Forged Beyond

The clash of steel rang out through the ruined battlefield as Sasuke and Itachi engaged in a relentless duel, their Sharingan eyes spinning wildly, reading each other's every move. Sasuke's katana clashed against Itachi's kunai in a brutal exchange of slashes, parries, and counterattacks, their movements so fast they blurred against the backdrop of a ruined shrine.

Blood dripped from fresh cuts lining Sasuke's arms, but he ignored the pain. Itachi, ever so composed, had a thin stream of blood trailing down the side of his mouth. His left sleeve had been torn apart, exposing the numerous gashes from Sasuke's attacks. Yet neither of them faltered.

With a sharp exhale, Sasuke feinted a left swing with his katana before twisting mid-air, bringing his blade down toward Itachi's shoulder. Itachi barely dodged, the edge of the blade slicing through his cloak, leaving a deep scratch on his bicep. Without missing a beat, he retaliated, slamming his foot into Sasuke's ribs and sending him crashing into the stone pavement.

Sasuke coughed, blood staining his lips, but he pushed himself up, eyes never leaving his brother. His Sharingan burned, memorizing Itachi's every move, every subtle shift in his stance. He lunged forward again, this time using the momentum to reinforce his strike. Itachi met it head-on, their blades locked in place, sparks flying between them as they pushed against each other with all their strength.

"You're stronger than before, Sasuke," Itachi admitted, voice devoid of emotion. "But you still lack control."

Sasuke snarled, pushing forward, using his sheer willpower to overpower Itachi. "Shut up! I don't need control to kill you!"

Itachi tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, before he twisted his kunai, forcing Sasuke to stumble. Capitalizing on the opening, he grabbed Sasuke's wrist and twisted it, making him drop his katana before delivering a brutal elbow strike to his stomach. Sasuke gasped, barely able to breathe, but he retaliated by bringing his knee up, striking Itachi's ribs.

The fight was merciless. They moved like demons possessed, neither willing to give the other an inch. Time became irrelevant as the two brothers fought with all they had, fists connecting with flesh, weapons slashing through the air. Sasuke activated his Curse Mark, black flames licking up his skin as he pushed his body beyond its limits. Itachi, in turn, intensified his attacks, his Sharingan analyzing every weak point Sasuke exposed.

Sasuke's curse mark chakra roared like a wildfire, but Itachi, ever the strategist, aimed for endurance. He let Sasuke burn himself out, dodging, blocking, parrying—until the inevitable happened.

The left wing of Sasuke's Curse Mark form was cut off. A sharp, agonizing scream tore from Sasuke's throat as his body shuddered violently. His hair, once tinged with the eerie black markings of the curse, began to shift back to normal. The exhaustion was setting in, and his limitless chakra had vanished.

Itachi, breathing heavily, stood across from him. His hands trembled slightly, the aftereffects of their prolonged fight creeping into his nerves. But Sasuke's attention flickered downward. His eyes widened.

The nails of Itachi's left hand were ripped out. Blood dripped from his fingers.

Sasuke's breath hitched. "...You've been tortured."

Itachi said nothing. His crimson gaze was unreadable.

Sasuke clenched his fists, forcing his body to ignore the growing unease. He spat blood onto the ground. "Hah. What, did someone finally make you pay for all the things you've done?"

Itachi remained silent, his breathing steady, but his grip on his kunai tightened.

Sasuke's heart pounded, but he scowled, shaking off the strange feeling creeping into his chest. What did it matter if Itachi had been tortured? What did it change? Nothing.