Disclaimer. I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters mentioned.

Summary. It was his dark expressionless eyes giving way to a haunting grief that drew her in, and it was her dauntless approach, unforeseen but not unwelcomed that sparked his interest. Non-massacre.

A/N. I want to start off by saying that the title has nothing to do with the story. In fact, 'Be as one' is an ending theme of Fairy Tail that I really enjoy listening to it occasionally. When I was choosing a title, I felt that the lyrics seemed appropriate for our favourite pairing in this fic. If you are up for it, I would suggest listening to it as you read. But ultimately, the choice is all yours.

This story jumps quite a bit, in regards to time and setting so forgive me.

There are many more things I want to say, but mentioning them here would be unwelcoming for you readers wishing to remain unaware of certain aspects of the story until it actually happens. Therefore, I will include a longer note later, perhaps at the completion of Be As One.

The day his little brother came home with a sprained ankle was the day Itachi returned home from his weeklong mission, only to be greeted by a boisterous blond who professed irrefutably, his claim on the future position of Hokage, and the pink-haired child who possessed a thick book on the founding of Konohagakure in her backpack.

Mikoto had been in the kitchen, humming softly under her breath and slicing some tomatoes when a loud cry caught her attention.

In all her years as a mother, neither of her sons have ever brought friends home, and her knowledge on the subject extended only to the various names that were slipped into short conversations over the years. However, with Sasuke now spending majority of afternoons at the playground with the other children, there has been much grumbling about 'that loud-mouth dobe' and exasperated muttering of 'don't be so annoying!' That was why when her younger son came hobbling down the stretch to the Uchiha dwelling with his weight supported by two others, almost hazardously as they pitched dangerously to one side, Mikoto had let out an uncharacteristic squeal.

Pardon her. No, she had not just squealed at the sight of her son physically handicapped, but rather, her eyes had immediately picked up on the ease in which her little boy was in with the other two children.

While her youngest did have on the typical Uchiha scowl he had recently mastered after months of cutely scrunching up his face at the dinner table, much to the displeasure of his father, Mikoto could easily detect a few differences in his stance. One was the way he leaned into the others. It spoke of familiarity and if not, at least security in their presence and the absence of aggravation only made Lady Uchiha smile fondly from where she stood at the shoji door.

Only a second was needed to comprehend the blond boy with whisker marks praising his cheeks and the pale slim pinkette to be the Naruto and Sakura her little boy had frequently spoken of when he thought her too preoccupied to hear. While the pair did not seem to be children her son would choose to mingle with to Mikoto at first, she was more than happy with his progress in developing nicely into the areas of trust and bonds. If only she had more luck with her eldest. Her Itachi appeared disinclined to be in the company of others any more than necessary. At least he was not against associating with his older cousin, which no matter how long they have and would be in each other's company in the future, Mikoto failed to fathom as to why Itachi, cold and detached would affiliate himself with the anomaly of the Uchiha clan. It was a sibling thing then; both brothers were exactly the same.

By the time the trio neared, the Uchiha matriarch already had the icepack and first aid kit ready, seated neatly by the corner of the low table. She wasn't sure whether it was only a sprained ankle, or if it was more serious. Quietly debating whether to have Sasuke admitted into hospital after all, Mikoto sighed inaudibly at the thought of his subsequent reluctance and horror. She noted inwardly that Itachi was the same, albeit lacking the physical expression. Both her boys recoiled at the notion of coming within half a mile's radius to the medical amenity. Shaking her head ruefully, Mikoto rose at the sounds of sandals being discarded by the door.

Sasuke's face was almost sheepish when he greeted his mother politely. Good, at least his manners were still intact. She turned her attention to the two children on either side of him, each with her son's arm thrown over their shoulders. At their nervous expressions, Mikoto found her lips curling upward into a motherly smile. Instantly, they relaxed and returned the smile timidly before they were all ushered carefully into the Uchiha household.

With Sasuke seated and a cushion propping up his ankle, Mikoto reached for the icepack and wrapped it gently around the sprain. She suppressed an amused chuckle as three pairs of probing eyes followed her movements curiously. This must be the first time they've seen someone treat a sprained ankle.

