CHAPTER 34

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

The fact that I had somehow successfully managed to infiltrate through Itachi's Tsukiyomi -preposterous as it may sound- acted as a crack in the years old amaranthine glacier. Itachi's inhibitions now seemed lowered and his usual iron-clad control over his more mercurial temptations had definitely slipped a little. Not that I was complaining. I was more than appeased to revel in his lavish attentions. Nevertheless, it was not easy to forget the fact that he had very recently tried to obliterate all my memories of him.

But sometimes, I would catch him staring at me with intensity enough to incinerate all the forests in the land of fire. We didn't talk as much as we used to and there was always a third party present. Even so, I had this unequivocal feeling that an earthquake was brewing deep under surface of earth only for me, ready to swallow me whole in its caverns. It made my stomach flutter as if it were a liar of moths, all responding to irresistible fire that was Itachi. The worst was the fact that he knew, oh how well he knew that I did not have it in me to deny him anything, even when all the cells in my body were screeching in anger at him. This did nothing to quell the sense of insecurity I was feeling these days. Where was my integrity? My pride and honor? He had been willing- no eager- to remove all my memories of him against my will, and I should forgive him, just like that?

So, I was infinitely grateful when distraction came in form of a mission to Yumegakure, the village hidden in the dreams, regarding the dream-raiders. Dream-raiders happened to be proficient group of Genjutsu-casters who seemed to have ensnared all the village of Yumegakure into one colossal web of Genjutsu so powerful almost no one had been able to dispel it as of yet. Civilians and tourists, both would find themselves buying and wasting money on items that would turn to rocks in their homes. Some had false memories implanted into their minds so that they would turn against their own loved ones. The economy of the village was in ruins. Everything had been rendered upside down.

Left with no other option, Lord Haruma of Yumegakure had requested the expertise of Itachi Uchiha's Sharingan, the deadliest among the deadly. And in return, the Yumegakure had agreed to let Akatsuki form strongholds in their village so long as we set their village back to normal. I was selected as Itachi's companion for the mission due to my affinity to sense and counter Genjutsu which was, needless to say, a bit flattering considering the fact that Genjutsu had always been my weakness.

That night, while I was preparing for the mission, Itachi slinked into my room like a sliver of moonlight, soundless and fluid as ink in water. "Itachi!" I placed a hand over my chest. "You scared me! When did concealing your chakra become the new normal?"

But of course I knew the reason why he had concealed his chakra; it was most prudent not to let other Akatsuki members know how attached he was to me. From the corner of my eyes, I observed him as he leaned against the wall beside the window, patiently waiting for me to be done fiddling with my ninja gear and sealing scrolls. As always, his profile never ceased to mesmerize me- his inhuman, dark beauty like that of frozen lakes in the valleys with a shock of scarlet, luminous eyes. A world of monsters and angels. How ethereal it was, to be associated with him, how terrifying and tragic and beautiful- yet I wouldn't trade it for anything else.

In the start, I was simultaneously both relieved and disappointed to find out that he was here only to discuss the strategies to deal with the Genjutsu while on mission. He was succinct and curt with his words as was his style, but it stung me a little. I could tell that he was frustrated with me too, for some unfathomable reasons. By the time we were done with our discussion, the burgeoning tension between us had swollen to the point that it was hard for me to breathe.

"Itachi," I spoke first. "Did you really want me to forget you?"

He just sat there with his arm looped around his knee, appraising me almost bemusedly.

"You exist in me the way you don't exist anywhere else," I went on, "Nobody knows the truth about you, except for me. Yet, you were ready to just uproot it all and throw it away? Don't you like yourself a little more because of me?"

"On the contrary, Furkuro," he said, with chilling undercurrent, "you make me hate myself much more than I ever did."

"Well," I said stiffly. "It seems that I have failed miserably- No surprises there. I always fail when it comes to you."

"But what you said was true."

One moment he was sitting on the tatami mat on the other side of the room and the next, he was right beside me, just a tremor of eyelash away. My breath hitched with our sudden proximity as I felt pads of his fingers under the sensitive flesh of my chin, angling my face up so he could look deep into the chasms of my entity through my unguarded eyes.

"I exist in you in the way I don't exist anywhere else." His breath fluttered across my lips, like wings of butterfly. "I want to exist in you… more and more. No matter how much I hate it-this- I can't deny myself any longer."

