No matter Itachi's intentions, he can't say that he can properly justify the past---their past. The one shared that, at one point, had involved two brothers locked in mutual killing intent. Leaving behind scars that won't ever fade with time. Undeniable; Itachi was his tormentor, but with the truth, comes a whole new perspective.
He doesn't see a menacing, blood-eyed shadow anymore. Sasuke sees an older brother, one who loved him without expecting any love in turn. A brother who was prepared to be hated, made a target, and eventually killed by his hand to secure his future. At this, there is simply no hate left in Sasuke.
Not for his brother, at least.
But more importantly, living the remainder of his life, free from the bonds of hatred, in a village he now sees as the major party to blame---said aloud, such a goal seemed forsaken from the start. If this is what Itachi had intended to happen, Sasuke is more likely to scoff than come close to indulging the possibility.
In fact, he will scoff. He understands Itachi better now than he ever did in the past, but this--
“I have no intention of returning to the village, and if that’s what Itachi wanted for me, I’m afraid that’s one thing I can’t honor. No, one thing I will never honor.”
As if he’d go back, now that he learned the truth and Sasuke know who’s really to blame.
To hell with the elders, the entire village---cowards, all of them, for forcing Itachi to do what he did, and not even providing him refuge among them. His brother cast out like a cold-hearted murderer at the age of thirteen, and doomed to be remembered as one after his death, when if anything, he should be hailed as a hero in their eyes.
Konoha is full to the brim with soft-bellied, complacent fools with no understanding of Itachi’s sacrifice. Further understanding of the pain they caused seemingly nonexistent, or ignored, all in favor of leading untroubled lives:
Quietly seething, his attention closes in on Nagato.
His interest is piqued for reasons he can’t explain, perhaps at the subtlest hint of melancholy threaded through those words. More than what meets the eye; something thick and unexplainable, like blood...Or like love?
“If I can go from hating my brother for years upon years, to loving him again within the span of a day, then yes---I agree. Love does work in the strangest ways.”
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