Disclaimer:I do not own Naruto. Or any associated characters, places or plotlines. I'm just using the original genius to have some fun.

Warning: OC and serious screw up of original canon/timeline. NonCanon. Tiny Itachi. Actually emotional Fugaku. The overused cliché of soulsearching/rebirth with a twist! So if you're oversensitive for previous lives affecting the present, well, perhaps its not a fic worth your time. Implied suicide.

Summary: She was not supposed to wake up. She had made sure of it. But when she did, it was to a living skin she never imagined herself wearing. Death never scared her, but facing that which she once lost might just be even more frightening. Could she stop history from repeating itself? She already lost one, she didn't think she could lose another.

.oOo.

Chapter 1

.oOo.

She felt short of breath, as if there wasn't enough air in the room to breathe. But it was ridiculous, especially as her eyes caught sight of a high ceiling, bounds and bounds of free space between her and the white painted expance of wood. Fingers clutched the sweaty fabric across her chest, feeling the up and down motions as it expanded, sucking in air with a force that could not be normal.

It was a ripple. Starting in her chest and spreading, reaching down her back to finally churn outwards, deep into her stomach. Lika wave, growing in strength before it abated.

Pain.

"Mikoto?"

She gasped and wrapped her arms around her middle. Somehow, she had seated herself. But she barely registered the change in elevation. All she could focus on was the pain her stomach that just barely overrode the intense pain in her head. A deep, thought-impairing pulsation that made her think her scull was about to explode any minute.

Cool hands brushed her skin and a deep base brushed her ears. "Mikoto? Is it the baby?"

The baby?

She opened her eyes slightly, still squinting against the pain. A face hovered beside her, but she didn't pay it any attention as her eyes were immediately drawn to the great bulge of her stomach. The flesh hard and uncomfortably painful the way it strained against the confines of her body.

She breathed harshly through her clenched teeth. Suddenly even more upset by this new discovery. She could hardly believe it. It was too unreal.

There was motion around her and the faint sound of wood scraping before a murmur of voices reached her ears. A sharp order, a light being lit in the soft darkness and a pair of small feet scuttering across springy flooring.

"Kaa-san?"

A great sigh rumbled from beside her and the mattress shifted. "Itachi, now is not the time."

But small hands still latched unto her arm, pulling at it and causing her gaze to shift from the incredulous sight of her expanded girth to a pale face framed by onyx tresses and a pair of impossibly large, obsidian eyes.

"Kaa-san? Is the baby coming?" His eyes grew even larger as the question gave life to numerous others. "Is that why it hurts? Why is the baby hurting you?"

"Itachi," the same exasperated voice scolded. Tugging the child free from her arm as he went about the room. His arms carried various items, many of what she through her pain filled haze couldn't fathom why he bothered bringing at all. "Here, Mikoto."

She stiffened beneath his touch as he dragged a wet rag along her face and neck. It was cool. Pleasant. But his foreign hands on her felt wrong. Even more so when it felt like her stomach was on the verge of bursting. She hunched over further, causing the man to tsk loudly.

"Itachi. Go look what's taking old aunt Izue so long."

The boy, who could not be more than five gave a frightened nod before leaving in a rush of steps, all of which echoed long after he left the house. It left her on edge, for now she was alone with the man. A fact that didn't sit well with her at all.

It was disconcerting.

Fugaku tried not to frown at his wife's odd behaviour. He had awoken to find Mikoto bent over in bed. Her face pale as a sheet even as she was drenched in sweat. At first, he thought it another of his wife's nightmares. The woman had had one every now and then ever since her pregnancy started. A weird complication the midwife had assured them was a common occurance. They had lessened in frequency now that the end was nearing. But somehow, he doubted they would stop all together.

This time, however, did not seem to be the aftermath of another bad dream. She was too shaken for it to be one, and her pained featuers only ascertained him off it further. It worried him. She still had more than a month left until the estimated time of birth, but apparently her body had decided it was time to give birth now. Not in five weeks.

He brushed sweaty strands from her face and away from her neck. "Perhaps, you should lie down? Save your strength for the birthing?"

His eyes only became more concerned once she jerked out his reach. Her form trembling but not a sound escaping her pale lips, crushed together as if to keep down a scream. Was this how it was supposed to be? Her last time with Itachi had not been nearly as painful, nor was she so obviously affected by it. Something bubbled deep in his gut and he started instead to rub strong strokes up and down her back, trying to ease the tense muscles there. Something he knew from last time Mikoto appreciated as it distracted her from the pain.

It was not long before another spasm hit her and Fugaku found himself unconsciously counting the minutes between them. One. Two. Three.. It was happening too fast, far faster than her last birth. He knew that first time mothers usually had slower births because the birthcanal was untried. But surely, a second child would not progress as fast as this?

A low keening noise filled the air that set the hairs of his neck on end. Her breaths turned laboured, almost panicked.