Luckily, Mikoto had learned the basics of medical jutsu when she was a chuunin and her skills hadn't going too rusty since. She had no choice really. Her teammates brawled and fought incessantly, on and out of missions. One day, she finally had enough of carrying tussling teammates to the hospital and took it to herself to learn the art. She recalled the day two weeks later when three pairs of astonished eyes had also followed her movements, widening when the flesh knitted itself back under the warm glow of her chakra. Of course, it came without a doubt that having the sharingan in your arsenal quickened things up a bit.

"That's awesome, dattebayo!" A loud exclaim of amazement preceded the soft 'sugoi' that came from the child with emerald eyes when the Uchiha matriarch finished the job with some chakra healing. Even Sasuke couldn't stop his jaw slackening as he beheld the sight of his mother–his very much domesticated mother who he had never seen use the ninja arts–healing him with medical jutsu.

After bandaging the sprain as a precaution and stowing away the kit, Mikoto accompanied the children to Sasuke's room down the hallway. She smiled when the two children glanced around the manor and gaped at the different ornaments on display. They 'ohed' even at a pile of scrolls left by the table, and Mikoto found it absolutely endearing. How she wished her own two sons were less indifferent. It brought her a surge of exasperation at how Sasuke grew to increasingly resemble his older brother with every day, who he looked upon with unrivalled admiration and respect.

While Itachi did smile occasionally, however rare that may be, Mikoto noticed with rising concern that those fleeting windows to his emotions were quickly retreating into the cold and frigid shell he had developed over the years. She had seen the light fade from his eyes, and the two onyx orbs were now blank and inscrutable. The cause of this change went to none other than the clan's council. Now, at the tender age of eleven, the age of inquisitiveness and fit for spending time at the ninja academy, her son was an apathetic and skilled jounin going on reconnaissance missions, which could last up to months and all the while, preparing for the ANBU exams scheduled to be held in four months time.

Sasuke, on the other hand hoped to one day walk in the footsteps of his esteemed brother. While Itachi himself disapproved of his little brother's foolishness but had restrained from voicing his concerns, which would undoubtedly dishearten the other, the old aged councilmen were a different matter all together. Urging Fugaku to encourage his youngest to become as accomplished and renowned as his predecessor, the old bats schemed to produce a satisfactory backup, in case Itachi ever became indisposed and unable to lead the clan.

Despite the tragedy that seemed to befall the two brothers, they seemed to somehow find time for one another.

It became routine for Sasuke to watch the sun fade on the porch that over looked the path leading directly to the entrance to the compound, and for him to grin at the glimpse of his brother's silhouette approaching from afar. Restlessly waiting for him to arrive, Sasuke would leap up immediately and run the remaining distance. As he grew in both age and size, the younger merely stopped before the other with a smile, as opposed to before, when he hurled his whole body at the teen and into those wide arms that engulfed him warmly.

"Nii-san, will you train me later?" The habitual question was answered in the affirmative and with a forehead poke, bringing a pout to the recipient.

Mikoto smiled wistfully as she recalled standing by the shoji screen and catching the rare smiles Itachi would display then. Fugitive but sure, his face would light up as his dark eyes followed carefully after his little brother, whose short legs tripped one over the other up the footpath to the manor.

The blanket folded up to his chin, Sasuke directed a grumpy glare to the ceiling before turning back to regard the three faces by his bedside. His mother barely quelled the knowing smile threatening to dawn onto her features. Brothers, she sighed. How maddening.

"You must rest to heal, Sasuke-kun," she chided him gently, but her tone was stern and brooked no objections as she swept a hand over the top of his head, brushing aside his bangs.

"Hurry and get better, Sasuke! Ramen won't wait for ya, dattebayo!" At Naruto's input, Sasuke's serene features turned murderous. How dare the dobe imply I like ramen! An imaginary fist planted itself onto the blond's grinning face, conveying the thoughts of the other two – you're the only one who likes ramen!

Anticipating an argument to be underway, the rosette intervened. "Naruto, that's enough."

The blond's smile broadened, "If you say so, Sakura-chan!"

