Ok so, I felt as though last chapter I had written myself into a bit of a corner, I was not sure where the story was going, and quite frankly there are a few directions that I am thinking of taking this now that I am actually adding more than just the 'one shot' of the first chapter.
I know the quality of my writing is not as good as it used to be, I had to take a step back from writing and reading entirely because of work; and even I can see that the quality of my work has slipped due to inactivity over the past few years. I have also always struggled with making dialogue realistic to the characters. As I am getting back into writing please keep up the commenting it keeps me on my toes and encourages me to be better, so I really appreciate those who told me to spend some more time on this project as this is the first story that I am coming back to after almost 2 and a half years of not writing.
With all of that said. Yes, Itachi is manipulative. I warned from the start that this was not necessarily going to be the healthiest of relationships. But after Chapter 2 I felt that there was something desperately missing between chapter 1 and 2, so this is a flashback of sorts to get a little background for what has happened.
It had started as nothing more than a mission. A simple observation task with Kisame to gather intelligence on Konoha's movements. Itachi had no reason to think it would lead him to anyone much less to her.
The first time he had really seen Sakura was during a mission in the outskirts of the Land of Fire. She had been leading a small team of medics, her voice steady as she coordinated the evacuation of injured shinobi from a skirmish. It wasn't her strength or skill that caught his attention then, but the way she spoke to the injured—calm, kind, yet firm, as though she carried the weight of their lives on her own shoulders.
It should have ended there. A passing observation, nothing more. But something about her lingered in his mind long after they returned to the hideout.
The next time he saw her, he and Kisame were sent to gather information near Suna. Disguised under a transformation jutsu, he had posed as a merchant to slip unnoticed through the streets. It was sheer coincidence that she was there too, assisting the Sand's medical corps after a particularly brutal storm had left dozens injured.
He had watched her from the shadows, her pink hair unmistakable even beneath the harsh desert sun. She moved with purpose, her hands steady as she stitched wounds and set broken bones. He should have left—should have focused on his mission—but he stayed longer than necessary, eyes drawn to her.
Itachi told himself it was nothing more than curiosity. But he didn't know that this curiosity was going to turn his life upside down.
Over time, the coincidences began to pile up, or perhaps they weren't coincidences at all. He started altering his routes, twisting his missions ever so slightly so they intersected with hers. Always in disguise, always careful to keep his distance. He was already adept at hiding in plain sight, slipping into crowds or blending with the terrain to watch her unnoticed.
In Ame, he had posed as a wandering scholar, sitting in a dingy tea house as she passed by with her team. In Kiri, he became a fisherman, his boat anchored just far enough from the docks where she stood treating a group of refugees.
Each time he saw her, the pull grew stronger, and his resolve to stay away crumbled piece by piece.
It was during one such encounter, in a quiet village near the border, that she spoke to him directly for the first time. Disguised as a weary traveler, he had been sitting on a bench outside an inn, watching her from beneath the brim of a wide hat.
"You look tired," she had said, her voice soft but concerned.
He had blinked, caught off guard, and realized she was speaking to him. He nodded, murmuring a quiet hn, unsure how to respond without revealing too much.
"Make sure you get some rest," she added with a small weary smile before walking away.
That smile had haunted him for days.
It wasn't long before he started seeking out reasons to interact with her, each encounter feeding the growing obsession he couldn't shake and refused to acknowledge. He would strike up brief conversations under his various disguises, always careful not to linger too long or say anything that might give him away.
But no matter how much he tried to maintain the facade, his feelings betrayed him. He began to notice things he hadn't before—the way her green eyes lit up when she laughed, the determined set of her jaw when she was focused, the quiet strength that radiated from her even in the most chaotic moments.
She was everything he had thought himself incapable of desiring.
The final breaking point came during a mission to intercept an informant near the border of the land of Sand. He had already taken care of his target when he saw her again. All this time, at some level or another, he had been keeping his distance, but the urge to go forward to her to spend time with her to have her know him, but there was no way that she would ever accept the Uchiha that had murdered his entire clan. Yet the urge to go to her remained, just one more time, he thought to himself, just one more time.
