, it had always been Sasuke who fell asleep first.

Itachi was softer in sleep, somehow. All his sharp edges were still there, but they were dulled slightly; less likely to slice open skin at the simplest touch. He was young in a way he’d never been.

Younger than me, Sasuke recalled, and it made something stick in his throat.

Sasuke thought about how telling it was that Itachi was able to sleep in front of him—to grant him that type of absolute trust. He reflected upon the difference between the cold and cruel man he'd spent years detesting with all his being, and the kind brother who now lay slumbering on his couch. He could not reconcile the two.

How can I hate you? he wondered. How can I forgive you?

Sasuke had no answer for either—just the memory of a hundred promises broken and a hundred sacrifices made in his name.

Chapter Text

Kakashi stood outside the council chamber, noticeably stalling with himself. The guards were beginning to shoot him strange looks, probably because he’d been standing outside the doors for nearly five minutes.

Just get it over with, he told himself. You’re Hokage. You’ll have to deal with them eventually.

Kakashi reached up to fix his hat. He was wearing the red and white robes that signified his position, something he usually forwent unless he was attending something official. He’d been tempted to discard them for his jounin uniform, but he’d figured he’d best be safe. This was already going to be difficult.

Kakashi took a deep breath. Bracing himself, he pushed the doors open and entered the room.

Inside the room was a long rectangular table surrounded by chairs. Currently, only two of those chairs were filled. Kakashi stopped at the end of the table as the chairs’ occupants directed their gazes at him.

“Homura-sama,” Kakashi greeted cordially. “Koharu-sama.”

The two elders appraised him, their hands folded in front of them on the table. Despite their age, their eyes were as sharp as ever.

“Rokudaime-sama,” Koharu responded. “We’re grateful you could make the time to join us. We know that you have been busy.”

Kakashi thought longingly of the piles of paperwork on his desk—and how preferable they now seemed when faced with this meeting. “It was no trouble.”

He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. Sitting in this chair instead of any of the others was a calculated move on his part; a subtle reminder that, despite their considerable influence, the power laid ultimately with him.

“Let us get straight to the matter at hand,” said Koharu. She was usually the one to do most of the speaking during these meetings. “There have been rumors circulating the village since yesterday. More than a few people claimed to have seen Itachi Uchiha walking the streets.”

Kakashi did not react. He’d known why this meeting had been requested—and so early in the morning, too. He’d hoped to keep Itachi’s return quiet for a bit longer, but it was inevitable that it would become public eventually. He was prepared to do damage control.

The old woman’s gaze was thin and penetrating, like the razor’s edge of a kunai. Kakashi had always hated that gaze, hated how much it could see, but nearly five years as Hokage had taught him how to effectively hide from it.

“It’s true,” Kakashi confirmed. “Itachi Uchiha was found alive three days ago, near the old Uchiha compound. How it happened is as of now unknown, but it’s being looked into.”

The elders’ stern expressions dropped at the words, morphing into shock. “Three days ago?” Koharu demanded sharply. “Why were we not informed of this?”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, though she couldn’t see it. “I wasn’t aware I was required to inform you. Lady Tsunade did not run her every decision by you. Neither have I these past five years.”

Koharu’s mouth twisted crudely. She opened her mouth, obviously incensed, but Homura placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Hokage-sama.” His voice was reasonable, didn’t hold the same sharpness hers did. “You are, of course, under no obligation to seek approval for your decisions. However, we have been placed in a position to advise you. A situation like this can be very delicate. It would have been wise of you to make us aware.”

Kakashi looked at them—at the two people complicit in soaking a child’s hands in the blood of those he loved—and he had never disagreed more. He hated that he was telling them this, hated that his duties required him to be here.

He hated that they had to be here.

(He and Sasuke had had a rather large argument about it, after the war. He hadn’t understood why Kakashi would keep the elders in power, knowing what they’d done. He’d even threatened to go missing-nin again if Kakashi didn’t remove them. Kakashi had explained to him that it wasn’t that simple, but it was still the source of many disagreements between them.)

“I’m making you aware now,” Kakashi responded. “I agree that the situation is delicate. Which is exactly why I found it best not to inform you of it. I’m sure you understand.”

Koharu’s mouth thinned and Homura’s jaw clenched. For all their posturing, they clearly knew that getting involved would only complicate matters. No one could prove that they had been complicit in Danzo’s plans, but they knew the truth. And they knew that Kakashi knew.

“But the situation is being handled?” Koharu asked.

“It is.”

“Where is Itachi now, then?”

Kakashi squared his shoulders as he answered, meeting their gazes head-on. “He’s staying with Sasuke.”

As he expected, both of their expressions tightened at the wayward Uchiha’s name. Five years had not changed their opinion, no matter how firm Kakashi had stood on the subject. Had it been their choice, they would have gladly seen Sasuke placed behind bars for the rest of his life. Or worse, executed.

However, they knew better than to voice their complaints. They knew Kakashi would never hear them.

The two elders exchanged glances.

“We would like to speak with Itachi, if possible.”

For a moment, Kakashi was struck silent by the audacity of the request. By the fact that they would dare.

“Absolutely not,” he said immediately.

“Hatake-san, be reasonable,” said Koharu. The change in honorifics did not go unnoticed. “We’re not asking for much, only a few moments with him. That child—”

“That child, whom you refer to so affectionately, is no longer a child. He’s been used as a tool in your machinations for too long. I’m not letting you go anywhere near him.”

And Sasuke would kill you if you even tried, he thought.

“You’re right,” Koharu responded. “He’s not a child. He’s fully capable of making that decision for himself.”

Kakashi grit his teeth, because he knew the words were true. He also knew that if Itachi was asked to meet with them, it wasn’t likely that he would refuse.

“Ask him,” Koharu said. “See what he says.”

 ★

Itachi’s sleep last night had been troubled, filled with strange dreams that became formless once he woke.

He sat in the kitchen in Sasuke’s apartment, drumming his fingers against the table. There was a cup of green tea in front of him, and he stared into it, trying to remember. It felt important for some reason.

Unfortunately, the longer he was awake, the quicker the dream faded from his mind. He tried to cling to the half-remembered images, but they slipped away from him like water. All that was left behind was this nagging feeling, like he’d forgotten something important but couldn’t figure out what it was.

His hand stopped drumming, his fingers curling into his palm. He raised his tea to his lips, trying to force the feeling away. It clung to him stubbornly.

You’re being ridiculous, he told himself. What does it matter?

His dreams were never anything pleasant anyway. It was probably for the best that he couldn’t remember.

Itachi glanced in the direction of Sasuke’s bedroom. If he focused, he could feel the brush of his brother’s chakra behind the closed door. It was comforting, familiar, in a strange world where everything else was so changed.

Without anything else to do, he had waited up on the couch last night for Sasuke to return from dinner with his teammates. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he had woken up that morning with a mind plagued by strange dreams, covered by a blanket he was positive he hadn’t been responsible for moving.

Sasuke must have gotten home rather late into the night. Itachi hadn’t heard him come in.

He suspected that Sasuke had been desperate to put some distance between them for a few hours. Itachi didn’t blame him. He had inflicted horrible things on his brother, and some scars were too deeply carved into a person’s bones to ever be healed. Sasuke offering him a place to stay was already much more than he deserved.

Take care of Sasuke, his father had asked him, kneeling on that wooden floor next to his mother.

Itachi bowed his head, his bangs falling into his face. A burst of self-loathing went through him. I did a superb job of that.

His brother, broken and alone in a village that would have seen him dead. Leaving his home behind to find refuge with a snake, casting aside his happiness in favor of his hate. An international criminal lost in the darkness, raging at the world because it was all he remembered how to do.

All Itachi had taught him to do.

Itachi would not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole of his brother’s actions—Sasuke was his own person and had made his own decisions, however heavily influenced those decisions might have been—but the actions Itachi had taken had pushed Sasuke down the road he chose, and it was the hatred that Itachi had fostered in him that had led him into darkness. It was Itachi who had guided him.

He had wanted to protect his brother. Instead he had broken him.

Itachi looked around at the room he sat in. Even now he could see the damage his machinations had caused. Sasuke’s apartment was barren, only a single beaten-up picture frame to identify the place as his. The walls were blank, the furniture sparse; the fridge and cupboards were nearly empty. This wasn’t a home; it was a rest stop.

This was the apartment of a man who was too scared to stay in one place. Of a boy who’d been running so long that he no longer knew how to stop—or if he even wanted to.

This was who his brother had become. And Itachi was so incredibly proud of him—but also so incredibly sad.

This shouldn’t have been your life, Itachi thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

What had he expected? That Sasuke would kill him and simply move on? Return to the village and live the rest of his life happy and trauma-free? Had he really been so utterly naïve?

Itachi took another sip of his cooling tea, struggling to redirect his thoughts toward something more productive. He still had no idea who had brought him back or for what reason, and sitting here ruminating on his mistakes wasn’t going to do anything for him.

Itachi’s head was a dark place, and staying lost inside it for too long was always dangerous. If he thought too long about the blood on his hands, the pain in his heart, then there was always the risk that he’d fall too far into it, and then he didn’t think he’d ever—

Itachi paused with his mug in front of him. He knew the moment his brother woke up. He wasn’t a sensor-nin, so he couldn’t quite explain how. There was just the slightest shift in Sasuke’s chakra that told it to him.

Itachi turned toward the hallway as Sasuke stumbled into the kitchen. He looked startled when he saw Itachi sitting there at the table, like he’d forgotten, but he quickly recovered himself.

“Hey,” he said. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, though the cloak had been discarded. Without it, his missing arm was much more obvious.

“Morning,” Itachi greeted. He tried not to stare at the missing limb, gesturing toward the drink in front of him. “There’s tea, if you want some.”

Sasuke made a face and moved to make coffee instead.

“How was your date?” Itachi asked.

“It wasn’t a date. Sakura’s not my girlfriend.”

Itachi’s mouth quirked. “Who said I was talking about Sakura?”

Even with his back to him, Itachi could tell Sasuke was rolling his eyes. “You caught me,” he said, his voice laden with sarcasm. “Naruto and I are having a clandestine affair. Do me a favor and don’t tell his wife.”

Itachi smiled slightly at the dry tone, but then his eyebrows drew together slightly. “Wife? Naruto’s married?”

Sasuke hummed slightly in reply, as he walked over to the table and drew back a chair. “To Hinata Hyuuga. It happened two years ago.”

The name was slightly familiar. “Hinata,” he repeated. “Isn’t she the heiress?”

“That’s her.”

It was another reminder of how much things had changed—how much time had passed. Just a few days ago, Naruto Uzumaki had been a teenager standing across from him in a field. Now, he was a man with a wife, most likely on his way to becoming Hokage.

It seemed Sasuke didn’t have anyone like that—a person he could share his life with. Sakura was clearly deeply in love with him, and he clearly cared for her deeply. But his words about her not being his girlfriend rang true; even if there were unspoken feelings between them, they didn’t seem to be together.

“Sorry I came back so late last night,” Sasuke said. “I know you waited up for me. I didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

Itachi recalled the blanket he’d woken up covered with. He shook his head, feeling a bloom of warmth in his chest. “It’s fine. I told you that you don’t need to babysit me, remember?”

