‹ Prequel: Nevermore
Status: Updates every Tuesday.
Kingdom by the Sea
The end of everything.
“I’ve feared the best, loved the worst and have insisted that I go first. I’ve watched your eyes as they poured and I never really loved you more”
***
A weapon that is handled with skill and knowledge can be your best friend. It will protect you from the evil that rises over the valley, it will provide you with life when you find yourself with none, but best of all, it will never stray far from your side…
Her eyes lingered over the soft light that echoed off of the blade, tilting it with her hand and watching as it grew and shrunk back into the sharp metal. Brushing her fingertips along the fabric that sheathed the handle, she plucked a stray string and carelessly dismissed it to the floor. “Thank you, Shisui.” The clouds shifted in the sky, revealing a full moon that hung higher than it usually did and the whole room was doused in cool light. Fluidly, she moved her arms out in front of her body, the blade gleaming as it defended her fully. “You knew him better than I could have ever given you credit for,” she whispered and closed her eyes. All that was left now was to wait. Wait and prepare for the onslaught of heartbreak and betrayal that would come charging through her door at any second.
The birds outside her window cried out and flew as a flock into the darkening sky, their feathers fell silently to the cold earth outside. Her mouth deepened and her eyes snapped open, staring into the etchings of the wood archway waiting for him to come forth. She moved her feet back a few steps, suddenly feeling like she was waiting on the edge of a plummet, straight forth till the earth stole the life straight from her broken ribcage.
“Uchiha Hinamei, you look like a fool.” A steely voice slithered in from the front of the house and crept up her skin like a dead man’s fingertips. Her long eyelashes brushed upwards as she met the figure that stood motionlessly far in front of her. “What are you waiting for?”
“Don’t be so cruel, you’ve come to kill me.” The girl replied quietly, letting the ice touch her words. She refused to show him the fear he was looking for, damned if she would go down feeling like the coward she had lived her life as. “Haven’t you?”
He took a step forward and tilted his head at her, letting a small smirk adorn his pale lips. “Why should I answer that? It looks as if you’ve already expected a battle. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you now…” His slim fingers flexed upwards, bringing his arm upwards in a single fluid movement until his swift hand was wrapped around the handle of his blade that hung from his back. She watched warily as the blade slid upwards, bathed in silver light until it was held in front of him. Mirrored to her defensive stance. “I didn’t expect this of you.” He took another threatening step and she could feel the thin coat of sweat between the handle and her palm. “It’s so unlike you to stand up for yourself.” Itachi spit out his sentence with a trail of disgust, leering as he eyed her from the floor up.
“What a shame,” the girl replied, bristling with anxiety as he stepped down her hall way. “This is exactly what I expected of you.”
The air rung like bells as blades clashed and lovers united in a fit of battle torn betrayal.
This was, indefinitely, the end of everything.
*****
Gentle, slender fingers ran the length of every raven strand of hair. Smoothing out all the small knots that somehow continued to find their way in, day in and day out. His eyes, however, were focused on the blank alabaster colored walls, unwavering and out of focus as his hands kept moving. A slight breeze drifted in from his open window, easing his taut nerves after the long and tedious mission he had just returned from. At this point, all he wanted was to be alone. Alone with his thoughts and meticulous ponderings, as he often did before he slept. A steady knock on his door frame however, broke his attention to the tall man that stood in the archway, unreadable as always. Itachi blinked, turned away and let his hand fall from his loose hair. “Madara,” the younger Uchiha leaned back against his pillows casually as the former stalked into the room.
“I’ve been meaning to talk with you Itachi, it seems I‘ve been made a fool of for quite some time. Unnoticed nonetheless.” Itachi was forced to look into the blaring orange mask, the intensity in which his superior spoke was nearly startling. The bed moaned under the weight as Madara placed himself directly in front of the careful Uchiha.
“And this concerns me?” It was almost habit to activate his sharingan, Madara knew this well and didn’t take the sudden change as a threat. Regardless, Itachi thought, Madara’s sharingan had been displayed from the very start of this conversation. Both men sat opposite on the stiff bed, eyes never straying from the other’s face until Madara spoke once more.
