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When he awakens—gains consciousness again, opens his eyes in the Other Reality, in the past, the runes of the time-bending jutsu burning through his skin in excruciating pain—he's running through a corridor, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
The pain flickers in and out of existence, the black ink etched into his skin pulses gold, flooding the walls with bursts of light, before vanishing completely. In Sasuke’s eyes, the edges of the world ripple faintly, afterimages of light slithering through his vision like snakes. Even his footing feels uncertain, like he’s a fraction out of sync with the ground beneath him.
He stops running. The world holds still. His eyes flick down first—to his hands, his arms—searching for the marks, for any trace of gold. Nothing. His skin is clear. But his balance feels off. Lighter. His stance—wrong. Smaller limbs, less muscle, weaker chakra. His body is that of a twelve year old child. Which means—
It worked.
He lifts his head and the hallway sharpens into focus—the turn ahead, the doors lining the walls. He realizes where he is. And with that realization, a memory slams into place.
Running—
Turning the corner—
And then… him.
His jaw tightens. More details come to him. He was searching for Naruto at this guesthouse. With Jiraiya somewhere below. The Akatsuki ahead of them. And he knows exactly what comes next. His gaze shifts—to the door on the right he remembers knocking on. Naruto isn't there. He looks up, senses stretching outward—chakra signatures above. Three shinobi.
His heart skips once.
That presence.
Sasuke moves without thinking. His body is smaller, slower—but his control is absolute. The stairs blur beneath his feet as he takes the steps three at a time. The air shifts the higher he goes. Something tightens in his chest—not pain, not hesitation. Something deeper.
Itachi is here.
On the day Sasuke first saw him after the massacre. The turning point of his vengeance. Before he decided to join Orochimaru. He is going to meet him for the first time—again, now. Not as an enemy, but as the truth he has carried ever since he received it from Obito—heavy, resolved, understood too late to matter and too clearly to ever discard. Except, knowing what the future holds for them, Sasuke is going to save his brother this time around.
He reaches the top.
The corridor opens wide. A door stands open to the side. Two tall figures in black and red crowd the passage, their backs turned to him. Between them stands a young Naruto, facing the opposite direction, tense and visibly shaken. Kisame’s hand drifts toward his sword—then stops, head turning slightly, like he has sensed Sasuke's presence before seeing him. His gaze locks onto the stairway exit.
Itachi speaks without turning around.
“It’s been a while, Sasuke.”
Just like then, the world narrows to this moment.
Sasuke's mind barely registers Kisame’s excited voice—“A Sharingan… and he looks an awful lot like you. Itachi, who is this kid?” The words slide past him like background noise. Naruto fades into the edge of his awareness.
Only Itachi remains.
Younger and older than he remembers in any lasting sense—yet still carrying that same unbearable stillness. Black cloak hanging loose, red clouds motionless against it. Long dark hair framing a face too calm for the situation, too composed.
And those eyes—
The Sharingan meets his.
And before he knows what he's doing, he's crossed the distance between them.
“Nii-san!”
He collides with his brother’s chest, arms locking around him, head pressed against where a steady heartbeat meets his ear—loud, real, impossible to deny. His brother is there. Solid. Warm. Alive.
Tense with shock.
“...Sasuke?”
Sasuke pulls back just enough to look up at him. Disbelief flickers across Itachi’s otherwise controlled face.
“Danzo,” Sasuke says quickly, voice steadying as the truth settles into place, “he told me everything.” His gaze sharpens, the shapes of Mangekyou bleeding in. “Before I killed him.”
The air changes.
Itachi’s expression breaks—not fully, but enough. A fracture in the mask. He recoils a fraction.
“Those eyes…” His voice is lower now. Strained. “Where did you get those eyes?”
“You gave them to me.”
“No.”
Itachi’s hands come up sharply, closing around his shoulders. Sasuke doesn’t look away. It's important that he says—
“I know why you did it. About the village. About Mother and Father. I know your pain. I know everything.”
For a moment, there is only silence.
Itachi does not speak. He does not move. But something in his expression changes—subtle, almost imperceptible, yet unmistakably real.
Then Kisame shifts. A low, warning sound escapes him. “Itachi…”
Naruto tenses at the edge of the corridor, confusion sharpening into alarm.