“Still. I’m sorry. I’ve been gone on a mission, and this was my first time seeing them in a while.” He tilted his head slightly, causing his hair to shift. There was a slight flash of purple before Sasuke combed his bangs back over his left eye. “Did you eat something?”

Itachi wondered briefly what that had been—why his brother was so insistent on keeping his eye covered up. He shrugged at the question.

“You should eat something,” Sasuke said with a frown.

Itachi’s lips lifted slightly in amusement. “Yes, Mother,” he said teasingly, then froze.

Mother, kneeling on the wooden floor. Mother’s eyes, staring blankly up at him—

In the chair across from him, Sasuke had frozen as well. Itachi had spoken the words unthinkingly—falling back into the easy banter they had shared as children.

But Sasuke wasn’t a child anymore, and they couldn’t speak freely like they used to. There was so much blood and pain between them now, and every word Itachi spoke required him to navigate a minefield.

The pause in conversation only lasted a moment before Itachi quickly picked it back up. “It’s not like there’s much for me to eat, Sasuke,” he said, ignoring the brief stumble as if it hadn’t happened. “You are aware that your kitchen is practically empty?”

Sasuke twitched. “There’s bread,” he said flatly. “Have toast.”

“The bread is molding. Also, you don’t have a toaster.”

Sasuke blinked, his gaze darting quickly over his kitchen. “Oh,” he said, apparently only realizing this now. “Sorry.”

Itachi didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned. “You really aren’t here often, are you?”

Sasuke shrugged. “I told you, missions keep me busy. I haven’t been home in months. I’ll go shopping later.”

Itachi thought about prying deeper into the subject—but Sasuke already looked uncomfortable, and they were on shaky enough ground as it was. And Itachi didn’t need his brother to come out and explain to him his reasons for being away from Konoha so often—he could hazard a guess himself.

Sasuke had friends here. People who cared about him and people he cared about in return. But he still didn’t seem to consider Konoha his home.

Itachi thought about the bare cupboards and the empty refrigerator. He wondered if Sasuke had always lived like this. He must have learned to care for himself, since he had to live alone after the massacre. But what had it been like? Had he had people to support him, or had he had to do it all himself? A traumatized seven-year-old, completely alone for the first time in his life…

There was so much about his brother’s life that Itachi didn’t know. Too much.

Behind them, the coffee machine stopped making noise, signaling that it was done brewing. Sasuke stood up from his chair to pour himself some.

“You said you and Kakashi only talked briefly. I assume that means he didn’t tell you much about what happened since you died.” Sasuke returned to the table, his mug in front of him. “I imagine you must have a lot of questions.”

He did have a lot of questions—though most of them were centered around Sasuke, and probably weren’t the ones his brother meant.

“The Fourth Shinobi World War,” Itachi said. “The Five Nations came together and won. How did that happen?”

Sasuke sighed, ducking his head slightly. “The war… that’s a really long, really complicated story. There was so much more to it than you ever knew about.”

“I’ve got time.”

Sasuke looked at him for a moment. He nodded and opened his mouth to begin, when there was a sudden knock on the apartment door. Sasuke turned in his seat, his mouth pulling down.

“Expecting a visitor?” Itachi asked.

“No.”

He stood from his seat, striding quickly over to the door and pulling it open. From his place at the table, Itachi could barely make out the figure of Kakashi, who was donning his official robes this time, complete with the veiled hat.

“You look ridiculous,” Sasuke told him bluntly, in lieu of a greeting. “Why the hell are you wearing that?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Kakashi said brightly. “And why wouldn’t I wear this? These are my Hokage robes.”

“Yeah, but you never wear them.”

“I wear them sometimes.” The man shouldered past Sasuke, entering the room without an invitation, causing Sasuke to scowl. “Itachi, has your brother always been so rude?”

Itachi smiled, inclining his head. “Good morning, Kakashi-san.”

“Good morning,” the Rokudaime replied. He turned his head back to look at his student. “See, Sasuke. That’s how you greet someone. Your brother has manners.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, drawing closer to them. “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something?” Kakashi asked.

“That’s the only time you visit my apartment.”

“That is a slanderous lie, and I’m extremely offended.”

Sasuke’s eye twitched. Kakashi’s jovial attitude was clearly wearing on the last of his patience, which Kakashi quickly picked up on. His face fell into a more serious expression, and he pulled back one of the table’s chairs. He sat down next to Itachi, looking up at his student.

“I had a meeting with the elders this morning,” he announced, with the air of someone delivering an execution order. “They wanted to know about Itachi.”

Itachi felt something tighten in his chest. Sasuke’s expression darkened immediately, not unlike the look he’d worn when he’d declared his intention to destroy the Leaf.

“Itachi isn’t any business of theirs.”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Kakashi agreed. “And I told them so. They won’t get any information about him from me, unless we find out whoever brought him back is a threat. They did request to see him, though.” He turned to Itachi and said, “I’m leaving that decision up to you.”

Itachi frowned. He had never been very fond of Konoha’s two elders. But he understood why they were necessary to keep the village running, and unlike with Danzo, he didn’t harbor any truly malicious feelings toward them.

Sasuke didn’t share this sentiment, if the look on his face was any indication.

“Absolutely not,” he said, an angry twist to his lips. “Tell them they can shove their request right up their fucking—”

“Sasuke,” Itachi said with a frown.

The fire that sparked so easily in his brother’s eyes still managed to catch Itachi off-guard. As a child, Sasuke had been so happy, so full of joy. In many ways, that seven-year-old child was the only version of Sasuke that Itachi truly knew.

Sasuke’s jaw clenched. Itachi watched as he visibly calmed himself, exhaling slowly before looking down at him. When he spoke again, the anger was still just beneath the surface of his voice, but it was restrained.

“They don’t have any right to speak to you,” he said. “After what they ordered you to do… you’re not obligated to so much as look at them. You know that, right?”

Itachi thought about the request. Kakashi leaned closer to him, his elbow against the table. “He’s right. You’re not obligated. I can easily tell them to fuck off. In fact, it would be my genuine pleasure.”

Itachi shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to do that. I can meet with them.”

His brother frowned. “No. Itachi—"

“It’s my decision, Sasuke. Please respect it.”

Itachi was aware, even as he said this, how hypocritical it was of him. Asking for agency in his own choices, when he had never allowed his brother the same. Sasuke would be completely justified in slapping the words right out of the air.

And Sasuke was displeased by the words. His mouth twisted, much like it used to when Itachi would renege on his promises to train him as a child. But whatever angered words he wanted to snap, he held them behind his teeth.

“Fine,” he said. “But I don’t like it.”

“Noted.”

Sasuke glared at him slightly. Kakashi attempted to take a drink from Sasuke’s coffee, and Sasuke swiped the mug from his hands, transferring his glare. He resumed his previous seat at the table.

“Is that all you came here for? That and to harass me?”

“Actually,” Kakashi said. “I also have another request. This one for you. Though it is fun to harass you, so that’s an added bonus.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes, raising the coffee to his lips. “I knew you wanted something from me. What is it this time?”

“The elders have put the pressure on me to find out who’s responsible for your brother’s resurrection,” he explains, his gaze cutting to Itachi. “As much as I don’t like them trying to involve themselves, they do have a point. We don’t know anything about how Itachi is back. Whoever did it could be a serious danger.”

Sasuke frowned. “I know. What do you want me to do about it?”

“I was hoping you could pay a visit to Orochimaru. See if he knows anything.”

“Orochimaru?” Sasuke said. “You think he has something to do with this?”

“No, I doubt it. However, he’s the only one who has ever accomplished anything close to reviving the dead. He’s not likely to know anything about Itachi’s situation in particular, but he might at least be able to shed some light on how it was done.”

Itachi frowned. He remembered snakes bursting from his brother’s shoulder, Orochimaru emerging from inside them. He remembered sealing the man away with the Sword of Totsuka—a legendary spiritual weapon that trapped the soul of its victims in a genjutsu-like world for all eternity.

He had sealed Orochimaru away during his and Sasuke’s fight, freeing his brother of his wretched influence. So how…?

Sasuke didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’m the only one he might actually talk to.”

“Thank you. I know you don’t like going to see him. I appreciate it.”

Sasuke’s lips twisted slightly, but he shrugged, sitting back in his chair and raising his mug to his lips. Itachi interrupted their conversation, asking, “Orochimaru is alive?”

The Rokudaime turned to his former student. “You didn’t tell him?”

Sasuke rolled his eyes again. “I’ve been busy. I haven’t had time to give him a complete history lesson on the last five years.”

“I thought I got rid of him when I sealed him away the Totsuka Blade,” Itachi said. “He’s alive again? How?”

“Because he’s a cockroach,” Sasuke said. Kakashi raised an eyebrow at him, and he sighed. “Also because I brought him back to life, but mostly because he’s a cockroach.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Long story. I needed him for something.”

“Actually, it’s a good thing he did,” Kakashi said. “Orochimaru played a significant part in helping us win the war.”

Itachi blinked. “Huh.”

He was definitely surprised by the news that the man had assisted in the war—due to the fact that he had once been a member of the Akatsuki and had certainly agreed with the organization’s goals. More surprising was that he no longer seemed to be considered an enemy.

“He’s allowed to roam freely?” Itachi asked. “After all of his crimes?”

Sasuke snorted slightly. “He wishes.”

“He has a hideout just outside of the village,” Kakashi explained. “It’s kept under guard at all times. The research he conducts there is authorized, and so long as he continues being useful to Konoha, he avoids a cell.”

“Avoids execution, more like,” Sasuke corrected, his voice laced with something poisonous. “We both know the elders have no issue with ordering the people they consider criminals to be killed.”

Kakashi shot him a sharp look. “Don’t. We’ve talked about this.”

Sasuke bit his tongue on what seemed to be the start of a familiar argument. “I’ll go speak with him later today.” He turned to Itachi. “Are you sure about going to speak to the elders? You really don’t have to. And it’s only been a couple days.”

Itachi smiled slightly. This protectiveness his brother had over him was odd, felt out of place, though he wouldn’t deny that it warmed him. “I’ll be fine. It’s just the two elders. Danzo won’t be there, right?”

Both Sasuke and Kakashi froze, a strange expression passing over both of their faces, followed by one of dawning realization. Kakashi turned to look at his student incredulously.

“He doesn’t know about that, either?”

Sasuke tightened his jaw slightly, looking uncomfortable. Itachi frowned, confused by the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. “What don’t I know about?”

Kakashi winced. “Yikes. Well, that’s gonna be a conversation.”

Sasuke glared at him. “I don’t care if you’re Hokage. I’m two seconds away from throwing you out on your ass.”

Kakashi raised his palms in a gesture of surrender, standing from the kitchen chair. “Don’t bother,” he said, the veil of the Hokage’s hat still framing his face. “I’m already gone. No throwing necessary.”

With a swish of his red-and-white robes, the man turned and swept out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. Itachi was left with his cooling cup of tea, and his brother, who was wearing an expression Itachi couldn’t read.

Itachi waited to see if he would speak. But he didn’t, so Itachi finally spoke up. “Sasuke? What is it? What don’t I know?”

Sasuke stared down at his coffee for a moment, his visible eye dark.

“I killed Danzo,” he said finally. “For what he did to the Uchiha Clan. For what he did to you. It was a few weeks after I killed—after you died.”

