Chapter 11: The Aftermath
"Brother?" Sasuke's voice was a broken, disbelieving whisper. He clutched his bleeding shoulder where Itachi's shuriken had grazed him, pinning his sleeve to the wall. "Brother… why are Mom and Dad… why? How could this happen? Who did this?"
The answer was not words. Itachi's eyes, those familiar, loving eyes, swirled and morphed into a monstrous, terrifying pattern—the Mangekyo Sharingan. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. He forced the horrific truth directly into their minds.
Ren and Sasuke were plunged into a hellish vision. They saw Itachi, moving with cold, brutal efficiency. They saw their clansmen fall before his blade, their faces frozen in shock and betrayal. They saw the familiar streets of their home run red. They were forced to witness the massacre, over and over again, each death a fresh wound on their souls.
"Ahhh! Stop! Brother, don't show me! Stop!" Sasuke screamed, collapsing to his knees and clutching his head, trying to block out the unbearable images.
Ren remained silent, still clutching his mother's cold body, but his own silent sobs hitched as the horrific visions invaded his mind, layering new trauma over his immediate grief.
The illusion broke as suddenly as it began. Sasuke slumped on the ground, his spirit shattered, his eyes vacant and dull. "Why…" he rasped, the word scraping from his throat. "Why did you do it… Brother…"
"To test my capacity," Itachi stated, his voice flat, devoid of any humanity. It was the voice of a stranger.
"To test your… capacity? Just for that… just for that, you killed everyone?!" Sasuke's disbelief curdled into raw, incandescent rage. He pushed himself up, his small body trembling.
"This is very important," Itachi replied, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if the conversation was a tedious obligation.
"What? Stop joking!" Sasuke roared, lunging forward with a fist raised.
Itachi moved faster than sight. A single, precise punch to Sasuke's solar plexus drove the air from his lungs and sent him crumpling back to the floor, gasping and retching.
"It's not you… it can't be you, Brother… because…" Sasuke whimpered, still trying to reject the reality before him.
"I have always acted the part of the perfect brother for a single purpose: to measure your potential," Itachi recited, his words a cold, pre-prepared script. "You possess the possibility of becoming my worthy opponent. That is the only reason you are still alive. To open your eyes, as I have, you must fulfill a special condition. You must kill your closest friend. Just as I did."
"Really… Brother… you killed… Shisui?"
"Yes. That is how I obtained this power." Itachi's gaze was unwavering. "In the main hall of the Naka Shrine, beneath the seventh tatami mat from the right, lies the clan's secret meeting place. There, you will find the Uchiha tablet. It holds the original records of our clan's ocular jutsu… and the true secret of our existence. If you open your eyes, there will be four of us who have mastered the Mangekyo. Only then will your life have meaning."
He looked down at his broken brothers. "But now… you are not even worth killing. Foolish little brother. If you wish to kill me, then hate me. Despise me. And run away… run away, and cling to your pathetic life. Then someday, when you have the same eyes as I do… come before me."
His Mangekyo Sharingan activated once more, not with the prolonged torture of Tsukuyomi, but with a simpler, overpowering genjutsu. The world swam and went black for both Ren and Sasuke. They collapsed into unconsciousness on the blood-soaked floor.
The moment they lost consciousness, the air in the room wavered and distorted. A figure clad in a black cloak with a swirling orange mask materialized from nothingness beside Itachi.
"Finished?" the masked man asked, his voice muffled and oddly hollow.
Itachi didn't answer. His cold facade cracked for a single, heart-rending second as he looked down at his brothers, his eyes filled with an ocean of unbearable pain and love. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel⁂fire.net
The masked man followed his gaze but said nothing more. He simply placed a hand on Itachi's shoulder. The space around them twisted into a spiral vortex, sucking them both inward until they vanished without a trace, leaving only the chilling silence and the scent of blood and rain.
*"Ren… Ren… wake up."*
The voice was gentle, familiar. A balm on his shattered soul.
Ren's eyes fluttered open. He was standing in a field of soft light. Not far away, Uchiha Mikoto stood, smiling at him with infinite tenderness.
*"Ren, you must take care of yourself from now on. Mother is leaving."*
*"Leaving?"* Panic seized him. *"Where are you going? Don't go!"*
*"Hehe… Take care of yourself. And take care of Sasuke."* She didn't answer his question. She only repeated her gentle admonition, her smile never fading. Then she turned and began to walk away.
