Disclaimer: I own no one. Isn't that unfortunate?
Rating: PG-13.
Randomly-inspirited, a oneshot that may be continued.

"Pathetic. No training, no skill. And you call yourself a high-ranking nin of Konoha?"

Her chest was heaving, lungs fighting to take in more air. Her breaths came out in pants, and her throat burned. He merely stood, back against a tree, arms held loosely at his sides. The heavy, black and red cloak that he normally burdened himself with was gone, carelessly draped over a waist-high shrub. Sunlight dappled the area where he stood, casting organic shapes along the crown of his head.

"If you plan to succeed in the way of the shinobi," he intoned, raising his head and pinning her with a dark, maroon gaze, "I suggest you quit now." His voice was a soft baritone, a gentle whisper that somehow spoke volumes. His blunt criticism shouldn't have affected her, but it had. His words bit deeply, if only because it was what others she knew were too polite to voice. She tossed him a glare, forcing the hurt into anger before he could pinpoint the emotion in her eyes.

"What do you know," she bit out, grinding her teeth together so hard that it hurt. "What the hell do you think you know." She moved, a quick blur of motion, of action, sending two objects spiraling through the air towards her intended target. He avoided them easily, dropping from his slouched position into a sitting one, the twin pair of shuriken penetrating the bark's surface where his head had been.

He lifted his knee into a bent position, his other leg stretched out perpendicular to his torso. Resting the elbow of one arm on bent knee, he allowed the other to drop harmlessly onto the forest floor. Idly flexing his fingers, he looked away from her, choosing to examine the area around her instead with a detached gaze. When his words finally came, they were more soft-spoken than usual, with a repressed sigh that was easy to miss. "I know much more than you think, Sakura."

The realization that he had used her name—not girl, not woman, not little kunoichi, but her actual name—was lost on her. Her anger skyrocketed, infused with hurt, mind suffusing with memories that pained her more than just a little. How dare he—this, this inconsiderate, emotionally-incapable ass. How dare he criticize her, poke fun at her, a person he didn't even know, and then profess to know, to understand, what she had been forced to go through? How dare he…

Fury blinded her, clouding her mind, forcing her actions before she could stop to think. Her bare fist connected with the tree's trunk, centimeters from his ear, splintering the wood, hand fracturing with a sickening sound. And finally, she broke. Maybe the pain that lanced through her had been the catalyst needed… she didn't know. The tough façade, the vision of a hardened exterior and interior, cracked. Salty droplets leaked from the corners of her eyes, and she fell against him, forehead pressed against his collarbone, hands clenching the material of his shirt in a white-knuckled grip.

He didn't make to comfort her, nor did he make any effort to move away. He merely sat, immobile, her body curled in the area between his legs. Red faded into stone-black onyx as the faint scent of cherry blossoms wafted to his nose, and he trained his now-normal gaze on the shinobi before him. "Too emotional," Itachi murmured, lips moving a hair's breadth from her ear, even as he found his arm clasping her to him, his chin pressing down against her head.

'Long lost words whisper slowly to me…
still can't find what keeps me here,
when all this time I've been so hollow inside.'

—Amy Lee.

Hope you liked.