There was a disruption, but more than that there was blood dripping off his brother's blade and Hinata's body stilling, the shock of pain stiffening muscles until the brain dies first, stops sending the signal to the heart to beat, the eyes stop seeing, the body releases. The wet impact of her body (corpse) against Naruto's (corpse), entangled as they'd never been in life, and the red, red, red eyes of --
Itachi, stepping forward and raising his sword again, and Sasuke lost the edge of his chakra control for just a moment in sheer disbelief. The moment was all it took before the sense that he'd found something wrong was gone, but before he could think about it he was staring into an unfamiliar pair of eyes, Itachi's Sharingan mutated somehow. Darker, an unnatural warped shape to it, and in a blink the world around him had shifted into a smear reds and blacks. Primal fear, bloodline fear, that the eyes were lying, that they were no longer useful.
There was a jutsu he could use, here, because the only reason Itachi would -- the only reason Itachi would --
"You're a disappointment, little brother," Itachi's voice cut through his frantic gathering of chakra, and Sasuke gasped for air as a foot suddenly landed on the back of his head, digging into the base of his neck. His brother stood in front of him, so that had to mean --
"You're a disappointment of a son," Fugaku's voice arose, not so much the image of him as the sense of him bleeding into the blood-moon world, and the echo ringed around him: you're a disappointment, you're unfit for the name you bear, you're a disappointment. His mother, hands folded in front of her, eyes cool, standing behind Itachi's shoulder. Aunts, uncles, Shisui too, he thought in a blank breathless panic, and the ranks parting for --
Obito --
But sensei said, unfinished half-protest, knees sinking somehow where he was still bent beneath the pressure of his father's weight and Obito's voice at its coldest professional hue: "You have proved unworthy as my student and as a shinobi of this village, Sasuke."
Echoing again through the crowd, a ripple of noise that limned the crimson haze of light, the black pools of Uchiha eyes and Uchiha voices and: unworthy, a rising hiss of noise. His body still sinking into something viscous, something coating his hands, and in his hands were -- when had he picked up kunai? When had he --
Itachi stepped forward and over Naruto and Hinata's bodies, faces slack, laid out on their backs as if on a funeral pyre. Their throats were slit, blood draining to -- and that was what Sasuke was sinking in, against the murmuring crescendo (a failure, worthless) until suddenly his chin was forced up so his gaze locked onto his brother's warped Sharingan.
"I never wanted you for a brother," Itachi hissed, low and menacing and bloodless, as if all the warmth Sasuke knew in him had drained into the blood he was sinking in as well -- submerged to the waist, Sasuke reached out with one hand only to have it slapped away, something unwanted and annoying. A nuisance, a -- "Waste, that's what you were. A waste of my time. As if you'd ever be good enough to match me, let alone protect me. Your have no value to this village, to this clan, or to me. Your only future is to live a low life, to crawl and run and hide like the insect you are."
"Brother," choked out, audible outside the genjutsu, and then Itachi's hand was on the back of his head and pushing -- shoving his face into the mingled muck of his teammates' blood. It filled his lungs in one stunned gasp and finally, finally his Sharingan flared, a pure adrenaline rush rising with it to shred the genjutsu with a wave of chakra that gusted through the clearing, first chakra-nature telling as it heated the air for a moment.
Sasuke stayed where he was, doubled over, and tried desperately to bring his breathing back under control.
tl;dr incoming
Itachi, stepping forward and raising his sword again, and Sasuke lost the edge of his chakra control for just a moment in sheer disbelief. The moment was all it took before the sense that he'd found something wrong was gone, but before he could think about it he was staring into an unfamiliar pair of eyes, Itachi's Sharingan mutated somehow. Darker, an unnatural warped shape to it, and in a blink the world around him had shifted into a smear reds and blacks. Primal fear, bloodline fear, that the eyes were lying, that they were no longer useful.
There was a jutsu he could use, here, because the only reason Itachi would -- the only reason Itachi would --
"You're a disappointment, little brother," Itachi's voice cut through his frantic gathering of chakra, and Sasuke gasped for air as a foot suddenly landed on the back of his head, digging into the base of his neck. His brother stood in front of him, so that had to mean --
"You're a disappointment of a son," Fugaku's voice arose, not so much the image of him as the sense of him bleeding into the blood-moon world, and the echo ringed around him: you're a disappointment, you're unfit for the name you bear, you're a disappointment. His mother, hands folded in front of her, eyes cool, standing behind Itachi's shoulder. Aunts, uncles, Shisui too, he thought in a blank breathless panic, and the ranks parting for --
Obito --
But sensei said, unfinished half-protest, knees sinking somehow where he was still bent beneath the pressure of his father's weight and Obito's voice at its coldest professional hue: "You have proved unworthy as my student and as a shinobi of this village, Sasuke."
Echoing again through the crowd, a ripple of noise that limned the crimson haze of light, the black pools of Uchiha eyes and Uchiha voices and: unworthy, a rising hiss of noise. His body still sinking into something viscous, something coating his hands, and in his hands were -- when had he picked up kunai? When had he --
Itachi stepped forward and over Naruto and Hinata's bodies, faces slack, laid out on their backs as if on a funeral pyre. Their throats were slit, blood draining to -- and that was what Sasuke was sinking in, against the murmuring crescendo (a failure, worthless) until suddenly his chin was forced up so his gaze locked onto his brother's warped Sharingan.
"I never wanted you for a brother," Itachi hissed, low and menacing and bloodless, as if all the warmth Sasuke knew in him had drained into the blood he was sinking in as well -- submerged to the waist, Sasuke reached out with one hand only to have it slapped away, something unwanted and annoying. A nuisance, a -- "Waste, that's what you were. A waste of my time. As if you'd ever be good enough to match me, let alone protect me. Your have no value to this village, to this clan, or to me. Your only future is to live a low life, to crawl and run and hide like the insect you are."
"Brother," choked out, audible outside the genjutsu, and then Itachi's hand was on the back of his head and pushing -- shoving his face into the mingled muck of his teammates' blood. It filled his lungs in one stunned gasp and finally, finally his Sharingan flared, a pure adrenaline rush rising with it to shred the genjutsu with a wave of chakra that gusted through the clearing, first chakra-nature telling as it heated the air for a moment.
Sasuke stayed where he was, doubled over, and tried desperately to bring his breathing back under control.