The Eyes Have It

I.

I, Eye

Uchiha Fugaku opened the door a split second before the scrawny chūnin could continue knocking. "Yes?"

The boy straightened his glasses nervously, then patted his spotless flak jacket for reassurance. "A—are you Uchiha Fugaku-sama, father of Itachi-kun?"

"Yes," Fugaku said again, but remained formidably in the doorway, arms crossed. Both his police uniform and rigid posture complemented the man's severe expression. "Is he staying late at the Academy tonight?"

The chūnin shifted his weight. "Actually, Itachi-kun never came to class today, sir. He was supposed to take a few tests. Is he unwell?"

Fugaku straightened even more, if possible, and called his wife, who came to the door and smiled warmly in recognition. "Ah, Ebisu-kun, is it? What brings you to our home, dear?"

The smiling Uchiha housewife was far different from the merciless jōnin that had effectively neutralized Ebisu's team during the last Chūnin Exams. The boy straightened and opened his mouth.

"Itachi didn't go to the Academy today," Fugaku explained. "He was supposed to take examinations. Is he in his room?"

Mikoto's hands flashed through hand seals. "He is at his favorite training ground. He does not seem to be ill or in distress."

Fugaku nodded curtly at his concerned wife, glanced at Ebisu, and walked out of the home. Ebisu paused, uncertain. "Go with him," Mikoto urged. "And congratulations on your promotion, dear." She smiled warmly at the newly promoted chūnin, who darted after Fugaku in a vain attempt to hide his reddened cheeks.

Itachi was sitting in the middle of the training ground, running small fingers through the well-kept grass. His childish face was rapturous, which was slightly uncharacteristic for him, but then he was surrounded by majestic trees and their lively animal inhabitants. "One of your teachers is here, son," Fugaku said, interrupting numerous bird calls and woodland chatter. "When you are done apologizing to him, your mother and I will have a few things to say."

The six-year-old smiled widely as his father departed. "I'm blind."

"What?" Ebisu blinked, sifting through the thirty seconds he had seen of the young boy. Itachi had had his eyes open when Fugaku and Ebisu had approached, although that was not the case now. "Are you feeling unwell, Itachi-kun? Did you hurt yourself?"

Itachi grinned, not opening his eyes. "No. I can see all the time. But if I open my eyes, I might wake up."

Ebisu shook his head—Itachi was reputed to be as eccentric as he was brilliant—and adjusted his glasses. "Do you mind taking your tests now, Itachi-kun? We are starting new material tomorrow, and you, especially, must not lag behind."

"Bring it."

"Er, right. The first test is an application of the tactics we have been exploring recently. Question one involves an escort mission. How would you arrange a typical genin team around their charge?"

The small Uchiha flopped backward. "I suppose I'd put the sensei with the charge and have the genin scout and flank him. Flank. Frank. It is flank, right?"

The curious, upturned face still did not open its eyes, and consequently missed Ebisu's puzzlement. Was Itachi feverish? It would explain the abnormal behavior. "Flanking is correct," Ebisu said carefully. "You know, Itachi-kun, I think it would be best if you stay after school tomorrow."

"Can I at least hear the next question?"

Well, the test had been taken from a pool of recent homework assignments. Itachi had answered each of them perfectly. "Imagine a different scenario with two jōnin, one chūnin, and three genin. Their camp is attacked by two S-ranked missing-nin with earth affinities. What is the best course of action?"

Itachi frowned. "There aren't any details? That's boring. Maybe I should wake up."

Now Ebisu was certain that the boy was feverish (Itachi's file had said something about a major childhood illness, and it would make sense that the Uchiha clan would try to hide that) and not capable of taking any tests. Still, it wouldn't hurt to indulge the prodigy's curiosity, and so Ebisu read the statistics and described the layout of the camp.

"Neat," smiled Itachi. "They could use the bat summons to reverse-summon themselves." It was very strange how even when he could be nothing but sick, Itachi could produce a plausible answer. Even if reverse-summoning would require forethought and twelve expensive seals.

