The measurement of time seemed pointless in death. The only need death had for time was for it to run out – the quicker it ran the better. However when the moment arrived for time to dissipate from the mortal realm its existence ironically became infinite; in a sense death had delivered eternal life to time, permitting it to course freely forever.
Yet is there a need for time in eternity?
If there is no ultimate goal to countdown to, then surely there is no need for measuring how many minutes or years have passed? The deceased are to dwell in Yomi without acknowledging time; it only existed in their former lives – a cruel reminder of what has passed and what is to be.
It was this very question that occupied Itachi's headspace. What was to be? For once in his life, if he could still call it that, he didn't have an answer. Ever since the Shikome had captured him alongside Sasuke he wasn't sure of anything- apart from one thing.
It was not the best of circumstances.
He could feel that all familiar feeling of guilt writhing its way around his chest. Despite having accomplished so much in his seemingly short life he, Itachi Uchiha – the killer of the Uchiha Clan, was still not strong enough to save one single clan member; the one clan member who meant as much to him as Sasuke did: Shisui. Even after achieving the clandestine techniques of his clan, he was still unable to save his friend. He hated it. He detested the overwhelming feeling of helplessness that was relentlessly pelting him with barrages of guilt.
And when he thought matters couldn't get any worse, they did.
Sasuke too had been tangled in this mess; Itachi had taken every precaution and followed his plan meticulously down to the final letter that he thought Sasuke would live a happy life and leave the horrors of his past behind him. But that was merely a whimsical dream he had obviously concocted; the romantic in him had hoped Sasuke would grow up and claim the happiness that had been stolen from him, by him, all those years ago.
Yet the fact that Sasuke had delved head first into Yomi to retrieve him shocked him. Sasuke hated him- he had made sure of it. Itachi couldn't fathom how so much hatred and anger could be accepted and let go of so easily; he couldn't comprehend what had persuaded Sasuke to risk his own life in order to save his wretched soul. The only factors that linked them were Naruto and Reina. Itachi knew the young blue eyed jinchuuriki did not know the truth about the massacre; he could only presume should he ever find out Naruto would support Sasuke in any way he would, like he has tried to for all these years.
That only left Reina.
Out of the two options Reina was the one who knew the truth, who had heard the facts from the people who were there and lived, and died, during the whole ordeal: his parents. Given that he and Reina were already linked through the indenture, his parents had sealed their fate by telling Reina the truth that lay behind his convoluted lies. If there was anyone who would attempt to right a wrong doing it would be Reina, it was innate for her; with a heart that matched her eyes Itachi could only presume she had somehow managed to persuade Sasuke to relinquish his former sentiments.
Consequently it was that gold heart of hers that rendered her missing in Yomi, at a time when she was at her most vulnerable. It was not that she was powerless as Itachi knew she possessed a strength that she herself was unaware of. She did not lack conviction as in battle she was fearsome and had faith in her abilities; it was the extent of her abilities that she did not have faith in. It was her lack of self-worth and willingness to sacrifice herself that left her vulnerable; she would be willing to exchange her welfare for that of others and that was what frightened him.
However things were different this time round, Reina couldn't throw her own life away without throwing the life of her unborn child, their unborn child. He simply hoped they were safe and stayed out of harm's way, even if he didn't.
Sasuke watched his brother's expressions carefully, although minute, they were there; it wasn't often he saw Itachi smile, any recollection he had of him smiling were overshadowed by the dark expression that he donned that fateful night. Sasuke knew he should have known better, he should have known that Itachi would do anything for him; he should have known that everything he had done was for him. He should have known that Itachi was tired of all the fighting and the bloodshed that followed him.
That was the true reason he was foolish.
A sense of déjà vu overcame Itachi: the smell, the lack of warmth and spine-tingling eeriness; everything was familiar to him. Eyeing the hallway questionably Itachi recognised the numerous pillars that littered the hallway almost instantly.
"Oujou Palace."
"You are correct. Although this is not the first time you have been here. Your brother on the other hand, this is his maiden visit."
The voice cut through the silence like a knife through butter. Though startling the voice was not sharp, in fact it was the opposite; the voice was fluid and silk like, if one were to close their eyes they could imagine the voice to resemble an obi belt, the fabric shifting and dancing as their tone heightened or dipped. It was entrancing to say the least. Itachi searched for the owner of the voice, his eyes finally resting on a sudare screen at the end of the atrium. From behind the comforts of the woven screen the person waved their hand in an order like motion; the gesture was elegant and swift despite silhouetted by the gilded partition.
Seeing the gesture the Shikome shoved the pair forward, herding them towards the screen until they stood no more than twenty feet away. Sasuke snarled viciously as the Shikome forced him to his knees, Itachi however did not retaliate he simply kneeled and remained silent. Without a sound the bindings around their wrists suddenly disappeared, freeing their arms from behind their backs. The bindings the Shikome had enforced upon them consisted of dark qi; Itachi could feel the dark matter call out to his body, his regular qi flaring up defensively in retaliation.
"Speaking of maiden, where is the Ikiryō?" The voice questioned; this time their tone held a discreet severity to it. It was obvious the person was expecting additional 'guests'; it meant that as soon as Sasuke and Reina had entered Yomi there was a warrant for their apprehension. The Shikome stiffened; they resembled solid lumps of rock they stood so rigidly. Despite their lack of eyes, their sockets widened, the dark spaces becoming more cavernous; their jaws slackened as they wracked their threadbare heads for a viable response.
