Not looking at them was easier said than done, not least in order to figure how to -- how to do what needed to be done. It didn't escape his notice that Obito headed for the children of the household first, the youngest one whom Sasuke had caught in an upstairs bedroom, sleeping through the commotion, and had woken up to blink sleepily at him unsuspecting innocence.

His Sharingan had been flickering, out of control as it never should be, and the crispness of the memory wavered like an image viewed by candlelight: wide-eyed, dark-haired, the edge of a question still curving out of her when Sasuke had reached out to lay the seal over her eyes.

He could stop looking at them, but it wouldn't help. Sasuke stepped to the oldest in the room, an elderly man who had come running at the first cry of distress. Blank your mind, Obito said, but the only time Sasuke had learned how to do so was in chakra meditation. Still, he tried, focusing on nothing more than chakra flow and the movements of his teacher's hands, his own sword half-drawn, only half-believing.