Sasuke’s voice cracked on the words I killed you, changing them partway through. Itachi felt his own heart twist slightly.

Blood in his mouth and smoke in his lungs. Sasuke’s terrified face in front of him a blurry smudge. Forgive me, Sasuke—

Itachi vaguely recalled Sasuke mentioning he’d battled Danzo. A few days ago—no, not days, five years—during their fight against Kabuto. He’d mentioned the man using Izanagi. Itachi had been too focused on the current battle to give the passing comment too much thought—Sasuke had been alive, so that was all that had mattered.

Itachi didn’t know how he felt about the news that he was dead. Certainly not sad—despite allowing the man to live, Itachi had always hated Danzo. He was, perhaps, the only person Itachi had ever hated more deeply than he did himself. If Danzo hadn’t stolen Shisui’s eye, if he hadn’t backed them into a corner, then maybe…

“I’m not apologizing,” Sasuke said. “I regret the way I went about doing it, but I don’t regret killing him.”

Itachi thought about asking what he meant by that, but now wasn’t the time.

He thought of Shisui tripping and falling to his knees in front of him, pressing a hand to his bleeding eye socket and choking out a single name. He thought of Danzo’s words, wrapping around his heart like wire-string: …including your innocent little brother, who knows nothing.

“Good,” he told him. “You shouldn’t.”

Sasuke blinked, looking at him in slight surprise. Itachi sighed at the expression, dropping his chin slightly.

“I followed his orders because at that point it was the only option. But he’s the reason Shisui died. He’s the reason I was forced to do what I did. Do you honestly think I didn’t want to kill him?”

His brother stared at him for a long moment. He averted his eyes, and his mouth curled down into a grimace. “I did other things, though,” he admitted. “Things there’s no excuse for. I hurt the people who cared about me. I killed people just for standing in my way.”

Itachi’s chest tightened slightly at the words. They were so utterly familiar, because they could have just as easily come from his own mouth. And he hated it, because he didn’t want his brother to be anything like him.

But you made him that way, his mind whispered harshly. All of your pain, mirrored right back at you, and you’re the one who caused it.

Itachi shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me here. Do you want me to condemn you? Is that what this is?”

That was what it seemed like, though Itachi couldn’t understand it. Sasuke lowered his gaze, his hand balling into a fist. Itachi wished desperately that he could read him. But he couldn’t, not anymore. The young man in front of him was a mystery.

Itachi pushed his tea aside, leaning on the table, closer to his brother.

“Whatever happened, it’s in the past now. I told you I would always love you, no matter what you did.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Sasuke said. “How can you say that?”

Itachi thought of his years in the Akatsuki. He thought of all of the innocent people he had killed while pretending—but was it really pretending?—to be a merciless criminal.

“You don’t know everything I’ve done, either,” he said. “You don’t know all of my sins. You only know the worst of them.”

“Exactly,” Sasuke replied. “I know the worst of yours. You don’t know the worst of mine.”

Itachi looked at him sadly. His eyes dropped to his brother’s empty left sleeve—proof that he was still punishing himself for his mistakes, even now. Itachi had no right to judge him for anything—and even if he had been inclined to, Sasuke was already doing enough of it himself.

You’re not even worth killing, he had told his brother once. And he wished more than anything that he could undo the damage those words caused, that he could make him understand.

He reached across the table slowly, brushing a few strands of hair from his brother’s forehead. Sasuke flinched at the light touch, looking startled by the gesture. There was something vulnerable about the expression, almost painfully young, and Itachi’s heart twisted.

“I loved the very best of you,” he told him softly. “I’ll love the very worst, as well. I will always love all of you, until the oceans themselves are dust.”

Chapter Text

I will always love all of you, until the oceans themselves are dust.

Sasuke clenched his jaw at the memory of his brother’s words, as they caused an unbearable tightness in his chest even hours later. He attempted to shake them off as he walked down the street, but they clung to each step he took like a particularly stubborn piece of fungus.

I will always love all of you.

Why did he have to say things like that? Why did he have to make it so difficult to be angry at him?

Sasuke’s feelings continued to swirl, painful and confusing and complicated, as his feet carried him farther and farther from his apartment. His sword was clipped to his belt, his cloak buttoned at his throat. His bangs carefully hid his Rinnegan from sight, disturbed once in a while by a slight breeze.

Sasuke passed the Academy as he turned onto the main road out of the village. The schoolyard was empty, all the children at home for the weekend. Sasuke remembered, abruptly, being seven years old, and the joy he had felt on the rare occasions Itachi had come to pick him up.

The memory was blurry, as most memories from that long ago were.

Despite spending the morning with him, it still seemed utterly surreal to him. His dead brother, sitting at the kitchen table in his tiny apartment. Being there, right next to him, in a way he hadn’t been for nearly fifteen years.

I will always love all of you, until the oceans themselves are dust.

Sasuke felt his throat tighten. He thought it might’ve been easier if Itachi had been disappointed in him. Instead, he had offered him forgiveness for sins he didn’t even know the breadth of, while Sasuke’s own anger still clung with sharp claws to his soul.

I love you, Itachi had told him. And Sasuke loved him too, more than anything, but the words still refused to leave his lips.

It was easy to forgive someone for all the hurts they caused you when you didn’t have to look them in the face every day. When you didn’t have to endure their presence, a living, breathing reminder of all your years of suffering. So easy to remember only what they had done for you, never what they had done to you, because they had bled for you, killed for you, died for you—and what gave you any right to be angry after all that?

Itachi’s death, Itachi’s truth, had stolen Sasuke’s ability to be angry at him—but he was back now, and suddenly there were all these ill feelings swimming around in Sasuke’s gut that he didn’t know what to do with. That he felt guilty for having.

Forgiving the dead was easy. Forgiving the living was harder.

“Hey!” a familiar voice yelled. “Sasuke!”

Sasuke turned, repositioning his bangs as the wind blew them from his face. A flash of bright orange momentarily obstructed his vision, as Naruto ran up to him.

“There you are! I was just going to go see you!”

“Were you?” Sasuke asked. The way the sun reflected off Naruto’s teeth as he grinned threatened to blind Sasuke’s eyes. “What for?”

“I thought we could hang out later—”

“We just did yesterday,” Sasuke pointed out. “Quit stalking me. You have a wife now.”

Naruto scowled at him. “Bastard. You’re not even my type. I meant, I thought we could spar or something. It’s been ages since we’ve had a match.”

“As fun as it would be to kick your ass literally one-handed—” Naruto made an offended squawking noise, “—I’ll have to pass. I’m heading out for the day.”

Confusion flashed over Naruto’s face. It was replaced quickly by dawning realization, when he realized they were standing on the path that led out of Konoha.

“Oh no!” he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Don’t tell me you’re heading out on a mission already! You just got back from the last one! And now with Itachi—”

“I’m not,” Sasuke said, rolling his eyes. “Relax. Did you miss the part where I said for the day? I’m just paying Orochimaru a visit. It should only take me a few hours.”

Naruto relaxed, but then made a face. “Ugh. Why? Is it about your brother?”

“Kakashi thinks he might know something.”

The jinchuuriki huffed. “And it has to be you to go see him? Just have Yamato-sensei ask him, he’s already over there! Kakashi-sensei’s such a tyrant. The power is getting to his head.”

“If Orochimaru does know something, he’s likely to only talk to me. And if he did have something to do with Itachi being back, then I want to hear it from him myself.” Sasuke fixed his bangs again as the wind blew them, adding, “And I have to go out shopping, anyway. I don’t have any food.”

Naruto gave him a disappointed look. “Again? Seriously, Sasuke, take better care of yourself.”

“You’re one to talk. All you eat is ramen.”

“I wish,” the blonde said, sighing longingly. “That would be great. But Hinata’s making me eat, like, actual food now.”

“Good for her.”

“No! Not good! It’s a nightmare, Sasuke! A nightmare!”

Sasuke smiled slightly at his friend’s dramatics. “We’ll have a fight soon. I have a new jutsu I’ve been meaning to try out.” His cloak spanned out behind him as he turned around. “Tell Kakashi if he lets those damn elders do anything to my brother, I’ll throw that stupid book of his into the ocean.”

 ★

There was a twisty feeling in Itachi’s chest as he walked down the village streets. Nearly every eye was drawn to him as he passed.

“Ignore them,” Kakashi said from next to him. “You’re walking with the Hokage. Most of them are looking at me, not you.”

Itachi appreciated the words, but he knew they were false. He doubted the villagers would be looking at their Hokage with these gazes—a mixture of awe, confusion, curiosity, and wariness. He could feel their gazes on his back. He was wearing one of his brother’s shirts, and the fan embroidered on it clearly identified him as an Uchiha. An Uchiha who wasn’t Sasuke.

“Do they know?” Itachi said quietly. “About me?”

“I haven’t made an official announcement yet. But people have seen you around. Word has spread.”

Itachi kept the unease he was feeling from his face. The scrutiny made his skin itch, his body coiling with hidden tension. His time in the Akatsuki had made him paranoid; he found himself analyzing every glance, every movement.

“Relax,” the jounin told him. “Some people may be wary or mistrustful of you—that’s only natural. But you’re not a traitor, and they know that. You’re allowed to walk out here like this.”

Logically, Itachi knew this. But knowing didn’t erase nearly a decade of learned habits, and he couldn’t help feeling completely exposed.

It didn’t help that this Konoha was so different from the one he remembered growing up in. Pain’s invasion really had done incredible damage. So many things had been remodeled and rebuilt, there were parts of the village he didn’t even recognize anymore.

He felt completely misplaced in his own home. And once again, he had to wonder, what am I doing here? Why am I back, when the world has so clearly moved on without me?

Sasuke had left less than an hour ago, and had most likely passed the village borders by now. Itachi couldn’t help feeling irrationally nervous at the thought of him visiting Orochimaru.

Sasuke is stronger than him… but he’s missing an arm now…

“You’re worried for your brother,” Kakashi surmised, watching him as they walked. “You shouldn’t be.”

Apparently, he hadn’t been hiding his feelings as well as he thought. Itachi glanced at the Rokudaime as he answered. “I know you said Orochimaru isn’t a threat now. But knowing what he’s like, that’s hard to believe.”

“I’m well-aware of how dangerous he is. To forget that would be the height of stupidity. But Sasuke will be fine. Trust me, he can handle himself.”

Itachi thought back to Sasuke’s missing arm, and couldn’t help feeling slight doubt. But then, his little brother had a habit of constantly surprising him—perhaps he was underestimating him again.

The two of them were walking toward Konoha’s main offices near the center of the village, so Itachi could meet with the two elders. Kakashi had suggested that they wait for another day, but Itachi had insisted. He wasn’t looking forward to this, and he wanted to just get it over with.

This meeting might also have something to do with his current level of tension.

“We don’t have to be there for another twenty minutes or so,” Kakashi said. “How about we stop to eat something?”

Itachi opened his mouth to decline, but the man was already gravitating toward one of the many food stands on the street. Reluctantly, Itachi followed, settling himself on the stool next to him.

“This isn’t necessary, Kakashi-san,” he said. “I’m really not hungry.”

“Nonsense. I doubt you’ve had anything to eat all day. If I know Sasuke, he doesn’t have any food at all in his apartment. Am I right?”

