A/N: Itachi is honestly one of my favorite characters, right up there with Gaiden Kakashi (KAWAII~!) and Deidara (KATSU!) and so I just HAD to do something for him. I cried for two days straight after he died!

I don't own Naruto.

Itachi closed his eyes, falling back onto the soaking ground. The tall spires of rock stared down at him, the long-forgotten gods of an age well past. The stone floors were colder than ice, colder than the block of hoarfrost that had settled in his chest sometime in the last three days. Rain snaked down his face, through silken black hair, soaking through fabric, and Itachi sighed. The last time he'd seen rain…was the last time he'd seen him. Unbidden, memories flashed behind his eyes.


(A dark cavern, walls cracked with age)

(The raven-haired boy, standing before him, sword crackling with lightning)

(A storm of shuriken, sparks flying)

(The chirping of thousands of birds)

(Flowers made of fire, colliding)

(Black flames, everywhere, blood spilling over from underneath his eyelids)

(Vision, blurring, losing clarity until it was like he was blind altogether)

(The gray sky, rain pouring from the heavens)

(A battlefield wreathed in shadow, death, and sorrow for what had died therein)

(A dragon's roar, the lightning impacting the ground with a song like death's drums)

(Red everywhere, surrounding him, enveloping him, cracking what little sanity was left within him)

(White serpents, hissing and spitting with hate he knew was misplaced)

(His brother's hand, stained with blood, his blood, hanging by his side)

(Onyx eyes that flashed to red)

(Falling, falling, falling into the blackness)


He should have died. He should have died. That was the plan, that had always been the plan.

He'd always known the separation would hurt, but he didn't anticipate the utter agony of knowing that he'd never see the one he gave his life, his humanity, himself for again.

His heart ached with the knowledge that Sasuke would always think of him as an evil, as an enemy, as a threat to be eliminated, but never as a brother. That had been lost with their family on the night of the massacre, the night when he had been forced to choose between his clan and his home.

The night everything fell apart. More memories surged across his mindscape.


(A sword slice, another, another)

(Blood splattering his face, dripping down, coating him in a cloak of crimson)

(His mother and father, kneeling before him)

(Sasuke's tear-stained face as he was told it was all just a game)

(The piercing agony that came with the lie that would shape his little brother's future)


He had chosen the latter, if only to prevent another war, and Sasuke had never forgiven him. Not that his little brother knew the truth.

It was easier to push aside the feelings than to face them, he decided in that moment. To keep them locked away, deep in his chest, where they would never be more than a flutter of a butterfly's wings; there, but only just.

But that didn't mean he didn't feel.