Eternality
Note: CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM NARUTO MANGA CHAPTER 394.
A poke.
That was the only action Itachi could muster through his burning haze of pain, of blood, of leaden fatigue, his heavy hand leaving nothing but a crimson smudge on Sasuke's forehead.
Then he fell.
The stone ground had never felt more embracing. He who had always reached for the sky through his Sharingan eyes in search of more power had never before found the earth to hold such screaming comfort, such innocent grace.
It hurt.
Years and years—his entire lifetime—of seeking the eternal power of a new Mangekyou Sharingan: gone, vanished, vanquished before his sightless eyes. He would steep forever in this garish darkness because he had not the energy anymore to rip his brother's eyes from their sockets.
Thunder rumbled.
He heard the giant creature of the Susanoo sizzle into thin air as he let slip the control of the technique through his weak fingers. As rain slapped onto his lifeless body, he waited patiently—painfully—profusely—for his brother to make the final strike.
End it now, foolish little brother, he whispered silently. Avenge the clan by killing me now.
Now.
Yet nothing came. The rain continued to fall in blunt needles, and the undying black flames of Ameterasu never ceased to consume all in their path.
They are eternal.
Why seek something so profoundly elusive?
A body fell next to his through the rain. Even without his eyes, he knew it was Sasuke.
How ironic;
my abilities are my own undoing.
You're dead
brother.
The clan is avenged
isn't it..
Yes.
You've grown strong.
This was my fate
my end
from the beginning
since
that day.
Thank you.
Closing his blind eyes, he neither accepted nor denied the entangling strands of destiny. Even through the prickly rain and the fervent exhaustion, he felt oddly satisfied. The wrenches of sentimentality divulging themselves in his heart finally loosened—scattered strands of guilt bewailing in pitiful repentance—and drifted off through the blood that now colored the stone and mingled with the rain in acrid, tainted pools upon the earth on which he now laid for his final abode, his final breaths, his final consciousness alongside his only remaining flesh and blood in this oppressive world.
He was unchained—freed—uninhibited. Unwittingly, his pale lips curved upwards.
Perhaps now he could finally reach the eternality he had always sought.
A/N: Written hours after I read chapter 394 when I was... suddenly struck by inspiration. Amazingly, I feel neither sad nor mad at the supposed death of my favorite character. One thing's for sure: it was one helluva battle.
This story is dedicated to Uchiha Itachi.
Naruto (c) Kishimoto