Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello and welcome to this new fanfiction!

While waiting for the Captive Reader project to resume, I decided to offer Itasaku fans a fanfiction just for them!
Because let's be honest... we don't have many on this platform

The idea came to me quite simply, during a discussion with @Jajanime.

A quick summary of the exchange:

Jajanime: I wrote a one-shot about them.

Me: Oh, go ahead, send it!

Jajanime: Lol, I deleted it a long time ago.

Me: Oh, that's too bad...

Jajanime: Well, you can just write one yourself.

Me: OK.

There you go. That's literally how it went 😭
I don't know why, but every time she gives me advice, it really motivates me.
Big respect to her ❤️

@Jajanime also created the cover for this fanfiction, and it's simply sublime. I'm still shocked by how perfectly she captured the mood. Really, a huge thank you to her 🩷

I would also like to thank from the bottom of my heart the people who have supported me from the beginning.
Your messages were lovely to read. Thank you 🩷

The Itasaku community isn't very big, so I'd really like those who love this ship to discover this story ✨
Share it as much as you can!

 

🥀

Take a deep breath. Open your eyes. And let yourself be carried away...

The world is changing. And it all starts now.

𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗗

Chapter Text

My heart is breaking, I couldn't spend another night without your smile.

🥀

The voices spoke to him, but Itachi paid no attention. His mind remained focused on the game he was playing. Opposite him, a man with salt-and-pepper hair scratched his chin, looking visibly sheepish. His eyebrows were furrowed and his gaze shifted from one room to another.

Itachi could see his hesitation.

__ Seriously, kid... how do you do it? His voice was annoyed.

Itachi slowly raised his head, tired of repeating the same things. His face remained impassive, his black pupils staring intently at the man. His eyes looked like two gaping holes sucking in the soul of anyone who approached him. He hardly blinked. He didn't answer. What was the point? He was asked that question every time. He wasn't the talkative type. And the adults around him, in his eyes, were nothing but idiots.

He looked up at the sky, where the clouds had given way to the sun. A sigh escaped his lips, almost inaudible, and he played his last move, ending the game. The exclamations around him grew louder. But Itachi couldn't take it anymore. The noise, the incessant hubbub, was making his temples throb. He got up without another word, leaving behind the man who was already calling him back for a rematch.

Wait! Come on, one more game!

He didn't even turn around. One question crossed his mind, though. Why were they all so weak? Hadn't they had a whole lifetime to improve? Why did they remain so predictable?

Why did humans keep repeating the same mistakes?

This weakness disappointed him, almost bored him. Itachi continued on his way to the hospital door. The walls around him seemed washed out, as if the color itself had fled this place. To him, the world was nothing more than a huge gray watercolor painting.

Itachi had always been a lonely child. Since birth, he had observed more than he had spoken. He didn't laugh. He didn't cry either. He observed. He ate when he was forced to, with no preference for sweet or savory foods. He found no pleasure in training, but he pursued it tirelessly, driven by one desire: to become stronger.

Not to be recognized by everyone.

But to never again relive the images of that war, two years earlier. His existence was rhythmic, mechanical: getting up, training, eating when his mother insisted, and sometimes just staring at the ceiling of his room in silence.

He felt neither desire nor envy.
He never had.

He loved his parents sincerely.
But he understood something that few children perceive: love is not enough to make you happy. And despite their affection, despite his mother's smiles or his father's rare gestures of tenderness...

His world remained monochrome.

“Are you lost, sweetie?” asked a soft, feminine voice.

He looked up. The receptionist, a woman in her thirties with a red-tinged smile, was leaning over the counter. Her brown eyes stared at him as if she had seen a pretty object in a shop.

“I'm looking for Mikoto Uchiha's room,” he replied in a neutral tone.

“Oh, of course! It's room 129. Take the right hallway and follow the numbers starting at 100.”

“Thank you,” he said briefly.

The woman was about to offer to accompany him, but he had already turned on his heel. He walked through the silent corridors of the hospital, where only the distant hum of a medical cart broke the silence.

