Chaotic Memories, Eternal Mangekyou

And then—

Images.

They had not come from outside, but from within. From the eyes that had just been placed into his sockets. From Itachi's Sharingan.

They surged in like a tide, unstoppable, impossible to refuse.

Days in Darkness—Day One

Sasuke saw a world he did not recognize.

It was not the Uchiha Clan Compound from his memories—the place he had lost forever on the night of the massacre. This was earlier. The Clan Compound from Itachi's memories.

Red lanterns hung along the streets, and the setting sun painted the sky orange-red. A little black-haired boy stood in the middle of the training ground, a shuriken in his hand. Three were embedded in the target before him—all dead center.

That was Itachi.

A very young Itachi. Maybe four or five years old.

"Itachi! Come home for dinner!" a woman called from afar.

Itachi turned his head, and Sasuke saw that face—that face both painfully familiar and utterly unfamiliar. Little Itachi smiled, his eyes curving into crescents as he ran toward the voice.

"Mom! I threw thirty times today, and every one hit!"

"That's amazing."

The woman crouched and stroked Itachi's head. Her face was blurred by the sunset, but Sasuke knew who she was.

Uchiha Mikoto.

His mother.

In Itachi's memories, his mother's smile was warm. That warmth passed through Itachi's eyes, like a ray of sunlight shining into Sasuke's burning nerves.

The pain eased for an instant.

Then the image shattered.

Day Two

The pain was worse.

Sasuke curled up on the cold ground, his body trembling uncontrollably. Beneath the bandages, his eyes were spinning violently—he could feel them doing something, his eyeballs whirling madly in their sockets, as if searching for a suitable position, an angle where they could settle.

Each turn brought a fresh wave of pain,