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tachi stumbled toward his little brother, the landscape wavering and blurring in front of him. Only Sasuke was clear, his black, bright eyes bending from hate to awe to hate again.
Good, that. It was important that his little brother hold on to some awe, even at the end. Sasuke’s face was like a perfect map of the generations of Uchiha, stretching back. Itachi could see his own parents there, his relatives, his cousins, his friends and his ancestors. It was all tied up in Sasuke now.
And Sasuke looked so young. For all his strength, all his drive, everything that Itachi had done to him…his eyes were still wide and so, so unseeing.
It was too soon. Itachi knew that. Sasuke wasn’t ready, and Madara was always waiting just out of sight, hovering like a vulture. But time was up. This would have to do.
His fingertips were numb when they bumped into Sasuke’s forehead. “Sorry Sasuke,” he heard himself say. “There won’t be a next time.”
He felt Sasuke jerk as he leaned his head against the stone. The jinchuuriki’s cocky face floated before him, so determined to kill him, so determined to see Sasuke again. Uzumaki Naruto. Strange, that Sasuke should have chosen someone like that.
The hard ground received him like a dream, all soft ridges and cool pressure against his back. All right, Naruto, he thought, sinking under. It’s up to you now.