[closed] it took all the man in me

[anbu]

Who: Itachi Uchiha and various.
When: Aereuer 13th.
Where: Looking-Glass House.
What: Memory sharing event.
Warnings: Mass death/genocide, war themes, gore, violence, trauma, child soldiers, very sad but cute brothers. I'll update if/as other things come up.





[To the vast majority of the Mirrorbound who cross its path, Itachi's mirror is plain and unassuming, its silver surface set into a black wooden frame. They will notice complicated carvings, some strange cross between Japanese calligraphy and other, indecipherable symbols unlike language. There are only two distinct images: the first is located on the upper left corner of the mirror and features an avian animal with beady, jewel-like red eyes; the second is located on the bottom right corner and features a pinwheel design. If further investigated, it'll become obvious the mirror also carries a burnt scent, as if the wood has recently been charred by fire.

Sasuke will see a much more detailed and familiar frame. The faces of their parents; the face of Uchiha Shisui; the Mangekyou Sharingan set within the shape of an actual eyeball; Akatsuki clouds; and the Uchiha fan directly beside the leaf's symbol of Konoha. It takes no guesswork to understand who this mirror is meant to represent.]

—

[OOC: Due to this event being exposition-heavy, scene specific, and intense (as well as a desire not to get too overloaded), I will not be writing any general open prompts! This also helps me keep each thread interesting and unique. That said, I'm open to plotting something. Feel free to reference my plotting comment here so we can hash something out. I have a list of memories here, but it isn't exhaustive. I can find something else if none of these are appealing.

Starters will be posted below as I write them!]

Comments

@jonas, cw: mass death, war, childhood trauma.

[anbu]

[The stench is obvious first, a physical wall immediate and overpowering when Jonas steps through the shimmering face of the mirror. Whether or not it's placed, he will only need to take two more steps forward across the dirt path to discover its source: in every direction the desolation of violent combat is evident. Bodies are piled in makeshift mass graves or discarded singularly in the chaos of still-ongoing battle, forgotten casualties in the clash of nations. Most are unrecognizable, bloodied and torn at the hands of other enemy shinobi, but they are all most certainly dead.

Worse still is that not all of those bodies belong to fully grown adults.

What few soldiers remain are dispersed across the battlefield, though those numbers are quick and dwindling, some even attempting to flee outright. All of them are wearing headbands which glint silver under the light of a waning moon to reveal symbols: leaf, rock, hourglass, cloud — among others. It's difficult to place time; this eerie, lifeless hellscape has crossed a boundary into eternal night, but the truth is that the sun is somewhere on the horizon. Soon it'll bleed threads of superficial warmth back over the territory.

Jonas will notice, immediately in his peripheral, the fast-running figure of a small child, hardly older than a toddler. Alone amid all of this.]

[coherer]

(an outdoorsy scent is what draws jonas to itachi's mirror, familiar with it. it's wood burning, it's bonfires, it's alluring and simultaneously worrisome when it comes from aisles of flammable floorboards. to track down the source he need only lean near each, unrecognizable frame, a couple standing out to him but ignored in favour of stamping out whatever's alight—incidentally, when he arrives there's nothing there. the glass stands alone, reflective and rippling beneath a touch that was meant to brace him while he peered behind it.

jonas falls through and down the slope of a sheer hole dug shallowly in the ground, heel hitting the soft flesh of a dead body that has him pinning himself into dirt with a hoarse shout. with immediate regret for his resulting gasp, his hand clamps down over his mouth and nose to stifle the stench of putrefaction, turning to kick in a foothold and climb out onto his elbows with a lurching gag. spitting, raising his head, teary eyes drag yard by yard across a field emptied but for corpses of little ones, men, and women in inscribed headbands. it's a horrible nightmare, one a shaky claw at his arm won't wake him from, struggling shakily to his feet after pitching the contents of his stomach up into mud that clings to his cheek when at last jonas wipes his face.

and then he spots it.

a child, too young to be school-aged, darts into his field of vision. a child, alone without his parents who might've left him or died in whatever war's been waged. a child, forced to see blood and carnage and decay and disaster when simple death is already a concept too macabre for the young to learn. for an astoundingly long moment, jonas can do nothing but watch him flee and forget to breathe. shock stiffens his limbs, legs locking him in place—if you move, you'll die; if you call out, they'll find you—until, like a ghost presiding over and haunting someone else's life, his path is crossed unawares.)

