Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Dead By Eclipse ❯ Chapter 14

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Naruto.
A/N: Thank you to all the reviewers especially the loyal ones who review every chapter. You guys have no idea how much I love reading the reviews. :)

And a special thanks to Souji for beta-ing this chapter. Much love. :)

I have to give Souji partial credit for the clever title. I sent this chapter to him untitled, and he sent it back titled 'Requiem et Renaissance' and I was all 'huh? what's that?'... I actually have a very small vocabulary. I write my chapters with a thesaurus and dictionary pulled up online (hence my stories have large words in them partially from the thesaurus, and partially from Souji's massive vocabulary). So I went and looked 'em up.

Requiem: A mass for the dead (for those who aren't catholic, a mass is a church service).

I have a rule when writing/ posting my chapters... If I don't know the word, I will either provide the definition or use a smaller one all know the meaning of. lol.

This story and its prequel are by far the stories I have had the most fun writing. There is a special delight from them I did not get from writing the other stories I have, and I'm not sure what it is... probably just cause Itachi is my fav character and he is in these two so much. lol. Itachi is the best.

Warning: chapter contains references to sexual content... , and possible obscene language.

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Chapt er 14- Requiem for Love

You cannot rebuild without first destroying...

Itachi's words continue to echo through my head slowly ravaging every last shred of my sanity. I toss around in the large, plush bed, before rolling onto my side to face the clock. It was almost midnight. I sigh loudly, squeezing my burning eyes shut, trying desperately to fall into some form of slumber.

Come on, Kisame. Itachi and I are just fuck buddies.

My heart stings with regret at my past words and my fingers rise to clutch at my chest beneath the numerous folds of large, loose shirt. In my frustration, I violently kick at the covers, and my hairless naked legs sprawl across the bed sheets, finally free from the suffocating depths. After a moment of silent inactivity, I shake my head roughly against the pillow, fitting for sleep,... but the images continue to tear through my head savagely.

“Perhaps I made a mistake?” I think idly to myself, between the memories of spoken words and moans. “Now Itachi is mad at me... I knew I shouldn't have listened to Kisame. This didn't even crack Itachi's resolve!” I sigh in annoyance, already knowing tomorrow will be an even hotter hell than today...

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Kisame pushes the heavy front door open slowly and a loud groan escapes through the drafty cavern. He slides inside quietly, shutting the door behind him in as stealthily a manner as the old door allows. The shadows quickly engulf the tall shark-like man, and he quickly moves towards the staircase, but a shuffle from the couch claims his attention first. Kisame pauses anxiously, turning his head slightly before squinting his sleep deprived eyes painfully into focus on the shadow.

"Itachi...?” His voice is low, and after a pause, he continues his inquiry,” Is that you?" Kisame’s voice quivers with a hint of fear, as if to say, “And here I was hoping to avoid him all day until morning.”

Itachi does not reply, but simply unmasks his chakra allowing the menacing, oppressive force to engulf the room with its power as his answer. A cold, dreadful chill crawls up Kisame's spine, sending his skin on a mad dash across his body.

"Your little brother told you that we’re not serious, didn't he? Your brother only wanted to get your affection." Kisame tries desperately to steady his voice, but it wavers slightly nonetheless.

The Uchiha’s silence only serves to thicken the sense of unease that had already been stagnantly weighing down the air. All around him, the shadows appear to shift of their own accord across the walls, as if only to add to his Kisame’s anxiety. Kisame’s bestial, ebony eyes fix nervously on the fine outline of his partner, who is planted on the couch, with his back to him.

"And what part of you," Itachi begins, his placid voice contrasting sharply with the violence in his chakra, "thought this was a good idea?"

Kisame's throat tightens in dread, and his eyes fix unblinkingly on his partner, afraid to miss even the slightest of movements. The chakra grows denser, pressing the unspoken threat hard against Kisame's body constricting the forced breaths in his fear-stricken chest. A silent bead of sweat slides down the side of Kisame's indigo face.