"Ita-"

His feverish lips swallowed my words, like a pebble in the river and his arms slid around me, drawing me against his sculpted chest, caging my quavering form that could barely contain my thundering heart. My hands caressed his shoulders, his neck as I kissed him back, answering to his ardor. I had never had high tolerance for physical intimacy but Itachi's, only Itachi's touch held this hypnotizing power over me. His lips and tongue, probing and teasing, relentlessly moulding with mine had enough heat to set every cell in my body on fire. I appreciated the fact that he was more direct than ever, without a shred of hesitation.

His lips, eager to explore, now began their implacable journey down my jaw, across the soft, vulnerable skin of my neck-it made my whole body purr. He whispered my name across my ears, punctuating the words with his tongue against the folds of my shell. His hands mirrored the movements of his lips, caressing my spine, raising goosebumps in their wake and then his fingers came to rest on the knot in my obi, the only thing holding up my flimsy lawn yukata. For a moment that seemed to warp into infinity, he waited, most probably for the consent and I could hear all the sirens of warning go wild in my mind.

No. No. No.

But I was unable to utter even a word and was reduced to a helpless mewl as his hand, slowly, inexorably pulled until the knot was completely unraveled. He was looking into my eyes now, through strands of his ink-black hair falling over his face. His eyes, so intense, so sad and lonely, so feral with desire. His fingers traced their way to the neckline of my yukata with aching slowness, curling around them. Just a slight tug and-

"Stop!" I wrenched my yukata away from his hands and wrapped it around myself so tightly that I could feel the fabric of neckline digging into my neck with enough force to bruise.

He did stop. His fingers stilled though he did not move away. There was a flicker of anger in his smoldering irises but it vanished quickly like moth-smoke. The loneliness remained however, limitless loneliness, until it became both the midnight oceans and gravity of the moon, reaching out for each other and writhing in vain for nothing. Can't you see, he was saying wordlessly, you are all I have got.

"Fukuros," I sputtered. "We don't- I mean I can't-"

"I see," he said simply.

It was true. Fukuros were the descendants of saints and preachers and therefore, modesty was revered above all other traits. Both Fukuro men and women were made to take vow of chastity until marriage upon reaching puberty and Obaa-san, having possessed the most traditional of the mindsets, needless to say, had coerced me into taking one too. But I had never really intended to honor the vow… until Danzo.

"Itachi," I whispered almost beseechingly, reaching for his face but his long, tapering fingers clamped around my delicate wrist, arresting my hand inches away from his face.

"Don't," he said. "You have no idea how hard it is to control myself. We Uchihas always want more and more. All or nothing. Until we devour the very thing we cherish and turn it into ashes. So don't feel guilty, Miyuki. You have every right to deny me. You don't owe me anything."

"That's not-" I swallowed, trying to reign in my galloping heart. To my utter mortification, I felt tears erupt from my eyes. Hot rivulets dribbling down the already searing, flushed skin of my cheeks. If Itachi was alarmed to see a seasoned kunoichi like me crying helplessly like a child, he didn't show it. He merely let go of my hand, freeing me from his stifling touch.

"I apologize," he said. "It was most… unchivalrous of me to act in a way I did. I understand and respect your boundaries as a Fukuro."

Tears always had a way of making me feel angry. "It's not my values as Fukuro that's stopping me!"

He merely raised an eyebrow.

"Danzo. He- He-"

Suddenly Itachi's eyes widened, coming to their own conclusion, before they narrowed to slits. Sharingan activated automatically and I had to fight an urge to cringe away from him. The aura around him morphed into thunderclouds and lightning.

"Did they rape you?" he asked, almost tonelessly. Poison and vengeance trimming each lethal inflection of his voice. "Answer me."

"No…" I shook my head and then took a shuddering breath. "Even worse. They took away my ability to reproduce… I can never have a child, Itachi."

Rape, was of course, one of the most notoriously vile yet common ways of defiling and inflicting pain upon a kunoichi in the predatory ninja world. It was something that was considered almost inevitable in our line of work and so, most villages had made it a point to give their kunoichis several controlled counselling sessions in efforts to mitigate both physical and psychological damage related to sexual violence. Danzo knew he could not inflict crippling harm on me this way, so he had settled for something far more nefarious. The fact that I was the last of Fukuro aided him greatly. So, vengeful he was towards our clan that he decided to put an end to us once and for all. Before that, I had never really given much thought to having children of my own; cursed with short lifespans and always teetering on thin ice as a shinobi didn't leave much room for elaborate future planning, but I had always assumed that I would have children at some point in my life.