Turning back to her raven-haired friend, Sakura let a sincere smile grace her delicate features, "but Naruto's right. Get better soon, Sasuke-kun, so we can play together again."

With her hand grasped tightly onto Sasuke's, and Naruto moving to hold the other, an amiable atmosphere settled soothingly over the three children.

The matriarch felt her heart swell with overflowing fondness. Her throat was dry, and her eyes softened at the blatant display of friendship. Both her sons deserved more than this, more than what the clan had planned for the two brothers. Her hand was fisted, but before she let her fingers uncurl, Mikoto spared another glance at the three innocent children holding hands and resolved to do anything–anything at all for this bond to last until the end of their days.

Unwilling to intrude in their private moment any further, Mikoto made her way subtly to the door. But alas, she was unsuccessful in leaving without garnering the attention of the pink-haired child, who swerved her head towards her. The child caught her eye and smiled warmly, mouthing a soft thank you before the shoji door slid close. Alone, Mikoto let her composure go just this once and pressed her forehead lightly to the wooden screen of the door.

In the solace of the hallway and with the shadows masking her completely, the raven-haired mother wept silently for the children, her children, her shoulders quivering as the tears fell onto the wooden boards by her feet.

With their heartbeat in their ear, hidden in the dark and within the shadows was where every shinobi felt safe. Three figures flew through the enclosing forest, their tread light and brief without disrupting the night. Leaping over fallen logs and tree branches, they travelled in a triangular formation. With the moon high and its light illuminating parts of the road before them, the figures darted elegantly for their destination. Their pace did not waver, consistent and quick as the silence moved in on them. Emerging quietly from the vast greenery, the three shadows continued down the trodden path.

Shiranui Genma let a grin surface, the senbon in his mouth pointed down as the feeling of relief that came with the completion of a mission settled in. Their diplomatic mission in Mist went well, better than they had initially expected. In fact, it was the courtesy of their captain that the mission had been such a success. His brown eyes darting to his right where his captain was sprinting ahead, the jounin did not bother concealing his amusement. Blank eyes slid unhurriedly to meet his, and his lip trembled in an effort to rein in his chuckles.

Their captain, eight years his junior and also an emotionally stunted oddity had been nothing less than accosted and promptly harried by dozens of female, from toddlers holding their guardian's hands to old ladies selling fruit in the duration of their stay. Luckily for them (and unluckily for the stoic Uchiha), one of his admirers had been the beloved granddaughter of the Mizukage. Obliged to accompany the chatty fangirl everywhere she went, Itachi ignored the looks of pity and mirth his cousin and Genma sent in his way when they thought he was distracted. Though the impassive teen acted every bit of a gentleman, the occasional sighs, which were gone unnoticed, hinted his displeasure.

As it was, it was solely due to the perseverance of the Uchiha heir that the mission was completed in such a short amount of time.

Pushing off a boulder with a little more force, Genma quickened his strides as his other two companions pressed ahead. When the familiar sight of the village gate appeared in the distance, the jounin sighed, with sake and sleep in his thoughts. It was tough, going on a mission with two Uchihas, especially when one was Shisui of the Body Flicker and the other was the famous Uchiha prodigy.

When their captain finally slowed to a walk, it was to greet the two guards, Izumo and Kotetsu and to sign in. "Shisui, Genma." At his low voice, two pair looked towards their captain as the latter penned their names neatly on the sheet of paper. Laying down the pen and nodding to his fellow shinobis, Itachi turned to his team.

"I will report to the Sandaime. You two should go home and rest." His tone was flat, but not completely impassive. "We will meet at noon. Training ground three."

Both bearing matching grins, Shisui and Genma nodded as they revelled in the thought of not having to get up until noon tomorrow. The exuberant Uchiha slung an arm lazily over his baby cousin's shoulders and whispered teasingly, "spending some time with baby Sasuke?"

Though there was no outward response to his proposition, Shisui knew he had hit it right on the mark when those obsidian orbs flickered ever so slightly. He grinned and waving a dismissive hand, sighed dramatically.

"You leave me no choice then, Itachi-kun. I'll just have to report to the old man now and send you off to sleep."