"Very good. Now then, I will let you go home to eat in just a minute. I need to remove a genjutsu I placed on you a few minutes ago. It should be affecting your sense of smell, but—" He couldn't find it.

Itachi perked up. "Oh, that? I don't like ginger, so I got rid of it."

Ebisu checked again, but the genjutsu was gone as Itachi had said. He formed a few hand seals. "Please do it again, Itachi-kun."

Without so much as a twitch, the genjutsu disappeared. Ebisu jumped.

"What is it?" Itachi asked, dark eyes snapping open in surprise. He frowned, taking in his surroundings keenly. "Ebisu-sensei? Is there a problem?"

Ebisu shook his head. "You performed better than I thought was possible, Itachi-kun. I will see you tomorrow. Good night!"

Dark eyes stared after the chūnin in confusion. "Sensei?"

It used to be a dream to me. But then, why wouldn't it be? A foreign life where I could not see—where opening my eyes often woke me up.

I was young, then, and I thought that my strange dreams were a byproduct of too many nights spent reading and watching fiction. Perhaps I was right, perhaps not. At the very least, I was happy that my own parents did not hold me to impossible standards.

I thought it was odd that other children my age dreamed in more than just taste, touch, smell, and sound. It would be strange to not wake up when I opened my eyes. How did they know when it was a good time to leave?

I couldn't always control when I woke up, of course. Most nights, my dream body even moved and spoke on its own. I never minded, for who would dislike not having to decide what to say every second?

Fortunately, the force that usually controlled my dream body—Itachi, I, or perhaps he, was called—always knew what to say. He wasn't a perfect child.

But he was kind and good and was motivated by the same love for living beings that I cherished.

I grew up with him, and learned that his life was not the same as mine. Childishly, I loved him anyway. I never managed to talk to him, but I considered him my friend.

"I can see!"

The genin trying to punch Itachi in the face scowled as yet again, the Uchiha dodged. "Why don't you ever stand still, you blasted kid!"

Sharingan eyes regarded their opponent appraisingly. "Perhaps if you would, I might."

"Please do not insult our teammate, Jo-kun," a feminine voice reproved. Its owner—a stunning, blonde Aburame—went straight for the back of Jo's neck. The boy jumped to the side, leaving an opportunity for Itachi's fist.

Jo flew several feet until he collided with a tree. Itachi's hand flew to his mouth. "I'm sorry!" he yelped, darting to the larger boy's side. "I didn't think—I'm sorry. I—" Jo's fist rammed into the smaller boy's stomach, sending the Uchiha across the small clearing.

"Oh, shut up," the teenage genin said, rising to his feet. "You're supposed to be a prodigy, not a pansy, Uchiha. Do those dumb red eyes make you a sissy or what? Get up and take it like a—" The girl's kick sent him into a low branch.

"Both of you, knock it off," she said serenely. "Sensei will be back from patrolling soon, and we need to be ready for his orders. Itachi-kun, you should watch for sensei. Jo-kun—"

"Unconscious," the Uchiha reported from his perch beside Jo.

"You wish!" Jo roared, going for another punch. Itachi caught it and whacked his opponent's temple.

"For heaven's sake," the girl sighed, "would you stop being such boys? You're on the same genin team, for crying out loud."

Itachi blinked, losing the Sharingan, and his demeanor changed instantly. "Jo-kun appears to be unconscious."

"Yes, you've already established that."

If I recall correctly, I wanted to know what Itachi's name meant. In his world, I thought it meant some kind of rodent. I also wanted to see it typed out in orthographic English, not just my head. So I typed "Etache" into the search engine and puzzled over pages of results in French before figuring I'd probably misspelled it. I tried again, this time finding the proper spelling.

The images were what I saw first. My eyes glued to the haunted, self-assured, sad, wise eyes of the animated figure. It was older, but it couldn't be anything but him, and I clicked on the images link with a horrible thrill of fear. It was him, but he was a dream. Perhaps the most realistic dream in human memory, but still nothing more than a part of me that shouldn't be online. At the same time, I didn't care—he was right in front of me. Half of my life was suddenly completely visible and frighteningly new.