It was a blistering day in the Land of Sand, the sun beating down mercilessly on the golden dunes. Sakura wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she tightened the bandages on the young boy's arm. The Sand Village had suffered another intense storm, and her team had been sent to assist with the injured and displaced.
The village was small, its main square filled with makeshift tents and crowds of people seeking aid. And there was still a lot of chaos after the storm, people were on edge and Sakura went right into organizing the efforts to rebuild, lead the medics in healing the wounded, and organizing all the relief sent from the village. It was here that Sakura first met 'Ren.'
Ren was a wanderer, or so he claimed. A man in his late twenties with dark brown hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck and warm brown eyes that seemed to notice everything. His clothes were simple, dusty from travel, and his voice carried a calm, steady cadence that immediately set people at ease. He had appeared shortly after Sakura's team arrived, offering to help carry supplies and distribute water to the villagers.
Sakura had been too busy treating the injured to give him much thought at first, but his quiet efficiency and the way he seamlessly integrated himself into their efforts caught her attention.
"You're surprisingly skilled at organizing relief efforts," she remarked one evening as they worked side by side to sort medical supplies.
Ren gave a half smile, his expression modest. "I've traveled through places like this before. You learn to adapt."
Something about his demeanor was familiar, though Sakura couldn't place it. His movements were precise, deliberate, almost too graceful for someone who claimed to be a mere wanderer. But he was kind, and the villagers seemed to trust him, so she didn't press further.
Over the days that followed, Ren became a fixture of their work. He was always there—lifting heavy crates, fetching water, or sitting with the children to keep them entertained while their parents received treatment. Sakura enjoyed watching him entertain the young children, after such a disaster it was hard to keep the kids in good spirits, but Ren had a way with them that would put a small smile on Sakura's face.
Sakura found herself drawn to him in spite of herself. He was easy to talk to, his dry wit and occasional teasing bringing moments of levity to her otherwise grueling days. But mostly he listened to her, really listened, and was interested in what she was saying. They talked about everything under the sun in the evenings when she had a moment to breathe.
"You work too hard," he said one evening as they sat on the edge of the village, watching the sun set over the dunes.
She snorted, tossing a pebble into the sand. "Says the man who hasn't stopped helping since he got here."
Ren chuckled, his gaze lingering on her. "I mean it. You take care of everyone else, but who takes care of you?"
The question caught her off guard, and she glanced away, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "I'm fine. I've been doing this for years."
"That doesn't mean you're fine," he said softly.
There was something in his voice that made her chest tighten, a depth of understanding she didn't expect.
The next morning, Sakura awoke to find fresh tea and a small bowl of fruit waiting for her outside her tent. Ren was nowhere in sight, but she knew it was his doing. It became a routine of sorts—quiet gestures of care that spoke louder than words.
What Sakura didn't know was that 'Ren' was an elaborate persona crafted by Itachi, hidden beneath a transformation technique. The brown eyes, the loose hair, the relaxed posture—it was all a carefully constructed facade.
For Itachi, these moments were bittersweet. Each interaction with Sakura only deepened his interest, but the guilt of deceiving her weighed on him. He told himself it was enough just to be near her, to see her smile and hear her laugh. But the more time he spent as Ren, the more he wanted to shed the mask and be himself.
One evening, as they sat by the fire sharing stories, Sakura turned to him, her green eyes searching his face.
"Ren," she began hesitantly, "you're... different from anyone I've met here. Maybe it is just because you are a civilian, but you don't feel like a stranger."
Itachi's heart tightened at her words, and for a brief moment, he considered telling her the truth. But he pushed the thought aside, his resolve hardening.
"I suppose that's a compliment." he said with a faint smile, deflecting as always.
As the mission in the Land of Sand came to an end, Itachi knew he would have to leave, to disappear from her life again, he had already received a message from Kisame that they needed to move. But as he watched her bid farewell to the villagers, her heart and compassion shining through, he realized he couldn't stay away for long.
The mask of Ren had given him a taste of what it could be like to be part of her world, even if only from the edges.