His cousin looked ready to pull rank on him when–thankfully, and about time too!–Genma suggested that he should be the one to go, considering the Uchiha compound was on the other side of the village, whereas his apartment was on the way to the Hokage tower. Without giving them a choice in the matter, Genma had bounded onto the roof of a nearby building and headed off in the direction leading to the Hokage's office. Left by the village gate, the two cousins turned and together, made their way to the compound.

It was almost three in the morning when Itachi unlocked his window and slipped into his room. Moonlight spilled into his bare room, which was devoid of any personal possessions as the Uchiha padded silently into the adjoining bathroom. Twisting the tap open and letting the steady flow of water escape, Itachi leaned down and cupped the coolness in his palms. The muted sigh disclosed his satisfaction and the refreshing moisture on the tired lines on his face was heavenly. Soaking up the excess water with a dry towel, the teen retraced his steps and took off his gear. His exhaustion was clear in the deep lines under his dark eyes.

His clan's expectations for their heir were becoming more ambitious, and their superficial concern for his wellbeing was almost palpable. They urged Itachi to attend all clan meetings, as well as the monthly events and gatherings. No clever manoeuvres or straightforward refusals could deter the unrelenting councilmen for long, so there was only one solution–missions.

Volunteering his team for missions outside the village and himself for solo assignments in tracking missing-nins, Itachi knew it would not be long before they caught on and actively came looking for him. Even though his father had done all he could to hold back the council in their quest to mould Itachi into a stone-hearted and collected ANBU operative, and soon after, onto the pathway to kagehood, the clan would keep demanding for more, and their thirst for power would never be quenched completely.

As clan heir, Itachi must do something about this matter. Bringing it up to the council was beyond foolish. Perhaps he should confer the Hokage on this development and together, come up with a solution. Itachi knew that what he chose would cement where his loyalties lay forever, and his clan would never forgive him should he choose the village over his kin. The consequences would be dire: the Uchiha clan ostracised by the rest of Konoha, and bitter glares shadowing their revoked heir, eyeing him with distrust and disgust.

But wouldn't this be a small price to pay for the wellbeing of his family and his village?

Itachi slipped under his futon, his eyes heavy with the inclination to rest. He forced his mind to banish the thoughts plaguing him, at least until the morning. He would be more coherent then, and perhaps a solution to all his problems would come to him over his morning meal as he indulged in his mother's excellent cooking. But for now, he must rest. His body was still growing and sufficient sleep was necessary for his growth. His eyes slipping shut in the still darkness, sleep came to him quickly as his chest rose and fell with even breaths.

...

When morning came, bright and blinding, the Uchiha woke to the sounds of muffled voices in the kitchen. Running a hand through his silken locks, Itachi grimaced at the grime that coated his fingers. Rising to his feet, he retrieved the pile of clothes by his table and entered his bathroom with the sole purpose of cleansing himself from all the filth that had accumulated on his mission. He should have showered when he returned early that morning but he did not wish to wake his family with the running water. Sighing as he recalled how persistent dirt and mud could be, Itachi readied himself for a long bout of washing and scrubbing.

He descended the stairs to the passageway fifteen minutes later, dressed in standard black shinobi pants and a navy blue shirt with the Uchiha insignia printed on the back. He had tied his hair at the nape even though it was still wet, but his feet were bare as they made their way soundlessly to the kitchen. With each step, the muffled voices grew to discernible tones and casual chatter. Itachi recognised his mother's voice as it rang clearly, unrestrained by the cages made to smother the songs of lyrebirds, and it brought an uncharacteristic smile to his face. At his wife's relaxed tenor, Fugaku folded away his mission scroll and gave his undivided attention to the meal the matriarch had served.

A spirited yell was swallowed by the clinks of utensils and the sound of someone wolfing down their food with undisguised appreciation.

"Naruto!" A voice, distinctly female hissed in chagrin, before a loud thump followed. "Where are your manners?!"

"You hit hard Sakura-chan …" Itachi assumed the one who answered to be 'Naruto.' There was a huff of indignation and a bashful apology was offered. "Gomen, Mikoto-san."

Itachi knew that his mother must have been smiling at his quick honesty without reserve by now. "That's alright, Naruto-kun." Feet shuffling, and then, "eat as much as you want."