I didn't want to go back to the main search results. What if all the pictures of him disappeared? Then this would be my very first normal dream, I realized, and clicked the back button.

"Itachi Uchiha," the first result read, "was a prodigy of Konohagakure's Uchiha clan. He became an international criminal after murdering his entire clan. . . ."

I began to cry.

How could something so real . . . not be real?

Red eyes peered through the ANBU mask, numbly taking in a fastidious scene of corpses. Itachi knelt next to one of them an instant later, checking the faint pulse with an odd degree of hesitation. "This one is alive," he said quietly, as if he himself hadn't just sent six kunai into five eyes and one bruised temple.

"Good work," his captain replied. "I'm going to find the rest of them. Find out who their target is." Kakashi vanished.

Itachi squatted the rest of the way, shoving his earpiece's occasional terse comment out of his mind. "I'm sorry," he mouthed to the unconscious man, sliding the eyelids open with shaky fingers. As the blood slowly congealed on five corpses' faces, Itachi's eyes hardened and began to spin.

"I really wish you'd gone for the woman," he mouthed bitterly. "But I guess you thought death would be kinder."

"They're closing in on the targets," Kakashi's voice warned through the earpiece, prompting the young ANBU to break the memory jutsu and shudder.

"It's a little girl with blue hair," Itachi responded, voice clipped. "She's from Konoha."

"I see her. Tiger, flank them. I'll cover the girl. Weasel, clean things up and join Cobra."

Strong fingers trembled as they wrapped around the sixth kunai. The Sharingan blinked desperately off. The earpiece crackled again. "Weasel? Keep him alive for questioning. The target just sprouted wings. Come immediately."

Itachi, of course, had kept the sixth man alive for that sole reason, but since Kakashi already seemed to know which person to protect, it hardly mattered now. He was also curious how Kakashi had reached the caravan so quickly, but such questions were irrelevant. The young ANBU brandished his eyes on the unconscious man for a moment and vanished into the trees.

I hated the deaths. He was expected to be ruthless, a killer with no hesitation or concern. I knew that while he had purged himself of hesitation, his care for people would always linger. But we were different, he and I. He lived in an environment that trained and required him to kill. I lived in a country where movies were the best way to experience violence. I was not squeamish by either world's standard, but I knew I would never be capable of taking a life. It was hard enough imagining that one day, I might wake up to Itachi's hands pulling a sword out of someone.

I shut the deaths out of my waking thoughts and tried to ignore the tears I was always left with. His world was fictional, after all. Not so much to me, perhaps, but at least I wasn't him.

I didn't want to be him.

It was sporadic at first, but my dreams came to be more involved with the Sharingan's activation and less with Itachi's everyday life. I found myself trapped in his head more often than not, still unable to physically move or speak, and still unable to communicate mentally with him. I lived through events months before their existences were officially confirmed.

I began to accept his life for what it was.

I wondered what was wrong with mine.

Did Kishimoto have this problem, too?

Crossed arms, the soothing shiver of a night breeze. Leaves falling like whispers of forgotten times and echoes of the forest's laughter. "Shisui-kun?" Itachi's voice, quiet and sure, but hushed, as if he were musing about terribly huge thoughts with only seconds to spare them.

"Come with me."

Dancing through treetops. A waterfall, pounding its dull rhythm into muted rocks far below. "It's too late to stop the coup d'état." Words, words of pain and plans and preservation.

A squelching sound. Shisui, a pained voice whispers.

"You're the only person I can count on, my best friend. Please protect this village and the honor of the Uchiha name."

Anticipation ripples, and the air is filled with the beating of wings. Power, pure potential. A thrill. The gift of vision, revealing a dark-haired teenager whose eyelids are redder than the Sharingan had ever made them before. "I accept it. What will you do now?"

Blood drips down his cheeks and off his chin, but Shisui is impassive. "If I die, several circumstances will change. I've left behind a note already." He steps away, toward the cliff face. Itachi's body realizes, senses and begins to—

NO! STAY!

"Wait, Shisui!" Hurt. Confused. Refusal. Denial. He stays back, giving Shisui the benefit of a doubt.