The Village of Springs was known for its natural hot springs and serene atmosphere, a stark contrast to the harshness of the desert. Sakura had been sent to oversee a medical relief effort after a series of tremors had caused minor injuries and disrupted the local water supply. They needed the best as their small hospital had been damaged in the tremors, and they had the money so Sakura was sent as a team leader to a group of ninja and medics sent to the area.
As she arrived with her team, she was greeted by a bustling square filled with injured villagers, collapsed structures, and the lingering scent of sulfur from the springs. It was here that she encountered 'Ren' again.
He was standing near the village's main water source, his sleeves rolled up as he worked alongside the villagers to repair a broken aqueduct. His brown hair, tied back loosely as before, glistened with sweat under the midday sun.
Sakura froze, her green eyes narrowing as she approached him. "Ren?"
He turned, his brown eyes widening in mock surprise. "Sakura. Fancy meeting you here."
Her suspicion melted into a smile, though a flicker of doubt remained in her mind. "What are you doing here?"
Ren wiped his hands on a cloth, his expression casual. "I've been traveling. Heard about the tremors and figured I'd lend a hand. Seems like fate keeps throwing us together."
Sakura raised an eyebrow but said nothing, one of her teammates came up to her to give her a status report on the most gravely injured and the conditions of the Hospital, so she became too busy organizing her team to press him further.
Over the next few days, Ren once again became a constant presence. He helped carry supplies, soothed frightened villagers, and even assisted in clearing rubble from the more damaged areas of the village.
Sakura found herself gravitating toward him in quiet moments. There was something about his calm demeanor that put her at ease, even when the chaos of their work threatened to overwhelm her. He would bring her food when she forgot to eat, he would check in on her when she had been working or healing for hours at a time, just to see if he could be of use to her.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Sakura sat by a small spring, soaking her sore feet. Ren appeared moments later, carrying a steaming cup of tea.
"You looked like you could use this," he said, handing it to her.
She took it with a grateful smile, her fingers brushing his briefly. "Thanks. You're pretty good at showing up when I need something."
"It's a talent," he said with a soft chuckle, settling on the rock beside her.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the gentle bubbling of the spring filling the air.
Finally, Sakura broke the quiet. "Ren, I feel like... there's more to you than you let on."
His posture stiffened for the briefest moment, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "What makes you say that?"
"You always seem to know exactly what to do. How to help. It's like you've been doing this for years," she said, her eyes searching his face. "But you're just a wanderer, right?"
He hesitated, torn between the desire to tell her the truth and the need to maintain his disguise. "I've seen a lot in my travels. Maybe that's why I seem... prepared. It's not like I never run into trouble; there are always situations that wanderers find themselves in unexpectedly."
Sakura tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press further. "Well, whatever the case, I'm glad you're here. It's nice to have someone I can count on."
Her words struck a chord in him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of her trust. But the guilt gnawed at him. She didn't know who he really was, didn't know that the man she was coming to rely on was an illusion.
When the mission ended and Sakura's team prepared to leave, Ren once again vanished without a word. Sakura felt a little sad that she did not get to say goodbye to him, but they were on a schedule and their mission was complete. This mission had been chaotic to say the least, she had been pulled in many different directions, trying to do everything all at the same time, and though she could handle the work it was nice to have someone like Ren looking out for her. She thought back to the meals he would bring to her, the tea, his calm eyes, and no, he was just a wandering civilian, one she might not even see again, she needed to keep her head on straight.
For Itachi, watching her walk away was a test of his resolve. Each encounter made it harder to stay in the shadows, harder to deny the feelings that were taking root deep within him.
He promised himself it would be the last time.
But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie.
Itachi was used to the nightmares that usually plagued him, but recently they were occasionally and more frequently replaced by something different…
The fire crackled softly, casting warm, flickering shadows against the wooden walls of the small home. The scent of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air as Sakura hummed quietly in the kitchen, her back turned to him as she prepared dinner. It was a simple, quiet moment, but it felt like everything he had ever wanted.
"Itachi," she called, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that made his chest ache. "Can you set the table?"
He rose without hesitation, moving to the cabinet to retrieve the plates and cups. The familiar rhythm of domesticity was soothing, each movement imbued with a sense of belonging he hadn't realized he yearned for.
Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson. The sound of a child's laughter echoed faintly from the garden, and Itachi turned to see a small figure chasing fireflies, their dark hair catching the last light of the day.
"It's time to come inside," Sakura called gently, stepping out onto the porch.
The child hesitated, a firefly cupped in tiny hands, before nodding and running toward her. Sakura scooped them up with ease, her laughter ringing out like music.
"Itachi," she said softly, looking at him as she carried his child inside, "this is what you deserve. What we deserve."
The dream always ended there, with a deep sense of warmth and longing that lingered even after he woke.
Itachi lay still in the darkness of his hideout, staring at the ceiling as the remnants of the dream clung to him like a veil. He had been having the same vision for weeks now, each time more vivid than the last. It wasn't like the nightmares that used to haunt him—images of his family, his clan, and the blood that stained his hands. No, this was different.
This was peace.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to return to that fleeting moment of happiness, but it was no use. The weight of reality was too heavy, the truth of his life too stark.
Still, the dreams planted a seed within him, a fragile hope that refused to leave the peripherals of his thoughts. They stirred a yearning that he had long buried, a desire for something more than duty and sacrifice, so much sacrifice.
When had it begun? Was it the moment he first saw her in the Land of Sand, her green eyes blazing with determination? Or had it been during one of their brief encounters, when her compassion and strength had drawn him in like a moth to flame?
Whatever the case, Itachi couldn't deny it anymore. He wanted her. He wanted the life in those dreams—the house, the quiet evenings, the laughter of a child, and her.
But could he have it?
The question gnawed at him, the answer always just out of reach. For a man like him, whose hands were stained with the blood of his family and whose name was whispered in fear, was there any path to redemption?
And what of Sakura's allegiances to the Leaf Village? There was no going back there for him, but for her to leave her home and her people for him? How could he even begin to convince her? Ren might be able to live with her, but never Itahci.
And yet, when he closed his eyes, the image of Sakura and the child would return, softening the edges of his doubts.
The dreams became a driving force, a quiet rebellion against the life he had resigned himself to. The more they persisted, the more determined Itachi became to make them a reality. It wasn't just a fantasy anymore—it was a promise.
To her. To himself.
And to the family he wanted to create.
The village was lively, a tapestry of sounds and colors as vendors shouted their wares and travelers from all over milled about. Sakura had just finished her supply run, her satchel heavy with herbs and medical tools. She weaved through the crowded market square, her senses heightened by the noise and the chatter.
She paused at a fabric stall, idly running her fingers over a bolt of silk that reminded her of home. The scent of fresh dumplings wafted through the air, and her stomach growled despite herself.
"Good taste," a familiar voice said from behind her.
Sakura turned sharply to see him—Ren. He stood casually, dressed in travel-worn clothes that looked more fitting for a merchant or a wanderer. His dark hair fell slightly over his warm brown eyes, and he wore that same faint, almost elusive smile that had both calmed and intrigued her during their previous encounters.
"You again?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Miss me?" Ren quipped, leaning slightly on the edge of the stall.
Sakura rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "What are you doing here?"
Ren shrugged nonchalantly. "Passing through. You?"
"Work," she replied, gesturing to her satchel, "This village has some rare medicinal plants that don't grow but in a few places, I'm just picking up some samples, see if I can get them to grow in the Leaf village."
"Ah, the ever-dedicated healer," Ren said, his tone light. "You deserve a break."
Sakura snorted. "And what would you suggest?"
Ren's grin widened as he held out his hand. "Come on. Let me show you something."
Sakura hesitated, glancing at his hand and then back at his face. There was something disarming about him, even if he was a complete mystery. Against her better judgment, she nodded.
"Fine. But if this is a waste of time—"
"It won't be," Ren interrupted, his eyes glinting.
They wandered through the winding streets, Ren leading her with an easy confidence that suggested he knew the village well. He took her to a quiet alley where an older woman was frying sweet dumplings on a makeshift stove.
"These are the best dumplings you'll ever have," Ren said, tossing a few coins to the vendor and handed her a steaming skewer.
Sakura took a bite, the crispy exterior giving way to a savory filling that melted in her mouth. She hummed in approval, and Ren smirked.
"Told you."