... wait... (he mutters, dizzy stare widening and flashing to itachi, leaning into a sharp run.)

Wait! I-I won't hurt you, buddy; I just wanna' get you outta' here! (stride longer, jonas can just reach him. but just as he extends a hand to grab at his upper arm with a lunge that'd take them both to a protective roll onto the ground, willing to sacrifice himself to a few bruises and scrapes if it means covering this kid's face to the dangers around them, his fingers pass through skin and his momentum sends him stumbling onto his knees.) J-Jesus! What the fuck!

[anbu]

[The child continues on, oblivious to the kind hand that reaches out for him, and skids to a halt at the bottom of another trench of bodies where a wounded voice is calling for water. "Here," he says in a shaky voice, kneeling to pull out a bamboo canister to trickle water onto the lips of a fallen soldier. Something awful occurs then. The soldier, realizing the boy is dressed in shinobi gear, flashes a kunai out to strike—and the child reacts instantly with his own brandished blade. The man's throat is slit open. Soon he falls, dead.

"Father..." Over the boy's shoulder, another man has appeared. This is who he addresses. "Why did this shinobi try to kill me? I didn't do anything."

"Remember, this is a battlefield. In a few years you'll be a shinobi too. This war might end, but the reality of a shinobi doesn't change. This is the world you will step into."

Their voices carry over the silent graves of countless dead. Rain begins to fall, a quiet and thin drizzle. "Why did you bring me here..." the child finally asks in a shaky, stammering voice.

"You're a clever boy, Itachi. I wanted to make sure you saw this reality. Shinobi are creatures that fight. Never forget what you've seen here today."

The two speak little more after this, although if Jonas ventures near enough, he'll see the boy staring out over the surrounding area with tears painting his cheeks, crying openly.

Near-silent feet carry Itachi through his own mirror, into the flash of memory, ignoring the scene on display to pursue the trespasser in question. He appears behind Jonas suddenly, and yanks on the back of his shirt, bodily hauling him away from the trenches and bodies and his own childhood self.] Jonas, enough. [No inflection whatsoever.] You are not meant to be here.

[coherer]

(staring at his hands, alarmed, jonas' breaths are huffed from him in a panic. his fingers dig back into dirt to rise up in spite of how desperately his tremors try to keep him down. this kid needs help, it's too dangerous, he'll be killed before his eyes if he—

can't even shout to warn the child, the dying soldier lashing out only to take a hit in turn. a four-year-old child slices through hard cartilage of the throat like the motion's second nature and blood bubbles forth from the gaping wound the man can't even weakly grasp closed. jonas falls silent after that, barely off of his knees, sinking back down on the edge of the trench with hardly a blink at the second voice that joins theirs.

he hears the discussion through a filter that sieves so many horrifying words that will all boil down to both "father," and "itachi." it's only once they stop speaking that he, considered young by his world's standards, puts it all together. this unnamed man is his bonded's dead parent, this monstrous person who forced his son to sprint across a field landmarked with the bodies of their comrades. his arm is the only defence jonas raises against the hand that fists into the back of his shirt, pulled back onto the bloody ground with a sharp gasp.

that they were raised into this is surreal, something his mind is unable to comprehend. like a stubborn mule, he finally snaps to with a dig of heels into the dirt, trying to slow itachi's progress as tears make easy tracks down cheeks red with stress. they were forced to see all of this so young, kids staring into the dead eyes of other kids, encouraged to think of wartime, praised for being there to absorb it. and who do they become, after they've grown?)

God, no– (whispered through clenched teeth before his voice breaks into a loud shout, slapping at itachi's wrist, turning onto a hip in a thrash to the side to slide instead on his shins.) No! Get the fuck off of me!