"Don't stop me, Itachi." Accepting.

A lunge, terrifying if one could not see, but Itachi's Sharingan can see too well as his hand misses and his best friend falls willingly into the waters below. "Shisui!"

It is too late, and Shisui, the voice breathes, and then there is heartrending pain and dark and tears that smell of blood.

Blood?

"Shisui."

Am I bleeding? Ow.

"What?" Itachi says, everything raw from grief.

Because seriously, that feels like two black eyes at once, which is a feat because I don't really feel pain in these dreams.

"Who's there?" he asks harshly, and red eyes snap open to survey the landscape.

I'm here, not there, silly.

"You're in my head?" Itachi asks in disbelief.

Well, when you put it that way—

It no longer matters, for Itachi dissolves in a coughing fit and curses whatever fate has been doling out today's irony.

Please don't.

The Sharingan winks out to save precious chakra, chakra that has fought to keep Itachi alive his entire life. By the time the coughing subsides, Shisui's body has floated downriver. Itachi spends the rest of the night in lonely vigil. He doesn't wipe the reddish liquid from his cheeks.

Thanks to him, I had chosen the path of a medical student. I wanted to save him. It had to be possible. Unfortunately, he was prone to relapses and I knew the circumstances of his death meant he would probably die from his disease.

I didn't care. He was savable. He was worth it.

I had a few years to study before the crazy timeline of his life reached its end, I estimated. I could get a degree and move on to researching his disease. It would destroy the plot, but if worst came to it, I could convince him to fake his death.

That I could talk to him now thrilled me. I wanted him to live.

Steroids, Itachi's mind whispered as he changed into cleaner pants the next morning.

He paused. "What?"

The medicine you need, if I'm right. It needs to be combined with cyclophosphamide or even methotrexate. But that's only if it's microscopic polyangitis.

"My condition does not have a name, nor does it have serious symptoms." Although, a small part of him argued, mental conversations with his consciousness could definitely be a symptom.

Of course not. My hours of research are only a coincidence, never mind that it all matches up.

"I've never heard of those medicines."

Shoot, I was hoping you wouldn't say that. Now I'll have to figure out a way to find them.

"Who are you, to know all this? Only my parents know of my condition."

Put two and two together, genius.

Itachi mulled it over as he left his room and conversed with Sasuke. Perhaps he was going insane. But his mind was blissfully quiet for a few minutes, until the thoughts grew tired of his conversation and announced, They'll suspect you. Best friends don't just drop dead, least of all in this family. We'll have to cover for him. Scant seconds later, the house shook. Sasuke and Itachi jerked, a habit the older brother hadn't indulged in for a long time. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Is Itachi in there?" a grating male voice asked at a decibel that was a startling mixture of fingernails on a chalkboard and Kakashi's largest dog when it growled. "Get out here; we need to talk."

The brothers stood, exchanging glances. "You should stay in the house," Itachi said quietly.

Three Uchiha clansmen stood in the entryway, glaring. Itachi walked through the doorway, graceful and collected as ever. "What is the matter? Why are you all here?" He wondered how long it would be before the thoughts resurfaced with another disturbingly predictive opinion.

The angriest man, a man with long, dark hair and eyebrows that were drawn low enough to multitask as eyelashes, met the teenager's eyes. "Two people didn't show up at last night's meeting. Why weren't you there?"

Shisui, the thoughts commented. He picked the only time that no one would come looking.

Itachi didn't want to deal with last night's events, but repercussions were bound to happen eventually, and as Shisui's closest friend, the fingers of blame would have found him before too long. At least the police force didn't seem to have figured out the details.

"I can understand that you've been occupied with various missions since you joined the ANBU," the long-haired Uchiha continued. "Your father told us how often you're called away on sudden missions, and that he's looking over you. However—"

The second, white-headed Uchiha picked up the slack. "We're not your father. We have no intention of treating you any differently."

This isn't about the meeting, the voice decided, picking through the details with ease that Itachi didn't feel at the moment. They're accusing you, because you didn't exactly send a shadow clone alibi strolling through the village last night. But on the other hand, at least they don't suspect Danzō. Its tone changed, losing the contemplative manner in favor of something akin to desperation. Take the blame.