“Tell me about the night of the massacre again, will you?” The younger stiffened at his words, narrowing his eyes at the faceless man in front of him. “Any small details I may have missed, after all, we took opposite sides of the compound did we not?” Itachi lowered his head slightly and pulled his eyebrows together, trying to remember all the suppressed memories from that night. It was something he tended to ignore, after all it took three entire years for the nightmares to stop playing every night. And even then, they came back every once in a while, as vivid as always.
“Yes, I believe that is what we agreed on. But I’m afraid I’m not following where you’re going with all of this.” His voice came out colder than ice, Madara knew better than to talk about the massacre. Regardless of how long ago it all took place, the wound still felt tender to the touch to him. The masked man shifted, crossing his leg and placing his arm on it to rest his head in place. His fingers softly drummed against the thick material of his mask, averting his eyes towards the ceiling. The older tried his hardest to fight away the fury that was slowly starting to seep out of him but to no avail as he clicked his tongue impatiently.
“Let me put it this way, I’ve been hearing some unsettling news. Something I may have possibly overlooked…” Itachi quirked a slender brow and Madara growled lowly. “Have you ever heard of a technique called Yumeriku?”
“No, I haven’t.” Itachi replied dully, unphased by the quiver in Madara's voice.
“That’s because it’s not a very common technique. Besides being a very ancient and slow tool in battle, it’s also very limited to the number of people who can use it.” He flipped his hand upwards knowingly as he carried on. “You see, this technique is considered weak by most. No matter how strong it can be if wielded properly, it’s much too soft to use on battle. Merciful. You wouldn’t want your enemy to die painlessly would you?” Itachi looked away and Madara smirked, “I’ve heard rumors lately, that this particular technique is being used by someone out far west.”
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with anything regarding that night.” Itachi’s fingernails were digging into the soft flesh of his hand, irritated with Madara’s vague and mysterious fashion of speaking. Madara straightened himself and directed his sights straight towards the rigid, cool mannered man in front of him. The scarlet glare of his Mangekyō could be seen through the small eyehole of his mask, challenging Itachi.
“This technique can only be used by someone with a certain bloodline limit. The sharingan to be more exact.” Itachi visually stiffened, letting his eyes stray from Madara‘s face in what appeared to be guilt. Itachi knew better, he couldn‘t hide it for long. A part of him though hoped that it would go unnoticed at least until he saw the void of death. He closed his eyes and reopened them, calming himself down inwardly and displaying that monotone look for Madara to see he wasn’t as surprised as Madara liked to think. “And we’ve been keeping all eyes on Sasuke, that boy’s too vicious to use such a gentle technique anyway. So who is it Itachi?” A noticeable shift in the air occurred, smothering the once breathable conditions in unwanted tension. Itachi was boring holes into the walls by now with his eyes, thinking over in his mind the best way to handle such a fragile situation. A wide grin set onto Madara’s thin lips, his eyes scrutinizing every movement Itachi let out. The gentle twitch near his mouth that showed he was irritated and holding back. The way his eyes focused on anything but that Mangekyō of Madara’s. It was almost enough to make him laugh at the show as it took a lot to break Itachi of his calm and gentle façade. Regardless of how minor the effects seemed on the outside.
“Uchiha Hinamei, she wasn’t worth killing at the time though. She’s not a fighter, merely useless.” Itachi said calmly, releasing the tension in his hands and looking up. Convincing Madara was not something he was going to do, either way Madara would make a decision based on his own wants, if he hadn‘t already made that decision. There was no use lying anymore.
“Then there would have been no inconvenience in killing her then, would there?” Madara pointed a finger at the younger Uchiha and shook it like he was scolding a child. “You like to make trouble for me, don’t you Itachi? You’re just as your name says, a weasel. Sly and sneaking like a rat, how fitting. That’s why I like you though.” Itachi’s obsidian orbs flickered upwards towards Madara, curious to the amusement that touched at the edges of Madara’s words. “And that’s why you’re going to fix this for me, I’m tired of obstacles. I want Kisame and yourself to find her and bring her back to me. I want to kill her personally just to make sure you don’t slip up, again.”
“I understand. What would you like me to tell Kisame then?”
