Itachi dislikes public displays of emotions. For the mere fact it provides too many layers of inconveniences, or opportunities for enemy sabotage. But that does not necessarily allude to more overt displays in private. There are variations between the two settings, however, this may not be apparent to an outsider. It takes a long time expert to discern the nuances of Itachi's very minimal expression. At least, that is what Izumi likes to think.
Today, beneath the searing beams of sun, Izumi sits beside a roughen patch of grass that demarcates the forest and river. She is uncertain of her environment, and the sudden confusion that plagues her mind.
One hundred metres ahead, she takes notice of a man by the riverbank. His dark hair is silhouetted by a mass of trees that shades his surroundings, and when he turns for the thickened forest, she observes the red clouded patterns that stains his black cloak.
Curiosity is not the correct word that describes her proceeding action. She is yet to identify the convoluted emotions, and the compelling need to follow him. But by the steady stream of waters, there is an aura of bewilderment reflected against her features.
Fourteen is the age she remembers herself to be, yet the reflection extorts a different meaning. Her hair is shorter, her figure is taller and her face is older. She has aged, perhaps six to seven years. Also...
She takes hold of her breasts and squeezes.
"They've gotten bigger," she says confoundedly.
Of course they have. I'm not a pubescent teenager anymore.
The thoughts startle her, as if there is another older Izumi speaking pragmatically from the very recess of her mind.
Am I a teenager or am I an adult?
I've lost him.
I've aged. I've really aged.
Where did he go?
I'll be getting wrinkles and I still haven't had my first kiss!
Which way did he go again?
Itachi.
Itachi? Was that Itachi?
She stalks through the forest in a fit of anxiety.
"Itachi!"
The search is redundant. She finds him almost immediately.
There is an explosive battle that interferes with her internal state. She feels the sudden relief at Itachi's presence, and the contradictory nature of disconcertment at his older features.
Fourteen is the age she remembers Itachi, yet the one that stands before her has also aged. There is something peculiar about him, as if the ageing lines that grace his features are a result of something far more sinister.
Still, she cannot fathom the opposing feelings of uncertainty, and the comfort or forceful urge to touch him. Again, she attributes it to two separate Izumi's - old and young - operating as one.
"Izumi."
His tone is vacant with no underlying emotions. She cannot see past his lifeless gaze, as if there is an inertia that is restraining him.
"Why are you here?" he continues.
She stares wildly.
"I'm not sure, I just found myself here."
His returning gaze is inscrutable.
"Who is your master?"
"I-I don't know what you are talking about. Itachi, let's go back to the village, okay?"
She keeps the rising panic suppressed.
"You must have a creator," he says.
At this point, Itachi is looking visibly irritated.
"It's me, Izumi, where are you getting creator from?" she answers tentatively.
He closes the gap between them and stands several feet from her.
"The Izumi I know is dead, so I am highly curious to know who defiled you and made such a convincing replica. For what purpose? Considering you do not have a single ounce of chakra."
His comment evokes a surge of panic. She cannot feel the presence of chakra or a spec of life energy.
"Itachi! I'm not a replica! I don't know how I got here, or where I am. You must be mistaken. I was probably on a mission and went missing and everyone thought I was dead."
She wishes to ignore the sudden twitch that surfaces his features.
"I'm definitely not mistaken, because I killed you myself. And when I kill, I ensure my target is truly dead."
His voice is even, as if he meant every word.
On Izumi's end, there is a tightening knot that constricts with every inhalation of breath. Emotionally, she denies the comment, yet instinct gives her every reason to believe the veracity of his statement. The Itachi before her is a different man she is so used to seeing, and the more she assimilates the truth, the more afraid she is of him.
"So I will ask you one more time," he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, "who is your creator?"
When he opens them, she sees the strangely shaped Sharingan, and its resemblance to Shisui's Mangekyou.
Mangekyou Sharingan? When did he?
"I don't know. I really don't know what you are talking about," she says quietly.
Her surrounding is no longer that picturesque greenery. There is now a blood red moon, and an alternating environment of black and grey. She sits amongst a deserted scenery of dead trees, tightly bound and acutely aware of the impending fear that deluges her thoughts.
Itachi steadily approaches, three of him to be exact, each with two sets of misshapen kunais in hand. And without speaking, one plunges the pointed end into her right arm.
The excruciating pain does not abate in the proceeding seconds after. Instead, it escalates with a burning intensity that perforates every bone and cell. Her screams resound like a blood curdling echo, far beyond the dismal emptiness of this unknown world.
"In this world, I control space and time. And I will keep doing this until you speak information."
Itachi pauses, and when Izumi does not answer, he continues.
"Only seventy-one hours, fifty-nine minutes and fifty seconds to go."
So he persists. On and on, without rhyme or reason to his methods. She forgets time and the feeling of a painless reality. Her cries embed in her thoughts like a grotesque parasite, and the more she screams, the faster her consciousness falls.
"Itachi...Itachi please stop it, it hurts. It hurts so much."
Her faltering voice is a sound she cannot recognise, but the piercing shrieks that interjects her every word is perhaps a fuelling factor to her disintegrating memory.
"Who desecrated you and brought you here?" Itachi says.
She shakes her head.
"I...I don't know...I don't know why I'm here or where I am."
"Seventy-one hours, fifty-eight minutes and fifty-two seconds left," he says.
"Stop it...stop it please...Itachi...please...stop, no more."
He keeps a hold on her gaze, then encourages her watch to follow his. To her left, she sees two other Izumis, each in the same position and surrounded by several Itachis.
"Though you are seeing multiple versions of yourself, you will also feel the pain that they feel, on top of yours."
His tone is unwavering. And when he steps forward and plunges an unusually large blade into her abdomen, she briefly sees the same occurrence with the other Izumis.
Three times the agonising pain and three times the impact. Her screams collide with the dizzying effects of a brightly lit light from somewhere to her right. The expanding illumination stalks inward like a melting shadow.
"Izumi!"
There is that hollow voice, and the screeching sound that resembles hysteria.
"Izumi! Izumi!"
The voice grows louder, until she recognises the sound of her name and her mind awakens to a different reality. The screeching came from her.
"Izumi! Are you alright?"
Itachi is staring, wide-eyed and visibly petrified.
But he is not the same Itachi she saw - this is the real one.
A dream?
No, it felt real. Too real.
She inhales deep.
It was a dream was it not? A terrible dream. It had to be.
She stares wildly at her surroundings. A darkened room surrounded by a mass of forest from the outside windows. She is still half sitting against Itachi, her body splayed and drenched in a layer of thickened sweat.
Intuitively, she is safe, yet her mind cannot disconnect from the very life-like dream.
When Itachi reaches for her, she flinches violently and recoils in fright.
Fear is what keeps her from reacting or speaking words of pragmatism. But she cannot dismiss the the look of perturbation across Itachi's face. It is the first time she has seen an expression of blatant unease from him.
"Izumi, is everything okay?"
Even at the sound of his gentle tone, there is still that strong association she has of the Itachi in her 'dreams.'
"Please don't hurt me," she breathes, "I still don't know where I am."
A/N: Dear Readers, I've come across several questions that I have answered and would like everyone else to see as well!
1. What is Izumi and Itachi's age?
My story follows canon, so they are both ~14 years old. Interestingly (and coincidentally), this recent chapter confirms their age.
2. In Ch 30, is that Orochimaru Itachi and Izumi run into?
Yes, I can definitely confirm that it is him.
3. Do you have an idea how long this story will go for?
We are just over halfway there!