But now that was gone too. Just like everything else.

Itachi didn't respond. Not even so much as narrowing of his eyes. Suddenly I felt disgusted with myself. Why did I tell him something like that? He wouldn't understand. A man who had already mapped out his own death was not capable of comprehending something as intricate and fragile as this. And did I need his sympathy? His pity? His empty words that everything would be okay? Certainly not. It was the last thing I needed. What was I thinking, blurting out something like that?

Suddenly, I just didn't want to be near him any longer. It was unbearable.

I was about to get up, to put as much distance between us as possible but he stopped me with a hand around my wrist. "Itachi," I said, trying my best to hold back the barrage of fresh tears. "Let go…"

"Miyuki," he said. "Look at me."

I hadn't realized that I had been evading his eyes until he gave me that command. It had to be illegal for a kunoichi to feel as defenseless as I did then as I forced myself to look into his fathomless orbs, too afraid to find in their obsidian mirrors something that I didn't want to see, something that would surely shatter me into stardust. Please have mercy on me.

Yet, in his eyes, I only saw kindness.

"Miyuki."

"...Itachi?"

"Marry me."

She broke through my Tsukuyomi, Shisui.

Like knife through the butter, just like that. First time the Mangekyou- that you had gifted to me that fateful day at waterfall back in Konoha- has ever failed me. Yet, I don't feel like I have been defeated at all. Quite the contrary. In this tattered body that I wear, destined for desolation, I feel like I have been reborn. Yes, I do exist in her, like a cancer, a parasite. I drink from her and become complete again. When I defeat her, I lose but when she defeats me, I am the one who wins. Irony, my old friend, had always been your strong suit, so I am bestowing it upon you, in abundance.

The irony is, that I, Uchiha Itachi, the biggest demon to ever walk on this earth, capable of killing with a mere cursory glance, the merciless murderer of countless, is unable to kill one person, the only person I truly want to kill. Danzo Shimura.

The irony is that I, the slayer of my kin, is asking one person I vowed to cherish, to protect and keep away from clutches of Uchihas, to be my family- notwithstanding my history with the so called 'family'. So deeply woven she is with all the fibers of my entity that if I were to kill her now with my own hands, I would most definitely become immortal. But I don't crave power anymore. I crave her. I crave her with intensity of all the chakra Uchihas had ever possessed since our very wretched beginnings. I can feel the ancient darkness stirring and singing in my veins at the sight of her. Take her away, it says. She is yours. Why do you hesitate when she is herself willing to give you everything?

And then comes the biggest irony of all; I don't deserve her. Hell, how well I know this single fact that I am not worthy of her, but I have her all the same. I have all of her.

His words had unhinged the gravity from underneath my feet and had sent me hurtling down into curiously cruel and beautiful world of nebulae and blackholes. It had taken a while for me to resurface and come to my senses enough to process what was happening. I don't need your pity, I hissed at him, mistrustful as ever, struggling to pull away like sparrow caught in snare but he had trapped both my wrists in his one hand and then went on insistently, almost cruelly. Marry me.

Why?

Why. After everything we have been through, you are asking me why.

He let go of me then and got up, ignoring my bowed head, my shuddering form, the tears cascading down my cheeks, dripping into the fabric of my yukata like lost footsteps in the snow. But just before he left, his fingers grazed the last vestiges of tears from my face ever so lightly, a whisper of light, seeping into centuries old cave shrouded in perpetual darkness. He put his thumb in his mouth, tasting the salt as his eyes closed.

"I will wait for your answer… Miyuki."

It was a long way to Yumegakure.

Evenbefore we had set off on our journey, I was more than just wary. Tension between Itachi and me was more viscid than ever, well past its pinnacle and we were both swimming in its miasma like two helpless moths trapped in amber. Fukuros and Uchihas were clans different as night and day, and yet, we both had one thing in common; ego and pride. Perhaps few years back, I would have been overwhelmed with happiness to hear these words from Itachi's mouth- the innocent girl that I was before all the disillusionment of the universe wore me down. But now, these words were just a tragedy. A beautiful, cruel lie.

