[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

[supersoldier]

[There is hardly room for Sephiroth himself to judge, and therefore none truly comes. A SOLDIER is expected to carry out orders just the same — and their recruitment process is perhaps as unkind, though in ways different than what he sees before him. Still, in that vein, there’s a thread of familiarity in a stranger’s memory. Shared obligation, duty, unquestioning.

And yet Sephiroth believes there to be something shadowing Itachi’s features; he wonders if this memory is particularly important, for good or ill. Or maybe his eyes deceive him. He does not believe so, but... maybe.]

But you succeeded. A difficult task surmounted, and all the more reason why you were fit for the job. [That, of course, is an assumption of the other’s feelings on the matter. Sephiroth is fishing, seeing what he can reel in. Curiosity dictates it.]

Is that not correct?

[anbu]

... I suppose.

[It's a dark admittance, little more than a murmur in his voice. He isn't certain why he feels compelled toward honesty. Having seen this past version of himself, memories are summoned into his mind like a reel of black shadow, blocking out the future and drawn from a repressed well of pain. He remembers everything clearly.

Speaking to Sephiroth is somehow easier than to anyone else who has yet to cross into his mirror. The man's speech is without regard or judgment; it feels as though anything he's said will not be twisted or questioned. A strange sensation.]

At the time, I believed this. Joining ANBU was my utmost goal. I believed it would take me closer to... [Here he trails off, quiet in the gloomy cave. The dream still hasn't faded. Should that concern him? How long has his mind lingered in this place?] In any case, goals change as they're achieved. I was welcomed into ANBU, but in understanding the consequences of that acceptance, perhaps it would have been better had I died under Mukai's hand.

We don't need to stay here.

[supersoldier]

[And in that reply, he hears what isn’t spoken aloud. Murmured tones outlining regret, perhaps, now bearing the gift (curse) of hindsight? He wonders what it is Itachi wanted to say, a statement that soon died on his tongue. Sephiroth doesn’t chase after it, but he tries to fill in the blanks in his own mind, unable to settle on one specific answer. An ideal? A person? A purpose? Sephiroth, too, would cling steadfast to the latter if given the chance, rooted firmly to a role he could call his own, should nothing else deter him.

But rarely were such wishes ever faultless, or so easily obtained. Time always weaves its doubts with the ceaseless hands of an expert craftsman.

He says none of this. Only offers a single sentence of— Not comfort. Simple truth.]

Maybe. But you didn’t know of these consequences then, did you?

[Useless to apply the advantage of the present to the past. That’s the folly of those who like to ruminate, and he would know that, too.]

I’ll leave if that’s what you prefer.

[anbu]

[The truth at times can offer more comfort than platitudes, even if only in passing reminder of what is reality and what isn't. This is the past; his life has ended. There's no use wondering what another path might have held. Whether or not that is difficult to accept... well, he has no choice here and now.]

It doesn't matter. [Itachi's voice is quiet, distant, shutting down the part of his mind that had begun to wander in thought.] This memory has ended, so there is nothing else to see.

[Behind them, the pale mirror gleams in invitation to return. He doesn't walk through it just yet and instead turns his gaze on Sephiroth.]

I have a request, if you will hear it. Assuming I can trust your word.

[Something he so rarely does—trust. It isn't that he views Sephiroth as someone close, but rather the distance between them that makes this easier. The alienation of their separate worlds and lives. Sephiroth has nothing to gain out of him.]

[supersoldier]

[That’s it, then. Or it would seem to be, with a memory that has nothing else to show and the glistening of silver just behind them. The exit to bring them back into the city, moving on from this moment like it’s barely worth the mention.

But Sephiroth doesn’t make his way to leave just yet. His feet remain planted on the ground when a request is asked of him.]

I don’t have a reason to betray the trust of someone whose history I’m not invested nor involved in.

[Perhaps that’s coldly worded, but it’s a cold kind of comfort, isn’t it?]

I’ll hear your request.

[anbu]

[He has no reaction to any perceived coldness, as it's what he expected and what sat in his mind prior to asking the question. So instead it becomes cool confirmation. Perhaps trust isn't the word to use here, then, and the concept he means to translate is stopped by a failure of language.]

I want to access a different memory, but crossing into my own mirror alone has not worked. I've only found others activating its illusive magic — at which point I could follow their path. My request is to have you exit the mirror and reenter.

[The functioning of this dreamy, in-between place is beyond him, at least for now. This is an attempt at experimentation.]

However, the selection of memories is likely random. I cannot promise what will be seen as I have no control over it. [...] If I ask you to leave without viewing the memory in question, will you?

