Chapter Text
Itachi dies in the war and goes to a place of healing and repentance.
It’s not nice, it’s not peaceful. It is fire and brimstone, and not-Hell but not-Heaven, either. Every choice he’d made, all the consequences, intended or otherwise, are slammed into him. ‘Time of reckoning is at hand’, the void says. ‘Look at what you’ve done. Understand it, if you can.’
For someone less mad and clever, it would have been agony. For Itachi, a tragedy of an Uchiha that kept harming Sasuke over and over and over again, convinced in his madness that he was helping—
After the agony of his life, this is nothing. This is justice. The only person suffering is precisely the one that deserves it. Who would dare complain?
He floats and—
Healing isn’t the right word. Insight and Judgment fall on him like hammers, pain melts him down into something malleable, and so in the forges of death, he is made anew.
It’s not the pain he minds, in the end, nor the flames. He’s an Uchiha, fire is his lifeblood. No, it’s the waking up. That, he minds.