He stopped in front of door 129. He reached out his hand... but hesitated. A shiver ran down his spine.
Why was he hesitating? He didn't know. Instinct, perhaps.

After a few minutes, the brown-haired man finally decided to enter the hospital room.

The smell of antiseptic hit his nostrils. He grimaced; he had always been sensitive to smells.

His mother was lying on the bed, looking tired but smiling gently. In her arms, a small bundle wrapped in white sheets was moving softly.

Itachi approached quietly.
He stood still, his eyes fixed on the infant. A small tuft of black hair escaped from the fabric.

“This is your little brother,” Fugaku declared proudly, placing his hand on his son's shoulder. “Sasuke Uchiha.”

Itachi didn't respond. He watched the baby who had just cried for the first time. He knew nothing of the world. He knew nothing of pain, boredom, war, or loss.

A life is ending.

Memories of war flooded his mind.

Another is beginning.

 

He didn't dare touch him. The baby seemed so tiny... so fragile...
He almost wondered if it could break.

A lump formed in his throat. His fists clenched.

Mikoto tenderly took his hand. She guided his finger to the newborn's. The baby immediately grabbed it, firmly, as if it already recognized something in him.

Itachi's eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly, surprised by this sensation.

“He...” he began, uncertain.

Mikoto chuckled when she saw her son's bewildered face; it was rather amusing to watch, as Itachi was the type to hide his emotions. The infant giggled and brought his brother's finger to his mouth. Itachi recoiled slightly, embarrassed by the warm saliva covering his skin.

“Hello, Sasuke... I'm your big brother,” he whispered, gently stroking the baby's head.

His father smiled proudly, happy to see his eldest son taking his role as a big brother so seriously.

“You'll be an excellent big brother, Itachi. Your little brother is lucky to have you.”

For some reason, Itachi didn't answer his father, instead his heart tightened in his chest. He continued to gaze at his little brother, reflecting on the meaning of life. He wondered why some lives began while others ended. Why was his little brother born at this precise moment, when so many others never would be?

He knew that death was a part of life, that it was inevitable. But he couldn't help wondering what it really meant. Why did people have to die? And why did some die sooner than others?

These questions troubled him, but he knew he didn't have the answers. He simply held his little brother even tighter, as if he could protect him from all the injustices of the world.

__ Look, Itachi... he's opened his eyes, whispered his mother softly, her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink as she watched her son.

And suddenly, time stood still.
Everything froze.

Two black eyes, identical to his own, met his gaze.

The infant had opened his eyes.

Two black pearls, still misty from birth, met Itachi's. And at that precise moment, something cracked in his heart.

The world, which Itachi had always perceived in shades of gray, seemed to change.
At first, it was a barely visible color: a beige tint, the color of Sasuke's skin.

Then another appeared, a light pink, like the baby's cheeks, or the breath of his mother laughing softly beside him. The walls, which he hadn't noticed when he entered, took on a soft blue color. Even the dull hospital light seemed less cold to him.

He felt a strange sensation in his chest.

His heart was beating.

It was beating fast. Faster than before. Not because of a fight or physical exertion. But because of that look, that little hand resting against his. A bond had just been formed.

Itachi lowered his head slightly, watching the little being who was still sucking his finger.

A smile.
A real one.
A small, discreet, awkward, but sincere smile formed on his face.
The first one since... he couldn't even remember when.

It wasn't a polite smile. Nor was it a smile meant to reassure. It was a smile that came from deep within something he thought was absent in him.

He said nothing. He didn't need words. But he knew, deep down, that something had changed. For the first time, his world had ceased to be completely gray.

And all of this... was thanks to Sasuke.

🥀

That day, something even stronger was born within him.

He didn't know the word for it yet. It was engraved somewhere in his flesh.

In his heart.

He looked once more at this little being clinging to his finger, fearless, defenseless, trusting.

Sasuke.