Itachi's eyes closed. "I understand. I'll be more careful from now on." He sighed imperceptibly. "If that is all, please feel free to leave."

"Of course. But before we do, there's just one more thing you need to answer."

The faith of the clan.

Itachi met their eyes without flinching, suspecting that this would the last time he'd ever meet any of his clansmen's eyes without being overwhelmed by guilt.

"It's regarding the suicide by drowning in the Nanako River last night, of Uchiha Shisui. Do you know anything about it?"

Sasuke gasped quietly from his position behind the doorway.

How dare they? Shisui was one of the best in this world—a kind, loyal man who thought about people, not one selfish clan.

Itachi drowned out the enraged ranting, taking the suicide note (Even his handwriting's probably better than theirs!) and watching them leave. They glanced at each other as they walked away, leaving no question as to what they suspected. The rant died into nothing, as if it were slightly ashamed of itself. They have no idea, the voice finished softly.

Itachi's fist clenched around the note. "Why don't you be more direct?" Three clansmen stopped. Three Sharingan turned to face a fourth. "Are you suspicious of me? You believe I had a hand in this, don't you?"

"Yeah, you little brat."

What did he call us?

"Listen, Itachi," the white-haired one explained, distinguishing himself as either the stupidest or the most rational of the group. "If we find you've betrayed this clan, you won't go unpunished."

Betray? Since when can one betray betrayers? They don't hold a candle to— Itachi lunged.

"As I just said, don't judge others simply by your preconceptions and judgments of their appearance. You foolishly assumed that I have patience. The clan, the clan. You all failed to measure your own capacity, and to see the depth of my capacity, and as a result you lie beaten here, groveling in the dirt." His Sharingan flashed. The second set of thoughts was silent, but perhaps it had merged with Itachi's own.

Itachi's opponents lay on the ground, trembling. "Sh—Shisui was told to keep an eye on you," one of them growled. "Within half a year of your joining ANBU, your actions and speech were getting stranger than ever. It was impossible to overlook." He spat on the ground, preparing to launch into another angry speech.

Heh, whoops.

"What exactly are you thinking?!"

Itachi, or possibly the strange thoughts, glared. "You hold on to the organization: your clan, your name, your lineage. These things limit you and limit your capacities. These things deserve to be shunned. It is foolish to fear what we've yet to see and know!"

Itachi was angry enough to kill, and for once, he didn't hide his emotions. Shisui had left him to cope by himself. The ugliest emotions of the Uchiha clan were surfacing with unfamiliar speed. His Sharingan flashed.

"Stop!" But it was only Fugaku, sounding pained and very old. "Itachi! Stop it already. What in the world is wrong?" The head of police took in his battered subordinates and shook his head helplessly. "Itachi, you've been acting strange lately."

"Nothing's strange. I'm just carrying out my duty."

"Then," Fugaku paused, searching for a way to diffuse the tension, "why did you not come last night?"

"In order to reach the height. . . ."

One of the clansmen on the paving stones scowled. "The what?"

A kunai—Itachi's—slammed into the center of one of the walls' many Uchiha fans. Itachi hadn't looked up. "Of my capacity," he finished flatly. "I've had enough. I've lost all hope for this pathetic clan."

Pathetic. Yes, that's the word I was looking for. "You forget what is most important to you because you cling to something small like your clan. True change cannot be made if it is bound by laws and limitations, predictions and imagination."

The man growled. "What arrogance!"

It's common sense, you shallow man.

"Enough already!" Fugaku commanded, wary eyes on his son. He helped his men to their feet. "If you continue this nonsense, we will have to take you to jail." Fugaku had not activated his Sharingan, but the head of Konoha's police was reputed to be one of the village's top genjutsu users. Men flanking him, he stared down his son. "So, what now?"

One of the Uchiha cracked. "We can't put up with this anymore! Captain, please order an arrest!"

Itachi's mind was silent. Resentment and animosity bled together.

