Dark, it was so dark.

There didn't seem to be a speck of light. At least, not in Itachi's eyes. There was not a single sound around him. At least, none that he could hear. He felt as if there were a hollow space where his lungs were supposed to be. He was breathing, but he didn't feel like he was.

They're going to do it. They're already starting the coup d'etat. At this point, Itachi had only one job left to do. He ignored the gentle whispers within him.

His feet paced around the room, making quiet creaking noises on the wooden floor. His walk seemed to be endless. His heart was beating- or was it? He couldn't really tell anymore. His pace fastened and he finally stopped in front of the wall, slamming a fist onto the wooden planks.

All he could hear were screams. From who? He didn't know. He didn't have to know. All he had to do was-

He ran his palms along his face, unwavering as his skin met the corner of his eye. The cold sweat that he was coated in seemed to suffocate him. Breathlessly, he drew the blade he now held within his hands, staring soullessly at the metal.

All he had to do was just to kill them all.

With a tilt of his wrist, he saw his own eyes through the reflection on the blade. Those black orbs. The exact same ones he'd have to see as he let blood run through his hands. There was crimson flowing from the tip of his blade, and he didn't question whose it was. Bloodied fingers crept out from the scabbard of his katana, and his eyes widened. They curled around his neck- He couldn't breath, there were shrieks ringing into his ears, crying, screaming-

ITACHI.

The blade fell to the floor in a clattering mess as Itachi's hands shook. His breath was unsteady, and his heart racing out of his chest. As he wiped away the cold sweat that dripped down his forehead, he lay on the floor with closed eyes.

Calm down. Calm down, Itachi.

He gave himself a moment, allowing his breath to even out slowly. As he exhaled steadily, his eyelids fluttered open to stare at the ceiling. He sat up, throwing a glance to the unsheathed katana on the floor. Sighing, he picked it up and sheathed it before storing it in his cabinet with a click.

He was a mess, wasn't he?

It'd be alright. He didn't have to think about it so much for now, the decision wasn't his to make, was it? It would be fine, he'd just have to ask Lord Third. He doesn't have to decide. If he has to do the deed, he will. He's a shinobi of Konoha, after all.

He ran his fingers through his hair, picking up a rubber band as he began to tie it up. He should go outside to calm himself down. Any more time in his room, and he wasn't sure what kind of things his brain would make him see. Closing his room door as he walked out, Mikoto was the first to greet him.

"Itachi. How are you?"

Itachi glanced up at Mikoto. She had the same old smile on her face, the same one she bore before he had even become a shinobi. It was eerie how she could smile at him that way even when they both knew they were on opposite sides of this internal war. It was all just a ploy to get him to join their coup d'etat. It won't work.

"I am well," Itachi answered promptly, passing by Mikoto without sparing her another glance. There was no need for this compassion. All of this would be meaningless when it comes down to that day. Surprisingly, Mikoto called out to him again.

"Itachi?"

He stopped in his steps, turning around to face her with a blank stare in his eyes. "Yes, mom?"

"Would you please pick Sasuke up from the academy if you're free? I'll make lunch today," Mikoto requested. It wasn't like he had a choice to refuse. He was Itachi Uchiha, the perfect heir of the Uchiha clan and one of Konoha's elite ANBU.

"Yes, mom."

With a bow, he exited the house, ignoring gazes from other Uchiha clan members. Picking up Sasuke...it would do him good. Seeing Sasuke would probably make him think more rationally, especially considering how he hadn't seen him at all since Danzo was captured.

He made his way to the academy, eyes wandering around the crowd of children. He could spot Naruto in a corner, but it wasn't his business to dwell in. He didn't have to be involved in anything anymore- He was just here to pick Sasuke up. That's all there is.

His eyes finally landed on his brother, and Sasuke seemed to spot him at the same time too. The boy's eyes brightened in joy, immediately running towards Itachi and hugging tightly onto his waist. Itachi mustered up a smile, something he was sure he hadn't done for days. He ruffled Sasuke's hair as the boy pouted up at him. "Itachi nii-san! Where were you?? You didn't say a single thing before you left."

"Forgive me, Sasuke," Itachi chuckled quietly with no elaboration as always. Sasuke whined at the usual lack of explanation, letting go of Itachi. He crossed his arms with a huff, only to receive the familiar forehead flick from his brother. "Shall we go to the dango stall, then? Take it as an apology."

Sasuke's eyes immediately lit up, and Itachi's crime of zero-explanation disappearance was forgiven in mere seconds. To be honest, Sasuke didn't really like dango, but his brother seemed to love it. And if Itachi thinks it's good, you bet Sasuke will love it as well.

Itachi smiled at his brother warmly. For now, this was all he needed. Forget everything around, and to just carve this moment into his mind. Just as he was about to leave, he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"Itachi-kun?"

He turned around, sight landing on the man before him. Of course, there stood Minato Namikaze with his smile. Or should he say.... Mizuki.

Minato had been consistently reaching the academy at record early hours throughout these few days just to meet Itachi. It did help a lot with bonding with Naruto and his friends, but there still didn't seem to be results. Just as Minato was about to deem his efforts ineffective and useless, lo and behold, there Itachi was!

It would've been hard to notice the teenager if it weren't for Sasuke running all the way to the gates instead of walking slowly with a depressed mood. After all, there was only one person who could make Sasuke yell out loud in joy like that. Who else other than his beloved brother, Itachi?

So as soon as Naruto hopped into his arms, he turned to see Itachi about to leave, and called out to him. He was curious to see how Itachi had been. After all, he hadn't seen Itachi since they escorted him to the medics and Shisui to T&I. The critical overthinking Minato has done at night told him that Itachi was in an awful place mentally and emotionally. But if Sasuke was so cheerful, maybe he was wrong.

He was right.

When Itachi turned around, it'd take a legally blind person to not immediately notice the darkened spots beneath his eyes. Somehow his stress line seems to have lengthened, perhaps stretching all the way outside the boundaries of his face. The second sentence Minato could muster after calling out to him, was-

"Are you okay??"

Itachi didn't seem to react much, and Minato thought to himself that, yeah, he probably should've toned it down a bit. But seriously, the difference between this Itachi and the Itachi from days ago was ridiculously big. He looked as if he hadn't slept in months. It'd take Minato a whole Oscar award to not hold back from asking Itachi about his condition. Clearly, that boy was not okay.

Itachi seemed to be a little curious for a bit if he really looked that awful, but hesitantly responded with a 'yes'. Of course, that convinced absolutely no one. Minato cracked an awkward smile, shaking his head. "Wanna head to the dango stall?"

Itachi looked over to Sasuke, staring at his brother for a while in contemplation before humbly accepting the offer. He had already told Sasuke they'd go to the dango stall, no use going back against it now. Itachi let his mind wander towards his bedroom, longing for the silence that would yet again drag himself into another mess. This was too much distraction. He had things to do, things that he would rather think about without the interruption of his own emotions.

But as they walked together to the dango stall, he silently wondered if he was longing for his salvation.