He knew nothing of the world. He didn't yet know war, loneliness, pain.
And Itachi, at that moment, understood that he didn't want him to know them.

Ever.

He didn't want those eyes to see what he had seen. He didn't want those hands to get dirty like his. He didn't want that innocence to be destroyed.

So, without saying a word, Itachi made a promise.

I will protect you. No matter what happens.

Against the world.
Against the clan, against Konoha...
Against himself, if necessary.

Even if it cost him his life.
Even if he lost everything.
He would protect Sasuke.

At only five years old, Itachi Uchiha had just sealed his fate.

And his world, for the first time, took on a true color: that of sacrifice.



 

Itachi Uchiha stood facing his brother Sasuke, his body exhausted and his breath short. His tired gaze was fixed on Sasuke, who stood opposite him, trying to escape from him by backing up against the wall.

Itachi knew he didn't have much time left. He had used all his strength to protect his brother, to give him a chance to live and become stronger. But now he was out of breath, unable to continue fighting. He slowly looked up at Sasuke, but his vision was blurry. Everything was blurry. He felt his body weakening and life slowly leaving him. He wondered if this was the end. He looked at the blurry shape of Sasuke in front of him. He couldn't see his face clearly, but he could feel his presence. Itachi remembered all the moments he had spent with his brother, all the happy moments they had shared, but also all the suffering he had endured to protect Sasuke.

Your existence is the most beautiful thing that ever happened to Sasuke. I don't regret loving you so much.

He wanted to tell him, but that would ruin everything he had planned for his little brother: a happy life, a life without him.

If only he had done things differently, if only he hadn't tried to carry all the burdens alone, maybe he wouldn't be in this situation. Genocidal, a deserter, a cold-blooded terrorist killer. He had allowed himself to be led like a pawn on missions, obeying every order he was given. If he had sought help, maybe... maybe he could have changed his parents' and the clan's minds.

Perhaps in another life, he would have had the courage to speak to his father face to face, and not when his father had his back turned and was about to die.

Another life...

__ I'm sorry, Sasuke, that was the last time.

He reached out his hand to Sasuke and gently placed two fingers on his forehead, giving him a little flick. It was a symbol of the bond that united them, a brotherly bond, an eternal love.

No matter what, even if the whole world was against Sasuke, he would always be with him.

Itachi slowly closed his eyes and smiled faintly, hoping he had managed to convey all his love for Sasuke. He felt his body collapse and his breath gradually fade away. But he was satisfied, because he knew that Sasuke would continue to live, to fight, and to become stronger, just as he had always wanted.

He closed his eyes, preparing for death. But instead of feeling pain, he suddenly felt light, as if he were floating in the air. Everything around him was white, and he couldn't see anything else.

Then, suddenly, he woke up in his room, his body still young and full of energy.

What?

 

_________________________

Send us your feedback!
I hope you enjoyed the chapter 🤭

🩷: I'm going to cry... Itachi discovering color thanks to Sasuke? My heart melted 🥹

💜: 6-year-old Itachi beating adults at chess? Slay bb 💅

❤️: ITACHIII THE MOST BEAUTIFUL

Chapter Text

 

𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗗

 

 

 

Take a deep breath, open your eyes, and let yourself be carried away...

 

 

 

 

©- 𝗦 𝗛 𝗔 𝗜 𝗡 𝗘 𝗭 - 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Even though our opinions differ, I am still very proud of you, Itachi. You have always been such a kind boy,"

his father had told him. Those words still echoed in Itachi's mind as he slowly slid down into a corner of the room Madara had assigned him at the Akatsuki headquarters.

He buried his face in his arms, resting them on his knees drawn up against him, and began to cry silently.

 

🥀

 

__ I'm sorry, Sasuke, that was the last time. 

 

He reached out his hand to Sasuke and gently placed two fingers on his forehead, flicking him lightly. It was a symbol of the bond that united them.

