Chapter Text
The dagger was poised right above his Adams apple, though it didn't bob at all. He continued to look upon you with a half lidded expression, barely even blinking at the sudden intrusion.
"Go on. Do it," he baited, his voice as undaunted as the day he arrived, appearing out of nowhere. The only movement was his hands coming to rest on your hips, as if this was an automatic reaction to your positions. The most natural thing in the world for him to do, casual and no at all odd.
"I will," you ground out, harnessing all the emotion he seemed to be lacking. This wasn't the man you had known. You knew this, had known this for a long time. That's why you had a dagger pressed to that most vital of places. It would be so easy, so effortless. But nothing about this had been easy.
"Ok."
It tickled at the screaming child in the back of your mind, the one who had set out on this path. There had been so many people who had been harmed by him, but you were the one who got to claim victory over his life. His lack of reaction to this insurmountable journey to get both of you to where you were was an ever persistent thorn in your side. Instead of plucking it out, releasing the nagging pain, it was instead burying in deeper.
"You don't fear for your life?" A question, but also a plea. Why wasn't he doing something?
"No."
Short. Simple. Clipped.
As was his way. As had always been his way. Those unaffected eyes continued to bore into you. There was no challenge, no goading, no prodding for something more. Just an absent acceptance.
"Stop playing with me," you hissed, pushing the knife just the slightest bit deeper. Blood pooled up around it, trailing in a fragile line down his neck. It splattered down onto the off white bed clothes and continued to spread out, seeping into the very fibers of the sheets. Who knew how deep that stain would go.
More dripped down, furthering the journey in a near silent drip.
"I never play games," the coldness in his tone sapped all the life in the room.
You would have assumed you were caught in his genjutsu if you hadn't been watching his eyes carefully. There had never even been the faintest flicker of red. No indication of a response. Your hair spilled over your shoulder, dropping down to touch the side of his cheek. You were both so close.
Your breaths came out in near pants, the excitement and dismay of this moment racking your nerves in ways you hadn't known were possible. His stayed as even as ever. He could almost be asleep. The dark spots under his eyes begged for respite to what must be near constant work.
"That's all you've ever done to me."
"I remember it differently, then."
"You won't twist my truth."
"Then do it," said so flippantly.
He griped the knife then, his hand moving so quickly, the other tightening around your hip. He kept you securely on top of him, preventing you from moving away but also steadying the knife. You hadn't realized how much you had begun to shake.
Rage crashed through you like a torrent, overtaking any sense you had and capsizing all thoughts. Only you weren't angry with him- no that would have been too simple. You were angry with yourself. For your failure, for your hesitance, for your weakness.
He gripped the blade and blunt side of the dagger without thought for injury to himself. As impassive as ever he pressed it further to his jugular.
"Stay stead with your aim. Don't hesitate and cause needless mess," his instructions toneless, as if this was just another conversation he was having with someone for work. A teacher instructing a child on a menial task
"Itachi," you willed you muscles to move, "I'll kill you." Nothing happened. You struggled there for a while more, a deep internal battle happening within your own mind for the love and hate you held for this man.
He waited, ever patient, knife steady and held on target.
You fussed with the skirts of your kimono, fidgeting under all the different layers and the heavy patterned fabrics. Your father had picked out the dressing for you, telling you to look presentable for the Uchihas.
"But father," the soft tittering of the many beads dangling from ornate pins filled your ears as you turned your head to look at him. "I know Itachi already! Why are we doing all of this? It's so heavy."
"You're a princess, dearest. We want them to know you as such," his warm hand cups your face as he kisses your forehead so softly. "It'll be over soon and you can go right back to playing. Just one day, sweetness."
You smiled up at him, deciding to endure the extra weight with the promise of freedom soon. Your clan was small, and not overly notable to the Hidden Leaf Village, but what your people lacked in skills you made up for in the various political machinations.
"You need to make a good impression," your mother instructed, reaching out to correct a falling ornamentation. "This is very important that we make this deal. It's not just Itachi you have to look good for, but also his family. They need to know what they're investing in."
You nod along, unsure of what exactly your mother wants you to do, but knowing you'll try your hardest.
"Good, good. If this works," she had turned to your father now, her own ornate but much simpler attire an echo to yours. When she had been getting ready you heard all the remarks made to her ladies about matching but not over shadowing. "If we can cement our relationship with the Uchiha's we will really be setting ourselves up as a true player."
"We're doing all that we can," your father was trying to calm your mother, but she was inconsolable. It was too close to the meeting time for her to be still.
They sat in the tea room, small steaming cups of freshly brewed black tea sat in front of each of them. All remained untouched. One of the ladies had gone off to get small cakes. Your mother paced to the side, looking out the rounded window past the garden and to the entryway.
Minutes passed like this, with the silence stretching on and on. You knew better than to ask to play or to get up and walk. Your mother had arranged you now, perfectly, like a doll. To move more than was necessary would only cause her to become a flurry of motion and grumbles until you were sat prim and proper.
You were a lady, she had told you countless times. It was your job to ensure you achieved the best match possible, and to do that you had to act like a butterfly: alight with just the faintest flutter of wings, touch nothing but with the smallest of caresses, and be strikingly beautiful to all those who looked upon you.
You did your best, but also being a young growing girl at the small age of six you were bound to get into trouble from time to time. That often came in the form of playing with the Uchiha boy.
When he wasn't training or off to the ninja academy, you could both be found running in the woods or playing by the pond. You had a boyish streak in you, wanting to get into rough housing and mud.
Once, when you had come home as the night was settling in after a full day of summer sun your mother had noted the tangle of mess your hair had gotten into. She had been quietly furious in only the way you had known only she could be. The brush dragged through your hair until is was as smooth as silk, pulling at your scalp and tenderizing it.
"They're here," she practically sang as she turned to you and your father. "Look presentable."
She quickly tamped down her excitement as she set herself at the table, the picture of a reserved and well bred woman. Your father stood as the Uchiha family entered the room. Three of them, plus some others who lingered in the back as formal attendants.
Itachi entered first, also dressed up in much more formal wear than you had ever seen him in, and would ever seen him in since. He looked around in confusion, his eyes passing over you. His father and mother were next, royal blue with the fan of their clan emblazoned on their kimonos. It was simple, though not understated with the finery of the embroidery and details.
"Welcome," Father greeted them as if they were old friends- and they were. Their clan and ours had been close knit for many generations. A formal union, however, hasn't happened yet. "It's so good to see everyone again."
Finally, Itachi's eyes settled on you. For a moment there was no recognition, he simply stared as if you were a stranger. It wasn't until his mother spoke silent words into his ear he finally smiled.
"You look so different," was his way of greeting.
"So do you!"