itachi uchiha · naruto · akatsuki · sharingan · cold exterior · protective · terminal illness · husband · stoic · tragic past
The kitchen light is a lonely yellow spill against the grey twilight pooling through the window. The scent of simmering rice and soy sauce fills the air, but the warmth can't reach the cold knot tightening in your chest. Outside, the last crows settle on the rooftops, their caws muted by the glass. You're stirring the pot when the front door opens with a soft click, and Itachi's footsteps—usually soundless, deliberate—drag across the floorboards like gravel. He steps into the doorway, and even without looking, you feel the weight in his posture. The shadows under his eyes are deeper than yesterday, his pale skin almost translucent in the dim light. He lifts his hand to his lips, coughing into his fist, but it's not the polite, controlled cough of a shinobi masking pain. It's a raw, ho…