Itachi really wasn’t in the mood to eat anything. But Kakashi was right that he hadn’t had anything since yesterday, and maybe food would help settle some of the nerves twisting in his stomach. Politely, he ordered something from the worker at the stand.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Kakashi told him. “You really don’t need to meet with them.”

Itachi forced down the tight, twisty feeling in his gut. “I know I don’t. You’re not pressuring me into anything. This is my choice.”

Kakashi sighed. “Well, if you’re really set on it.”

They descended into silence for a few moments. Itachi took a few bites of the yakitori he bought, pleased when it actually did seem to settle some of his queasiness. Kakashi didn’t have anything, and Itachi wondered if it was because he wasn’t hungry or if he just didn’t want anyone to see him with his mask down.

(Itachi remembered the food pills they had choked down on ANBU missions. The man had always managed to yank his mask back up before Itachi caught so much as a glimpse.)

“Kakashi-san,” Itachi said, twirling the skewer absently as he stared down at the counter. “Can I ask you about something?”

“You can ask,” the Hokage replied. “Depending on what it is, I might answer.”

“Sasuke.”

Kakashi paused, an unreadable look passing over his face. “I should have known it’d be about him.” He turned on his stool, facing Itachi properly. “What is it you want to know?”

“Everything,” Itachi said honestly. Kakashi raised an eyebrow, and he amended, “I mean, everything you’re willing to tell me.”

Kakashi looked at him for a moment with sharp eyes, scrutinizing him. “I’m not giving you his life story, if that’s what you’re looking for. Certain things… that’s for him to share, not me.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Then ask what you want to ask, and maybe I’ll answer you.”

Itachi thought about the words instead of immediately leaping on the open invitation. What did he want to know? He wasn’t sure how to put what he wanted into a specific question, because there wasn’t anything specific he wanted to know. He just wanted to know Sasuke. He wanted to know everything.

The little brother he knew was a seven-year-old kid. The brief interactions they’d had since then were enough to give Itachi a good idea of the person Sasuke had become, but they still weren’t anywhere close enough for Itachi to actually know him. And Kakashi Hatake was a wealth of information on this front—a look into a boy Itachi didn’t get to see grow up.

There was so much he wanted to know about—too much. He remembered that angry thirteen-year-old that had charged at him in that inn years ago, so different from the child he left behind. What had that Sasuke been like?

“What was he like?” Itachi asked. “When you met him?”

Kakashi didn’t answer immediately, thinking about his answer. His eyes became slightly distant, thinking back to a different time.

“I assume he was a lot different when you knew him,” Kakashi said, “but the Sasuke I knew was a closed-off kid. He’d been hurt, and he had this wall up to stop it from ever happening again. He was quick to criticize and insult to push everyone away, and was determined to do everything by himself. He refused to ever need anyone.”

Itachi listened to the words with a heavy heart. Some of the description was familiar—that stubborn determination was something Sasuke had always had, even as a young child. But the rest of it…

“He wasn’t interested in being on a team—in caring about anyone. He was focused. Sharp. Angry.”

Itachi lowered his eyes. “At me.”

Kakashi shook his head. “Not just at you. At everything. The world wasn’t fair and the people he loved were gone, and he hated everything that was left because it wasn’t enough.”

There was something in Kakashi’s voice when he spoke the words. They applied to more than just Sasuke—and Itachi understood that this was why Kakashi seemed to read his brother so easily, when for so many others it was an impossible task.

Itachi remembered blood splashed across the floorboards and a terrified face stained with tears; harsh fists and even harsher words, anguished eyes bright with betrayal. He remembered a soft gentleness that turned to sharp, painful edges, innocence and light fracturing into something dark, something broken.

Itachi bowed his head. Shame sank into his bones, making him heavy.

“He should hate me.”

“Maybe,” Kakashi said. “But he doesn’t. Maybe you should start asking yourself why.”

 ★

Yamato was stationed outside Orochimaru’s hideout, guarding the entrance as usual. Sasuke raised an eyebrow when he reached him.

“Aren’t there ever any other guards?” he asked. “Or do you live here now?”

The Wood Style user leveled him with an unimpressed stare. Five years, and he still looked at Sasuke with distrust. Sasuke couldn’t care less what some random Leaf shinobi thought of him, but he couldn’t deny that the constant suspicion grated on his nerves.

It was like that with a lot of people.

“I’m one of the only people strong enough to restrain Orochimaru if he decides to go rogue again,” Yamato said. “Unless you’re volunteering to take my place?”

“Tempting, but I’ll pass.” He peered past the man, into the mouth of the cave. “Has he been up to anything suspicious?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Why? Has he done something?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out.” Sasuke withdrew the letter from his cloak, handing it over. “Here.”

Yamato glanced the letter over—a message from Kakashi, explaining the situation. He watched the way Yamato’s eyes widened as he read the words.

“Itachi? Is this for real? He’s really alive?”

Sasuke made a brief noise of affirmation, having no intention of discussing his brother with this man. “I just need a few minutes with him.”

Yamato blinked a couple times, clearly still processing the information. After a moment, he stepped aside. “Of course. How is something like this even possible…”

Sasuke ignored his voice as it began to trail off. He stepped inside the familiar hideout, walking down the eerily-lit passage. The floors of the lair were carpeted a rich burgundy, and the sconces that lined the walls were in the shape of ornamental snakes, the flames bouncing light off the opposite sides of the corridor.

If being a creepy scientist ever got old, Orochimaru could have an excellent career in interior decorating.

“Sasuke!”

Sasuke turned at the familiar voice, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his sword. A flash of red briefly obscured his vision, and Karin had her arms thrown around his neck, clinging to him as if he were a life preserver.

“I knew I sensed your chakra! What are you doing here?”

Sasuke prayed to Amaterasu to grant him patience as he extracted himself from her claw-like grip. “I have a matter to discuss with Orochimaru.”

After five years, Karin’s intense obsession with him had dulled a bit. However, after long periods of time without seeing him, she tended to revert to her former behavior for the first few minutes, latching onto him like a leech.

“Back again?” Suigetsu asked, as he and Juugo entered a couple moments after Karin. “Careful. We might start to think you actually like us.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Sasuke said dryly, and the Kiri-nin grinned.

“Sasuke,” Juugo greeted mildly. “It’s good to see you.”

Sasuke nodded at him in greeting, still trying to pry Karin’s nails from his cloak. “Where’s Orochimaru?”

“Here for information again?” Suigetsu said. “What’s it about this time?”

“None of your business.”

“Rude! Jeez, you’re still such a bastard—”

“I can take you to him,” Juugo offered. “He was going through what looked like some of his old research when I last saw him.”

Sasuke considered telling Juugo he could locate the man himself. But it had been a nearly half a year since he’d properly spoken to his former team—and Juugo was the only one of them that wouldn’t annoy him two minutes into conversation.

He extracted himself from Karin, pushing her gently away. She protested slightly, but seemed to have calmed down, so she didn’t try to chase after him.

“Come see us before you leave,” she said. “We’ve missed you.”

“She has,” Suigetsu corrected. “I couldn’t care less—"

Karin threw her fist at his face. His head turned to water, splashing against Sasuke’s cheek.

“How are you?” Juugo asked, as the two of them left the bickering pair behind, continuing down the hall. “It’s been some time since we last spoke. Have you been back to Konoha much?”

“A few times. I’m busy with missions.”

Juugo nodded. There was no judgement on his face, no follow up remark about how maybe you should go home more often, which Sasuke appreciated. As much as he loved Naruto and Sakura, they still didn’t truly understand how it felt for him to be in Konoha. And often times, when he tried to talk about how suffocated the place sometimes made him feel, they got these expressions on their faces that made him feel guilty for still not being completely happy.

(It’s been five years, those expressions seemed to say. Why are you still running away? Why are we still not enough?)

Sasuke didn’t know how to explain that it had nothing to do with them.

“Here we are,” Juugo announced, as they stepped in front of one of the many rooms. “I’ll let the two of you talk. I hope you get what you came here for.”

Sasuke nodded at him in thanks, as Juugo turned around and retreated back down the hall. Sasuke placed his hand on the hilt of Kusanagi, opening the door and stepping inside.

Orochimaru was sitting hunched over a desk. He spun his chair around when the door opened, greeting Sasuke with a sharp-edged smile. “Sasuke-kun. What a pleasant surprise. I was just thinking about you, you know.”

“I’m sure you were,” Sasuke said dryly. He entered the room further, closing the door behind him. “I came because I need information.”

“Yes, that’s usually the case. What horrible misfortune do you need my insight on this time?”

The amusement on his face was as clear as the disdain on Sasuke’s. He was putting on airs of being disinterested, even though Sasuke had clearly gained his full attention the moment he entered the room.

Sasuke hesitated before he spoke. Despite Orochimaru clearly changing in the years since his revival, Sasuke still would never trust him. He was a manipulator, the same as Danzo had been, and Sasuke was reluctant to give him any information that could be wielded against him.

“My brother was revived less than a week ago,” he said. “Fully alive. And not by the Edo-Tensei.”

He watched his former teacher’s reaction carefully. There was brief surprise on his face— but not true shock, like there should have been. Instead, Orochimaru’s golden eyes widened. Realization dawned over his face.

It happened in a split second, but Sasuke saw it clear as day. Sasuke immediately straightened, stepping forward and locking his eyes on the man.

“What did you fucking do?”

A slight wince passed over his pale face. “Let’s not lose our head, Sasuke-kun. This wasn’t me, really. I didn’t bring Itachi back—”

“But you did something.”

Orochimaru didn’t deny it. Sasuke stared at him, his jaw clenched. His hand tightened on his sword.

“Some of the research I was working on was… stolen recently,” the Sannin began. “A few weeks ago. I don’t know who it could have been or how they could have gotten inside. As you’ve seen, this place is under constant watch—”

“The research,” Sasuke snapped. “What was it? What were you trying to do?”

Orochimaru’s hesitation was a bit longer this time. “I was attempting to improve the reanimation jutsu. To make it so that the souls weren’t simply reanimated, but were truly alive again. I was experimenting with yours and Itachi’s DNA—the two of you have an extremely close blood relation, and I really was getting close to a breakthrough when—”

Sasuke’s anger hit him like a punch. He held up a hand sharply. “Stop.”

Orochimaru seemed to recognize by his tone that he was on extremely thin ice, because he obeyed the order. Sasuke lowered his hand back to his side. He closed his eyes, his hand becoming a fist, as he tried to sort through the thoughts in his head.

“You’re telling me that you’ve been experimenting with forbidden jutsu… with my brother’s DNA… so you could resurrect him?”

“It was only research,” Orochimaru said, as if this excused the massive violation. “I never got to any of the practical applications. I couldn’t figure out one step—how to reform the specific body. Then, like I said, someone stole all of my research, along with the genetic samples I had—”

“And how long, exactly, have you been working on this?”  

“…Three years.”

“Three years?! You’ve been planning this that long?!”

“I haven’t been planning anything. It was more like a… side-project, if you will.”

Sasuke was fuming. He didn’t know why he was surprised—he really shouldn’t be. Just because Orochimaru was no longer kidnapping infants and experimenting on human test subjects didn’t make him any less Orochimaru. His goals might have changed, but his complete disregard of ethics hadn’t. If Konoha allowed it, he still wouldn’t hesitate to cut someone open for curiosity’s sake.

