The Truth About Heaven
Author: Mask of Mirage
Rating: K-plus
Comments: I don't know where this came from honestly. Perhaps it was the death of a most admired character and just the way Kishimoto-san can put me in an utterly angsty mood. I'm not sure why this one-shot is focused on Catholicism because I don't consider Itachi religious in the least bit and I, myself, am an atheist. Who knows, maybe someone will like it?
Warnings: AU, adult themes and the fact that I may botch some really key aspects of the Catholic religion. Sorry.
Itachi Uchiha never really considered himself as a spiritual person. Looking back on his childhood, he remembered that the extent of his religion was the dusty, old Catholic church his mother dragged him and his brother to when she remembered that mass was being held.
He could remember being so bored as the Father droned on and on about the differences between venial and mortal sins. Itachi could still recall the feeling of relief that swept through his body as the choir sang their last chorus and he was allowed to leave that dreadful place.
Years had passed and he, at twenty-three, was more lost from God than when he had started out. He had got messed up with the wrong crowd at an early age. Seen too many deaths, ruined too many lives and took away too many as well. Yet, he still held on the childish sense of spirituality that he gained from those long hours of kneeling and head-bowing.
His boots tapped awkwardly against the clean-swept stones of the cathedral and the nauseous smell of incense assaulted his senses. He didn't know why he was here, really. It just felt right to come to mass today. Lifting his head, he stared up at the Virgin at Her place above the altar.
Her stone eyes drilled into him and Itachi hung his head quickly, feeling Her lay bare all the sins that clung to his soul. He silently raised his hand and made the sign of the cross; the skin strangely tingling where he touched his forehead, his chest, and his sides.
With an outward show of confidence, much more than he truly felt, he made his way over to the confessional and pushed aside the dark curtain that served as a door. He knelt on the rough boards inside, his eyes growing accustomed to the darkness.
As he bent and kissed the feet of the small crucifix that was nailed to the side of the small booth, he imagined all the millions of sins that had been spoken in whispers in this tiny space.
There was a quiet muttering next to him and the wooden door slid open between them. Itachi could make out the outline of the Father in the gloom and he noticed that his own head was bowed and he was murmuring a prayer in Latin.
Itachi leaned up against the rough wood and exhaled deeply. He never knew why he kept doing this to himself; why he kept coming here Sunday after Sunday. Yet, he couldn't stop the feeling of peace that swept over him when he took a deep breath and made the sign of the cross again.
"Forgive me, Father," he whispered, his voice breaking a little, "for I have sinned."
Author's Note: I suppose it's more drabble than one-shot. I'm starting to miss Itachi already. -sigh-
Mask of Mirage