Right, like I'm stupid enough to answer that. Heh. "And do you think it’s a good idea to destroy your brother's emotions?"

"Are you questioning me, Kisame?"

The ice etched into Itachi's complacent voice causes Kisame to take a small step back in surprise. The tone of the younger man's voice was almost pleasant, as if they were discussing their day serenely over a cup of tea, but Kisame could hear the underlying implication of danger. The sheer force of the chakra was anything but tranquil as it attempted to squeeze the life out of him, breath by breath.

With a decent bit of effort put forth, Kisame sucks in a deep, shaky breath. He attempts to calm his frayed nerves by forcing the air into his lungs, a last defense against the oppressive force of the chakra. He is all too keen on shedding the weight of the situation, the weight of Itachi’s passive rage, as his eyes drift to the stairwell.

Kisame eagerly avoids the question, scurrying around the trap, clearly being put into the role of Itachi’s entrapped mouse… a mouse that Itachi was much too enthusiastic about destroying… like his partner was just searching for a reason to kill him, "That’s what you intend to extirpate, right? You want to destroy your brother's emotions, just like you destroyed yours by killing your clan."

A sudden force slams against Kisame's chest, squeezing his torso far too tightly. Kisame grunts, stumbling backwards surprised as the air is knocked once again from his already starving lungs. Like a ragdoll, his body falls limply against the stairwell and the sensation of a few steps embedding into his back racks his body. He gasps for breath, his heart rate eventually falling back into a steady rhythm. His tender ribs burn from the unexpected force of chakra.

"Emotions make one weak, indecisive in battle." Itachi's hushed, carefully thought out reply drifts through the silent room, "Rebirth is a slow, painful process. Otouto will be stronger in the end thanks to my means, just as he became stronger from my test."

Kisame remains silent as he climbs to his feet sluggishly, exhausted from the long day and the sudden clash with Itachi. He quietly turns, slipping out of the dense, chakra-filled room and begins to ascend the stairs. Enjoying the privilege of free air flow, the tall man takes the liberty of sucking in a few deep breaths, the lack of pressure against his large, muscular chest coming as a relief. Kisame smoothes his disheveled cloak back into place, shaking off the last bits of residual terror from the incident in the living room.

The older missing-nin pauses, casting a lingering stare down the dark stairway at the back of the large couch. He knows he shouldn't, all of his senses telling him to just shut up and continue up the stairs, but he couldn’t resist having the last word.

"Stronger, huh. Well, next time you look at your little brother, tell me you see 'strong' in how he writhes from your torment." Kisame spits out sarcastically.

"Are you going to bed or conversing?" Itachi's calm reply comes from directly beside Kisame.

Kisame jumps slightly, shocked by how silently his partner had maneuvered beside him. He knows he shouldn't be, as he has never been able to hear Itachi's footsteps. Those thin pupils search the area where Itachi's voice had come from, but the room is far too dim to make out the other in anything but vague detail. The older man turns slowly, carefully, fearful that his partner's calm anger will lash out at any moment.

The taller ninja quickly climbs the stairs and navigates through the pitch black corridors until he encompasses the small brass knob of his bedroom door with his large hand.

"Sleep well, Kisame." The menacing words of his partner flow smoothly from beside him, like the finest silk against his skin.

Kisame sighs, partly to relieve the growing tension in his chest and partly out of annoyance. Then, it hits him like a brick. He thinks I’m after his brother. Kisame snickers lightly, glancing in amusement at the source of the voice. He can faintly make out the dim glow of crimson eyes, which narrow into cruel razors at the sound of his laughter.

"You know, if you kill your brother's emotions, then you kill his love for you as well... and then, we can both-" Kisame's snide remark drops dead, as the words catch in his rapidly tightening throat.

Itachi's eyes darken, taking on a murderous glow that sends Kisame's blood to ice in his veins. The shark-like man quickly twists the door knob and shoots into his room. Beyond the mahogany surface, Kisame can feel Itachi’s glare. The Uchiha merely shakes his head, breathing in the poorly masked scent of fear on the other side. With the click of a locking knob, Itachi turns briskly on his heels and travels the short distance to his room.