"Stop, Brother!" Sasuke. He had to protect Sasuke. Sasuke meant the world to him. "Brother, you have to stop!"

Itachi sank to the ground, fighting indignance valiantly. "It is not me who has killed Shisui, but for the words I have spoken, I am deeply sorry." He deactivated his Sharingan, watching minuscule threads of chakra in the dirt disappear.

Huh. I'm still here.

Itachi listened to his father defend and protect his older son. The voice had other interests. I never imagined I would try to keep any sort of incrimination off Danzō. That was not the plan.

Itachi waited until he was alone to comment. "Oh, and what was your plan?"

If only, it replied.

That was the day that taught me the reality of the Mangekyō's influence. My life in his world was no longer limited to the time of my dreams. His awakening the Mangekyō meant that every second of my sleep itself could pull me into the Sharingan. I had to live every second of his eyes' activation, no matter how quickly I woke up. Falling asleep inevitably returned me to the point I'd left off.

That was the day my world began to burn. My grades began dropping, for what interest did years of school hold when Uchiha Itachi filled every moment of my sleeping life? I hunted the Internet for every detail and theory I could find. My days and nights were spent in a frenzied pace of school and ignoring the general human population. Where I should have slept more, I found myself resorting to caffeine. I didn't want every single nap to take me to his life.

My dreams were still not limited to the Sharingan's use, but I no longer skipped a single activation. His days were full of death. I hated it. I considered abandoning my search for a cure nearly every waking moment, in every precious moment I had to myself.

When I nodded off during my A&P final and found myself in the midst of an ANBU slaughter mission, I caved. I forced myself to sleep at night, no matter the fear. It seemed to me that when I shut my eyes, the Sharingan forced them open.

Wait, the voice called, bringing Itachi to a stop. That little blonde boy, the one skulking behind those stairs.

Itachi humored it, readjusting an armguard as he scanned the boy discreetly. "Yes?"

He looks pretty lonely for a child important enough to have an ANBU guard.

"I don't see one," Itachi said, turning so that the young boy wouldn't see the Sharingan whirl into existence. "Where?"

One street over. I recognized his chakra signature. It's also suppressed.

"That's hardly proof."

I'm wounded, the voice drawled. I did see an ANBU, and I've seen this particular boy shadowed before. Not by you, but that's understandable.

"Why is he alone?"

I don't know, the voice said. I do know that you don't believe me, so why don't you offer to feed him or something? Guards are easier to spot in public places.

As Itachi approached the small boy, thin wrists and arms became more apparent. Perhaps the voice was bluffing in an attempt to do a good deed? It hardly mattered. Had Itachi seen the child without the voice's prompting, he would have at least given the child a food pill. Children in Konoha were supposed to be protected.

There's a ramen stand close by, the voice supplied when the child asked what kind of food, and if there were vegetables. Itachi had been intending to find something nutritious. It's in a central, easily locatable place, and it's cheap. He hesitated.

"Well, mister?" the boy demanded. "Vegetables are evil!"

"Ramen," Itachi said.

"What's that?"

The voice choked. He doesn't know what ramen is yet? What has he been doing with his life?

"Enjoying it, no doubt," Itachi said before he caught himself. To the boy, he explained, "It's mostly noodles. No vegetables at all. If you don't like it, we can find something else."

The boy nodded suspiciously and followed Itachi to the voice's ramen stand. Instead of buying a meal with vegetables, Itachi let the child choose for himself and raised an eyebrow when the boy cackled over his fishcakes and finished the bowl without stopping for air. It was almost surprising that the ANBU in a nearby tree didn't jump out and attack Itachi for attempted murder.

We've created a monster, the voice lamented. This was hardly an endearing statement. It didn't have to foot the bill. Really, it had no responsibilities whatsoever.

The most disturbing part of my dreams, to me, was the way their world kept happening exactly as one man had dictated. Naruto's obsession with ramen was irrelevant, and yet somehow I had given him his distinctive earmark. Was I actually a part of canon? Canon wasn't a life I wanted Itachi to live.

Regardless, I could not risk changing it.

