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Breathe	By : Rosebud Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 874 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Breathe
- 1
Author’s Note: So, I still have writer’s block; in case you guy are wondering why I haven’t updated my other fics. I actually wrote this a few weeks back in a vain attempt to work through my dry spell…I wasn't very happy with it at the time, so I just let it rot away in my computer. However as I was going through my files today, I found it, re-read it, and made a few changes. I thought that it would make for a nice one-shot. No sex here; just a warm moment between Naruto and Itachi. This is cannon based, not long before Itachi kills his clan. Enjoy! XD

Not Beta’d. Please excuse any mistakes.

Itachi’s reflective thoughts
Emphasis
……

I wear a mask. The perfect façade…

I draw from the depths of my flesh, the most ostensible image—although my heart beats, I am no longer alive.

I breathe in the air. But it is stale and distasteful. My lungs are filled to the brim, though asphyxiation is inevitable. I find myself descending into a fate that I can not escape.

I am the essence of which every man is made of, and yet, I exceed that image with such simplicity. The untouchable moon in the heart of the twilight; cold, dark, lonely…

I am all of this and so much more.

Yet, a simple smile broke me…

Such a warm voice brought me back to life…

The image of azure orbs and golden hair—that perfect light, it touched my soul. It made me warm. If for only in his presence did I feel free and enthralled by emotions—acceptance, hope…and if I dare chose to cherish that sentiment—love.

Breathe

Written By: Crimson2006

It was late, a little after midnight to be precise. Uchiha Itachi had just returned from a three week mission and was beyond tired. Even he, who all thought was holy and embodiment of god; could find himself weak and weary after such a long ordeal. Not that he let it show. This mission though –above all others– had been truly exhausting; and such as it was, the thirteen year old was eager to turn in his report and make his way home. Even at such a forsaken hour Fugaku was sure to be up and Itachi figured that he’d have at least two lessons to finish before he could actually go to bed.

Lessons; that mere implication made his head hurt. He was supposed to be perfect though; an emotionless killing machine. So it was not in his duty to complain about a late night literature session or a friendly battle to test his skills. Even if there was nothing friendly about the way his father sparred.

Suppressing a sigh, Itachi turned to his other two teammates and gave a stiff nod. There was no reason that they all had to suffer through the task of handing in the report. Besides, he was the captain; it was his obligation to make sure that things got done. God Itachi hated that word, hated his title and the perfection that was associated with his name. He didn’t let it show though, because emotions such as that were perceived as a weakness, and he was perfect. Thus, he wasn’t allowed to enact them.

Apparently taking the hint, his two teammates gave a nod and receded in their respectable directions, each one traveling towards their home. It was a real home though, not like the one where Itachi lived. Their walls did not hold deadly secrets; did not know what expectation was, nor did they see what happened when it wasn’t achieved.

Itachi paused in step as he mused over that contemplation, his thoughts wavering in regards to his little brother. On so many levels Sasuke was lucky to be ignored—to be cast aside and yet the brat didn’t even care about what he had. Honestly his little brother disgusted him. Not really for the fact that his Otouto was naïve, but more so because he couldn’t have what Sasuke did. Itachi didn’t have the freedom, the happiness—the choice to do what he wanted with his life. Sure Fugaku was hard on the boy. But in comparison to what Itachi had to put up with, his Otouto was very lucky indeed.

Glancing up, Itachi pushed those thoughts aside. He could already see the Hokage tower, a lone light illuminating from the bay sized window, letting him know that Sarutobi was still there. That man was a workaholic if Itachi ever saw one. But most people didn’t know that side of the Hokage. They only saw what Sarutobi wanted them to see, and in that aspect, he and the old man had a lot in common. They each had their own walls and defenses and they were both horrifyingly aware of what the word sacrifice implied.

Again feeling the ache of exhaustion upon his shoulders; Itachi released an audible sigh and reached up to remove his mask. He was home now and it was late. He doubted that anyone was still up –his senses indicated that the area was clear– and he was tired of wearing that mask. Perhaps not so much the physical, verses the mental. But there was only one that he could actually afford to take off.

After a good fifteen minutes of walking –more contemplation and reflection taking place– Itachi felt the flow of several low level chakras and placed the wooden mask back over his face. He was still a few blocks from the Hokage tower and could have probably taken to the roof to avoid having to correct his uniform, but for some reason, he chose not to. In fact, he oddly found himself seeking out the likes of those chakra bearing civilians and the light sound of tears that was accompanying them.

