The Uchiha's\\ Sasuke xreader // Itachi xreader

Is love a choice

I observed (F/N) as she skillfully hurled kunai blades, each striking the bullseye of her training targets with remarkable strength, speed, and precision. Despite her impressive prowess, it was evident that her technique required refinement. It had only been a year since the tragic demise of my clan. Her mind was clearly preoccupied with thoughts of her family, particularly the family she had longed for with a deep, unfulfilled longing. She often insisted that she and Itachi were not close, but I suspected otherwise. Itachi seemed to have employed a jutsu to erase their shared past and experiences from her memory.

I had hoped that, over time, Itachi would fade into a distant memory and that she would reciprocate my feelings. Despite not being a Uchiha, she had been perceived as one her entire life due to her striking resemblance to our clan. Our family was known for our unique appearance. Hence, the villagers naturally assumed she was a Uchiha, granting her that status. The only noticeable difference was her tanned skin, which served as the sole physical trait distinguishing her from the rest of the clan.

As I neared her, I noticed her eyes shift towards me. "If you want to generate more momentum when throwing your kunai, you need to lower your stances," I advised. I observed her tightening her grip on the kunai as she adjusted her hold, pulling the blade out slightly to ensure an accurate launch. She turned her head slightly in my direction, acknowledging my suggestion. Stepping forward, she pulled her arm back a little further before swiftly releasing the blade towards the target.

As anticipated, the kunai pierced through the wood to its full extent, creating a perfect bullseye just slightly to the right of the initial throw. I moved closer, standing next to her to carefully assess the impact of her precise throw. "You've done exceptionally well... as always." Her gaze, the color of rich brown, met mine, causing a faint blush to spread across my cheeks. "I am older than you, Sasuke," she quipped, extracting the kunai before resuming her target practice.

I acknowledged the fact that she was only a year older than me as I glanced over at her petite form. Despite her age, I was much taller and larger than her. (F/N) was an elite ANBU member, but something had changed in her after her encounter with Itachi on the night of the slaughter. It seemed like she had lost her edge. Her strikes were slower, and her techniques less calculated. It was unclear whether this change was a side effect of Itachi's manipulation or if she had simply grown disillusioned with the life of a ninja. Regardless, it was evident that her priorities had shifted. She now spent most of her time teaching new members of the Hidden Leaf Village and helping them refine their techniques.

As she took a step back and observed me getting into position, she let out a sigh. "It's important to consider our age and move forward, Sasuke," she said. As I prepared to strike, I couldn't help but release a quiet scoff. It wasn't about age but about her unresolved feelings for Itachi. An annoyed grunt escaped her, "If you think so little of me, why waste your time training with me?"

I watched in awe as her sharp-edged kunai barely missed my blade by a hair's breadth. Her once graceful movements had transformed into something fierce and menacing. Yet, I couldn't help but smile at the intensity burning in her eyes. It was a glimmer of the person she used to be, a sign that she was still there, just waiting to be rediscovered."You are not worthless." I responded while grabbing her wrist. Her delicate eyes drifted down to the faint scar just above her collarbone, a lasting mark from the sharp edge of a kunai blade. It was a constant reminder of the pain and betrayal inflicted by Itachi. He had been the source of her vulnerability and my sworn adversary, shaping her into the person she had become. I longed to witness the unwavering strength and determination that had captivated me. I refused to see her succumb to the fragility and helplessness that often befell women in the Leaf Village.

My heart raced as I fought the urge to lift the edge of her shirt and gently kiss the scar, hoping to heal the pain from his touch. I was careful not to act impulsively, mindful of the impression I had made before. Despite being labeled as immature and impulsive in the past, I was determined to demonstrate my growth and maturity now that I was 19.