Itachi’s grip tightens. “Sasuke,” he says, voice no longer steady, “what have you done?”
His fingers press harder into Sasuke’s shoulders as he forces him back, breaking the closeness between them. Not fully releasing—just enough space to see him clearly again. Looking at him like he thinks he might be a genjutsu, or a dream.
Naruto takes it as his chance.
His chakra flares. Kisame moves. The air snaps back into motion. Samehada slides slightly from its bindings as the man grins, showing off his shark-like teeth. Naruto's eyes widen—his jutsu interrupted, hands still locked in formation.
“My sword,” Kisame says, voice light, the weapon still raised. “Samehada… it has the ability to cut through and eat chakra.”
His eyes flick back to Itachi and Sasuke.
“Itachi,” he adds, almost conversational, “is this your little brother? I thought the Uchiha were all wiped out… by you.”
Itachi does not answer.
His grip on Sasuke remains—not enough to harm, but enough to anchor him there, as if the rest of the world has been reduced to this single point. His gaze does not leave him. Not even for a second.
Kisame’s grin widens at that.
Itachi draws a breath, lips parting, about to say something—when a burst of smoke erupts across the corridor floor. Sasuke is yanked backward, torn from his grasp, a summoned toad snapping into place where he stood a heartbeat before. He is thrown across the corridor, the world tilting violently as he hits the ground and skids back through the smoke.
At the same time, there is another surge of movement at the other end—someone appears and intercepts Naruto, pulling him clear of Kisame’s reach.
Jiraya. Sasuke remembers now.
“You guys just don't know me much, do you?” the legendary Sannin's voice booms across the corridor. “This man Jiraya does not fall victim to any woman's allurement, but rather his forte is winning women's affection!”
When the smoke clears, Sasuke sees him. Jiraiya stands in the open space triumphantly, a woman slumped unconscious over his shoulder, her body limp under the aftermath of Itachi’s genjutsu. Naruto is there too, already yelling at him for how easily he fell for the distraction. Kisame's Samehada is angled between himself and the two, the blade’s wrappings twitching faintly.
But Itachi has not moved. His grip on absence—on the space Sasuke was pulled from—still lingers in his posture. His gaze remains locked forward, but now it has shifted slightly, acknowledging the intrusion without breaking focus.
“…Jiraiya,” he says at last, voice even.
The toad in front of Sasuke disappears with a puff of smoke. Itachi's attention returns to his brother. Behind him, voices rise—Jiraiya speaks, Kisame answers, but the words blur into something indistinct in Sasuke's mind once more.
Itachi’s composure remains intact, but not untouched. The same face Sasuke once read as cold now holds something else—something he would not have recognized back then. Something he would have missed had he not known the truth.
“—actually, this is all very convenient,“ Jiraiya’s voice reaches him. “I can eliminate you both at the same time!”
Sasuke twitches. He has no idea what happens from there—outside of Naruto's unreliable recollection from the hospital. He would've been unconscious when Kisame and Itachi escaped, burning a hole through the wall. Did Itachi use Amaterasu for this purpose?
“Stay out of this,” Itachi's mouth moves.
It takes Sasuke a moment to realize the words were meant for him. Another to realize he has already moved—up, then half a step forward, hand closing around a kunai before he’s fully aware of it, instinctively moving toward Itachi. To—what? Protect him?
He stops.
Jiraiya clicks his tongue. “…Too late,” he mutters. “How unfortunate, Itachi, Kisame... you guys are already in my stomach!”
The air shifts. A low, enclosing pressure settles over the corridor—it is no longer stable. It flexes, breathes, begins to close, like it has become a living organism.
Naruto shifts beside the Sannin. “Old man—what is this?!”
“Toad Mouth Trap,” Jiraya grins.
The floor has also changed. Pink. Soft. Elastic. Like the intestine of a beast. Sasuke swears under his breath as the slimy ground starts sucking his feet in, making him unable to move. Kisame shifts too—caught in the same sealing environment.
Then the walls start moving. Flesh-like surfaces surge inward, attempting to bind him and Itachi. Samehada swings, slashing the incoming mass, but it regrows almost instantly. Itachi’s gaze finally leaves Sasuke, shifting at last toward the closing walls. His eyes track the movement—not the mass itself, but the pattern beneath it. Then his attention fixes on a single point.
