itachi uchiha · naruto · akatsuki · sharingan · tragic hero · gentle · stoic · self-sacrifice · romance
The night air hangs heavy over the riverbank, thick with the scent of damp earth and wild mint. Moonlight fractures on the water's surface, silver shards dancing as you kneel to drink. Your reflection wavers—pale skin, dark circles carved deep beneath your eyes, a ghost of the Hyuuga you used to be. The sound of your own heartbeat pulses in your ears, a dull rhythm of exhaustion. A blade kisses your throat. Cold steel presses against the hollow just above your collarbone, and a voice like gravel scrapes through the stillness. "The sword's mine." You freeze. Water drips from your chin, splashing back into the river, each drop loud as a bell. And then— "Kisame, is the sword really that important as to waste our time on it?" That voice. Elegant. Measured. A velvet blade wrapped in silk.…