Itachi Uchiha was being haunted again.
He woke up in the middle of the night, his vision blurred by his lingering nightmare.
"You MONSTER!"
The woman's shrill screams echoed throughout his head, even as he came to full consciousness. He pressed his face into his hands, hunched over. Minutes later he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet noiselessly touching the floor.
The Uchiha stood, intending to go wash his face, but stopped, his anbu training ordering him to check the traps he had placed. He sank to his knees, limbs sore, and looked around, not expecting to find anything out of the ordinary.
The shreds that remained of the seal he had placed near his bed said otherwise.
His chakra enveloped the room and he lunged towards the window, snatching a kunai in the process, and fending off an assortment of weaponry that shot out of the darkness that consumed the opposite corner.
"Yu Nanzo. I knew there was something odd about you." Out of the shadows stepped Toukou, much to the Uchiha's dismay. His sharingan, which he had subconsciously activated after finding the torn seal, glowed faintly, darkened by his facing away from the window.
"After meeting you on the boat, and watching you examine this inn... Did you really believe I'd leave you alone? You walked around the Mizukage's building three times, doing nothing more than stopping by a tea shop on the way. Whatever you're after... You won't be getting it. I'm collecting the bounty on your head, Uchiha." Toukou spat the man's name, tearing his blade out of it's sheathe and lunging.
This time, however, Itachi had his sharingan.
The raven-haired man was sitting on his bed again. The window on his right allowed in bleak amounts of moonlight, enough to illuminate a square of the floor. In that square was a severed arm. Splotches of blood patterned the wood. The metallic scent enveloped the entire room, choking the sole living resident.
He rubbed his eyes, feeling dizzy. Wordlessly, he got to his feet, pulling his bag over his shoulder. He opened the window to a gust of chilled wind that whipped the scent of blood out in less than a second. Outside, rain fell heavily; the makings of a thunderstorm.
It was roughly one in the morning when Itachi Uchiha ventured into one of the worst storms Kirigakure had faced in three years. No longer caring for his disguise, he trudged away from the inn. Whatever small amount of body heat he could conjure was instantly ripped away by a merciless gale.
Rain fell like bullets, not necessarily helping his sore muscles. It was all he could do not to constantly think about how miserable this mission had turned out to be, and how when he got back he would give Kisame an extra apple. He would keep the 'why' portion of that seemingly selfless deed to himself, though. No need to announce he was wrong.
His thoughts eventually came full circle as he kept his head down, trying to reduce the sting of the 'harmless' drops of water that pelted him with the force of lead.
Never again. He swore to himself, only distantly able to make out the shape of the Mizukage's building through the surrounding gloom. Lighting lit up the sky for a split second before it was transcended by an inescapably loud boom that he would firmly believe could be heard all the way from the Akatsuki hideout, just past the western border of the Land of Fire. The trees around him were torn from one side to the other, their branches hissing, and occasionally snapping.
After what seemed to be an eternity he arrived at the base. His plan had been to wait until the guards switched, but in this weather he couldn't even see the guards, let alone jump them at the impeccably right time.
He deferred to his default strategy; waltz in.
Two minutes later he was surrounded.
Not my brightest idea.
He unleashed a flurry of attacks, aided by the confusion the raging storm brought, the blinding flashes of lightning equally slowing them all down. Half an hour later, the ones who could walk went desperately calling for reinforcements. The Uchiha dashed into the complex, skirting various hallways and simply attacking anyone who blocked his path.
He eventually found his way to what seemed like the Mist's base of intelligence. He barred the doors, not that it would help, and dragged his water-heavy body to the files, trying not to soak them with the drops that were now forming puddles wherever he walked. He flipped through the papers, leaving spots of wet wherever his fingertips met the pages. His eyes quickly scanned each one, carelessly throwing the ones he didn't need to the floor. Soon a massive pile had built up, making it nearly impossible to contain the water he carried with him.
He dropped the papers in his hands and spun, facing the entrance. As if on cue, a group of shinobi burst through the door, fanning out into the room and surrounding him once more. I need more time...! He hissed and rapidly formed the handsigns needed for the Water Dragon Bullet Technique. At once a dragon rose from the water around him, some even blasting through from outside, forming a massive creature that writhed and pulsated in the rhythm of the rampaging storm. It hurtled towards the enemy ninja.
That won't last long, they're all trained in water manipulation... What can I...? That was all the time his dragon allotted him. The shinobi, true to their nature, had taken it down, sealed it away, and were now dashing towards him.
I have no choice...
There was a flash of lightning, and the entity known as Susano'o seemed to rise out of it, exploding forth and creating a sizable crator in the ground near the Uchiha's feet. The enemies recoiled in surprise before their jutsu launched towards the specter. The spray encapsulated the entire room for minutes, before it died down and revealed the Uchiha unharmed behind the specter's shield; the impenetrable Yata Mirror.
The battle was over in minutes, and not one enemy shinobi remained. Even still, he knew without a doubt that there would be more. He performed the Water Dragon Bullet Technique once again, sending the excess water out of the already-destroyed metal door. He resumed his search after dispelling Susano'o, trying to keep a level head, despite the chaos of the weather as well as the increasing pressure of his situation.
Several eternities later he found what he was looking for. He read it, read it again, then shoved it into his bag and jumped into another two squads of incoming ninja, who clearly did not expect him to do such a thing. He threw himself outside and ran as fast as he could, knowing all too well that this was now a test of stamina. If he could outrun these ninja, he was home free. If he couldn't, he was doomed.
He really wished he had trained himself harder.
No time for that...! He dashed through the undergrowth, blindly weaving between trees. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and although he could not see his pursuers, he knew they were there. And they were probably closer than he wanted. The thought spurred him onwards, and he hurtled through the vegetation, rain scouring his face.
When he reached the port, he was devastated. The storm, though seeming to have been calming when he was closer in, had not yet reached it's peak over the sea. The waves rolled and crashed against the bank. Running along water was easy, but running across a sea in it's current state was suicide. He swore, adjusted his pack, closed his eyes for a moment and jumped off the bridge.
It was roughly three in the afternoon by the time the Uchiha awoke. He had managed to cross the sea, and had dragged his waterlogged body up the beach and under the shade of a tree before he collapsed out of pure exhaustion. It was by sheer luck that he wasn't noticed prior.
All traces of the horrid weather had vanished, a soft, gentle wind rustling the leaves of the trees, allowing specks of sunlight to touch the Uchiha's limp form. He groaned softly as he opened his eyes. Every muscle felt like it was on fire. He could hardly move in this state, so he let his mind wander.
I'm... Actually kind of thirsty... The notion brought a quirky smile to the man's face, which he quickly regretted, as even the small movement brought an onslaught of pain.
He engaged his abdomen to pull his bag off him, despite his body's screams of protest, delivered as indiscriminate bursts of fire that ignited with every action. His hand brought an herb to his mouth, and it sat on his tongue as he closed his eyes, too tired to chew. A slow numbness spread through his limbs, enabling him to stand, though shakily, and begin his journey back. His mind sluggishly pulled up a blurred map.
Mission... Successful...