Prologue: Ghosts

Warning: (T) Mild talks of Gore.

Rating: (T) Pre-teens are a hard pass.

Pairings: Itachi/Izumi, though that's it. It'll... make sense, I promise.

Summary: Itachi dies following his plan for the brother he loved more than life itself. At least, he thought he died. Imagine his surprise when he wakes up not to darkness nor light, but to several versions of himself, and an older, mature man carrying a Rinnegan who claims to be his little brother. - [Dimensional/Time Travel, of a sort.]

A/N: Ah... I was going to write a piece for Kakashi instead, but I'll get to that later. For now, some family angst and pain. I wonder...

Hello! I'm Ana, it's nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy this story. Let me know if there are any mistakes or certain things I should work on... I'm testing something out for this story.

Enjoy.


[. . .]


"People's lives don't end when they die. It ends when they lose faith." - Itachi Uchiha.


[. . .]


Prologue


[. . .]


He felt it pulse and stop for a short second in time only to begin again.

It echoed—silently, almost, with a hiss in his deafening ears. A warning... of his purpose.

The sky was dark. Sad, as so easily the skies cried for him and rumbled his soaked hair, scratching in burns to the numb skin he knew grew paler the more crimson appeared. Crimson that he had done to himself, and would never think of stopping.

It ached. It damaged so much, for him.

He kept going anyway.

It stopped. Not the iron flowing from his sights nor the pain, but the organ that reminded him it was time.

His heart.

Similar to the clicking noise of a clock, it caught, paused, and then started again.

It refused. His soul knew, his brain begged him to finish, but his heart didn't want it.

Didn't... will itself to.

His heart was tired. It was heavy.

It was hurt.

Tired, because he carried so much and kept it solely to himself because no one was allowed to help him carry it. Heavy, because he kept it enclosed in the center of what he lost most.

And hurt, because his life was not his choice, but his burden that he acknowledged he needed to fulfill to keep the one he loved most alive. The one that deserved it all, alive.

It stopped.

And his clock started again.

Closing, squeezing, choking, and then opening with every staggard, exhausted step he took, he focused, trying his best. Slow, but with effort.

Losing, but with peace.

He faced the petrified eyes—the eyes full of brittle confusion and disbelieving hate head-on—thinking, always and finally, with love and nurture.

Sacrifice...

The atonement that must be done for the love of not only his village but his family.

He could see the betrayal so clearly in front of him despite the blood stinging his dried eyes, and despite the rain that flowed heavily downward, it was evident enough that he stood against a rock, coated with ghosts of loss and war he would have never wanted upon someone like him. His breathing was ragged, mimicking his brother's own. The pricks of clear liquid mocked him of his life behind raining clouds, but he saw no hate, nor did he feel any.

It was peaceful as the corpse walked.

By now, he was convinced. His life was etched in stone, perfectly planned.

He lived what he came to serve as.

And he would die by that will he gave himself.

He did not think anything of the despair that gave way to his brother's face as he raised his bloodied hand.

He did not think anything of the breaks he felt falling from his perceptions of grief as he continued forward.

He did not think of anything when he reached he who has remained neglected yet loved the most in his life—the one person he loved dearly in his wretched, tainted heart with every last droplet of bloodied war within his darkened soul—his family, that he now touched with two points to scathed skin on the very center of his head.

Sasuke.

And he did not think of anything but peace when he smiled at his brother...

One.

Last.

Time.

I'm sorry.

He did what he had to. He finished his final, and only, wish.

He was free.

This is it.

He didn't need to fight anymore.

It was time.

With a final, wistful, attempt of love he had wanted to show his brother for so long, his face crumpled with grief.

And he gave in to the years of torment and pain... with hope he thought he would never feel again.


[. . .]


Until he woke up in another place. A lighter, almost translucent, place.

"He's awake."

His hard eyes opened to meet similar colors of ebony and blurred dark figures behind the owner of such colors.

And a face he could recognize as his own.


[. . .]


A/N: Well would you look at that... My shitty writing in Itachi. Damn. I'd never thought to see the day...

Toodles~

Ana.