A black flame erupts. Amaterasu ignites against the wall behind him, forcing a rupture that opens up a gap.
Itachi leaps through. Kisame follows.
No, not yet, Sasuke thinks desperately, starting after them.
He jumps forward, but Jiraiya is already there, blocking his way. He catches him by the shoulder and pulls him back hard, pushing him deeper into the yielding flesh beneath them.
“Don't.”
Sasuke jerks against the grip. His knees sink deeper into the soft, living floor, swallowing the motion.
“Let go! My brother—”
“Gone,” Jiraiya cuts in.
Sasuke’s chakra snaps against the hold. But he’s in a child’s body. Only capable of a child’s output. The words come sharper now, forced through strain. “I have to talk to him—!”
Jiraya’s hand locks harder on Sasuke’s shoulder, chakra flaring briefly to steady him against the sinking ground. Sasuke twists his head upward—past Jiraiya’s arm, past the collapsing walls. For a moment, he still sees them—black shapes against the broken edge of sky.
Naruto’s voice cuts through again. “Sasuke, what the hell was that?”
Sasuke doesn’t answer. Sunken in the ground to his waist, he stares at the space where they vanished. His hand curls into a fist. He’s come here for his brother, and now he’s lost this chance. He changed nothing. Except—Itachi is alive, and that’s all that matters. He forces himself to remember what comes next.
Jiraiya bends down, already forming the seal to contain the lingering Amaterasu with a scroll.
Sasuke’s fingers tighten. He’s been foolish to choose this moment—he had assumed there would be time. That Itachi would stop. In his memory, there was more space between what happened. But no matter his mistake. He’ll find his brother again. That’s what he's come here for.
Not a loss yet—a delay.
*
In the distance, the gap in the wall stops burning.
Kisame exhales as they break into the treeline, his sandals tapping against the branches. “That was close.”
Itachi does not respond. His eyes are forward, but unfocused, the Sharingan already faded. Kisame’s gaze lingers on him. It’s rare, seeing him like this. Unsettled, almost. Having to run away. And from whom? Jiraya the Sannin or—
The Uchiha kid?
Kisame keeps his pace a half-step behind Itachi, Samehada resting on his back. He has never seen his partner like this. Retreats aren’t unusual—they’ve extracted from lighter situations. No, it's the way Itachi fixated on the boy—Sasuke, was it?—like nothing else in the world existed.
“That boy,” he says at last, in a casual tone, as if commenting on terrain. “Little brother, right? Thought you were supposed to be thorough.”
Itachi doesn’t slow. Leaves whip past them.
“Are we coming back for him?”
“There’s no rush for now,” Itachi answers. “We’ll get Naruto when the time is right.”
“I meant your brother.”
Itachi sends him a look over his shoulder. The Sharingan is back. “He is of no concern to our mission.”
Didn’t look that way, Kisame thinks. And it still doesn't now, with Itachi’s eyes coming out the second the kid is mentioned, as if he has any chakra to spare after using Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu, both in one day.
“We should find someplace to rest for a while and recharge my powers.”
Kisame grunts in agreement. He watches Itachi’s back as they continue forward. Now unreadable again. But Kisame caught it—back in that corridor. A crack, brief but real. The way Itachi reacted to the boy. The way everything else—Jiraiya included, a Sannin-level threat—fell out of priority because of his presence. The unmovable Itachi—pulled off balance by something as small as a child.
Though not just any child, no. A child with eyes so similar to Itachi’s. Same clan. But lacking hatred. No killing intent. No fear. Just… recognition. And then—embrace. Like Itachi wasn’t the same man who had mercilessly slaughtered their family. Mercy had never been a word Kisame’d associate with Itachi, and yet—the boy lives.
Kisame’s mouth twitches faintly. Not only that, the kid reached for Itachi like instinct. As if there was something there worth trusting. And Itachi… didn’t stop him. He held him.
Which, for Itachi, is as good as a confession.
And that would mean—
Kisame lets out a low chuckle under his breath, the sound swallowed by the rush of wind through the trees. Interesting.
He’s looking forward to running into that little Uchiha again.