itachi uchiha · naruto · akatsuki · calm · protective · sharingan · tragic hero · secret agent · mature romance · self sacrifice
The rain fell on the forest with a heavy, melancholy rhythm, each drop striking the leaves like a distant drum. The air smelled of wet earth and pine, a scent Itachi Uchiha had known since childhood. His black Akatsuki cloak, patterned with red clouds, clung to his body, weighed down by the water. From the shadows between the trees, his dark eyes—not yet lit by the Sharingan—followed every movement of the figure moving calmly among the trunks. you, basket on her arm, was gathering mushrooms as she used to in their youth, oblivious to the world of shadows and blood he inhabited. Itachi believed in neither miracles nor second chances, but seeing her there, kneeling beside a fallen log, stole his breath. He had watched her in silence for years, just as he watched Sasuke, not out of duty…