WANTED: Itachi Uchiha

Ni

Even amongst chaos there is usually a moment of calm - the eye of the storm. That brief moment of placid clarity. Amidst the cries of his teammate and the stoic orders of the surrounding medical ninja, Itachi was eerily calm. He and Death went way back. Kindred spirits. Afterall he had delivered many a person to Death's door, laying their broken body at their feet. He was a human shinigami. A reaper in his own right. 

He was of no use here, simply in the way. 

Itachi found himself wandering about the hospital, aimlessly walking away from the ruckus of the emergency room. The further he ventured the quieter the halls became. The buzz that had once propelled him on the mission was now nothing more than a gentle murmur. Gradually his muscles unwound and became slack at his sides.

Kami he was tired. 

The night staff were the only people haunting the hallways, they paid no mind to him, they were used to seeing blood drenched individuals this time of night. The only other sounds were the occasional beep of monitors and the soft exhale of ventilators. Oddly enough the sounds were soothing, in a monotonous kind of way. 

A nearby bench beckoned him. He hadn't realised how tired he was until he took the weight off of his feet. Ten minutes. That's all he'd close his eyes for. Then he'd check on his teammate and go home to wash the blood and guts from his hair. 

When Itachi awoke he was no longer alone. Someone sat beside him their crossed legs occupied by a scroll. He glanced from the corner of his eyes to find Reina Hitori reading. 

"How long have I been asleep?" He asked, sitting up from his slouched position, his mouth fuzzy and stale. 

"Umm around an hour? People kept thinking you were dead so I decided to sit beside you so they'd stop calling a code." Reina replied, not taking her eyes off of the scroll. "In their defence you do kind of look dead, all bloody and slumped over. No offence."

"None taken." Itachi murmured, knowing all too well how he looked - and how he probably smelled. 

"You should head home. Your friend is stable for the time being. They moved him down the hall, second room on the right." Reina said, looking up from her scroll. Her eyes were dull, not their usual lustrous gold. It was as though the sunshine had been sucked out of her. Itachi nodded, trying not to stare at her dilapidated state. 

"Tell your Mother, thank you again for the bento box. I really appreciate it." Reina smiled, the gesture barely a gesture; she unfolded her legs and bowed. "See you around, Itachi-san."

"Mm, I will." Itachi had no clue what she was on about, or why she was even hanging around the hospital at such a time - in doctor's scrubs no less. He didn't ask. It wasn't his place to pry. 

Instead he hoisted himself up and checked on his teammate. His vitals were holding steady despite his abdomen being packed with gauze and a clear bandage to keep the remainder of his intestines in the abdominal cavity. The likelihood was the doctors were waiting to see if he would survive the night before they operated. 

No point wasting resources on a dead man. 

Satisfied, Itachi headed back down the corridor when a light caught his eye. In a small side room, tucked away, Itachi finally understood why Reina was in the hospital. 

Tomo was dying. And Reina refused to leave her side. 

°°°

The journey home was quick and painless. The Uchiha Compound was dead, the only activity being stray cats sneaking in between the lights of the street lamps. Itachi never used the front door when returning home from a mission, however didn't want his mother to see him all gored up. He knew she wouldn't judge. It was his job after all. He simply didn't want his mother to see him, her son, for what he was - a killer. 

Instead he entered through his bedroom window, the latch was well oiled and didn't betray his arrival; whereas as the front door occasionally squeaked when it slid along the runners. Itachi left his katana in its usual place beside his bed, dumping his soiled ANBU uniform in a laundry bag to take back to the base in the morning. 

As with any Uchiha, Itachi took his showers piping hot, on the verge of boiling. Despite the temperature he couldn't feel the heat of the water, merely the thump as it hit his skin. He watched idly as the water immediately began to bleed, crimson swirling down the drain in a seemingly endless vortex. He scrubbed himself raw. Between the scalding water and his incessant scrubbing, Itachi was equally as red as when he entered the shower. 

He never felt clean though. 

Regardless of how many showers he took, or how many times he visited the local onsen, Itachi never felt truly clean. He felt tainted. Marked. As though he were still wearing the blood of his enemies. In a sense he was. He would never truly be rid of them. They would be a permanent part of him. Even if it was just their metaphorical blood that clung to his hands. It was inked in his pores, much like his ANBU tattoo. 

They would be with him forever. 

And that terrified him.