On the Fringes of Life {open}

Rachael · Rachael on Fri Jul 04, 2008 6:35 pm

He himself wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to come back here, of all places.

It was an impulse, you could say. An animalistic urge that compelled him to excuse himself abruptly from his polite partner (which had, in fact, left him feeling a twinge of guilt when he thought about it; but the emotion was soon nullified and squashed beneath a metaphorical sandal before it could entrench itself in his psyche and grow to something more). It was pure instinct that drove him from branch to branch, halfway unbuttoned cloak flittering behind him from the wind of his passage, making a steady beeline towards his 'beloved' village of origin: Konoha.

Perhaps it was an ill-timed bout of nostalgia, or a memory that refused to be left buried in the depths of his complex mind. Whatever the case, Itachi simply could not stay away from the Leaf with such an unrequited, stubborn need that would not dislodge itself from his consciousness no matter how hard he tried.

And so, here he was. Emerging from the treetops and straightening up upon a sturdy branch stood the murderer of the infamous Uchiha clan, crimson Sharingan eyes surveying the bustling village that lay before him. The view was quite breathtaking, really, what with the mid-morning sun shining above the horizon and nicely highlighting Hokage Rock in the far distance, but he payed it no mind. The place was nothing now compared to what it used to be; next to the empire it once was, the ramshackle buildings now looked beaten up and scattered in dismay, as if thrown carelessly from the hand of a god and dubbed 'Konoha' after a few saplings decided to spring up from the barren earth.

Slowly Itachi inhaled a deep breath of crisp winter air that made his throat sting, but he failed to notice. His concentration now was far from the current scene; his thoughts were wandering, in fact, to years before. His mind was meandering into places he dared venture, delving into memories that were best left locked away. But for all the self-control the Uchiha possessed, he just couldn't seem to bring himself to have the desire to stop. All those years of ignoring it and bottling it up were haunting him now, and he found he couldn't hold back the single tear that threatened to spill over at the simple memory of a single image: the pure fear, the unrivaled betrayal, the heartbreaking hurt that had reflected so blatantly on his little brother's face eight years ago.

In retrospect, it might have been a bit more merciful to take his life as well. But then, he supposed, Sasuke would never have gotten the chance to shine. And that was something even he -- no, especially he -- deserved.

And boy, would he get it.