Adoration

Itachi felt trapped.

He had for a long time now. He tried to hide it, tried to return the blackened feeling to the dusky corners of his mind where it belonged, but it was as useless as pushing the tide back into the ocean. He had thought that time would do away with the sensation of it clawing at his very bones, would scar it just as well as all of the other emotions that could once ruin him, but it was still as raw as the first time. There was no end to this madness. He felt like a rabbit run into the ground, caught between the verge of life and death with his little heart beating out against his will.

He wanted it to end. Sage, he did.

Those he allowed close slowly begun to notice. Ninjas that were at once alike and unalike him in every way. They didn't know the secrets that he held tight to his chest; they couldn't even begin to fathom the weight of them. Yet they acted as if they did. Some even had the audacity to believe that they understood him simply because he was part of their clan.

But no one truly knew him. No one could. How could they if they thought of him as blessed when he was, in fact, the most cursed of them all? A beast cloaked in human skin. One that had always been too quick to try the unknown, too eager to disobey caution, and too much of a slave to hope to disregard the starless side roads that brimmed with heinous possibilities.

Itachi dabbled with the atrocious and made friends with violence for the sake of a village that always, always took more than he was willing to give.

Itachi licked his coarse lips. His breath came out in short, threaded gasps, as he brought a glowing green hand up to his temple to ease the headache he felt forming there. There was no use dwelling over events that had long since passed.

His eyes snapped to the side when the hearth across from his paper-laden desk let out a series of placid pops. Itachi turned just in time to witness a branch breaking in the heart of it. The strip of flame it brought to life casted a long and waning shadow before his feet like a black-inked guide away from this godforsaken room that he had once called home. It felt little more than a prison now. A cage for his thoughts that had steadily become more manic as the years pressed on.

Out of habit, he looked over his shoulder for the glint of candlelight on steel. There were quite a few places for someone to hide. A folding screen in one corner, a tall desk covered with loose pages of his manifesto in another, and a narrow nook between a bookshelf and the wall. He spared each area a cursory glance. In truth, he was prepared for ninjas to rise forth from the flagstones and howl dangerous techniques at his ears. For trained men with daggers to appear out of thin air, so they could nip at his skin with blades too quick to evade. But none of that happened. It was just his paranoia getting the better of him. Again.

That awful feeling had taken root long ago. It poisoned his mind.

He wasn't always like this.

Itachi still recalled the day awareness settled around him like silver shroud in water, elegant and clinging. The day the storm-heavy disapproval he stored within tore down the chains around his mind to consider all of the other wicked possibilities he could take. That day, his thoughts had been so clear—if she was gone, then all he needed to do was bring her back. But the line between life and death was stark. It was thick ink mixed with oil and tar to ensure an even deeper marking. Despite his genius, or perhaps because of it, he knew that he wouldn't be able to see his dream to its fulfillment. Not when his hands grew more decrepit by the day. Mortality was an affliction, and with each second that passed, he felt the strength of it. His hair had greyed long ago. His once steady legs shook with the effort needed to hold his meager weight. Even his teeth were beginning to give out on him.

You're unfamiliar with futility, Itachi recalled in his beloved's voice. He despised how even in his mind it still boomed. I've known the sense of it better than my own name for the last three decades. Sometimes things just don't work out the way you want them to, Itachi. In this case, that might be for the best. This sickness... there's no helping it. Promise me you'll carry on for our son.

All I want is for you to be happy.

But Itachi didn't want peace. There was none to be found in this wretched world where the little he could call his own was constantly taken away.

"I'm sorry, Hinata," Itachi whispered. His hands trembled with vigor that had ripened long ago. Too long. "I just want to see you again. Allow me that one wish."

He wouldn't give up. If he had to take the darkest path to realize his dream, then he would. Without a second thought.

It was in that moment between staring at the nothingness before him and pondering what he could do that all of the pieces fell into place, hammering home realization like nails in a coffin. The path he needed to take suddenly seemed so clear now. Crisp and right. As natural as a hidden path of leaves just waiting to be discovered. His entire body shook with a rush of adrenaline so abrupt that he had to move. Itachi shot out of his seat and looked wildly around the room. His mind ran with thoughts of what he needed to do.

Destroy the memos, double-check the locks in my private treasury, tuck away the first forty-eight pages—

He gathered the scant few documents he deemed important and stuffed them inside of a metal chest. The rest, he threw into the fireplace. He didn't care that he was burning thousands of pages of meticulously handwritten research. Itachi had no use for them now, and he'd rather his descendants put all of their effort into exploring what mattered most to him, rather than these half-baked ideas that, when it came down to it, were nothing but distractions.

Itachi threw open a wooden trunk filled with his belongings. He grabbed his favored blade. The weight was familiar to him. The feel of it in his hands provided impossible safety in a work chockfull of threat. Next, Itachi took the handful of small crystals stacked haphazardly in a corner of the trunk. They were packed with dark tendrils. He rummaged around to find another, bigger one turned into a pendant—an accident that he'd created, but what he deemed his life's work regardless. He tucked that into a pocket hidden deep inside of his robes. It was the only thing he'd be using immediately. The rest of his possessions, he left for other men to pick apart and hoard amongst themselves. He wouldn't need them anyway. Not where he was going.

