RED: Itachi Uchiha

семь - syem - 7

It felt like he had fallen from the heavens and crashed into the hard plains of the earth. Like his body had obliterated mountains on impact and left wide chasms where lush fields once existed. He had been so cold. So so cold. No warmth. Not even a single flame to bend to his will. Just infernal cold and ice.

He hated the cold. He longed for the tropical islands of Japan, where white sand shifted between his toes and the sun kissed his skin. Instead, all he felt was warm. A pause. He felt warm. Not the blasted snow that had began to fall around him. Warmth. Seductive heat that enraptured his entire body, tip to toe. He had to be dead. Izanami had to have sent a shinigami to retrieve him.

He felt it again. Luxurious warmth that caressed his skin in gentle strokes. He commanded his eyes to open, to seek out the source. One lid. Then two. Immediately, dancing flames of orange and yellow greeted his gaze; beautiful fire that seemed to leap and rejoice at his awakening. It called to him. Beckoned him. Closer. It called. Come closer. The flames crooned. He attempted to lift his hand, his fingers reaching out towards the flames.

“Whoa there, easy does it now.” A hand grasped his wrist, their touch icy. Was this Death? Had she come for him? “I know you're cold like, but attempting to barbecue yourself won't do you any good.” The voice scolded him and tucked his arm back by his side.

Danica sat beside the person, their eyelids barely betraying a sliver of charcoal irises beneath. Using a clean cloth, she wiped away the blood and grime from their face, revealing surprisingly unscathed skin. They were so pale and fragile. Yet it didn't stop them from attempting to shake off her grasp. Definitely stubborn. And male.

“Sir, please stop struggling. I need you to lie still. You've been gravely injured.” Danica began, pushing their hand back down once again. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Sir, please stop.” Her patience was wearing thin.

“Kodomo atsukai shinaide.” Stop treating me like a child. The male ordered, his voice raspy from lack of use. Danica sighed and sat back on her heels; despite his state Danica knew he was a force to be reckoned with. Even half dead, he made her skin crawl and her hair stand to attention. His eyes did not glow red like in her dreams, instead, groggy eyes stared up at her, eyes that were more like a cloudy night than bright and clear.

“If you’re going to be difficult then you leave me with no choice.” Danica replied, the firelight casting a devilish twinkle in her sea-grey eyes; dangerous waters that could consume at will and for sport. Danica reached into her medical bag and pulled out a clean syringe and a vile of liquid; in the firelight the bottle resembled liquid flame, the copper glass glimmering as the liquid sloshed about. When the liquid reached the hypodermic marker, Danica flicked the syringe and squeezed until the needle cried stray tears.

“Īe.” No. The man protested, again, raising his hand in attempt to swat her hand away. “Īe.” No. Danica held down his wrist with one hand, the other holding the syringe as she searched for a visible vein in his forearm. A fat, juicy one waved at her from beneath his skin, it bulged from the crease of his arm - ripe for the picking.

“Oyasuminasai.” Goodnight. Danica crooned, the tip of the needle piercing his skin with the utmost proficiency. The level of the needle depleted and the room began to wobble. The stranger tried to fight the creeping blackness that began to blot his vision; the splodges grew larger and less sporadic. His body became heavy, and the warmth from the fire beckoned him to sleep.

Damn foreign witch.

***

Danica sat in her makeshift bed; an armchair that had seen better days and an overturned box, both perched beside the fire. Her backed ached, but at least she was warm and had all of her existing digits. The stranger had been out for a few days; in part his sleep was medically induced, the rest was all him.