Chapter Text
The sight of his sister in a sorrowful monologue, removed from all reality, is frightfully nostalgic. “I don't know what else I was expecting,” she sighs to herself. “You were never going to be any different. No matter what happens, that’s who you’ll always be.”
Her words are a displeasing irritation. The look she gives him is worse. Even now, ten years later, he cannot help but become agitated when she looks at him like that.
“We have been apart for more than a decade, Sagi. You cannot speak as if you know me.”
“Can’t I?” Sagi’s lip curls wryly. Her jagged smile is familiar as ever. “I think I can.”
“And you are qualified to comment on who I am?” Itachi frowns and throws her words back at her. “What do you know about me? Can you decide who I’ll be?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. The one deciding that has always been you.”
Sagi’s rebuttal is unflinching. Itachi can’t make heads or tails of it. He furrows his brow and stares at her pensively.
“That's the thing, Itachi. You always decide,” Sagi says lowly. Her voice is perilously soft. “That’s been the problem from the start. In every life, you look around and see that you’re standing above others. No one’s on your level, so you never bother to slow down and listen to what they say.”
“...What are you talking about?”
“‘Others cannot be relied on,’” she quotes at him. “It’s your motto. That’s why you think isolating Sasuke will help him. That's why you think you can remake our little brother in your image—make him alone and better than anyone—so he'll be just as strong and unstoppable as you. Am I wrong?”
Itachi doesn’t answer her. He can’t; his attention has flicked towards her eyes. Activated by raw anger, her bloodline limit has manifested, and in all of a moment their pattern betrays a truth that brings everything together. A pair of red rings around black circles, spoked like ever-turning wheels… that is not the pattern of a mere Sharingan.
That is the Mangekyou.
“...Ten years ago,” Itachi says slowly, “when I was eight, I had a dream. You were dying. You were bleeding out from a stab wound… I held you in my arms until you passed.”
Sagi’s brow creases at the sudden non-sequitur, but she doesn’t speak. Itachi presses her. “Was that a dream?”
Her expression becomes shuttered. “...You said so yourself. What else could it be?”
“I have a theory. I wondered about it for a long time, but after you died, I eventually stopped thinking about it. Until today, that is…”
Sagi just looks at him. Itachi looks back piercingly.
“‘He doesn't like me in this life, but he still thinks I was helpful,’” he recites. “That's what you said earlier. ‘In this life.’”
“I did.”
“Have you known Shisui in a different life?”
“What would you say if I have?”
Itachi activates his own Mangekyou. Then he lifts a hand and points to his eyes. “Then I would say that my dream was no dream at all. It was a memory. Transferred, I would guess, by a Mangekyou technique.”
There’s a heavy pause. Then Sagi murmurs, “I suppose it must have been. We did make eye contact at the end of the last loop. But I didn't realize that would happen… I’ve never used my Mangekyou on anyone but myself.” She's quiet for a long moment. Then she sighs. “That’s right. My Mangekyou ability allows me to send memories back to my past self. And, it would appear, to others as well…”
“That’s why you changed,” Itachi says. “That's why you were angry with me. That was the night of the Massacre… I was the one who killed you.”
“It wasn't the first time. I certainly intend for it to be the last, though.”
“After all these years, I finally understand why you faked your death. You did it to escape the aftermath of the coup. You knew what was coming.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
A long silence follows. Itachi waits patiently, but Sagi is prepared to outwait his waiting. And she does: she meets his eye, Mangekyou to Mangekyou, and refuses to speak first. Eventually he cracks.
“Explain to me,” Itachi says. His tone is mostly even—or it would have been, if not for the tiniest waver of anger beginning to bubble up beneath his voice.
You've lost your composure, she mocks in her head. But even in her head she can't bear to belittle him back. None of it is illogical, not his anger or hers. After countless cycles of dying and coming back to life after futile life, how could it be?
“What's there to explain?” she finally answers. “You spent two hundred years massacring the clan, and I spent two hundred years trying to stop you. It never worked, and I was tired, so I decided to cut my losses. That's all.”