[supersoldier]

[So, an experiment. One relatively harmless to him, and more affecting for Itachi should he find the memory he’s looking for — and maybe even more so if he stumbles upon a wrong one.

It’s an interesting request, and it would be disingenuous to say that he’s not curious still. But Sephiroth is as good as his word; he has no real investment in these memories beyond vague intrigue, and if requested to keep his eyes shut and pay no attention to whatever swirling images might surround him a second time, that’s easily enough done.]

…Easily done. I’m more interested in your success than prying uncomfortably into your memories.

[And what else is there to say? He’ll adhere to the request, wasting no time as he crosses over to the mirror’s exit. If Itachi wants to give any further instruction, he’ll listen on the way, of course, but otherwise it’ll not be long before he’ll be making his exit, and soon a follow-up re-entry.]

[anbu]

Very well.

[In this agreement, they exit and reenter the mirror's plane of memories. Itachi says nothing on this journey. He doesn't feel he needs to, Sephiroth's response cementing to him the cold professionalism of their arrangement.

The place they enter is as dark as the cave, yet more open, a clearing in what appears to be the heart of a densely forested area. A full silver moon looms overhead. Itachi notices himself standing not far away, resolute and still, speaking in low tones to some invisible companion. He knows immediately where and when this memory is.

Before he can say anything to Sephiroth, a buzzing noise cuts through the air and a figure begins to solidify across from the younger version of himself — a man made of what appears to be thousands of insects, floating suspended above the ground.

He turns to Sephiroth,] While I am not surprised, this is not it. [At the same time, loud enough to be overheard, his younger self tells the man, "I don't plan on being Danzou's pawn forever."

A conversation continues, heightened, louder, himself continuing: "You said that you're always watching me. But you're only one person. You eat and sleep. So who's watching me, then?" And then the buzzing man drops midair, crashing back to earth head first, unable to land properly. The man reduced now to gasping and groaning as if something has gone wrong with his voice.

The Mirrorbound Itachi hasn't ushered them out yet. His gaze strays over the scene as he watches himself speak to the other shinobi with eyes burning bright red — he knows what he is saying, though Sephiroth won't. A black flame appears on the man's shoulder where he lies prone on the ground; it blooms, dark and hungry, and begins to engulf him. The screams of agony begin. The man's body bursts into a cloud of hissing insects, but the fire chases even those, eating them up into soot.

... How strange to feel satisfaction, seeing this again. Perhaps that's wrong.]

Let's go. [This is all the instruction he gives before stepping back through the mirror, otherwise unaffected by what he'd just witnessed.] If at any point you wish to discontinue this process, don't hesitate.

[supersoldier]

[He has skewed his expectations to not know what will exist in the next memory, and it was wise to do. Again, a foreign sight with no real context plays out for him, the only shared grounding point being Itachi himself. The buzzing noise sounds omnipresent until it is not, until it merges itself into the shape of a man, suspended above the ground, speaking to the memory version of the other.

Sephiroth listens, intrigued, and finds it difficult to turn his attention back when the insect-man suddenly immolates in an angry flame. What was it, magic? The kind that would burn the soul right out of a man, he thinks. (How unaffected both Itachis seem to be by a normally terrible sight.)

Eventually, the scene has played out long enough according to the other, and Sephiroth wonders if how willing Itachi is to humor questions.

They head out all the same.]

I have to admit that I’m interested. In a way that any passing observer would be. You’re full of surprises and unusual... techniques, and your enemies are just as strange.

[anbu]

Of course.

[Within their agreement, he sees no reason to deny that curiosity about a particular memory as it concerns his abilities. Doubtless he would feel similarly if confronted by power he didn't understand. It was natural, somehow, to pursue that information. Or perhaps this was only the case for himself and others accustomed to living most of their life at battle.]

These techniques are facilitated through something called 'chakra', an energy inherent within the body. Everyone is born with chakra, and thus the capability to manipulate it—to perform these techniques you see. [He pauses, glancing over the dim and dusty room of the Looking-Glass House for a moment.] Some of them. Others are restricted to bloodlines, or simply the limits of one's individual body.

It takes training and application to become proficient enough to be a shinobi, as I was, though perhaps not on the same level. [Itachi waits before he decides to reenter.] My chakra is gone here, however. I suppose magic is a substitute. I've heard many others have also been left bereft of abilities they once possessed.

[supersoldier]

Is chakra different than what you consider magic?

[Maybe that sounds like a rather simplistic question, but Sephiroth has no frame of reference. Energy inherent in the body, sometimes passed down through bloodlines, isn't so different from the tales of magic he's heard from other worlds, in a way.