He had adamantly refused to permit me to tell the Leaf village the truth; he had himself vowed to hunt me down and kill me if that happened. He had been willing to just destroy all my memories of him and bury me alive into maggot-ridden graves of oblivion. He would never love me, not the way I loved him, madly, self-destructively, to the point that I was willing to set the whole village and myself on fire for him. And now, he wanted me to marry him?

How could I? How could I?

I wanted him to free Sasuke from the noose of hatred. I wanted him to let me kill Danzo. I wanted him to let the villagers appreciate his sacrifice. I wanted him to let the village absolve us. I wanted him to become the Hokage. I wanted... How could I marry him like this, when he wasn't even willing to lift a finger for me? When all the feelings he held for me was only a measly willow tree, next to the forest of feelings he held for Konoha. When I carried no influence in his life whatsoever- never had, never will? Here I was, existing as an empty chrysalis, having readily thrown all my life away for him. How could I, when I loved him this much?

You say cruel things, Itachi...

I watched him now as he glided ahead of me, pressing his sandals on lichen-smeared branches of spruce trees, his midnight tresses fluttering in wintry wind and I was transported to our lazy, Halcyon days back in Konoha when we were both still children. Frequenting dango stall, training near waterfall, walking side by side on autumn-littered trails through mountains. So what, a thought snaked into chalice of my mind, so what if he doesn't agree with you. If you had wished for waters to change their ways, then perhaps, you shouldn't have fallen in love with tsunami. Isn't it absurd and futile to expect tsunamis to alter their course for you? After all, you are merely a small island in the way. The only thing you can do is ride the wave, witness unimaginable beauty without giving any thought to where waters would take you. And if the tide demands it, you may perish with the waters. This is your punishment, for having fallen in love with tsunami.

Thankfully, Itachi was considerate enough not to mention his capricious proposal through out our journey and I had an uncanny feeling that he wasn't going to; it was all up to me now. He had already receded behind that impenetrable fortress. Though he acted impassive, I could tell that he was terribly aware of yet another crevasse that had appeared between us after last night's altercation. It was hard to ignore it when he treated me with such chilling politeness as he was doing right now, almost as if I had turned into a stranger overnight. And so, I was infinitely relieved when we finally crossed the border and entered into premises of the village hidden in dreams.

The village was glittering and gleaming with resplendent colors, the greens and egg-shell blues, the harvest-moon yellows and twilight vermillions. The paper lanterns hung and swayed to the winds and vendors swathed in colorful, ethnic shawls called out to us as if they were exotic birds with iridescent plumage, luring in their preys. For a while, I floated through the surreal streets with Itachi, mesmerized and overwhelmed, but I could tell that there was something terribly wrong here. This whole village was like basket full of fruits. Apples and peaches and plums and strawberries- so saccharine and tart, yet rancid from inside and probably infested with insects.

After we had sought audience with Lord Haruma of Yumegakure- a short, stubby man with a ridiculous head-dress- we got to work, and with our combined efforts, it didn't take us long to find the Dream-raiders. The culprit was no other than jealous brother of Lord Haruma of Yumegakure who had hired elite Genjutsu-users to insidiously create conditions in the village that would inevitably lead to rebellion against the Lord of Yumegakure and his ultimate demise. Lord Haruma thanked us both profusely for saving him and his village, and vowed to negotiate the terms of Akatsuki founding their strongholds within Yumegakure over the feast he had prepared in our honor the very next day.

"Until then," he said, "you are our guests of honor. Shall I prepare two rooms, or would you two prefer a single room?"

"Two rooms would be fine," Itachi said smoothly. I didn't miss how his eyes flickered towards me as he said that.

True to their words, they installed us in the luxury guest's quarters with two rooms and a small kitchenette, decorated so lavishly that even the ever so indulgent and aristocratic Hyuugas would have been ashamed of such extravagance. The wood used in the panels came from rare, exorbitant Silver Willow trees, known for the spiraling silvery patterns in their barks and tatami mats were knitted from priceless heliotrope maiden-grass. The quarters were flanked on two sides with a porch overlooking picturesque view of a lake nestled in cradles of snow-capped mountains.

"What is the name of this lake, Midori-san?" I asked the maid who had been sent to attend to me in spite of all my protests.

