Konoha was the same.
Itachi was only slight surprised to feel the constricting of his chest when he stepped back into the lands, feeling more than just a little lost. He'd grown up, yes – seen things people more than twice his age hadn't, joined a terrorist organization, probably killed more people than the number of days he'd lived… And yet, the place reduced him to the same stately boy that had stood in the Hokage's Office, terrified but resolute, as he swore to wipe every trace of the Uchiha from the village.
He didn't know what he had expected, but the wave that coursed through him at the sight of the oh-so-familiar buildings was bittersweet. He didn't resent his life, or the situation fate had forced him into. Itachi was merely happy to serve, in whatever little way possible. But he still couldn't quell the love, the pain, the slight feeling of what if – what if Madara's legacy wasn't as insane as the man himself? Where would he be then?
The air felt cool, clear, crisp. The sound of people bustling around was the same. It was still shrouded in the same scent of flowers, and the buildings stood tall and proud against the backdrop of a rapidly darkening sky. Faints wisps of a long-forgotten memory came rushing back at him. His father, dropping him to the Academy. His mother, forcing food down his throat. And Sasuke – oh god – Sasuke…
He wondered, briefly, if Kisame suspected. There was no reason for him to, but he still wondered what the man would say about the love coursing through his chest. Itachi had a brilliant poker-face – he'd been told often enough. But he still wondered, day after day, how he'd managed to hide what he felt so deeply. It should've been inched into every line of his face, every movement of his body. It should betray him, just as easily as Shisui's death had.
And now, here they were, fleeing the village he'd given so much for.
Kisame was unconcerned. He could see it in the other man's movements. Konoha shinobi posed no threat to them – not yet, at least. As they hurried past the streets, hiding besides a tall, empty building Itachi vaguely remembered playing in when he was younger, the older man barked out a harsh laugh. "Still the same, bumbling fools, I see."
Itachi didn't reply. There was no need to. Years of being together ensured that Kisame didn't expect an answer anymore, and was more than comfortable in the other man's silence.
There was a sudden sound of hurried footsteps, and both men froze.
A girl tumbled past, pink hair waving lightly in the soft breeze. Her nose was buried in a large tome, brow furrowed in concentration. She hadn't noticed them, hidden behind the wall as they were, and they were both masking their chakra. Regardless, red seeped into his eyes as he activated his Sharingan.
Itachi had barely thought of stepping out and putting her in a Genjutsu when –
"Uchiha Itachi, the man responsible for the Massacre."
His eyes widened for a second, and from the corner of his eyes, he saw Kisame's hands inch towards Samehada.
Suddenly, the girl scoffed. "You're cute. Wonder why you went batshit insane though." The book slid slightly from her grasp and the pages shifted to give a clear view of a photo of him when he was younger. She tapped it almost absent-mindedly. "Why are the cute ones always crazy?" She asked, almost as if she was expecting him to turn up and give a listed detail of his crimes.
Kisame took a step forward, and almost without thinking, Itachi glanced at him, the order clear in his eyes: Stop.
The girl, meanwhile, had sped past, almost turning around the bend. Still, she continued murmuring to herself. "And you, Uchiha-san." She added almost accusingly. "How do you possibly expect to help me pass the exams?" She sighed tiredly. "No reply. Well, that's expected I suppose. This is what I get for talking to photos."
And then she was gone.
Kisame grunted, stepping out of the shadows, possibly quite annoyed that Itachi had stopped him from maiming yet another person. "Let's go, then. No point lingering."
Itachi nodded, preparing himself for the Shunshin when Kisame's eyes flickered to meet his gaze once more. "Itachi…" the older man began almost hesitantly.
Faced with Itachi's glowing eyes, he gulped audibly. "Never mind."
It was later, much later, when he stood outside Konoha with Kisame, silently saying goodbye to a place that had made him the man he was today, that he realized that a faint echo of a smile still lingered on his face.
He didn't know it then, but she'd be there during his reincarnation, furiously trying to bring another unresponsive body to life, all the while shedding tears he wished he could somehow stop. She'd be older, more worn, more tired and certainly more captivating somehow. She'd look up for a brief second and look through him easily, as if she'd never once spent time in an abandoned alleyway talking to his picture and calling him 'cute'.
It would be in her wet eyes that he'd finally find an answer to his 'what if', and by then, it was almost too late for regrets.
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A/N: A canon-compatible take to my story, Happiness is Relative. The OC can be anyone you want, really, but she's originally based on my character in the story. Give it a chance if you happen to like this. I promise, it's a lot happier.
I'm sorry for any errors. This is based on when Itachi returns to Konoha and takes on Kakashi and the lot. I don't remember much, and they certainly wouldn't have lingered like this, but well. Fanfiction liberties, y'all.
Also, the whole scenario is a nod to Olicity from Arrow.
Happy reading!