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The sound of a twisting door knob jolts me from my troubled thoughts. My eyes quickly flutter shut and I make a conscious effort to slow my breathing, limiting my body movement to only the occasional gentle stir. The thought that I’m laying sprawled indecently across the bed in nothing but my brother's shirt flashes through my mind. I could just imagine it, the black shirt hanging loosely over my small frame, revealing a creamy white shoulder from its oversized collar and two milk white legs from the hem that cuts off at my thighs. Well, it's not like he hasn't already seen me naked. A deep blush heats my cheeks at the thought. But still...

Eyes closed, I can hear the rustle of clothes being discarded on the floor. I feel a small dip in the mattress as my brother adds his weight in the bed, and the shift of cloth as Itachi makes an attempt to fiddle with the covers.

"Otouto... get off the blankets." Itachi's soothing voice speaks what is undoubtedly an order. A long, silent pause fills the room, as I lay on the blankets, pretending to be asleep. "I know you’re awake." A hint of impatience fills his words.

“Oh no you don't.” I think childishly to myself as I continue to play possum, wanting desperately to not have to deal with the object of my recent fantasies and worries. I scrunch my eyebrows at the feeling of fingers trailing lightly across my thighs. I slowly become aware that Itachi is sliding the hem of my shirt up, letting his touch tease the bare flesh.

I squeak involuntarily, shooting up in bed, before jerking the bottom of my shirt over as much skin as it could cover. I blush scarlet red, an icy glare already crossing my features at Itachi.

"Itachi! What the-!" The words die quickly on my tongue, as my eyes nearly shoot out of my head in shock.

I swallow hard, and painstakingly course my eyes from Itachi's well composed, relaxed face to his slender neck, down the soft dip of his milk white shoulder to the smooth, creamy expanse of skin on his perfectly chiseled chest. I nibble at my bottom lip, and allow my eyes to travel lower to his well-toned, muscular abdomen. I unconsciously slide my tongue across my bottom lips wetting the quickly drying skin. My gaze drifts even lower, eyeing the dark hem of his boxers which prevents my eyes from exploring further.

As if reading my thoughts, Itachi hooks his thumb into the hem and drapes his lithe arm loosely over his abdomen in a natural, yet teasing manner. My eyes shoot up, the hate already playing across them only to meet his calculating, steady gaze. It is as if his twisting sharingan are burrowing deep into my core, breaking me apart… revealing my thoughts and intentions.

"Get off the blankets." Itachi repeats in the same silky, passive voice, and I feel my body quiver in desire at the familiar tone.

I slide off the soft blankets and Itachi skillfully snaps them over us in a single quick motion. He shifts onto his side, and I practically drool over how his black tresses glide over the supple nape of his neck. My body begins to flush, and I can feel the pressure beginning to condense in my abdomen. Itachi tilts his head curiously to glance at me, and a few more raven strands slide teasingly across that tantalizing skin.

"Something wrong, Otouto?" Despite his expressionless face, I can hear the smirk etched into his words.

I swallow hard again, the thick lump tearing down my throat, and turn my back quickly to him while slipping deep beneath the covers. I whimper, my neglected erection sliding against the soft fabric with every movement. When did I start wanting him so badly? I wonder angrily, stringing a few rather inventive curse words through my head at how emotionless he could be, especially while sharing the same bed. I can't sleep in his bed every night. This is torturous. What would he say if I asked to sleep with Kisame? I kick myself mentally. No, no! Sleep in his bed, not with him.... whatever. I mentally wipe my thoughts clean and try once again to catch the sleep I so desperately covet.