Then he felt a warm wetness soaking through the fabric of his sleeping attire and looked down, horror growing on his face as a shallow puddle stretched out on the white linen.

Blood.

Itachi did not bother hiding his terrified state as he listened to the screaming. His mother, the normally gentle Mistress of the Clan was screaming, a heavy mixture of pain and fear. Something he never thought he'd hear from her lips.

He felt nauseous. He wished he could make it stop. And not for the first time that night Itachi wished he never asked for another sibling. This was all his fault and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to forgive himself if she didn't make it through this.

The adults thought he didn't know. They thought their whispered conversations and worried looks went unnoticed. But Itachi was not so easily fooled. He was already five. There was little that passed his curious eyes unnoticed. His academy teacher said it was a good trait for a ninja. But Itachi believed it was an even better trait for a child living amongst adults. Many of whom thought they knew better and made a habit of hiding things from those they thought were too young to understand.

Itachi never appreciated it. Being treated like an ignorant child. So far, his mother was the only one to treat him according to his age openly. All others simply praised him for being so skilled at his young age. Bragged that he was such a good, budding shinobi that would make the clan proud. For was that not to be expected of the heir to the Clan? At least, that was what his father continued to tell him. That he had to be the example. The image of what the Clan could be.

His father's harsh teachings were tough and often left him feeling inadequate. Most times his best simply wasn't good enough no matter how hard he tried. So he trained. And trained. For hours and hours he conditioned his body to act, live and breathe like a shinobi. Smothering the aches, the constant fear and growing paranoia that continued to stake its claim on him. He controlled himself and drove himself forward to become the perfect manifestation of a shinobi. One like the ones from the olden days, when his clan was still revered for their strength. Their will and power to succeed. It pleased the elders and never failed to gain his father's approval. But at times, he missed the unconditional acceptance many of his friends received. The sense of family, of belonging.

That was when Itachi started to hope he could gain a companion. Someone to share in on his fate. Another who could understand how hard it was to be someone other than oneself.

Someone, who could love Itachi for simply being Itachi. Not the perfect puppet made to further their own gain. But the child that was forced to become an adult far too quickly.

Unconditionally.

Loved.

Another scream, high and ringing in the air. The rushed words of the women inside the bedroom: 'Where is the medical nin? Hold on, Mistress! Fugaku-sama will be back soon.'

"Please-!" His mother's voice echoed against the walls, tired and almost delusional in quality as she panted for breath. "..Please.. Take it out-!"

Itachi closed his eyes, his small hands curling into fists. "Tou-san.. Please hurry..."

Forgive me, Kaa-san.

"Ahh-!"

His heart ached, his stomach curling threateningly even as his knuckles turned white. Teeth clenched tight.

I was selfish.

The door slammed open. "Where is she!?"

A woman bearing hair of the darkest red burst through the doorway, her hand dragging a clearly half-asleep woman in by the hand. Her clothes were rumpled, but even so Itachi could recognize the pale green uniform of Konoha Hospital.

A medic nin.

His father's tall form entered behind them. His face drawn, worried as he quickly rounded them. Nearly hoisting the captive medic in with him he hurried down the hall towards the bedroom. "This way! Hurry!"

The medic looked bewildered, but followed none the less. Leavning the still huffing redhead behind. "I can't believe it! Rushing like this.. Couldn't manange another month, could you Mikoto?" The redhead tsked, before her own hands went to the small of her back, arching it a bit which made her own growing stomach look even bigger. It was not nearly as big as his mother's but rather a clear bump visible beneath the loose sleeping shirt she wore over her pants.

Itachi immediately noticed how the other clan members present stiffened around the woman. But Itachi couldn't really care less. This woman had brought help and if his father's frazzled appearance was anything to go by it was badly needed.

The woman seemed to notice his stare after a moment as her head turned his way. Her blue eyes sized him up in the dark, clearly confused about why a child was awake and sitting in the dimly lit hall. "Oh, you must be Itachi-chan, ne?

Itachi flinched at the adress, but the woman didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps she simply ignored it? Her smile widened somewhat as she approached, crouching down before him. "Are you nervous? It's okay to be nervous, you know?" She winced as another low cry echoed down the hall. "Giving birth in no simple thing. It's much like a battle, only it's between yourself and your body, but with a much sweeter victory in the end."

Itachi blinked owlishly at her. Unsure of how to respond as he stared fixed at her, taking in the pearly white row of teeth she used to try and make him feel better. But when he didn't reply to her words the redhead sighed, her thumb coming to brush against his eyebrow. It made him close his eyes and for the first time he noticed the deep, itching sensation in his eyes. He rubbed at them, and it took a few blinks until the sensation faded fully. But when it did, the woman's face softened further once a strange feeling of success rushed through him.

"Don't rush it." She held out a hand to him. "Name's Kushina by the way. We actually met a few years ago, but you wouldn't remember. You were little more than a toddler at the time, after all. What's your name?"

