Deity
Chapter 1 – Родиться
(Родиться – rodit'sja (roh-deet-syah) – 'to be born', or 'to see the light')
"Does such a thing as "the fatal flaw," that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs."
- from The Secret History, by Donna Tartt
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"He's perfect."
Mikoto gave a sigh heavy with exhaustion and ran a gentle thumb over the babe's cheek. Swaddled in soft white fabric – like the white walls, white sheets, white coverings on the windows – the child stared up at her in that way that new-borns do, with a mix of awe, confusion and curiosity. Beautiful. Innocent. Pure, which meant untainted (though perhaps soon to become).
"Isn't he?"
From where he sat next to the hospital bed, Fugaku nodded, looking just as tired as his wife did if not more so. "He is."
The infant squirmed a little.
"His eyes are blue, though…"
"The nurse said all babies have blue eyes for the first while. They'll get darker with time." Mikoto explained happily. "What do you think we should name him?"
"I think you should get some sleep."
"Funny name." She let herself lean back a little and rest her head against the pillow. "And you're probably right…"
Looking back down at the child – her child, their child, that which they had created, life! in all its glory – she found it amazing how happy she felt. Like there was nothing more in the world she could want.
Like it really was perfect.
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June 9th.
Between the screams of his mother and the bloody waste from the womb that coated him, Uchiha Itachi was born. The fact that he was even conceived was a miracle in itself, as Mikoto had remained barren for such a long time that suspicion of sterility had crept in. However, it had been demolished by the pregnancy test that had finally announced, 'positive'; Mikoto had nearly collapsed in relief. And now, here he was – small, awake, alive in his Father's arms.
Fugaku ended up settling on the name 'Itachi', not knowing why it fit so well.
Itachi was just like any other baby, thought slightly smaller than average and a little quieter as well. He had two proud parents who took care and loved him, a big house (that had been carefully baby-proofed beforehand), a shelf full of toys and baby books and a calico cat that watched him cautiously from the other side of the room.
But this was where the normality ended.
His parents were not sure when it started – of course, he was their first child, they thought, so they couldn't really have known the difference – but it seemed Itachi was a precocious child of the most extraordinary kind. He had picked up words quickly and by the time he was three, he was stealing books from his father's bookshelf and actually reading them to himself when he got bored (that or he would whisper quietly to the cat, who soon lost interest). When they enrolled him in preschool, it soon became apparent that Itachi was nothing like any of the other children in any way at all, and fell far from things like 'average' or 'normal'.
No, Itachi was brilliant.
And Fugaku could hardly be prouder.
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It was uncanny, the way the child smiled. Like he knew things. Like he was thinking things, things he wasn't going to say, but instead keep to himself to dwell on and delve into until he really knew. All secret things.
There really was no way of figuring what sort of things they were either, as the boy chose to talk only of his own accord, often to make a particularly observant comment the likes children of which usually don't (or shouldn't). He laughed at odd times too, in light of things that were not funny in the least. Not to Mikoto, anyways.
In truth, it almost frightened her. She thought briefly – for a second or two but no longer – that perhaps there was something wrong with Itachi. However, the thought was purged from her mind along with her breakfast from her stomach, now floating on the surface of the toilet water. Cheeks flushed and streaked with tears, she tried desperately to swallow the acids burning the back of her mouth, leaning against the bathroom wall for support.
Fugaku stood in the doorway.
"You're pregnant again, aren't you?"
She managed a nod, unable to tell if he was pleased or not, as her bangs had fallen over her face and obscured her field of view.
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The following Thursday, over peas and mashed potatoes that were a little too buttery, Fugaku chose to break the news.
"Itachi."
The clink of cutlery against china. Four year old Itachi looked up, alert.
"Yes, Daddy?"
"You're going to be a big brother."
It was the most human Mikoto had seen their son look in a long time.
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"Nii-san… Nii-san…!"