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I moan softly, the clouds of sleep drifting from my foggy head, before I return to nuzzling my face deep into Itachi's soft body wrapping my arms and legs possessively around his cushiony frame... his soft, plush frame? My eyes snap open in confusion to discover that I’ve become entwined in an ocean of white fabric. I lift my heavy head to gain a better view of the pillow I must have been spooning whilst lying on my side. I roll my eyes at my pathetic behavior. Some proud Uchiha I've become. The Great Sasuke, straddling his lover, the pillow... Moron... My inner monologue condescends mockingly.

I release the pillow, kicking it a few times to let out my pent-up frustration. Slowly I slip from the soft down of the bed, which has since grown undesirable in the absence of Itachi. I sigh deeply, the regret gripping my chest. Itachi doesn't love me... how could I be so blind to think... A sharp chill gooses my skin from the familiar, seemingly unrelenting draft of the cavern. I tremble violently crossing the room to the closet. An artistic splash of red and black catches the corner of my eye, and I turn to see the same Akatsuki uniform from yesterday draped over the back of the small, wooden chair in the corner. I roll my eyes in childish agitation. Does Itachi think I'm some kid he needs to set out clothes for?

Still, I find myself eagerly stripping the large shirt to replace it with the Akatsuki uniform, inhaling Itachi's invigorating scent while I draw it on over my head. I smile contently, making the moment last as long as I can. When my eyes finally slide open, a few small crumbled up balls catch my eye in the garbage can. I recognize them immediately, noticing for the first time that my big brother had removed my clan's insignias from the bedroom walls... the ones I had taped to the walls in a tile pattern during my rebellion.

I growl in agitation slamming my fist against the hard wood of the dresser, its rattle filling the room. Itachi always had to win, and the annoyance of that simple fact simmers the red blood in my veins to a boil. I roughly jerk my fist from the dresser’s surface and turn sharply on my heels to leave. The sheer swiftness of my movement causes a small note to stir. I pause, watching it as it floats to the floor. I skillfully catch the stray paper, raising it gingerly to my curious eyes, the scrawls of my runaway note staring back at me.

I am sick of being your dancing fuck puppet, Itachi, you heartless bastard. I am not yours, I never will belong to you. I hate you, now leave me alone!

I stare a few moments longer at the last word, allowing it’s vicious tone to grill into my head. A bitter fear at the word’s implication begins to gnaw at my heart. I pray wordlessly, hoping to God that Itachi didn’t take the note seriously. Despite how meaningful those words were to me at the time, my brash foolishness has cost me enough in my lifelong pursuit of his love, and all because I am just too fucking proud... It’s just like Kisame had said. I shake my head in anguish, amazed by my own stupidity as I prepare to discard the shameful note. Leaning forward to toss it away, some writing on the back of it catches my eye. Furrowing my brow, I turn it over, my curiosity getting the best of me. The words staring back at me cause my mouth to slide open in astonishment.

If you are sick of dancing alone, Otouto, then perhaps you should ask me for a dance...

I reread the words in disbelief, before allowing the paper to fall to the ground. Closing my eyes, I allow the memories of our past encounters to wash over me with a new fondness that leaves a small smile playing across my lips. My hindsight on our brief scuffles is a hundred times clearer now, and I wonder how I could have been so foolish as to have not seen it then... My brother had been flirting with me the entire time...

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"The medics didn't learn much from the brunette’s body, other than that she was a water type and that she carried Orochimaru's curse seal. She had nothing with any useful information with her either. We are assuming that she was the red head's partner, but we cannot be certain." Shizune begins, her tone serious.

Kakashi motions to the aforementioned red head on the table, "How is she?"

Shizune frowns, her disappointment apparent as she slides the white medical sheet over the body, "I'm sorry, but there was nothing more I could do. It's a shame. We don't even have a name to mark her grave with."

"I do..." Kakashi whispers quietly, his expression detached, "She was the infamous bounty hunter, Crimson."

The medical ninja's head jerks up to face Kakashi, their eyes meeting in silence. Her short, dark hair hugs her face, sticking to the visible sheen of sweat from long hours of keeping watch over a patient in critical condition. Her eyes narrow at Kakashi suspiciously, "How could you know that...? No one knows what Crimson looks like. There is barely any information on her... Besides, she's wasn’t found with the spiritual sword that she was famous for wielding."