She laughed as she struggled with ivory comb through the tangled wet mess that was my hair. "Here in Yumegakure, we avoid giving names to things. You can never know what is real and what isn't. This lake, for instance, might not be there when you wake up in the morning."

"How can that be possible?" I wondered out loud, trying relax under her ministrations.

"There is a reason why our village is called the village hidden in dreams, Fukuro-san," she said. "It is a place where your wildest dreams or nightmares could come true and likewise, it is also a place where your reality, no matter how tangible, may dwindle into a mere dream. They say this village was built on grave of Enenra the whimsical."

"Enenra?" I whispered.

"Enenra the whimsical, the mythical tailed beast," said Midori-san. "A long time ago, there existed this beautiful creature having inexplicable amount of chakra with affinity for Genjustu. Naturally, all the ninjas wanted to capture it and harness all its power, and so, they set a cruel trap for the magnificent beast and killed her. But near her death the creature, who recognized all the greed and darkness that smoldered in hearts of humans, refused to pass on her chakra to humans. She gave it to the land instead. This whole village thrums with Enenra the whimsical's chakra. The reality frequently gets distorted here. It's possible that this lake may disappear in the morning. It is possible that whatever you do here may only be a dream once you leave the premises of this village."

Itachi left the quarters early next morning to run some clandestine errand for Akatsuki which was no surprise; Our Leader, wise man that he was, frequently instructed other members not to give me any of the vital information, as he was still having trouble trusting me completely. The lake from last night had disappeared, just as Midori-san said it would, replaced by an extensive garden. Intrigued beyond measure, I decided to explore more of the ethereal village by myself; it would be shame not to. The vendors sitting in the colorful stalls were selling dreams and sneezes and memory-erasing pills and cat-repelling whistles and I couldn't help but be spellbound by beautiful surrealism of the village.

"Visit any place in the world- for thirty silver croins! Come this way, pretty miss. I am sure there is a place out there in the world you have been dying to visit."

Though I gave the shady-looking man the thirty silver croins, I hadn't really believed that he had power to transport me to my desired destination-until he did. All he had to do was scribble something on a special scroll and then knit his hands together in several intricate hand-signs; then I was lifted by small flurry of wind. And I was here.

The Nisshoku shrine.

The Torri-gate loomed against blue skies with majesty of hundreds of years, red as the blood of all my ancestors. The haunting sounds of night-jars and owls resounded through the dilapidated walls, scattering echoes of their perpetual desolation. The owl gargoyles, stone-cold and ancient, stared at me, welcoming me into abyss of their eyes. I ran my fingers against their algid, rain-smoothened surface, over the blood in Torri-gate, trying to remember all the nooks and crannies. Encroaching moss of times had climbed all over the sepulchral wood of the edifice that made up the shrine. No light came out of any window. No sound of laughter of a child or Obaa-san's scoldings. No sounds of footsteps padding over the staircase. No sunset fishes in the koi pond. No sparrows or linnets. No hymns or prayers whispered against the wild lianas that had swallowed the whole building. No dreams or I-wishes. A little girl that had lived here was gone. It seemed such a long time ago.

Fukuro library had been raided and all the scrolls had either been put to fire or confiscated- most probably by Danzo who was still searching for the memory-scroll that carried truth about Uchiha clan. Not that he would ever find it. I let my hands trail along the walls as I walked, slowly gathering the dust that had accumulated over all these abandoned contours. I had this uncanny feeling that though I really was here in my old home, no evil could follow me here. That I was protected here, by my family and ancestors, even as all of them slept in their graves. My head bowed in apology as I thought of them. Years and years and years of glory- and this was the only remaining legacy of the once legendary Fukuro clan. A ramshackle shrine and a ramshackle girl. Both barren.

Avoiding the room where I had spent all of my childhood, I slid open the door to Obaa-san's room instead and slipped in as quiet as a shadow. I caressed her kotatsu table, the old shelf where she kept her most precious scrolls and was surprised to find that most of her scrolls had been returned- courtesy of the Hokage, no doubt- in order to honor the late Lady Fukuro. Most of the scrolls carried same tedious, old teachings of the Furkuro clan that I had already crammed and forgotten. But one of these scrolls, tied belovedly with a faded blue satin ribbon, held a memory.

