Chapter 24
The Chunin Exams (Pt. 2)
It was the day of the Chunin Exams. The villages of the five nations were gathered at the coliseum by the end of the week after the completion of the second exam. Since then, the main attraction that has been caught in the wind of thousands of gossiping ears was that a child prodigy from Konohakure has made it to the final rounds.
The heir of the Uchiha clan, Itachi of the Hidden Leaf.
It was the talk of the many. Villagers have paid to watch the fight, filling all the seats and stairs of the arena with overwhelming capacity, talking excitedly or sitting quietly with bated breath, rigid and pumped with anticipation and partial skepticism. They did not know what to expect. While the one side that knew firsthand of the Uchiha's capabilities––knew of Itachi's capabilities––were filled with smug pride and high hopes for the strength of their village, the other had an undertone of fear and curiosity, fed by rumors of evidential eye-witnesses and their messenger who have claimed to have seen a small black-haired Uchiha child (not yet a decade old at the time) fight with the deadly and cold accuracy of a highly seasoned shinobi. One that would have qualifications of becoming a grandmaster.
Danzo expected no less from the academy student graduate of a single year. The boy who became a war veteran before a teacher's pet. As he listened to the tiger-masked ANBU's report of the Uchiha heir's records from the second exam––a time elapse of five hours and thirty-seven minutes––a new record held in the Forty-Fourth Training Ground, considering that the exam was held for three-person cells––a faint smile grew on Danzo's lips. The record truly was astounding.
It has also been reported that, after such knowledge had been released, the genin of the Hidden Leaf who were to be Itachi's opponents had all defaulted. After hearing this, he burst into an uproar of laughter, the reaction so startling that such long-termed disuse cause an unpleasant cackling sound.
This did not surprise the leader of Root as much as it amused him. He had already thought plenty of times of how much better it would have been if he wasn't an Uchiha, but never had he felt it so keenly as he did in this moment.
Naturally, they would be afraid of Itachi's power. The Uchiha, after all, have their own utility, and Itachi was never any ordinary Uchiha, just an Uchiha was never any ordinary individual, among shinobi or people.
Uchiha: a name Danzo despised as well as envied with all his being. Such a fate was bittersweet with all its rigorous potential. One that was both glorious and tragic.
Itachi's opponent in the second round, if the battle was chosen properly, was reported to be...
"Nemui Shunimo. A Kumogakure genin of advanced skill."
"'Sleepy?'" Danzo snorted. "What a ridiculous name!"
"He's quite a popular ninja. Among the young ones at Kumogakure, anyway."
"Hmph!" The bandaged old man grunted. "A ninja with a pseudonym is second-rate. A true shinobi does not need a pseudonym."
The third exam was about to start. Keeping himself composed from the surprising amount of excitement he felt, Danzo kept himself composed as he started making his way toward the competition grounds, the ANBU trailing alongside him. "That being said," he spoke, "what will the pseudonym-free Itachi Uchiha be cooking up for an idiot genin who chooses a foolish name like 'Sleepy Hibernation?'"
He smirked to himself. "I am indeed looking forward to it."
Izumi didn't think she would be here, of all places. Here and now, practically crushed by the tight squeeze of heated bodies from random village members to the selected Inuzuka clan members with the dog-nin.
The arena was completely full. It was a wonder how she and Hana managed to get seats. Even with her friend's beneficial advantage of being the daughter of the Inuzuka clan head, they had to be early to get good seating.
Looking around, she felt tiny and insignificant when taking in the curving wall of the arena, sweeping in and around them in a circular expansion like a half-formed hive above the grounds below, which were covered in a rugged field of dirt planted with trees that grew here and there, lit from the bright glare of the sky spreading across the open ceiling like a second-layered atmospheric dome.
Scaffolding stretched out horizontally, protruding from the top of the wall above their heads, she looked further up to the sides where the huge number of spectators watched the matches take place, the people of whose futures depended on their roles of their genin. Daimyo, people from all the ruling classes in every land and clan (including her own, where she could barely perceive with sharp eyes the shapes of Fugaku, Great-Uncle Noriro, and the other high-class Uchiha members), and officials from many villages throughout the shinobi world. Chunin, jounin, genin, soon-to-be-genin...among them were even unfamiliar faces. Shady faces with their sly, self-confident smirks etched over downturned frown lines, wearing cloaks, hats and, more commonly, sketchy masks...They were likely black marketeers who managed to sneak in, barely finding space in between hundreds of seated legs or the sides of the open stairways stretching out across the pews.