Itachi dog-eared the page of the book in his lap with deft fingertips while lifting his head to look at Sasuke, eyebrows raised in amused apprehension. The younger boy looked panicked, hands balled into fists at his sides. Trembling.
"What is it now, Sasuke?"
"Kitty isn't moving!"
Itachi sighed, leaning back against the tree he sat under. Rough patterns of bark dug into his back. "She's probably sleeping."
"She's not!" the younger protested, tears beginning to spring up in his eyes. He inhaled roughly. "She's not!"
"You mean she's dead?" said Itachi simply.
And at this, the five year-old burst into tears.
It became evident soon after he was born that Sasuke was not a lot like Itachi. He was a slightly clumsy child, quick to laugh as well as cry and though intelligent, he showed none of his brother's 'genius', as Fugaku was so fond of calling it. But even so, Itachi became rather protective and compassionate of and for his sibling. For this, his parents were somewhat (though only somewhat) glad, mostly due to the fact that their elder child had only shown a remote interest in relationships with anyone else beforehand. Of course, he had skipped from junior kindergarten right to grade one and then went from grade two onto grade four, so his classmates were all years older than he was, so it was going to be difficult. He was in many ways greatly different from them and separated himself with keen deliberateness. Sasuke, it seemed, was one of the only people he ever willingly shared company with.
Yet the time Itachi and Sasuke spent together grew shorter and shorter as the years went by, and Itachi became wrapped up in advanced schoolwork and sports practices he diligently attended. In his closet were rows of uniforms and above them a shelf with photographs and trophies, neatly lined up. They were dusted daily by Mikoto.
Although Sasuke would pester his brother often, he would usually be turned down (and given a glance from his Father that stung for a while after) and told to play with the old cat he was fond of dragging around with him and sometimes attempting to ride on. He had called her 'Kitty' from the time he was small, and soon everyone had adopted that in place of her actual name, which Itachi could no longer remember.
Ten minutes later, Itachi had managed to calm Sasuke down enough to direct him to the spot where Kitty was. Still upset, Sasuke had insisted on his brother carrying him there. He was suspicious of being taken advantage of, yet Itachi complied anyways, hefting the boy up onto his back without complaint.
"T-there…" Sasuke sniffled once they had reached the spot, releasing a hand from Itachi's shoulder to point.
Itachi squinted and he could see, beneath an overgrown fern their mother had planted and probably forgotten about in their expansive backyard, the lower half of a cat with its spotted tail stretched out listlessly in the dirt. It was late spring and dew coated the feathery leaves, wetness glimmering in the hazy sunlight filtering through the flora around them. The world was oddly taciturn.
"I'm letting you down now," Itachi said. Sasuke nodded, and felt Itachi's arms loosen from his knees as he slid to the ground. By the time he had prevented himself from stumbling and regained his balance, Itachi had already crouched down in front of the plant. With hesitant hands, (he had surprised himself, actually, with the amount of time it took for him to actually perform the act), he pushed a large portion of the plant aside, its leaves rattling gently. Sasuke, behind him, whimpered.
Itachi found the scene just as Sasuke described. Kitty lay on her side in the dirt, head tilted on an angle that revealed the soft white of her neck (thick hairs of her winter coat coming lose to be replaced by the fine summer coat underneath). Itachi looked even closer. Her chest did not rise with breath; her tail did not twitch in annoyance as a large bug began to crawl over it. Her eyes stayed closed, and her limbs immobile.
He became aware that he was holding his breath.
It was beautiful in a most indescribable and haunting way. Every detail of the scene was intact, set perfectly; all the little flecks of dirt that clung to her messy coat and the way her greyed whiskers bent to the ground and the precise abstraction of shadow cast by the fern… Like a painting, colours vivid and jumping out to attack his eyes. More real than anything he had ever seen before. No, it was almost surreal. Breathtaking. Beautiful.
Kitty was dead.
