Yamanaka Stronghold Basement.
When the door was pushed open, dust sifted down from the frame, drifting in the faint light for a moment before settling back onto the floor.
Sasuke Uchiha stood in the doorway, his backlit silhouette nearly filling the entire outline of the door.
His gaze crossed the open space in the center of the hall and settled on the man seated in the stone chair.
Itachi sat there in exactly the same posture Sasuke remembered—back straight, hands folded over his knees. In the darkness, his face looked even paler than in Sasuke's memories, his cheekbones more sharply defined.
His calm gaze rested in the direction of the doorway, as though he were waiting for someone he had long known would come.
Sasuke stepped over the threshold. The door closed on its own behind him with a dull thud, cutting off the last trace of outside light.
Itachi spoke, his tone so indifferent that it was as though he were not speaking to a younger brother he had not seen for years, but chatting with someone who knew the answer and merely wanted confirmation.
"Finally, the day has come, Sasuke. I want to know—just how far can those Sharingan eyes of yours see?"
Sasuke did not stop walking until he reached the center of the hall.
His eyes were already fully activated—three tomoe slowly turning in the dim light, while something deep within his dark red pupils gradually sank, then rose again.
"You're asking whether I can see far? Itachi Uchiha? I've waited a long time for this day."
He paused, his gaze shifting from Itachi's face to the stone wall behind him before returning.
"What I can see clearly—is the sight of you dying by my own hand."
Itachi looked at Sasuke in silence for several seconds.