“I don’t understand why adults lie. Why can’t we just tell the truth and move on? ” — Itachi Uchiha.
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Itachi rembered a lot of things – Fleeting or of great value – and it wasn’t just due to his Sharingan. From a young age he was fascinated by the simple things, or things people would call ‘simple’. It was a childish want that he never managed to outgrow and it was because of his easily fascinated mind that he tried to rember everything that ca across his eyes, with or without his Sharingan, he seared it into his wanting mind.
The mories – monts captured in ti past, never to be changed – were pictures that called to him on their own whims whenever his mind wandered. And pictures, he found, were more valuable when accompanied by words of the people he shared them with.
So it was no surprise — rather, a comfort — when his father’s words ca to him.
“To ask is a mont’s sha; not to ask is a lifeti’s sha.”
Of all his traits, his inquisitive mind was the one his father urged him most to nurture. “Never be ashad to seek knowledge,” his father had said. “Better a mont’s embarrassnt than a lifeti of ignorance.”
He would ask the simplest questions, “Why is dictating soone else's life important to how we live ours?” and his father would look at him for a brief mont, “I don’t have a true answer for you, Itachi. I could give you the first thing that ca to my mind but the fact that I find it lacking ans I don’t believe it true.”
They had stood atop a hill overlooking the village, facing directly the Hokage Rock — the mountain monunt of faces.
“Never stop asking these questions, Itachi. I might not have the answers — most might not, but never stop asking them. If we all stop to think, just for a mont, maybe we can find an answer that won’t feel like a lie.”
These monts, frozen in ti — pictures with words — were personal comforts in his seeming immortal life.
So he learned. He kept learning. If he was gifted in the questions he asked, then he would keep asking them. And he did. All for that mont — the one mont where they stopped; an instant where a simple question beca more important than whatever imdiate thing they were doing.
Sotis he asked himself these simple questions to see if he could give a true answer, and half the ti it would take days, weeks, months, even years, before he arrived at what his soul could barely accept as a true answer.
So, whenever his mind drew back upon these mories he would slow down in everything he was doing and would spend the next few days in silent introspection.
“In the storm of choices, silence is not always peace—it can be paralysis. Silence is better than ignorance, but truth is better than silence.” He rembered clearly the Third Hokage’s words to him in the beginning of the Uchiha Insurrection.
The words were deeply engraved in his mind, not only because it ca from the Third Hokage, but because it acknowledged his way of seeking out the truth. Truth in silence, sat atop beds of ignorance.
Silence was not the answer, but instead an avenue to seek out truth. Continued silence was willful ignorance, the showing of a conflicted mind.
Rarely was silence ever the answer to a question. And even when he remained quiet, Itachi hardly ever attained silence.
“The mind is a reflection of a beating heart. In your heart, you never want to be in a position where silence is the only answer you can give. Is it any surprise that your mind cannot remain truly silent?”
The epheral fog under the desolate moon — Tsukuyomi, the Moon’s Reflection — asked, his voice a faint sombre.
The fog that mirrored his body birthed crows that cried a sepulchral song.
Being a soul reflection of the questions in his heart, Tsukuyomi was a constant presence in Itachi’s every thought. The question of his fears, joys, future, ambitions, hope, uncertainty — Tsukuyomi was the embodint of all and so he made sure never to let Itachi wander these questions alone. He would ask, he would advise, he would prod, he would watch; all so to make sure Itachi found his answer.
Two heads, as they say, can choir a chorus.
“Not truly,” Itachi replied. “However, it makes clearer the number of questions I have no answers to.”
“It also makes clearer the path you’re on, be they good or bad. Stagnation forfeits inquiry. These questions also represent the branches of steps you’ve taken.”
“It’s been quite the walk.” Itachi remarked upon seeing Tsukuyomi’s facsimile illusion of a tree with springing branches.
“Has it?” It was a familiar habit of Tsukuyomi to question his words. It was a harmless way of making him reaffirm his answers to the mountainous crow.
“It has.” Itachi replied as the illusion disappeared. As always, Tsukuyomi’s illusions never failed to impress Itachi. Reality and illusion were re suggestions Tsukuyomi sotis took to show how true his expressions were.
Even with Itachi’s prodigious prowess with illusions, he still fell a few steps behind Tsukuyomi. He had only ever wielded the full magnitude of Tsukuyomi’s illusory might on one occasion and that was in his full Bankai Release, when he used Takamimushi — Tsukuyomi’s Right to Create — in his final confrontation with Aizen.
“And the newest question you don’t know how to ask?”
He fell silent. The question was a mightily important one, and one he had the answer to; except he remained unsure of how to speak it. The answer opened up a vulnerability — one he did not mind having, and even wholeheartedly desired.
That was how important the answer was. Except speaking it in a way that showed the magnitude of what it ant to him still eluded him.
All it showed was that regardless of strength and title, Itachi Uchiha remained a simple man at heart.
“Rember, continued silence is willful ignorance. Remaining quiet for so long will sour the truth of your answer.” Tsukuyomi delivered.
“Dear one, you’ve danced over this rope for years now. Any longer and you’d sooner incinerate it than pull it in.”
Queen of the Desolate Black and caretaker of this illusory ruin — Amaterasu, a visage of pitch-black billowing flas, wearing what had the form of regal robes and hair ornants — appeared with a step between Itachi and Tsukuyomi.
Like a fla dancing in the wind, she flickered to his side with one hand on the side of his face.
Although she could make her form more clearer and solid, she did not do so and preferred to look like this — fla-like and vague.
Her flas danced and licked his skin as she held his face. He could not make out any expression on her face, as there were none, but he knew she was looking at him with disapproval.
“I won’t pester you with mirror questions. What I will tell you is that this is an answer you must give. Deny this desire and a thousand apologies I will not accept.”
Her voice lacked any of the echoes her counterpart did. Tsukuyomi glided through his words and spoke them as if they were weaved from threads of smoke. Amaterasu spoke hers with a haughtiness that knew it couldn’t be ignored or understated. They burned with finality into the souls of those who heard them.
Her words, when spoken seriously, were things Itachi could hardly ignore, and he didn’t have the courage to dare and weather her anger.
“I understand. I was always going to speak it.” He reassured her but the hands that gripped his face didn’t soften as she held him to her face.
“You understand, but not fully.” She tilted her head, the slight movent a regal gesture, to stare up at Tsukuyomi. “Most desires are deliberated in silence for the truth in them. These you do not deliberate. You plunge in, crash and burn in it. Throw caution to the wind and watch where it takes you. Do this… at least just this once.”
She spoke to both of them and they both listened. Her avarice for Itachi’s passions and desires was endless and she would permit neither of them to taint it with orderliness and understanding. She preferred it raw.
This was one of the few things in a person’s life that their fulfilnt from it depended wholly on another person.
And these two were about to put an illusion of protection and structure around it. Crash and burn — that was the best way to enjoy it.
Itachi looked at Amaterasu, knowing fully well that she just dictated his decision, and he just silently accepted it.
The flas on her face flickered to express a smile upon seeing Itachi’s wordless acceptance. She was proud of his mature choice.
“Excellent, dear one. Keep the silence to a minimum.” She patted his cheeks and the flas lingered even as she stepped away.
Amaterasu’s way of showing her emotions were still things Itachi was yet to completely understand but he accepted it as it was. Not everything needed to be understood.
Her care and affection were grey and consuming, uncaring for its recipient as it pushed itself into them and devoured them whole until only the undying flas remained.
Amaterasu was the personification of a part of him that he never knew of. His mory of his only act of love during his life was sothing that all would shun if they heard of it.
So what did that say about how he showed affection?
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