For the last time, stop ignoring me. I know you're distraught. Whoever you're looking for is going to sense your chakra and leave, Itachi. Stop.

Itachi paused on a tree branch, checking its bark for remnants of a faint chakra trail. "You know who we're looking for." He flicked a patch of moss away and prodded the old chakra mark in the wood. "He's been using this route for a while."

Yes, I know you're tracking Eye of the Tiger Mask Dude. You won't find him while your chakra is fluctuating this badly.

"I have to," Itachi replied, straightening.

Itachi, the voice snapped, sit down!

He sat.

And now you are going to tell me everything, because this is pathetic.

"It's completely pathetic," Itachi whispered. "I've spent my life trying to show the village why it should trust my clan. When Shisui died, I gave up."

That was more my fault than yours. I shouldn't—

"I gave up. I failed. And now they all have to die."

The Hokage. . . .

"Danzō gave me an ultimatum. He kills the Uchiha, or I can save Sasuke." Suddenly, finding Uchiha Madara no longer seemed important. Living didn't seem important.

No. The voice sounded horrified. No. You did not go through a meeting with Danzō without activating your Sharingan.

What? But—I don't care if that would have threatened him. He's clearly already feeling threatened. I should have been there.

"Nothing would have changed," Itachi growled. Danzō had made it clear that there were no other options. "He was determined."

I'm determined. There must be a way around this. We are not going to be the victim of an either-or fallacy.

"No, we're going to be the villain. We're going to keep Sasuke out of this by any means necessary. We need help if we are to do this."

So you think it's the only way.

Itachi stood and leaped to the ground, chakra masked perfectly.

Okay, then I trust your instinct. But I refuse to believe that the entire clan has to die. I wouldn't put it past Danzō to steal a few corpses while we're busy. Or the masked man, for that matter. We'll have to do something while they're busy to even things out.

"Living people are hard to hide."

Well, there are always risks.

It was a day trip. A celebration of my completion of another year with grades that never dropped as drastically as I'd thought. One perfect, idyllic day with my parents—and one short moment where I realized that the car I was driving was no longer on a road but instead falling into a chasm so deep that even Itachi would not survive it. I never took my last chance to scream. I was never given a last chance to cry.

My chance to live now belonged to a world that only imparted death.

Perhaps I truly belonged to it.

"You've been ignoring me," Itachi said softly.

Activating the Sharingan is hardly going to draw me out. But thank you for noticing. Nice try.

They both fell silent, content to watch Sasuke determinedly throw kunai as his classmates relaxed and ate lunch.

"I love my family," Itachi confessed. "No matter what they've done. They're my family."

The voice said nothing, apparently happy to continue its long silent streak.

Itachi trembled. I can't do this alone.

There was a silence. You have me, the voice said hesitantly.

I wasn't alone.

But I was.

"It's time." Gently, Itachi closed his locker for the last time, leaving behind the photograph he'd wanted to take with him. A memory of him and Sasuke was not something he could afford to bring with him to the Akatsuki. Besides, the voice had muttered in one of its rare moments of verbosity, the harder he trains, the quicker he'll be in the bingo book.

Itachi slipped his mask on and left the ANBU headquarters behind. Those of his colleagues who saw him nodded at him politely.

Bye, Kakashi, said the voice. It sounded so wistful that Itachi was almost tempted to remind it of its perpetual dislike of Chidori.

And then they were standing inside the main gate.

Tiger Lily will have started at the police station already, the voice murmured. We need to be gone before Sasuke gets tired of training, remember?

He loved his brother. He loved his brother enough to sacrifice Sasuke's happiness for a lie. And yet . . . Sasuke would not believe that his beloved older brother would do such a thing. I can't let him find out, Itachi thought desperately.

The voice was calm and collected. Then we'll show him what to find.

Death.

Genjutsu after genjutsu designed to induce cerebral ischemia, followed by blades coated in a decomposing poison. Blood splashing everywhere, staining Itachi but hidden by a minor genjutsu.

He could hear nearly imperceptible grunts and crashes as the masked man slaughtered jōnin and children alike. The sound genjutsu is failing, the voice informed him, but I doubt it matters anymore. Few were still alive to hear, it meant.

