The One

Together we stand — divided we fall.

When Sasuke met him again nine years later, Itachi said, “In your life, I am the barrier you must overcome.” He said — and immediately after this he smiled, warmly and innocently, as he always smiled when he wanted to show his goodwill. These words sounded so casual that Sasuke didn’t even pay attention to them. That day he saw his brother for the first time after he was transferred from the central squad back to Konoha. They did not settle him in his father’s house, he was assigned a room in a state-owned noka that sprawled on the outskirts, sparkling with a moss-green roof. The sun was bright, and cryptomeria’s lush branches were casting shadows onto the gallery. On the way here, Sasuke caught himself thinking that he didn’t know what to expect from this meeting. More than once he wondered why Itachi had returned when things were going very well for him at the service. His father spoke very vaguely and never publicly, and therefore gossip flared up here and there on the quarter streets, cramped like the tents of palanquins, fading after a day and breaking out again in the morning. They chatted about different things. Some said something about an accident, others — that, they say, the sin against the ninja code has been committed. Sasuke didn’t believe the rumors. But a single glance at the deserted road in front of the facade of an old peasant house was enough for him to understand that Itachi had returned for a reason. And he did not come back because of rest, which was mentioned in the documents marked with the stamp “sick leave” on his father’s desk. Many believed that this stamp was put just to distract the eyes. Sasuke wandered along the deserted road, thinking about what his brother he will see will look like. Anything could have happened to him in his head — up to the point that Itachi would have grown wings and a beak and he himself would have turned into one of the mythical tengu with which their mother used to scare them when they were children. When Sasuke came face to face with him again, he was even a little upset with how predictable faded reality turned out to be. Itachi was still the same; he hadn’t changed a bit. Before reaching the main gate, Sasuke noticed his figure on the gallery in front of the living room. The shoji were wide open, and the wind must have been blowing freely in the depths of the house. Itachi, dressed in a kimono with chrysanthemums, sat with his legs bent and squinted, putting his pale face to the sunlight. Sasuke brought him a yokan and a bunch of dried persimmons from home. They almost did not speak that day. Itachi was not particularly talkative at all, even before the service. And Sasuke also saw how the Uchiha’s attitude towards his brother changed, as soon as he returned here again. Sasuke did not want to fall under public judgement — he was the son of the head of the organization, Major General Fugaku, he should not catch sidelong glances at himself. But, no matter how prejudice the established state of affairs may seem, Sasuke could not not visit Itachi after so many years. He couldn’t, at least because they were connected with a common blood. They were sitting on the gallery, on both sides of the package with persimmons and yokan, and looked at the waste ground in front of them, where sometimes the shosei-boys ran. Sasuke was tempted to ask Itachi what had happened to him there, in the service, and why he does not want to refute the rumors, but recently he had learned to consider himself much higher than the idle curiosity. Now, at the age of not full seventeen years, he was a captain in one of the five battalions of the headquarters and he was preparing to take over the management of the main groups of the military police very soon. Years of training did not allow him to think about such mundane things. Whether he should be proud of it, he didn’t know yet. Itachi then asked him one thing only. “How’s work going?” Sasuke replied to him with something duty-typical, like that everything was as usual and he would soon be promoted to commander. And Itachi then added heartfelt: “You hate them too, don’t you?” Sasuke looked at him, then got up and walked away, feeling the gaze on his back. He really didn’t want Itachi to think he’d figured him out. Sasuke had been in his shadow for too long before his brother left. And he had already forgotten how to consider himself just a replacement for the avant-garde, in which Itachi was a key figure. He had forgotten how to constantly look up to someone to become even stronger later. The only trouble was that now, even years later, Itachi could still hit the most sensitive point of his soul with one question and split it like an arrow tears an apple, passing through it. Hated. He hated them very much. With the whole being. Every time he saw these fake smiles and grimaces, ridiculous as those of pompous bonzes, he suppressed the desire to shudder. His father celebrated the clan, they howled and agreed with him. Sasuke for him, as for them, was just an instrument of embodiment, a paraphernalia that promised to lead them to success. Sasuke used to think that Itachi was it for them before, but something happened — and Fugaku, who did not notice his younger son even a little bit, suddenly decided to resort to his help. Sasuke hated him for his hypocrisy. He hated, like he hated his own mother, who never said a word across and still traditionally treated his father politely. He hated everyone. But when he came to Itachi, he did not expect that he would ask him about it head-on. Then, leaving, Sasuke subsequently decided that maybe he would come back again, if the work allowed. Maybe he’ll try to find out from Itachi what he meant. Maybe he will make sure that he understood him correctly. A couple of days later, it turned out to be a day off. Sasuke went to the alley of cryptomeria, this time with a kamaboko roll, carefully prepared by his mother, who, in the absence of time and desire, could only express her smoldering love for her eldest son in this way. The landlady of the old house said that Itachi had gone to the dango shop on the next street. Sasuke shuffled his feet for a couple of seconds at the gallery, not knowing whether to go to the next street. In the end, he turned towards the home, but changed his mind at the last moment. “You always eat these dangos,” he told Itachi as soon as he approached. He was sitting at the back of the hall and cleaning with a skewer between his teeth. The hardened drops of mitarashi glistened on an empty plate. “Why?” Sasuke sat down at the table opposite him. Itachi usually was silent for a second, squinting his eyes, in which darkness lurked. “Dango is better than flowers”. Sasuke did not understand whether he heard this voice in reality or only in his head. Anyway, Itachi put down the skewer and unexpectedly replied: “I had to visit a lot of places during my service.” Sasuke raised his eyebrows, not thinking that he would respond at all. Then he began to ask furtively — simply because, except for work, they had nothing to talk about. Itachi answered neither more nor less than what he was asked about. Sasuke found out about the raids, which replaced each other so often that they were already getting boring. As soon as the squad had put down roots in one place, it was plucked and immediately moved to another location. It was always necessary to keep your stuff with you on the eve of moving. It always happened — the only thing that mattered was when. Itachi spoke slowly, with a voice without any obsession, and as Sasuke listened to his well-spoken words, some inexplicable confidence grew stronger in him. Itachi didn’t know the names. He changed so many partners and fellow servicemen that it became useless to remember even their faces from now on. All he could trust was a tiny island of peace and calmness in the ocean of continuous war. In any area where they stayed — whether it was a small town or a peasant settlement — if there was a dango shop in it, Itachi would go there as soon as he had the opportunity. The hostess appeared at their table and helpfully put a plate with another portion on it. Itachi always ordered the same thing. Beetroot and matcha tea. Even now they were on a plate. “Try it,” Itachi said. Sasuke took the one end of the skewer. The round mochi were still steaming, poured with a sauce that looked most like honey. Itachi looked at him indifferently, and Sasuke even thought that he didn’t care if brother would try the dango or not. So Sasuke decided to try. And — in fact — he didn’t feel any difference at all; the sweets turned out to be no better than the ones of the store which they used to visit after school when they were students. While Sasuke was eating, Itachi suddenly spoke — for the first time he spoke without waiting to be asked. “You’re planning your future, Uchiha Sasuke-chan,” he said, crossing his elbows on the table. “Imagining how you will rise up through the ranks and become a military commander, gain public support and finally marry the merchant’s daughter. But, you know, the sky is also gonna hurt you when it falls. So you’d better start building some walls around.” Sasuke chewed the sticky pastry thoughtfully. Itachi’s eyes were inscrutable. It suddenly became clear to Sasuke that the main question was unconsciously on the tip of his tongue during the whole conversation. It also became clear to him that as soon as he realized this, any need to ask this question disappeared, just as mirin dried up from mitarashi. Sasuke promised himself that he would definitely visit Itachi again. Another time, however, one more uninvited visitor was waiting for him at the house behind the planting of branchy cryptomeria. Uchiha Shisui was standing near the gallery, where Itachi was sitting on an old blanket as usual, and appeared to be just going to say goodbye to him. Sasuke approached his brother already when Shisui was far away. They didn’t even say hello to each other. Sasuke, who had a long shift today, was annoyed by every little thing that day. He was also annoyed by Shisui’s unexpected, completely impudent because of no warning occurrence. Itachi, even before the service, once introduced him to Sasuke as his “best friend”. Shisui in the quarter was called at one time “Shisui of the Body Flicker”. In Sasuke’s head, the nickname “Shisui-best friend” stuck for him, and he thought it suited him much more. Until now, Sasuke was, as he believed, the only one from the clan who did not hate visiting his brother in a new apartment. Their own parents — they even visited the cemetery to commemorate the dead relatives more often than their beloved eldest son in the noka. And then, out of the blue, his old “best friend” showed up and began to distract Itachi from communicating with him, Sasuke. Of course, it was not right. Nevertheless, Sasuke forced himself to endure a twinge of jealousy inside and greeted his brother as if nothing had happened. Itachi would most likely make fun of him if he knew at least a hundredth part of what flashed through Sasuke’s mind in a second before Shisui left. Preening himself, he only asked intentionally casually, nodding towards the street down which the “best friend” had gone: “What did he say?” “Nothing special. He said he had rats at home.” Itachi fidgeted on the blanket. For a moment it seemed to Sasuke that he had somehow given out his confusion, because right after Itachi immediately changed his tone and asked: “You’d better tell me something. How is it at the service?” Awful. Everything was awful at the service. The cards on the blackboard in the report room changed each other faster than the days in the calendar — and no one cared to check whether the instructions mentioned in them were being fulfilled at all. People did not obey. They twisted the words gotten from the first-hand experience. Confused themselves and others. His father didn’t give a single clear advice, either because he was busy or because he just didn’t know. Sasuke told Itachi about it, almost not hoping for understanding in response. He got it into his head that he would never be able to win the support of someone like his older brother. He used to think Itachi was too talented and ambitious. Ideally talented and ambitious. But even this did not help him to keep silence when what was said in one’s anger most likely would turn into a subject of regret after. “I swear to Kami,” said Sasuke, sitting on the gallery with his fists clenched on his knees, “sometimes I just want to kill them all.” Itachi turned his shaggy head towards him. “To kill?” Sasuke immediately stopped, realizing that he had not said exactly what was appropriate to say for the battalion commander and the future Head of the Military Police. “Well… destroy them,” he corrected himself. “Wipe them off the face of the earth. Not really, of course. I know it’s bad to wish someone else death, but…” “I understand you,” it suddenly sounded very close, and Sasuke felt something