A memory of beautiful boy, with golden eyes and the eyes sometimes crimson with Sharingan. Full of laughter and sunshine and glittering waters and plum blossoms. Obaa-san was young, exhibiting grace of a white gazelle, clad in long, flowing, old-fashioned kimono embroidered with scattering plum blossoms, with her hair artfully coiffured on one side of her head. Few errant hair curled over her ears and grazed her alabaster collarbone in ringlets. Her cheeks were apricot red as she laughed with a boy with eyes sometimes red with Sharingan.

Please, marry me, the boy said even though he was an Uchiha and she a Fukuro. And she nodded yes, her eyes flashing with borrowed happiness and her eyelashes tremulous with tears. But all was lost of flurry of plum blossoms and the scene shifted. The beautiful boy with Sharingan called her name softly, beseechingly.

"I know what is stopping you; pride. You are the bravest woman I know. Please marry me now. We would never have the time that we have right now. Don't do this… I beg of you."

"I will marry you," said Obaa-san. "But now isn't the right time. I have duties as Fukuro. Please wait for me. I love you, with all my heart."

"Fine. I will wait for you," said the boy. "You are worth it. Even your pride is worth it."

But he didn't. He was gone come the wilting petals of plum blossoms in the spring, even before the thaw had completely broken. Obaa-san held his hand as he breathed his last, trying to summon all the seeping strength from his body to utter a single word; Obaa-san's name. But even that was an impossibility. Higanbana blossoms bloomed in his chest, crimson and pulsating, tainting Obaa-san whispering lips, her white kimono, the salt of her tears.

"Farewell, my love."

Sealed in the scroll was an engagement ring and an old wedding dress in impeccable condition, probably never worn. I clutched the jasmine-soft, gossamer white fabric to my chest, willing to free myself from onslaught of emotions that ricocheted through my body. Obaa-san's pain and unimaginable regret speared my heart and was more palpable than anything I had experienced before. I thought I had accepted the fact that Itachi was going to die someday, and that I would be alive to witness it all. But perhaps, I had not fully realized what it truly meant, what it would do to me. Where would I go from there? What would I do in the world where Itachi did not exist?

Before I could get completely vanquished by my tears, I felt a presence beside me. Still holding the dress, I whipped out the kunai and sent it hurtling at the intruder, who just deflected it effortlessly.

"Itachi!"

"I followed you here," he said, walking into the tangerine light of sunset streaming in through the window. The sight of his face, kissed by fiery sunlight, intensified the already aching pressure over my heart. His eyes were black of midnight lakes, and in them I existed, the only place I wanted to be.

"I did not wish to intrude but I thought you would be… vulnerable here in Konoha."

"Are we really in Konoha?" I whispered. "Or are we here in dream?"

"In dream, most probably," said Itachi with a shrug. "But it feels real. Completely real."

"Itachi," I said, raising myself up on my quavering knees, as I turned to face him. I had this unearthly feeling that he was going to vanish right now, ripple away like a wisp into sunset and before I knew what was happening, I felt myself move, as if in a languorous dream, and then my arms were wrapped around Itachi's form and side of my face was resting against his heart. He was here. In this moment, he was more real than anything. I could just stand there, listening to his heartbeat, and it would not be a wasted life.

"I don't care if it is a dream or reality, Itachi. Let's get married. Let's get married right now."

….…

When the vendor summoned us back, I was still holding on to Obaa-san's pristine wedding dress, the only indication that we really had been to Nisshoku shrine just moments ago. It seemed to bemuse vendor a little. "Only people with very strong chakra are able to retrieve things the way you had, miss," he said. "Or the people who have very strong attachment to the said object."

"It's the only thing I have of my Obaa-san," I explained to the vendor with a smile. "And besides, I am getting married soon, so I need a dress, don't I?"

The lake that nobody dared to name appeared after twilight as if on a whim just as furtively as it had disappeared. The silvery moon drank thirstily from the crystalline waters of the lake until it was whole and round as ever, and snow over the mountains gleamed like sugar as it licked the icy sweetness of moonlight. A lacy Sakura tree in full bloom, in spite of early autumn, arched over the limpid waters and the petals seemed to glow from pale tinsel of moonlight.