On his table, beside a half-empty bottle of his favored wine and a hopelessly stained glass, he left a note for his son. There was immeasurable warmth in his scant farewell, but more importantly, scribbled all the way at the bottom was a goal and the instructions needed to achieve it.

He walked out the door without another look back.

Itachi breathed in the frigid air around him.

The packed snow under his feet was as familiar as it was unwelcome. He already had difficulty moving, and the cold only added to the burden. But, he supposed, there were worse things. At least here he wouldn't be disturbed by any overly zealous ninjas or snippy advisors. The body of water before him was a frozen wasteland; the area behind, an endless expanse of white so pale that it hurt. Ancient elemental chakra ran strong and vital here. It thickened the air like a taint, at once suffocating and satisfying him with every breath.

He exhaled a cloud of white smoke as he looked up at the whorled clouds overhead. They seemed to twist tighter and tighter into themselves. A storm was brewing. Not that he'd be here to witness it. Itachi placed the beating, bloody pendant he'd ever only used once before on the thick sheet of ice before him. He didn't activate it yet. That could wait a few more instances. Instead, he stepped back and spread his arms out wide. Itachi closed his eyes. He stood there, basking in the glory of the moment, of the fresh and cool wind that pinched the tips of his ears. It filled his lungs. Rejuvenated his insides in a way that had him feeling like a young man again.

It would be a long time before he got to breathe in this air again. He wanted to savor every second of it.

His lifetime was too short for him to see his dreams fulfilled, so he'd let his child and his child's children do so in his stead. And once they were ready, they'd call upon him. They'd wake him from his long sleep, and he would rise again in answer. Itachi would break free from the cage that he already knew halted time and step onto the lands of the Village Hidden in the Leaves once again. He would call upon those beings which gave this world its potency, those from where the very essence of life stemmed—and then trap whichever one was foolish enough to listen. So, he in turn could be set free from the burdens of mortality to erase the line between the living and the dead. He wanted to bring back the only woman he'd ever loved. The same woman he'd stood behind in silent support for so many years. Asking nothing, taking nothing.

For that reason alone, he would summon an old god.

Itachi never asked for much in life. He had few things he could call his own. Despite that, this bloody profession of his demanded that he offer everything. Some things, however, were too precious to give… and yet, they were taken all the same. Plucked from his hands like his short-lived boyhood innocence.

Itachi planned to let loose the power that would be sleeping beneath his skin for the coming ages, and then force those fickle beings in the world above—those that commanded life and death—into turning around and giving him their undivided attention. If Nagato could bring back people long past the brink, then so could he. No, he had the potential to do it even better. Itachi would emerge with a jutsu far more powerful.

His hands glowed purple as he invoked his power.

Itachi crouched to press each digit onto the pendant. It reacted to everything he released. The awareness that he'd roused the ball of compact chakra that he'd trapped within discomfited him in more ways than one. Even still, he didn't let that stop him. There was too much at stake for fear.

Eventually, it reached a point where he was no longer unleashing his power. The pendant actively took. It slurpedmore than he was willing to give, utterly unconcerned for his well-being. Each second that passed bled the lifeblood from his veins. He'd be nothing more than a hollow husk if he allowed this to continue… but he couldn't pull away. Sight and noise were made dim by an unknown veil abruptly cast upon him. The shape of a world he sought appeared, brilliant and gleaming, before his eyes. The illusion was hazy along the edges. A distorted dream that flickered on and off to leave a cupped hole of emptiness whenever he tried to reach for it.

A sparkling light appeared in front of him. It shined gold with the promise of a future close enough to taste. He craved that future. More than he'd ever craved anything before. His head snapped to the side when a distant voice called out, as deep and immense as a call to the ocean. Moments passed before he realized that it was saying his name.

Itachi reached out.

His hand grasped something solid. Too solid for dreams. The world turned black in all directions. There was a spark, and then shards of ice struck the darkness to form a field of sparkling stars around him. It was breathtaking. The sound of it breaking rang in his ears, even as the dying echo evaporated to blend with the nothingness before him.

He stared when the shards reflected a passing shadow. It was so abrupt that he thought he might've imagined it. But then it happened a second time, then a third. Itachi drew closer to peer into the shattered ice. Unease swelled inside of him with each step he took.

Something cold and malicious shimmered in the back of his mind.

It was then that Itachi felt that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The distinct sensation of someone staring at him bubbled in his gut. It wasn't like the adoring gazes of the young ninjas that looked to him for guidance or the disdainful ones of those that believed him too arrogant for his own good, no, this was pure burning. Eyes that held onto his form in a way that suspended him in the moment.

Itachi's chest stuttered when two horrific slits appeared within every shard. Even though he didn't show it, terror gripped him like a fist. It was tight enough that he couldn't turn away. A mouthful of pointed teeth surfaced next. The creature's upper lip was bared high in scorn. Flashes of its face kept appearing, and Itachi stifled the urge to drop into a battle stance. It wasn't that the glimpses were horrific. Rather, it was the feeling that exploded within him with each one that he saw. He felt as if he was impeding upon the territory of an atrocious being that desired nothing more than to be left alone—and right now, he was profaning that desire. The realization was as shuddering as the swift pale curve of a blade that came unheralded in the dead of night.