"YATTA!"

Itachi stopped by the hallway, just out of sight of the occupants in the kitchen. By their light tones, they must be children younger than him. They were probably his little brother's age, as it would be the most logical reason for them to be here in the Uchiha compound. Speaking of which, where was his little brother?

His inner musing was to be remedied in a moment's time, with the hesitant voice that broke his reverie.

"Nii-san?"

Itachi turned to fully face his younger sibling, and watched as those dusky orbs widened and a broad smile lit up the fledging's face. Sasuke tried to walk normally, but as he favoured his tender left foot, he limped towards where his brother stood. A frown marred his older brother's features, and Sasuke smiled reassuringly.

"I… accidentally sprained my ankle."

Reaching down to poke his brother in the centre of the forehead, Itachi fought for the right words. He did not wish to make his brother feel embarrassed, nor did he wish for a repeat of the same incident.

"Be more careful," his tone was soft and seemingly offhanded, but nevertheless, Sasuke took it solemnly and nodded once. Then, his eyes flickering uncertainly to the direction of the kitchen, Sasuke dithered.

"I…" Clearing his voice at Itachi's raised brow, Sasuke tried again, "I want you to meet my friends, nii-san."

Inclining his head in consent, Itachi waited for his brother to move past him before following. When the other looked unsure on his feet, Itachi placed a supportive hand atop his brother's raven spikes. To this, Sasuke felt his spirits lift.

...

The conversing came to a halt when the two brothers made their presence known. The first to notice them was their dutiful mother, who smiled at the return of her eldest. She took a moment to sweep her eyes over his body for any injuries he may have sustained, knowing all too well that her son would never instinctively pay a medic-nin or the hospital a visit. Finding none, Mikoto resumed plating up the food.

Only Naruto offered a curious glance to the duo, for the Uchiha patriarch had quickly returned to his scroll moments after their appearance and Sakura had stilled with the arrival of the boy standing calmly next to her raven head friend. She felt her young heart leap at the sight of the same boy from the markets, who she now noted, could only be Sasuke's older brother.

The grip on her chopsticks loosened. There was no question about it. It was only a mere glimpse; a ghost of a silhouette but her emerald eyes had taken notice of all the minute details. Those placid eyes that never wavered, the ashen shaded skin contrasting the long ebony hair that fell past his shoulders and his slender fingers poised in a light grasp as they held the ripening peach. Beside him, the storekeeper had rattled on about the guaranteed sweetness of the fruit, but it appeared to fall onto deaf ears, as the shinobi gave no indication that he was listening. The teen examined the fruit with a meticulous eye, turning it to the side to survey it further before slipping a hand into his pocket and taking out a few coins. When his customer requested for several more, the shopkeeper threw in more peaches with delight.

Her intrigue for the onyx haired teen would not have been should she have remained unknowing of what was to happen next. With the extra coins jingling in his pocket, the shopkeeper had been eager to get on with business. He had spun back, unperceptive to the old lady behind him and his sudden movement knocked away the coral apples from her frail hands. With a soft 'oh,' the grey-haired elder could only watch as her apples rolled away from her, and towards a pair of inky boots. Reaching down for her fallen fruits, she did not anticipate her knees to give into her weight and Sakura panicked when the old lady pitched forward. A pale hand shot out to break her fall, and grasping the delicate elbow of the elder, helped steer her up. After steadying the old lady, the teen had scooped up the fruits swiftly before returning them with a small smile to its owner.

The teen then turned to advise the dealer to be more careful next time before rustling brought him back to the elder rummaging through her grocery. Taking out a couple of tomatoes, she extended them to him with a toothless smile. Sakura watched from a distance as he declined politely, but at last gave in to her tenacity.

"There aren't many boys like you out there, dear," she rasped. The lady had hobbled off not long after.

Sakura had turned away then, stepping beside her mother as they resumed their grocery shopping. That should have been the end of it, but it wouldn't be. She would not have remembered him but for the brief look that surfaced his blank eyes as he regarded the tomatoes in his hands.

It had been filled with such raw agonising pain, and a sadness so vast that she became lost in it ever since.