It was truly incredible how every person in the world, even at their own risk, came to this specific exam to witness the concluding results of a widespread rumor.
The rumor that she knew for a fact to be true. Itachi Uchiha, the youngest prodigy of his generation, would not only be fighting…he would be fighting with his newly awakened Sharingan. If he used the Sharingan as a demonstration, he would show the world only a scratch of what he was capable of, confirming those claims once and for all.
Izumi could feel the weight of the tension, almost physical like a mountainous wave slowly bearing down over her head as smoothly and gradually as a magnetic force, pulling her entire attention down towards the battlefield not that far in front of her. Drawn towards the battle between the young ninja currently at play, neither of whom Izumi quickly noted were from her village.
She had heard the genin from Konahakure had started to pull out the moment they saw Itachi's name on the chart to the final rounds. By now, they should have already realized that not only did they not stand a chance against the Uchiha's future clan head, but that they knew better than to try. He was not only too strong and smart for them. He was cold, calculating, lethal. Merciful at one point, ruthless the next.
He was unpredictable.
Yet the genin from the other village did not know it, least of all the ones who fighting one-on-one with each other now. Most of them were from the enemy villages of the Third Great Ninja War.
Izumi would be one of those genin someday. She won't back out of a fight when fighting so hard to get this far. She watched the battles in awe, learning more from her enemies than her comrades.
They were deadly. They were terrifying. Seeing such capabilities on display, rather than scaring her off, only fueled her determination to better herself.
These will be the ninja she will be forced to fight to the death someday. These will be the shinobi who will be a threat to her village, and to all she loved. This bitter glimpse of the future sickened her to the core, but one of sadness.
"Itachi is coming up next," she murmured, once the duel between sand and stone ceased, the latter claiming victory.
"Itachi Uchiha from Konahakure."
Her heart skipped a beat when seeing the small shape of Itachi enter the field. On the other side, another genin, Itachi's opponent, entered more slowly in a swaggering motion as if he were sleepwalking. He had olive skin, white unruly hair sprung around his forehead protector with one strand flopping lazily over one eye, a lanky frame with a sleeveless black top and pants cut-off at his skins, and and long face with a lopsided mouth and droopy gray eyes.
"Well, he's taking his sweet time," scoffed Hana, sending a dark look down at the opposing genin. The Inuzuka girl knows an idiot when she smells one...but also a genius who looks like an idiot. That was one of the best and most intimidating things about Hana: she used her nose before using her eyes, and her intuition became sharper because of that ability.
"Nemui Shunimo from Kirigakure."
"What kind of name is 'sleepy hibernation?' It fits him so well that it obviously can't be his real name. How lame!"
Izumi agreed. Yet her gut was telling her that there was more to this genin than meets the eye. They had to have set him with Itachi for a reason.
Either way, they were about find out as the examiner stepped out into the field to explain the usual rules.
Then, the long-awaited fight would begin.
Konohakagure has Itachi Uchiha…
...
"...I repeat, there are absolute no rules," the supervising examiner finished announcing loudly, standing between the two young opposing genin with his hand raised high. "The contest continues until one side admits defeat. However, when I judge that continuation is impossible, the match will cease from there. You both understand?"
"…" The half-asleep face before him showed no signs of response in his droopy expression. A moment later, he let out a long-drawn yawn. Again.
By this point, the boy Nemui had yawned so many times in the span of a minute that Itachi wondered if he might actually fall asleep on the spot.
Interestingly, his name meant "sleepy," in that regard, and he was, apparently, a ninja from Kumogakure.
"Maybe we should have them push our turn back," said Itachi finally, watching him with unwavering neutrality, "so that you can afford proper sleep for later?"