"Nii-san…"
He exhaled. "Just a moment, Sasuke."
Small fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt as he leaned forward and gingerly pressed his hand to the feline's chest. He felt sensations magnified to the point of being electric – The light spring breeze that smelled like rain and earth brushing casually against his shoulder. The slight throaty whimpers of Sasuke, and his naked feet kept scuffing at the dirt. The contrast of warmth and lack thereof where his hand dipped from honeyed sunlight into shadow. The softness of Kitty's fur as every individual hair brushed against his palm. Her bones and organs beneath the skin, pressing through. The lack of heartbeat. A silence so full -
He inhaled, and it felt rich.
"Nii-san?"
"Be quiet, Sasuke," he heard himself saying, feeling like he was somewhere else at that moment. His mind begged to stay in such a state of bliss, the words coming slurred and awkward on his tongue. "Kitty is… gone."
A thought struck Itachi: shouldn't he be feeling some sort of sadness right now?
Sasuke started crying once again, clinging to his brother's waist and refusing to let go. Itachi continued to stare at the corpse whilst whispering to him, an attempt at comfort though his voice was quivering – just slightly – as well. He could feel the cool wetness of his brother's face soaking through his shirt and onto his skin.
"It's alright, Sasuke. Kitty was old; things can only live so long before they die. She's probably somewhere better now."
Why did the words sound so forced?
"Mama said… Mama said when we die we go to Heaven… to be with God…"
"Maybe." Itachi stroked his brother's mussed head of hair gently. "Stop crying."
Sasuke shut his eyes and tried. He could feel Itachi's fingertips rub against the nape of his neck.
"We'll give her a funeral, alright? A nice one, out here, before it rains. Why don't you tell Mom and then go get some flowers that Kitty liked."
"The blue ones," mumbled Sasuke.
"Yes. Some blues ones." Itachi smiled. "She'd like that. Now stop crying, there's no need."
"But-but…" Sasuke was unable to look his brother in the eye. "But aren't you sad, Nii-san? Kitty isn't coming back… She's gone! Aren't you going to miss her? Aren't you scared?"
"Scared?"
What if Mama and Dad go away? What if you go away, Nii-san? What if you go away forever and I never see you again?"
Itachi was quiet a while before finding an answer. "That won't happen, Sasuke. I'll stay with you… for as long as I can. I promise. I won't leave you."
"But what if you-"
There was a stir, and the sound of footsteps caused Itachi to draw back – a few moments before he had leaned down to Sasuke and… what would he have done? he mused, as he honestly did not know what he had intended. Mikoto stood a few metres away, concern in her eyes.
"I thought I heard someone crying…" she said. "Did you get hurt, Sasuke?"
"Kitty's dead," said Itachi softly in his brother's place, knowing the younger wouldn't be able to answer without starting to weep again. "We're going to have a funeral."
"Oh…" her eyes followed Itachi's small gesture to the corpse beneath the fern. "Oh, I see. Well, Itachi, you have soccer practice in a half hour, do you want to wait until after, when Dad is home? We should leave soon…"
Her son shook his head firmly. "No. Now is better."
"Alright…"
Sasuke let go of Itachi's waist. "I'll go get the flowers."
As his sibling scampered off and his mother turned to follow, tentative, Itachi took another look at the cat and was once again bombarded with that overwhelming feeling. It wasn't human, no, it was something more spiritual, more animal, more raw, more something… something that tasted all too familiar. Like something he had been wanting for a very long time, a time more than the ten years of his life of then could contain. All of what he knew suddenly seemed overly dull in comparison. Every success he had every had seen, every one of those adjectives that meant the same as the next that meant 'brilliant' now meant absolutely nothing. This was so much more…
A yearning sparked inside of him, eliciting a hissed breath.
The sensation had begun to fade. He didn't chase it, knowing he would be unable to catch it. What was left was just a child in a garden with a dead cat. It was spring. He could smell it.
He exhaled.
