[ Itachi falls for what feels like hours. Maybe even days. It's hard to say, the only constant is the rush of invisible air and the persistent blackness all around them.
If Itachi breathes in deep through his nose, he'll smell kerosene and rain. If feels himself start to hunger, the rough husk of walnuts grate against his palms. If weariness begins to overtake him, a warm summer rain will beat against his body from somewhere unseen. Four numbers flash through his mind on occasion, leaving a strange impression carved into his head. 7718...
Hunger. Time. Rest. Touch. Mind. Scent. Or somewhere else entirely?
Where does Itachi's mind wander most as he falls? ]
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If Itachi breathes in deep through his nose, he'll smell kerosene and rain. If feels himself start to hunger, the rough husk of walnuts grate against his palms. If weariness begins to overtake him, a warm summer rain will beat against his body from somewhere unseen. Four numbers flash through his mind on occasion, leaving a strange impression carved into his head. 7718...
Hunger. Time. Rest. Touch. Mind. Scent. Or somewhere else entirely?
Where does Itachi's mind wander most as he falls? ]