Nemui glanced at Itachi, his eyelids hanging halfway over his perfectly round eyes, exhaustion playing at the corners of his mouth where a sly smile slowly crept. "No need," he said. Even his smile looked sleepy.
Itachi said nothing more. He had to demonstrate such overwhelming strength that the outsiders from enemy villages gathered there wouldn't so much as think of laying a hand on Konoha. It would be his first step toward the world without fighting. He had absolutely no intention of going easy on anyone.
He was going to give this everything he had.
...
"Second round, third exam: Konohagakure ninja Itachi Uchiha versus Kumogakure ninja Nemui Shunmino," the supervisor shouted, taking multiple steps back until he was out of the way. Then his arm came down in a cutting motion. "BEGIN!"
There was a heartstopping break of tension––
––only to drop when the latter contestant, Nemui, opened his mouth in a great yawn as the start signal was given. There was a smattering of whispered laughter in the venue. Both Izumi and Hana sweat-dropped. "Are you kidding me?" Hana muttered, and Izumi responded similarly, not in the least impressed.
But still…
Izumi turned her attention to Itachi, who immediately got into position. He leaned forward slightly and braced his feet. He had no weapons in either hand. His entire body seemed to relax and his awareness was set adrift, not concentrating on any particular spot. He was ready to react immediately, no matter what his opponent did.
Right. Izumi set her jaw, fingers closing tensely over her knee. A ninja must always be ready.
Watching from above, Nemui's slouching body position straightened, arms dangling loosely at his sides, looking as though he was not in any kind of ready position. He started to wobble from side to side, looking even more unimpressed…yet the chilling knot in Izumi's stomach continued to tighten with unease, her eyes fixed with growing dread. She felt herself sweat, as though she were the one facing him in battle, not Itachi.
This guy…He's up to something, she thought with a frown.
"Maybe you should just go to sleep..." Itachi started to say, but before his response had even reached his ears, Nemui's eyes had drifted closed. His stiff body pitched forward, like a stick falling to the earth.
While Izumi remained watching, Hana huffed. "Geez, what a letdown––" the Inuzuka started to grumble, but then the Kumo genin disappeared from the spot, immediately before he slammed into the ground. "W-What the-!" sputtered Hana, wide-eyed.
Izumi took a sharp breath. From her viewpoint, Itachi seemed to react to the same way, much to her surprise. Apparently even the young genius hadn't anticipated this.
Neither of them felt a hint of movement in Nemui. His action was too sudden. He hadn't seemed to be shifting his weight to either side.
"Where did he go?" exclaimed Izumi, looking frantically for him on the battlefield, with her childhood friend stand in the center, like a little black dot in a circle of golden-brown earth.
Then, to her horror, she saw a blink of movement…and a flashing crack of lightning…
...
Damn. Itachi realized that he had been slow to anticipate his opponent's movement and inwardly berated himself. In that monetary opening, Nemui had gotten the jump on him.
Then he heard a snore from behind, a leap of air brushing his bangs forward.
CRACK-
Thunder...
-ZAP! Itachi immediately tumbled forward in a basic somersault, the right arm brandished by the sleeping Nemui grazing the front of his face, just below his right eye. Three drops of blood flew in the air, as if slow motion; Itachi winced. The arm pushed past him with incredible force, white electricity turning into countless bolts of lightning, enveloping the arm.
So that is the true form of lightning, Itachi wondered absently as he landed, getting some distance from his opponent.
He should have known that Nemui would not simply be the type to just roll of over and let himself be defeated, as his appearance and name suggested.
Itachi won't make that mistake again.
...
Izumi continued to watch, almost stand to her feet with her clenched fist half-raised. The lightning enveloping Nemui's arm had taken everyone completely off guard, even causing a few audience members to fall over in shock while others from his village started to cheer and hoot, those same people yelling at him to "take the Uchiha runt out." It was all Izumi could do to battle her old reflexes, to not to whip around, forget that she and Itachi were estranged, and yell at them in his defense.
Instead, her focus was on the fight between the boy she loved and the enemy genin, both of whom she learned in the span of a second can split strategy from personality like night and day.