Madara flicked his wrist and stood up, looking down on the young boy with an almost swelling of pride. “You’re intelligent, think of something.” And he left the room without uttering another word.
***
A weapon that is handled with skill and knowledge can be your best friend. It will protect you from the evil that rises over the valley, it will provide you with life when you find yourself with none, but best of all, it will never stray far from your side…
Her eyes lingered over the soft light that echoed off of the blade, tilting it with her hand and watching as it grew and shrunk back into the sharp metal. Brushing her fingertips along the fabric that sheathed the handle, she plucked a stray string and carelessly dismissed it to the floor. “Thank you, Shisui.” The clouds shifted in the sky, revealing a full moon that hung higher than it usually did and the whole room was doused in cool light. Fluidly, she moved her arms out in front of her body, the blade gleaming as it defended her fully. “You knew him better than I could have ever given you credit for,” she whispered and closed her eyes. All that was left now was to wait. Wait and prepare for the onslaught of heartbreak and betrayal that would come charging through her door at any second.
The birds outside her window cried out and flew as a flock into the darkening sky, their feathers fell silently to the cold earth outside. Her mouth deepened and her eyes snapped open, staring into the etchings of the wood archway waiting for him to come forth. She moved her feet back a few steps, suddenly feeling like she was waiting on the edge of a plummet, straight forth till the earth stole the life straight from her broken ribcage.
“Uchiha Hinamei, you look like a fool.” A steely voice slithered in from the front of the house and crept up her skin like a dead man’s fingertips. Her long eyelashes brushed upwards as she met the figure that stood motionlessly far in front of her. “What are you waiting for?”
“Don’t be so cruel, you’ve come to kill me.” The girl replied quietly, letting the ice touch her words. She refused to show him the fear he was looking for, damned if she would go down feeling like the coward she had lived her life as. “Haven’t you?”
He took a step forward and tilted his head at her, letting a small smirk adorn his pale lips. “Why should I answer that? It looks as if you’ve already expected a battle. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you now…” His slim fingers flexed upwards, bringing his arm upwards in a single fluid movement until his swift hand was wrapped around the handle of his blade that hung from his back. She watched warily as the blade slid upwards, bathed in silver light until it was held in front of him. Mirrored to her defensive stance. “I didn’t expect this of you.” He took another threatening step and she could feel the thin coat of sweat between the handle and her palm. “It’s so unlike you to stand up for yourself.” Itachi spit out his sentence with a trail of disgust, leering as he eyed her from the floor up.
“What a shame,” the girl replied, bristling with anxiety as he stepped down her hall way. “This is exactly what I expected of you.”
The air rung like bells as blades clashed and lovers united in a fit of battle torn betrayal.
This was, indefinitely, the end of everything.
*****
Gentle, slender fingers ran the length of every raven strand of hair. Smoothing out all the small knots that somehow continued to find their way in, day in and day out. His eyes, however, were focused on the blank alabaster colored walls, unwavering and out of focus as his hands kept moving. A slight breeze drifted in from his open window, easing his taut nerves after the long and tedious mission he had just returned from. At this point, all he wanted was to be alone. Alone with his thoughts and meticulous ponderings, as he often did before he slept. A steady knock on his door frame however, broke his attention to the tall man that stood in the archway, unreadable as always. Itachi blinked, turned away and let his hand fall from his loose hair. “Madara,” the younger Uchiha leaned back against his pillows casually as the former stalked into the room.
“I’ve been meaning to talk with you Itachi, it seems I‘ve been made a fool of for quite some time. Unnoticed nonetheless.” Itachi was forced to look into the blaring orange mask, the intensity in which his superior spoke was nearly startling. The bed moaned under the weight as Madara placed himself directly in front of the careful Uchiha.
“And this concerns me?” It was almost habit to activate his sharingan, Madara knew this well and didn’t take the sudden change as a threat. Regardless, Itachi thought, Madara’s sharingan had been displayed from the very start of this conversation. Both men sat opposite on the stiff bed, eyes never straying from the other’s face until Madara spoke once more.