The distorted realm he was in lurched beneath his feet at the being's arrival.

What's going on? he thought, unable to find his voice to question the presence himself. Where am I?

An abominable tone broke the quiet around him like glass.

Was it you that disturbed my rest?

The voice sounded far different from what he'd expected. The being that answered him sounded as if it were submerged in the darkest depths of the sea. It was interlaid with a dozen other timbres to create a tone far deeper than any he'd ever heard. This voice wasn't soothing or tantalizing like the breathless whispers he expected from an angelic being, no, this was the strong, maddened speech of a man. A violently angry man.

You seek power.

There was a pause, before…

"I do," Itachi said, rapid enough to make him seem desperate. "The power to bring back someone gone."

Patient, yet eager. I can see it in your memories.

The mundane things you have thought about offering to me in exchange for the power to call back a being from another plane are hardly of interest. I do not want your soul in exchange. I do not wish to be burdened with a companion within this edgeless expanse… and for that, you should consider yourself fortunate.

For this is my dwelling. It is not for you to perceive or contemplate. You shall rise again from the serenity of this abyss. I make that vow to you.

The world around him abruptly drew in on itself. The air looped in wide circles that pulled closer with each spin—and there he was, at the center of it. Every heightened coil of air was pure noise that made his ears bleed. His temples pounded with a vengeance unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It extended outwards. Little webbed cracks of pain that moved across his forehead, before consuming the rest of him. Itachi cupped his face between his glowing hands and tried to make it stop. But this hurt wasn't one so easily appeased.

Despite all he was going through, despite barely having the capacity to consider anything past the pain, that voice still rang loud and clear. It bounced along the walls of his mind. Cold fury from a being that couldn't be bothered with dealing with the likes of him.

Ages have passed since I last met a man vigorous enough to pierce the water, to reach inside of this infinite night and draw me out. Stillness is paramount here, but you have managed to create ripples in the dark. An extraordinary feat, though by no means exclusive. Be proud, however, for your desire will be granted because of it.

Amidst the agony, the barest sliver of joy swelled in Itachi's chest.

… It was taken away in an instant.

But if you are so keen to tear the divisions within this world apart to realize your dreams, then I shall show you exactly what that means by beginning with you. You shall feel exactly what it is like to become a sacrifice offered to a heinous god. Over and over again. Until the day you are beckoned back to the world above.

That is the payment I seek.

The being didn't even wait for him to agree. It simply vanished in a cloud of icy dust and accepted Itachi's screams as an answer. Vicious gusts of enflamed wind burst around him. They pulled at his body, yet against all logic, he remained in place. He could feel their effects though. The way they burned his flesh, turning it soft and pink and too raw for anything more than a feather's touch. It tore him apart at the seams. The wind spun in the empty spaces, rolling needles against the exposed tenderness of his insides.

Itachi wanted little else than to screech profanities at the top of his lungs, to shout at him to stop, but any ability he once had to think past the blurs of hurt had been stripped the moment that wicked voice made his decision for him.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

The space he was in felt as if it had siphoned into itself for the sole purpose of thrashing against him. Itachi knew that the creature decided to bless him for one deluded instant though. Because a vision of endless warmth appeared before his eyes. Fleeting and real. Itachi returned to the world he'd basked in. Everything was just as he'd left it—the frozen water and the storm clouds ready to pour their tears overhead—as if they didn't just witness how the last few moments had shifted his entire life into a different course.

The world was always so silent to the plight of men.

Itachi watched as the water suddenly began to boil. Steam blew out in an arc. It rose high into the air, obscuring everything from the distant sky above to the stark green trees spattered around him like specks of paint on a grey-white canvas. Ice cracked, then broke messily apart. The sharp sounds filled him with dread. Every inch of the water bubbled in a way that reminded him of overheated stew, made and eaten during simpler times when he camped with Shisui during long training sessions. It allowed him a proper look at the water, which was so thick that it appeared black. Although only a few seconds passed, the entirety of the icy ring in front of him had already returned to its natural state.

Itachi couldn't speak. He was unable, or rather unwilling, to explain the sight. Because he knew what would come next if he did. Once he realized for himself that this was no longer the reality he wanted so desperately to be trapped in.

But it happened anyway.

Without warning, the world bent at the edges. His gaze flicked downward as he took out a photo from his pocket. He needed to see her one last time. Hinata smiled back at him, embarrassed about being photographed. She held him with her stark gaze, as if to anchor him there, so she could protect him from what was about to come… but even she wasn't enough to tether him from the being that called.

Her smiling façade was the last thing he saw, before shadows guttered from every corner, then grew larger to swallow everything. It darkened his consciousness, breath-by-breath, until it spread across his vision like a silent, starless sky.

Itachi fell forward.

In that dark place between the black waters and the still surface touched by the ancient sun, Itachi vanished.