As before, Nemui remained asleep. Standing up. Was it an act? Or was he really sleeping? A stream of thoughts kept running through Izumi's mind. She frantically wondered if Itachi felt the same, or if he already knew, and resisted the habitual urge to pull at her bangs. She never thought that she would actually be afraid that Itachi would lose. It was unthinkable.
So what now? The only way to find out was to just attack him directly...
As if in sync with her thoughts, Itachi had pulled a kunai from his breast pocket and threw it. Izumi felt a gasp escape her.
The blade flew in a straight line toward the face of the sleeping Nemui, whose body shook violently, rocking from side to side––and just barely evaded the kunai.
Was he awake?
"This isn't good," gritted Izumi. Hearing her, Hana looked at her, alarmed.
"How do you figure?" she asked. The young Uchiha girl tensed further.
"At this point, it doesn't matter if he's awake or not," she said, "because with his eyes closed…"
Itachi-kun couldn't use the Sharingan.
...
SWISH!
With a jerk of his head, he had to bend a sideways in a backward motion as the kunai barely missing his extended ear. With a circular maneuver, Itachi skidded to a halt, blood rushing through his veins from the previous dodge of a blade, which had been surprisingly too close for his comfort.
Twenty feet away, Nemui stood upright, still fast asleep on his feet, seemingly unfazed by the rush of the previous attack, as if there wasn't a battle-tag between them currently taking place. As he began swaying violently from side to side, just when Itachi realized the next move, the Kiri genin disappeared from his field of vision––
When he moved, Itachi moved––
––and barely avoided the lightning cloaked arm that suddenly appearing in a sweeping strike toward the spot where he had previously been standing, dancing up into the sky almost effortlessly with a boost of chakra and stealth in the blink of an eye.
Managing to keep his enemy within his line of sight, the young Uchiha landed near the wall, putting some space in between them with a slightly tensed look, his thoughts racing at a dizzying speed as he tried to analyze the phenomenon before him. He could feel his breath coming short under the rapid pounding of his adrenaline, a tinge of sweat now glistening under his hair strands until they ran down his neck in warm droplets, sticking to the fabric of his high-collared shirt.
This is taking too long.
This genin was actually tiring him out. The chakra levels meant for his Sharingan were being consumed. For the results of a guaranteed victory, the Sharingan was essential. Not only as the trump card, but as the grand finale fore all the five nations to witness. He needed to save it until the right moment came.
He observed Nemui, who continued wobbling off in the distance.
While determined to unleash his power, he was also confident in his own physical abilities. To put an end to the chaotic duel unraveling before him.
He had a decade of life experience and practice at hand. He didn't need to rely on the Sharingan's power.
He had to assume his enemy was using a type of technique that would allow the full extent of his physical abilities to manifest through the slumbering state of mind. By sleeping, his ego would be kept in check while carrying out his specialized movements through pure instinct and animal intuition alone.
If he simply concentrated on that, resorting to taijutsu, he could easily retain the same level of ground with this boy.
Itachi was not entirely sure what it was, but beneath the solid layers of focus, he could almost swear he was being witnessed by a certain watcher among the millions who had absolute faith in him. While tempted to look, he brushed that need aside and extended his senses instead toward his sleep-walking opponent.
His vision…hearing…scent…with everything he had, he felt Nemui. Caught his aura tracing the wall to his right.
A crackling sensation started building up...
Lightning shot forward. Itachi dodged. Then he had a flash of insight.
I see now.
Itachi landed on his feet and, in a patient stance, waited for Nemui to attack again. He would do nothing but keep retreating…for now.
He knew what he had to do. All he had to do was be patient. Once the right moment came, then Itachi will be ready to strike.
It seemed like he was more superior, after all.
.
Everyone, including Itachi, had clearly been surprised by his opponent's somnolence, so Izumi went so far to assume that he had briefly lost sight of the fact that this was a fight based simply on physical abilities. Taijutsu and ninjutsu rather than genjutsu.
It was almost as if he was trained to fight any genjutsu user, thought Izumi, who was watching Nemui like Itachi in that moment. Or more specifically…
"Oh!" breathed Izumi, eyes widening as realization dawned on her. "I get it now!"
