Itachi looked at the cement-covered ground, then raised his head to meet Kisame's eyes with absolute seriousness. "Please."
Kisame felt the weight of that single word. Itachi's unblinking stare was uncomfortable, and he'd always been soft-hearted when it came to his partner's requests.
"Alright, I'll dig it for you," Kisame sighed. "But let's compromise. I'll dig right next to it where there's no cement. The dirt will be much easier to work with."
The concrete was simply too hard. He had standards.
Also, Itachi had this rule about hole-digging: no ninjutsu allowed. Had to be done with physical strength alone to make it "more formal and solemn." Which meant Kisame would be stuck doing manual labor for the next hour.
"Acceptable," Itachi said after a moment's consideration. He recognized he was asking a lot of his partner.
With the agreement reached, Kisame immediately got to work. The ground beside the cement patch was much more cooperative, and he'd dug thousands of holes for Itachi over the years. He had the process down to an art.
Ten minutes later, a hole over a meter deep sat ready.
"Done," Kisame announced, wiping sweat from his forehead and stretching his aching back.
"Thank you," Itachi said simply.
He untied the cloth wrapping from the streetlamp on his back, revealing the weathered metal beneath. With careful reverence, he lowered it into the hole while Kisame packed dirt around the base, stomping it firm.
"There." Kisame tested the stability, pushing the lamp from different angles. It didn't budge. "Try standing on it. If it's not stable enough, I'll reinforce it."
"I trust you," Itachi said.
He jumped up onto the streetlamp in one smooth motion, landing on top with perfect balance.
The moment his feet made contact, Itachi frowned slightly. Something felt wrong. The angle was different. The height was off. This wasn't quite right.
But it was already done, and he didn't want to make Kisame dig yet another hole. This would have to suffice.
Kisame looked up at his partner perched on the lamp and felt genuine warmth. Being trusted like this, relied upon—it felt good.
"Itachi-san, are you just going to wait here?" Kisame asked. "Your brother doesn't know you've arrived. Should I go find him and bring him here?"
Itachi shook his head. "No need. I'll wait for him here. I'm certain he can sense my arrival."
He crossed his arms and lifted his face slightly, gazing toward the distant horizon with absolute confidence. He and Sasuke shared a bond, a connection forged in blood and trauma. The moment Itachi had stepped into Konoha's territory, Sasuke would have felt it.
Brother, I'll wait for you. Don't disappoint me.
Since Itachi seemed so certain, Kisame didn't push. He settled down at the base of the streetlamp to wait for this younger brother named Sasuke to appear.
Half an hour passed.
Itachi felt numbness spreading through the soles of his feet. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to restore circulation without losing his dramatic pose.
Kisame, growing impatient below, noticed the movement. "Itachi-san, why don't you come down and rest? You can go back up when your brother gets close."
"No," Itachi said flatly.
Kisame recognized that tone. His partner had made a decision, and nothing would change his mind now.
But the wait was getting ridiculous. Where was this supposedly intuitive little brother?
"Itachi-san," Kisame ventured carefully, "maybe we should reconsider? What if your brother really doesn't know you're here? This could be a long wait."
The question made Itachi's confidence waver. Could it be that Sasuke and I don't share the connection I thought we did? Even hatred creates a bond. Doesn't it?
Then another possibility occurred to him.
The streetlamp position was wrong.
"I think we need to dig the original location after all," Itachi said, jumping down from the lamp. "That's the only way he'll know I'm here."
Kisame's face went carefully blank. "The... the cement location."
"Yes."
"..."
If we were just going to dig through cement anyway, why did I waste time on this hole? Kisame thought despairingly.
But he was already pulling out his tools. "Fine. Let's do this."
The next twenty minutes were brutal. Cement was not meant to be excavated with hand tools while refusing to use ninjutsu. Kisame worked with grim determination, chipping away piece by stubborn piece until finally, finally, he had a hole of adequate depth.
He didn't bother checking the stability this time. He just sat down hard on the ground, gasping for breath.
Please let the brother show up soon, Kisame prayed. I can't take much more of this.
Itachi thanked Kisame silently in his mind, then jumped back onto the streetlamp.
The moment his feet touched the top, he nodded in satisfaction. Yes. This is right. This is the spot.
Now he just had to wait for Sasuke.
At the farm, training time flew by. Lunch came and went. Sasuke remained tense, constantly alert for any sign of Itachi's presence, but felt nothing.
Afternoon arrived. The sun began its slide toward the western horizon, approaching the time when the Academy usually dismissed students for the day.
Sasuke was mid-kata when his heart suddenly jumped. A figure flashed through his mind with crystal clarity.
He stopped moving, turned to face the direction of the old Uchiha compound, and whispered: "He's here."
Naruto's enhanced hearing caught the words immediately. He appeared beside Sasuke in an instant. "Itachi's arrived?"
"Yes." Sasuke's voice was absolutely certain. "I can't be wrong. He's here."
He started walking toward the Uchiha district without another word.
Naruto followed.
When they left the farm, Sasuke turned onto a familiar road. This path led directly to the Uchiha compound, paved by the clan's wealth years ago. Streetlamps lined the route every five meters, testament to how prosperous the Uchiha had once been.
Walking this road triggered sense memory so strong it was almost overwhelming. The time of day, the angle of the sun, the feel of the stones beneath his feet—it was exactly like coming home from the Academy used to be.
For a moment, Sasuke could almost imagine turning the corner and seeing his mother preparing dinner, hearing his father's low voice discussing clan business, catching sight of Itachi waiting on his favorite lamp.
But memories, no matter how beautiful, couldn't be reclaimed.
And the person who'd destroyed those memories was the brother he'd loved most.
Sasuke's emotions roiled as he started down the path—uncertainty, pain, fear—but with each step, something settled. Hardened. Became clear.
Uchiha Itachi must die.
That was the only thought that mattered now.
As if following a script rehearsed countless times, Sasuke suddenly stopped walking. He looked up.
There, standing on the streetlamp with arms crossed, looking into the distance, was that familiar silhouette.
For one heartbeat, Sasuke's imagination supplied what should have happened. The figure would turn, eyes softening with affection, voice warm: "Welcome home, little brother. I've been waiting for you. Come on, let's go eat dinner. I made your favorite."
But imagination shattered against reality.
The figure on the streetlamp turned its head, eyes cold and expression remote. When Itachi spoke, his voice carried mockery and cruel amusement.
"Well, well. My foolish little brother. It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"
The tone was deliberately taunting. Designed to provoke.
"U-CHI-HA I-TA-CHI!"
Sasuke's eyes bled red as the Sharingan activated involuntarily. He stared up at the man on the streetlamp with such concentrated hatred it was almost physical, grinding out each syllable of the name that haunted his nightmares.
The name of the person he'd loved most.
The name of the person he had to kill.
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