(terrified, trapped, jonas does the only thing he can think to do. he wrenches beneath itachi's grip and attempts to lunge at his waist, arms around him in a tight grab.)

[anbu]

[As soon as Jonas begins to fight his grasp, he slows, cautious even as he maintains the iron hold through that brief tantrum of physical protest. It's only when Jonas twists around and begins to drag at the shins that Itachi lets him loose. In time for the attempted tackle, those arms spread wide to snag him around the middle.

Without hesitation, Itachi jabs an elbow out and strikes him across the breastbone, hard enough that Jonas will be forced to stagger as all the air is driven out of panicky lungs. Then he snatches the boy's wrists, reining him in like one might restrain a wild trashing animal. He hauls Jonas to his feet and twists both arms behind him, putting Itachi at his back.]

Jonas. Calm down.

[This comes in low, steely tone of command.]

Breathe.

[coherer]

(colour dots his vision. gold, flecks of it at the corners of his vision. jonas knows he's been struck, but he's not sure where when the sheer panic outweighs his ability to sort himself out, arms restrained behind him now in a way that makes his chest feel tight. sucking air into his lungs in gasps, his head hangs.)

Let– let me– (tears drip off of the tip of his nose until they're shaken away with a thick head of hair.

the man at his back isn't trying to drag him down into the mud with the others, he isn't trying to make him open his eyes and stare at the carnage like his father had, itachi is trying to lead him out. yes, that'd be all he needed to calm down in any other circumstance—it's a dream, this isn't real, he'll wake up any moment in his bed to realize it's all just a horribly vivid nightmare. the sounds of people dying, the smell of the ones already dead, is all a sick part of his imagination.

it's not enough.)

It's you. You and Sasuke– I'm sorry. I-I didn't know, I'm so sorry. (jonas flexes his arms to test the hold, voice a blown-out whisper.) I wanna' go home. Please, I don't want to see anymore.

[anbu]

[The body he supports with his hands is not frail, though it feels that way for that out-blown emotional reaction, head lolling forward through each heaving gasp of breath. Itachi doesn't release him, uncertain whether Jonas would fall back into the dirt if he did. Tension hums beneath his palms; he relaxes his grip, eventually, in order to slide away from wrists and hold Jonas instead by the outer biceps. A grasp that will prevent him from buckling down, but also allow him more freedom to move.

Despite the tightness of his hold, the voice that comes out of Itachi is quieter, lacking the steel of before.]

Can you walk?

[To see someone so broken at the sight, he's carried back into a younger version of himself — the boy out now on those trenches. Only he would never have been allowed this open display. Not without reprimand and disapproval.]

If not, I will carry you.

[coherer]

(jonas imagines he'd feel like a child if the shock wore off to itachi's offer, but there's little he can feel now that isn't abject horror. the grief will hit when they remove themselves from the scenario, and he hasn't realized he's begun to shake in anticipation of it. anything would be better than the fear that wraps like wire around his limbs.

warm hands grip him by the arms and jonas finds his footing. if he can stand, he can walk, though he'll need itachi's help to guide him for his eyes have closed tightly shut in a refusal to witness any more of this hell than he already has.) N-No, yeah, I think so. I-I can do it. (short, easy questions he can answer. focusing on them diverts his attention from the mass graves and dying gasps of injured shinobi, reaching to grasp at one of the wrists he's anchored to.

he was so young. he was so small.

chin trembling, gripping tighter, his breaths shake out of him as they set out for the mirror's exit. how could his father put him through this? how could there be someone so soulless as to demonstrate the life of war to a four-year-old boy? it's no wonder he's as quiet and severe as he is, everything about his personality suddenly slotting into place for jonas who can only try not to cry for him. what is wrong with their world and the place they were raised?

was this shown to sasuke, too?)

Are you okay? (asked without thinking, worried. to think stumbled into this mirror without accepting what might happen within. he might not have known it was itachi's, but now that he does he feels terribly for forcing him to see the scene again.)