“Don’t give me that look,” Orochimaru said with a huff. “I don’t know who stole my research, but you have your brother back now, don’t you? So be grateful.”

“Spare me your pedantic ‘I-did-it-for-you’ bullshit. I’m not in the mood. Just tell me about this damn technique. How is it supposed to work?”

Orochimaru looked at him a moment longer, apparently not convinced that Sasuke wasn’t going to nail his ass to the wall for practicing forbidden jutsu. But he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“It’s fairly simple in layman’s terms. I assume you know the basic procedure for the reanimation jutsu? Well, the basis of it is built on that. Only instead of binding a soul to a different body, they return in their own body, drawn back to this plane by the DNA of a close blood relative. In this case, that would be you.”

Sasuke frowned. “Blood relative?”

“It has to be close,” Orochimaru said, “otherwise the DNA isn’t similar enough to draw the soul back here. For example, I could use your DNA to bring back your brother, or your parents, but I couldn’t use it to bring back Madara Uchiha.”

Thank the gods for small mercies, Sasuke thought.

“That’s where it gets complicated. Drawing the soul back to the living world is one thing, but once it’s there, you need something to bind it in place. This requires merging two compatible chakras together inside the body—the deceased and the close relative—in order to bind the soul to something living. But the close relative needs to have something binding them to the deceased as well.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to parse through the words. Merging of chakras… linking DNAs…

So Itachi possesses some of my chakra… but I have to have some part of his DNA, as well, so how…

“His eyes,” Sasuke said in realization, his hand coming up to his face.

Orochimaru grinned. “Exactly. You have Itachi’s eyes. Which means there’s already a pre-established link between the two of you on your side.”

Some of the logistics of it were lost on him, but Sasuke understood the basics of the explanation. Itachi’s soul was being held here due to some intricate merging of their chakras—that, along with his eyes in Sasuke’s head, was keeping Itachi bound here.

“So whoever did this… they established a link between me and Itachi in order to hold him to this plane once they drew his soul back.”

“Mind you, this is all just theoretical,” Orochimaru was quick to point out. “I told you, I haven’t attempted it yet. My research was incomplete—”

“Because you didn’t know how to reform Itachi’s body. But whoever stole your research, they figured that part out.”

“Yes,” Orochimaru said, scowling deeply. “It’s quite annoying, actually. Like someone completing the final part of a problem and then taking credit for the whole thing, even though they only helped at the very end and you’re the one who did ninety-five percent of the work—"

Sasuke cut the man off before he could go off on a tangent. He wasn’t interested in hearing anything from him that wasn’t information he needed to know. He could feel the anger in his gut, trying to rise up. Luckily, he was very practiced at packing the emotion down.

“Itachi’s life and mine are bound together. So if he were to die… or I were to die… the other would die, too?”   

Orochimaru shook his head. “Not you. The link doesn’t work both ways. If something were to happen to Itachi, you wouldn’t be at all affected. Itachi, on the other hand—his soul is bound to this world solely by your lifeforce. Without you, that tie is immediately severed.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “And he dies again.”

“Exactly.”

This knowledge settled over him, an unknown emotion sinking in his chest, briefly overshadowing the anger. Orochimaru looked at him, his slit eyes sharp.

“In other words, his life is literally in your hands.”

 ★

Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado were two people who, in Itachi’s opinion, should have died of old age a long time ago.

The two elders sat looking at him with world-weary eyes and lined faces. Itachi met their gazes head-on, despite the discomfort it caused him. Their stares prickled against his skin as he subjected himself to their scrutiny.

It reminded him of being thirteen—kneeling on the wooden floor in his ANBU mask, entangled in the political strings of people far older and far more powerful than him. It reminded him of the feeling of being helpless.

Itachi didn’t kneel in front of them this time.

“So it really is true.” Koharu spoke first, looking like she didn’t know what to make of him. “This is quite unprecedented.”

“And troublesome,” Homura said. “If you can be brought back, then what is to stop this person who did it from doing it again with others? This is not the natural order of things.”

Itachi was reluctant to agree with them, but it was true. He felt a spark of unease in his gut. They still knew nothing about the culprit behind his mysterious resurrection. Who was doing this? How, and for what reason?

And why him?

There was no empty space between where the two elders sat, but Danzo’s absence was still very apparent. It was most likely his earlier conversation with Sasuke that made Itachi so aware of it. Kakashi had left the room—he had wanted to stay, but Itachi had insisted on doing this alone.

“Itachi,” Homura said, a cautious tone in his voice. “Now that you are back here, it is only right for us to offer you our apologies for what you were ordered to do. You have our gratitude for your service to Konoha.”

Itachi fought to keep his surprise from his face. Koharu’s expression became slightly pinched at the other’s words, as if she didn’t quite agree, but she didn’t refute the words her colleague had spoken.

Compared to Danzo and his ironclad ideals, the other two elders were… not kind, and certainly never compassionate, but they had at least exhibited some reluctance in giving the order to murder the Uchiha. Itachi doubted they truly regretted their actions, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that they might feel a slight guilt.

Itachi bowed his head, ignoring the nauseous feeling in his stomach. “Thank you. But there’s no need.”

The words felt like razor blades as he forced them from his throat. As he remembered the katana that had dripped his parents’ blood onto the wooden floor—

“What will you be doing now?” Koharu asked. “Will you be registering as a Konoha shinobi again? Your skills will be of great use.”

Homura shot Koharu a sharp look, as if to say watch yourself, but it didn’t matter. Itachi had already caught on to the purpose of the words—to this entire conversation.

The apology hadn’t been because they truly felt bad. No, they just wanted to be sure that he was still loyal to Konoha, now that he was back. They wanted to know he would fight for them, that they could use his skills, just as before.

Itachi remembered the way Sasuke had spoken of the elders before. He wondered if it was the same for him.

“You don’t have to decide these things now,” Homura said, trying to smooth over the other’s words. “It’s only been a few days since you’ve been revived, after all.”

Itachi wasn’t sure how to respond. Truthfully, he hadn’t even thought of what he was going to do in the long-term. These past few days, he had been subconsciously assuming that this wasn’t permanent—that they would find whoever did this and undo it. But what if this wasn’t the case? What if he really was here to stay?

What would he do then? Did he really want to be a shinobi again, after everything? He was so tired of fighting… but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine himself doing anything else.

“Take some time to make the decision,” Homura said. “But know that Konoha is very much in need of shinobi of your caliber. Your skills would go to waste anywhere else.”

Itachi felt like he was thirteen again—yet at the same time, he felt incredibly older than twenty-one.

“Thank you,” he said. “I will.”

 ★

Karin hugged him before he left, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her red hair pressed against his face.

“It was good to see you, Sasuke.”

Sasuke allowed his arm to circle her lightly—acknowledging the hug, though not quite returning it. Orochimaru’s words were still sinking into his brain, still being processed. He didn’t know how to take in everything he had learned—how he was supposed to feel.

Karin retreated after saying goodbye. Sasuke watched her, a light crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“I don’t get her.”

“She cares about you,” Juugo told him, pushing off the hideout wall. “We all do.”

“I stabbed her in the chest.”

“She forgave you for that.”

“Like I said, I don’t get her.”

The both of them were quiet. Sasuke stared down at his wrist, tracing the blue-green veins with his eyes. His life is literally in your hands…

“Sasuke,” Juugo said quietly, with eyes that were heavy with concern. “Are you okay?”

No, Sasuke thought. I’m not.

“I’m fine,” he said instead, because he didn’t know how he was feeling and it was too much to explain anyway.

I will always love all of you, until the oceans themselves are dust.

Sasuke’s chest tightened. He stared down at the veins in his wrist, the life in them somehow the only thing keeping Itachi tethered to this world. And a feeling welled up in his chest that threatened to choke him.

It felt like five years ago, bleeding out next to Naruto on the ground. His chest filling up with too many emotions and being unable to name a single one of them.

He regretted that choice, sometimes. When he walked the streets of the place responsible for ripping away everything he loved, he regretted his words at the Valley of the End, regretted letting the words I lost escape his lips. He regretted laying down his sword, regretted letting his hatred die out.

Where has the fire gone? he wondered. Why did I let it go?

He wanted it back, sometimes. He wanted the fire spreading through his veins, running through his blood, wanted to feel its burn in his heart. He wanted to be angry and vengeful and out of control, because even that terrifying feeling of falling was better than this.

This stillness. This existing.

Sometimes, Sasuke thought there was a secret part of himself that wanted to drop his entire life off a cliff and watch it break into a million pieces when it hit the bottom.

Chapter Text

“That’s bullshit,” Sasuke said, mouth set in a furious snarl as he unpacked the groceries from the bags on the counter. “Who the hell do they think they are—”

“Sasuke,” Itachi said quietly, attempting to curb his anger before it could truly start up, “it’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

His hand was shaking around the box of cereal he pulled from the bag. He slammed it down with much more force than necessary. A familiar rage was flickering in his chest—much more muted than his anger used to be, but still sparking through all of his nerves.

“They have no right,” he said, teeth clenching. “No right to ask you to fight for them again. After everything…”

He trailed off, unable to properly express his outrage. He’d known his brother going to speak to the elders would be a mistake. To think that they had asked him to fight for them again—to pick up his sword for them and continue to stain it with blood—what gave them any right? As if he had returned from the dead to instantly resume his place as their loyal tool.

It sickened Sasuke down to his bones.

Itachi was by his side in the kitchen, helping him unload the groceries. Sasuke had picked them up as he had promised on his way back home from his visit with Orochimaru. His mind was still spinning from the troubling information he had learned there, and now his irritation was increased tenfold upon hearing what the elders had had to say.

“They were just giving me the option,” Itachi said. “They weren’t forcing me into anything.”

Sasuke scoffed. “How considerate of them.”

Itachi didn’t say anything. The even expression on his face was extremely familiar. A mask of casual indifference that hid any distressed feelings. Sasuke had always hated that look, even as a child when he hadn’t been able to recognize it as a fake one.

Sasuke tried to push his bitter feelings toward the elders away. Those were the thoughts that made him question the choice he had made to stay—the choice he had made not to burn it all down. The doubts gnawed at his brain like a dog with a bone. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change.

“Hey.” Itachi placed a hand over his shaking one on the cereal box, looking at him with a gentle expression. “I know. They frustrate me, too.”

It was still a shock for Itachi to touch him—his skin warm and not cold. Sasuke stared down at their overlapping hands; their fingers were identical, slender and delicate. The corner of Itachi’s thumbnail was still rimmed with purple.

“You never show it,” Sasuke said. “Any of it.”

Itachi smiled in a way that was close to sad but not quite. “Oh, little brother. I could fill a library with the things I don’t show.”

Sasuke blinked. The words were uncharacteristically candid of his brother, who preferred to speak his truths in the form of philosophical riddles rather than outright. But Sasuke had noticed his attempts at being more open since his resurrection—showing and speaking his feelings more readily.

I will always love all of you, until the oceans themselves are dust.

Sasuke’s heart grew heavy at the remembered words, as he recalled what he had learnt earlier today. Itachi’s hand over his own was suddenly an unbearable reminder of the tether that existed between them. Sasuke pulled his hand free, turning around and barely catching the slight frown on his brother’s face.