"What?" Hana, frowning, glanced at Izumi, but the young Uchiha girl continued watching the fight, trying to find out if her theory was correct. With flowing movements, Itachi kept evading Nemui's attacks, the latter ninja ever magnetic in his selfless dream state.
"Think about it," said Izumi. "Why does the enemy specialize in a technique that relies on sleeping? He would have to be sealing himself away to increase his abilities, so that he wouldn't be distracted by emotion or anxiety, something that definitely be a hinderance to anyone."
"Yeah, but––"
"And when people go to sleep, they don't usually remember drifting off, right?" Izumi was getting more excited, more certain now with a glow in her eyes. "In other words, Nemui is demonstrating as someone else entirely."
"A double personality." Hana was starting to catch on, familiar with the medical terms of sleep. "So if Nemui were to wake up, he would switch back to himself!"
"And then he wouldn't remember the other half of him who had been fighting," continued Izumi. She gave a shake of her head. "He couldn't, because he'd have to be conscious to remember something his mind would process in order to function at the same level."
"So if Itachi-san woke him up––"
"––he could win," said Izumi with a determined nod. "He just has to keep dodging his attacks and wait it out. That being said, knowing Itachi-kun before this, he could go on for an entire day."
From the distance, she swore there was a change of tension in Itachi's form, while Nemui gave a visible twitch.
"He's going to attack," said Izumi aloud, recognizing the sign immediately.
Focus, Itachi-kun, thought Izumi, not realizing she was now on her feet as she focused all her attention on her childhood friend, who in turn was focused on his opponent across the field from him. You got this! There's not a doubt in my mind. Win!
All he had to do was wake Nemui up, then cast the genjutsu. The very thing that Kiri genin was trying to avoid, and rightfully so.
She did wonder, though: why did someone like Nemui need a technique like this one, long before this fight ever became a notion?
...
Because he was a coward. Itachi kept dodging the attacks as he kept assessing his opponent.
He is totally terrified of causing damage to anyone, and getting hurt.
So he escapes it all by going to sleep. So that would mean he would be afraid of endless sleep.
The kind no one wakes up from.
.
A sleep-walking ability of all things. To be unconscious while in a fight to the death? Sealing his entire sense of self away, not only to increase his physical abilities, but to risk doing it while not remembering anything, like riding in the back of moving caravan, putting all his trust in someone else to do all the work for him. What if something went wrong? That his opponent would get the best of him, strike for the kill, and Nemui would never wake up again. Never knowing who or what hit him...
To escape the horrors of reality, Izumi thought, understanding now with a mix of feelings. Without fear or regret. She bit her lip, hiding the conflicted emotions that flitted so openly in her expression. A world without pain.
How many times had she longed for something so tempting? To learn a technique so similar…though to take other's pain away rather than for herself...
Cowardly.
In the ninja world, it was also the cowardly way. Izumi already knew that once the moment of weakness had passed and her resolve and surety returned. It was because Nemui was a coward. It had to be it. Something both shameful and understandable, depending on what kind of person Nemui was.
Not only would he be afraid of getting hurt, but of hurting others and being aware of it. Of living with it.
It was so like her own promises as a ninja, to save people without trying to hurt or kill others…was it truly possible to attempt while staying conscious?
.
For ten more minutes, Itachi continued dodging Nemui's attacks back and forth. The whole time he waited for the Kiri-nin to open his eyes in order to carefully examine the situation. One peek was all Itachi needed…People in the arena were starting to fuss impatiently for a change to happen.
And then…Nemui's eyes started to slide open…meeting the ebony pair...
"Sharingan!"
With a searing flame of chakra bursting out in a flood from his eyes, taking less than a hundredth of a second to activate, their color flashed from black to spotted red mid-flight. Locking gazes in the moment of motion, he immediately hammered into those tiny, sleepy pupils the details images he had drawn together in his mind while dodging the attacks.
Pain.
.
"EEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
The shriek ripped throughout the entire arena, sending cold waves of hair-rising shivers down the backs of many.
As it certainly did for Izumi, like getting splashed headfirst with a bucket of ice-cold water before condensing.