They continued to explore, stopping at small stalls and talking to locals as if they were longtime friends. Ren's charm was quiet yet effortless. Sakura found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, the weight of her responsibilities momentarily forgotten. Though Sakura was doing the majority of the talking, Ren shared a few stories of his own travels, of some of the villages he had been to, some of the dangers, some of the beauty of the lands he had seen.
At one point, Ren led her to the edge of the village, where a narrow trail wound up to a hill overlooking the entire area. The climb was steep, but the view at the top was breathtaking. The village spread out below them, a patchwork of rooftops and streets bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
Sakura leaned against the railing, her breath catching at the sight. "It's beautiful."
Ren stood beside her, his gaze focused not on the view but on her. "It is," he said softly.
Sakura glanced at him, her brow furrowing. "Why do you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Show up out of nowhere, drag me around, make me..." She trailed off, unsure how to finish.
"Make you what?" Ren prompted, his voice gentle.
She hesitated before admitting, "Make me forget everything for a while."
Ren's smile faltered, and for a moment, his carefree facade slipped. "Maybe I just like seeing you smile," he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
Sakura blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. She turned back to the view, her mind racing.
"Who are you, really?" she asked after a long pause.
Ren chuckled, but there was an edge to it. "Just a wanderer."
"Somehow, I don't believe that," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Maybe one day you'll find out," Ren replied cryptically, stepping back from the railing. "But for now, let's just enjoy this, shall we?"
The streets of the small village were quieter now as the evening deepened, lanterns casting a warm glow on the cobblestones. Ren and Sakura walked side by side, their earlier lighthearted banter giving way to an uneasy silence. Sakura couldn't shake the warning bells in her head, the nagging feeling that something about Ren wasn't adding up.
"So, you're really just wander?" she asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
Ren smiled, that easy, charming grin she had come to expect. "That's right. Wherever the wind takes me."
Sakura frowned. "You know an awful lot about ninja techniques for someone who just drifts around. That story you told earlier about evading bandits on the road—some of those moves you described sounded like ninja techniques."
Ren hesitated for the briefest moment, but it was enough to make Sakura's suspicion flare.
"I've seen enough shinobi in action to pick up a few tricks," he replied smoothly, though his tone was a touch too measured.
Sakura stopped walking, crossing her arms. "Ren... who are you, really?"
His smile wavered, and she saw something flicker in his eyes—an emotion too quick to identify. "Sakura, why are you asking me this?"
"Because none of this makes sense!" she exclaimed, taking a step closer to him. "You just happen to show up wherever I go? You know things about me that I've never told you. And now, this story about just 'picking up' ninja techniques? Tell me the truth."
Ren opened his mouth as if to respond but quickly shut it again. His shoulders tensed, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
"You wouldn't believe me even if I did," he said finally, his voice quieter but edged with tension.
"Try me," she shot back, her green eyes narrowing. "Because right now, I'm starting to think you're hiding something—something big."
Ren's gaze darted around the street as if searching for an escape. Sakura caught the movement and frowned. "What are you looking for?"
Before she could press him further, his entire demeanor changed. His head tilted slightly, his body stiffening as though he had sensed something.
"Ren?" she asked, her voice uncertain now.
He didn't answer. Instead, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into a shadowed alley.
"What are you—" she began, but he cut her off with a sharp look.
"Be quiet," he whispered, his voice urgent.
Pressed against the wall, Sakura could feel the tension radiating from him. His eyes were fixed on something beyond her, and when she followed his gaze, she caught a glimpse of a tall, black cloaked figure, with a very dangerous sword strolling casually down the street.
Her breath hitched. She had heard enough descriptions to recognize the sword of Kisame Hoshigaki.
Ren's grip on her wrist tightened, and before she could react, he pulled her closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist.
"Hold on," he murmured.
Before she could protest, the world blurred around her, and the next thing she knew, they were on a balcony overlooking the street.
"What the hell—" she began, but Ren silenced her in the most unexpected way.
His lips were on hers, firm yet desperate, stealing the breath from her lungs. For a moment, her mind went blank, overwhelmed by the sensation. But as quickly as the shock subsided, anger and betrayal surged to the forefront.