“Sasuke?”

“I learned something today from Orochimaru. It was his research that was responsible for bringing you back.”

He didn’t look at his brother when he spoke, but he felt the way Itachi straightened. “Orochimaru? He brought me back?”

Sasuke shook his head. “No. It wasn’t him. He just… created the means for someone else to do so. Someone stole his research from his lab before he could fully complete it. But apart from the final steps, whoever stole it basically had a how-to manual on how to resurrect you.”

“I’m guessing this research wasn’t exactly sanctioned.”

Sasuke’s back teeth clenched when he thought of that man secretly messing around with his and his brother’s DNA for the past three years. “No.”

Itachi frowned, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “And there are no leads on the person who stole it?”

“None.”

“Do you know how they did it?”

The heaviness in Sasuke’s chest increased. He could see the blue-green veins in his wrist through his skin. His life, binding Itachi’s. “Yes. I didn’t completely follow the explanation, but—your life. It’s tied to mine.”

Itachi startled, dark eyes widening. “What?”

Sasuke refused to do something as obvious as flinch. Nausea churned in his stomach. “The original reanimation jutsu works by binding a soul to an empty corpse. This one works mostly the same, but it binds the soul to someone living, someone who’s a close DNA match…”

Sasuke went on to explain the process as Orochimaru had told it to him—as much of it as Sasuke had been able to understand, at least. He explained about his eyes—Itachi’s eyes—serving as an anchor to Itachi’s soul. He explained about their merged chakras.

“Merged chakras,” Itachi muttered thoughtfully.

Sasuke frowned, turning his head to look at him. “Yeah. What is it?”

“That actually makes sense. Ever since I’ve been back, I’ve noticed that I’ve been unnaturally attuned to your chakra. Just this morning, I was able to feel the moment you woke up. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but if my current chakra has been merged with yours, then that could explain it.”

Sasuke hadn’t experienced anything like that. At least, he hadn’t noticed it. Except… there was that moment in the hospital, when he had walked in the room and had recognized Itachi by his chakra immediately.

“We’ll figure this out,” Sasuke said. “I’ll find who did this to you, and we’ll undo this bind between us.”

Preferably in a way that doesn’t require me to gouge your eyes out of my head, he thought.

He wouldn’t allow his brother to live a life like this. Not truly alive, not truly bound by gravity to the earth—but bound to Sasuke instead, completely dependent on Sasuke’s life to remain breathing. He would make sure Itachi’s life was his own.

He wouldn’t be responsible for Itachi’s life. He couldn’t. The weight of it was too much, and he didn’t trust himself with it.

Something unreadable passed through Itachi’s dark eyes. “You would do that?”

“Of course.”

Itachi looked at him for a long moment, and Sasuke felt distinctly uncomfortable by the gaze. But then his brother nodded, breaking his intense stare. “Alright. Then that’s what we’ll do. I doubt whoever brought me back had good intentions in mind, after all.”

“No,” Sasuke agreed. “It’s unlikely.”

The ‘why’ of it all was certainly concerning. It was said that you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but whoever said that had likely ended up dead very quick. You absolutely should look a gift horse in the mouth, especially one that had been given under such suspicious circumstances; not looking was how you ended up with a knife in the back.

Itachi’s return couldn’t be the miracle it appeared to be. There had to be something behind it—someone working some sort of scheme.

“So we’ll track them down,” said Itachi. “I’ll help you. As soon as we can break this bind between us so I’m no longer stuck here—”

Sasuke stilled. Ice spread through him.

Itachi was still speaking. But there was a buzzing in Sasuke’s ears, and the words were drowned out. He watched his brother’s mouth move, and his voice was muffled as if he were hearing it from underwater.

That word repeated in his brain. Stuck.

Stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck—

Something acrid burned in the back of Sasuke’s throat. It was thick and disgusting, like tar. It pierced him the way Madara Uchiha had pierced his heart, and then it sharpened into something hotter, a transformation of hurt to anger that he was very familiar with.

Itachi didn’t want to be here. Itachi thought he was stuck here.

“Sasuke?” Itachi said, frowning slightly. “Is something wrong?”

You want to leave me again, Sasuke thought, like he was still a small child instead of twenty-two years old. He swallowed, pushing down on the pathetic voice.

Itachi didn’t want to be standing next to Sasuke in the kitchen of his apartment. He wanted to be gone. He wanted to be dead again.

“I forgot,” Sasuke said, his emotions hidden, “I need to go tell Kakashi about what happened with Orochimaru. I was supposed to report to him when I got back.”

“Oh.” Itachi looked slightly thrown by the words. “Yeah, you should go do that. We can talk later.”

“Sure,” Sasuke said, having no intention of doing such a thing. He didn’t look at his brother as he buttoned his cloak up with one hand.

As he made for the door of his apartment, he tried to push his bitterness down. He wasn’t seven anymore—wasn’t thirteen, sixteen, seventeen, watching as his brother repeatedly left him behind. He was twenty-two, and Itachi had been dead for five years. He had made his peace with his ghost. He was over this.

But the memory of that abandonment, the sting of it, lingered, like the phantom pain in his arm. The memory of watching Itachi’s back and wondering, why won’t you ever stay? Why am I never enough?

★

“I’m worried about Sasuke,” Naruto confessed early that morning, as he sat down at the table for breakfast.

Hinata was at the stove. She was frying eggs and hashbrowns. The delicious smell was almost enough to distract him from his worry. It had been two whole years and a large part of him still wasn’t used to this—sharing his days with someone, having someone who loved him unconditionally. He hoped he would never get used to it.

Hinata was beautiful in the morning, even with her hair unbrushed and slightly tangled. She was always beautiful. She brought Naruto his breakfast, slipping into the chair across from him.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he noticed she hadn’t made any for herself, and only had a container of yogurt in front of her. “Is that all you’re having?”

“Yes,” she said with a slight grimace. “My stomach isn’t agreeing with me this morning. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.”

Naruto frowned. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast, then. I could’ve just had—”

“Ramen? No, dear. I’m breaking you of that habit.”

“Ramen is a perfectly healthy food!”

“Not for all three meals of the day.”

Naruto huffed but didn’t argue with her. He still thought her insistence he ate too much ramen was ridiculous—but he wouldn’t complain about such a delicious breakfast. Naruto had never been able to cook, so he’d never gotten to eat meals like this growing up alone in his small apartment.

“So,” Hinata said. “You’re worried about Sasuke. You think he’s having a hard time with what’s happened?”

“I know he is. Even if he’d sooner fight Kaguya again than admit it.”

“When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

“Yesterday. He was on his way to question Orochimaru.” Naruto grimaced at the thought of the man who had manipulated Sasuke for so long and who had killed the Third Hokage. He was all for forgiveness and second chances, but he still didn’t like that the elders kept Orochimaru around.

“This must be very hard for him to process,” Hinata said. “I don’t know much about Sasuke-kun’s relationship with his brother, but I imagine that it’s very complicated.”

Naruto snorted. “Complicated is an understatement. Sasuke loves him though, more than anything. I just don’t want this to bring up old stuff for him.”

Naruto frowned down at his own hand, gold wedding band on his ring finger. He knew all of his best friend’s complex emotions when it came to his older brother; he had felt them himself.

At the Valley of the End, when the two of them had traded blows—there was an intimacy involved in that brutal, desperate exchange of punches. It had allowed him understand Sasuke better than any words ever had. Naruto had felt Sasuke’s emotions for Itachi; the intricate, twisted web of love and hate and betrayal and devotion and grief and guilt—and a hundred other inextricable things impossible to separate.

“You should have a day with him,” Hinata suggested. “I know you’ve been wanting to spar with him. Maybe have him bring Itachi.”

Naruto nodded. “Yeah, I think I will. And it would be nice to talk to Itachi, I guess.”

His feelings concerning Sasuke’s older brother were rather mixed. But he did respect the guy. And Itachi had trusted Sasuke’s fate to him at the end—Naruto wanted to assure him he’d kept his promise. He’d pulled Sasuke from the darkness and brought him back home.

“We should do it later today,” the blonde decided. “All of us. I’ll tell Sasuke. You should come too, if you’re feeling better.”

Hinata smiled. “It’s a plan. Though you’ll need to drag Kakashi-sensei out of his office.”

“A chance to get away from his paperwork? He’ll be thanking me.”

★

Naruto found Sasuke in the last place he would’ve expected to find him: in front of the Yamanaka’s flower shop, being pressed against the wall by Ino.

For a moment, he thought they were kissing. Then his eyes caught up with his brain, and he realized their mouths weren’t actually connected. Ino’s face was shoved incredibly close to Sasuke’s, and she was speaking to him; Sasuke looked very uncomfortable, like he was fighting against the impulse to lash out with a kunai.

“—gone so long, and I think flowers are something she would really appreciate.”

“And I would appreciate it if you backed away from me.”

Ino’s eyes narrowed. “I’m looking out for my friend. If you can’t be bothered to care about her—”

“My relationship with Sakura is none of your business. I’m warning you one more time, get off me.”

Naruto didn’t know why Ino didn’t seem to hear the obvious danger in Sasuke’s voice—maybe she was stupid enough to just not care. But Naruto heard it, and he quickly bolted over to the other side of the street to get between them.

“Hey,” Naruto said with a grin. “What’s going on? Sasuke, I was looking for you!”

“I was just telling Sasuke-kun that he should get Sakura some flowers,” Ino said, her narrowed eyes not moving from Sasuke. “After being gone so long, it’s the least he can do.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened in anger.

“Sasuke was on a mission,” Naruto said quickly, throwing a cautious glance his friend’s way. “Sakura knows that. Besides, why would he get her flowers? That would send her the wrong message.”

“Exactly,” Sasuke snapped, “so back off.”

Irritation flashed through the blonde girl’s eyes. Finally, she huffed and stepped back so she was no longer crowding Sasuke’s space. “Fine! Sakura deserves better than you, you know.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” the Uchiha said, before turning and walking away. His cloak billowed behind him.

Ino crossed her arms over her chest, a scowl twisting her lips. “Can you believe him?”

Naruto wasn’t sure what she expected, invading Sasuke’s personal space like that. Naruto simply shrugged at her, offering her a sheepish grin before darting after his friend.

“Sasuke! Sasuke, wait! Stop walking so fast!”

Sasuke slowed his pace slightly and allowed Naruto to catch up. He came up on Sasuke’s left side, where his missing arm was hidden by his cloak. “What was that about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Sasuke said with an annoyed huff. “Just more people thinking they have a right to tell me what I should do with my life. I hate this place sometimes.”

Naruto felt a tightening in his chest. Sasuke looked at him guiltily when he realized what he’d said.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Yes, Naruto thought. You did.

“Hey,” the jinchuuriki said, changing the subject. “Look on the bright side. At least Ino isn’t fawning all over you anymore, right?”

Sasuke made a disgusted face at the dozens of childhood memories. “Ugh.”

Naruto grinned in amusement. “You know, I used to be so jealous of you for the way all the girls in the Academy chased after you. It pissed me off so much that you were getting all the attention and never appreciated any of it.”

“It was sexual harassment.” Naruto snorted and Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “You’re laughing, but it’s the truth.”

