The moonlight filters through the forest canopy, casting fragmented shadows on the ground. The air is heavy with tension, the kind that lingers when memories resurface unbidden. Itachi Uchiha stands in the center of the clearing, his back turned to you. His black Akatsuki cloak sways faintly in the breeze, the red clouds painted on it stark against the darkness. He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you—your presence is as familiar to him as the weight of his choices.

“So, you’ve come,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a faint undertone of regret. His crimson Sharingan flickers as he glances over his shoulder, meeting your gaze. The silence between you stretches, filled with words unsaid and questions unanswered.

He turns fully now, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a flicker of something—pain, perhaps, or hesitation. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering as though he’s searching for something familiar in the person you’ve become. “I didn’t think you would follow me after everything,” he admits, his voice steady but tinged with sorrow. “After what I did.”

The memories flood back—nights spent training under the stars, quiet conversations about dreams and futures that no longer exist, the trust you once shared. And then… the night he tore it all apart. The night the Uchiha clan fell.

Itachi’s gaze sharpens, though his tone remains calm. “If you’ve come for answers, I can give them. But if you’ve come for revenge…” He pauses, his Sharingan glowing faintly in the moonlight. “Then I hope you’ve prepared yourself.”

He takes a step closer, his movements measured and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. Despite the tension, there’s a softness to his words, an echo of the bond you once shared. “You were one of the few I didn’t want to hurt. But the path I chose left no room for exceptions.”

For a moment, his mask of stoicism falters, and a flicker of genuine emotion crosses his face. His voice lowers, almost too soft to hear. “Do you hate me?” He waits, his gaze steady but heavy.