Now at the sight of him and with the knowledge that the same torment she had witnessed still lingered underneath those unyielding orbs, Sakura couldn't stop her memories and feelings from rushing back. What could possibly be the source for such profound sorrow, so haunting and real that her heart squeezed every time she was reminded of those indifferent eyes?

Breathing carefully through her nose, the pink-haired child stopped her thoughts from diverting any further. Picking up her chopsticks, she forced herself to chew on the piece of meat coated lightly with soy sauce and she refused to peel her eyes away from the spot on the table she had resorted to stare at.

She didn't succeed though when she unconsciously whacked Naruto in the back of the head for voicing his thoughts without filtering it.

"Is he teme's brother?"

Itachi perceived the edgy silence ending when the rosette moved to physically reprimand the blond beside her. Her short pink tresses whipped at her face when she whirled around in anger, "manners, Naruto-baka!"

Naruto nursed at the sore spot, groaning softly. That was the second time Sakura-chan had hit him today!

"That's the dobe," Sasuke sought to get the introductions over quickly as he announced the blond with a slight tinge of irritation. "And that's Sakura," he gestured to the other and proceeded to retreat back into silence. Itachi noticed his brother's restlessness dimly before he realised that he was awaiting Itachi's approval.

Sighing softly at the lively morning, Itachi seated himself on the other side of his father, opposite of the pinkette and began to eat quietly. He needed to rectify his brother's dependence of his opinion. Sasuke joined him soon, brooding over Itachi's unresponsive nature and failing to decide whether he was consenting to his choice of friends, or otherwise.

"There's a clan meeting this afternoon," his father began from where he sat at the head of the table. "Will you be attending?"

Itachi did not look up from his meal. "Hn." 'No.'

Fugaku grunted, but did not press the issue.

Lifting a hand to tug off the hair tie and letting tresses of his unbound locks to fall freely over his shoulders, Itachi was unaware of emerald eyes widening. He looked up to see them flicker away, and its owner spooning some tofu and then depositing them into his little brother's bowl.

"Tofu is rich in phosphorous, which helps your sprain to heal," she murmured before resuming her meal. But Itachi did not hear anything she had said, for he stiffened the moment she leaned across the table.

The whiff of peaches was nostalgic of the encounter that took place in the deserted dell when he was nine.

He remembered her from two years ago, when he first came across the innocent yet inquisitive pink-haired child. Or rather, when the rosette with the shy smile stumbled onto his usual training grounds.

It had been on the fringe of the Uchiha compound, where the dusty clearing dipped into the thick foliage of the Konoha forest. He had been resting with his back against the sturdy trunk of an aging tree, whose impenetrable branches and prolific leaves wove intimately to provide sufficient shade for the shinobi to delve cosily in. The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the fading horizon when Itachi finished the last of his katas, and only his austere upbringing stopped him from groaning audibly as the exhaustion settled in, deep and draining. As he retrieved his weapons, kunais and shurikens amongst the scattered senbons, the chuunin deemed it adequate to return to the compound at his leisure and gave an inward nod at the conclusion.

He had informed his mother of his decision in setting aside his afternoons to train, thus resulting in, more often than not, his unpunctuality for their familial dinner meals. Despite having made chuunin not three months ago, the clan councilmen have already expressed their… desire for the Uchiha heir to continue up the ranks with ushered haste, much to his father's frustration. Mikoto had not uttered a single word of complaint during the deliverance of the clan's wishes, merely performing her duty as the Uchiha matriarch with detached civility, even though her disapproval was made progressively clear with every involuntary twitch of a brow.

He had succumbed to the tiresome nature of his intensive training, which had taken up all morning and persisting into most of the afternoon. With his legs stretched out comfortably before him and with disregard to the uneven surface of his support, Itachi reclined into the erect tree. The sky dyed in hues of crimson and marigold, his ebony hair fluttering with the gust of wind blowing from the west. Itachi tilted his head back, and breathed out a soft sigh. His eyes, dark and almost inexpressive slipped shut as the ends of his hair tickled his cheeks.