*"Mother! Mother, wait!"* Ren tried to run after her, but his legs were leaden. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't close the distance. He could only watch, helpless, as her form grew smaller and smaller, until she dissolved into the light.
Ren's eyes snapped open. He was lying in a sterile white bed, his body drenched in a cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs. The sharp, clean smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and the three tomoe of his Sharingan spun wildly without his conscious command before receding.
A dream…? It was just a dream? The relief was so potent it was dizzying. He took several deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.
He pushed himself up, looking around the unfamiliar, sterile room. *A hospital? Why am I in a hospital?*
Then, the memories returned. Not as a dream, but as a vicious, physical assault.
His mother, cold and lifeless in his arms.
"Ahhh!" Ren screamed, clutching his head as the pain of the memories lanced through his skull. "No! It's not real! It can't be real! Mother! MOTHER!"
Ignoring the blinding pain, he scrambled out of bed, his limbs weak and uncoordinated. He stumbled out of the room into a white hallway. He saw Sasuke then, leaning against a wall further down the corridor, his face pale, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Two nurses were speaking to him in hushed, concerned tones.
Ren didn't process it. He didn't care. He had to get out. He had to go home. This was all a mistake. He ran, shoving past orderlies, his bare feet slapping against the cold linoleum floor. He heard voices calling after him, Sasuke's among them, but they were just noise. He burst through the hospital's main doors and into the late afternoon air.
He ran. He ran with every ounce of strength he had left, driven by a desperate, fading hope that it had all been a nightmare. He would burst through the door of his house and Mikoto would be there, smiling. *"Ren, you're back! Dinner is almost ready!"*
He skidded to a halt at the entrance to the Uchiha compound.
His last shred of hope was annihilated.
The gate was cordoned off with thick, yellow warning tape that read 'CRIME SCENE - DO NOT ENTER.' The vibrant, bustling streets were deathly still and empty. The air itself felt heavy, thick with grief and absence.
Ren fell to his knees on the wet pavement, his hands scraping against the rough ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears came anyway, streaming down his face in a silent, hopeless torrent.
*It hurts… Why does it hurt so much?* he thought, his mind reeling. *I knew this day would come. I knew the outcome. I built walls so I wouldn't feel this! So why? Why does it feel like my heart is being torn out?*
Images of Mikoto flooded his mind. Her smile. The way her eyes crinkled when she looked at him. Her gentle voice greeting him each day. Her unwavering care, even in the face of his cold indifference. He realized, with a agony more acute than any physical wound, that he had been lying to himself. He wasn't detached. He was utterly, completely dependent on her love. He had needed it more than air.
"Aghhhh!" he wailed, the sound raw and torn from the depths of his being. Regret, thick and suffocating, drowned him. He hated himself. He regretted every time he had shrugged off her affection, every time he had answered her kindness with a flat, emotionless word, every time he had chosen isolation over the love she so freely offered.
*How I wish you were here now,* he thought, his body shaking. *I would kneel and beg your forgiveness. I would tell you I'm sorry. I would tell you I love you.*
But it was too late. The chance was gone, forever.
"Mother! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Forgive me! I was wrong! I KNOW I WAS WRONG! FORGIVE ME, MOTHER!" he screamed his repentance to the uncaring, grey sky.
As if in cruel mockery of his pain, the sky opened up. A cold, heavy rain began to fall, soaking him to the bone in seconds. Ren didn't move. He knelt in the downpour, his cries of anguish mixing with the sound of the rain, his tears indistinguishable from the droplets streaming down his face. Finally, exhausted, hollowed out, and broken, he pitched forward, collapsing unconscious into a puddle on the rain-slicked street.
Sasuke, who had followed him from the hospital, watched his twin's devastating breakdown from the shadows of a nearby building. His own heart was a knot of grief and fury, but seeing Ren's complete shattering added a new layer of desolation. Despite their rivalry, they were brothers. They were all each other had left in the world now—that, and a shared, burning hatred for the one who had taken everything from them.
Gritting his teeth, Sasuke walked out into the rain. He knelt, and with great effort, he hauled Ren's unconscious form onto his back. Straining under the weight, he began the long, slow, miserable walk back through the rain to the hospital, each step fueled by a vow of vengeance that was now the only thing keeping him upright.