ximilialog | CLOSED ✺ in bygone days, we joked about time after death

[ it is one evening, a week or two after the mission, when huaisang sits in the corner of the sunlight room — there's one particular spot with a rock formation, a spruce tree shading it beautifully. one of the rocks has been altered to look like an altar, and there he places a wooden memorial tablet — on it, carved with care, reads the name nie mingjue. next to it, held in a small frame, is a carefully inked painting of a stern-looking man.

(he'd considered his room, but it seemed more appropriate to place his brother close to the only place on the station with solid rock, the shape like the mountains surrounding qinghe.)

slowly, he kneels; bows, bows, bows. reaches to light some incence. says, quietly, ]

I'm sorry, da-ge. [ to whoever listening, the word may sound like big brother instead. ] I promise I will make you proud.

[ crack. the unmistakable sound of a stick splitting in half under an otherwise light foot cuts through the moment, and huaisang turns to look. ]

[ not too far from where he's kneeled stands clarice, shoulders hunched and arms crossed around herself as if to ward off the chill the evening of the room provides. she looks just as startled to see huaisang, eyes wide and unnaturally bright in the low moonlight. ]

Sorry. [ despite her surprise, she can easily tell she's walked in on something she shouldn't have. ] I wasn't expecting anyone to be here so late.

That's fine, [ he says, fan opening in his hand, fluttering idly over the lower half of his face. there's something strangely sharp in his eyes. ]

This isn't a private area, you can walk where you like! And anyway, I'm about finished here.

[ he stands up, dusts his knees... looks once more back at the memorial, closes his eyes for a moment. ]

[ those bright eyes follow him in the low light, before trailing back to the little structure erected on the ground. she takes note of the arrangement, the solemnity of the air she'd walked in on... putting two and two together isn't difficult. ]

I'm sorry, [ she says again after a moment, but there's a weight in her tone that makes it far different from the casual apology she'd given earlier. ]

... it's been over ten years, [ he says after a long pause, which is not an "it's okay", not an "it doesn't hurt anymore". ]

My brother. Nie Mingjue. [ he looks back at the painting, his brother's gaze unwavering. ] I always thought... he was invincible. How could he not be? The great Chifeng-zun. [ the red blade master, feared and respected throughout the cultivation world. ]

[ clarice feels her chest clench at the confirmation this stranger was related to the man in the portrait; she can't help but think of her own family, or what was left of it. ]

You must have been close.

He — he was all I had, [ huaisang says after a pause, and there's no mistaking the way his tone bleeds pain and anger, all at once. ]

Sometimes I forget people here don't know him. He was... back home, he was what everyone aspired to be. Unbending with his sense of justice, unflinching in the face of danger. But he was also my brother — my only brother. He carried me on his shoulders when I was small. He bought me an entire set of the most expensive brushes after we'd had an argument. He told me he didn't want to name one of my birds, but he stayed up all night thinking of the perfect name for her anyway.

[ he smiles, soft and sad. ] It's not fair that someone like him was taken from the world [ from me, he thinks, the world didn't care he was murdered, they don't deserve him ] so early.

[ after checking his room, the training room, the kitchen and the armory, yamato finally makes it to the simulation room, barging in with absolutely no consideration to the fact that it might be just anyone in there —

but luckily, it's itachi, his surroundings those of his home village — something that makes yamato pause before yelling (as if itachi hasn't somehow noticed them already), ]

Itachi! I was looking for you! [ and then, with another look around, ] What's this?

（ joke's on u he absolutely noticed the instant they entered the simulation room, and is already rising out of a meditative pose to face them as they speak. 'looking for him' could, with yamato, mean anything from wanted to spar to wanted his opinion on a new food so he's considering that warily as he answers their question — ）

This is a place from my world. Konohagakure.

（ there are precious few people he would tolerate in this simulation, which is the only reason it didn't shut down on yamato's entry. it's locked to most of the station's residents. but yamato has — earned it of him. ）

— oh!

[ that's enough to wipe whatever yamato was about to ask from their mind, and instead they slow down, taking a measured look around. ]

... It looks nice. [ and maybe from most people, it'd be the kind of empty platitude you say to someone you assume to be missing your homeworld; from yamato, who is painfully sincere in everything, there's no subterfuge or lies. they really do think it looks nice. ] What kind of a place is it? Konohagakure?

[ they don't struggle with the word, but then, it's likely to be expected. ]

It is my home.