[anbu]

[The aid is there, found in a cool hand breaking out of Jonas' hold only to encircle his wrist, then using this as a lead to drag him forward. Itachi doesn't need to struggle to block the horror of their surroundings. He doesn't have to look to know the scene he's long since burned into his retinas. It passes over him now, inevitable and remembered. Where once it had left its irrevocable impression on a much younger version of himself, now it serves more as a reminder of his roots, justification for later decisions and a perspective that could not be easily shaken.

Cruel, still, that the mirror would fling someone like Jonas into this piece of his mind, soft and ill-prepared. Whatever damage it has done will need to be addressed. If not by him, then Sasuke.

He doesn't answer until he's pulled Jonas across the battlefield and back through the mirror. The agonizing sounds of their surroundings fade as the quiet, creaking interior of the Looking-Glass House takes it over.]

I'm fine. [Here he releases Jonas.] I apologize for what you were forced to see. It was beyond you. Now go, and don't come back to this place.

[coherer]

(how could he be? after witnessing such a traumatic event from his childhood, how could he be fine?

jonas drifts along with him sightlessly, eyes on his back. even if he didn't want the guiding hand to remove him from this scene, the tightness of the grip tells him he wouldn't be able to shake free easily, so his arm stays limp and he doesn't fight it. it's only once it's gone that he wishes it was back, fingers on his wrist might calm him—he can't look directly at itachi and, instead, strains his eyes by keeping them pointed as far from him as he can.

it was beyond you.

he nods as though ordered to.)

Okay, (murmured, hands raising to slide back against either side of his neck, clutching, nails digging,) I just– I-I don't want to be alone. Maybe I could... just stay here a sec? I won't try to go back in, I could... I could help you keep people out, or– I don't know. Anything?

[anbu]

[It takes Itachi several moment to understand what he's seeing in Jonas. The comprehension that this is a boy of a different life, a different world, so far sheltered outside his own and all its casual horrors—this is someone unaccustomed to war, or even the idea of war, that he's seeing the atrocity of that battlefield with fresh eyes. The quiet voice, pawing hands, eyes avoiding contact, and stumbling speech... all of this tells him Jonas is suffering as a result of what he was shown in Itachi's mind.

Unfortunate, then, that this awareness gives him no instinct toward comfort or resolution. Nothing except "forget you saw it." But had Itachi been able to forget it, as a child? Hadn't it changed his entire perception of the world? So instead it would be "go away, and deal with it alone." As he had done.

Itachi crosses his arms, but this is all he does, still standing rigid in front of his own mirror. His voice is quiet and toneless.]

... You may stay, if you'd prefer that. I won't force you to leave. Only know that I cannot give you the reassurance you seek. You would be better off going to someone else you consider closer. A friend.

[coherer]

... not yet. (while he trusts them with his life, he knows they're preoccupied; sasuke's presence is always felt and it may soon be time to find him anyway.

temporary permission given, jonas chooses to stay and sit at the edge of itachi's mirror. breaths shallow, it's all he can do to feel grounded in the way he wants, willing the dream to end so that he may wake up in bed from all of this and find everything's alright. they're safer there, tucked away in their cottages, far away from that bloody past.

wiping his eyes clean, ignoring the way it all must look to any bystanders who aren't presently in mirrors.)

How do you... how did you move on from something like that?

[anbu]

[If there are any bystanders not presently in mirrors, Itachi will stare with dead black eyes until they're deterred from loitering.

He doesn't look down at Jonas. Keeping his gaze focused away is somewhat precautionary, somewhat habit. All of it avoidant.]

I had no choice. [Truth, or at least as far as Itachi understands it.] I could not allow it to cripple me.

[To go deeper into how that first sight of war and death drove him toward motivation, toward a lofty dream, however childishly naive at the time... he finds himself folding down over this honesty. Perhaps the only time he'd ever told another living soul was as a child to a classroom of dubious, indifferent Academy students.]

I would not suggest the same path for you.

[coherer]

(they're strong, jonas thinks. to have lived through those times and weathered them, however poorly.

as his arms draw his knees close to his chest, he nods.)

