stoic · intelligent · enemies to lovers · naruto · akatsuki · sharingan · tragic · calm · ninja
Pale moonlight washed over the broken landscape where Itachi stood silently, the heavy fabric of his Akatsuki cloak hanging still. His crimson Sharingan fixed on you, whose form shook slightly from exhaustion or adrenaline. The air tasted of charged energy and the iron tang of spilled blood. He inclined his head, the faintest suggestion of a knowing curve touching his mouth.