“...That’s it?”
“That's plenty. I lived, Sasuke is okay, and even Shisui is here. It doesn't matter if he likes me or not,” she adds. “I'm just glad he's alive. This life is the first I’ve ever seen him get married. Neither of us lived long enough before.”
Itachi stares at her, astounded. And then, in a quiet voice she hasn’t heard him use since they were very, very young, he asks, “How is that plenty? You never said a word to me.”
“There wasn’t any point. It never changes anything.”
“Why would you say that? Sagi, what have you done? If I had known ahead of time—”
“You still would’ve killed us,” she says flatly. “It doesn't make a difference.”
Itachi is aghast at the wall of apathy before him. “I—Sagi, you can’t know that. You can’t withhold the truth from me and still say that. Why did you—”
His sister’s gaze hardly flickers, and Itachi’s next words stick in his throat. She’s not even registering his reaction. He can see it in her eyes. She’s read this script already; she knows his next line before he even says it.
They’ve had this conversation before.
“In every life I have seen, Itachi—in every timeline you were alive to make a choice—you have never chosen otherwise. Even when I did warn you, it was the same. It might be hard to believe, but it’s the truth. That’s why I’m always bitter about it,” she explains dryly. “You’d think I’d know better by now, but I never seem to learn my lesson.”
Itachi can’t seem to come to terms with her words. “That’s… not right. That can't be,” he insists. “That’s not a real choice. Not without a chance.”
Sagi can see his skin beginning to flush red. Is it anger, she wonders, or is it shame? She doesn’t know—they’ve never had this talk in conditions this controlled—but her brother is no fool. He’s smart enough to see the truth for himself.
“You already realize it, don’t you?” Sagi sighs at him. “You realize the nature of this eye. It doesn’t show me the future—it shows me time. And looking at time reveals the nature of choice.
“Your choice was real. It was the realest, even. It’s the choice freest and truest to yourself, because you made it in every circumstance, again and again. Even the times when Shisui lived—even when we fought you and the masked man together—you never chose differently.” She sighs again. “You always do it, and you always seem to regret it. Even if you never say it aloud, even if you never acknowledge your guilt to yourself, no matter how many times you see black and call it white… you know it will never be true. You know the choice was wrong.”
Itachi stares at her. He stares, and stares, and then he whispers, “Then why—”
Why didn't you stop me, he can’t finish saying. Her face crumples before he gets the chance. “Why didn’t I stop you?” she bursts out with a cry. “Are you asking me why? I’ll tell you why. Because I couldn’t! It was beyond my abilities. No matter what I did, no matter who I told, no matter what we tried! Always, always, always. It was always pointless.” Angrily, she lifts her free hand and rubs furiously at the tears on her face. “You’ve always been better than your peers, Itachi. You were better than the adults, too, who were always feuding. You knew the pride of the Uchiha would be their downfall.” She jabs a finger at him. “But so did we! We knew it too, and we tried to help. But no matter how we tried to reach you, you always decided it was better to rely on yourself instead. You ignore every hand that reaches out. You never believe anyone’s answer will ever be better than yours. You never listen! Fuck!”
Sagi’s chest is heaving. She throws up her arm and opens her mouth as if to scream, but the only noise she can make is a strangled, choking sob.
Eventually she finds her words again. “Fuck, Itachi,” she gasps. Then puts her head in her hand, racked. “After everything we went through, finally, we found an answer. We could’ve stopped them that time. We could have saved their lives. But you just didn’t listen.” She shakes her head again, over and over, until finally she whispers, “Enough. It’s enough. What can I do? What’s left to try? There’s nothing. It’s done.”
Itachi has no reply. He stares at her, dry-mouthed, in silence. Of course—what other response is there? He has made his choice a hundred times over. This time, she will make hers.
Gradually, she brings her breath back under control. Then she lifts her face. “You said,” she croaks, and then swallows, and then tries again. “You said Konoha… has complied with our demands.”
