Violets Never Die
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Wish I owned Sasuke though...
Warnings: Uchihacest and probably a couple of other things too. Oh yeah, un-betaed.
Dedication: Kurosaisei/Ayatsuji-sama because she pwns :D hope you like it -bows-
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A.C.: Uhh I've always wanted to do a Naruto-fic and I believe that I'm finally going suicidal from... graduating into the senior year... yay me... my country has the highest highschool senior suicide rates, we'll see how that turns out... Anyways, this fic is based on a movie that I haven't watched... actually I'm not sure it's a movie at all. Never mind then. --;;
-Takes a deep breath-
This story is an AU. Obito never died, the Uchiha massacre never happened. Itachi's family was broken up during the time Kyuubi ran a mock. Uchiha Mikoto and Uchiha Sasuke are said to have fled when the nine-tailed demon trampled the compound to bits. As a result Fugaku and Itachi live together in a rebuilt Uchiha compound.
Err... Itachi hasn't gone psychotic, he's kinda friendly with Naruto because... Fugaku hates Naruto so in some weird juxtaposition, it makes Itachi friendly with him... somehow.
See plot holes? Blame it on the AU
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It was amazing how what was once a prestigious family had fallen so far. His father bellowed once more and Itachi lowered his head quietly in submission. This was not new; nothing would change if he spoke up. Uchiha Fugaku paced across the worn tatami mats before throwing down his sake bottle at his feet and breaking it into pieces. As angry as he was, not even the inhibited patriarch dared to strike at the Uchiha prodigy before police meeting in the morn. Pain and violence would come afterwards, the sunken eyes promised, if the man had enough strength to stay awake in the morning.
When the heaving yells died down in the cold, empty room, Itachi bade a dimure 'goodnight' before exiting. Closing the door behind him, Itachi leaned his head against the wall in front with a muted 'thud' and let out a sigh too small to be caught by one who wasn't listening closely. Threading his fingers carefully into his pockets, he pulled out a torn photograph. It was obviously well-loved for the edges were worn and yellowing. Itachi had debated getting a protective cover for it but then discarded the idea; the feel of the yellowing photograph seemed to be the only thing real enough to anchor him to reality these days. As much as he regretted observing the slow decay of the delicate photograph over time, it was possibly the only thing left to him of any worth.
Shifting his body for better light, he wistfully traced the outline of the taller figure in the picture. His mother, Uchiha Mikoto smiling brightly at him unsuspecting that only weeks after the photograph was taken, she'd have to flee konoha along with so many others. And on her lap was his obsession, the reason he stayed in the newly constructed compounds of the Uchiha clan withstanding against all of his father's abuse.
It was a child, perhaps not even a year old. The photograph was the only evidence of the child's existence. Too many hits on the face and head had robbed Itachi of the child's name, of the child's gender, of the child's existence. It was one thing that Itachi truly hated his father for, the theft of his sibling's identity. No matter how drunk the man got, the Uchiha prodigy could never get him to divulge the information on the better half of their family. It was almost as if Fugaku was determined to forget they existed at all. And it was at times like those Uchiha Itachi realized just how much Fugaku had loved his family.
Clenching his fist he carefully thumbed the cherubic face, committing each and fine detail to memory. The babe took after his or her mother, even at that early age. Already the black eyes were glowing with curiosity, raven dark hair sticking up left and right in an unruly fashion. A pale starfish like hand was fisted and waving at the camera and for a moment Itachi let a smile slip before clamming up again and closing his eyes.
He didn't want to forget, he couldn't forget, he wanted to see his sibling, he wanted to see his mother, he wanted his family back, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted... but he couldn't get it. So he waited, even though the rational part of his mind screamed at him that they were dead, they were all dead and that he would be too if he didn't get the hell out there while he could. But he waited, seeing the faint trickle of Uchihas coming back from all across the country, he waited and have been ever since.
Any new faces he saw, he asked (interrogated) of any news of his lost family. Over time bits and pieces had come together to tell him of what he had already known deep in his heart. Uchiha Mikoto had fled as far as possible during the war and the nine-tails attack that had followed, at her husband's request, taking the youngest with her. According to the far and few that had stayed with her during the chaotic period, they had made it over to the Water country where other bijyuus (fortunately weaker) had claimed hold over the land. They had split some time down the line, Mikoto lost and weary, traveling as far as she could while speaking the language. Mikoto Uchiha had been one of the best translators of Konoha when off-duty. Itachi knew that within the water country, she could have gotten to the eastern most point before stopping. From that point on, she and her youngest had dropped out of existence, changing their name to wait for a time when things might be safe enough to attempt crossing the watery border between Water and Fire. If she hadn't come back by this time, she was probably dead, or so his rational side told him.