She shoved him back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing. "What the hell was that?!"
Ren didn't respond. He was watching her intently, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn't quite place—regret? Longing?
"You're a shinobi," she accused, her voice trembling with anger. "You've been lying to me this whole time!"
"I didn't want you to know," he admitted softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "Why go through all of this? What are you after?"
For a moment, it looked as though he might tell her. His mouth opened, but then his gaze shifted, and he froze.
Kisame was still below, his sharp eyes scanning the area.
Ren—no, Itachi—cursed under his breath. Turning back to Sakura, he stepped backwards into the shadows, the mask of Ren slipping entirely from his face, he had to go but he wanted to see her face one more time, he didn't know when he would see it again.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Ren, wait!" she called, but he was already gone, disappearing into the night as easily as a shadow.
Sakura stood there, her chest heaving, her mind racing. Her heart ached with confusion and betrayal, but beneath it all was something else—something terrifying.
Was it possible that, despite everything, she had started to care for him? Why was that pain in her chest so familiar, like when they lost Sasuke to Orochimaru. Like she was losing someone important, she felt naive, and tired, and tired of being tired. And her report just got a lot longer.
Itachi moved swiftly through the night, his heart pounding. He hadn't meant to kiss her, hadn't meant to let things unravel like this. But seeing her anger and hurt, he realized something with startling clarity:
The next time he saw her, it would be as himself. No more lies, no more disguises. And she would look at him—not Ren—with all the fire and passion he had seen tonight.
For better or worse, he wanted her. Only her. And he wouldn't let anyone else have her.
The dimly lit Akatsuki hideout was silent except for the faint dripping of water echoing through the cavernous space. Itachi sat cross-legged near a low-burning lantern, his expression calm as he polished his kunai with meticulous care.
Kisame leaned against a nearby wall, his massive sword Samehada propped beside him. He watched Itachi for a while, his shark-like grin widening as an idea came to him.
"You've been distracted lately," Kisame said, his voice breaking the silence.
Itachi didn't look up, his hands continuing their work with steady precision. "Hn."
Kisame chuckled, stepping closer and folding his arms across his chest. "Oh, come on, Itachi. I've known you long enough to spot when something's on your mind."
Itachi's gaze flickered briefly to Kisame before returning to the kunai in his hands. "My focus hasn't wavered."
"Really?" Kisame tilted his head, his grin sharpening. "Because lately, you've been... softer."
Itashi sent a sharp glance towards Kisame, who raised his hands in a mocking defence. "Hey I'm saying this for your sake; you are letting your mind wander, pausing before you respond. That's not like you. I gotta say, I'm curious."
Itachi said nothing, his silence an unspoken invitation for Kisame to continue, though his eyes betrayed nothing.
Kisame smirked, undeterred. "So, is it a woman?" he asked, his tone light but probing. "You've been sneaking off a lot during missions. Maybe you've got someone you're meeting out there?"
Itachi's movements paused for a fraction of a second—so brief it would've gone unnoticed by anyone less perceptive than Kisame.
The shark-like man laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the cavern. "Ah, I see. That's it, isn't it? I knew even someone like you couldn't be completely immune to... well, you know, feelings."
Itachi placed the kunai aside and began folding the cloth he'd used to clean it. "You're imagining things," he said evenly.
"Am I?" Kisame teased, leaning in slightly. "Come on, Itachi. You can tell me. Who is she? Who is this mysterious woman that caught your eye? Or maybe she's someone from your past?"
Itachi's dark eyes met Kisame's for the first time, a cold and unyielding intensity in his gaze. "Focus on your own tasks, Kisame."
The bluntness of the response didn't faze Kisame. If anything, it amused him further. "All right, all right, keep your secrets; we are ninja after all. But if you're going to start sneaking around more, you could at least let me know so I'm not left cleaning up all the messes on my own. And heck I enjoy spending time with the ladies as much as the next guy."
Itachi stood, sliding the kunai into his holster and turning toward the shadows. "The mission comes first."
