Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
A/N: 'sup, gents? About the sequel to Overcast, I haven't forgotten. I never will. I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting. On an unrelated note, reading my old fics and examining my favorite-d fics made me want to BALEET FUCKING EVERYTHING and open a new account. Just a thought.
The kunai easily penetrated bone and pierced brain matter. It took him less than a split second to tug it out and throw it into an incoming ninja's heart, dead center.
Without stopping, Itachi unsheathed a kodachi and sliced through another ninja's neck in one fluid motion.
Father.
He skewered the next one through the stomach and pinned him to the wall, as his hands blurred into familiar seals for a grand fireball jutsu meant for an incoming trio of inexperienced chunnin tightly huddled in a formation. In a blink of an eye, the massive fireball lit up the clearing previously dappled with moonlight. Shadows bled back and cloaked the clearing in darkness, save for the writhing, sizzling bodies cooking in their own fat. Their tortured screams were met with indifferent silence. The crackling that accompanied the roasting smell brought back memories. Memory. That one.
Mother.
He was a killer. A murderer. They were born for bloodshed. Killing those in his way wouldn't faze him in the least. The killing strokes were carefully calculated movements with no emotions behind them. All in a day's work. But sometimes, he had to remember…even killers have hearts, no matter how twisted and blackened.
Shisui.
It was a mission. Plain and simple. He wasn't paid to feel. He was trained to think. To worship cold, unfeeling logic. The mission comes first. Whether he agreed with it or not was not anyone's concern, so long as he maintained a hundred percent efficiency. His loyalty was to the village. To the Hokage. Itachi was to follow orders as a shinobi.
He even had to kill her. Her silken ebony tresses. Her milk white breasts. Her creamy skin. The unexplored mysteries deep inside her. Gone in a spray of vermillion. Beauty frozen in horror.
But he could feel himself change.
His half-baked excuses of "testing himself". His claims of thinking of nothing but his progress as a remorseless wraith. The publicly disseminated 'fact' of him caring and feeling for nothing.
Sasuke.
Now he was starting to believe them himself.
He was the strongest. He had to be. He will be.
His journey was far from over.
Pein. Madara. The Sannin. A host of countless others.
He felt compelled to surpass them all. He found himself obsessing over it with each passing day.
What was he becoming?
Service to Konoha. Service to the Hokage.
I'm so sorry.
He had to do it. The clan was mad. Filthy with its illicit ambitions. Drunk with power. Hungry for more. Lusting for the world.
He was born to stop them. Their savior. Their hero. Actually their executioner.
Death by irony.
Then why was he paying such a steep price? He did what was asked of him. He fulfilled his duty.
He was losing himself. He didn't know what to think anymore. Insanity was picking at the threads of his psyche. He could feel himself slip away slowly. Having the likes of the Akatsuki as his primary source of interaction didn't help things either.
Lost in his thoughts, Itachi left his back exposed as a lone enemy ninja slowly snuck up on him. He tightened the grip on his kunai and leapt, aiming for the jugular. A heavy slab of steel slammed into him, crushing organs and pulverizing bones, and sent him flying. He landed at the base of a tree, the right side of his torso torn open. Broken pieces of bone were showing. Entrails and liquid life spilled out. Itachi flicked his eyes at his partner, also shrouded in the shadows. The previously shattered silence returned to the forest.
"Wow. This is the first time I've actually seen you distracted. You OK?" Kisame's gruff voice hung in the air. Itachi's vivid eyes, gleaming in the darkness, regarded him for a second.
"Forgive me," he silently replied, but offered no further explanation.
Steel returned to his contemplative gaze. The Sharingan never shone so brightly in the dark. His will glow the brightest in the shadows of time. History may bury countless others, but it will elevate him to unparalleled heights.
He stared at the stars above, beyond anyone's reach. Anyone to try so far, anyway. He smirked (and tried to ignore Kisame's raised eyebrow).
"Let us go."