“Oh, poor you.” The two of them were walking in the opposite direction of Sasuke’s current apartment, and Naruto asked him, “Where are you heading?”

“Thought I’d get some training in. You?”

“Looking for you. I thought we might hang out this afternoon—all of us. We can spar, and you can show me that new jutsu you said you had?”

Sasuke stopped walking and considered it. “Yeah, okay. Kakashi too?”

“Yep! I’m dragging him out of his office. Might need your help.” He looked at his friend carefully. “You know, you can bring Itachi if you want.”

Sasuke hesitated, looking reluctant. “I don’t know about that.”

“Why?” Naruto asked with a frown. “Did you guys fight about something?”

“We’re not… fighting. It’s just complicated. And I’m not sure it’s a good idea for him to just be hanging out in public.”

“Why not? It’s not still a secret that he’s back, is it?”

Sasuke sighed. “No. People have seen him walking around.”

“Then bring him! He’s been locked up in your apartment, right? It’ll probably be good for him to talk to other people—and for you, too.”

Sasuke hesitated again before replying. “Fine. I’ll bring him.”

Naruto grinned. “Great! Our normal training ground, at about one?”

“Sure. Prepare to get your ass kicked.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

★

“Are you certain you want me to come with you?” Itachi asked. He stood leaning against the counter, as he watched his brother who stood by the couch. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Sasuke didn’t look at him as he spoke, his back facing him. “Naruto invited you.”

He strapped his sword to the right side of his hip before grabbing his cloak and pulling it on, fastening it at his throat. All his actions were smooth and effortless despite only having one hand to perform them with.

Itachi was already dressed. He wore his brother’s clothes again, the Uchiha Clan’s crest hand-sewn onto the back of the shirt. The stitching was nearly as perfect as their mother’s had been, and his heart had ached at seeing it—at imagining Sasuke painstakingly sewing it into the fabric.

Sasuke wore their crest with pride, even after everything. Itachi was glad.

His brother had been distant with him since their conversation yesterday evening. Not that he hadn’t been before, that they both hadn’t been; but this seemed slightly colder than the stilted awkwardness that had been present between them since his resurrection. More than simply nervous tension, discomfort at trying to navigate a relationship that had rotted and rusted.

Itachi yearned to know what he had done. But once again, he was afraid to breach sensitive subjects and break this fragile peace between them—afraid to tread on one of many landmines and ignite an explosion.

Coward, a voice whispered in his head.

Itachi watched his brother closely. He hadn’t noticed until Sasuke had told him about their lives being bound, just how unnaturally attuned to the other’s movements he was. He could practically feel the thread connecting the two of them, anchoring him to the earth, and it seemed ridiculous he hadn’t noticed it before.

Just another burden he had placed on Sasuke’s shoulders. Itachi, chaining himself to his brother and holding him under the water.

Itachi walked forward slightly. Sasuke still wasn’t looking at him.

“If you want me to come, then I’ll come,” Itachi said. “But I know I upset you yesterday. I didn’t mean to.”

Sasuke’s shoulder blades stiffened. “Do you know how you upset me?”

Itachi’s mouth thinned. He thought back to yesterday—the brief flash of hurt before Sasuke’s face had shut down like the slamming of iron doors. “No,” Itachi admitted. “I don’t.”

“Then how about you figure it out before fucking apologizing.”

Sasuke walked over to the door and pulled it open, exiting the apartment without giving Itachi a chance to respond. Itachi didn’t know what to say anyway, so just followed after his brother.

They didn’t talk as they walked down the street. Itachi was already regretting choosing to accompany him, and the feeling was only amplified when he was instantly met with the stares of all the villagers. He should’ve stayed inside the apartment.

Most of the more intense stares belonged to shinobi. The civilian population looked at him and the crest on his back with puzzled, curious eyes. Itachi heard snatches of conversation, his name muttered in gossipy whispers.

“…another Uchiha? But I thought there was only…”

“…Itachi Uchiha!”

…supposed to be dead! How…”

“…hero to the Leaf. But I heard…”

“…Sasuke Uchiha was, too. He betrayed…”

“…alive again?”

Itachi ignored the whispers as best he could. Sasuke’s grip on the hilt of his sword was tight.

The shinobi, on the other hand—they looked at him with clear recognition, wariness and suspicion in their stares. It was very reminiscent of how his clan had been looked at after the Nine-Tails’ attack. Itachi wondered if the looks were solely due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding his resurrection, or if they were also because it was him—Clan-Killer Itachi, former traitor and terrorist.

The truth of his actions was publicly known now. But Itachi had worked hard to build up his reputation as someone power-hungry and merciless, had crafted a flawlessly villainous persona. Mere words about a dead man—words that contradicted that image entirely—wouldn’t be enough to fully erase that perception of him from Konoha’s minds.  

Sasuke’s face was impassive. But his visible eye held a veiled anger at the stares, so well hidden that even Itachi could barely pick it out.

It was certainly a change from the seventeen-year-old of before, who had worn the flames of his rage plain upon his face. Itachi wasn’t sure how he felt about that, that his brother had learnt how to bury his anger—that he felt like he had to.

They arrived at the training field, the sun shining out over a field of grass. The sky was blue and cloudless. There were three figures sitting on the ground, their features growing clearer as Itachi approached them with his brother.

“Sasuke!” Naruto exclaimed, grinning widely. “You came! And you brought Itachi!”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “You told me to.”

“Yeah, but since when do you listen to me?”

This was Itachi’s first time seeing Naruto since returning to life. Once again, Itachi struggled to wrap his mind around the changes five years had wrought. The young man in front of him was no longer the boy of seventeen he remembered; he was no younger than Itachi, a maturity to his face that hadn’t been there before. A gold wedding band glinted on his left hand.

The dark-haired woman next to him could only be his wife. Her pale eyes immediately distinguished her as a member of the Hyuuga Clan. Kakashi was there as well, dressed in his shinobi uniform rather than his Hokage robes. It was hard to remember he even was the Hokage, with the way he seemed to so casually mingle with the villagers. The Third Hokage had certainly never done such a thing, and Itachi had never once seen him out of his official attire.

“Where’s Sakura?” Sasuke asked, moving to sit down beside them. Itachi followed his lead, trying not to look as out of place as he felt.

“She took an extra shift at the hospital,” Naruto said. “She said she’d be here later.”

“Why?” Kakashi asked Sasuke, his eye curving in an obvious tell that he was smirking beneath his mask. “Do you miss her? Sasuke, that’s so cute.”

Sasuke glowered at him. “Fuck off. Who even invited you?”

“Rude.” The Rokudaime fanned himself against the sun’s rays with a copy of Icha Icha Paradise. “After I took a break from all my work to hang out with you?”

“You were sleeping at your desk when we came to get you,” Naruto said. Kakashi waved him off.

Immediately after, Naruto turned to look at Itachi with a familiar grin on his face. “Hey, Itachi! It’s good to see you again! How have you been? Well, you know, apart from being dead… I doubt that was good…”

Sasuke grimaced at the careless words, shooting the blonde an annoyed look. Naruto rubbed the back of his neck and laughed sheepishly.

Almost against his will, Itachi found his lips curving into a small smile. “It’s nice to see you again too, Naruto-kun.”

Even though it felt like they had seen each other less than a week ago. He remembered standing across the clearing from that teenager. He remembered his parting words: I leave Sasuke to you.

One of the only correct choices he had ever made.

He turned to the woman next to his brother’s savior, bowing his head slightly in greeting. “You must be Naruto’s wife. Apologies, I don’t recall your name.”

The Hyuuga heiress smiled. “Hinata,” she told him. She seemed slightly wary of him, but her demeanor was overall kind. “It’s lovely to meet you, Uchiha-san.”

Itachi winced at the address, the same he remembered so many people addressing his father. “Itachi is fine.”

“Itachi-san,” Hinata amended.

Naruto snorted. “Don’t bother trying to get anything more than that,” he told Itachi with a affectionate grin. “Until a couple years ago, she was still addressing Sasuke as ‘Sasuke-san’.”

A light blush appeared on Hinata’s cheeks. She slapped her husband on the arm. “Hush. I’m being polite.”

Naruto turned back to Sasuke eagerly, a spark in his eyes. “So, are you ready to show me that new jutsu of yours?”

“Sure,” Sasuke said. “Are you ready for me to embarrass you in front of your wife?”

“You’re the one who’s going to be embarrassed when I kick your ass right in front of your brother!”

“Fifty ryō on Sasuke,” Kakashi said.

Naruto’s head whipped around to stare at the silver-haired man in betrayal. “What? Kakashi-sensei!”

Itachi smiled at the interaction. On habit, he ducked his head to hide the expression.

Naruto and Sasuke both stood up to begin their spar. They walked to the other side of the field, close enough to still be visible to their spectators, but at a far enough distance to be out of their way. Kakashi had turned to Hinata to chat with her, but Itachi’s eyes were fixed on his brother. He was eager to witness Sasuke’s fighting abilities after five years—how he was regarded as one of the strongest shinobi, even with only one of his arms.

The two young men started out simple. They clashed with taijutsu, dancing around each other with an expert familiarity that spoke of years of sparring together. Barely any strikes landed, the other anticipating and stepping adeptly out of the way, and the ones that did were easily blocked.

Naruto was focusing more on Sasuke’s left side, trying to find an opening. But even without his arm, Sasuke was evading and defending easily.

“He’s good,” Itachi murmured.

Kakashi looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “You’re surprised?”

“No,” Itachi said, eyes still locked on the sparring session. “This is nothing. I know what he’s capable of. But with one arm…”

Itachi didn’t doubt his brother had approached learning to fight one-armed the same way he had with everything else—with ruthless determination, relentlessly pursuing his set path. But it was still impressive, to see how graceful all of his moves were, the missing limb never seeming to make him stumble even the slightest.

“He worked hard to be able to fight that well without it,” Kakashi said. “He refused to be any less skilled than he had been before. Then in true fashion, he went beyond that—he’s even better than before, now.”

Sasuke flipped off the ground and over Naruto’s head when the blonde attempted a maneuver to bring him to the ground. His hair fluttered, and Itachi narrowed his eyes, once again catching the flash of purple he had briefly glimpsed on a few other occasions.

What is that?

Sasuke’s Sharingan had activated. He had drawn his sword from its sheath, and lightning sparked along the blade. Naruto had become quicker in response, his strikes harder and more serious.

“That’s all you got?” Naruto challenged. “I’m falling asleep over here!”

Itachi saw Sasuke’s mouth pull into a smirk—and in a flash he was gone, lightning-wreathed sword slashing toward Naruto’s throat. Naruto grabbed him by the cloak and threw him around, but Sasuke threw his sword—

Sasuke’s bangs, for the first time, were pushed out of his face. Revealing the legendary purple eye hidden behind them. He and the sword swapped places, and Sasuke’s foot collided hard with Naruto’s chin.

Itachi stared with wide eyes, then whipped his head toward Kakashi. “Is that the Rinnegan?”

Kakashi blinked at him. “Wow. He really didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

Itachi didn’t respond. It was as much his fault as it was Sasuke’s that they hadn’t been talking—both of them dancing around each other, uncertain and out of practice with navigating the same space.

