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Summary
“I can’t let Sasuke see me like this.”
The thought echoed in his mind like a mantra, his chest tightening as his fingers dug into the wooden table. Sasuke had trusted him—no, he still trusted him—and Itachi couldn’t afford to break that trust. He wouldn’t let his little brother see the signs. He wouldn’t let him feel the same burden of grief and fear that Itachi had carried since their mother’s death. The weight of that responsibility felt almost unbearable.
Just as he was about to push himself away from the table, he felt it again—the wave of dizziness rushing over him. His vision blurred, and his head spun. He stood up abruptly, but his legs felt weak, as though they were made of paper. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself, but it was no use. His breath caught, sharp and painful, before the familiar, brutal cough ripped through his chest.
This time, there was no stopping it…
Or
What if Itachi got his mysterious illness before the massacre
Contents 3 chapters
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