long forgotten moved somewhere at the very bottom of his consciousness. A lost memory that seemed to be reaching out to him from the distant past. Sasuke looked up uncomprehendingly. His gaze encountered the same one — the veil of senselessness, behind which he could not read anything before, seemed to light up from the inside. “What you are experiencing is completely normal. Once upon a time, I also felt the same way as you feel.” Sasuke turned away. The branches of cryptomeria swinged weakly in the wind. “Moreover, I feel that way even now,” Itachi continued. Sasuke looked at him sideways and tried to smile mockingly. “Is that the reason why you left the police?” “Who knows.” After that conversation, they saw each other almost every day. There was soon the beginning of the month, and together with it — the next clan meeting was coming, where everyone had to be there, both old and young. Sasuke, as the son of the Head, had to attend it in the first rows. To give a brief summary of the events of recent weeks, and then to listen to others, but for some reason, instead of preparing a speech, he slowly realized in himself the desire to leave the department and wander to the bamboo fence, behind which the green roof of the noka could be seen. A forgotten feeling awaked in him more and more often. More and more often, he recalled the time when his brother had not yet left the garrison for service, and forgot why, for some time, he began to see Itachi as a stranger at all. Itachi no longer seemed like a stranger to him. Beyond all expectations, now he seemed closer to Sasuke than anyone else. Sasuke himself didn’t understand why. The words of approval that he had spent his whole life trying to hear at least once from the lips of his father or mother — these words turned into nothing as soon as Itachi told him that not a single syllable in them was worth the hardships that Sasuke was headlong almost ready to dare. He hasn’t seen Shisui since. But even if he had, he would not have been particularly upset, because Itachi told him what — Sasuke was trying, but could not imagine in any way — he would not even tell his “best friend”. Itachi told him: “We are special siblings. You and I are bonded by something.” And then he told something that Sasuke remembered like this: if the oracle of ancient time had written a prediction about them on a turtle shell, this prediction would have meant that he and Itachi were destined to become one. Sasuke saw in this the echoes of some mystical predestination, in thought grinned and pretended that he did not believe it. Only later, returning home from Itachi, he thought about it with the same feeling with which the artist admired his masterpieces. They are special. They are bonded. They are one. And hardly anyone in this world would be able to understand them better than they understand each other. Sasuke also appeared more and more often on the deserted street in front of noka. Sometimes — if he had time — he visited Itachi even in the morning. They talked; they talked about many things: about politics. About history. About geography. About techniques. They remembered how they used to catch trepangs together in the pond behind the manor before leaving for service. Sasuke imagined that he had returned to that far gone back time, in which Itachi taught him to throw kunai and then carried him home on his back, because Sasuke was too hasty. Right now, he was also afraid to be hasty. Therefore, he tried to complain about his work and criticize his people with caution. But once he accidentally mentioned a plan for transformational reform, which he had been hatching for a long time, and Itachi unexpectedly expressed a desire to listen. Inspired by the attention, Sasuke began to talk and, without noticing it, became more and more inflamed. And while he was talking, he almost unconsciously caught the squinted and satisfied glances that Itachi sometimes gave him. Thus a month passed, and the day of the meeting came. This was the first meeting after Itachi’s arrival. Sasuke was a bit surprised as he knew that his brother was not going to go there. However, he did not try to reproach or persuade, remembering that Itachi always did what he thought was needed, and what he thought was needed, in the end, always turned out to be the only right thing. Sasuke went to the meeting, not seeing any benefit in it for himself. He stayed there for four hours, dryly declaimed what he had to declaim. The father barely nodded in support, while the others greeted the report with a poor burst of applause. Sasuke looked into their eyes and saw not his clansmen — only empty shells, their colorless thoughts. Perhaps he wouldn’t have dared to think of them like that before. But now, knowing that Itachi — Itachi! — understood him and accepted him as he was, Sasuke was convinced: everything he felt was natural; everything he suspected was wrong was wrong indeed; everything he wanted to change was changeable. And only a small effort was enough to undermine the hateful traditional foundations. Sasuke realized that he could do it if he wanted, but with the invisible presence of Itachi behind his shoulders, he felt much calmer. He courageously waited for the end of the reports. Shisui came out last. “Shisui-best friend”. Fiery highlights played on his face with cat-like eyes as Shisui stood up in front of everyone and start reading. “…and I consider it expedient to expand the territory of the Fourth building of combat pre-training by means of the waste ground adjoining to it from the southwest side,” the sheets rustled, and in the silence of the made pause even the air seemed unshakable. “As stages of redevelopment, a logging of cryptomeria is provided, as well as the demolition of peasant houses on the outskirts.” Fugaku, who was sitting in a niche in front of a Stone Tablet, nodded approvingly, without opening his heavy palms laid on his forearms. “A practical suggestion. We will put it to the vote tomorrow. Thank you, Shisui-san.” Sasuke raised his head. The complete absurdity of what was happening crashed into his consciousness faster than the need for that, what was called cold calculation. “Why on earth do you want to demolish houses on the outskirts?” He spoke, visibly, to the whole congregation, but at the same time looked only at Shisui. He blinked a little confused, and Sasuke thought vindictively that he was not ready for this question. This strengthened the confidence that had settled inside even further. “People are still living in peasant houses,” Sasuke pushed mercilessly. “Are you going to leave them without a roof over their heads?” Fugaku’s eyes angrily flicked to him; the dissatisfaction of the leader, who always followed the rules, slowly spread across his angular face, but Sasuke didn’t care. Shisui finally collected his thoughts together. “Temporary accommodation facilities can be organized. We will put the women and children in a hotel. There shouldn’t be too many of them.” Sasuke got up from the tatami. “In your opinion, the inhabitants of the outskirts are like sheeps on a pasture, so they can be driven around the quarter as you want?” Shisui opened his mouth in embarrassment, but before Sasuke, ready to honorably fend off any answer, heard at least a word from him, Fugaku sternly interrupted both of them. “That’s enough, Sasuke,” he growled, not changing his face for a second. “Sit back down. We heard you.” Sasuke reluctantly obeyed, although resentment was still bubbling in his chest, and an unpleasant tingling began under his eyelids. Shisui bowed his head, then continued, and as he continued, Sasuke looked around and met his father’s eyes. “Next time, try not to forget about respect”, they said. Fugaku was beside himself. Sasuke could have bet for a dozen of tempo-sen that at the end of the meeting his father would add something else threatening like “we will talk at home.” But did he see a threat in these words? No. All Sasuke thought about was an annoying confusion: what kind of respect was he supposed to mean? And what kind of respect did Fugaku try to talk about, if, looking at Shisui, Sasuke felt only a furious rage that boiled in him like sparks of chidori flashed on his fingertips. When the long meeting process finally reached its end, Sasuke did not stay to discuss the results. He didn’t even go up to his father to apologize for today’s misstep. At first, Sasuke caught up with Shisui at the temple gate and, without even asking his permission, took him off the road to one of toro lanterns, hidden in the early leaves of the paulownia. The dusk fell on the jinja, and the lantern stone, cut by rainwater, was illuminated by a drop of trembling flame. “What does that mean, Shisui?” Sasuke looked at Itachi’s best friend and smiled bitterly, seeing how quickly he transformed into the worst enemy. Kansyakudama, the “ball of anger”, rolled from side to side under his tongue. Shisui still didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?” “No need to play dumb with me. You want to reform the Fourth building — your will, but why to destroy the old houses? You know perfectly well that there are subdivisions’ apartments in the outlying buildings.” “Next year we will renovate them. No, we will build new ones. Our comrades-in-arms will have good housing.” “Our comrades-in-arms”?” Sasuke mocked. “Have you forgotten that Itachi is currently staying in one of the noka’s? How dare you call yourself his friend, if you don’t mind moving him out of his own home?” “I talked about it with Itachi,” Shisui suddenly confessed. “He said he would have nothing against.” Sasuke felt his nails sinked into the skin of his palms. “Nothing?” “Nothing.” Shisui stepped away. The wick of the lantern was burning out, and the shadows of the stones flickered on the earthy path. “To be honest, without him, I would not come up with the idea of reformation.” “So Itachi himself…Did he suggest it?” “No, not at all. He offered only to cut down the cryptomeria. He often complained that they blocked the light of the sun.” Itachi never said that cryptomeria disturbed him. “And after that you think you have the right to destroy his house?” Shisui looked at Sasuke with the caring sadness with which a nurse would persuade a madman to take his medication. “Sasuke, I understand that you are worried about your brother,” Shisui began, and Sasuke was forced to make a face alone because of his tone. “But Itachi is my friend, and he, just like me, puts the needs of the clan above all.” Sasuke felt hate. It flowed like a black matter through his veins. “Don’t call yourself Itachi’s friend if you’re ready to turn away from him right after he was transferred to reserve,” he hissed, feeling a burning sensation in his cornea. Shisui shook his head reproachfully. “Sasuke, you…” “In your desire to ennoble the clan, you go too far. You forget about the ordinary people on whom this clan holds. You are… craven.” Shisui didn’t answer. Then he folded his arms and suddenly laughed. Having finished laughing, he said that Sasuke was blowing too much into the clam, that is, he was exaggerating. There was no malicious intent against ordinary people in Shisui’s efforts. Sasuke didn’t like being ridiculed. And moreover, he did not think that Shisui had the right to treat in this way someone who was above him in the official hierarchy. Even if Itachi took him for his best friend. Then, near the lantern on the territory of the Naka-shrine, Sasuke punched Itachi’s best friend. And, without waiting for him to get over again after this hit, turning him around, he added bitterly: “You feel so important just because Itachi once called you his friend. In fact, none of you deserves to be called that. All of you are just miserable worms wriggling around the tokonoma of the clan’s welfare.” Shisui didn’t say anything. He must have realized that Sasuke believed what he was telling. And Sasuke always told the truth. Since Itachi moved back, Shisui has only seen him once on business. Only Sasuke really appreciated Itachi, and did not use his experience to validate himself among his clansmen. Only Sasuke, one of all the Uchiha, constantly visited him. He asked about his well-being and did not close his eyes to Itachi’s existence, as if after returning to the village he turned into a good-for-nothing cripple. Only Sasuke didn’t forget about him. And only Sasuke really understood him. They were bonded. They were one. That night Sasuke didn’t return home — the conversation with father was waiting for him there. Rashly jumping, he reached the outskirts of the street; he got through the waste ground to the veranda — there was not a soul on the gallery, and the shoji doors were open. Cicadas sang in the night. Sasuke called his brother by name. No one responded. Then Sasuke went out into the living room. “Itachi-nii-san?” There were embers burning in hibachi on the floor; Itachi warmed himself near them and read. When the late guest appeared, he turned his head to him in a puzzled