Itachi slowly closed his eyes and smiled faintly, hoping that he had managed to convey all his love for Sasuke. He felt his body collapse and his breath gradually fade away. But he was satisfied, because he knew that Sasuke would continue to live, to fight, and to become stronger, just as he had always wanted. He closed his eyes, preparing for death. But instead of feeling pain, he suddenly felt light, as if he were floating in the air.

Everything around him was white, and he could see nothing else.

Everything around him was white, and he couldn't see anything else?

What?

He opened his eyes.

He gasped, as if he had just come out of the water. His breath filled his lungs, and he felt a soft sheet against his skin. A familiar smell wafted through the air—laundry.

He wasn't there anymore. He was in a room. His room. He sat up slowly, still short of breath. His arms were thinner. His legs were smaller. He looked around, disoriented. The room was exactly as he remembered it: white walls, a small window half-open onto the garden, the single bed, the light wood bedside table, the massive wardrobe with round handles, and a few framed photos on the wall. Everything was in its place. Too much in its place. His heart raced.

He stood up, almost staggering under the shock. His fingers brushed the desk, the window handle, the photo he had taken with Shisui during the spring festival. 

 

Everything was real. 

 

"What the...?" he whispered, stunned.

 

That's when he heard a noise behind him. He turned around quickly and his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the doorway was his mother. Alive.

She was carrying a basket of clean laundry in her arms, wearing a short black dress, her long black hair tied back in a simple bun with a few strands slipping over her shoulder. Her face... The face he had seen collapse in the shadows of a bloody night. That face he had seen die under his own blade.

But today, that same face was smiling softly, peacefully. Her black eyes were shining. She was alive. Standing. Alive.

Time seemed to stand still around him.

His mother.

The woman he had loved so much.

The woman he had murdered.

He staggered. A dull thud exploded in his chest, then another. His breathing quickened, his hands trembled. He opened his mouth, unable to say anything. Mikoto looked at him, worried. Her son wasn't the type to make such an expression, let alone one so desperate.

 

__ Itachi... ? What's wrong? Are you sick?

 

But he didn't answer. He rushed towards her without thinking. The basket slipped from his arms and fell to the ground with a thud. He held her close with desperate force, as if by this simple touch he could repair all the lost years, erase the death, the blood, the loneliness.

 

"Mom..." he whispered, his voice broken.

 

She stood frozen for a moment, surprised. Then her arms slowly wrapped around her son. She felt him trembling against her, his forehead nestled in her neck, his hands clenched in the fabric of her dress.

 

"Hey... it's okay, sweetheart. I'm here."

 

He sniffed softly. A tear rolled down his cheek. He had forgotten how good she smelled. That simple, clean, familiar scent, a mixture of flowers and laundry detergent.

 

"You... you're really here...?"

 

Mikoto's eyes widened slightly, disturbed by her son's high-pitched tone.

 

"Of course I'm here! Where else would I be? You had a nightmare, didn't you?"

 

He nodded gently against her, unable to tell her the whole truth. How could he explain? That he had grown up, that he had killed her, that he had lost everything? How could he confess to a mother that her twelve-year-old son was going to murder her? 

 

She pushed him away slightly to see his face. Her gaze softened.

 

__ Have you been crying? My poor angel... You're growing up, but you're still my little boy, you know...

Itachi wanted to smile. But he knew he wouldn't be able to without crying. He never imagined he would see her again. Suddenly, he understood. He had returned to the past. But his mind... His mind still bore the scars of a man broken by battle, ravaged by illness and impossible choices. 

 

"I'm sorry..." he stammered, his throat tight.

 

"What are you apologizing for?"

 

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

Instead, he pulled his mother back into his arms, even tighter, as if he refused to let her go a second time.

 

She gently stroked his hair. And he slowly let her go, afraid that it was a dream or an illusion and that he would lose her again.

 

"Would you like to stay with me for a while? I have tea in the kitchen... and sesame cookies. You liked them, didn't you?"

 

He nodded, unable to let go of her hand. She bent down, picked up the basket with a smooth movement, then smiled at him.

