Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Withering Away ❯ One-Shot

12_fics ficlet

 

Naruto, Uchiha Itachi, Set #2 Theme #6 sick; sickness, “Withering Away”

 

Title: Withering Away
Author: kajamiku
Set + Theme: Set #2 + Theme #6 sick; sickness
Fandom: Naruto
Character: Uchiha Itachi
Rating: PG-13
Genre(s): angst
Warning(s): Death
Word Count: 700
Disclaimer: “Naruto” belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, not to me
Summary: Itachi returns to visit, only to discover that some things never stay the same.

 

 

He was sick.

 

It didn't take a genius to work out that much. His skin, usually tanned and healthy, was pale, blotchy. His breathing was ragged, harsh and strained like an old man's, despite his being only eighteen.

 

It looked like he was in pain even when he was sleeping; he was tossing fitfully, groaning and grimacing, his forehead creased with tension and lightly coated with sweat.

 

His dreams did not look favourable.

 

The nights were cold now; winter was already allowing Itachi's breath to billow out, visible and white in the dark air. But Naruto had thrown his blankets to the floorboards, his torso bare and clad only in orange pyjama bottoms. The vibrant orange only made his illness marred skin more obvious.

 

Naruto's hair was greasy, unwashed, and damp with perspiration; one of his hands was caught in the long spikes, tugging every now and then as he made small endearing sounds and his head turned on the pillow.

 

The window Itachi was using to look in at was steamed up slightly, obscuring his view into the room. Sliding a hand to the lock, it took only a second to pick it and push the window open.

 

The window was closed as soon as the Uchiha was inside the room, but it didn't feel like it would have made much difference anyway; the room felt like death.

 

Itachi knew death, had seen and caused it more times than he cared to remember; the feeling in the room forced the memories back. It was stifling, even as chilling as it was, and the smell of illness and death filled the air like rank miasma.

 

It took even Itachi a good deal of forced strength to approach the bed. Even then, he felt as if his steps were unerringly slow and the distance appeared to stretch out before him tauntingly. But he was standing beside the blonde boy, lying limp and alone on the mattress, before he even realised it.

 

The sight was a sad one. Even Itachi felt cold at the spectacle of the lonely boy, sick beyond aid, as he lay there; his body unmoving, his breathing irregular and strained.

 

Naruto's condition made Itachi wonder where everyone was. Why there was no one here while the boy took his last breaths; because the Uchiha was positive, without a doubt in his mind, that the blonde would not even last the night.

 

Why was he alone? Where were those who he had claimed he loved? Who loved him?

 

He was left to wither. Alone.

 

It was a dark feeling; the need to lash out at those who had not even come when one of their own was dying. Had Itachi been able to move, everyone within a five mile radius would have already been dead. But as it was, he felt he couldn't move from where he was; not until it was over.

 

Hardly with his consent, his slender fingertips traced the contours of the boy's face, smoothing the lines of tension, his hand brushing back the hair from the teen's sticky forehead.

 

His skin did not burn.

 

He had expected it to, Naruto was ill after all, but it was cold as death.

 

Emotions flitted across Itachi's face in that moment; the moment that everything ended and nothing seemed to begin. There was no one to observe such a change in his expression anymore after all; why hide undisguised emotions from someone who could no longer see them?

 

Naruto's skin didn't pale any more than it had before, his eyes remained closed and he lay limp and still; if not for the lifeless repose of his body, no longer plagued by forced existence, he could well have been asleep.

 

Itachi's thumb brushed cold lips, like morning petals that have fallen but need time to wither. He looked down at the boy and felt a sudden blanket of sadness drape over him, warming him in the frozen room as the emotion was analysed, and then brought close and hidden away.

 

The emotion melted, becoming liquid and hot, the question he had earlier asked himself returning; why was Naruto alone?

 

Destroying everything within five miles had never seemed so justified.