“Tell me about the night of the massacre again, will you?” The younger stiffened at his words, narrowing his eyes at the faceless man in front of him. “Any small details I may have missed, after all, we took opposite sides of the compound did we not?” Itachi lowered his head slightly and pulled his eyebrows together, trying to remember all the suppressed memories from that night. It was something he tended to ignore, after all it took three entire years for the nightmares to stop playing every night. And even then, they came back every once in a while, as vivid as always.
“Yes, I believe that is what we agreed on. But I’m afraid I’m not following where you’re going with all of this.” His voice came out colder than ice, Madara knew better than to talk about the massacre. Regardless of how long ago it all took place, the wound still felt tender to the touch to him. The masked man shifted, crossing his leg and placing his arm on it to rest his head in place. His fingers softly drummed against the thick material of his mask, averting his eyes towards the ceiling. The older tried his hardest to fight away the fury that was slowly starting to seep out of him but to no avail as he clicked his tongue impatiently.
“Let me put it this way, I’ve been hearing some unsettling news. Something I may have possibly overlooked…” Itachi quirked a slender brow and Madara growled lowly. “Have you ever heard of a technique called Yumeriku?”
“No, I haven’t.” Itachi replied dully, unphased by the quiver in Madara's voice.
“That’s because it’s not a very common technique. Besides being a very ancient and slow tool in battle, it’s also very limited to the number of people who can use it.” He flipped his hand upwards knowingly as he carried on. “You see, this technique is considered weak by most. No matter how strong it can be if wielded properly, it’s much too soft to use on battle. Merciful. You wouldn’t want your enemy to die painlessly would you?” Itachi looked away and Madara smirked, “I’ve heard rumors lately, that this particular technique is being used by someone out far west.”
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with anything regarding that night.” Itachi’s fingernails were digging into the soft flesh of his hand, irritated with Madara’s vague and mysterious fashion of speaking. Madara straightened himself and directed his sights straight towards the rigid, cool mannered man in front of him. The scarlet glare of his Mangekyō could be seen through the small eyehole of his mask, challenging Itachi.
“This technique can only be used by someone with a certain bloodline limit. The sharingan to be more exact.” Itachi visually stiffened, letting his eyes stray from Madara‘s face in what appeared to be guilt. Itachi knew better, he couldn‘t hide it for long. A part of him though hoped that it would go unnoticed at least until he saw the void of death. He closed his eyes and reopened them, calming himself down inwardly and displaying that monotone look for Madara to see he wasn’t as surprised as Madara liked to think. “And we’ve been keeping all eyes on Sasuke, that boy’s too vicious to use such a gentle technique anyway. So who is it Itachi?” A noticeable shift in the air occurred, smothering the once breathable conditions in unwanted tension. Itachi was boring holes into the walls by now with his eyes, thinking over in his mind the best way to handle such a fragile situation. A wide grin set onto Madara’s thin lips, his eyes scrutinizing every movement Itachi let out. The gentle twitch near his mouth that showed he was irritated and holding back. The way his eyes focused on anything but that Mangekyō of Madara’s. It was almost enough to make him laugh at the show as it took a lot to break Itachi of his calm and gentle façade. Regardless of how minor the effects seemed on the outside.
“Uchiha Hinamei, she wasn’t worth killing at the time though. She’s not a fighter, merely useless.” Itachi said calmly, releasing the tension in his hands and looking up. Convincing Madara was not something he was going to do, either way Madara would make a decision based on his own wants, if he hadn‘t already made that decision. There was no use lying anymore.
“Then there would have been no inconvenience in killing her then, would there?” Madara pointed a finger at the younger Uchiha and shook it like he was scolding a child. “You like to make trouble for me, don’t you Itachi? You’re just as your name says, a weasel. Sly and sneaking like a rat, how fitting. That’s why I like you though.” Itachi’s obsidian orbs flickered upwards towards Madara, curious to the amusement that touched at the edges of Madara’s words. “And that’s why you’re going to fix this for me, I’m tired of obstacles. I want Kisame and yourself to find her and bring her back to me. I want to kill her personally just to make sure you don’t slip up, again.”
“I understand. What would you like me to tell Kisame then?”
Madara flicked his wrist and stood up, looking down on the young boy with an almost swelling of pride. “You’re intelligent, think of something.” And he left the room without uttering another word.