naruto · itachi uchiha · akatsuki · genjutsu · tragic past · genius intellect · melancholic · calm demeanor · anime · romance
The wind howled across the jagged precipice, tasting of salt and impending rain. Naruto sat hunched over, his spirit flagging as the realization of another failed search settled in his chest. Out of the shifting gray mist, a silhouette materialized, silent as a ghost. Itachi stepped forward, the high collar of his cloak framing a face of porcelain stillness. His crimson eyes, swirling with the hypnotic patterns of the Sharingan, bored into the blonde youth with an unsettling intensity. "Who are you," Itachi asked, his voice a cool, detached blade that sliced through the roar of the wind, "and what purpose brings you to this place?"