"Splat, patter, boom! Splat, patter, boom! Splat, patter, boom-!"
A scream escapes his lips, echoing all of his pain and heartache. Blood covers his pale hands, and he stumbles back, looking at a corpse. A tear escapes his bloodshot eye, and he becomes consumed by grief. The remains of his younger brother lies on the ground, covered in blood, with a small black flame dancing on its arm. He merely puts it out with his gaze, and keels beside the body. His eyes scan it, wanting to savor the look of the boy he'd always loved. The face of the one who's most precious to him--yet, he killed him.
"This was for the good of the world," his hand brushes the cold cheek. "But it still hurts. The path you're taking... it's only one of destruction, pain, anguish, and trouble. It starts with revenge on me, then the Leaf when you discover what I wanted hidden from you, then the world. It never ends--a cycle so dangerous and consuming that there's no deterring you from it. It takes over your mind, heart, and soul; and I don't want to see you on that path. I'm putting out the flames of retribution."
From the cheek, his hand moves to an eye, which he rips out; then, he does the same to the other. He stores them in a container with liquid in order to preserve them, then conceals them in his cloak. The fight was short: he's unscathed. He wipes his single tear, then exits through the gate, seeing his teammate. Once again, his face has become emotionless, in an attempt to cover the pain which is slowly taking over.
When he lies his head down to sleep, his exhaustion is evident; yet he can't seem to reach sleep. It's so close, yet so far--that's when he remembers his brother, and the look on the boy's face as he was dying. He was terrified, and regretted every decision he'd ever made; he'd come to understand that he truly was not ready to take on such a powerful opponent, and now his life is coming to an end.
He cries, and it remains unseen. He's quiet in his sufferings, so nobody ever sees them. Instead of lying there, wallowing in self-pity, he sits up, and takes himself to a cliff over a lake. He pulls out the eyes that he stole from his brother, and sighs. A gurgling feeling erupts in the pit of his stomach: he knows what he should do. It's the wise choice, really. His eyes are weakening, but he knows how to fix that issue. It's obvious.
But can he really bring himself to do that?
"To steal the eyes of my younger brother," He mutters. "That would be quite inhuman. My Mangekyō Sharingan will be eternal, my eyes will be healed, I could potentially become a more powerful person than I could dream of with a Perfect Susano'o--but can I do it? He is- no, was my younger brother. It sounds so wrong... but it's also a necessity. Shouldn't I live? Instead of letting my clan die in the not-so-distant future? Unfortunately, yes, that's what I should do."
He pulls out his own eyes, then replaces them with his brother's. Afterward, he bandages them, knowing he will need time to heal. There's no going back now. It's official. He's taken his brother's eyes, and now has the eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.
And now the guilt of the younger Uchiha's death will reside in his own head. What a pity.
-
The practicality of eye-stealing is evident in every fight, now that Itachi's eyesight is flawless. To think, the man was going blind, and now his vision is greater than anyone else's in the world; and all it took was a new set of eyes. Whenever he uses them, he remembers the younger boy.
A part of him wants to return home, and give an honest account of his life. All he can think about these days is what it would be like to live a peaceful life--but he knows he can't. No one would believe him, and even if they did, his hands are stained with the blood of so many innocent lives.
He's aware that he'll be dying soon--he's still ill. There's very little time left for him. Soon, his body will become too weak, and he'll die. His suffering these days will have been in vain. As he staggers along, the weight of his upcoming death is merely a comfort. He wants to die. He wants to just get it over with. Every time he remembers that it will be over soon, it's like some of his pain lifts off of his shoulders--the crushing weight of his despair becomes more bearable.
Then, the day comes, and he stumbles into a ditch. His legs give out, and he finds himself on the ground. His heart slows down, little by little.
"Thump... thump... thump... ... thump... ... thump... ... thump... ... ... thump... ... ... thump... ... ... thump... ... ... ... thump... ... ... ... thump... ... ... ... thump... ... ... ... ... ..."
And his heart just stops all together. The peace of knowing it's all over falls upon his flesh, and he closes his eyes with the last bit of strength he has left. Then, when he opens his eyes again, he's reunited with his clan in the afterlife, now having to face all of his former loved ones--the people he killed. Now, he can be at peace. His guilt has vanished with his flesh; his pain evaporated with his human mindset; his struggles gone with the very breath that once resided in his chest. Yes. He's finally at peace. His life is over, and there's no other reassurance than that. He's suffered, he's cried, he's lost everything; and now, he can find tranquility in it being over. His corpse remains with a smile, because his soul's joy is so great that it reflects on the body it has departed from.
