Find your happiness

Disclaimer: Sakura and TenTen wouldn't exist if I own Naruto. And Shizune would hurry up and heal Neji and Chouji. ::Angry face::

jinky-kurapica requested Itachi, so here it is. This is how it came out, certainly different than I expected that it'd be, and it has lots of Mary-Sue-ness on "the artist's part. It's a pretty long chapter...

My dream that night had been a strange one indeed. I had been a small child, only about four, and I was singing along to the melody of a music box. The melody was familiar to me, yet strange at the same time. A man came up from behind me, and put his hands over my eyes, so I couldn't see him. He whispered into my ear,

"If you stop living, I'll come back for you. I'll come back for you if you never change. Stay the same, and I'll be there for you, okay?" his deep, yet feminine voice also seemed familiar. His long hair tickled my cheek, as did his breath, and I nodded.

"I'll stay the same for you...I'll stop living," I told him, and then I dug a grave for myself, and sat in it, waiting for it to be covered.

I couldn't stop thinking about it, and it was weird, because usually I woke up and didn't remember my dreams. I really only had them when something important was happening.

But what? Nothing that I could think of was scheduled for today, and it didn't seem likely that any of my friends would be in trouble... and the dream, if it was in fact symbolic, I could find it in no way symbolic to the Ramen shop closing down. And those were the only things I could think of that I'd need to know about in advanced.

The day started off normally. Normally for someone of my social stature anyways. I got up early in the morning, and sat in the town square sketching randomly, and waited for my friend to get to work, so I could chat with her and eventually get her fired. But that wasn't my immediate intention. My immediate intention was to sell some art to her stand, and make some money so that I could afford that months rent and buy some new clothes, as well as new art supplies. I was dead broke.

It occurred to me that I was doing near to nothing with my life, ever since my brother died, I had stopped living. Using my laziness and artistic-ness was a way to escape my life, and now I could remain a little kid, doodling pointless things and waiting for my brother to return home from a mission. But that all changed when I was eight years old, and a jounin came home. My mother and father were on vacation, and I had been under the care of my brother. He asked me for my parents, and I told them they were gone. He bit his lip, thinking of how to tell me,

"Er... well, do you have any close friends that can take care of you?" he asked me. I shook my head,

"My brother takes care of me! He's a chuunin, and he's thirteen, and he's the best ninja EVER," I said, excitedly, about to tell him of all my brothers cool Justus's when he placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Well, kiddo', he certainly was a good ninja. He was my student as a genin, and I'm sorry to tell you, but... err, he may not be coming back..." he said. I bit my lip, and looked up at him in confusion, begging him with my eyes to elaborate.

He sighed, "Your brother is dead, kiddo. He was murdered by a Shinobi from the mist village, and believe me, when we catch him, he will pay." He told me. I didn't really understand death, but at the time, it meant I had to be alone. No more hugs, and late nights spent watching him train. No more brother.

"...Ehrm?" I asked. He sighed, and looked in the ground for a bug, finding one, he held it in his hands,

"The bug is alive right now," he said, and then he brought his hand against his other ones in a smacking motion, "And now it's dead," he said, showing me the dead cricket. I looked at the dead cricket, and started crying.

"And now imagine this cricket is your brother..." he elaborated. It seemed as if time stopped. My brother was a squashed cricket? He was in the palm of some guys hand, bloodied and guts all over the place. Even at the time I was a very creative child, so imaginative that the mental image in my head of my brother like that made me throw up.

I started noticing that being a ninja wasn't just about being uber awesome. So many people were dying, so many people were getting hurt, and hurting others, that even though I wanted so much to avenge my brother, and make his murderer pay, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't train myself to hurt people. It was just too much. What if the guy who killed my brother had a little sister just like me? I would be depriving her of a brother, and that wouldn't be fair.