The Looking-Glass house seems laughably mundane compared to the memories they're traversing, too-still when contrasted against the action and movement within a person's recollection. The mirrors themselves almost appear as quiet sentinels, overlooking their return.]

On Gaia, no one can wield magic without the use of items called materia. To be born with that kind of innate power... It's unusual for someone that hails from my planet. You can imagine how jarring the entire conceit of this world was when I arrived.

[anbu]

[Gaia is name he tabs in his mind, if only for future explanatory reference.]

Yes, I can imagine. Chakra is somewhat different from Geardagas' magic, if only because not everyone here is capable of wielding it, given the existence of monsters. As for other realms of magic... I couldn't say. The rules seem to apply differently elsewhere, but we do not need items like your 'materia'.

Chakra is foremost energy, or the life force intrinsic to our bodies. Without it, one would die. [Which supports the theory it's only being blocked in his system at present; anything else wouldn't be possible.

Itachi leads a path through the mirror once more, and he recognizes its immediate context: they are standing on a steep cliff in the heart of vast wilderness, wind scything across the territory and shaking the deep green canopy of a forest to the south. Rain blows down in torrents, whipping wet across visible skin as soon as they emerge. He shields his eyes against the onslaught of the storm.

Ahead are two figures, one of them Itachi himself, standing at the mountain's edge. He is dressed differently in this memory—a black cloak conceals most of his body emblazoned with red stylized clouds with a high collar. At Itachi's side is a towering man in a matching cloak, an impossibly large sword hoisted in hand, its blade wrapped in thick bandage. Draped over this weapon is an unconscious body.

The two appear to be having a conversation.

"Easy for you to say, since you don't know him," the taller man answers Itachi. "Well, I guess I was the one who insisted on going alone. Shall I take care of your objective for you as well?"

"Settle down, Kisame."

The two men turn, headed for the fringes of the treeline. The current Mirrorbound Itachi faces his companion and says dispassionately:] These memories seem to follow no real timeline. This one takes place several years after the last... I wonder if there's some way to manipulate that choice. Have you experienced anything else in other mirrors?

[supersoldier]

[A lifeforce. Different than materia, created by the lifeblood of his Planet, if what he was told is true. He wonders, vaguely, if circumstances would be different on Gaia — if Shinra might seek other entrepreneurial opportunities than slotting hungry reactors into the ground — if magic, if life essence, were to come from within rather than from the beating heart of the world.

A quiet thought for another time.

For now, this memory hits him like a literal storm. The wind yanks hard at his hair, whipping behind him, pulling at his scalp, until the rain soaks it through. Then it becomes heavy, pressing flat against the glossy-wet of his leather uniform, his bangs sticking to his face. A hand comes up to smooth wayward strands away, and Sephiroth, too, shields his eyes from the sheets of rain in the process.

Below are two figures, and through the rain's haze, it's only Sephiroth's harpy-eyes that reveal one as Itachi. He is dressed differently, but similarly to his much taller companion. And more interestingly, there's an unconscious body draped over an overlarge sword.

Itachi's question catches in his ears, and he glances at him with raindrops sluicing down the curve of his cheekbones.]

…I have. Training from my childhood to my adult years. The mundanity of [a hitch in his words, hiding a scoff] office work. Or the recollection of a mission amid a war. There's no rhyme or reason.

[The figures below head to the treeline, and it's hard to not glance back at them, to be curious. There is no harm in asking, and if Itachi wants to deflect it, he'll accede.]

Who is that man? The unconscious one.

[anbu]

[The answer makes it clear to him that puzzling for some meaning or direction is futile. He frowns, eyes turning away from Sephiroth, both of them now drenched — something he should perhaps apologize for if only he had some control over which memory they happened to walk into.]

... That man was a target of the organization I was allied with, at the time. [He doesn't mind surrendering this information as he turns and leads them back out.] His body stored the power of a creature called a tailed beast, living forms of chakra. It was meant to be harvested from him.

[Yet ignorant of Sephiroth's world, he can draw no comparisons or distinctions, but he speaks impassively on the fact of his own criminality. It isn't something he should hide. If it changes Sephiroth's perception of him, then it's deserved.

When they reenter, the scene is calmer, a warm sunny day on a narrow stone path. Itachi combs wet hair out of his face and passes his eye over the scene. Ahead is a gate, symbols of the Uchiha crest emblazoned across it. There is no one around, although the nearby sounds of a bustling village are audible.]

I believe, from here, I should go alone. Is that acceptable?