The Rinnegan. Itachi felt the shock of seeing it in his brother’s face ripple through him. Its power was elusive and unknown even to the Uchiha Clan. It had been said to no longer exist, though Itachi had realized this was untrue upon meeting Pain.

“How did Sasuke get it?” Itachi asked.

The Rokudaime made a face. “I don’t even know if I can explain that. It’s confusing as hell and doesn’t make much sense. Long story short, it involved him getting stabbed in the heart—”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Hinata said chidingly. She gave Itachi a calming smile. “You don’t need to worry, Itachi-san. Sasuke was perfectly fine.”

Before Itachi could find the words to inquire further, he saw that Sasuke had managed to get Naruto pinned, his blade held against his throat. Naruto was scowling up at him.

“Yield,” Sasuke said.

“I could easily get out of this, you know.”

“I know. But we agreed we wouldn’t wreck the training ground anymore, remember?”

Naruto frowned for a long moment. Finally, he relented with an unhappy sigh. “Fine, bastard. You win. This time. I’m still ahead of you by three.”

“Two,” Sasuke corrected, lowering his blade and offering the jinchuuriki his hand.

“What?” Naruto grabbed his hand and pulled himself up. “No! It’s three! I’ve beat you three more times than—”

“I told you, that time with the dog doesn’t count.”

“It does too!”

The two young men made their way back toward where Kakashi, Hinata, and Itachi were sitting. Naruto plopped down next to his wife, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Sasuke’s forehead was also glistening with perspiration. He sat down next to Itachi, tucking his legs beneath him. “Naruto,” he continued to argue, “it doesn’t count.”

Kakashi looked at the pair of them curiously. “What are we talking about? What dog was this?”

“Nothing,” said Sasuke immediately. “There was no dog.”

Naruto snickered. “There was a dog. Some lady was walking it past here while me and Sasuke were sparring one day. There was a squirrel or something, I don’t know, and the dog took off. And Sasuke didn’t see it—”

“Naruto, I will kill you—”

“—and the dog came running straight at him, like straight at him, and he—mmph!”

Naruto was cut abruptly off as Sasuke slapped a hand over his mouth. But not even two seconds later, the Uchiha was ripping his hand away as if burned, face twisted up in disgust. “Did you just fucking lick me—”

Naruto stuck his tongue out, looking extremely satisfied, while Sasuke wiped his hand off on the blanket beneath him and glared.

“Nice match,” Itachi said to his brother. He raised an eyebrow. “Although, were ever planning on telling me you had a Rinnegan? Or that apparently getting it involved you being stabbed through the heart?”

Sasuke blinked at him. Then he turned accusing eyes on Kakashi.

The Six Hokage raised his hands defensively. “Don’t blame me! He’s been back for almost a week now. How was I supposed to know you still hadn’t told him, like, anything?”

Sasuke scowled. “It’s only been a few days. And for your information, I was actually beginning to tell him about the war yesterday when you barged into my apartment and interrupted us.”

“You’ve had plenty of time since then.”

The former nuke-nin opened his mouth to snap back again. Itachi interceded before it could turn into a full-blown argument and the original topic of conversation was lost, “Why don’t we just rectify that by telling me now, then? What’s happened these past five years?”

Kakashi and Sasuke turned away from each other to look at him. Naruto laughed and said with a grin, “Oh, where would we even start!”

They started at Sasuke’s appearance on the battlefield, completely turning the tide in the Alliance’s favor by recruiting all four of the previous Hokage to fight alongside them. Though they had to backtrack several times in their telling when Itachi interrupted with questions—such as how had the hidden villages ever agreed to call a truce with each other and form an alliance? How exactly had Sasuke and Orochimaru ended up fighting with Konoha, four dead shinobi powerhouses following their lead? And what did you mean the mysterious masked man hadn’t been Madara, but instead was actually—

“Obito Uchiha,” Itachi repeated in disbelief. “You mean my fourth cousin Obito Uchiha?”

“Uh…” Naruto’s forehead scrunched up uncertainly. “I don’t know, was he?” He looked at Sasuke for an answer.

“Yes,” Sasuke said.

Itachi tried to process this information. The masked man he had worked under while in the Akatsuki—who had helped him wipe out his clan—hadn’t actually been Madara Uchiha, as he had claimed. Truthfully, Itachi had already suspected it wasn’t his true identity. But he hadn’t had any clues on who he might’ve actually been.

Obito Uchiha, twelve-year-old war hero who had died when Itachi was four, whose funeral he only barely remembered attending, definitely wouldn’t have been anywhere on his suspects list.

“How did that happen?” he asked.

Naruto continued his recitation of events, explaining what had been discovered about Obito’s supposed ‘death’ during the Third Shinobi World War. Kakashi sat looking dully pained the whole time, the way one looked when someone picked at an old scar—the wound long healed, but the memory of it still aching.

Itachi didn’t interrupt again until they reached the part of the story where Sasuke made the (incredibly foolish) decision to go after the resurrected Madara by himself.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean you died?”

“It was only for a couple minutes,” Sasuke said, far too calm.

 Itachi stared at him.

“Seriously, Itachi. I was fine.”

He took a slow breath, still looking at his younger brother, then gave a reluctant hand motion for the story to continue.

Naruto and Sasuke went on to both explain the Sage of Six Paths—and how the two of them were, apparently, reincarnations of Ashura and Indra. Just as Hashirama and Madara had been before them. Sasuke let Naruto do most of the talking during this, the blonde’s explanations not making much sense—and judging by the expressions on his face and the rolling of his eyes as Naruto spoke, Itachi got the impression that Sasuke considered the claim he was a ‘reincarnation’ to be completely ridiculous.

“…And then, we sealed Kaguya away. Sasuke and I had a bit of a fight, but it worked out once I beat some sense into him. Together we broke the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and Sasuke returned home with us to the village! I didn’t even have to tie him up and drag him!”

Sasuke gave Naruto an irritated look at those last words. “Would you have?”

The jinchuuriki shrugged. “If I had to.”

Itachi’s head spun with the information he had just been given. He couldn’t properly process it all at the moment, but one sentiment came through crystal clear. He looked to Naruto across from him and gave the blonde man a smile.

“You kept your word,” said Itachi. “Thank you. For doing what I couldn’t. For bringing him home.”

Naruto grinned. “Of course! It’s my ninja way, after all!”

Sasuke’s expression was like a coded language. Complex and unreadable. Itachi had always been good at cracking written codes—but somehow, he felt his brother wouldn’t be one that was so easy to relearn.

★

That night, Itachi overheard Sasuke having a nightmare.

He was sitting in the main room of the apartment, occupying himself with a book after being unable to fall asleep. You could learn a lot about a person by the contents of their bookshelf—and Sasuke’s small collection of literature, riddled with revolutionist, anti-establishment themes, was certainly revealing if not exactly surprising.

Nothing that would have ever been found on thirteen-year-old Itachi’s bookshelf. But Itachi liked to believe he had changed since then, and could admit that differing perspectives could often be enlightening.

He didn’t hear the nightmare. No audible sounds of distress slipped out from beneath the bedroom door less than ten feet away. But he felt the instant disturbance in his brother’s chakra, an unnatural awareness of each other that seemed so obvious now that he was aware of the connection keeping his soul tethered.

Itachi glanced up from the words on the page. After a moment of uncertain hesitation, he set the book down on the couch cushion beside him and stood.

Itachi hadn’t been inside his brother’s room since coming to stay with him in his apartment. It had felt like a breach of privacy—still felt like one now, the bare walls and lack of any personal touches offering an insight into Sasuke’s head that Itachi didn’t think his brother would be comfortable with him observing. Still, he stepped inside, eyes adjusting almost immediately to the semi-dark room.

Sasuke was asleep in his bed. He wasn’t whimpering or crying, like he had as a small child when in the midst of a nightmare. There was no violent thrashing. But his expression was distressed, eyebrows scrunched up and eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids. Small, jerking movements and heavy breaths—

“Sasuke,” Itachi said. Very aware of the dangers of waking a shinobi from violent dreams, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and carefully reached out for his shoulder. “Sasuke. Hey. Wake up. You’re hav—”

Sasuke jerked awake, striking out blindly.

With reflexes that had been trained to perfection for years, Itachi blocked the blow that would have broken a lesser shinobi’s jaw. He caught the arm, twisting it and putting it in a lock that prevented it from striking out again.

“Sasuke. Look at me.”

Slowly, Sasuke’s clouded eyes focused on Itachi’s face.

“Hey. You’re okay. You were dreaming.”

It took a few moments for awareness to bleed into Sasuke’s expression. A few moments of his younger brother looking at him as if he were a hallucination, which Itachi supposed was to be expected. But his muscles relaxed beneath Itachi’s tight grip, and Itachi released his arm from the hold.

Sasuke pushed his bangs back from his sweat-slick forehead, rubbing at his arm. “Did you really have to grab my arm like that? It’s not meant to be bent that way, you know.”

“You’re the one that tried to break my jaw.”

“Then you shouldn’t have tried to wake me up.” He let his arm drop into his lap. “What are you even doing in here? Did I wake you up?”

Itachi shook his head. “No, I wasn’t sleeping. I felt that you were distressed.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Felt?”

“Your chakra. An effect of the two of us being linked, I suppose.”

His brother didn’t look too pleased by this. Itachi recalled yesterday after he got home, how it had been this exact topic of conversation that had resulted in Sasuke getting upset with him—though over a day later, he still couldn’t figure out what it was he had said.

Thinking it wise not to linger on the subject, Itachi asked, “Did you want to talk about it?”

“What? My nightmare?” At Itachi’s nod, Sasuke grimaced. “No, Not really. I’m fine now, so just don’t worry about it.”

Itachi bit the inside of his cheek. The words were a dismissal, but he lingered there perched on the edge of the mattress.

“But I do—worry about it. I worry about you.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. His hand clenched in the sheets over his lap. “Fine,” he said, looking up at Itachi. “You want me to talk about it? You want to know what I was dreaming about? The same thing I always do. You.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprising answer. But the bluntness of it, each word like a blade aimed with flawless precision, made something tighten in his chest.

“You’re always there,” Sasuke said. “You know that, right? Whether it’s you standing over their bodies… you stalking towards me to rip my eyes out… you laying dead on the ground… you’re always there. You’re in every nightmare I’ve ever had. Every single one.”

Itachi’s mouth was dry. He didn’t speak.

“And I tried to make it stop. I tried to make you leave me alone. I killed you, and it didn’t help. It just left me empty—empty and bleeding over everything, until it felt like I must have died too.”

There was heavy silence between them. Those words felt like the closest either of them had come to talking since Itachi’s return—truly talking, instead of tiptoeing around the real subjects like they were a grenade laid down in the space between them.

Itachi didn’t know what to say. The heart in his chest twisted at the words—further confirmation of what he had already known to be true. He shouldn’t be alive again. He didn’t deserve to be.

All he was doing was hurting his brother. That was all he had ever done.

“I’m sorry,” Itachi whispered.

Sasuke’s expression shuttered at the words, a shadow passing over his eyes.

“I know you are,” he said. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

The silence stretched. Neither of them said anything else, seated beside each other in the dark bedroom. Despite the mere five inches of space between them, Sasuke felt an entire world away—and Itachi wondered if things between them could ever be as they had been, or if some things were too broken to be fixed.