manner. “Sasuke?..” Sasuke walked across the room without taking off his shoes. He rounded the oven and sat on his heels in front of his brother. “Do you know that they want to destroy this house?” Amazement flashed on Itachi’s face, hardly discernible in the hanging semidarkness, but Sasuke told himself that there was nothing strange about it. “I have long suspected that our father threw you out for a reason.” “Sasuke…” “But that he finally will have spitted on you and accepted the suggestion of this Shisui,” of your best friend, your best friend. Sasuke took a long swig of the itchy air, “…I couldn’t keep silent.” Itachi didn’t say anything in response. He just put down the book and pointed with his palm at the muslin zabuton beside him. Sasuke obediently sat over and continued: “They dream of expansion. They want to rise above the village and think only about their own well-being. They don’t listen to the voices of ordinary people.” “That’s why I hate them all so much.” Sasuke didn’t say it out loud, but he was sure Itachi would understand him even without words. “You will be a good leader, Sasuke,” he replied a little later. “A head who thinks about everyone deserves respect.” Sasuke lifted his chin. He felt that one more second — and everything inside would start to flutter from this praise, as if he was in a fever before a battle. “And Shisui… I really didn’t expect this from him,” he began carefully, self-sufficiently pretending that he hadn’t heard his brother’s warm words. “In order to curry favor before our father, he is happy to forget about your friendship.” “Shisui, like our father, stands up for the clan,” Itachi confirmed. “This is wrong.” There are different ways to transform authority for the better. It is not necessary to demolish houses and cut down cryptomeria to this aim. Sasuke regretted for a second that he had not said this at the meeting. Therefore, instead of scolding himself, he turned his grudge to those who, as he thought, deserved it most of all. “Shisui… betrays you. Your father betrays you.” “The whole clan you’ve devoted so much effort to betrays you.” Sasuke didn’t say that. He understood that Itachi knew it anyway. “What do you feel?” asked Itachi, and Sasuke rejoiced this question like a sip of water after a hard workout. “I’m full of anger. They are too unfair to you. I want them not to forget who you are.” “Oh, Sasuke. After all, this is unavoidable. Society works like a well-coordinated mechanism, and if one toothed wheel in it is broken, it will be just replaced with a new one.” “This is wrong,” Sasuke repeated helplessly. “Wrong. I must…” Itachi slowly raised his hand. He grabbed Sasuke by his shoulders and pulled to himself. Sasuke’s nose was buried in the white collar of his undershirt. “Sasuke, life is full of injustice. Today you help the clan, and tomorrow the clan no longer remembers who you are.” “Why don’t you tell them?.. Because I know you can.” “A stone flying into a pond makes waves and leaves circles on the water. But, sinking to the bottom, disappears from the eyes, and the circles — no matter how wide they may be — vanish in ripples.” Itachi looked down at his brother. Sasuke clung close to him and felt nothing around except the sound of the heart, which was pumped by the same blood as in himself. “All things pass, Sasuke-chan. There is nothing we can change.” Sasuke gritted his teeth. Nothing. Nothing at all. He couldn’t understand why Itachi came to terms with it so easily. “Are you still angry, Sasuke?” “Yes,” Sasuke did not hide it. He felt his brother’s palm sliding through his hair. “That’s how it should be.” “I…” Sasuke looked up. Itachi stared at something over his head, and Sasuke thought under the curtain of shadows that he saw the world beyond there. “Today, in a conversation with Shisui, I almost activated sharingan.” Itachi closed his eyes, and Sasuke could not read either approval nor judgment in them. “Sometimes it seems to me that my body is rebelling against them. I’m starting to worry…” “No need, Sasuke-chan. Everything is fine. Sooner or later, darkness speaks in everyone.” Sasuke asked him what darkness was and whether he should be afraid of it. Darkness is a part of you, Itachi replied. It makes no sense to reject it when you can learn to coexist with it in harmony. “There’s darkness in me too,” Itachi told him. “It’s the same as yours, because we…” Sasuke shut his eyes. He whispered in thoughts what his brother’s voice echoed deep in his mind. We are bonded. We are special. We are one. When Sasuke opened his eyes again, he saw Itachi right in front of him. Hands reached for his face by themselves. We are not like them, Itachi said. We are much higher than all of them. Our bonds are what gives us strength. Our strength is in our blood. Our love… is God. Sasuke kissed his brother, as if he was in oblivion. They were not understood. They were reproached and forced to obey. They were made to suffer by doing what they were not born to do. They could crush the worlds. They could destroy Konoha to the ground and rebuild their own empire in its place. They could cause the death of everyone in this universe. But they won’t. Their love is God. The coals in the brazier have burnt, and it became colder in the room. In the bucket in front of the window, the stems of water onions were swaying forlornly, through which the chrysanthemums stalks sprouted. Sasuke didn’t feel cold. He only saw Itachi. He only wanted to be with Itachi. Only Itachi understood his being. Only Itachi… Sasuke realized that he would never be able to imagine a life without his brother. But the life in which he did not love his brother seemed even more unreal to him. Itachi pulled away, and Sasuke deliriously touched with his fingers over his lips, burnt by his flaming breath. The air behind him stirred, the muslin of the pillows creaked — and Sasuke felt his brother behind his back, shuddering when he printed a kiss on his neck. Something about this seemed wrong to Sasuke, but he remembered Itachi’s words. The circles on the water disappear as soon as the stone sinks to the bottom. They were surrounded by so many wrong things that it would be blasphemy to blame only themselves for this. Looking at the yellow circle of the moon that shed its light through the open shoji of the veranda, Sasuke muttered: “I… I hit Shisui.” No powers would have forced him to say that at any other time. Itachi, sliding his lips along the skin by his jugular veins, sighed weightlessly, but did not stop. “Not very polite,” he remarked. Sasuke nodded. Every touch of Itachi made him shiver, and he couldn’t do anything with it. He would like to seem not so pliant for his brother. And he hated the sensitivity of the chakra, which was inherited by both of them together with the power of the eyes. “Yes. Now I think it was unnecessary.” “In that case, why don’t you apologize to him?” Itachi’s voice sounded right next to his ear. Sasuke stood still undecided. “I do not know…” He hesitated. Itachi wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging him tighter, and said: “If you want, we can go to Shisui together.” Together. This word echoed in his head like a gong sign. How many years has it been since the last time they went out and did something together? Sasuke didn’t remember. And until now, he lacked the courage to suggest to Itachi just to go out somewhere to spend time with him. Momentary agreement was drowned in a noisy sigh of bliss. The next morning Sasuke woke up at Itachi’s house. Hastily dressed, washed his face from chozubachi. They had breakfast in complete silence and, going out on the porch, walked down the street past the cryptomeria plantings. Shisui lived on the corner. As soon as he opened the door, Sasuke repeated to himself “best friend” and fell to his knees, putting his forehead to the ground. “Please excuse my recent rudeness, Shisui-san. I realize that I was wrong, and I pray for forgiveness.” Shisui laughed indistinctly, as if he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “Come on, come on, I’ve already forgiven you. There was no need to kneel at my feet at all.” Sasuke couldn’t see Itachi, but he felt his silent presence behind him. Shisui chirped something hospitable, constantly squinting his eyes on the cat’s face. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, Itachi-san. Thanks for coming. Would you like to break for tea? Though I haven’t tidied up — rats annoy all the time, God damn them.” Itachi was not averse to coming for tea, even despite the fact they had just eaten. Sasuke frowned, but when Shisui called them into the house, with feigned indifference went up on the genkan step after his brother. “Best friend,” he told himself in thoughts. A “best friend” is not someone Itachi could love as much as his younger brother. The “best friend” is just an omamori, about whose purpose you forget as soon as you tear it off and return to the temple. Shisui’s house smelled musty and there were tubs piled up all around, which looked like rice bowls. “Don’t pay attention,” Shisui said, walking into the kitchen. “It’s all because of the rats.” Itachi perched behind zen table, not without interest looking around. Sasuke saw in this look the imprint of the skill that he had to use during the service, but chose not to pay attention to this. The tub for rats towered even on a low table — Shisui probably had no time to remove it yet. “There is no peace at all with these creatures, as if I’d rather get a cat,” he continued to talk about the same thing, because, obviously, was not ready for the unexpected visit of the brothers and did not know what else to say. Sasuke, hardly suppressing a tired sigh, sat down next to Itachi. Shisui started to bustle, heating the hettle and alternately turning to the guests from one and from the other shoulder. “They say there is a 'rat king' among the rats,” Shisui told. “In a simple way, the leader they obey. Without him, a pack of rats is like without a head.” The kettle whistled, and he hurriedly turned off the gas. “So after all, I’ve been getting rid of this leader for a whole week, and everything is still for nothing. Have poisoned either way, have tried so many methods…” “Killed?” Itachi asked. “Eh?” “Have you killed the rat king, I say?” Shisui laughed again. Sasuke noticed that he generally laughed a lot when it wasn’t necessary, as if with laughing he wanted to smooth the awkwardness. “Oh, if only! That skunk is so resilient, no poison helps.” Shisui put the chawan-cups on the table. “Is the poison at least good?” Itachi busily turned the tub around the axis. It was outwardly somewhat similar with the medicinal tinctures that were served in the village hospital — a tightly sealed lid was crowned with a tag with the kanji “rat poison” on it. “Very good, top class,” Shisui took out a tea tisane and began to pour it with boiling water so that it would infuse. “A mixture of high-end poisons, specially ordered from the iryohan. It doesn’t even smell.” Sasuke frowned, when Itachi masterfully removed the lid and poured the contents of the tub directly into one of the chavans. Then he brought the bowl to his lips, sniffed and did not even wrinkle — Sasuke decided that Shisui told them the truth. “…the poison is very effective, dissolves in the blood instantly, even a match won’t burn til the end,” he said meanwhile, brewing tea. “But death is quick and almost painless.” When the tea was ready, Shisui approached the table and, seeing that there were only two empty cups on it, looked questioningly at Sasuke. “You won’t?” Sasuke shook his head. Shisui shrugged his shoulders and poured tea into the remaining chawan. Then he went to put the teapot back, and when he returned and took the bowl, Sasuke caught himself thinking that he was no longer sure whether it was a bowl with tea or poison. Itachi’s face was emotionless, like that of a meditating monk, but, looking at the zen surface, Sasuke smelled that there was a subtle aroma of bancha rising from the bowl where the chawan filled with poison stood before. Shisui raised the cup. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” Sasuke watched numbly as Shisui brought the bowl to his mouth. Sasuke did not tell him anything, although he knew that Shisui would drink no tea. For Sasuke, Shisui was nothing more than just the “best friend” of his older brother. Sasuke couldn’t claim for sure yet if he would like to see his brother next to him. And he didn’t say anything. Their love was divine. It was beyond even the influence of “best friends”. Shisui took a sip and coughed. Clutching his throat, he jumped up from the table and almost immediately fell dead. When Shisui’s corpse sprawled on the floor, Sasuke felt sick, although people had been killed more than once in front of his eyes. That morning, Itachi sent him home, saying that he would deal with the consequences himself. Sasuke, who did not want to seem weak in any case, found the will to obey unusually quickly. He walked to the manor on jelly legs and spent the whole weekend on a futon, wrapped in a blanket. What exactly Itachi did with Shisui’s body and how he arranged his death, Sasuke did not know and, without lying, did not want to find out. But when he came to the police station the next day, he was forced to read a new announcement in the list of tasks on the agenda. Uchiha Shisui, the commander of the eighth battalion, committed suicide on the third day of this month. In his suicide note, he mentioned that “he did not find understanding in this cruel world and therefore leaves it without regret.” The reformation project of the Fourth building was immediately postponed for an indefinite time due to this unforeseen circumstance. Sasuke didn’t go to Shisui’s funeral. He also didn’t hear about whether Itachi was on them. For several nights in a row, he slept restlessly and in a dream he saw Shisui, who was sitting at the table in front of him and did nothing but drink rat poison cup by cup and say, “Thank you for stopping by.” Sometimes Shisui bent his neck unnaturally and smiled: “Come on. There was no need to kneel at my feet at all.” Sasuke woke up in a cold sweat. For a long time he peered into the blackness behind the bed headboard, as if he expected to see Shisui’s ghost there at any moment. Sometimes visions from dreams did not disappear, and then Sasuke folded his hands and tried to pray. It didn’t work very well, because his parents brought him up from his cradle to be a future officer, not a temple novice. Sasuke did not know a single prayer and instead of words he only repeated, as if in delirium: “Forgive me, Shisui-san, forgive me, Shisui-san. Namuamidabutsu”. It was as if he hoped that by doing this he would be able to atone for his sin, and then the deceased Shisui would certainly hear how he repented, and in fact forgive him. However, Sasuke felt no remorse. And the dead people hardly know how to hear the living and — much less — how to forgive them. Sasuke began to visit Itachi less often. As now there were less servicemen in the state, the amount of work increased, and Sasuke disappeared from morning to night at the police station or on patrol. There was simply no time for Itachi. However, the image of him in Sasuke’s head for some reason grew a winged halo and became similar to a black-beaked karasu-tengu. Sasuke didn’t feel that he was afraid yet, because he believed that Shisui just accidentally took the wrong chawan. But despite this, Sasuke could no longer force himself to walk up the street to the outskirts of the quarter with the same carelessness. However, the ghost of Shisui, who appeared to him in his dreams, still tormented him. Not knowing how to deal with this insanity, Sasuke took a day off from work and, taking rice cakes from home, went to the old noka. He had not even reached the porch yet, when the chakra began to fluctuate, pointing to someone’s presence. It turned out that today the deserted street was not so deserted. When Sasuke came up to an alley of cryptomeria, he saw a dark-haired girl between the trees. She was leaning against the branches and seemed to be looking into the courtyard of the farmhouse, but as soon as Sasuke approached, she hurriedly disappeared. Sasuke indifferently passed by and, rounding the corner of the nock, turned to the gallery. He thought he knew this girl, but he remembered too vaguely who she was. Itachi, as always, sat on the engawa on the blanket and with the serenity of a yogi threw pieces of boiled egg on the sand in front of him. Crows flew to the egg at the feeding hour; they smoothly circled and cawed loudly, and then they lowered to the ground and jumped like sparrows, looking for food in the dust. Itachi seemed to be so engrossed in this scene that he didn’t even notice the visitor. Sasuke called his brother out and, climbing up to the gallery, sat down on the blanket next to him. “You haven’t been here for a long time,” Itachi remarked and, breaking off another piece from the egg, threw it at his feet. One of the crows immediately jumped closer and, grabbing it in his beak, dragged him to his supplies. Sasuke tilted his head, crunching his neck vertebrae. “Work,” was all he said. Then he looked around and added: “Wanna hear some news?” Itachi turned an impassive gaze on him. “You tell”. “It turns out that you are being watched now”. Two young crows on the sand did not share the egg yolk and jumped up to each other in hostility, ready to start a fight. Itachi smirked. “I know. This is Izumi.” Sasuke raised his eyebrows. “Izumi? That one?” “Yes, my old school classmate.” Sasuke pulled his head away, rubbing the hair on the back of his head up. He hoped that this way Itachi wouldn’t read the irritation on his face. Unlike “Shisui-best friend”, Itachi introduced Izumi to no one. As Sasuke found out later, she introduced herself to his parents as Izumi-nakama-of-Itachi. But Sasuke would much rather prefer to call her “otafuku”. At the first acquaintance, it seemed to him that Izumi’s cheeks were too swollen and the slits of her narrow eyes were emphasized with joy. “I think she was in love with you,” he recalled, not without disdain. He was surprised and a little angry by this shinjumono performance under Itachi’s windows. “Best friend” at first, then “otafuku”. Who else would certainly consider it their duty to come to his house, although hitherto diligently pretended that Itachi had not existed in the clan since he was transferred back to Konoha? Maybe, even their own father? “After Shisui died, Izumi started coming here every day,” Itachi said thoughtfully. “She must have decided that his death broke my heart and now she has to help me.” Sasuke couldn’t stand it and made a contemptuous face. If only Izumi knew… However, people like her have never been distinguished by anything special. The most outstanding of their advantages were usually chicken brains. A mocking caw sounded. The crows clashed in a duel, flapping their wings with a dull rustle. Itachi raised his head and called them summoningly. “Kanko-Kanko.” Although his tone sounded restrained, Sasuke clearly caught the eye as a military carriage slipped in Itachi’s movement. He didn’t call. He commanded. The fighting crows immediately interrupted the fight and scattered to the sides. The remains of the egg were pecked, and Itachi, without getting up from the blanket, dispersed the flock of birds with a wave of his hand. Then he shook the hakama off from the shells and rested his fists on his knees. “What do you want to do with Izumi?” Sasuke asked him. Deep in his soul, he hoped that Itachi would not think of giving Izumi even a minute of his time. Deep in his heart, he hoped that something similar to what Shisui died from would happen to Izumi. He tensed a little when he realized the cruelty of this thought, but immediately calmed himself down. Itachi told him that it was normal. He and Itachi are above them all. Their love is God. Of course, Itachi won’t care about Izumi. After all, he only really loved Sasuke. In any case, Sasuke tried to believe it. “With Izumi? Nothing,” Sasuke concerned, as he didn’t hear anything in this answer that would give him relief, and Itachi probably noticed it. “What is? You seem to be jealous.” “No.” Sasuke turned away. His face felt hot against his will. Itachi put his hand on his shoulders and got him closer, as in childhood, when Sasuke played with him on the gallery in the evenings. He remembered that on one of these evenings Itachi’s eyes turned red. Then the mysterious pattern on them seemed very beautiful to Sasuke. He leaned forward, just as he had when he was a child, hanging over his brother’s knees. He was slightly surprised to see that Itachi’s eyes were also red today. Red, and the pattern on them looked completely different. “You have nothing to worry about, Sasuke. I don’t need anyone but you.” Holding Sasuke’s head under the back of his head, Itachi bent down and kissed him on the lips. “But if you want to hate, just hate.” Sasuke has understood long ago that there is no need to be afraid of the darkness inside. And if it tried to get out, it was necessary to open the gates and let it go free. However… Remembering what his hate for Shisui had led him to, he could not give free rein to the darkness inside of himself. Sasuke moved clumsily. Itachi looked at him from under lowered eyelashes; his gaze was hazy, and at the same time — extremely clear, what Sasuke, no matter how hard he tried, could not explain to himself. Then he sat up, still savoring the remaining warmth of one other on his lips. Itachi released him out of his hug, letting him sit on the blanket nearby. “Does something bother you?” he asked. Sasuke wavered. He could have lied or simply kept silent, but he understood that since he started visiting his brother, there was no point in hiding anything from him. Itachi wouldn’t have asked for anything anyway — he didn’t need it. Everything Sasuke wanted to know, he wanted to know only for himself. He came here for the same purpose. “Sometimes Shisui’s ghost comes to me at night.” Sasuke was hoping that Itachi would calm him down this time too and tell him that everything was alright and it was par for the course, but Itachi, to his surprise, did not say anything like that. “What does he want from you?” “Nothing. He just sits down, drinks the poison and thanks for the visit.” “Hmm,” Itachi thought. “Perhaps it’s your conscience speaking in you.” “Conscience?” Sasuke didn’t know exactly what it was. It always seemed to him that conscience was some unknown concept from religious teachings. “Conscience is a product of rejecting light,” Itachi explained. “Your soul resists the darkness, and the principles — both light and darkness — rage and collide inside you.” “What should I do?” “Accept what happened. What did Shisui’s death cause?” Sasuke paused, remembering the fuss of the past days at the service. They did not reorganize the Fourth building. Yakumi, after the incident, thought about the mental state of the servicemen; it was decided to pay more attention to general psychological health. Sasuke also did not exclude the fact that this event a bit sobered up the clan members. Maybe, at least after that, they will think more about each other and less about the greatness of Uchiha. Oh, and Shisui’s house, inhabited by rats, was donated to the needs of a local charitable foundation. “Until you learn to see the good in everything, you will never get rid of this scourge,” Itachi said, which made Sasuke think that he had just interfered in his thoughts. After dispelling their flow in his mind, Sasuke mentally asked his brother if he grieved for Shisui. Silence rang out in response to him at first, and after a second it rumbled, and a hoarse croak whistled into his ears. Itachi had never heard of Shisui. Sasuke has always been more precious to him than anyone in the world. Their love is the deity. Sasuke shook himself and looked at his brother. Itachi, squinting, looked ahead, and the jagged shadows of the branches laid on his forehead. Sasuke remembered what else he wanted to ask him. “Are you really disturbed by cryptomeria?” Itachi closed his eyes, resting his palms on the engawa flooring. “In the rainy season, they protect well from the bad weather.” Sasuke nodded and smiled for some reason. Something in him hit the very bottom of his spiritual vessel and, bouncing off, rattled that the heaviness pressing inside had finally gone. Sasuke was somehow sure that from now on Shisui wouldn’t appear in his dreams anymore. They sat in the sun and were silent, and watched the view of the waste ground, through which sometimes the boys scurried. There was a knock at the back of the house; a few thuds were replaced by bustle and cheeky voices, whose tone most resembled the rude speech of drunkards. “…Hey, mistress! We need to see your freeloader!” Sasuke heard snatches of this speech. “Are you deaf there, since you can’t hear that someone has come?.. Open up!” Itachi jerked around and shouted back: “Stop yelling. The mistress is not at home.” The voices became quieter and more indistinct. However, a little later Sasuke made out some words again, which were interspersed with loud laughter. “Hey, Tekka-kun, look: the dependent yapped!” “It’s bad to sleep until noon, Itachi! It’s time to change the water of the chrysanthemums.” “Come out, or have you forgotten that it is polite to meet guests at the threshold?” Sasuke silently watched Itachi get up and go into the hall. A wind gust rustled through the branches of the trees, and Sasuke’s sharingan vision discerned how something darted between the plantings. Probably, “otafuku” decided to continue surveillance at the front door. Sasuke snorted. If that’s the case, then he shouldn’t stay here either. Kicking off his shoes, he stood on the gallery and walked into the living room. Before he reached the front hall, he saw his brother sitting on the genkan step and resting his hands on his knees. Besides the open door on the uncovered doma in front of him