Before long, he had drifted asleep with the sound of gentle lapping in his ears. As the rhythmic flow of the stream trickled steadily downhill, the Uchiha's strained features softened ever so slightly. No visions of devastating warfare, or of frivolous courtships filled his dreamless mind. It was simply quiet, not a whisper to be heard over the deafening silence that consumed any levity that lingered. He did not know how long he was inert, for it seemed not a few moments had gone by before his senses pricked, warning him of the approach of an unknown presence.

The instinct that has been drilled into every generation of shinobi whenever they encounter an unexpected occurrence was to first assess the situation, which found Itachi doing the same. The rustling of faraway leaves faded into the wind and the forest was hushed once more. Another would have lowered their guard after the silence pressed on for several minutes, but being competent and thorough in everything he did, Itachi waited for the indication that he was indeed up against an enemy-nin.

He kept very still, the sound of his breathing discernible only to him. He appeared to be deep in slumber, with his eyes tightly shut and to a civilian passing by, he may have well been. Though in fact, his body was tensed and ready to pounce, or flee at a moment's notice. Different scenarios ran through his head, and as each thought caught up to him, he felt his chakra pulsing through his body at a subdued rate.

Training unaccompanied was always a risk. Should an enemy decide to make himself known, he would undoubtedly be drawn into battle with a half-emptied bucket. If he chose to flee, his opponent would ultimately give chase, and leading a foreign nin to Konoha would be hazardous.

Letting his senses scope and envelop the surrounding, Itachi patiently waited. He was not to be disappointed, for the sounds of branches being evaded and brisk hopping soon made themselves known to him.

Itachi had been reaching for the kunai hidden under his belt when he paused midway, brow knitted. Hopping?

He had no time to ponder when something small sprung from amidst the bushes and headed straight for him. By then, his eyes had snapped open and he watched as the animal, having sensed his presence, halted abruptly in the middle of the clearing. A silent staring contest was well under way until it stood on its hind legs, pointed its puny nose into the air and wrinkled it experimentally. Itachi took this opportunity to observe the creature carefully. One glance informed him that this creature was a bunny, or a related species, most likely an untamed one, going by the lack of collar. Its chestnut fur was decorated with light flecks of golden ivory, making it easy for the Uchiha to make out its features from a distance.

Itachi remained unmoving when the bunny cocked its head to the side, gazing at him curiously with its moonless eyes. As if dismissing him as a threat, the bunny sat back down after a short while, and proceeded to nibble deftly on a blade of grass. Itachi blinked, intrigued. Was it… ignoring him?

It must be, he decided after a heartbeat. It seemed… at ease in his presence, which was something that has never happened before. Animals have always been wary of him, turning on their heels almost immediately once they became aware of him. Perhaps it was the intimidating aura that cloaked the Uchiha prodigy, or either it was due to the aloof demeanour that he exuded almost unconsciously.

Animals tended to steer clear of Itachi. Only the courageous ones lingered near, possibly waiting for some change that would ultimately convince them that the ninja was safe to approach. In the end, they all went away, none at all dejected. While he was, to an extent saddened by this particular circumstance (which inevitably meant that having nin-dogs as a future companion was a definite no-no for him), he had come to accept this fact over the years. No amount of coaxing or bribing has ever delivered favourable results, so it came as surprise when this petite-sized bunny, no bigger than a domestic-sized kitten settled sedately in his presence.

However, the trance was broken when its whole body stiffened minutely. Its ears perking up, the bunny listened for the telltale racket of menace. Itachi had just picked up on the slight susurrus of the forest when the bunny turned and bolted without forewarning. Itachi did not impress upon one to be at all outwardly nonplussed when the creature disappeared into the dense shrubbery and was gone without a trace. It was only when he dwelled on the possible causes for the bunny's abrupt departure that he heard it.

He hadn't known what had compelled him to do it, and for years the reason would not dawn on the Uchiha, baffling him beyond what he normally supposed as acceptable. But for now, his eyes would slowly slide shut with the approach of tentative footsteps.

Light, fumbling footfalls.

Soft, curious and uncoordinated.

A child.

"Usa-chan?" The voice was faint, and clearly feminine, with a hint of slight dismay. The footsteps grew in volume as its originator wandered closer, and Itachi noted with realisation that the bunny that had been present merely moments ago must be "usa-chan."

