How I imagine Itachi's life after death.
A Black Sea
The Darkness was suffocating.
It squeezed him, and with every struggle and protest It tightened Its grip. He could not remember who cast this black cloth over his eyes, couldn't recall why he was led into this abyss. The Darkness seized all thought, crushed every emotion and feeling beneath Its mighty heel. His mind was not present in this endless, moonless midnight. His body was gone, and he was drifting detachedly amid a sea of colorless pushes and pulls.
His initial panic gave way to a calming brand of resignation. He allowed the Darkness to fold Itself around him and close Its lid, leaving him encased in Its velvety coffin. His grip on himself slackened until finally he released the strings that tied him to his consciousness, and he waded further into the sensation of being empty and free.
And, in the Darkness, his brain was silent. The troubling quakes of his mind were gone, blown away in the black-winged breeze that stirred the onyx sea he was submerged in. Memories fell away like the binds of a newly freed man. The vitriol and spite of his ever-roaming thoughts was soothed and cooled like effects of ice on a burn. And after being held to the flames for so long, he was grateful.
He did not know how long he spun and floated in the Darkness. Time was nonexistent; a word that no longer held a meaning. Sometimes a coherent musing would surface, a faint ribbon of a past event that escaped the Darkness's hold. He loathed these moments, when things that he'd forgotten came back, angry at being ignored. But always the memory was torn away by the unfailing Darkness, and was shackled again with the rest of them at the bottom of that endless ocean.
And he was glad. He was grateful for the Darkness, for its constancy and its loyalty; for its protection and its shield. In the Darkness his old world, his old life, could not disturb him. In the Darkness he was alone. He had no one to speak to, no one to hate or love or miss when they were gone, when they were ripped away from him.
For him, this Darkness was the best sort of world.
For him, this was Heaven.
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