the faithful followers of the clan heritage stood: Yashiro, Inabi and Tekka. Their appearance was not the most peaceful, and, coupled with the fraternising shouts sounded earlier, did not leave one to expect that the guests had come here with good intentions. Feeling the bitterness of indignation rising to his throat, Sasuke stopped in the shadow of fusuma and listened. It couldn’t be that Shisui committed suicide voluntarily. He was deeply loyal to the clan, he would rather sacrifice himself for it than selfishly take his own life. And the handwriting in the suicide note could easily be faked with a sharingan. That’s what they thought. Itachi was the only one who didn’t come to the clan meeting that day. He was also absent from the funeral. The place of death looked strikingly clean, so clean that doubt crept into their heads. Now they suspected Itachi. He was Shisui’s best friend. He was a genjutsu master. It was in his power to arrange the incident so that everyone would unanimously accept the legend of suicide. But they are not everyone. They didn’t believe in this legend. And they wanted to know what really happened that day. Sasuke was all ears. In an effort not to miss a single word, he leaned forward so much that the hair on the sides of his forehead touched the paper on the shoji. “I didn’t kill him.” Sasuke felt a drop of sweat roll down his temple and fall onto the mat. “Do you think we didn’t hear that on the meeting day you were hanging around we don’t know where?” Yashiro persisted. “I was removed from my position,” Itachi reminded him dryly. “I don’t have to come to meetings anymore.” “The murder happened the next day,” Inabi barked. “Who else could have prepared it if the whole clan gathered in Naka?” “I didn’t kill him.” “You’re lying, Itachi-kun! Leave your tricks for Morino’s torture.” Sasuke gritted his teeth. What right do they have… no. No, he couldn’t blame them. But to hear such blanket, almost ridiculous accusations against a brother… a beloved brother who really wasn’t guilty. Shisui just took the wrong chawan. It happened by accident. If anyone was to blame, it was Sasuke. Itachi had nothing to do with it. They were attacking him all together, slander vying with each other. “Just confess it, you bastard!” “If you don’t, you’ll rot in prison with your eyes plucked out!” “You will answer for all of your sins before Shisui and the clan!” Sasuke shuddered. Because of the pale light that streamed through the doorway by the porch, he could only see the outlines of shadows on shoji. He saw Inabi’s shadow: he stepped up to genkan and grabbed his brother by the collar of his kimono. In response, Itachi’s shadow swiftly rushed towards him. Sasuke opened the door and jumped onto the step. Itachi stood surrounded by his clansmen and looked at them with eyes that were red either because of the blood, or under the influence of dojutsu. Wild rage burned in these eyes. Itachi stepped forward and, grabbing Inabi by the throat, lifted him off the floor. At that moment Sasuke realized that his brother could kill. And Sasuke had no doubt that there was no one as talented as him in the art of killing. Yashiro and Tekka froze like stone idols at a fork in the road, and their mouths gaped in shock. Inabi began to squirm in panic under Itachi’s fingers, but suddenly was flabbergasted, and Sasuke understood that he saw his eyes. “M-mangekyou…” Inabi croaked, clutching in deathly horror at Itachi’s hand that was squeezing his neck. Yashiro and Tekka gasped at the same time. They were possibly taught at lectures about the history of the clan: in order to awaken the mangekyo sharingan, it was necessary to do something inhuman, but Sasuke forgot what exactly. “Nii-san!” There was a dead silence in genkan. Itachi stopped and lowered his hand. Inabi coughed violently, with eyes wide in fright and still holding his hands to his throat. He should have realized that he would not have escaped a sad fate, if Sasuke had not intervened, but there was not a shadow of gratitude in his face — only an unaccountable fear that mixed with poisonous prejudice. “Demon…” Inabi exhaled when he could catch his breath. “O… O-kaburo!” Itachi was silent. Sasuke stepped out onto the genkan. Yashiro and Tekka looked at him haughtily, but did not say anything, remembering the subordination. But Inabi, in a moment of savage fear, seemed to have forgotten where he was. “How do you talk to the son of the Head of the Military Police?” Sasuke bellowed at him. “I don’t care whose son he is,” Inabi hissed, straightening up again. Itachi stood silently in front of him, and the light from the street gilded the embroidered pattern of chrysanthemums on the bottom of his kimono. “While Itachi is killing our comrades, his honor and name mean nothing.” Tekka nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Now apologize, Itachi. What you did to Inabi entrenches further our suspicions.” Itachi bowed his head. “I’m sorry.” “You’d rather apologize on your knees!” Inabi screamed. Sasuke grinned; no, he couldn’t let his brother experience such humiliation. Stepping off the step, he stopped next to Itachi. “That’s enough. Get out of here. Itachi is not to blame for anything.” Yashiro leered contemptuously. “Are you protecting him because he is your brother? Or is it because wakashu will never betray a samurai?” Sasuke was petrified. What he had once feared at the very beginning, and what had almost disappeared in the mist of their deep oneness with Itachi, rose again from the ashes and burned with the flame of truth. No matter how hard Sasuke tried to hide his connection with Itachi, rumors about it will still go around the village. And if they reach the father… Sasuke refused to imagine what would happen then. “Fugaku-sama did it right by evicting you to the outskirts,” Tekka spat, looking at Itachi and walking away to the door. “Such a scam like you should be banished.” Inabi, twitching with his whole body, followed him. “W-we will find the evidence,” he promised, stuttering. “You’ll regret what you did, you damned demon.” Yashiro was the last who leaved the threshold. “And you, Sasuke-san, should not lick the drops from chrysanthemums so often,” he did not neglect to quip at last. “Who knows, when a talk might happen.” Sasuke felt his throat tickled by sparks of flame that were dashing outwards. Clenching his fists, he stepped impetuously towards the door. “Repeat what you said, you scoundrel!” Itachi took his wrist. The gate closed with a bang as soon as all three visitors disappeared into the deserted street. “Leave them, Sasuke,” Itachi said softly. Sasuke turned to him in helpless despair. They knew that he had come here. They understood that he wanted to see Itachi for a reason. And they compared him to wakashu. For him, as for the future leader of the clan, it was too insulting. But it was even more insulting for their with Itachi connection, which seemed to him godlike. “They suspect you…” muttered Sasuke. “They suspect us… We have to deal with them!” “Now they behave fearlessly, because they are confident in their rightness.” Itachi ascended the step. “But even a dead dragon can be brought back to life by scalding it with boiling water.” “We have to make them afraid of us,” Sasuke said, following his brother into the house. Then none of these three will dare to open their mouths to sow at least one dirty rumor about them two. Itachi smiled, squinting at Sasuke from behind his shoulder. “That’s right.” They went back into the living room. Itachi sat down on the zabuton, and Sasuke laid his head on his lap. Itachi was fingering his hair and telling him. Sometimes Sasuke moved and muttered something in reply. Then it seemed to him that Itachi was talking to him in the same manner as he himself treated suspects during interrogations. Sasuke quickly stopped thinking about it, believing that the costs of the profession were still alive in his brother. Sometimes Sasuke also forgot to leave the language of the service while talking with civilians. Itachi’s voice was lulling. Sasuke eagerly listened to every word. Who killed Shisui? Shisui was killed by poison. Why did Tekka, Yashiro and Inabi suspect Itachi? Because Shisui was his best friend. What could Sasuke do to help his brother? Well, literally anything. He was ready to tear them to shreds. He hated them. He wanted them dead. No one dared to encroach on the honor and dignity of his older brother. All of them, taken together, were not worth a single hair on his head. Sasuke unconsciously thought that if Itachi had ordered him to kill Tekka, Yashiro and Inabi, he would have done it without any hesitation. But Itachi only smiled when Sasuke, who had told him about it, sat up and passionately began tapping his fists on tsumugi on his thighs. He hurried too much, Itachi said. Murder is an extreme measure. To begin with, it would be enough just to scare them. “I have a plan,” Itachi bowed his head, and Sasuke saw for the first time how his eyes, usually drab and lifeless, lit up with a scarcely perceptible shine. “But I can only realize it, if you help me.” You’re going to help, aren’t you, Sasuke? You love me, don’t you? Won’t you leave me alone? Of course, Sasuke will help. He loves Itachi more than life. He will never leave him. He would do anything for him. He will not allow these miserable trashes to offend his brother and compare him with ugly youkai; he will not allow them to belittle the majestic sanctity of their love. These worthless rubbishes have never understood them. They are nobody. His and Itachi’s love is everything. Itachi caressed his head, and Sasuke thrilled under his gentle fingers. And then he already reached for his brother’s face to find his lips with his own. Shisui no longer disturbed him in his dreams. And Sasuke stopped experiencing discomfort, reaching the outskirts of the quarter. Sometimes he wanted purposely to go out to a deserted road at the busiest time, so that as many people as possible would notice him. So that, blushing up to her ears, an ashamed “otafuku” jumped out of the thickets of cryptomeria and ran away with no return. Itachi told him about the plan. “We will lure them to the waste ground,” Itachi said and kissed his shoulders. “You will tell them that I want to confess to Shisui’s murder.” They will be sure that Itachi won’t hurt them, because Sasuke will be with him. “You will make them look into my eyes,” Sasuke looked into his eyes and arched towards the heat of other’s body. It belonged to a man he worshiped. “And I’ll put them in tsukuyomi.” After that, Itachi will take him to tsukuyomi too, and he will kill them as many times as he thinks it is needed. “Under the trance, they will be helpless,” Sasuke helplessly spread his knees. It seemed to him that a bird’s beak was clicking in his ear, but it was just the wind that was knocking behind the window. “It is impossible to take the mangekyou influence away with an ordinary sharingan. You’ll do whatever you want with them.” They will pierce them with katanas, cut through the skin and drop out the entrails. They will be strung up on crosses, and their guts will hang down to the ground. They will open the knuckles and bare up the bones. They will stretch and twist the nerves. There will be moans from nonexistent pain, begging for mercy. They will finish them off and then resurrect one more time. “They will die again and again. Over and over again.” Again and again Sasuke leaned forward, feeling the warmth of the heated foreskin inside. “Until they realize it would be better for them just to leave us be.” And then Itachi will erase everything they remembered about him. All the unspoken suspicions, all the unborn rumors — everything will be covered with a haze of oblivion, everything will turn into dust, everything will remain sealed and buried in their own heads. And Sasuke will be no more to them than the beloved younger brother of the once best retired officer. Sasuke dropped his head on his elbows. Then he fell exhausted on the wet sheet. A feeling of bliss enveloped him from all sides, pulsating in his temples, then in his belly. “How do you like it?” Itachi asked. “Excellent,” Sasuke breathed. “I mean the plan.” Sasuke turned on his side. The moon silvered the black eyes twinkling in the dark. “The plan isn‘t bad either.” Itachi grinned and, carefully covering Sasuke with a blanket, clung to him from behind. Tonight they were one again. A few days later, Sasuke was called by his father. “You’ve been visiting Itachi too much lately,” Fugaku began in a thunderous tone. “So often that bad rumors about you have already begun to go around at the department…” Whatever rumors about him and Itachi went around the department, Sasuke did not want to hear a single word about them. In any case, he and Itachi were already late. At least because their father began to suspect something. And even let himself the meanness to call the rumors about them bad. “And do you believe in this crap?” Fugaku stopped, ungraciously interrupted