@osovereign
ㅤThe water flowing along the stream felt cold as he dipped his hands in it; for a moment, simply watching as the quiet, gentle waves washed away grime and dirt and dried-up sweat. If only it could also cleanse the blood those same hands were soaked in, metaphorically so if not literally anymore; hands of children raised to carry weapons and slash throats. Everything he'd fought so hard to change, only to fail so spectacularly. The brother he'd sworn to protect with his life and gladly so, now left behind abandoned and traumatized and set on a path toward his own doom.
Was this the essence of a will made of fire? Was this the world of mercy it promised?
Hypocrisy.
ㅤHands clutched tight absently, the water still flowing just as freely. A metaphor to add insult to injury and remind him that, indeed, he was powerless; a tiny, powerless human, unable even to save his own family the very reason why now they lie dead and ready to rot. With a sigh, Itachi untied his forehead protector and brought it down, meaning to wash it as well. After days of hurried journey throughout the Land of Fire, meaning to go as far away as possible from his once-home, he might as well dunk his whole self in the stream. ...For more than just one purpose, yet such grim musings would serve him for nothing. Only give Danzo the satisfaction of yet another victory. No, he would live. He would live and, somehow, find a way to correct everything that was wrong for good. One day, he would-
ㅤ...-he'd figure it once he got there. At present, the priority suddenly became the presence he could sense approaching - paranoia immediately kicked back into overdrive as the iris of his remaining eye shifted to deep crimson. Paranoia that soon tumbled into territory of sheer bewilderment, however, the moment he calmed down enough to realize that... he knew this person.
ㅤHis memory never forgot a chakra signature, and this one in particular actually had a layer of fondness added to it. Of halcyon days spent in the company of a certain mystery man, of following him around so carefreely and pestering him with questions about matters no four-year-old should be concerning himself about. Having to spare a moment to wonder if his fever might have gone bad enough to make him hallucinate such a coincidence, Itachi nonetheless watched the older one's figure coming into view - hand still refusing to let go of the kunai it was tightly holding, in a clearly defensive stance.
«...Long time no see.»
