“...Yes, that’s right.”
“Very well,” Sagi mutters, and then straightens again. The effort of it is herculean. Her face is red and blotchy, and her shoulders are spasming with hiccups, but she reaches out for the authority of the Meikage and surrounds herself with it like a mantle. “I have received your report. As per my promise, I will keep my silence. If Konoha’s secrets are ever revealed, it will not be because of me.”
Itachi looks at her with disbelief. “Sagi—”
“Uchiha Itachi, your work here is done.”
Itachi, hearing the clear dismissal in these words, lifts his hand. “Sagi, wait,” he says urgently. “You can’t—”
“I decide who stays and goes in the Hidden Light,” she answers forcefully. “Your business here is done, and now you must depart. Go, Itachi of the Leaf. Return to the village for which you have sacrificed everything.”
“Sagi, please. It’s not over. The Uchiha—the clan, it’s here. It’s in Hikari.”
“And? Sasuke is the head, not you,” Sagi rebukes. “Do you think he will welcome you after you annihilated everyone? He will not. If a remnant of the Uchiha survives in the Light, it is nothing to you. You made yourself clanless. Your loss is of your own making.”
Itachi lowers his face. As he does, he listens. The splashing of ANBU diving in and out the lake has ceased; distant shouts of evacuating civilians are drifting through the air. And just beyond, only a shunshin away, scores of shinobi are awaiting his sister’s order.
“The cycle is ending now,” she tells him quietly, now with more composure. “I was given the answer long ago. Now I have the resolve to accept it. I never had the leeway to deliver you… I can only deliver myself. So now you must go, Itachi.”
She speaks with finality, and it is clear this is a last warning. The civilians have been sheltered, and she will fight without reserve now that they are gone. Blood will be shed if he lingers any longer.
“...Very well,” he says, and forces himself to swallow all the rest of what he wishes to say. He knows it’s not a given that Sagi will refrain from seeking his life. So long as Sasuke is in her care, killing Itachi will always be on the table. He’s done too much for her to decide otherwise.
He leaps into the boughs of the nearest tree. But even though the path of escape is open, he pauses. Sure death lies behind him—all the jounin and Special Forces besides, he knows he can't win against three pairs of Sharingan, especially if two of them are the Mangekyou. But he can't seem to help himself. He turns on the branch and looks back over his shoulder.
His sister is in tears, even worse than before, and is weeping openly into her hand. In all his life, Itachi has never once seen a look of such naked heartbreak on her face. The grief of it is palpable—grief like she cannot bear to let him go.
Alarmed, Itachi shifts as if to turn back. But when he does, Sagi lifts her naginata again. She takes it up with both hands and aligns its edge with his throat.
“I made myself brotherless,” she whispers aloud. “My loss is of my own making, too. If you were once mine, you have ceased to be so.”
“Sagi…”
“Go on, Itachi-nii.” Tears are dripping from her chin, but her gaze is determined. “Go. You… are free now, too. I’m sorry to have kept you.”
Itachi reaches out an arm towards her, but Sagi shakes her head. “Craving is a treadwheel,” she tells him. “You cannot stay here. Go.”
Several long seconds pass. Then, finally, Itachi turns away again. After a short pause, he leaps away into the next tree.
Sagi watches until the red clouds of his cloak vanish into the canopy. Once they're gone, she lowers her weapon. A shuddering sigh escapes her lips; for a long moment, she does nothing but stare into the trees. But eventually she lifts her arm and scrubs her face with her sleeve, thinking of her village. She’ll need the guard to reestablish a perimeter at once, and Lord Shiin surely requires further orders. They need to craft an explanation for the daimyou and the civilians… and Sasuke and Shisui are in need of urgent debriefing, too.
Turning away from the forest, now darkened as dusk falls, she faces instead towards the city. People are waiting for her. Slowly, she takes a step forward. Then she takes another. On the third stride, her pace quickens. Then at last she breaks into a run, flying freely back to the Light.