Five years had passed since the Uchiha massacre.
Five years during which Sasuke had convinced himself he'd processed the trauma, that with Naruto's friendship and support from others, he'd managed to dilute some of the pain. He'd told himself that Uchiha Itachi was just a target now, just an obstacle to overcome, nothing more than a name on a list.
He'd been lying to himself.
The moment Sasuke saw his brother standing on that streetlamp, wearing that same expression of cruel amusement he'd worn the night he'd slaughtered their parents—the look that said their clan's lives had meant nothing, that they were insects accidentally crushed beneath his heel, barely worth remembering—the rage Sasuke had buried deep came roaring back.
How dare he.
Itachi might not care about the lives of their parents and clan. But Sasuke cared. Cared with every fiber of his being. And he would not allow anyone to treat their deaths as meaningless.
Uchiha Itachi must die.
Looking at that mocking face, seeing that same casual disdain Itachi had shown while painting the compound walls with blood, Sasuke's control nearly shattered. His entire body trembled with the effort of restraining himself.
Itachi stood on the streetlamp with arms crossed, that playful smirk fixed in place. But his eyes weren't on Sasuke. They'd moved to the boy standing beside his little brother.
Naruto stood tall and composed, radiating calm presence. But beneath that surface calm, Itachi could see something else: concern. Deep, genuine concern for Sasuke.
He's grown, Itachi noted, studying his brother's increased height and breadth. Five years. Naruto's been taking care of him well.
"Well, well," Itachi said, his voice carrying false cheer. "It seems my little brother found himself an excellent friend. You two are inseparable, aren't you? How touching."
The words were designed to wound, to trivialize.
Naruto wanted to punch that condescending smile off Itachi's face immediately. His fists clenched with the effort of holding back. But this was Sasuke's fight, Sasuke's nightmare to confront. Naruto would only intervene if Sasuke truly needed help.
"Hmph." The sound came out cold and dismissive.
Itachi didn't react to the obvious hostility. His attention had already returned to Sasuke, taking in his brother's barely controlled rage with apparent satisfaction.
He glanced down at Kisame, who sat on the ground looking bored. "My brother's friend there is going to be a distraction. Would you mind keeping him occupied? I'd like some private time to catch up with dear Sasuke. I'm sure my precious little brother has so much he wants to say to me."
Kisame pushed himself to his feet, studying Naruto with professional assessment. Tall for his age, lean muscle, steady stance. The kid had training.
"Understood, Itachi-san." Kisame walked slowly toward Naruto, his tone conversational. "You're pretty tall for a brat. Actually, I'd rather not fight a kid. If you turn around and leave right now, I might consider sparing your life. How about it?"
Naruto met the shark-like eyes without flinching. His voice was absolutely certain. "I won't leave. Sasuke is my friend. I don't abandon my friends."
"Such admirable loyalty," Kisame said, genuine respect coloring his words. "It's almost a shame to—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
A shadow fell over him, growing larger by the second. Kisame looked up slowly, his eyes widening.
Naruto towered above him, having activated his full Iron Body transformation. Twenty meters tall, every muscle defined with impossible density, radiating power that made the air itself tremble.
The giant's voice boomed down, rattling Kisame's eardrums: "Big shark face. What did you just call me? A brat? You said you'd spare my life?"
Naruto had never been one for lengthy conversation. The moment he'd decided Kisame needed to be dealt with, he'd transformed.
Kisame swallowed hard, his neck craning back at a painful angle to look up at the titan. His body trembled despite his best efforts to control it.
This kid just turned into a twenty-meter giant. A giant with muscles that look like they could crack mountains.
He looked down at Naruto's feet. The boy's shoes had burst apart from the transformation, his jacket shredded to pieces. Only a pair of underpants remained intact, stretched to their absolute limit.
"Big shark face," the giant's voice rumbled again, "repeat what you just said."
Kisame pulled Samehada from his back with shaking hands, ran to Naruto's toe, and pressed his face against it with a smile that was probably meant to look innocent.
"Hahahha! I said your toes are absolutely magnificent! I was just thinking I'd like to help with some grooming! Professional service, completely free!"
He raised Samehada as if to trim toenails.
"How thoughtful."
Naruto lifted one massive foot and kicked.
The movement was casual, almost lazy. To Naruto, it was barely a tap.
Kisame brought Samehada up in a desperate block.
BOOM!
The impact felt like being hit by a falling mountain. Force transmitted through the sword and into Kisame's body with crushing intensity. His internal organs compressed violently.
He flew backward, airborne, blood spraying from his mouth in three distinct bursts before he crashed to earth fifty meters away and lay still, unable to rise.
The commotion drew both Uchiha brothers' attention.
Itachi stared at the giant Naruto had become, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. How? How did Naruto become like this? What happened in five years?
A terrible thought occurred to him: Is Sasuke the same?
If so, how am I supposed to teach him properly? How can I make him hate me enough if I can't even hurt him?
Sasuke barely glanced at Naruto. His friend's strength had always been reliable. With Naruto handling Kisame, Sasuke could focus entirely on the person who mattered.
But before fighting, Sasuke realized he needed answers. Questions that had haunted him for five years, questions that had kept him awake countless nights.
Maybe—and he hated himself for this thought—maybe there was still some small chance this could all be explained.
"Itachi." His voice came out rougher than intended, trembling despite his best efforts. "Big brother. That's the last time I'll call you that. I need to know something."
He forced himself to meet Itachi's eyes. "Do you have a reason? Did something force your hand? Killing our parents, our entire clan—that can't have been what you wanted. It can't have been."
The words spilled out faster now, desperate. "Things have happened over these five years. Evidence that suggests there were other forces behind the Uchiha massacre. Shadows manipulating events. Please, Itachi. Tell me the truth. The real truth about what happened that night."
Some of Naruto's theories, combined with fragments Sasuke had pieced together himself, suggested conspiracies. And Sasuke couldn't reconcile the brother who'd loved him so genuinely with the monster who'd slaughtered everyone.
That love had been real. He'd felt it in every interaction, every moment of Itachi's care. How could someone capable of such love destroy everything with his own hands?
Sasuke didn't want to believe it.
But he'd seen what Itachi did. Facts didn't lie. He'd witnessed the massacre with his own eyes, trapped in Tsukuyomi, forced to watch their parents die over and over.
Five years later, finally facing Itachi again, Sasuke asked the question that had been eating at him since that terrible night.
Itachi looked at his little brother's face, saw the hope warring with hatred there, heard the desperation in Sasuke's voice.
The words cut deeper than any blade could. His heart felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly, each beat bringing fresh agony.
For one terrible moment, Itachi wanted to tell the truth. Wanted to explain everything—Danzo's ultimatum, the village's orders, the impossible choice between Sasuke's life and the clan's survival.
He resisted the urge with every ounce of willpower he possessed.
No. I can't. If Sasuke knows the truth, he'll forgive me. And if he forgives me, he won't grow strong enough to survive what's coming.
He needs to hate me. He needs that hatred to drive him forward, to push him beyond his limits.
I have to be the villain in his story. No matter how much it destroys me.