in a mid-sentence. “Me? No.” “Itachi is my older brother. Why can’t I just come to check on him?” “You can. Of course, you can. But malicious gossips, you know, can harm the reputation of our…” Sasuke bristled internally, but managed not to show it. “You always think only about reputation,” he said coldly, amazed by the fact that he had the courage to do it. “Maybe you forgot, but Itachi is your son, just like me.” “They think he has killed his best friend and consider him for o-kaburo, and all you care about is the reputation of the damn clan.” “I remember perfectly well that Itachi is my son. That’s why I’d like to ask you to be more careful in the future…” Sasuke got up from his knees. At that moment, the meaninglessness of further conversation became clear to him. “When a talk about your own children starts undeservedly, you should support them and not turn away, trembling over your authority,” he said and, bowing more as a sign of formality than respect, went to fusuma. Fugaku might still be grumbling in his back something like “don’t think that since you’re aiming for a commander, you’re supposed to teach me the life”, but Sasuke didn’t hear him anymore. He despaired of finding understanding in his parents. Just as he despaired of finding understanding in anyone else. He rushed to the noka with the green roof, to the only person who was able to give him the wisdom that no one else in this clan possessed. In the whole village. In the whole universe. Sasuke rushed to Itachi. When Itachi pulled off his service vest, Sasuke, stammering and choking with indignation, told about the current state of affairs. Itachi didn’t seem surprised or worried at all. Burying his nose in his brother’s soft hair, he only purred for consolation that they should hurry up. Sasuke understood that himself. Therefore, when he came to the police station the next day, he ordered Tekka, Yashiro and Inabi to come to the waste ground at dawn if they still wanted to beat confessions out of Itachi. The gullibility of these dullards stroke. They weren’t even cautious when Sasuke told them to leave their weapons, assuring them that, if necessary, he would deal with Itachi himself. In zero hour all three, as according to the percepts, came to the waste ground without a single kunai. The brothers were waiting for them on the gallery, ready to administer justice. “Well, is it the hour of reckoning upon us?” Yashiro grinned, standing up with his comrades in one line in front of engawa. “Shisui’s spirit must have tortured him completely,” Tekka chuckled. “You don’t sleep well at night, do you, Itachi?” Inabi echoed him. Itachi, who was sitting on the engawa cross-legged and resting his palm on one knee, didn’t even change his face. Sasuke, gritting his teeth with chilling anger, jumped off the flooring onto the sand. He flattered himself that it would be just a moment — and these bastards would get what they deserved. The main thing now is just to play along with Itachi so that he could put them into genjutsu. Already then it will be possible to do with them whatever the heart desires. Thinking about this, Sasuke felt with pleasure how his fingers began to sparkle from the discharges on the eve of an imminent reprisal. “Enough talking,” he stopped the scoffers and playfully threw his service katana from palm to palm. “Did you come here to scratch your language or to collect evidence?” “Of course, we need the evidence,” Yashiro growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “And we’re not leaving here without them.” “Then listen carefully,” Sasuke waved his katana and stopped it in a bu from Itachi’s chin. He slightly tilted his head back, but his eyes still expressed neither fear nor anger. “All the evidence is collected in Itachi’s memories. To get into them and copy with the sharingan, you will have to look him in the eye. Then…” “Who are we, the fools, to look him in the eye?” Tekka protested. The others nodded approvingly. Sasuke did not take aback and, holding the katana at Itachi’s throat, calmly continued. “As long as I’m here and control Itachi from the outside, he won’t touch you. You can be sure that nothing threatens you in his head. However,” Sasuke put away the blade that flashed in the moonlight, and, looking at his reflection in it, smiled arrogantly. “If you don’t trust me, you‘d rather not take unnecessary risks. In the end, no one will believe your unjustified assumptions anyway.” All three looked at each other in uncertainty. Sasuke grinned, resting the tip of his katana on the sand. Itachi was silent. There was no doubt that they had managed to catch these idiots shallow. Now they will do everything possible, but will act in such a way that they do not lose their sense of dignity and take what they came for. And, of course, they will fall into an artfully prepared trap. “Okay,” after a short thought and a couple of glances Yashiro finally agreed and came closer. Tekka and Inabi followed him cautiously. “We trust you with our lives, Sasuke-san. But we only do this because,” here he leaned forward, looking at Sasuke from under his brows, and he saw the reddened cornea, “that you are your father’s son.” Sasuke froze for a second, feeling something prick him under the ribs. Fortunately, this feeling quickly passed, and he looked at Itachi and brought the katana blade to his chin again. “Go ahead.” Itachi’s eyes widened. The black magatamas on his iris curled up like snakes and turned into a triangle. A red dot flashed in the depths of the pupil, and Itachi raised his hand. It was a sign that all three were now under his power. Sasuke took a deep breath and, turning to his brother, let him capture himself in genjutsu. He wasn’t doing it only for himself — but for both of them. And no, he wasn’t afraid. If Itachi wanted to kill him along with these poor people, he would have done it even earlier. Sasuke completely trusted him and, experiencing the power of the mangekyou sharingan for a split second, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw that the waste ground on which they were standing was painted with scarlet by the rising red moon. “You… You tricked us, Itachi!” Yashiro screamed, jumping back. “Damn you!” Tekka echoed him. Sasuke, who in the first seconds was blinded by the bloody glow in which the district was now drowning, cautiously looked around. Katana was with him. As his eyes got used to the bright light, Sasuke determined that Inabi was the closest to him. The same long-haired Inabi who dared to make his brother apologize on his knees. “Deal with him,” Itachi’s voice, which in the illusion seemed to come from everywhere at once and at the same time from nowhere, whispered smarmy into his ears. Sasuke nodded confidently to him, although he didn’t even see him, and strongly stepped towards the terrified Inabi. He looked as pitiable as a stray kitten that was shivering in the rain. Sasuke marched at him without feeling a drop of pity and liked it pretty well. “I remember you called my brother o-kaburo?” Sasuke asked him mockingly, holding out his katana in front of him. “It seems to be the time to take back your words now.” Inabi backed away from him in animal fear, but his legs did not obey him. Sasuke moved slowly and inexorably, like a tiger chasing a wounded deer. He knew Inabi wouldn’t run away from him. And he enjoyed these sweet moments before the triumph, which he was unconditionally sure about. “Don’t come closer!” Inabi shrieked with the same wild fright, with which he screamed on the threshold of Itachi’s house. Then he folded his index and middle fingers and began convulsively throwing them up in front of him. “Dissipate! Dissipate!” “It’s useless,” Sasuke came closer to him. Right now, one swing — just a swing, not even a hit — of the katana would be enough to knock Inabi down. He could barely keep balance from fear. “You can scream as much as you want. In this reality, no one will help you.” “You!.. You will pay for this! Fugaku-sama will rip your scalp off!” “Try to tell Fugaku about it,” Sasuke smiled out of the corner of his mouth. He did not ignore how quickly Inabi forgot about good manners, being in a critical situation. “If, of course, you will remember at least something after that.” Inabi seemed to understand that the situation was hopeless. Trying to escape, he rushed away, but the illusion held him in place. Sasuke noticed how a cobblestone kindly grew out from under the ground, thrown with red, and Inabi immediately tripped over it, falling on all fours. Inabi turned around in a panic. He tried to get up, but couldn’t. Fear spurred him on, pushed him forward, forcing to tear the skin on his elbows and drag his butt on the ground. Sasuke caught himself thinking that he was insanely pleased to watch these worthless attempts to save his skin. With one clumsy pull, Inabi drew back from him on ken — Sasuke easily overtook him in two steps. When Inabi was exhausted, Sasuke came closer and stopped, towering over him like a sheer cliff over the harbor. Then he took the katana out from behind his shoulder and hit him with the blade. If wakashu always dies for a samurai, then Sasuke was ready to kill for Itachi. He worshipped him. For his life, he would trade his own, someone else’s, he would destroy thousands, no, millions of lives just to be sure that Itachi would still stay by his side. Sasuke struck again. Inabi screamed. “Have mercy!” They made them suffer, hide, languish from loneliness and seek comfort in each other. They didn’t want to understand them and didn’t want to take a step towards them. They suspected them. They didn’t consider them for people. They thought their relationship was something low, dirty, vulgar. Unworthy. Another strike. Inabi choked on blood. His heart-rending cry turned into a guttural gurgle. Sasuke beat him again and again, and Inabi’s death rattles sounded like music to his refused soul. Oh, they were so unfair to them. They despised them. Now it’s their turn to avenge long-standing grudges. They will destroy them. Burn this world to the ground. They will make everyone disappear. And then they will build their own city on their bones. They will build a new reality. A reality in which there will be no place for such miserable and petty people. They are united by blood. By thoughts. By feelings. By the one soul that lived in two bodies. United by the darkness that pushed them into the abyss. They were ready to step into this abyss together, so that together they could rise above the whole clan. There will be a butsudan erected to their only honor, where they will be worshipped as harbingers of grace. One more swing of the katana. Another one. Sasuke stopped counting. He hit hard, without watching where each blow fell. Chest, stomach, shoulders, head — Sasuke wouldn’t care even if Inabi turned into a sieve. Any harm done in genjutsu could be compensated, and, unexpectedly discovering the freedom that came with getting rid of the consequences, Sasuke felt the true taste of tyranny. He knew that no matter what he did, he would stay unpunished. And he liked his role of the torturer. Itachi will be proud of him. Their love is divine. Inabi rolled on the ground, red as a boiled shrimp, and no longer screamed. Only powerlessly covered his face with his fingers twisted in convulsions. Sasuke went down on one knee and grabbed him by his torn throat, from which blood was gushing. Inabi threw up on his hand, and Sasuke disgustedly shook him like a carcass before cutting. “Do you still think that Itachi is responsible for Shisui’s death?” Inabi raised his head. The look of his blurred eyes was dull, long hair in red drops stuck to his face. Inabi mumbled something unintelligible, and Sasuke squeezed his neck with his hand with all his strength. “Perish.” He didn’t hear the answer. He didn’t hear a clear and obvious “no”. And that meant only one thing — Inabi had just signed his own death warrant. He began to grunt again, his eyes sunk deep into his bloody face. A thin wheeze was heard, and then a cramp passed through Inabi’s whole body, and his pupils rolled under the upper eyelids. Sasuke felt how Inabi’s head became heavy and fell like a stone on his chest. He looked around, and then the sickening, ferrous smell of blood hit him in the nose. Sasuke with difficulty opened his fingers, which were furiously squeezing Inabi’s neck. He fell like a spineless puppet to the sand, settling squelched in a pool of his own blood. Sasuke suddenly looked at him and recoiled. His legs buckled, and he leaned on his katana to keep himself from falling off. Why didn’t Inabi get up? They wanted to resurrect him to kill again… Sasuke felt something sticky with his fingers. He looked at the trembling hand with which he had strangled Inabi. It was smeared all over with red up to the elbow, as if Sasuke had dipped her in a tub of offal. The salty taste on the tongue occured. The ring sounded — the katana fell to the ground. Sasuke got to his feet. He couldn’t take his eyes off the hand covered