"No... She wasn't..." Kakashi pauses, certain of his suspicions. The circumstances however, were sending his judgment on their own rollercoaster ride, "But I fought her once, a long time ago... I just didn't recognize her at first. Her body has matured so much since our last encounter."

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Kakashi was leaping through the trees, following Pakkun back to his comrades which they had become separated from. At a small tuft of scarlet flashing past his vision, Kakashi expertly lands on the ground, prepared to investigate the cause of the disturbance.

"Alright, come out." Kakashi shouts confidently, his awareness heightened at the prospect of battle, "I know you're there."

A small, girl who appears to be about twelve slides from the bushes, dried blood soaking her clothes and staining her tanned skin. Her long, red hair was hanging in loose tendrils, those too clotted with blood. The girl looks shyly up to Kakashi through her numerous strands of matted hair, a light blush staining her skin still a further shade of crimson.

Kakashi blinks a few times in surprise, caught off guard by the sight of the girl before him. She’s such a young girl, and she’s covered in so much blood… What’s more astounding though, is that there’s not a single scratch on her.

His eyes move over the little girl carefully, taking in the small details of her appearance. Her stance strikes him first. The weight of her body being based more on one leg than the other, as if the other leg were injured and couldn’t bear the weight… Then, how her arms hung limply at her sides… Continuing on that path his eyes pause as they come to an unusual sword. The blade seemed like a ripple in water that had tear drops punched through the blade... As his eyes slide down the metallic surface, his vision is overwhelmed by an excess of blood dripping down the weapon.

"Crimson was famous for that." Shizune’s tone is matter of fact as she goes through the rumors that made up the young woman’s personal history , "She was known for delivering her bounty's covered head to toe in their own blood. She was known for her skilled swordsmanship."

Kakashi nods, "She was incredibly skilled, and not just for her age." But that wasn't what bothered me about the battle...

Kakashi grins as the slender body before him slams against the tree, the bark cracking from the force of the impact. Moving rapidly forward, he slams his Chidori towards her small frame... but the ball of condensed lightning stops an inch from her heart. The Copy Nin's brow furrows in a combination of disappointment and confusion, as he stares at the red head's soft, genuine smile. Her kind eyes flashing gently at the older man, and Kakashi shudders at the sudden sensation of cold steel resting on the side of his neck.

"I wasn't hunting you, Mister. I’m just passing through." A frown spreads across the man’s lips, knowing that he had never heard a sweeter voice.

Kakashi pauses, his eyes sliding down the surface of the blade that was placed all too gently against his jugular. He couldn’t help but be at a loss, the girl’s demeanor was anything but expected. Taking a few cautious steps back, Kakashi moves away from the blade, increasing the distance between them. The little girl turns quickly, the smile never leaving her lips as she disappears into the thick brush. The silver haired man allows his eyes to fall shut, replaying the event in his head, already trying to sort out the confusion. He knew the blade had reached his neck long before the Chidori was close enough for impact...

"She could have killed me..." He whispers to himself, the knowledge of that simple fact plaguing him with the all encompassing question of 'Why?'

Why didn't she kill me…? She just smiled... Why?

"Crimson, assuming that this is her, didn’t die from the recent injury to her liver, but instead from a mass of past injuries." Shizune’s voice is quite, as if somehow saying the news quietly was more respectful in the presence of the deceased.

"What do you mean exactly?" Kakashi asks, raising an eyebrow out of curiosity.

"Lady Tsunade must have been right about the girl being a medic. Her body is riddled with scars and remnants of previously healed injuries. I'm not saying there were other injuries, because there weren't. She very skillfully healed them all... but a body can only heal itself so many times before it takes its toll..." Shizune lets out a sigh, exhausted from her attempts to save the girl. "Her body was weakened from being healed over and over... and it finally just... gave out...."