I wouldn't either. I'm not– mentally, I'm not– (to experience and understand war is an ability jonas could never hope to have. he'd never want it, but if he can learn about it and become even a fraction less ignorant about lives like itachi's then shouldn't he? if itachi's giving him the opportunity to ask questions and absorb this information, how couldn't he?)

You shouldn't have had to see those things... to do those things. (no child should be treated that way.) Why... were they all there to begin with? What were they fighting over?

[anbu]

[He waits patiently for Jonas to speak, but he doesn't press him when it goes unfinished. It's the following statement that becomes more difficult to address. At least in part.]

It was war. One of the Great Wars, the third of its kind in the shinobi world. The largest conflict took place between the villages of Konoha and Iwa, but eventually their fighting drew in others, until all were affected. Many died as a result.

[Itachi says this in a measured, flat, precise tone.]

It was pointless death. In war, it's easy to lose sight of humanity and view your opponents as enemies deserving of their fate. This sort of meaningless violence exists everywhere.

[coherer]

(great wars, world wars; pointless death, meaningless violence. it's all the same, despite how varied their worlds' cultures and abilities. shinobi fight with chakra and tools, while people on earth fight with guns and explosives. jonas never really cared, an apathy caused by how peaceful—in comparison—and insular his life had been, and let his own experiences tunnel his vision.

in his afterlife, in aefenglom, he wonders if he should start doing the opposite. if war breaks out here, it'll involve the witches and monsters of this city. shouldn't he be helping prevent that, now, for the sake of other mirrorbound like him who have to build their homes here? even if there's so little he can do?)

Was that... that was your dad? Sasuke's dad, too? (his head bows, trying to remember what fugaku's face looked like when he was so trained on his four-year-old son.) And he wasn't born yet, right?

[anbu]

[As Jonas processes these thoughts, Itachi's own mind turns in on itself, remembering the death and destruction he'd witnessed in that memory so long ago. Perhaps there's good in revisiting it. The sight isn't one he should ever forget.]

It was. Our father, Fugaku, fought in that war along with the rest of the Uchiha clan. [Focusing on Sasuke... that's much easier to do, in this context.] Sasuke was born later. He's five years younger than me.

[A pause.]

Not currently, due to our timelines. Here he's closer to my own age.

[coherer]

What you saw... as a kid in there...

Did Sasuke see it, too? Did– when– (takes a deep, measured breath—he has to calm down. easier thought than done, but itachi's enviable sangfroid helps him work through the stammer.) D-Do you think Mr. Uchiha made Sasuke look at that shit, too? Before he had to, or whatever?

[anbu]

Sasuke didn't see anything. The war was over by the time he was born. [More than that — and this he doesn't say — would it matter? Sasuke's seen so much other horror by now.

Yet still he can't find himself disagreeing with Jonas' instinct of protectiveness. He'd never want Sasuke to share in the same suffering, and their experiences have always been different. It was a sight he'd wanted to shield his brother from, back then. By all means necessary.] Have you calmed down, Jonas?

[Unlike Sasuke, he'd suck at helping someone through a panic attack...]

[coherer]

(despite itachi's impression of his own ability to assist, jonas finds the clinical discussion gratifying. it sates curiosity and manages to distract him while still remaining on topic, something bizarrely familiar. it reminds him of alex, her blasé way of mocking a frightening situation. while the older brother lacks the humour, he certainly makes up for it in detachment.

does that make him sick, to glean comfort from this? the reason itachi's this cool is one direct result of that memory, isn't it?)

Better now, knowing... knowing that, I think. I-I've never– (a dull sniff, ignoring the new sting in his eyes.) I just wish my mom were here. You, um– thank you, though. For talking to me.

END HERE?

[anbu]

[That wish isn't one he can grant. Itachi isn't certain what to say in the face of it, and platitudes are beyond reach for someone like him. When was the last time he'd felt as Jonas does now?

Perhaps, in the scene they'd witnessed minutes ago, he'd left behind the last of that feeling.]

Of course. [Cool and even.] We should wake up, soon. This dream will not last forever.