It is the same intrusive sensation. Raw, wild and claustrophobically debilitating. He cannot recall the changing environment, nor the suspension of time that seems to stretch on for eternity. A part of him, perhaps in the form of chakra, is suspended somewhere in this mass of empty black space. He sees the way it mixes with the sudden appearance of black spores, and how it dissipates into a sphere of nothingness. Then it turns to his conscious, his thoughts and his mind. It takes him across the vast expanse and beckons the release of his very being.
But there is a defiant sensation that refuses to integrate with the rapid change in surroundings.
Izumi.
In that very moment, her very existence is what keeps his mind from falling, and the more he assimilates her presence, the smaller the expanse becomes.
He sees her. A hazy outline that disappears and reappears in three second intervals. If he can only reach her.
But where am I?
He recalls the past few minutes. The small dim cabin. The forest. Their mission. Izumi's black out. Izumi's fear. That feeling of petrification - a silent agonising terror he cannot fathom.
"Please don't hurt me, I still don't know where I am."
Her words confounded him, then triggered a set of memories that had everything to do with their encounter on Cascades Mountain. So he observed her through the Sharingan and saw the familiar abnormality in her chakra.
I attempted to stabilise her chakra, and then I ended up here.
Perhaps an illusionary technique of some sort?
No.
He understands illusion better than anyone he knows, yet this environment blurs the line between genjutsu and reality. Strength alone does not guarantee victory, and the slower he assimilates this, the faster he relents control.
"Itachi."
He hears the tentative edge that taints her voice.
Without thinking, he lurches forward and grips onto the floating chakra that has been surreptitiously flowing from his body. It stagnates, then recoils like a rubber spring.
"Izumi!"
In one forceful movement, he manages to reach for the misty outline that resembles her.
Her warmth is what rouses him, and when his reality extends to normality, he finally processes the physical sensation of her body against him. His hold on her is unusually firm, as if he has been grounding them both to this world.
When she wakes, her haphazard gaze swings between the bemused expression of his pale features and the emptiness of the walls behind.
"Itachi!"
She sits up and takes hold of his shirt.
"Itachi, did you see?"
There is a wild look to her face, as if her mind is still in the midst of escaping from something.
She leans closer.
"Did you see, did you see?"
She mutters shortened sentences he cannot fully comprehend.
"Izumi."
He grips her shoulders in a futile attempt to halt the growing hysteria.
"Itachi, I saw it, I saw it again. Bad things I don't remember. And we can't escape, even if we die, we can't leave...we can't...Honoka and Shisui, where is Honoka and Shisui?"
She straightens and gazes frantically across the room.
"Izumi. Look at me."
He keeps the tone firm, yet urgent.
"Itachi..." her voice is small and weary, "...Itachi...the cave...it did things to me...it keeps showing me things I don't want to see...it follows me everywhere I go...it's going to take me...Itachi..."
There is an immeasurable fear that suffuses her being. Her features may resemble a bout of jaded tears, but it is the paralysing trepidation that he can sense on instinct alone.
Without anticipation, she sways forward and expels a thicken black liquid from her mouth. It drips to the ground in darken piles, then disperses into the air like fragile bubbles. In that very instant, the substance reminds him of something.
The black spores.
"Izumi," he holds her face, "look at me. You're going to be okay, do you understand?"
For a brief moment, he wonders whether she is gazing past him. But he sees the tinged, an immense concentration fuelled by the very little willpower she has left.
"Itachi, you believe me don't you?"
At her words, he brings her closer so their foreheads are touching.
"I believe every word you say. But you also need to believe in me as well. You are going to be okay. I'm not going to let anything take you. Do you hear me?"
She nods tentatively.
"Is it weak of me to say that I'm scared?"
She shuffles in so he can embrace her.
"No. I think that's a strength. To admit that you are afraid," he answers quietly.
She takes his face.
"I'm so...so tired," she whispers, "I don't think I'm going to remember anything at all when I wake up. Just like last time, and every other time before that."
Her voice steadily drops in coherency.
"Itachi, there's something I need to tell you..."
When she leans forward and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth, he is already gauging her sleep-like state. She falls gently against his chest, and between the security of his embrace.
Yet in this very instant, there is a frangible line that separates them from an unknown existence that hovers like an everlasting shadow. He does not know how or when, but if he could shoulder the fear Izumi carries, even if for a transient moment, then that would be more than enough for him.