Weeping Samurai | Uchiha Itachi [Editing]

Chapter 12: Identity

I do not own any Naruto characters or settings.  I only own my OC, Musei Shiro.

Warning: This chapter contains vivid descriptions of blood and violence.

I hope you enjoy the story of Shiro, the Weeping Samurai of the Land of Iron!

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Shiro blinked her heavy eyes in the blinding white light, scrunching her pale face in annoyance as her vision blanked out for a few seconds. She felt a warm hand pressing against the small of her back, and under her cheek was a solid but also warm surface. Her slender, pale hand shifted, her fingers grabbing a handful of cloth, as she fluttered her eyelids open once more to focus her blurred vision.

Itachi lay sleeping under her, and for the first time, she saw his smooth face clear from any pain that was inflicted upon him in this world. His chest rose and fell softly, Shiro's hand still pressed against his body, and his lips, parted ever so slightly, let out a calming sigh. Shiro flicked her eyes back down to her own self, staring blankly at her hand that laid atop his chest; her head rested on his shoulder while her body curled up against his side.

She started to shift, trailing her fingers across his slumbering body, before a soft hiss interrupted her actions.

“Oi!” Kisame grunted in front of her. Shiro could barely make out his silhouette, his physique outlined by the rising morning sun.

“Nani? (What?)” Shiro blinked her eyes.

“It's rare that Itachi-san can sleep this well,” the large shinobi nodded to his partner. “It's best to let him rest while he can.”

Shiro's attention wandered back to Itachi, his head tilted to the side as he rested his cheek on the top of her head; she shivered as she could feel his hot breath escaping his lips and seeping into her hair.

“Alright,” Shiro sighed, nuzzling her cheek into the crook of his neck. “I'll let him sleep.”

Kisame let out a soft chuckle as he continued to sit across the two teammates. Shiro blinked her eyes closed and took a deep breath, listening to the sound of Itachi's breathing and once again falling into the empty space of sleep.

It only felt like a few seconds when she felt Itachi stir from beneath her. Shiro fluttered her eyes open again, shifting her body only to feel the frighteningly cold stone floor kiss her thin, pale legs. That iciness transported her mind into another world; a world full of pain and suffering. She relived the hostility she had endured in that one fated village on that inevitable winter day; the afternoon with the three boys, taunting and pushing her around like she was some vermin; and perhaps she was, as useless and weak as she was back then, her hollow face may have portrayed a skeletal beast sulking in the darkness of the alleys.

Her wince made Itachi tense up, his strong arm wrapping itself protectively over her torso.

“Shiro-san?” he questioned, a hint of worry dappling his warm tone.

Shiro sucked in a sharp breath, only to close her eyes calmly once more, replying in a collected manner.

“I'm alright. I'm just hungry.”

Itachi laid there for a second before leaning his face down to touch his lips into her soft white hair. His sigh brought an unearthly spread of warmth upon her chilled scalp, her body sent in a series of relentless but soothing shivers.

“There should be a village not too far from here,” Itachi murmured softly as he blinked. “We can stop by there to get something to eat.”

“Sounds great,” Shiro whispered, sitting up and breaking Itachi's embrace.