in someone else’s blood. Making an effort, he looked at the body in front of him. The browned crust that was baked on the cut haori with emblems was lighted by the rays of the risen sun. “Itachi…” Sasuke called him without turning around. And then he suddenly realized something terrible and pulled his hair in despair. “Itachi, this isn’t a genjutsu!” It really wasn’t genjutsu anymore. There was a corpse lying on the ground in front of him. Sasuke felt a heaviness inside his lungs. The mist blurred his view, it became difficult to breathe. The body did not obey, and only the immutable truth echoed in the ears like a sound of taiko: “I just have killed a human.” Inabi, that jackass, who didn’t even deserve to walk on the same ground with his older brother. But he killed him. “Itachi-i…” Sasuke whined. “What have I done…” The air behind him heaved, and Sasuke felt a hot breath on his neck. “You did everything right, Sasuke-chan.” “I killed him!” Sasuke felt hurt by the swallow. Something invisible was choking him from within, and the words he wanted to shout out at the top of his voice stuck in his throat, turning into plaintive sobs. “Killed…” “Sasuke…” Sasuke felt himself being turned around and saw Itachi’s face right in front of him. His brother’s warm palm landed on his cheek and slid down. Itachi lifted his chin. His black eyes were shining, and Sasuke thanked heaven that Itachi was there right now. “Don’t be afraid. It’s all good.” “But I…” He took the life of an innocent man. “It was necessary.” Itachi grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him closer. “They choked on the dust because the spirits said they must.” Sasuke sobbed again, shaking with his whole body. Itachi stroked his back until the trembling subsided. Then Sasuke pulled away and asked: “They?” Itachi took a step to the side. The bodies of Yashiro and Tekka, looking like chopped-up training dummies, lay motionless in the middle of the waste ground, drenched with blood and sunlight. Sasuke holded his hands over his mouth. It seemed to him that all his insides rose to his throat. Itachi hugged him from his back. “We can start and finish wars. Our love will bring death and grant rebirth. We will plant a garden on their remains. Our love is God.” “Our love is God…” Sasuke repeated. The wind rustled in the branches of cryptomeria. The sun lit up the earth, crimson because of blood. Sasuke felt the warmth of Itachi and did not want to leave him for a second. “It-tachi-kun…” a thin girl’s voice came from the edge of the waste ground. Sasuke barely had the strength to turn around. “Izumi,” Itachi whispered. Sasuke looked with a distracted gaze there, where the voice came from and saw “otafuku”. She stood with her palms pressed to her chest. There was horror splashing in her eyes. “Sasuke, do you love me?” Itachi bent down to his ear, spoke so quietly that no one but Sasuke could hear his words. These words rang in his head and mind. Since they had become one, Itachi had been passing unhindered into the vessel of his soul. “Yes,” Sasuke replied. Izumi, numb, looked straight into his eyes, and the appearance of her fat cheeks, pale as the ones of a porcelain doll with an always happy face, made him feel even more sick than the smell of blood. “Then kill her.” The old Sasuke would have recoiled in horror with a silent question “what?” on his lips. The old Sasuke, who groveled before his fellow clansmen, shunned Itachi and was afraid of rumors, would have run away. But the old Sasuke no longer existed. His place was taken by the true Sasuke, the one in which light and darkness coexisted in a single harmony. “Do you remember that she loved me? Do you hate her? Do you want her dead?” No one could love Itachi more than Sasuke. Itachi belonged to him, and only to him. Sasuke will deal without regret with everyone who tries to take Itachi away from him. Their love is sacred. Their love is inviolable. They are one. Sasuke rushed forward, feeling the heat in his hand, sprinkled with Inabi’s blood. The air above the fingers crackled, and a myriad of broken flashes burst out of it. Sasuke was at Izumi’s side in a second and with a precise hit plunged a sparkling hand into her close to the sternum. The hand went through the flesh with the ease of a knife slicing the tofu. Izumi gasped and, choking, stepped back. Sasuke felt something inside her pushing into his fingers. At first he froze in puzzlement, but then he suddenly grasped his phalanges and sensed something hot, alive and trembling with them. “Otafuku”, still conscious, looked at him with narrow black eyes, which seemed to be painted with ink. Sasuke saw a pleading in them and pulled his hand out of her body. The painted eyes closed, and Izumi fell to the ground with a heavy bang. Sasuke held her weakly beating heart in his hand. How did this heart dare to love his dearest brother when Sasuke was the only one who was allowed to do it? Now he will bring it to Itachi as a sign of adoreness and mercilessly smash it, and its pericardium will nourish their immutable love. When Itachi came closer, Izumi was no longer breathing. Sasuke turned to him, holding out her heart. Veins and arteries that he hadn’t severed were twisting on the ground. Sasuke looked Itachi in the eye. He waited for recognition from him. “Good enough?” he asked mentally. Itachi shook his head, folding his hands behind his back. “The darkness inside you is gaining strength. But it’s still not enough.” Itachi stepped behind him. “You don’t have enough hate.” Sasuke shuddered. Then he threw the heart away in disgust. His hands colored like fermented wort in the morning light. “Your hand was shaking. But you’re on the right track,” Itachi said, walking away. “Next time you will do everything perfectly.” “Sure, nii-san.” Sasuke didn’t think about what kind of “next time” he meant. He hurriedly picked himself up and trotted after his brother. Itachi wandered through the waste ground between the dead bodies sedately and majestically, as if he was walking through a rock garden on an autumn evening. Then he stopped. Sasuke caught up with him and looked around. He could see only now, how monstrous the whole outcome of their plan was. “What are we going to do with the corpses?” Sasuke asked tonelessly. Itachi shrugged his shoulders. “We will fake a group suicide.” “Group suicide?” “Yes. We’ll falsify the handwriting and write a suicide letter. These two,” Itachi stretched out his leg and pointed with the zori toe at the prone bodies of Yashiro and Tekka, “were lovers and suffered from the results of their forbidden love. Izumi,” Itachi looked at the lifeless “otafuku” doll, “longed for one of them, and when he rejected her, she tore out her heart in the agony of mental anguish. And this one,” Itachi waved his hand in the direction of Inabi, whom Sasuke killed, “yearned for Izumi and could not cope with the pain of loss.” Sasuke chuckled. “You sound like a poet.” Itachi smiled; he didn’t mind. Shisui’s death brought goodness. The death of these four will also bring goodness. They stood shoulder to shoulder, bowed their heads and put their palms together — they honored the memory of the dead. In front of them was a waste ground, the blood on which in an hour became just earth. Two hours later, flowers sprang up on it and the grass turned green. After three, the lifeless wasteland began to breathe. There will be a future built on it, in which they will be united. In which their souls are destined to belong to each other. In which only their divine love is holy. This morning, there were four people less in the Uchiha clan. The Military Police was mobilizing, and it would be strange if the fairytale about a group suicide was accepted as absolutely as Sasuke’s words about Itachi, who wanted to repent. Yakumi’s trackers immediately sensed something was wrong. They secured the area of tragical events, sniffed every stone, checked every go and, in the end, came to the conclusion that “group suicide” is a consequence of someone’s skillfully executed genjutsu. Suspicion fell on Itachi. He lived close to the incident place and was a genius of illusory skill. And he was also disliked in the clan. When Sasuke came to him in the dark to warn him about the imminent arrest, Itachi said that everything was fine. He knew about it. There was no need to be afraid. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, pulling Sasuke to him. “I won’t get lost. Our love is so strong that it will overcome even this barrier. But in no case,” he kissed him on the lips and looked into his eyes, and Sasuke straightened himself up under the hardness of this glance, “don’t try to protect me. Act like you didn’t know anything. Despise me, hate me and cultivate the darkness inside. They mustn’t guess.” And they didn’t. When Itachi was put behind bars, dirty gossip about their relationship began to wane by itself. Everyone was seriously concerned about what had recently happened; some of them, the most desperate, made accusations against shinobi from the village and the surrounding area, fearing an invasion from outside. Sasuke didn’t say a word in support of his brother, but he didn’t know for sure if he wanted to say anything at all. He pretended to hate, and at some point he stopped understanding whether he was really pretending. The nightmares started to torture him again. In the darkness of the night, Shisui came to him, put a chawan on the table and drank poison. Izumi-"otafuku” sat down next to him, squeaked “Itachi-kun!” in her nasty thin voice and hid behind Shisui’s back. Inabi appeared next, shouted “Have mercy!” and began to tear off the skin on his head. All three usually sat around the futon and stared at Sasuke with their similar eyes. Sometimes one of them raised a voice, and then the others echoed it chaotically. Shisui thanked for the visit, Izumi repeated his brother’s name, Inabi begged for mercy. Sasuke listened to this cat concert with his head in his hands and couldn’t make them stop. Sometimes they came to him one by one, sometimes all at once. Sasuke turned away to the wall and plugged his ears, but when he woke up the next morning, he always saw a ghostly haze of their souls at the head of the bed. At such moments he became afraid and wanted to see his brother. However, his brother was in prison, and Sasuke had no choice except to fight the nightmares on his own. He stopped getting enough sleep. He mixed a dream up with reality, and at every meeting about the case of “group suicide” he wanted to shout out “They didn’t kill themselves! It was me who killed them! Me!”. One day he almost decided to do it. He stood at the blackboard and said that he would like to confess. The colleagues twirled their fingers at their temples, and Yakumi said that for such a talented offense, one needs the illusion skill equal to the strength of the mangekyou sharingan’s owner. Sasuke didn’t have a mangekyou. And he did not believe that one day he would also be able to awaken it. No one has ever thought that he could be an accessory, because Sasuke had no motives. He did not cross paths with any of the dead, as they all served in different units. Meanwhile, Sasuke felt worse and worse. It seemed to him as if the darkness was devouring him from within. When Sasuke came to work once again, his father handed him an empty snow-white form. “What is it?” Sasuke asked. “It’s a petition. We need to collect signatures from everyone.” “For what?” “The investigation of that case has reached a dead end,” Fugaku always called the crime of which his son was suspected “that case”. It must have been unpleasant for him to bring up unnecessary details about it in his mind. “We decided to contact the leadership of Konoha and request support from the Yamanaka clan.” “And why is it necessary to collect signatures of everyone?” “If the person who killed them is really such a genial genjutsu master,” Fugaku swallowed the words, but Sasuke realized that he wanted to say “like Itachi”, “then our clan is in serious danger. No one among us, except me, owns mangekyou, so we can stop the killer and protect the people only with external help. To show our peaceful intentions, we need everyone’s signature.” Sasuke nodded, although deep inside he wanted to laugh in his father’s face. “Do you think Itachi really could have killed them?” he suddenly asked Fugaku. He did not answer immediately. “Even though I’m his father, I can’t see what’s in his head.” “Do you suspect him too?” Sasuke asked directly. “If it could be possible, I would have cleared him of all suspicion.” These evasive words did not leave Sasuke satisfied. Apparently, Fugaku read about it on his face. Sasuke shuddered when he felt his father’s rough palm on his forehead. “You don’t look that much healthy,” Fugaku remarked, checking to see if he had a fever. “You should go home earlier today.” “I’m fine,” Sasuke objected, even though he had seen his own sleepy eyes in the mirror in the morning. Fugaku shook his head. “I gave you a task, so you