Eventually my friend opened her art stand, and beckoned me over to where she stood. She asked me for anything new, so I dug through my portfolio, finding an abstract painting I did of a kid I saw shop lifting in a convenient store, and a castle with lots of faces hidden in the bricks, that you could only see if you looked hard enough. There were faces of everyone I knew, but the most obvious one was the face of my brother, and hidden in the Japanese willow tree was a sharingan eye. I had no idea where I had gotten the idea for that, but I had started this painting many years ago, the day my brother died, so I wouldn't remember anyways. I had made many changes to it, the day I started it, it was a doodle done with crayons.

"You finally finished it? I've been waiting like, forever for this new version!" she said, excited. I nodded. My brother died exactly seven years ago. And now that that version was done, I would start a new one. The one I had just given her was version seven.

My friend never sold the paintings with my brother's face. She bought them herself, and had them all lined up. I never removed any of the faces, but I added to them frequently. People who died, people I love, people I hate. They all go into the building, and if you search out for your own face, you would find it eventually, maybe not in the latest one, but eventually everyone would be on that castle, hidden somewhere.

She payed me upfront. I thanked her, smiling brightly, and walked to the nearest art supply store, then I'd go to a thrift shop, then the grocery store for food that wasn't cup ramen.

I wonder if any of my brothers old friends would be at his grave site... I highly doubted it, but it would be nice to see them. I would go to the monument and talk to him for a few minutes. And then I'd leave before the tears came.

I got to the monument at around seven in the evening. Yes, it takes me that long to shop. So what if I'm picky about my food, art supplies, and clothes. I suppose I was just trying to prolong my coming here. But it'd be rude not to, and it showed him just how much I missed him.

I didn't think I'd enjoy being there. But the soothingness of it all. Being there alone with only me and his spirit... it made me feel totally at peace. I stayed there for a long time, just doing nothing, sitting and staring at his name, Ki Sarasa, thinking of what we'd be doing, how we'd get along if he were here. So much stuff that I wouldn't allow my self to think of at other times.

I had fallen asleep in the grave yard. I dreamt again, the voice was more soothing this time, stroking my hair,

"I'll be there soon, okay? I doubt you'll remember me, but I'll be there. I promised I would, I promised your brother. Ironic, ne? We meant take care of in two very different ways." he placed a kiss on my cheek, and continued to stroke my hair. It was definitely the same guy, but I couldn't tell who it was. I let the dream version of myself sink into his arms, and let him run his fingers through my tangled, short hair. But soon he was grabbing it by it's roots, tearing my hair, making me look up at him.

I opened my eyes, which were starting to form tears in them from the sudden pain. The Hand pulled my head up, and he looked at my face. I hadn't yet adjusted to the dark night sky, and the only source of light was the moon, but that didn't help so much.

"What are you doing here?" the "Hand" asked. I gripped my hair, and gritted my teeth.

"Let go!" I said, and started biting my lip. It was a bad habit, my lips were now chapped and highly unattractive, but it always calmed me down, and helped me think.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, ignoring my demand. I choked back a sob,

"I f-fell asleep," I said. My hair felt like it was about to rip out, and he slightly loosened his grip, but it still felt like he would rip my head off.

"What were you doing, then?" he asked. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I was looking into the face of an ungodly beautiful man, but he looked dangerous and evil.

"I was..." I paused to take a breath. I didn't like pain if it wasn't self inflicted, "visiting my brothers memorial site. He died--- seven years ago," I told him, in-between held back tears. I was crying not only about the pain, but I was also crying for my brother. I hadn't really talked about it with anyone. I'd just resorted to hiding it in mellow dramatic angsty poetry, short stories, and paintings.

"Your brother was Ki Sarasa, right?" he asked. I nodded. He let my head go, but then gripped my hand tightly.

"I was an Anbu captain by the time he became a chuunin," he told me. I shivered, and was unsure of what to say. "He was killed during the Jounin exam, no?" he asked. I nodded. He twisted my arm a little, as if demanding something from me, and I wanted to give him whatever he was demanding but I didn't know what it was.