（ is, and not was. mild, as distinctions go, and yet it speaks volumes. his expression, as he looks around the simulation is perhaps as unguarded as yamato has ever seen it, a faintly tenuous lift to his eyebrows and a stubborn set to the jaw. ）

It is a place of many inconsistencies. The brightest light hides the darkest shadows.

（ he is looking at the hokage mountain as he says that, and then his mouth quirks at one corner and he glances away. ）

But it is, perhaps, where our will of fire was truly born. The people of Konoha can be many things but they are, for the most part, just and kind. Ruthless to their enemies, but not without mercy.

Isn't it like that, in many places? The light hides the shadows, but from the shadows, the light shines brighter, too.

[ they look at the mountain, too, with a small smile. then, ]

They sound like good people.

（ the perspective they offer is one he had not considered. he has long considered men like himself and danzō to have been the very ones to steep the village in such darkness — but he supposes then, it follows, that actions like theirs permit the throw of the village's light to reach that much further into darkness.

he makes a soft sound, sort of a hah. ）

They are, for the most part. But they are not without fault. I do not think anyone can ever be truly faultless in all things.

（ he tips one hand, palm-up in a sort of shrug, and then sets off in a particular direction, confident that yamato's long lope will carry them to follow. ）

I will show you where I trained as a boy.

No, I suppose not. [ and really, from what yamato has seen, they agree — no one is without their faults. that's just human nature. ]

Oh! [ they brighten instantly, following quickly. ] Did you start training very young? [ the question is cheerful, like they fully expect a yes and see nothing wrong with it. ]

Yes.

（ he has by needs been cagey about the exacting nature of his history, but given what he knows of yamato it will not strike them as unusual for him to have started young. ）

I was proficient with most bladed weapons by the time I was five.

（ he says it noncommittally. it is not a remarkable thing, nor is he bragging — it was simply expected, as an uchiha. ）

Eh — as expected of you! I had just started training with the kanabo at that age...

[ they actually pout a little. why did father not make them train younger?? they could have been a match for him at this age, then, instead of still not being able to beat him! ]

（ yamato pls.

itachi knows enough of their history by now to take their meaning, and his expression flickers briefly in some unreadable emotion before he carries on. he could manipulate the simulation and simply drop them in the training grounds that he and shisui built outside the walls of the city, but he thinks yamato might enjoy the village itself.

so, he takes them through the main street. points out a variety of shops, what they happened to sell. he gives them an overview of the history, brief as it is. konoha has stood for less than a hundred years, many of its buildings created by hashirama's wood release. it is clear, in how he talks with the soft, meditative tone more scholar than soldier, that this place occupies a significant place in his heart. there is warmth and honest joy in the sharing that yamato likely has not seen of him before.

by the time they get to the outskirts of the village, the sun has chased its celestial counterpart to the horizon, it hangs languid and liquid orange in the sky, bathing everything in its soft hue.

they are in a large, semi-open space in the woods, bracketed on one side by a stream that carries the strength and promise of a river, and set up all over — tucked into trees, propped on or behind boulders are a series of targets no more than a handspan wide. some hang from wires and spin freely in the air, some have deliberate obstructions placed in the way, hiding them largely from view. several are underwater, just barely visible through the cascade of cold water. one thing the targets all have in common is that they are scored and scarred with old knifemarks, most clustered at the red center, some — older and weathered — nearer the edges. there are various training dummies with similar evidence of abuse, and where the grounds are clearest of rocks and trees there are scorch-marks in the grass, craters in the earth.

he could not bring himself to make it pristine, not when shisui's ghost lingers in every flattened blade of grass, in the deep furrows in the ground, in the rents of the bark of the trees.

he gestures to the area, tacit permission for yamato to explore. ）

My clan specializes in weaponry. When I was not busy with missions, or the academy when I was a child, I was here most days, dawn to dusk.

（ some people might take that comment as braggadocio, but he knows yamato will understand. if you dedicate your life to a path, you have to be prepared to follow it to its completion, and itachi was not one to rest on the laurels of natural talent. skill requires maintenance the way a sharp blade must be whetted to keep its edge. ）

CLOSED ✺ in bygone days, we joked about time after death

NIE HUAISANG ✺

✺ ALINA, CLARICE

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YAMATO ✺

✺ ITACHI

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motherfuckers out here sounding like kingdom hearts characters

simple and clean plays on the background

use the heart of the cards, luke!

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