Even if his little brother or sister had survived... what were the chances of a child surviving out there without a mother? If they had lived they would have been in their late teens by now.
Small bursts of unfamiliar chakara caught his attention. Hastily tucking the photo in his shirt (he found that unless he was on a mission, the picture took lot less damage in his shirt) he jumped up on the rooftops to see what was going on. The moon was only a crescent, not nearly bright enough to illuminate the skyline of Konoha. But he held his breath and waited.
In the moonlight, four shadows sped over the rooftops. The moonlight reflected off of their various masks and Itachi realized that they were all ANBU. He recognized Kakashi's crow like one to Obito's owl-like mask. Then the two in the middle, new, and probably from a different country from what he could see of their uniforms. A large man with a plain mask with blue markings alongside a smaller form donning a wolf-mask ran between the two of Konoha's ANBU. The one with the wolf-mask paused briefly, their head turning his way, before the one in plain mask signaled him to keep up. Kakashi, spotting him, broke off from the lead signaling others to stop as he jumped over towards Itachi.
"Yo Itachi, fine night isn't it?" the silver haired shinobi pulled his mask off, revealing a handsome face and dark gray eyes. The trio behind him watched in interest as Itachi stood up, revealing himself from the shadows.
"Kakashi-sempai," Itachi greeted politely. "Who are they?" and as Kakashi began to explain, Itachi looked sideways behind his elder's shoulders and at the two foreign ninjas. The large one he recognized easily and he berated himself for not remembering the obviously blue skin and hair. The second one however was a stranger, he had never felt such a smooth flow of chakara before or had he? Yes, there might have been a gennin, or someone of a lower rank loitering around the Mizukage's tower as he and Kisame checked in for a mission. To think that a genin had made such progress in that short of a time surprised him.
Itachi narrowed his eyes for a closer inspection. The ANBU was of a slim build but not thin by any means. Even in the poor lighting beneath the moon Itachi could clearly see that he was wiry, pound for pound with coiled muscles. His stomach gave a quiet jump; the presence of the wolf-masked ANBU excited him for some reason. The expanse of moony skin between the chin and the body-hugging shirt, and the open stretch of pale shoulders to his bare finger almost seemed erotic. Almost as if agreeing, his stomach gave another appreciative flip-flop.
"ANBU from the mist, one's someone you already know... ah... Kisame?" Itachi nodded, once at Kakashi and another at the shark-like man. They had worked well together despite the differences in training. The Mist-nin was definitely one of the better partners he had in a long time, it didn't hurt that Kisame was one of the 7 mystic swordsmen either. "It's some sort of an exchange program, the Mizukage is sending one of their best to teach some of the slack-assed ANBU we have in Konoha and in exchange the mist-nins will learn about our strategy and tactics."
Itachi frowned. The Mist had never been friendly with Leaf. The Mist had been never been friendly with anyone because it was geographically separated on all sides by a body of water. Usually the Water country never even bothered to participate in the political power plays between other countries, preferring to stand on the sidelines keeping to themselves.
Itachi narrowed his eyes.
"Isn't that dangerous?"
Kakashi shrugged, putting his mask back on his face.
"It's more to promote the relationship between the mist and the leaf. In fact, the smaller guy," Kakashi nodded towards the trio. "Can't speak much of our language, it seems that Kisame came to translate." Suddenly, as if he remembered something, Kakashi let out a small 'ah' before digging into his pockets. "Orders from the Hokage." Kakashi said finally, tossing the raven-haired man a tightly bound scroll. Itachi raised an articulated brow before unrolling the scroll and skimming though its contents. "You're required to report at 6 am sharp or face the consequences." Kakashi returned to the little group. Kisame gave a familiar mock-salute while Obito waved at his relative. The one with the wolf mask stayed still for a moment, Itachi could have sworn he saw through the porcelain and into the night-black pupils as the mist-nin gave him a polite bow. And one by one they followed Kakashi's lead, making their way towards the Hokage's tower.
Itachi stayed rooted to that spot on the roof for a long time. For the first time in years the memory of his family was pushed towards the back corner and a wolf-mask -hollow eyed and splattered in red- haunted his dreams.
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A.C.: About Itachi forgetting his sibling's name... in some cultures you didn't name a child until they were at least 100 days old. Because child mortality rate was so high during the ancient times, they put off naming their children just in case you know, they fell over dead. So uhh... Sasuke technically wouldn't have been named until he was at least three months old or something.
You know... I could be studying right now... or finishing up my other fanfics
But this looked so lonely (wtf...) all alone in my documents folder!
Don't expect regular updates m'k?