"And at the time, a lot of his friends consoled you. Told you that once you became a ninja they'd honor you as him..." he elaborated, continuing to apply pressure to my wrist. I screamed in pain. I recognized who this was, but I didn't recognize his newly found cruelty. Well, I don't know if it's newly found or not, but

"Yes... I, I didn't want to meet his fate," I said, quivering.

"You could've become like him, Ruri-Sarasa," he told me. I tried to twist my hand out of his grip, but it didn't work.

"But I didn't. I'm happy with my life," I blurted. He smirked,

"Ironic. I followed my ambition, my dream, and I wind up awaiting the day my little brother kills me. Yet you, you gave up living, gave up your dream and you're happy," he said. Tears filled my eyes.

"But at least you didn't give up," I said, "I couldn't continue living because I no longer knew how life was supposed to look..." I whispered. He patted my head. Like old times. It made me sad that Itachi had turned into such an evil guy. He used to be my favorite of my brothers friends/peers. I had only met him once before though, and that was right after my brother was killed. He told me at the time that if I became a ninja like Ki, that I'd take his place in their realm of their social status. But I knew it was an empty promise, so I became an artist instead.

Itachi... what went wrong? I would never understand why you gave it all up. We sat in silence, and I pondered. He hadn't yet released the tight grip on my hand. But I didn't care. The pain felt appropriate in a symbolic way. And it felt soothing, like I was letting myself feel pain, since for so long I wouldn't let myself feel emotional pain.

But I knew someone who needed this therapy much more than I did, so I got up.

"Itachi... may I go?" I asked. He hesitated. "I won't tell anyone that you're here,"

"Stay," he told me. I was scared. More scared than I'd ever been. For some reason it scared me more that he wanted me there than when he was just trying to hurt me/ find out why I was there. But there was no way I'd disobey, I wasn't stupid. Well, not all the time. Ok, so most of the time, I was pretty stupid. But disobeying a mass murderer who just wanted someone to spend a few minutes of their time with him was stupider than I cared to be.

I sat back down. He was six years older than I was, and a year older than my brother would be.

I couldn't even begin to understand what was going on in his head when he murdered his family. I wondered what he needed to accomplish. And I doubted it was strength. There had to be something else in there. But I wasn't going to ask. I looked at his cloak, and I wondered vaguely if he wore boxers with the same print as that cloak.

I shook the thought out of my head, smiling vaguely. The thing that struck me most, (and I only knew this because the author wants a decent conversation...) about Itachi, wasn't that he killed his family. If I had a clan that dressed in their emblem so obscenely, I bet I'd kill them all too. But it was the fact that he told his brother to hate him,

"...Why'd you tell your brother to hate you?"

He smirked, "So that he'd have a reason not to kill himself. I didn't kill him because I love him, and I figured if he didn't have a purpose, he would most likely be found the next day with a knife in his head," he said. I nodded. It made sense, and in a weird, sadistic way, it was sweet.

An awkward silence followed that, and I hoped he'd let me go home.

"Err, I really should go, "I told him, after a few minutes. He smiled sadly, leaning up against my brothers tombstone.

"Have a good life, Sarasa," he whispered. I nodded.

He reached into his cloak pocket and handed me a piece of paper, before I left. I unfolded it, and smiled. Tears entered my eyes. On the paper was a drawing done in crayon of what I assumed was a monster and a guy with long hair. A smile tugged at my lips,

"You kept it all this time?" I asked. He nodded curtly. I pressed the paper against my chest, and searched through my portfolio, of just a random sketch, and handed it to him.

"Itachi... I hope you can find someone and something that truly makes you happy," I told him, and then I left the memorial site.

But I still couldn't help but wonder if he wore boxers with that red cloud print.

Finished. I'm sorry for this chapter. SOO Mary-Sueish and Itachi is SOO OOC that it made me wanna' puke. But I suppose it was okay... not very much about Itachi and more about Ruri Sarasa... -.-;