I was to get married right beside this lake that was perhaps only a figment of imagination, sometimes there, sometimes not. Obaa-san's dress fitted me like morning frost thanks to last moment's alterations done by Midori-san. The chiffon and silks were sheer and fine as wings of moths, embellished with moonlight pearls that still retained their luster after all this time. Compared to the ostentatious and downright gaudy fashions that were all in rage in Obaa-san's era, this particular dress was quite simple and intimate, which led me to believe that Obaa-san had been willing to marry her Uchiha lover in secret. Just the way I was doing right now.

Midori-san was the only person I had confided in about our engagement and imminent wedding- for some reasons, I had felt like I could trust her- and she was overjoyed with the news, almost as if she had known me all my life. Her excitement and delight was dangerously infectious, so much so, that I found myself smiling giddily like an ordinary girl about to get married. It felt good to have someone who was happy for you; it made me remember Hana. But I pushed Hana and others fiercely out of my mind. No, I couldn't get carried away.

"I knew it," Midori-san exclaimed with a chuckle, "I knew you two were lovers and not just random, heartless ninjas! Don't worry; leave all the arrangements to me. You are not the first couple to have wandered into Yumegakure to get married."

"Say, Midori-san," I said as she meticulously arranged lilies-of-the-valley and forget-me-nots in my shoulder-length hair- you have got to wear flowers if not jewelry, Fukuro-san. Haven't seen a bride this plain before- "Will Itachi and I still be married if we leave the village hidden in dreams? I feel… like I am so happy, but I am only happy here, in this land. And the moment we leave this place, we will pay the terrible price of this fleeting happiness. So please tell me, is this only a dream?"

"So what if it is a dream, Fukuro-san," she said. "For now, it is real, at least. Good dreams are always followed by nightmares, but it is not a sin to dream and be happy. This world is full of far too many sufferings, but that is the reason why moments like these are all the more beautiful and precious. After all, the stars are the brightest on the blackest night."

Itachi was attired in dark robes trimmed with gray hemlines and it seemed like midnight skies had themselves descended from celestial zeniths to wrap themselves around him. He stood under the madly blooming nebula of Sakura tree, waiting for me with barest hints of smile, along with someone who was to officiate the wedding. He- my Itachi- was so beautiful that for that moment, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, as if this otherworldly dark angel couldn't possibly belong to a mere human, but should only be sought after in vain. The inky darkness of his robes stood in stark contrast to my whiteness and as I made my way to where he stood, I felt like I was floating in a dream, over a trail made of mist and moonlight, flanked on both sides with infinite ether of nothingness. Itachi was the only dream worth having that had power to crush my soul with infinite longing should I open my eyes.

The ceremony itself was rather short but eventful all the same. Instead of a ring, he gave me a small, ornamental hair-comb molded into an intricate moth that he himself placed into my gleaming hair, his touch lingering over the tender skin behind my ears. It made me shiver as my mind automatically went to what would transpire between us later that night. It made me so nervous that I had to summon all my chakra not to blush there and then. But Itachi, ever so perceptive, caught on fast and gave me a lazy, knowing smirk, which only made me even more embarrassed. We exchanged our vows in silence as no words could possibly do justice to all the feelings that were brimming in our hearts. And just like that, we were bound to each other on this universe. If we weren't already.

As the world drowned deeper and deeper into darkling well of the night, I sat barefooted on the porch in my wedding dress, with my eyes riveted upon the whimsical lake under the immensity of skies. To say that I was apprehensive was an understatement. How could anyone, let alone a kunoichi like me, accept the kind of intimacy and invasion that would leave you completely defenseless and entirely at the mercy of someone else? My heart skipped a beat as I felt a disturbance behind me. Itachi's arm snaked around my midriff as he settled down beside me and pulled me towards himself, so that my back was pressed snugly against his chest. He was irresistibly warm in contrast to the coldness of the night. Also, he seemed to understand my hesitation because for a moment he just held me, listening to my stormy heartbeat, until some of my nervousness dissipated and I melted into his arms.

"Itachi?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you ask me to marry you?"

I felt him smile as he nibbled my earlobe playfully. "Little late to be asking that question, don't you think?" I didn't miss the teasing lilt in low timbre of his voice as he murmured against the sensitive shell of my ear. It was so seductive. "When you are already my wife."

An amalgam of fear and delicious happiness surged through my body at his words. My eyes fluttered close as I reveled in the feelings of his lips upon the tender skin of my neck. Unlike the urgency he had displayed in the past, his movements were painstakingly slow and inexorable, sizzling with deep, unbridled embers of passion, almost as if he was taking his sweet time savoring the victory.

