The Forgotten Tale Of Shisui Uchiha

Itachi sat quietly beneath the sun, a rare sight for this corner of the world during this particular season. The warmth enveloped him, offering a moment of respite as he soaked in the golden rays as if trying to absorb every bit of light. His mind, however, was a turbulent sea of questions and thoughts that he preferred to keep at bay. He often pondered the bizarre intricacies of existence—the strange ways people lived, the reasons behind their choices, and the inevitable reality of death. Why did some fight desperately for life while others let it slip away? Such questions haunted him constantly, and he found it easier to push them aside, if only for a moment.

As memories of his brother, Sasuke, flickered through his mind, an undeniable sense of finality washed over him. Shisui had returned, and Sasuke was growing stronger. Itachi sensed that his journey was nearing its conclusion; his purpose was drawing to a close. However, he felt a sliver of reassurance knowing that Shisui was there. He trusted his dear friend implicitly, confident that he would guide Sasuke along the right path, no matter the struggles ahead.

Just then, a familiar voice broke through his reverie. "It's nice weather, isn't it?" she said, gracefully settling across from him. Itachi wasn't surprised by her presence; he had always understood that if she desired to find someone, she could do so effortlessly. After all, a part of her blood flowed through him.

"It seems so," he replied. Surprisingly, her presence brought him a sense of ease, akin to a gentle breeze that soothed his restless mind.

She glanced at him, her eyes filled with unspoken thoughts. A hint of sadness colored her features as she confessed, "He left me." Itachi met her gaze, revealing no signs of shock.

"Isn't it for the best?" he asked.

"I knew you would say that," she replied, a playful yet wistful tone lacing her voice. "After all, wasn't it you who inspired him to follow his shinobi heart?" She twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. Itachi fell silent, his thoughts drifting back to the warmth of the sun above him. He chose not to comment further. The comforting rays of the sun continued to shine, and he kept his focus on its gentle glow, appreciating the fleeting serenity of the afternoon without acknowledging her presence further.

"You are so frustrating," she added. "You have always been so frustrating since you were just five years old."

"Uh, huh? I don't remember ever talking to you at that age, though," he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You didn't need to," she retorted, her anger palpable. "You were just looking at me."

"Was I?" he asked.

"Yes! It was annoying," she insisted, the frustration bubbling over in her tone. "It felt as if my soul was naked before you. This is how I've always felt."

"I've never noticed you felt that way, though," he said softly while gazing into her eyes. At that moment, she felt a wave of intimidation wash over her, prompting her to lower her gaze, unable to withstand the intensity of his stare.

"You are doing it again," she said, rising abruptly from her seat, her cheeks flushed and her heart racing. "Why are you like this? Why are you letting yourself die?"

"Who said I was going to die?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"I can feel it!" she shouted, her voice rising in desperation. "This is why I tried to help you back then. You're killing yourself for what reason?"

"I think you're talking nonsense. This doesn't concern you," he replied.

"I don't want you to die!" she screamed, a wave of anguish washing over her. He remained quiet, lost in thought, while she felt a deep, aching frustration.

"I think you should go back, Ayumi. Either return to Konoha or find your true place in the world," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "I still don't understand why you are distancing yourself from life, but it's time you stop inflicting this pain upon yourself."

"Then why are you doing the same?" she shot back, her voice rising in anger. The frustration coursing through her veins felt almost suffocating. At that moment, she realized that her disdain for him ran deeper than the bitterness she held for Shisui. At least Shisui had a shred of sense, a flicker of understanding. But this man? He seemed entirely oblivious to the very essence of self-worth. The urge to slap some sense to him, to shake him into reality, surged within her. Why did he have to bear the weight of such suffering? 

The agony of losing beloved ones, the sting of hatred, the crushing loneliness—upon his shoulders rested the burden of sacrifice as if he were merely a pawn in a game where his value was rendered insignificant. Shisui's sacrifice had been a tragic, final cry of desperation, whereas this man's slow self-destruction felt like a drawn-out torment—each moment a painful reminder of his suffering.

Ayumi had grown up alongside him; their lives were interwoven by unspoken bonds. It was true—they had never shared many words, yet their presence alone seemed to speak volumes. While he and Shisui trained with unwavering dedication, she busied herself with painting vivid portraits of their fierce spirits or bringing them homemade meals, her heart swelling with belonging. She was always there, whether lost in the melody of her music or simply absorbing the warmth of their companionship.

Her love for Shisui was palpable, blossoming from the heart of a woman towards a man, filled with passion and longing. But The emotions she experienced for this man were different—they transcended romantic love, rooted instead in a profound connection between kindred souls. It was a platonic bond that felt almost sacred. She sensed that he understood her innermost being, more deeply than anyone else, even more than her husband did. She recognized that she mirrored this understanding back to him. That's why she had consistently sent him medicine over the years, a lifeline to ease his suffering, aware of how he battled illness. Yet, alarmingly, he had stopped taking it recently.

"Then you should understand that this is what I have decided for myself, and you should try to stop meddling with it," he said. ''Stop it!'' Her voice trembled with barely contained rage, her delicate features twisted with emotion. At first glance, she appeared serene and composed, but beneath that calm exterior lurked a tempest of intense feelings. He watched her, a soft smile playing on his lips; he had always been captivated by her complexities. She was an enigma, a fragile glass flower that shimmered with beauty yet was so easily shattered. It was a sight that filled him with admiration and curiosity, leaving him to ponder the depths of what lay within her heart.

He stepped closer, brushing against her aura of simmering emotions, and pressed his lips against hers, mirroring the tender kiss she had given him years ago. She froze, her mind racing and her thoughts spiraling in confusion as the warmth of his kiss enveloped her. Then, he whispered, "Thank you and goodbye." Those simple words sent a wave of bewildered despair crashing over her, and soon, she felt herself slipping into the comforting embrace of darkness, surrendering to unconsciousness.

When she finally surfaced from the depths of her slumber, the familiar surroundings of her room greeted her. She blinked away the remnants of sleep as she turned her head to find her son peacefully asleep beside her. The sight of him tugged at her heart, but her gaze fell upon the glistening trails of dried tears on his face. 

"Rin?" she murmured, delicately brushing her fingertips against his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and pure relief beamed across his features. "You are awake, Mum!" he exclaimed, his voice breaking as he scrambled closer. "Oh my god, I was so scared you wouldn't wake up!"

Confusion washed over her as she processed his words. "Why? What's wrong, dear?" 

"A strange man brought you home," he said. "He was very mysterious, he looked like a Leaf ninja. He had black hair and a pale, angular face, and he had the Sharingan. I think he wore the Akatsuki's black cloak with those red clouds and a high collar." His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, remembering the encounter. "He seemed kind of sad, and he told me to take good care of you."

The mention of him sent a chill down her spine—the realization sinking in. "Did he? That snake..." she muttered, the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "How long has it been since he brought me home? Maybe he isn't too far away; I should thank him, you know?" she added softly, trying to conceal her turmoil from her son.

"It has been five weeks, Mum." Rin's voice was laced with concern. "You've been in a coma for five weeks since that day."

Her heart dropped at his words, their meaning crashing down on her. Five weeks under the sway of his genjutsu, and the crushing realization that being free of it now meant he was likely gone forever seeped into her thoughts. A swell of tears filled her eyes as the harsh truth struck her—he was already dead, and she would never see him again. 

"Can you go outside for a bit, dear?" she asked her voice barely a whisper.

Rin nodded obediently. Once she heard the door click shut behind him, she surrendered to her emotions. The dam within her broke, and she wept openly, her body shaking as she touched her lips, remembering that final kiss. It was their final goodbye.