He got him! He must have! But still…that scream…Izumi could not help watching in horror as Nemui stopped for a mere instant, still asleep on his feet, now coiling and twitching while unleashing raw sounds of fear and agony. Fear, then agony. Repeat. It was horrible.
Itachi-kun, what are you…?
Her breath seized. Her eyes had widened. Beads of sweat blistered her skin under the summer heat, but she felt stone cold. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear the quickening thumpthumpthumpthump pulsing in a resonating rhythm through her eardrums, muffling all other noise.
Red eyes.
Nemui screaming...
Sharingan!
Her own screams–––
Red flames…iron-crusted blood…nine-tails waving like a fan of looped flags rimmed with fire of iron rods….
Corpses of children rising from the ground….one missing its jaw, another an eyeball dangling, flesh sunken from their cheeks to the gaps between their rims….
Men…women…her father….all looking, looming, over her….
You should have saved me, her father had said in his hollow voice, but you were too weak.
No––
My half-blood bastard child. Your existence was not necessary…yet here we are...
Izumi sobbed, hands flying to her mouth, wide eyes that were already flooding with tears seeping through her widespread fingers. She wanted so badly to cover her eyes, but was unable to. Though brown eyes were wide and exposed, her sight wasn't. Except for the hatred and disgust in front of her.
Then they launched at her…grapping her arms, legs, yanking her hair, clawing her skin from her face, her neck, her stomach….She had screamed….Kept screaming, clawing, kicking, begging….too much, it was too much…Somebody was calling to her, but she couldn't hear them….and there was Itachi, watching with almost an bored look on his face in the middle of the red-hazed field…then Nine-tails in the background...
Itachi-kun?
Then he turned and walked away, not saying a word. He left her to be ripped apart in this hell. By her own father, once loving, now re-animated with hate and disgust toward his own child. Half-blood Uchiha child...
No…that made no sense….Her father would have no reason to see her that way. Only the Uchiha did. Which meant...
Not a real not real not real….Izumi had gritted her teeth, shutting her eyes that were flooded with hot tears and blood, not bearing to watch.
Bastard…mutt…stay down and make not a sound….
NO! Her eyes had burst open. The Sharingan blazed, fear and now rage collaborating. Then she screamed, a burst of power knocking the rising corpses out of the way.
One of her tomoe eyes, which each had a pair of comas, developed a extra from her pupil.
The vision had shattered. Noriro was in the dark candlit room, his flinty aged eyes red and slightly widened with surprise. But the nightmare seared into her memory. And the fear toward her great-uncle, and the use of genjutsu, increased.
Stop!
Itachi-kun, please stop!
...
At first Nemui didn't know where he was. HE didn't know how much time had passed…but too late did he realize the smaller shadow that slipped around the rear.
SLASH! There went the blade of a kunai across his throat before he could blink. Then, a few seconds later, a spray of blood from a line that had not been there before. With a gurgling hack, he vomited globs of blood, startled by the white-hot pain of the strike, which had been so quick that the effects left him suspended before unleashing all at once. His hand flew to his throat, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
It's…not…possible...
...
The image Itachi had started with was simple, but very effective, down to the very last detail. This illusion he conjured, he made into reality, shifting the cycle of foreplay so that it would replay in the enemy's mind.
Nemui died, his throat slashed in the dark…yet he was still aware that he was still alive, for he managed to once again open his eyes with a flinch and a flutter of his eyelids.
He would not sleep as soundly anymore. Itachi wasted no time. In an instant, his field of view was dyed a deeper red, and his gazed locked on the unfortunate victim of his genjutsu attack. Eye to eye...
.
.
.
…gouging into his stomach.
Repeatedly.
.
.
.
Each time he was killed, Nemui's sleep grew lighter...
.
.
.
Stabbed...
.
.
.
Pain.
.
.
.
Strangled...
.
.
.
More pain.
.
.
.
Beaten...
.
.
.
You cannot escape pain.
.
.
.
Poisoned...
.
.
.
Because it finds you eventually.
.
.
.
