Title: Standing Ovation
Description: Itachi did not need applause, nor his place on the memorial stone. He had come to terms long ago that neither would be granted. Major manga spoilers
Pairings: None intended
Rating: T
Warnings: Major, major manga spoilers for chapter 396 and possibly 394 onwards
Disclaimer: No ownage, no sue-age
A/N: After a devastating dry-spell, inspiration has finally struck! And for those who know that I watch the anime, I've now delved into the manga, so beware!
- - -
In the world, it's not mine
Why should I have to try
To fix things I didn't create or contrive ?
- - -
His hand was cold, clammy and wrapped up in a scaly, ancient aura that even Uchiha Itachi tensed to. The grip was hard, final, and the raven-haired ninja knew that his veins were close to bursting, close to spraying that warm crimson upon Madara's dead features. To say it was a simple, diplomatic deal was to say that the Fourth Hokage's legacy was only mildly scorned at. His parents, softly breathing nighttime wonders, and his brother, curled up tight in the moon's shadow, were merely down the hall – all dreaming sweet-nothings while he pledged a life of hate and infamy with the devil. It was not an exaggeration for Uchiha Itachi does not exaggerate (he finds it extremely unbecoming) and the man (or perhaps ghost) before him was most certainly of satanic stature.
"I never pegged you as the foolish one, Uchiha Itachi."
Madara's voice suffocated the air between them, strangling it as if one was to choke on dusted gravel. It was low and deep, coming from the very depths of his chest cavity, poking and prodding him like that of a sadistic feline. Itachi continued to stare, tracing the folds of malformed skin and the iridescent red that followed his every move.
Madara continued, not the least bit put off by Itachi's stoic gaze, "But to give up everything and all those guilty pleasures for this," He gestured towards the sleepy village that lay just beyond the window pane, "For the people who will curse your name forever... It indeed sounds very foolish."
Itachi left Madara's stare to flicker his coal eyes towards the bedroom on the right, still filled with child's toys and stuffed animals (this, the occupant would never admit to), still teeming with youth and naive love that Itachi had to tear his gaze away from it lest he taint it further. But it was too late. Madara had already seen and perceived.
His smile was mocking, "So it is not all for the good of the universe, hm? And you think this will protect him..." It was not a question. "Do you dare to think he will love you afterwards?"
The young ANBU captain merely stared into the spinning tomoes unflinchingly while other men might have fell to their knees and begged for clemency. His alabaster skin glowed from the light, muted tones of milk-white the stars emitted through the glass door. Itachi was never one to dare, he preferred to take risks despite the unpleasant outcome they usually entailed. If the older Uchiha sibling was anything, it was a realist.
The ancient Uchiha cast his eyes to the idle door down the hall, leaving Itachi as if he were merely a speck of dirt not worth stepping on. His lips twitched, holding back a chuckle and quietly stated, "I'm not so sure he's worth it, Itachi. He won't be smart enough to see the magnitude of your sacrifice."
Madara sharply turned his head towards the stolid teen, scarlet irises flashing briefly with insanity. Itachi refrained from pulling out a sharpened kunai and plunging it into the flaky skin of the elder's jugular.
"He will hate you, despise you. He will wish you dead."
Itachi continued to regard the epitome of infamy which was Madara, silently observing the way his sharingan kept shifting, judging how long it would take for him to pull himself under in its charcoal abyss.
Itachi always did have a slight discretion with drowning.
The old floorboards did not creak as Madara agilely moved his way behind Itachi, taking his sweet time, knowing the other would not risk his precious village and brother to stop him. The house was silent, save the occasional whoosh of air of someone sighing from a pleasant dream laced with oblivious content. The air was stagnant, settling atop Itachi's shoulders where it would remain until his last breath in a dank cavern far from here.
Madara's breath was frigid as it fanned the ANBU's neck, hairs rising despite his trained stillness.
"Uchiha Itachi, you are a foolish, little boy."
The night waited, chest heaving, stars twinkling as Itachi calmly replied.
"He will kill you."
But Madara only grinned further, voice waning into the night, cold fingers caressing Itachi's cheek, leaving lovely icicles in its wake.
"Because you can not."
- -
"Aniki?"
Itachi turned, charcoal hair blowing softly in the whispering wind, and watched his little brother silently - waiting for his soft lips to take another breath.
Sasuke did not fail his expectations, "Will you show me kage bunshin tonight? Please? I want 'tou-san to see!"
Itachi kneeled in front of his younger sibling, words still stuck in his throat, and lifted a finger, poking the child's forehead, trying to block out the image of blood cascading down Sasuke's older skin while his own eyes fade to grey. The smaller Uchiha pouted, already having memorized the phrase his brother will utter in that velvet voice of his. Itachi still had his hand poised in the air, still placed on his skin, still kneeling in the dirt, sentence still perched on his lips when Sasuke huffed and turned away.
He already is gone, bag lunch in hand, off to the academy when Itachi finally mustered the gall to speak to the empty air –
"Forgive me, Sasuke."
He does not say those words later that night when the moon is painted in tones of scarlet and burnt mahogany. He doesn't say them when his brother screams why nor when the tears slip down and paint the blood-crusted ground. Instead, he pushes those words far back into his mind, swallowing the image of young eyes widened in bewilderment, still encased with love, to later return to when his days are filled with mindless insomnia.
Rather, he says "Hate me, despise me..."
Because Itachi is a realist.
And he knows that to continue to love would be so much more painful.
- -
Kisame was never close to Itachi, the younger man's few spoken words creating a deep trench between them, but still, the shark-featured man still wondered...
Itachi is seated upon a boulder, snow falling in tiny flakes around him, covering the red and charcoal he has come to adorn. The two-man team are on a break, resting in the chilled climate of the north, fire dead and hands frozen.
His eyes are far away, not a deadly crimson, but a quiet charcoal, seeing past the expanse of ivory out towards something much warmer and bright. Kisame leans on his sword, the bandages not preventing a small prick here and there upon his blue-grey skin, and watches.
Itachi does not make comment, merely keeping still, drowning in white.
- - -
A/N: Ooh that was a little rusty. I haven't written in ages! I've forgotten what a plot feels like – which is probably why this one is so..nonexistent.
Alright manga-readers, this one's for you. I've taken the idea from manga chap 396 (I think it's on the last few pages) and converted into a messed up timeline. Basically? Itachi makes a deal with Madara concerning the whole clan thing, which in time will protect both the village and his brother ('Kishi said it, not me). I didn't go into how it would since I'm awaiting that explanation myself. In the next scene is the day of the murder and the last vignette is just a little insight on the whole 'mystery' of Itachi and how even Kisame was sort of wondering if there was more to him than the exterior.
So yeah, major spoilers (and I'm currently really bummed that Tobi isn't who I really wanted him to be..), so no flames about that 'cause you had been warned!
Sorry for the crappiness, I must work my way back into the swing of things.
'Till next time,
- - H. 92