and the scarry skies above


want


The sound of shattering glass has them jump apart, and just as quick as Sakura throws up her fists, Itachi's sharingan spins to life on instinct.

Panting and doubled over, Shisui is standing in the middle of Sakura's living room amid a sea of glittering shards, hands propped on his knees and sweat beading from his brow.
"I've been looking all over for you!" he gasps. "Your father…! Your father…" "Shisui, breathe," Sakura interrupts. It takes a moment for Itachi's cousin to compose himself, but eventually he straightens up and continues at a more measured pace, "Your father just met with the council. All–" He throws Sakura a quick glance, then continues, "All orders have been rescinded. We are to meet with them first thing tomorrow morning." He pauses, looks thoughtful for a moment. "You should probably see uncle before. He'll want to talk to you."

Itachi opens his mouth to say something, ask something, do anything, but the sheer relief in his cousin's voice brings him up short. He hesitates, turns to look at Sakura. He holds her gaze for the longest time before giving a tiny, barely perceptible nod. "I will speak to him."

She follows them down the hallway to the door. "Sorry for your window, by the way," Shisui chuckles awkwardly. "I'll send someone to fix it." And he bounds down the stairs and out the main door.

Itachi turns around to look at Sakura. "I'll come find you once everything is settled." Her only answer is a mute nod.

She's leaning against the doorframe, arms curled around her middle, watching him with an intent gaze.

For a moment, Itachi thinks he might kiss her.

But when he bends down, he merely brushes his lips over her cheek, unable to do anything more. His stomach does a strange flip and he thinks that, if hours ago he hadn't been ordered to exterminate his entire family, he might have smiled. As it is, he merely trails his fingers down her arm.

His heart skips a beat when Sakura catches his hand in hers. She looks as if she wants to say something, but then merely sighs and gives his fingers a gentle squeeze.

He can feel her eyes on his back when he turns around to follow his cousin who is waiting outside.

As Shisui takes to the rooftops and Itachi is quick to follow, he looks down, at the quaint little streets, the tiny front gardens some of the houses sport, the calm milling of everyday life, and he can't help but think of how much he wants this.

A boy, about fifteen of age, straightens from his crouched position on a grassy patch and raises his arms high above his head, stretches, like a cat. The knees of his pants are stained green and his fingers are dirty. Next to his feet, there is a sizeable heap of pulled weeds.

Under different circumstances, that could have been Itachi. Once. But if he's honest, never really. Still. He can't help but wish.

They reach the compound soon enough, slip through the main gate where the guards nod at them in greeting. Itachi notes the cracked Uchiha fan to the left of it has been patched up and painted over. They hurry through the narrow streets, which are nearly empty despite it being only early evening, to the home they share.

"Uncle was in his his study when I left. He's probably still up."

When Itachi enters the room, so much smaller than the grand imposing space his father used to call office in their old house, Fugaku is stooped low over his desk. As per usual, it is covered in scrolls and loose sheets of papers and ink pots and brushes, and in as much is the same as it has been nearly every day for the past two years. But when Itachi's father looks up at his soft call, the angry furrow of his brow has smoothed out, and the displeased curve of his lips has morphed into something much softer that could almost be called a smile.

"Son," he greets, stepping around his desk and up to Itachi who is still hovering in the doorframe. "Finally, the tides are turning for our family." Confused as to what has brought about this sudden change in demeanour, Itachi tilts his head in a silent question. As he holds his father's gaze, he tries to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "You can turn this village around, you can lift the housing restrictions placed on our clan, you can do so much good."

He places his hands on Itachi's shoulders, eyes gleaming with triumph and hope and fear.
"Father, I don't understand," Itachi begins, then trails off, unsure of how to continue. Somehow, he doesn't even want to know where this is going.

"Itachi, my child." Fugaku's voice reverberates with pride.
"The council agreed to make you the next hokage."


A/N: Yeah, sorry it took me so long... The story is finished, but I was so unhappy with the way I ended things for the longest time. It felt kind of lacklustre. It still does, to an extent, but after a bit of tinkering I am much happier with how everything turned out. Next update to follow soon.

Lots of love,

planless