Itachi stood in the shadows on the rooftop, his scarlet Three-Tomoe Sharingan quietly looking down at Sasuke as if he were some lifeless object. The wind lifted the hem of his black robe, and a bone-piercing chill immediately spread through the air—the cold chakra that belonged to the Akatsuki, to the clan killer.
Sasuke's body trembled uncontrollably. The Curse Mark on his left shoulder burned hot under the stimulation of hatred, its black patterns crawling up along his neck. All his calm, all his growth, all the bonds he had formed with his comrades—at the moment he saw Itachi, they were all dragged back to that blood-soaked night.
The warmth of his parents lying in pools of blood, the shocked eyes of his clansmen, and Itachi's cold words when he turned away—"Hate me, and cling to life"—exploded in his mind.
"Itachi..." Sasuke's voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. His eyes were bloodshot, and his Sharingan shook wildly out of control. "Why... are you here..."
Kakashi instantly stepped in front of Sasuke, his silver hair and white blade flashing under the setting sun, his Sharingan fully open. "Uchiha Itachi, this is the Leaf. Leave."
Asuma and Kurenai also immediately closed in, their chakra stretched taut to the limit. The Akatsuki's terrifying reputation, the grave crime of slaughtering a clan, the threat of the Mangekyō—no one dared be careless.
But Itachi did not even spare anyone else a glance. His gaze remained locked on Sasuke. His lips parted slightly, and his voice was as cold as ice. "You're too weak, Sasuke."
Just those four words pierced through all of Sasuke's dignity.
He had fought with everything he had in the Land of Waves, struggled in the Forest of Death, awakened the Three-Tomoe Sharingan in the arena, suppressed the Curse Mark,