Yakumi collapsed onto his sister's prone form and coughed one final time. Itachi moved the corpse off the girl and reached for a pulse. Stable, he reported.

She doesn't have the Sharingan, the voice replied, and Itachi rushed through hand seals that would place the girl in a coma. It took longer to seal her into a storage scroll, but he refused to take any chances with an innocent's life.

He stuck a poisoned kunai in the body of a deceased orphan girl he'd stolen from the morgue and blew a fireball at the two corpses.

Roof, the voice urged, insistent on locating the masked man. Itachi jumped onto a utility pole . . . and there was Sasuke, running home. Oh, no, please.

Itachi was far more composed, caught in a strange, unearthly moment of disbelief. I should have told you before all this happened, but it's too late now. Sasuke. . . .

Our parents! the voice remembered, and they leapt away. Somewhere very faint and muffled by the dying genjutsu, a child screamed. The genjutsu finally gave way.

And he could hear his parents breathing peacefully even as he landed behind them. "I see," said his father. "So you joined their side."

There was no accusation in his voice, just simple acceptance.

"Father . . . Mother, I . . ." said Itachi. I can't, he finished. There are more scrolls. We can take them somewhere safe. This can't—

"We know, Itachi," Mikoto cut him off.

Was that why tonight's clan meeting had been postponed? A perfect circumstance? A choice to die with honor? A chance to save Sasuke?

They won't let you, croaked the voice. They're your parents. They love you. Obey them one last time.

Fugaku spoke again, calmer than he had ever been in the years following the Kyūbi's attack. "Itachi, promise me that you will take care of Sasuke."

Sasuke, currently running home. Sasuke, the brother he had to protect by leaving alone. My brother, the voice whispered.

A tear slipped down Itachi's cheek. "I know." This was it. This was where he had to end his parents' lives.

Fugaki must have heard his son's fingers trembling. "Don't hesitate. It's the path you chose. Our pain will only last an instant, unlike yours." The voice in Itachi's head began sobbing quietly. Fugaku continued. "The way we think is different, but I'm still proud of you." He relaxed completely, nearly smiling. "You really are gentle."

The tears were ruining Itachi's grip on his ninjatō.

You have me, the voice promised softly.

He steadied the hilt against his chest plate and honored his parents' wish. And his world shattered beyond control.

It wasn't fair to him. He was the killer, proven capable of killing his entire clan. He was the one who'd spent his entire lifetime preparing for an eternity of death.

And then there was me. I'd spent more time mourning his every kill than he'd spent training his impeccable aim. I was weak towards death. But I'd known this day was coming since the day I'd read his future. I'd realized that I, too, would have to kill, and so I had mustered the willpower to get him through this.

One of us would have to protect him now, and he was shattered in so many places that the only thing not broken was his breaking point, and that was me, and I had already gone farther than could be possible.

I would have to be more than just his eyes until he healed.

~And that's a wrap. Thank you for reading this to the end, and since you've come this far, it really wouldn't be much more effort to leave some feedback. You can tell me what you think, since I've already shared what I thought. Maybe this gave you some new perspective. Maybe you thought the changing narration was odd. Perhaps you have some clever ideas for what might happen next. Perhaps you have a sneaky comment to make about how I didn't specify the self-insert's gender.

I spent quite a bit of time and effort on this concept. The more I wrote, the more I realized that my own opinion was changing, and that this story was going to be both long and hard to pull off. I hope that my work has been enjoyed by at least a few people, and thank you again for reading this first chapter.

Thanks also goes to this story's beta, UnsightlyDreams. Talk about working on a deadline . . . and with so much to go through, too. If you're a human, you should go and check out UnsightlyDreams' stories. If you're not human, go read them anyway. (Advertisements aside, you would not have understood one word of this fic without such an understandable beta. And if you were confused anyway, I'll take that blame, thank you very much.)

This is a three-shot. Therefore, I have a lot of ground to cover and cannot guarantee a timely update. But I can guarantee more horrible puns for the titles. See ya! ;)