 

"Come on then. You can help me fold the laundry and tell me about your dream. It must have been terrible for you to be so upset."

 

As he followed his mother down the hall, Itachi finally noticed the state of his own body. His posture was straighter, more supple, without the joint pain he had come to accept as normal. His breathing was no longer painful. He no longer had that throbbing pressure in his chest, that constant fatigue, or the internal pain he had learned to hide.

 

His illness. That silent thing that was slowly eating away at him. It was gone. He no longer coughed up blood when he woke up. His ribs no longer burned at the slightest effort. This body... was healthy.

 

His gaze rested for a moment on his hand. It no longer trembled. He took a deep breath, but his heart remained heavy. It wasn't his body that weighed him down. It was his conscience. Itachi continued on and slowly descended the stairs next to his mother, absorbing every detail of his childhood home, from the smell of laundry in the house to the soft sound of the kettle in the kitchen.

 

"Sasuke got up early today," Mikoto said softly, her eyes narrowed. "He wanted to wait for you for breakfast, but he fell asleep at the table."

 

After a short silence, Mikoto added with a smile:

He admires you so much. Even when you're not there, he talks about you to everyone.

 

Itachi turned his head slightly, avoiding his mother's gaze. He wasn't ready to face her, let alone the shining eyes he had betrayed. 

 

Sasuke... I destroyed everything. And now you're here. You're sleeping, unaware that your brother has our family's blood on his hands.

 

__ Your father is preparing for an important meeting with the Hokage and some clan elders, said Mikoto as she poured the tea. He won't be able to see you tonight; he'll be home late. But he left a note for you in his office. He wants to talk to you tomorrow.

 

"Okay," Itachi whispered.

 

He brought the cup to his lips, but his thoughts were far away. How was he going to face all this? What should he do? She invited him to sit at the coffee table. The tea had just been poured. Steam rose gently from the cups, and the sun's rays caressed their faces.

 

Itachi sat down silently. He watched his mother put down the teapot, then look at him intently.

 

"You're very quiet today," she said with a gentle smile. Her son had always been quiet, but he always engaged in conversation with her and let her talk on and on.

 

He simply nodded, forcing a smile. He didn't yet know how to act or what to say. She handed him his cup and sat down.

 

"So, what about that nightmare?"

 

Itachi looked up. His mother's gaze was waiting for him. He hesitated.

 

"No... just... a strange dream," he whispered. He was upset, he couldn't control himself anymore, and putting on his usual mask was hard.

 

"Oh? Tell me about it," she said, resting her chin on her palm, curious.

 

He remained silent for a moment, his fingers clenched around the warm cup.

 

How could he tell her? That he had seen the end. That he had seen his own crime. That he had seen his brother, alone, destroyed. That he had given his life to protect the shadow of this village and now he was being offered a new... life?

 

Why?

 

He lowered his eyes.

 

"I don't really remember," he lied. Just... a little, that's all.

 

"Hmm," she hummed, inviting him to continue, while drinking her tea. 

 

"It was a dream where... I was older. Much older. And I was living... another life... outside Konoha."

 

Mikoto raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

 

"Were you happy?"

 

Itachi looked at her. That face, those gentle eyes... He remembered all too well the last look she had given him. Just before he erased her.

 

"I don't know," he whispered. "It was strange. I was tired. I was doing things... I didn't want to do."

 

She seemed troubled by his answer, but gave him a tender smile.

 

"You're back in reality, my son. That's all that matters." 

 

Itachi nodded slowly. Yes. And maybe this time... Mikoto stood up, tidied the teapot, then looked at him one last time before leaving the room.

When you're done, go wake Sasuke up. And enjoy the day a little. You're allowed to, Itachi.

You're just a child, after all.

 

Mom, I'm sorry. 

 

Itachi thought before turning toward Sasuke's room. But instead of going in, he turned around, went back to his own room, opened the window, and ran away, without a sound.

 

🥀