one_long_mission | [open] More woes

The old woman didn't seem to listen to that. She was busy adding her own little comments about her own love.

"Oh, my husband, rest his little soul, used to come out here and paint with me. Put the canvas in his lap like this." she set one across the arms of Itachi's wheelchair. "I did, I did. He couldn't get around much in that last year, but he made me some beautiful art, he did."

She was just as eagerly handing a brush and a canvas to Karin and setting her up a little spot right next to the big rock.

"Liked to come up here. Said it reminded him of his mother's stories, back during the old war before he was born." she added with a smile. "Said this spot used to be a shrine, once, yes she did. Had us say our vows on top the big rock. Good omens, good life... Oh, he knew her stories by heart, he did, he did!"

"A shrine?" oh now they were getting somewhere. "What were those stories?"

That blank canvas though... well, she figured some art would be fine, just to try. She wasn't sure what to paint, sighing and closing her eyes.
Strangely enough, she thought she could hear crashing waves... They didn't stop. Suddenly, she remembered where she had heard them. It was when Sasuke had buried team Hebi, and transformed them into team Taka. The sun was bright, illuminating him like some fallen god, his back to them.

This... could be a good picture, she decided.

"Lots of little tales about war and about peace. Yes, yes." The old woman replied as she carefully set her paints out on a few smaller rocks. That way, the two young visitors could reach them better.

Itachi, for all the woman's fussing, had climbed out of the chair and sat down on the grass. He hadn't really painted before either, but to decline would be terribly impolite. So he dipped his brush in the red paint and began trailing it across the canvas.

"People used to go to the shrine to grieve for those taken by the war. Friends who lost comrades. Parents who lost children and sometimes children who lost parents. The stream's long dried up, but he said it was made of tears once, he did. Sadness was everywhere. But all was not lost, no, no. See, when you left the shrine, you left the sadness there too. And the priests would sweep it away like dust in the wind. Clean the path, clean the soul, yes."

As she listened and painted, trying to recall how that rope belt and his shirt flowed in the wind and placing them in shades of gray and purple onto the canvas, it felt she was talking of a time long, long gone.

Why was the shrine not there anymore? Where would the sadness go then, if no priests would sweep it...?
She had lost no one of importance and yet.. yet she would still like to grieve for every lost chance...

It was almost like Itachi could read her thoughts. Or perhaps, he was just as curious.

"What happened to the shrine?"

"Oh, it's been years since someone's taken an interest in my late husband's stories." she beamed with pride. "You two make such an adorable couple."

She dipped her brush in the paint, and added more feathers onto her little bird.

"Some say the war finally took its toll, that the little buildings were burned to the ground. The younger priests probably fled, but I heard it said that the eldest stayed on that very rock, yes he did. Burning until he was the dust he used to sweep." it was a rather grim end to the story, so she tried to lighten the mood. "Still watches over this place, I think. Sweeping away our troubles if we let him. Goodness and kindness know no end."

"...I wish... that Sasuke could have had a place like this..." she mixed the purple with some blue, to darken it and paint the cloth he wore over his pants. "...I wish... I could be the one that sweeps his troubles away." but he would not let her. He shouldered everything... on his own.

Another sigh. She had heard much more horrible stories of what he did in the future, and as much as she tried to detach herself from him to not suffer that fate, she still could not.

"What a sweet young thing." the woman smiled warmly. "Who says you can't sweep someone's troubles away?"

Itachi gave a small nod as well. Clearly, he agreed.

"He won't let me close... in our home world, and here... here I haven't see him." she revealed, tracing the oulines of pants and those sandals with black before filling them in and adding in thin creamy-white streaks of fading sunlight.

"Then just be someone he can come to, dear. Like the shrine." she smiled, placing her wrinkled hand on top of Karin's head. "A person didn't need to go all the time. Probably forgot about it when times were good. But when they were sad, they knew where to go to ease their hearts. That time comes for everyone at some point."

Itachi merely listened. He wasn't entirely sure what he was painting, or even trying to paint. It was more abstract than anything - streaks of red, black and white. Some clouds. Some wind. He couldn't see it very well, regardless.

"I sure hope... I can grow up old and wise and happy too." That woman, she sounded happy, despite having lost one dear to her. She must have had years of happiness.

"If I can be a shrine to him, someday... then, it would make me happy too."

The old woman smiled. "Oh, I used to say the same things when I was your age. And then, one day, I did. I sure did. And he didn't leave my side until the very end, that's right."

She still had a lot of work to do on her little bird painting, but it was already taking shape. Her joy while she worked, though, was contagious. Itachi found himself smiling too. Even if his art was a lot less recognizable.

"Oh, look at me, talking on and on like a little old woman! Guess I am what I am now, yes, yes. Can't be anything else, that's right. What did you dears decide to paint?"

She couldn't help but give a sigh. Would she truly be able to find her own love too, and grow old and happy...?

Her own painting had a somewhat abstract feel to it, since the colors had little fading, but it was recognizable. She was painting the rock upon which he had stood back then, red eyes on her current work.

"I'm... painting a memory.. and maybe a wish too." this was how she could put it.

The old woman came around to look. She adjusted her glasses.

"My, my, what a strong and determined young man you have there! And healthy too." she glanced between the painting and Itachi. "You should cut that hair of yours, son. You looked pretty dashing when you were younger. Must have had all the ladies swooning, hm? My late husband was like that. Ho, but he picked me and I've been tickled pink ever since, I was, I was."

