Red Sky, by Soelle
Darkening, blood red sky,
Ravens caw the song of the dead,
Black clouds so high,
Their eyes filled with dread.
Please don't forget
It was all an act,
Fear my silhouette
My sanity is not intact.
There is a dark figure running through the trees of the Forest of Death tonight. Although any one who happens to be in the Forest would not notice, due to the figure's skill.
Itachi Uchiha, thirteen year old ANBU Black Ops captain, ran silently through the soft, damp grass, the scent of mildew assaulting his sensitive nose. He had no particular destination in mind, as long as it was secluded.
Minutes passed, before Itachi stopped running. And when he did, he fell to all fours, not from exhaustion, but from anger and despair. His finger clutched and muddy ground and cold wetness spread like death overcoming an assassination target. That comparison and vivid image in Itachi's mind did little to calm him down.
It was then he became aware of a coppery, unpleasant taste in his mouth. Lifting an arm, he wiped his mouth with some pale skin that was still clean, confirming the taste came from his own red, warm, blood.
I'm the strongest shinobi in Konoha, and yet and am foolish enough to bite my tongue while running. Itachi laughed out loud in this thought. Even to his own ears, he sounded insane, laughing at his slip. He has to be perfect…he has to be the best…
As expected of my son.
Itachi punched the nearest tree. Splinters dug into his knuckles, sending sharp pain.
You must train harder, and bring honor to the name Uchiha.
Itachi punched the same tree, with the same fist. Warm crimson liquid dripped onto the ground, dying the mud red.
You're late. It was a simply ambush mission. Why are you so late?
There was a dull crack as the wood broke apart under Itachi's bloodied fist. A crow cawed, disturbed by the noise.
Your mission is to assassinate this family of the Wind Country.
His fist protested any more punches. So he used the other one, resulting in wooden needles in his other fist.
Why, Father?
Itachi pulled out his katana, and slashed at the bark, yelling incoherently, releasing his anger.
…You know better then to ask why.
The tree was nothing more then chunks of firewood now. Itachi slid his katana into its sheath. Slowly, disregarding the fact his fists were releasing a red waterfall, he began to walk back to the Uchiha Estate.
He knew what he had to do.