He felt a bit indignant at the tone used, but chose to ignore it in favor of getting the strange woman out of his face. "Itachi."

Why the woman asked for his name when it was clear she already knew who he was remained a mystery. Perhaps a gesture to make him feel more comfortable around her, to make it seem they were on equal ground with each other? His dark obsidian eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't get the chance to point out the obvious flaw in her plan.

"Great." She stood, stretching her legs and once again rubbing her back. "How does it feel? You're about to be a big brother! Isn't it exciting?"

Itachi spared a glance down the hall. The area had become ominously silent compared how loud everything was just a moment before. He hesitated, fingers worrying the short sleeping yukata he was wrapped up in. He felt naked. Even more so without his wooden kunai and shuriken on his person. They were little help if he was to be truly attacked. But it was comforting to have that small assurance, especially when most opponents were much, much taller than himself.

"I guess."

Kushina's brows rose and it became clear she was keeping her laughter down.

How cute.

She brushed her hair out of her face. It was mere chance that she sensed Fugaku's erratic chakra pass by her apartment earlier that night. Being as restless as she was, she had a hard time sleeping when Minato was out on missions. She blamed the baby, who had a habit of kicking her in the ribs when she least expected it. But this time she was glad for her periodic bouts of insomnia. Still, if Minato found out she went searching the village in the dead of night he might actually scold her for reckless behavior. Not that she would blame him.

When she finally found the disturbed Uchiha on his way to the village hospital she knew something was up.

They may not have been friends, and Fugaku always was a particularly efficient dampener to the friendship between Mikoto and her, but Kushina would never be as heartless as not to notice when a fellow shinobi was in need of assistance.

It had taken them thirty minutes to track down an available medic nin. Many of whom were already busy dealing with one of the many operations scheduled that night. Fugaku was a man of few words and, to make it worse, proud. But when the famed head of the Uchiha clan dissolved into a – by Uchiha standards, anyway – worried mess in front of the shocked medic, Kushina knew something serious was about.

Mikoto was her friend and team-mate before her jounin promotion and the years of Mikoto's marriage that dragged them apart. But it was no mere fluke that the expecting mothers met earlier that spring. Both equally surprised to hear that the other was pregnant.

Kushina, always one for the dramatics, decided it must be fate.

Now, knowing that her old friend was in danger made her stomach twist. It had taken more than a little Uzumaki determination before they finally managed to rope a medic nin into following them to the compound.

Usually, the Uchiha used their own healers. They had more than enough of them among the civilian population of the clan and the midwife that helped Mikoto through her last birth was top notch, skilled enough to manage any situation outside the Hospital.

Kushina pressed her lips firmly into a line.

Little did anyone know the Uchiha rarely bothered taking help from the village resources simply because of the discriminative treatment of the clan. Their innate pride be damned! Kushina was convinced that the strained atmosphere between the clan and the village was to blame for the Uchiha's further isolation of themselves. There was no doubt in her mind that the Uchiha were being ignored politically, but it had taken quite a while until the overall discontent started to spread into other parts of the village proper as well. And the Uchiha had only stood by and allowed it to happen.

Not that their stubborn and stuck-up natures made it any easier to absolve any growing malcontent between the village factions. They were simply asking for trouble, what with how set they were on managing everything by themselves. Typical Uchiha.

A high-pitched cry made Kushina and Itachi's heads swerve towards its origin. But even as Itachi's face paled further, joy started on the redhead's surprised countanace.

Itachi, for one, didn't know what to do with the information. He knew that the cries were not his mother's. They were far too high to be so. But the sudden lack of his mother's chakra, something he had just this year started to learn sensing, made him tense.

Everything grew eerily quiet and now only the howling of a child filled the air.

It must have been a second, perhaps minutes, before the door was slid open. His father's tall form slipped out, walking steadily down the hall to slump dead tired onto one of the seating pillows in the main room.

Itachi felt the impressions of the tatami mats on the bare soles of his feet for a split second before he stood before his father. Eyes tinged with disbelief as he stared down at this father's arms. There was a fabric smelling faintly of blood and inside it was something Itachi thought he'd never see.

It was pink with red and brown splotches of residue in some places, a small tuft of dark hair on its head. The face was round, pinched and had a tiny little nose. Like a miniature version of himself, only with more strong features leaning towards his mother's likeness.

His father raised tired eyes at him, stiffening for a moment as if sensing something before he relaxed, one hand reaching out to ruffle through Itachi's dark hair.

"What? Are you not going to greet him, Itachi?"

His father's deep voice echoed inside him for a moment before he realized what had been said. His obsidian eyes widened, tracing the figure as the little bundle squirmed. Appropriately, a tiny hand fled the protective wrapping and Itachi did not hesitate to slip his finger into it. The grip was strong, as if it never wished to let go. It made something warm grow inside him.

"Hello, little brother."

#To be continued...