She laughed to herself as she scuttled over to Itachi and glanced down at the canvas he was working on. She squinted several times, taking in the red swirls, what looked like a full moon, and a flurry of shuriken. Or maybe they were just deformed stars. Either way, paint dripped and moved however he turned the canvas, making everything look like it was bleeding.

"What did you paint, dear?" she asked, obviously having no idea what she was looking at.

"I... don't really know..." he answered softly. "I kind of just... painted."

"Oh, feelings. I see. Feelings... My late husband used to do that kind of art from time to time, he did, he did. Well, what do they say now, that you look at them?"

Itachi looked down at the canvas, squinting. It was all a blur to him. But it did remind him of the most dangerous of illusions his mind often created.

"I... don't know that either. I'm afraid... my eyes aren't what they used to be... I guess... it's the tsukuyomi."

Why couldn't she help but blush and -still- wish she would be graced with the type of life this old woman had? Strong, determined... Sasuke was that and so much more...

Out of curiosity, she turned to look at just what Itachi had painted. It looked... colorful, at least? The tsukuyomi, he said? She tried to remember. It sounded like a name for those sharingan techniques, yet... had sasuke ever mentionned it?

"Tsukuyomi...?"

"A powerful genjutsu... that traps the target in an illusion of space and time." He answered softly, almost reluctantly. And as he continued, it was evident why. "...usually as a means of torture."

The old woman blinked, and then cringed.

"Very... abstract, dear. Yes, absrtract, yes..."

And he was painting this? Well, pain was certainly abstract...

"I like my painting better. You really -were- cuter with short hair, 'husband'." she found herself chuckling lightly.

He wasn't entirely sure why he painted it, either. He just... did. Mangekyo sharingan spun as he continued to stare down at it.

"Course you did, dear. It's yours." The old woman noted with a little chuckle. "And you should be proud of anything you create. Yes, yes. You always should."

Before her words could resonate with Itachi, though, the canvas was on fire with black flames. It was quick to burn, and he was equally quick to snuff it out. But the harshness of the jutsu was written in the blood dripping down his right cheek.

"Oh... Oh my heavens!" The woman almost fell as she staggerd back. She lifted her glasses, rubbing her eyes. Because she did not just see what she swore she saw, did she? "How did you... what did... That... Oh, my, my, my, my..."

That one, she knew... and she knew well the effects of along with Itachi's current condition.

With a screech, she ran over. "Bite me now!" the paintbrush she had held ended up on the ground, rolling among rocks. Not that she could repair any vision, which was certainly even more affected now, but that should have taken -some- chakra.

"Oh my... Oh, heavens, have decency, child!" the old woman shrieked, making it very evident what she and said late husband must have done in the privacy of their bedroom. She shielded her eyes. "Oh no, no, no."

That didn't happen, though.

A dizzy Itachi felt for Karin's arm and bit down. Any mangekyo technique uses a tremendous amount of chakra. Even when he was healthy, he could use those eyes only three times before his reserves were completely spent. Now, with far less stamina, even one use could have debilitating effects.

He must have wanted that painting gone - very, very badly.

"I am having decency!" yes, because no one wanted to see her thoughts, never mind how different from Sasuke that bite felt. When it was sasuke, oh he was never holding back!

"...and don't you DARE stop before feeling remotely all right. I swear, why did you even do that?" she was trying to sound mad but... well, no. She only sounded really really worried.

Because at length, in a tiny voice, she asked "...is it better now that you know it's gone?"

Itachi was always reluctant when biting Karin.

"I've created... enough painful illusions..." he whispered, still biting, still drawing chakra from her, even though he looked like he was about to pass out. "But they end. That... that wouldn't go away when I opened my eyes..."

He felt ashamed for painting such a thing. But genjutsu was the only art he'd ever created, really. So it shouldn't have been too surprising.

Her brows creased with worry and sadness. She could understand... and moreover sympathize.
"It's gone now... and at least I was here." she turned red eyes to him, studying him. He still looked so pale. "Don't be shy... and take whatever you need.." after all, it had beena while... since she had felt useful.

He looked so harmless, really... if her Sasuke was here, he could have ended his misery so swiftly.
Would she have let him? No. It would be wrong.. because people change. Could she make him change...?

"Should have painted... Sasuke too..." he almost laughed.

The old woman approached them slowly. The biting... seemed to be a medical technique of some kind. And that crippled young man... he could light fire just by looking at something!

"By the gods, what... what are you?" she gasped. "Youkai?"

"We're shinobi." strange. Wasn't this village home to ninja a while back? maybe she was just that sheltered. "Don't worry, we're not out to harm you." she felt she had to help her settle down, but soon returned her gaze to her current patient of sorts.

"Maybe next time, right?" after all, cultivating hope was a good way to help.

"Ninja." Itachi elaborated. "...We trained our bodies to... to do incredible things..."

At a cost, he thought to himself.

The old woman studied them for a little while longer before concluding that they really weren't a threat. To everyone's surprise, she was back to her talkative self in no time flat.

"In all my years, I've never seen such shenanigans, no, no, certainly not. My late husband, now, he used to tell stories of visitors with strange powers. Thought he was pulling my leg, I sure did. Fire out of your eyes. The ladies at my knitting group'll never believe it. No, sure won't." she laughed. "Poor boy, now... It was a... strange painting. But not a bad one, dear. You didn't have to burn it. I'd let you try again, but nothing left to paint on. No, no. Last one I brought with me, I'm afraid."

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