"You... You haven't answered my question, Itachi. Why?"

He moved me slightly in his arms so that I was looking into his eyes.

"Because, I wanted one thing, one thing that wouldn't turn to dust in my hands."

A family that is true family.

As if it had life of its own, my hand moved and cupped the side of his chiseled jaw, brushing away his unbound, silken hair that rippled against his broad shoulders. So handsome he was that I felt tears sting my eyes. "So," I trembled slightly, "you are ready for redemption. I knew it! I just..."

My voice trailed off as a lethal gleam entered his eyes. "Enough talking, Miyuki," he said, dipping his face again, crushing my lips with his. I sighed helplessly against his implacable mouth, clinging to his strong shoulders, surrendering myself completely to this blissful, bouyant feeling of free-fall, as if the gravity had long banished me and the only thing holding me together was Itachi. Unraveling me with his fingers and lips and his eyeshes, and then assembling me, making me whole again. When we finally resurfaced from crimson mists of rapture, we were both gasping for breath.

"I have waited so long, so long for this, Miyuki," he said, so quietly it could have been a tenuous ripple in the lake. He gazed into my eyes now with such unadulterated tenderness and passion that it was almost bordering on violence. My breath hitched and my heart seemed to drop down into my stomach. I had an urge to both run far away from him and fall into him at the same time until there was no distance between us.

"May I?" he asked.

I managed a feeble nod. My toes curled in anticipation and goosebumps bloomed over my skin. Uncontainable feelings of affection and yearnings consolidated into an invisible, aching mass over my chest. All the while, I couldn't help the tears that rained down my cheeks. The moment was like a snowflake, falling directly into thaw. Our past and future, both were both nothing more than a vapor in the night. The only thing we had was this present. At least we owned that. However surreal or ephemeral it may be.

"I love you, Itachi," I managed to whisper. "Only you."

"I know."

He smirked then, safe in the knowledge that only he held this inexplicable power over me. It made me feel even weaker and more vulnerable and yet, the release that came with it was so strong, so comforting. It felt nice to just surrender, to let yourself be vanquished so utterly that you were nothing more than a speck floating in the space, surrounded by all the slow dancing stars

His fingers caressed my swollen lips, relentlessly tracing the contour of my collarbone, leaving a trail of stars upon my skin until my whole body was luminous with his glow. His thumb hooked in the neckline of my dress, leisurely pulling it off my shoulder to reveal the soft skin there and I couldn't help but sigh as his lips assailed me once again with renewed fervor. I whimpered his name. Through the haze of desire that had climbed over both of us, I realized that the obi that had been holding up my dress had already come undone and I trembled for a moment like an aspen leaf as arctic, lake-rimed wind full of moonlight caressed my exposed skin. My old battle-scars shimmered under the stars with both pride and shame. Against my will, I flushed and bit my lip under Itachi's intense, penetrating eyes, resisting an urge to cover myself.

"It's alright," Itachi whispered, cupping my heated cheek and forcing me to look at him. "Don't ever hide yourself from me, Miyuki."

Understanding my plight, he gathered me into his arms, covering me with his body and carried me inside, away from the night skies. But soon, wildfire racing through me had replaced any embarrassment I might have nurtured as his tantalizing lips and hands started exploring places nobody had seen or touched before, eliciting strange sounds of pleasure from my mouth. I had to bite my palm, in efforts to alleviate the overwhelming feelings of ecstasy lancing through my body but Itachi removed my hand and replaced it with his lips. In spite of lust and instinct that guided his actions, something about the way he handled me, as if I was as delicate as dandelion talcum, reassured me that he had not done this before either. If he was the sun, then I was the moon, wearing his radiance. With him, only with him, I was like the Northern lights, dancing and sparkling with iridescent colors over icy, dead landscape.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue, and shiver in the distance'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is starry and she is not with me.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

-Pablo Neruda.

A/N: Hey guys. Hopefully you are doing well and staying safe. Thank you so much for reading up till now! So they are finally married! Yes, I had planned out something really morbid for their wedding but the I decided to settle for dreamy and romantic. After all, they deserve it after all they have been through. Please let me know what you think!

~AnEveningMoth