Without further ado, Itachi had managed to connect the dots, so to speak, of the events leading up to this point. The child had probably been occupied elsewhere when the appearance of the small and delicate animal diverted her attention. The bunny, having piqued the interest of the young child, had fled swiftly when the latter exhibited signs of entertaining herself with it. And somehow, the chase had led the pair to his training grounds. Assuming the child to have been at the playground, it would have been a considerable distance to chance upon this clearing, which was situated on the opposite side of the village.

Itachi was surprised she hadn't gone astray. It required a level of skill to navigate through the lush uncultivated forest, and for a child to do so impressed upon him. A prior check on her chakra levels related to him of her civilian background.

The sound of a body emerging from the undergrowth was apprehended, and a touch curious as to whom those footfalls belonged to, Itachi moderated his breathing with ease and feigned sleep. Dimly, he heard the light shuffling of shoes along the stony terrain come closer, toward where he was positioned against a tree. She stopped two feet away, and uncertainty permeated the air. There was a sharp intake of breath, so soft that it would have gone unnoticed if Itachi had not been attuned to the various expressions of the body.

The young prodigy felt, rather than heard the hesitant squeeze of the other's fingers on her upper arm. Then, she closed the distance between them and was not two inches away when she knelt by his side. At this, Itachi forced himself not to wrap his fingers around her neck and snap it cleanly with the uncalled for invasion of his personal space.

The scent of peaches wafted his senses when she leaned closer, and her breath fanned across his cheek. Through his closed lids, Itachi glimpsed her silhouette blocking the residues of the declining sunlight. The hand palming his stomach twitched minutely. Perhaps he should have left when he became aware of a nearing presence, and he would have been long gone by the time she came upon the recently vacated grounds.

Momentarily engaged in the world of would-be's, Itachi only vacantly heard the rustle of fabric before something cool was applied onto his cheek. Salve, he noted duly when the wound stung slightly. It came to him a little later that he must have cut himself with a kunai when he was practicing earlier on, with his attempt to identify and neutralise the blind spots of the sharingan.

A million thoughts intruded his chaotic mind when the tips of her fingers lifted and shifted away to the cut that marred his other cheek. Her dainty fingers, uncalloused and smooth were gentle on his skin. When the child had approached him, Itachi couldn't halt the wave of puzzlement that washed over him as no child has ever voluntarily approached him without ill-intentions, barring his little brother whose brooding self gave way to unparalleled joy when his elder sibling was present. He mostly kept away from the village children, for they saw him as an ordinary adult, and with the unfazed stern face, it should not be unexpected. In his clan, the boys often congregated in groups and when Itachi walked towards their general direction, they would cease their whispers and stammer a polite greeting before hurrying away. As for the girls… Itachi mentally sighed. During the days he was exempt from missions and clan affairs, there would always be a succession of girls, some older and some younger than him who trailed his footsteps, from sunrise to sundown should he decline throwing them off. Thus were the reasons why Itachi was unacquainted to the concepts of friendship and bonding, and why he grew wary with the arrival of the civilian child.

Her boldness intrigued him in a way. To the shinobi of his village, Itachi was a somewhat withdrawn individual. Yes, he was merely a child, but he was also a genius climbing the ranks in quick progression. With unprecedented potential, one may argue, he had the capacity to become something of remarkability in the near future. In response to his apparent advantage in possessing one of Konoha's prided blood limits, fellow ninja of the same age grew spiteful of his supposedly egotistic and insufferable arrogance. They didn't bother to befriend him and to understand his intentions, deeming him as such without giving much thought of it potentially being an untruth. For a civilian child to approach him, and without a hint of fear of the repercussions, proceed to treat his wounds, no matter how minor and non-life threatening they were was unfamiliar to the Uchiha heir. It gave him hope, a small spark of warmth within him of the innocence and unworldly eyes that hasn't yet perished from existence, despite the seasoned nature of the shinobi.

It was only later when the pads of her fingers, light on his skin, receded with the flurry of wind did onyx eyes slip open slowly. The darkened sky, starless and quiet looked down upon him and he glanced away, just to see rose pink dance away into the verdure.