The blood of his family is still wet on his sword - on the floor, on his hands, in their hair, still dripping and bleeding. His little brother kneels at his feet, staring up at him. Sasuke. His face is red, red, red. His eyes are red.

Itachi is supposed to leave now. Leave his little brother here among the dead, alone. The walls of the village will protect him (except it never protected Itachi, not with the most powerful family in the village behind him), they promised him that.

Except. Here he stands. Unmoving. His orders reverberate in his head - pushing and pulling, he needs to move.

His little brother.