Kakashi remains quiet, glancing in muted confusion at the form hidden beneath the white sheet. He kept his questions to himself, pondering over the young, seemingly innocent girl who had chosen to engage in the criminal act of bounty hunting. It makes sense now. She wasn't covered in her bounties blood... She was covered in her own.

"It's sad really... We don't even know her real name." Her voice is tinted with genuine sorrow, regret at the loss of a life.

"Yeah..." Kakashi whispers, his tone reserved, "But Crimson wasn't working for Orochimaru."

"How could you be so certain." Shizune scoffs softly, "Bounty hunters go wherever the money is."

"I just know." His tone is unchanged, as he pushes back the questions that will never be answered.

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I enter the kitchen quietly, hostile silence filling the room to the brim. I shudder lightly from the inhospitable cold, and slink towards the table. Kisame is crunching uncomfortably on some bacon, licking the oil from his greasy fingers before he smears his blood stained cloak with them. The shark-like man runs a tongue along his razor sharp teeth, his composure fixed and proud as he sits erect in his chair, but I can see an underlying discomfort as he shifts in unease beneath Itachi's harsh gaze.

He must still be mad. I think to myself, turning my attention to Itachi whose blood red eyes are glued on Kisame in harsh discontent. He sits, reclined in the chair, his form molding to the contour of the wooden seat easily. His position is relaxed as he allows his lithe left arm to dangle effortlessly over the back of the chair, all the while the right feeds him his morning fruit. I follow the juice hungrily with my eyes watching it in fixated lust as the liquid dribbles from his mouth down the soft curve of his chin. As if he knows of my unsatiated desire, a wet tongue greedily laps up the escaped juice from his lip, and I swallow back a moan from the sultry motion.

I shake my head knocking the adulterous thoughts from my head, scolding myself for having such little self-control. I reach for the chair that is placed in between them, preparing to sit down to breakfast. A plate of bacon and eggs is already waiting for me from Kisame's forethought. Suddenly the chair is jerked roughly from my grip grating loudly across the wooden floor towards Itachi's side. I glance beneath the table to see Itachi's foot unwinding from the leg of my chair before slithering back to his side of the table. I glance back up to Itachi, his expressionless face revealing no specific reason for his actions. His cold, crimson eyes are merely narrowed in malice towards Kisame.

I have always found it striking, how even when Itachi is being cruel he still manages to drape himself in an incomparable elegance. His midnight locks frame the same perfectly complacent face, undisturbed with the faulty lines of human expression, giving his beauty a nature only captured by art. His fine, porcelain skin traces across his body sharply defined by the dark cloth that hangs loosely from his slender, graceful limbs. But to me, the epitome of his allure will always be in how the still, unmoving grace of his passive face sharply contrasts with the pools of deep seeded turbulence of his fiery eyes. It is quite fitting, how the prodigy of our clan should have the passion of such fire in his eyes. It is as if it’s breathed to life, and only fueled further by the fan that made up our crest.

His head tilts slightly, sending a cascade of ebony locks across his smooth, flawless ivory skin. I watch, entranced by the heavenly display of perfection before me.

Letting out a sigh, I slide into the chair at my brother’s side before pulling my plate in front of me, "How long are you going to stay angry, Itachi?" I ask. My tone only holds the slightest trace of annoyance as I fixed the folds of my Akatsuki cloak on my small frame.

Itachi remains silent, his expression revealing no sign that he even heard my words. Kisame throws me a smirk, tilting his head towards me to gain a better view, "You decent beneath that cloak today, kid?" His voice is playful.

Itachi's eyes take on a murderous glow and his face appears to have morphed into the consistency of stone, clearly not amused by his partner’s comment. I smirk, my eyes shifting to Itachi as a teasing grin spreads across my face, "For now."

"If you want him, then take him." Itachi speaks slowly, carefully. His voice revealing not a trace of emotion from his stone set face.

Kisame abruptly lays his hands flat on the table, leaning back in surprise. I stare at Itachi, hurt from my attempted pass being thrown back in my face. However, the sting from the verbal slap only heightens when Itachi smoothly speaks his next heartless, detached words.

