RED: Itachi Uchiha

Prologue

Danica Morozova was a loyal Russian. Her favourite colour wasn't red, but she did love her country. She was from a land of ice and snow; a land of bitter summers and lethal winters. Despite the snow that blanketed her homeland's landscape, the ground was seeped in centuries of blood. Beautiful, unblemished ground, tarnished by the selfish, idealistic ways of man; albeit gruesome, it was her home. Was her home. Her new home wasn't much different. It still snowed. The winds still battled one another for dominance. And blood still oozed from the soil.

Most of her nights were spent scrubbing bloodstains from her aprons, praying that next time there wouldn't be as much to remove. But there always was. The cotton of her petty, homemade apron never returned to its original colour; it always retained a minute piece of every person that she treated, a reminder that no matter how hard she scrubbed, no matter how many times she rinsed, she would always have blood on her hands. After all blood was blood. Amaranthine and gluttonous. It didn't matter who's blood it was. Good, bad. Japanese or Russian. Danica didn't care. She had a duty. Heal and protect.

Her husband on the other hand: Ruslan Morodov. A lion amongst men. He was a loyal and noble Russian. He drank his vodka straight and bled tales of revolution. He was a true Red, a devoted son of Mother Russia. Whereas Danica's arsenal was made up of morphine shots and bandages; Ruslan's array consisted of Tokarev rifles and the type of cocktails that weren't served in the Hotel Astoria.

Ruslan had big dreams for a man from a small town. He wanted his country to thrive and overcome the pestilence that was the Nazi regime. At night he slept with a combat knife beneath his pillow and loaded pistol strapped to his ankle. Danica's dreams were different. She dreamt she had wings and claws. Sometimes she flew over mountains, where the snowy regions were more like wild oceans of white and the sky was a dense forest of blue. Even when she woke Danica could still feel her nostrils sting with the fresh, untainted air, instead of the usual tang of copper that scratched the back of her throat and made her teeth ache.

But eventually, even her dreams were painted red.