Itachi opened his mouth again, trying to defend himself, but the thick stench of blood from his memories clogged his throat, leaving him unable to form a complete syllable.
The moonlight that night had been dyed dark red by the blood of his clansmen, as though the entire world had been submerged in a sea of blood.
When his blade had pierced through the relatives now standing before him, that warm sensation had remained at his fingertips.
Every memory was like salt being rubbed into an open wound.
"No... I did it for the village, for..." Itachi rasped out with great difficulty.
Yet that feeble voice seemed so pale and powerless amid the furious roars of his relatives, like a dying candle in the wind that could go out at any moment.
"Demon!" A shrill scream exploded through the air. A woman revived by Edo Tensei suddenly raised her withered hands, clawing fiercely at Uchiha Itachi's throat like an eagle's talons. Itachi's back slammed heavily into a vine-covered tree with a dull thud. His Adam's apple struggled beneath the woman's palm, every breath accompanied by agonizing pain.
The scenes he had deliberately buried deep in his heart, unwilling to touch, surged forth uncontrollably like raging tides.
The cries of children, the rage of the defeated, countless trembling and terrified eyes crying out in grief.
"Big brother, save me!"
That childish, desperate voice seemed to still echo beside his ears.
In a pool of blood, his mother had used the last of her strength to reach for the hem of his clothes, her eyes full of attachment and sorrow.
When his father had looked at him for the last time, the helplessness and understanding in his eyes had pierced straight into his heart like a sharp sword.
"No... it wasn't like