Normally, Itachi would have turned the other cheek if he thought that someone was in trouble—it wasn’t his business and he did not like to get involved with other people’s problems. This perhaps was a notion that he learned from Fugaku; something that had been drilled into his head so that Itachi would never forget it. He was perfect, everyone else wasn’t, and thus he didn’t need to be concerned with the likes of those that might drag him down. Tonight though, it was different. There was something about the way the words ‘Please stop’ and ‘don’t hurt me’ rolled into the night.

The voice sounded like that of a child…

Oddly, it reminded Itachi of himself—of his own inner cries. The ones that he was never allowed to voice. And because of it, he felt rather obligated to save that faceless child; perhaps in the same aspect that he was trying to save himself. Turning the corner, he made his way down a rugged old street, the cobble stone upturned, withered away with age. It wasn’t until he’d walked a good block and a half, that the thirteen year old ANBU member stopped cold, surprised by the enactment that was being displayed before him.

Be as it may, Itachi was no stranger to cruelty. He had known pain, just as he had known death and suffering—acts of torture both given and received. But what he saw in that moment moved him in ways that he didn’t think was possible. There in the darkness of the night, was a boy; a child who looked to be no older then Sasuke –maybe slightly younger though it was hard to tell from where the Uchiha was standing– being ruthlessly beaten. Letting his red eyes take in the sight, Itachi watched the youth cower on the ground, his body balled up as he cried profusely –begging for his attackers to halt their assault. Itachi noted, that altogether there were four older, much more defined men surrounding the boy. Those vile mortals kicking and hitting him; some with their feet, while other’s used blunt objects. Itachi was disgusted by the sight –more then he should have been in regards to a worthless child– yet, in less then three seconds and bearing absolutely no hesitation, he stood before the boy, the blood of those four men covering the street.

In reality, he had known that it was wrong to act out so heedlessly, but in his mind, he had enjoyed taking their lives. Those four men were the epitome of corruption in flesh; they were just like his father…tainting the innocent or attempting to do so. Itachi had been pure once, so many years ago that he could not remember it. And the teenager didn’t know if he should be sadden by that fact, or angry because he could no longer grasp the concept of it.

Once again, he was reminded of Sasuke—that foolish, foolish child.

Red eyes closed wearily as he settled his mind into a calm state, and when they opened back up, they were looking into blue. Beautiful blue— something so unnatural that it took his breath away, and in that moment –if only for the fraction of a heartbeat– Itachi felt his mask fade.

In the seconds that followed –for reasons that the elder could not comprehend– he felt his Katana slip from his bloodied hands, the metal clanging to the ground with a sharp twang. The boy who was sitting there in the street, didn’t move, didn’t say a word—not even when the masked ANBU member dropped to his knees, the eye slits letting the child barely take notice of the spinning Sharingan.

“Are you going to kill me too?” The boy sobbed; gnawing away on his lower lip, in a fashion that could only be described as adorable.

Itachi shook his head and pulled off his mask slowly, breaking the rules for a second time that night. The wooden piece fell to the ground. It again, was the only sound to reverberate down the long ago deserted streets. A bloody hand drifted up by its own accord and the cold sticky sensation of death, slid across the scarred face. Without realizing what he was doing, Itachi pulled the boy close to him in a warm embrace.

The child frozen, every muscle going stiff, every nerve coursing with fear for what this ANBU member might do. But then, he felt the gentle touch of those cold fingers run over his arms in smooth strokes, he felt a hand drop down to his waist and coil around his back, pulling him deeper into the teenagers warmth. The blonde raised his own arms in response, carefully touching the raven's long hair, running his tiny finger's over the armor, cloth and pale flesh.

All too soon, Itachi was pulling away and the blue eyes were asking questions that he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Go home.”

The blonde gave a confused look, but nodded; running off into the night. Looking back only once, he smiled at the stranger before disappearing from sight.

Itachi watched the boy retreat into the darkness before looking to the mess that encircled him. It was going to take a good twenty minutes to clean it up and dispose of the bodies. It seemed as if the idea of sleep was not a prospect that he could pursue anytime soon.

~End

*Note* there is a sequeal to this called: "Exhale"
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