"We're just fuck buddies after all." Itachi turns to face me, his tranquil face revealing how purposely the statement was spoken. His eyes sharply contrast his cool, composed face with a vicious hatred I can feel tearing my heart to shreds.

I turn my eyes towards the table, downcast. The full effect of my past actions are finally catching up to me. This is truly all my fault. I cannot blame it all on Kisame's idea, because I was the one who was too naive and foolish to see Itachi's seemingly cold pranks for what they really were... A lover's tease... I was the one who never teased back… Now the most coveted love, a love that was freely given, is gone... Because it wasn't good enough for me... And now it is truly unattainable…

I bite my lip, my deep thought etched into my facial features. My brow slips limply into a sorrowful image, before I rise from the table dejected and turn towards the kitchen doorway. Kisame glances from me to Itachi, and then back to me with a slight hint of worry on his face. This isn't good... Our partnership will fall apart if this isn't resolved... Kisame rises a bit too quickly from the table, jarring it lightly, but not quite enough to take Itachi's cold eyes from my back.

Kisame catches up to me, resting a large hand on my shoulder. His massive arm drapes around my small shoulders falling in perfect sync with me as I take my sluggish steps. He leans his head down, his breath whispering sly words into my ear.

"Don't mind Itachi. Come on, let's go to my room…"

I can feel the burn of Itachi’s sharingan, as it focuses intently on our backs. All of the rage that had been boiling beneath the surface was evident in that glare as those eyes fell analytically across the scene before him. Our bodies linked partially together… sashaying towards the kitchen doorway.

"Where are you going." Itachi’s voice is quiet and all too placid, as if daring us to make him speak any louder as we make our exit.

I pause momentarily in the doorway, not bothering to turn and face his beautiful form.

"To Kisame's room," My answer comes a bit too harshly, but it suffices and we both continue forward before disappearing through the doorway.

I can feel Itachi's violent eyes burrowing holes into my back long after we leave the room.

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My eight year old boy slid its petite form across the bed affectionately against the warm encompassing form of my older brother, my spiky tuft of hair nuzzling into the nook of the elder's soft neck lovingly.

I giggled playfully, fisting the dark shirt of my aniki into tiny fists, before gazing up adoringly into the dark abyss of aged eyes.

"I love you, aniki," I cooed, pledging my undying song to him, "You love me too?"

My only desire is to hear those words, and my eager ears listened intensely for the phrase to be pledged back. Such simple words... but the meaning is enough to drive one to despair when not requitted, verbal or otherwise.

For that reason, I waited impatiently, with heightened hearing, and I listened avidly to the chorus of our synchronized hearts beating as one. My aniki turned to me, his passive face perfect chiseled porcelain and his eyes hollow depths of black space...

"Love is an illusion..." Itachi's smooth, silky voice tore through me like razors.

"My love for you is not an illusion." I spat back in defensive denial, hurt brimming my large, ebony eyes in the form of tears.

I stared up adoringly into the calm face of the one I esteemed on such a high pedistool above all else, and I did not believe those words, casting them aside as a lie... because aniki's love was the breath in my lungs, and his affections came in the form of shared secret kisses and jolts of passion flaming through his eyes before being swallowed into its black depths. It was those secrets that made me special to him... the unspoken moments exchanged only with me.

If I believed the lie, swallowed its poisonous words and cast aside this love Itachi deems an illusion... then I would have suffocated....

But is it an illusion? Itachi, show me, please, for this silence is...

The eclipse of my death... falling into the obscurity of your eyes...

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A/N: Did you like? I hope so. :)

If the italicized style or writing at the end, where Sasuke is eight in the flashback, seems a bit different from the rest of the chapter, that's cause idiot me forgot to add it before I sent it to Souji, my beta, so the italicized ending wasn't beta-ed as a result... betad? beta-ed? Whatever, my grammar sucks.

I hope to have the next chapter up soon. So please review, and let me know what you think!