"The hell are you?" the redhead grumbled.
"Just a fellow resident of Inuzuri," Itachi answered blankly. "You were laying half-dead in the middle of the market street."
"The hell are we?"
"My home."
Silence began to surface until the young boy notice a special thing in his face.
"…Is that taiyaki!?" the redhead's mood suddenly brightened as he saw the fish-shaped cake in Itachi's hand.
"Yes?"
"YAY!" he shouted, snatching the taiyaki out of Itachi's hand faster than Kakashi when buying a new Icha Icha book from the bookstore. Itachi blinked as a dotted outline of where the cake once was in his hand flashed a few times before disappearing. He then redirected his gaze to the child, whose mouth was dripping with bean paste.
"…I see you like taiyaki," Itachi stated as a small sweatdrop ran down his head at the redhead's sudden about-face. He hadn't seen a child devour something so fast in a long time; not since his early teens during the occasional ANBU protection missions for Naruto. When he first witnessed Naruto consume five bowels of ramen in a row—and the blonde was still itching for more afterwards—he felt his jaw drop behind his ANBU mask. He knew Naruto had inherited Kushina-san's love for the food, but Itachi had no idea how he could eat that much of it and not get sick, "food of the gods" or not.
"Hell yeah I do! It's my favorite!" the redhead said, bringing Itachi out of his thoughts. The child was licking the residue from his fingers and the sides of his mouth.
"I see," the ex-shinobi said. "Tell me, little one; how did you end up in such a state in the middle of the road?"
"Hey! I ain't little, bastard!" the kid snapped angrily. "Don'tcha know who you're talking to, geezer!?"
"A child throwing a temper tantrum," Itachi answered bluntly, deadpanning at the outburst. The redhead ignored his statement.
"I'm Renji Abarai, ya old goat!" the child shouted, pointing a finger in Itachi's face. "I'm gonna be a Soul Reaper one day and I'll kick your ass if you treat me like a scum!"
"Renji Abarai, is it?"
"Yeah, Wrinkles. Remember it!"
Itachi smirked lightly. "Don't worry. I will."
Renji was about to retort, but he instead did a double-take. "Wait, what?"
"I told you I would remember your name. Or did you not truly mean what you said?"
"No! I mean it! It's just…" Renji paused to cross his arms. "You asshole grown-ups never cared much about who I was before. Why should I expect anything different from you, Wrinkles?"
Itachi poked Renji's forehead with his middle and index fingers. "Let me tell you this important life lesson, Renji, and take it to heart. Appearances and preconceptions aren't going to tell you anything about a person. For example, you assume I am like every other miserable wretch that you have met in this District. I'm not."
Renji irritably rubbed the sore spot on his forehead, pouting while he did so. "Why'd you poke me?"
Itachi remained quiet, frowning a bit. Renji greatly reminded him of Sasuke, despite the obvious differences in personality. Something he realized when he arrived in the Soul Society was that his memories were slowly disappearing. His time in Akatsuki was practically nonexistent and the faces of friends and family he once knew were gradually becoming foggy. If there was one person he wished to never forget, it would be his younger brother. He would do what he could to cling to those precious memories. The memories of his time alive were the only things that kept him company through the years. It was cruel in a way. Memories were basically the only things of personal value a soul could bring to the Soul Society; to take those away would be similar to taking away one's very identity.