"Eeeack….ah…eee…eee…"
Itachi with his crimson gaze watched with fathomless indifference as his genjtsu took effect, killing the boy in every possible way. "It's pointless to struggle," he said hollowly as Nemui's body continued seizing up. "Life is pain. If you are unable to take on pain…"
Nemui, even in his panicked delirium, threw himself at Itachi in desperation with an outstretched hand. The latter merely stepped sideways, easily evading the more sluggish movements of the Kiri benin, which resembled more of a drunkard's stumbling than an actual strike, before getting tangled over his wobbled knees and tripping over.
"...then you might as well be dead," the Uchiha finished, looking down on his kneeling opponent.
Now wide-eyed and streaming with sweat, a whimper and sob escaped through clenched teeth, before next came the tears as Nemui started to break down. Watching the pathetic display with the curiosity of a scientist over an experiment, Itachi wondered if he should be feeling anything but pity for this poor soul.
"H…H…H-Help me…H-Help me…!" Groaning in supplication, it finally looked like Nemui couldn't sleep at all. If he closed his eyes, it could be fatal. After being subjected to brutal deaths over and over and over…Chest heaving between his sobs, verged on hyperventilation, Nemui trembled and shook hysterically as he began to weep loudly, fingers clawing at the dirt-covered ground like a rapid animal. "I-I don't want to die anymore! Idon'twannadiepleasehelpme…Help me, please…Please…" he blubbered in his groveling, his words almost indistinguishable between the coated mess of tears and mucus.
He was now completely ruled by his fear of the final sleep.
Irony can be cruel.
He only hoped that everyone was paying attention. He revealed his Sharingan, putting all the rumors and debates about his awakening to rest for those who were here to witness its use.
They will see what pain in this world has unleashed, and he was called Itachi Uchiha, a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf Village. The corner of his gaze finally flickered to the semi-circular audience above, from top to bottom.
At first, it seemed the spectators had no idea what was happening. At best, only a few people there had realized Itachi was using the Sharingan.
Half were intrigued, even delighted. The other half's faces were all sheet-white with horror, looking ready to be sick. And the whole time, Itachi hadn't once used a physical attack on him.
"Help me! I don't want to die! I don't wanna d-die! Help me…"
One of the watchers from the audience had actually gotten up, hopping across the seats, and bolted out of there with her hands placed over her mouth. It was Shinko. She must have come to watch him...
His eyes then stopped following his old teammate's retreating form when spotting from the crowd a set of brown hair standing up among the many seated attendants. He stiffened. Though small and too far away to truly distinguish, Itachi had a feeling he knew who it was…and the empty, hollow space he felt while mentally torturing Nemui's started to fill up and stir with feeling…and it was burning hot and cold, when his Sharingan eyes traced out the lone figure and realized for certain that it was her.
The look in her expression was so open with horror, her face white as a sheet, brown eyes dilated and pleading, that for the first time all day, Itachi started to feel ill himself. Her mouth was moving, barely forming. Words that only his dojutsu could translate from over a hundred feet away:
Stop…stop…Itachi-kun...
In the midst of Nemui's screams, Itachi was as still as a statue, his red-tomoe eyes blazing with suspended inscrutability that weighed heavily in the air. Then slowly, he turned his gaze back to the tortured genin at his feet.
"…Release."
.
Feet trembling, Izumi was still standing, her face sheet-white with trembling horror when she listened to Nemui's pleading, watched as Itachi stood there with the Sharingan, with no emotion whatsoever as he mentally tortured the boy….then somehow, his face was tilted in the direction of the audience...
In her direction. Even from the far-off distance, she could see the pin-prick ruby pair of Sharingan eyes, blazing in all their deadly beauty.
"Stop….stop…Itachi-kun…" she whimpered, so quietly it barely formed her lips.
It made her think of Norriro's visions. It made her think of Itachi's fight with Itsuke and her older cousins. But by the looks of Itachi's work…her great-uncle's vision were nothing compared to what this poor boy was now suffering. By the will of the boy she loved. It was too much to bear…
Why was he doing this? Why make the boy suffer even more when Itachi already won? She wanted to look away from this sickening display but she couldn't. This was the Sharingan's true display of power, and this wasn't even half of what this eye jutsu could be capable of. This was only a fraction of the secrets that her family branch guarded within the Uchiha. The pride of her clan. A true weapon. A burden in disguise as a blessing.