Sasuke knew the person was referring to Reina, he knew that Ikiryō was a spirit, one that was not quite dead but not quite alive; however Itachi didn't know this. Itachi did not know that in sacrificing his own life he unknowingly and involuntarily, sacrificed Reina's life too. But Sasuke had a feeling that Itachi would find out soon enough.
"F-forgive us Izanami-sama, the Ikiryō disappeared and we do not know her whereabouts. However we did manage to obtain the kusanagi sword from the human." The Shikome attempted to rectify the situation, they shuffling over towards the sudare screen with their heads bowed lowly in submission and the legendary sword raised high in offering.
Sasuke and Itachi stared at the screen silently, their hearts drumming away in anticipation; the voice from beyond the screen belonged to none other than the goddess of death herself: Izanami no Mikoto. Without any prompt from the Shikome the sudare blind began to shift and slither upwards from the floor; the silk bindings that ran along the blind vertically began to gather and bundle up as the woven partition raised further from the ground.
"My, my how intriguing: a missing ikiryō, a shiryō who longs for a second chance and a human who possesses the kusanagi sword. All of which are bound by an indenture. What an interesting millennia this is turning out to be." Izanami chortled in amusement her tone surprisingly spritely for the goddess of death; the pair expected her tone to be bitter and full of rage given that the Shikome were quivering where they knelt. Itachi was unsure what unnerved him more, the girlish tone of the deity or the fact she knew exactly who they were.
"Izanami-sama forgive my impertinence~" Itachi began calmly, bowing lowly to the floor as not to anger the deity; he could see the condensation of his breath appear then fade away on the glossy floor. Sasuke did not bow, he remained rigid, his jaw taut as he kept his eyes locked onto the carpeted steps in front of him; his fists were ghostly white from squeezing them so tightly. He knew what Itachi was about to ask; he had good reason for not shedding light upon the matter.
Itachi had already been burdened with so much guilt, having the encumbrances of the clan and an entire city thrust upon him was bad enough; but knowing he was the reason the woman he loved straddled the fine line between life and death. Sasuke thought it the lesser of two evils if Itachi remained in the dark. Their roles as brothers had changed, Sasuke had assumed the role of the elder, lying in order to keep his sibling safe; he finally understood that sometimes a small lie was better than a broken heart.
"You wish to know what an ikiryō is, yes? And just how exactly it involves that pretty, young lover of yours. Am I right?"
"Hai Izanami-sama."
Izanami did not answer immediately. Instead she stared at the elder Uchiha from behind the remaining sudare; out of his peripheral Sasuke could see the layers of Izanami's kimono. Given the hall was dimly lit it did not hinder the brilliance of the kimono silk; like a star in the night sky the kimono gave off a soft aura, it was a discreet glow not blinding like one would expect. Hearing the final shuffle of the sudare come to an end the pair unknowingly held their breath; the slithering noise of the blinds was soon replaced with the discreet almost hissing sound of silk gliding over the carpet.
Like Itachi, the Shikome remained bowed, they quivering ever so slightly upon hearing their mistress approach. Izanami halted before the hags. Her hand bloomed from the folds of her sleeves, her skin resembling alabaster marble; however unlike the snowy stone that her skin resembled no veins could be seen beneath her pale flesh. Outstretching her fingers Izanami reached for the scabbard somewhat tenderly only to come to a standstill and recoil her fingers and hands back into her sleeves.
"Leave us." Izanami ordered bluntly. A quiet cry of fear escaped the Shikome's wrinkled lips; silently they began to shuffle backwards towards the way they entered only to freeze once more. "Leave the sword." Izanami sighed quietly in exasperation watching the fumbling pair of hags quiver forward and reoffer the sword; Izanami grasped the scabbarded blade watching the wild women retreat before turning her gaze to younger Uchiha.
Itachi, his forehead still resting against the ground felt the lower layers of the deity's kimono brush across his fingertip as she swanned past him and towards Sasuke. Sasuke stared ahead blankly, yet inwardly he wasn't sure what to expect. In traditional lore Izanami was plagued with maggots and was left unspeakably disfigured after eating the food of Yomi; it was the reason her husband, and brother, Izanagi fled and sort safety from the confines of the underworld. For all he knew he was about to come face to face with a rotting corpse.
"I have no use for a human chokutō." Izanami entered Sasuke view wholly; he attempted not to express his shock as he drank in her appearance. Before him was no rotting corpse instead a young woman no older than twenty-five stood in front of him, his confiscated blade occupying her outspread palms. Like her hands the skin of her face was milky white. She was ethereal to say the least, every defining detail of her person oozed an elegance and quiet sex appeal. Izanami stared at the struck young man before her, a shadow of a smirk dancing on her painted lips; they were like newly bloomed plum blossoms in spring as they puckered in amusement.
Sasuke bowed his head respectfully, opening his palms to accept the blade. Izanami's smile twisted wider as she placed the back of her hands onto his, allowing the sword to glide over her fingers until it rested securely in his palms. She lingered for a few moments prior to retreating; her skin was ice cold, Sasuke had to resist the urge to shudder at the juxtaposing temperatures.
"How rude of me; allow me to formally introduce myself. Izanami no Mikoto, at your service."