Itachi was all alone in the world.
He always had been. Family, friends, fellow shinobi- Damn them. He didn't need them. That was the one thing the elders had pushed into his mind since he was born. You are solitary. You are alone. You will remain steadfast to the clan and stay the same until death- sharp, deadly, the perfect weapon. Alone.
Once upon a time, Itachi felt the need to live up to their expectations. Now he just recalled them as empty words meant to torture him for life.
So many things weighed on his shoulders. He was a new kind of Atlas, bearing not only a physical burden but a psychological one. He held up both the sky and the molten, burning ground. He'd be damned if he'd ever let the white clouds be tainted with black smoke.
Itachi had been convinced that this was his fate, until her saw her, heard her.
He was walking home from school, exhausted from his sensei's repeated praise and just about ready to plant himself headfirst into his bed, when he passed the playground.
Normally, he was forbidden to go there. It was not the Uchiha way, to mingle with civilians. Even if they were fellow shinobi, if they did not sport the famous Uchiha fan, they were trash.
But today, he passed slowly, a hidden force silently coercing him towards the grounds. Then, he heard a shrill squeal.
"Give it back!"
Even in his years of damnation, Itachi looked back upon the sound of her voice as heard by his ten-year-old self, and felt like the world weighed a little less.
Curious, the young Itachi drifted closer to the gate separating the playground from the path until a small sandbox came to view. And in that sandbox was a small sakura-haired girl, apparently being teased by two older boys about his age.
"Aw, does Forehead want her ribbon back?" the one holding the aforementioned red accessory teased. The other one poked her on the infamous forehead, and she fell backwards into the sand. Her frail arms still waved about, as if by doing that she could reach the precious thing.
Itachi frowned. He was well aware there was bullying in the world, but why would anyone pick on such a hopeless girl?
"I personally think she looks better without it. At least then her forehead is covered!"
Now starting to get angry, Itachi felt something he never had in his entire life. Protectiveness.
Without a second thought, Itachi easily climbed over the gate and ran to the sandbox. The two boys looked at him curiously. The one who'd spoken first smirked.
"Are you here to join in the fun?"
Itachi's temper flared as he looked between the two smirking boys and the sobbing pink-headed girl. He swung his hand back and punched the nearest one in the face. He then walked up to the second one and snatched the ribbon from his grasp. The second one went to help the first one, who was clutching his nose and screaming bloody murder.
Itachi paid them no mind as he approached the trembling girl.
"P-Please don't hurt me," she cried.
His eyes softened and he smiled almost imperceptibly as he bent down so their faces were level. Looking her straight in her magnificent emerald eyes, he put the ribbon in her small, shaky hand.
"I'll never hurt you," he promised, oddly meaning every word of it. "I'm Uchiha Itachi. Are you okay?"
From that day on, Itachi was under the impression that he wasn't alone. How could he be, with sweet Sakura (she'd told him her name later) by his side?
At least, until he joined the ANBU two years later.
At twelve, he felt his brain was wiped clean of the memory of the cherry blossom as corpses were flung onto his sword and daggers. His Sharingan bled crimson, just like the victims'. Any bit of innocence he'd managed to gain back was gone forever. The tiny world he'd created with Sakura was shattered.
"Ita-kun!" Sakura cried in delight, her eight-year-old legs somehow managing to reach him without stumbling. She was beaming, and as soon as she got close enough she grabbed onto his hand and held it tight. "You're back, Ita-kun!"
Itachi merely nodded, yanked his hand out of her grasp, and walked away towards to training grounds.
"Ita-kun?" Itachi could hear the fragile trembling in her voice, signaling she was about to cry. Some distant part of him yelled at the rest of him to go back and comfort his cherry blossom, but it was ignored.
Still, he allowed a solitary tear to run down his cheek at the realization that he'd just hurt the one person who actually cared about him.
From that was borne depression, and anger. A deep hate filled his mind and he blamed his family for his early corruption. They were the ones who'd hurt Sakura-chan, not him!
That childish thought replayed itself over and over in his mind as he did as the Hokage asked and murdered his clan in Antarctic blood. But when it came to his little brother, he couldn't kill him. The boy was still so young, the exact age as Sakura-chan, in fact…
He let him live and fled the Village.
From then on, his life (if you could really call it that) was a deadly hell. He was killing left and right, young and old, men and women alike. He killed them all.
But when it came to a little girl with short black hair and the exact same eyes as his beloved Sakura-chan, he hesitated. He settled for sticking a bloodied kunai in the ground next to her unconscious shape.
Any trace of Sakura must live, even if I, as well as everyone else, die…
She was his sunshine, and he made sure she would enlighten the world away from him. She alone would recreate the beauty he'd once beheld.
My cherry blossom…