are now free of urgent convocations for today. Walk around the quarter and collect signatures. Then you can rest.” Sasuke wanted to rebel, but at the last moment bit his tongue. It was still only noon. Almost all the villagers were returning from work for lunch, so Sasuke found many of them at home. The white petition sheet was filled with hieroglyphs of names. They were so constrained in the graphs that the most wide lines of strokes went beyond the square frames, leaving no empty space. Returning to the manor, Sasuke went to his father’s office and left the written sheet on the desktop. Then he went back to his room. He undressed, laid down on the futon and closed his eyes. In a dream he saw a wasteland. A red moon shone over it, and the dusty ground was full of corpses. No, it was teeming with them. There were hundreds of dead bodies, and everywhere he could see, he bumped on a gaze of someone’s dry face, yellowed, because his life had left him. Everyone from their clan was here. Children and old people, men and women, sick and healthy — all of them lied in heaps, like the bulls carcasses in a slaughterhouse, posed unnaturally, crouching because of the agony of death. Their limbs stuck out from everywhere, their sunken mouths gaped open in a silent scream, and their empty eye sockets with equally faded grey sclera, like those of a dead fish, were black. The bodies were bleeding, they smelled of decay, the cold came from them. The air stank of the fumes of cadaver decomposition. Sasuke jerked and felt the weight of the katana in his hand. The blood on the blade was so thickened that it was impossible to see even a shadow of reflection on it. Sasuke would like to run away, but his feet seemed to root in the ground. Itachi, dressed in a military uniform, was walking across the wasteland towards him. He stepped over the corpses as easily as if they were just moss bumps in a swamp. With indifference, he pushed other people’s heads, arms and legs out of the way, in case they didn’t let him pass. He clutched the wakizashi blade with one hand and smiled with a blood-curdling tengu smile. “Look, Sasuke-chan,” Itachi said and spread his hands. “Look. They’re all dead.” “What did you do with them?!” Sasuke recoiled, but realized that he was still standing in the same place. A dream, an illusion, his own imagination — whatever it was, it worked against him. “They died for us,” Itachi was approaching. “They signed their death and committed a mass suicide.” “You’re lying… It’s you! You killed them!” “Sasuke…” Itachi smiled again. As gently and affectionately as he smiled only at him before kissing. Only now Sasuke didn’t understand how that creepy smile could have seemed so attractive to him before. “It was not only me, who killed them. You killed them with me together.” He remembered about the katana; the bloody blade was reaching for the ground, and Sasuke, glancing at it only once, convulsively tried to free his hand. “No…” the katana did not fall — no matter how many times he threw it away, it stuck tightly to his fingers, like the one smeared with pine sap. “No!” “Why not? After all, they never understood us and did not accept us as we were. It was your words.” Sasuke shook his head helplessly. He tried to wake up, but the vision was here and burst into his consciousness as soon as he closed his eyes. “Sasuke, there is the same darkness in you as in me. Bow to this reality. Resign to your fate. We’ll be together. We will be one. Our love is sacred.” Itachi stepped over another body, and Sasuke realized in fear that it was the corpse of his own mother. “Stop it!” he exclaimed, not hearing his own voice. “Stop it? Oh, no, Sasuke-chan, this is just the beginning. We will build our altar on their bones. They fell, sacrificing their lives to our great love.” Itachi wanted to step forward, but something stopped him. Another dead man was in the way, and wakizashi fell to the ground with a whoosh, cutting off his head. The head was separated from the body. Itachi roughly kicked it away, and it rolled on the ground. It was the head of Fugaku. “Enough!” Sasuke howled, unable to be a witness of this scene. “After all, you love me, Sasuke. You’d do anything for me. You will kill for me.” Sasuke thought he was going crazy. “Stop this madness! I don’t want to kill anymore!” “It’s too late, Sasuke-chan. You’ve already crossed the line. The darkness inside you has grown up.” They’ve gone too far. There’s no point going back now. They must finish what they have begun. Must finish. Black wings opened behind Itachi’s back, and the blade grew into a shakujo with copper rings on its top. A strong wind rose out of nowhere, and a flock of crows rushed into the scarlet sky above their heads. Flapping their wings, they cawed loudly, and Sasuke followed their flight with his eyes feeling his heart pounding. When he looked in front of him again, instead of his brother’s face, he saw a bird’s beak. Itachi struck the ground with the end of the stick and, turning around, soared up into the sky on a wave of the ha-uchiwa feathers. Sasuke stared after him in horror, and a guttural croak echoed in his ears: “It’s too late, Sasuke-chan. You’ve already crossed the line.” When Sasuke woke up, he no longer remembered anything that had worried him before. He thought only of one thing: Itachi said that the people, whose corpses Sasuke saw in a nightmare, “signed their death.” Unexpectedly, he realized what it was supposed to mean. Fear rose from the depths of his soul, and Sasuke, putting on a kimono, went out into the rouka and made his way to the north wing. It was a deep moonless night. The parents were sleeping peacefully at home, in the courtyard there was a shishi-odoshi tapping sometimes and the crickets sang. Sasuke opened the partition wall and entered his father’s office. There was no signed paper on the table. Only a jar of ink, keys and a couple of kunai were lying around, apparently not being usable anymore. Sasuke rushed to the shelves and began sorting through the scrolls on them. He pulled out drawers, opened shutters, rummaged through the contents of paper folders. From the anxiety that gripped him, his heart was pounding so hard that it probably could breach his ribs. Finally, the petition he was looking for caught his eye. It flew out of a random folder and smoothly landed on the tatami. Sasuke picked it up and smoothed the edges. Then ran through the disorganized, inconsistent rows of signatures once again. Everyone with whom he shared the same surname was here. Father and mother, friends, colleagues, coworkers, former classmates. There were only two of them missing — he himself and his older brother. Sasuke took the sheet and carefully folded it, but before returning back to the room, he also collected one of the old kunai just for sure. In his room he lit a candle and knelt down in front of the table. The paper lay before his eyes, and the light of the flame flickered on it in a doubled circle. Sasuke was sitting on his knees, clutching kunai and looking at the petition. His hands felt the cold steel of the blade. The crickets were no longer singing, and the thick blackness that spread outside the window seemed to swallow up anyone who would leave the house now. For some reason, Sasuke had a premonition that he would come today. And then he heard a voice. “It’s a beautiful night, Sasuke-chan. Isn’t it? ” Sasuke turned around. There was a shadow behind the whiteness of the transparent paper with which fusuma was covered. “Why did you come here?” Sasuke bared his teeth, clutching the kunai even tighter. The velvety voice poured like a syrup into his ears, forcing him to remember those moments when they were together. “I missed my younger brother. I want to see him again. Let me come in.” “No.” Sasuke resisted. Itachi told him that he should hate him. He hated him. “Sasuke… You once said you worshipped me. Swore you’d never leave me. You promised that you would do anything for the sake of our love.” “It’s all in the past,” Sasuke said through clenched teeth. He knew it was a lie. “Go away.” “Is it really in the past?” Sasuke shut his eyes. He remembered the arms that hugged him. The lips that slid over his body. He remembered the tangled fingers, the rustle of touches and insinuating whispers. Itachi understood him better than anyone. Itachi loved him the most. Itachi was everything to him, and he was everything to Itachi. Their love was God. “I was meant to be yours. You and I were meant to be one. You left me, but our bond is unbreakable. I came back to finish what we began.” Sasuke raised the kunai. He clenched his teeth again, feeling a lump rise in his throat. A sound similar to a painful sob got out from his chest. “We’ll get rid of them. We will kill them all and dance on their remains. We will leave a note on the edge of their grave…” “We, members of the Uchiha clan…” Sasuke heard and didn’t want to. “will die today and therefore ask you not to blame anyone for our death.” He realized it too late. “Our bodies may finally get through to you. We are sure you will find a good use for them.” Now he couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t. “This society churns out rats and slaves — we thank you very much and refuse to become a part of it.” It was like a nightmare from which he was unable to wake up. “Signed by members of the Uchiha clan. Goodbye.” He remembered Itachi stroking his head. How he told him things he wouldn’t have heard from anyone else. Itachi was his light, his darkness. Itachi loved him. “I know you’re scared. I was scared too. But our love is stronger than fear. It’s stronger than the pain. It knows no boundaries, knows no taboos.” They wanted to destroy everyone so that history would remember only their names. They dreamed of a bright future and wanted to change the present. They believed they were sent here to bring goodness. To be together. To be one. “Let me in, Sasuke. There will be no walls between us. We will stay together, we will live for each other, we will be happy.” They started and finished wars. They raised the passion from the ashes. They turned illusions into reality. “You were meant to be mine. Don’t leave me alone. Let us finish what we began…” They were born to correct all the mistakes of this evil world. The spirits bound them with a red thread and granted them a great goal. “Sasuke, I’m coming in.” They loved each other. Their love is eternal. “Sasuke…”

***

Fusuma slowly moved to the side. Itachi stepped noiselessly into the darkened room, which was faintly illuminated by a short candle stub on the table. Taking another step, Itachi felt that he had touched something with the toe of jika-tabi, and looked down at his feet. Sasuke was lying face down on the futon, with his arms outstretched. At first Itachi thought he was asleep, but his sharp eyes saw a dark trace at the head of the bed in the dim light of the candle. Itachi bent and sat down on one knee. The tsuba of wakizashi on his belt tinkled plaintively. Itachi took Sasuke by the shoulder and turned him upside down. Sasuke stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes. A kunai was sticking out of his throat. Itachi lowered his eyelids. Then he folded his hands in a prayer sign and stayed still for a couple of moments. Then got up and walked to the table. The signed paper was still there, safe and untouched. Itachi rolled it together and hid in his bosom. Pushing the shoji aside, he jumped out of the window without a single noise and disappeared into the darkness.

***

“Hokage-sama! Breaking news. A mass suicide was committed in the Uchiha quarter last night.” “What? It‘s not possible. How has this happened?” “All the clan members stabbed themselves. Their bodies, along with a suicide note, were found in the haiden of the Naka-Shrine. There was no one left alive. Only Itachi Uchiha…” “That Itachi?” “Exactly. The one who was removed from service nine years ago… His signature was not in the note.” “Good to know.” Great peace can be found only in death. They knew about it when they died. “Hokage-sama, can I ask you a question?” “Go ahead.” “Why was Itachi forced to leave the Military Police? What happened to him?” “Well, how can I tell you… According to an unofficial version from the archives, he had a shosei boy in his service, with whom, as the rumors spoke, he had a very strong connection. Once, when they were on the defense, the boy wanted to give Itachi a clan flag, but he was blown up on the explosive tag. His remains, together with the flag, fell on Itachi’s face. It was rumored that then, looking at the flag in his hands, he hated the clan. And some time later, he personally resigned because he could no longer work in the police.” “And according to the official version?” “According to the official version, Itachi just hit his head during one of the missions. Everyone chooses what is easier for them to believe.” “Then, what do you believe in?” “I believe that if there was a shosei, then he was quite the same as Sasuke.”