For what seemed like an eternity, their gazes met from across the field, brown eyes somehow meeting red. She could feel the waves of power radiating from the Sharingan, threatening to suck her into their depths. Something that both lured and frightened her to the core. A blackness threatened to cloud her mind, but she focused her present, struggling to control her trembling, remember to breathe, convince herself that this was Itachi….extend her heart to him…beg to Kami that he would understand that he was going too far...
Then, slowly, he started to turn back to Nemui...
"Itaci-kun…."
No more. Please…This is cruelty...
Then the world tilted, and the blackness swallowed her. The last thing she heard was Hana crying out her name.
.
Even when the examiner had stepped between them and announced the winner, not a single soul seemed to be paying attention. The area had fallen silent, except for Nemui's cries resonating the walls with mad terror, even though Itachi released the Sharingan's genjutsu. But it was already too late; the damage had already been done. Everyone seemed to be confused, and greatly disturbed, by the incomprehensible situation.
When he turned back to the audience, relocating Izumi, he found to his astonishment that she had disappeared from view. His feelings of superiority had vanished entirely.
Izumi…I...
Nemui wailed and wept, half-mad, right up until he disappeared, carried out in the examiner's arms. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" he cried over and over, the terror in his voice reaching into every nook and cranny of the arena, sending shivers up spines. Itachi watched them disappear down the tunnel, forgetting his Sharingan was still activated.
He would probably give up on being a ninja…that is, if he ever managed to regain his sanity first.
This was the level of fear Itachi had put into him. Ninja were the main cause of fighting in this world. One fewer ninja meant that much less fighting. Itachi hadn't been wrong to break Nemui's spirit so utterly and horribly.
Like he had intended for Izumi. But…when she saw him just now...
No, he thought to himself, trying to ignore the rise of revulsion he started to feel toward himself. I'm not wrong in this.
The venue felt the same. Itachi never wanted her to see this, but it was necessary. His intentions hadn't changed. He had demonstrated an incomprehensible power, and the ninja from all lands now knew his unfathomable strength. He had produced the aura of death though the entire arena with just the Sharingan alone.
We mustn't make an enemy of this boy…The message would spread like wildfire. The more people who received it, the less likely that Konoha would get dragged into battle. And his loved ones would be safe…even if they too would fear him for it.
Using the Sharingan to cast genjutsu was effective means of making his opponent see visions. But if he used this trick the right way, he could turn it into the famed genjutsu of suggestions on a large number of people like this.
It's all to rid the world of fighting...Itachi turned his back on the arena, now empty of Neumi and the examiner, and started walking.
Even Izumi will understand that. In time, once she recovered from seeing this, she may not agree with his methods, knowing her discomfort in genjutsu…
Then he remembered, and his gut clenched with horrified realization. Both Izumi and Shinko had been subjected to genjutsu torture…one by her own great-uncle, who was no doubt somewhere in the audience watching the event, and the other other by the masked shinobi. The same murderer whom Itachi had not forgotten since the day of the road massacre; the one he feared would come after his loved ones. That explained why Shinko left the moment she watched it happened, and when Izumi saw it…she too must have been thrown back towards her own traumatic experiences.
Neither one had told him what they had seen in their dreams. But then…Itachi had never asked, understanding that it was not something so easily shared.
Once he was out of the arena, the other contestants nearby parted, getting out his way as though in fear of being in next victim. They all avoided eye contact.
Ignoring them, he deactivated his Sharingan and kept going, quickening his pace. He hoped to find at least one of them, just to make sure they were okay, that he didn't cause them to replay their own traumas too much...
In the silence, he could hear someone clapping. Halting his steps, he lifted his head, and looked in the direction of the sound down the darkness of the tunnel leading the back of the arena from the audience.
A face, covered on the right side with bandages….A face he recognized, having last seen him in the Hokage's office, the day when Tenma and his sensei were murdered. Blocking his way.
"Danzo Shimura," Itachi murmured, careful to keep his expression neutrally detached.
A dark, twisted smile stretched out on Danzo's lips as he looked down at Itachi.