Shallow Days, Dead Skies Ahead
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto
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Uchiha Itachi
"Holding On"
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Itachi began to think he couldn't hold on much longer.
Of course, that was how he felt every time he coughed up blood or fell to his knees from the pain in his chest and in his eyes. But this time was different. Right now, he was such in a state of hopelessness and fear and grief that he really didn't think he could go on.
His fingers trembled as he tried to pop the lid off of his medicine. His arms violently shook as he hiccupped out an ounce of blood, the world fazing in and out as he suddenly felt light-headed.
It was funny. Ironic, more like. The great Uchiha Itachi, known infamously all over the world for the destruction of his clan and his status in the Akatsuki, was huddled in a corner, shaking, coughing up blood, and couldn't even see a couple inches in front of his face to open a plastic lid. Of course, none of these things were what he had dreamed of or wanted, but that didn't really matter right now, did it?
As his vision began to give out again for the eighth time that week, Itachi began to see an image out of the blurry state he was in.
To no surprise, it was Sasuke. A nine month-old old Sasuke with a bright smile, and black shimmering eyes and rosy cheeks was holding onto Itachi's old shirt, also chewing on it thoughtfully. The older brother didn't know why, but that memory was one of his favorites. He could remember coming home from somewhere, he wasn't sure where exactly, and coming into his room to find Sasuke chewing on his clothes. Itachi could only hope that was still Sasuke, not the Sasuke that left his village like his brother and joined up with the snaky Orochimaru.
Itachi closed his eyes forcefully, hoping it would stop the pain. It didn't. When he opened his eyes again, he saw his mother smiling, Shisui holding out his hand to him, and his father placing a hand on his shoulder. He could remember so much of them, but he couldn't quite find the happiness that had been with him during those times… other than with Sasuke. Every memory of his brother was filled with fondness, well, most of them. There were a select few that filled him with rage and hatred toward himself, something that could never be directed at Sasuke.
Oh, there had been such hatred for everyone. He hated his father for devising such a horrid, inhumane coup. For making him do such traitorous things, for making him turn against everything he loved and fought for, despite his pacifist ways. Then there was rage at his mother, for going along with it like there was no problem with it, and agreeing for him to be placed in such a position. Anger at Shisui, for not helping him like he thought he would, or giving him the least bit of advice on something he wasn't sure he could do - and leaving him alone to do everything. Then, of course, there was hurt in where the village elders were concerned, for making him… well, even now it was hard to think about.
But there was no rage, anger, hurt, or desire for revenge against his little brother, the only person he couldn't hate, couldn't kill. He could see Sasuke screaming at him, lunging to kill him, crying with desperate tears in hope that it was all a nightmare, and he still couldn't lay a finger on him. It hurt too much to even think of doing. That time, three years ago, when he had seen Sasuke for the first time since the incident. That night, Kisame had to slap him for him to pull his hand out of the fire, a punishment that could never atone for the pain he had caused his brother.
That look in his eyes. The Chidori was blazing up by his face, lifting his hair as his eyebrows arched. That extensive pain and hate in his eyes was incomparable to anything he had ever seen. Had he really made him hurt that much? Had it made him into some foul, avenger-crazed maniac that only sought his destruction?
Itachi hurt him. It was the painful, devastating, hopeless truth. He had hurt his little brother, after promising himself time and time again that he would never let anything even come close to touching him.
It was the hardest promise to break out of them all.
Tears flooded Itachi's blurred eyes as his fingers continued to fumble with the medicine. His breath was short and his mind felt like it was trying to claw out his skull, and he couldn't take it.
Itachi threw the plastic bottle down on the cement flooring. He covered his eyes with his hands and sobbed, shaking and still bleeding.
His brother, his loving little brother… The one who didn't deserve any of this…
There was a hand on Itachi's shoulder and he stopped sobbing at once as he shot his head up. He couldn't see anything except for a colorful blue and black blob in front of him. For a moment, his heart rose.
"Sasuke?" He breathed, but his vision cleared and saw Kisame's pale eyes filled with pity. Itachi was probably the only person Kisame would ever give that look to.
Kisame handed him the now-open pill bottle, "Here, try not to take too much."
Itachi's eyes watched the bottle, but he didn't take it, "I can't do this anymore."
"Not even for your brother?" Kisame reasoned.
Itachi thought about it for a moment. He was right. Itachi started this mess; he was the one who asked for it, not Sasuke. His brother needed closure, and he would give him closure and hoped it led him on the right path. It was his fault now that his brother was suffering. In fact, his brother was probably suffering even more than himself, and that was all he could imagine. His brother alone, in the cold and lonely world…
Itachi took the medicine bottle. If Sasuke was suffering, he might as well too.
"Thanks."
