Weeping Samurai | Uchiha Itachi [Editing]

Chapter 18: A Silent Plea

I do no own any Naruto characters or settings.  I only own my OC, Musei Shiro.

I hope you enjoy this nostalgic chapter of Shiro, the Weeping Samurai of the Land of Iron!

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She could remember the snow, swirling and dancing like little white birds, soaring through the dark gray skies only to float gently back down, propelled by the chilling wind that breathed from the east.  A little girl stood in the middle of it all, her long glowing white hair waving in the frost as if it were elongated strands of the ice itself.  She stood there, with her back turned towards her, a pair of white katana clutched in the two tiny pale hands folded behind her back.

From the fog of the blizzard arose another figure, another little girl, but her hair black as midnight.  It stuck out of the frigid snow like a raven's feather, glossy and gleaming in an icy undertone of indigo.  Her pale arms were crossed in front of her smaller figure, her back still turned towards her.  She gazed to the side though, her little head tilted up as she admired her elder sister.

Shiro gasped, widening her eyes as she was launched back into reality.

She sat up in her spot, inhaling a deep breath as loudly as her lungs could project.  The gasp echoed through the tunnel, bouncing off the cold walls and reverberating out into the yellow light that looked to be the exit of demise.

The bright light blinded her, groaning and shielding her eyes with a weak hand as she awoke from her seemingly endless sleep.

Where was she?

"I see you've decided to wake up, Shiro-san," a familiar voice called from the large beam of light.  The sound echoed through the harsh tunnel, bouncing off the metallic rounded walls to fade off slowly in the distance behind her.

Shiro blinked her eyes a few more times, squinting them as she tried to focus her gaze onto the sphere of brightness.

"I...Itachi-san...?"

"It's about time," the ninja responded indifferently.  "I thought you had actually died early."

A shadow emerged from the middle of the circle of light, Shiro's graying eyes now focusing more on the scenery around her.

It seemed she was in a sort of iron tunnel, the steel walls covering her from the sun that blared its rays outside with the vibrant yellow light.  The coldness inside definitely contrasted with the warm air that breathed in from the outside, tingling her frigid skin as though it were being defrosted.  Shiro narrowed her graying eyes, dull and no longer filled with the fire that had once enveloped them.  Still, she was fighting, and this wasn't going to end until she got to see her sister again.

"I'm not dying yet," she murmured softly, flickering her lifeless eyes away from Itachi.

The shinobi blinked, sighing as he hid his pale face behind the tall dark collar of his robe.  Without saying a single word, he reached into the depths of his cloak and unveiled the two blinding white sheaths that meant so much to Shiro.  He held them out to her, to which she took them with a hesitant and trembling hand.

"A-arigato..." she whispered.

Itachi stared at her with a dark gaze, an unreadable expression of some emotion glinting in his charcoal eyes.

"How do you feel?"

Shiro huffed gently, rubbing her temples in her long pale fingers, bony as a skeleton's.

"Terrible," she sighed with frustration.  She closed her eyes as her slender hands massaged her throbbing head; she could feel the iciness of the white Chakra coursing through her hollow veins, wrapping its cold talons over what was left of her conscience.  "How long was I unconscious for?"