Kisame watched him walk away, his grin softening into something more contemplative. "You can deny it all you want, Itachi," he muttered to himself. "But even someone like you can't run from the things that make us human." Kisame glanced at his partner from the corner of his eye, his shark-like grin widening as he decided to press the issue again. "Well as human as ninja like us can be… You know, Itachi, I've been thinking about that little brother of yours."
Itachi's hands stilled, but he didn't respond.
Kisame chuckled, leaning back as he continued. "You've always been so laser-focused on him. Keeping an eye on him from the shadows. And yet, here you are... distracted. Thinking about a woman, of all things."
Itachi's gaze shifted slightly, but he remained silent, his face an unreadable mask.
"I wonder," Kisame mused aloud, his voice carrying a sharp edge of mischief, "what would Sasuke think if he found out? His big brother—his hated big brother—out here dreaming of romance while he's busy plotting his revenge. Can you imagine it? The guy who killed his entire clan, trying to play house."
The whetstone stopped mid-stroke as Kisame's words hung in the air like a dagger.
"Enough," Itachi said, his voice low and measured, but there was an unmistakable tension beneath the surface.
Kisame smirked, undeterred by the warning. "Oh, come on, Itachi. You can't tell me that thought hasn't crossed your mind. Sasuke's out there tearing himself apart, obsessed with avenging the clan you destroyed, and you're... what? Daydreaming about a quiet life with some girl out there? Doesn't seem fair, does it?"
Itachi's eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened, they were colder than Kisame had ever seen. "Sasuke's path is his own," he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
"But isn't his path your fault?" Kisame pressed, his grin fading into something more serious. "You set him on it, didn't you? You killed everyone he loved and left him alive to suffer. And now you're here, thinking about leaving it all behind. How does that sit with you?"
The words struck deeper than any blade ever could. Itachi's chest tightened, the weight of Kisame's remarks pressing down on him like a boulder.
He had tried to bury his guilt, to justify his past and current actions as necessary for the greater good. But Kisame's taunt had unearthed the truth he couldn't deny: he had robbed Sasuke of everything he was dreaming of too.
How could he even think of happiness when his brother's life was consumed by the darkness he'd created? How could he dream of peace when Sasuke's heart burned with vengeance?
For the first time in years, Itachi allowed himself to feel the full weight of his actions—not just as a shinobi following orders, but as a brother who had failed.
He turned away from Kisame, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're right."
Kisame blinked, surprised by the admission. "I am?"
"I don't deserve it," Itachi said, his words more to himself than to his partner. "The life I dream of... it isn't meant for someone like me."
Kisame frowned, watching as Itachi's shadow seemed to shrink into himself, the unshakable facade he always wore cracking, though no emotion filtered on his face, his grip on his weapon was telling enough. For all his teasing, he hadn't expected his words to hit this hard.
"You know," Kisame said after a moment, his tone unusually soft, "maybe none of us deserve anything. But that doesn't mean we can't want it."
Itachi didn't respond, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the shadows.
The cavern fell silent once more, but this time the stillness was heavy with unspoken thoughts. Kisame began sharpening Samehada, his earlier amusement had faded.
And Itachi sat in the dark, haunted by the almost broken dream he could never truly let go of—and the knowledge that he might never be worthy of it.
Kisame sensing how cold Itachi was decided that it was about time that they had a bit of a break, it was time to request some reconnaissance or something that would take him outside to one of Kisame's favorite towns. Hell, if Itachi was caught up on some woman, then more beautiful women throwing themselves on him should shake him out of it.
It was a town situated between the border of the Country of Rain and the Country of Fire. It was a small town but it was home to one of the area's finest red light districts. Women and men of all shapes, sizes, and ages sat in windows adorned in various garb. There was something in this town for everyone no matter how perverse or sadistic those tastes might be. Kisame was already looking forward to it.
OK
Are we are back on track!?
So... how did that flashback go? It feels a bit like cheating going back in and out of order with events, I usually prefer a straight timeline with my writing but in this case, I couldn't think of another way to make Itachi a smidge less well... confusing. I know there was a stark difference in Itachi ch 1 and Itachi ch 2 hopefully this helps, but I'm not sure if taking away the mystery helps or hinders the story.
As always your comments are a driving force in spurring me on to keep posting, and I really do try and take in all the feedback I can get!