（ everything clicks into place. he'd always intended for kotoamatsukami to be used against his eyes — it just turned out it was more literally done than he could have accounted for when he died. there's something to be said for the irony in that — his one last desperate bid to forcibly tie sasuke's survival to the village, and instead he only succeeded in casting the geas on himself.
he's made peace with the knowledge that everything he had hoped to set in motion had failed long ago — but the confirmation would make him laugh if he were at all inclined to such a thing. instead, he simply reaches up and traces his fingers along the sharp bone of his cheek as if brushing away the errant fall of his bangs. amusement at his own tired folly can come later, in the staggering quiet of his own quarters, well away from one who should by all rights think him an enemy even now. nothing he's done has been so forgivable as that no matter what justification madara — no, obito — could have offered. does naruto even realize how many of his kindred spirits itachi and kisame hunted down together?
it was not so very long ago he reached into a boy's mind with the intent to break him. suddenly, naruto's lack of wariness is almost suffocating, and his gaze cuts away to study the shape of a pan someone left soaking in the stainless industrial sink. it is an act of will, that he does nothing cruel in that moment.
everything turned out fine in the end. he doesn't think that naruto has it within him to lie about something of that nature — though truthfully, what he doubts more is whether or not their ideas of fine are in alignment.
to the question about crows, he shakes his head. ）
I cannot use my summons here. You will find it is the same for you.
（ does he recognize that's maybe not the reassuring answer naruto might have been looking for?
probably.
but it's itachi, and there's a lot to process here. ）
no subject
he's made peace with the knowledge that everything he had hoped to set in motion had failed long ago — but the confirmation would make him laugh if he were at all inclined to such a thing. instead, he simply reaches up and traces his fingers along the sharp bone of his cheek as if brushing away the errant fall of his bangs. amusement at his own tired folly can come later, in the staggering quiet of his own quarters, well away from one who should by all rights think him an enemy even now. nothing he's done has been so forgivable as that no matter what justification madara — no, obito — could have offered. does naruto even realize how many of his kindred spirits itachi and kisame hunted down together?
it was not so very long ago he reached into a boy's mind with the intent to break him. suddenly, naruto's lack of wariness is almost suffocating, and his gaze cuts away to study the shape of a pan someone left soaking in the stainless industrial sink. it is an act of will, that he does nothing cruel in that moment.
everything turned out fine in the end. he doesn't think that naruto has it within him to lie about something of that nature — though truthfully, what he doubts more is whether or not their ideas of fine are in alignment.
to the question about crows, he shakes his head. ）
I cannot use my summons here. You will find it is the same for you.
（ does he recognize that's maybe not the reassuring answer naruto might have been looking for?
probably.
but it's itachi, and there's a lot to process here. ）
Sit. I will prepare you something to eat.
（ spoilers: not ramen. ）