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How I imagine the eternal mangekyo. You can imagine it however you want though :) Being a Kunoichi was hard work, especially when boys like Itachi Uchiha were in your year. How do you continue knowing there's someone who will always be better than you? For this, I had resented Itachi. Being an Uchiha myself, we were bound to see each other. Whether it be at clan meetings, at the clan training grounds, or simply bumping into each other in the street. Still, I tried to limit it as much as I could.
To be honest, I haven't always hated the young prodigy. My hatred stems from being compared to him. I easily beat out the other Uchiha's in my year, such as Izumi, but Itachi is one I could never catch up to. Everyday my Father reminded me of this. "Why aren't you as good as Itachi?" He would ask when I returned home from the academy. "You killed your mother, and now you're failing as a ninja. What can you do?" He would tell me each night before I went to bed.
So no, Itachi had never done anything wrong, but I resent him for gaining the attention of my Father more than I could. That is, until my father died about two months ago. During a mission, he was sent to retrieve scrolls from the village hidden in the clouds. On his way back, he was attacked by three cloud ninjas, who eventually killed him. They brought his severed head to the gates of the village one morning, as something of a warning. This put everyone on edge. Though, for some reason, I felt relief. And because of this relief, I felt guilt. He was my Father, why wasn't I sad? More importantly, why couldn't I feel anything at all? I just lost my last living parent, shouldn't I be crying? Maybe, there's something wrong with me.
Now I'm living alone in a house within the Uchiha Compound. My Mother had died trying to protect me when I was nine years old. I was now 18, and completely alone. I miss her everyday. I place my hand on my chest, where a silver chain lies. This chain was the last thing my mother had given to me. It's my way to remember her.
Seeing my Father's severed head, awakened my Mangekyou Sharingan. I am the third of my year to awaken it. First being Izumi, next Itachi, and now me. Izumi awakened it following her Father's death in the Nine Tailed Beast's attack on the village. Itachi had awakened it after his father placed him in a genjutsu of his brother dying at Shisui's hand. The genjutsu had apparently felt so realistic, that Itachi had unlocked his final stage of visual prowess. In turn, accomplishing the goal Fugaku Uchiha had wanted to achieve. I can't believe a parent would put their own child through that much trauma, all for them to gain power. Yes, I understand the head family wanting to be the most powerful, but still. I can't imagine what Itachi had gone through.
My mind has been branded to hate him. As much as my initial instinct would be to reach out, and comfort the broken boy. My father made me despise the man. Sometimes, I wish I didn't. His Mother is the sweetest person I've ever met, and was always quite close with my Mother. Which made Fugaku and my Father close as well. I used to have to hang out with Itachi often. We would sit in his room, while our parents discussed. That is, until my Mother died. My Father grieved alone, forcing me to do the same. He took all his pent up anger out on me, and we no longer had dinners with the head family.
Itachi had tried to talk to me in the weeks following my Mothers death. Though, like always, I was hostile towards him. I didn't feel the least bit guilty. At home though, the repercussions of my actions were given to me in the form of bruises shaped as fists, and open palms.
No one had noticed the bruises I recieved. I started to wear long sleeves and long pants, even on the hottest of days. I'm sure if they had noticed, they wouldn't do anything anyway. They would contact the police force, in other words, my Father. Nothing would change, everything would just get worse. So I tried to stop being as rude to Itachi. Granted, I didn't ever choose to start conversations, but when he came up to me with a question, I would answer in a manner that wouldn't completely show my hatred.
Itachi grew to wonder why I had always been rude to him. Of course he wouldn't know about the physical and verbal abuse I suffered, because I wasn't as good as him. Perhaps it's because I needed someone to pin my anger on, and I chose the root of my insecurities. Itachi.
When Itachi graduated from the academy, I saw him a lot less, and felt relaxed a lot more. Though, the abuse of my Father only worsened. "Why didn't you graduate early?" I tried. I tried so hard to be better, but it was never good enough.
Then the next year, I had graduated two years earlier than my age group. "Why wasn't it three like Itachi?" I had heard too many times to count.
The first time I had heard a word of acceptance to me from my Father was the year Itachi and I had both become Chunin. I was finally neck and neck with the boy I was always behind.
Then, Itachi was recommended to ANBU Black Ops. "Why weren't you recommended? Useless." He scoffed at me one evening.
The clan meeting that evening was anything but pleasant. Having to stare at Itachi as he stood in the front of the room, being congratulated. Why couldn't that be me up there?
A year later, I was placed into ANBU directly under the Hokage. I felt excited, hopefully my Father would acknowledge my rank as a ninja now. "Should have been a year earlier." He spat at me as I laid on the ground that evening, beaten and battered. Bruises lined my stomach, and the fresh tattoo on my left shoulder was throbbing.
Four years later, my Fathers head was delivered to the gates of the village. When I first saw his head, I cried tears of blood. The throbbing behind my eyelids was something I had never experienced before. I soon realized it was my Mangekyou Sharingan.
Soon after though, I didn't feel anything about my Fathers passing. Things seem almost peaceful without him.
A week later I walked up to the main family's house. I knocked on the door, for it to be answered by Mikoto Uchiha. Mother of Sasuke and Itachi. A beautiful and kind woman. "Hello y/n, it's been a long time. I heard about your Father, are you doing okay?" Her sweet voice had asked me. I gave her a silent nod. "Are you here for Itachi?" She asked, oblivious of my hatred for him.
"No, I need to speak to Fugaku, if he's available." I responded, my tone serious.
"Ah, you're catching him at the perfect time. He has a break for the next three hours. Come in." She smiled and widened the door, allowing space for me to step through. I slipped off my ninja sandals, and Mikoto directed me to where Fugaku's office lied.
I curtly knock on the door. "Come in," I hear a gruff voice speak from the other side. I open the door, and peer inside. Itachi is standing opposite Fugaku's desk, looking anything but pleased. Just seeing him makes my blood boil.
I step through, and bow my head in respect. "Itachi, we will finish our conversation later. Y/n it's nice to see you. What did you need?" Fugaku asked.
Itachi stepped out of the room giving me a swift nod, and stepped passed me. He closed the door, and I began to speak, "I'm sure you heard what happened to my Father. In the wake of his death, I unlocked my Mangekyou Sharingan. I would like to consult with you before the hospital on an eye transplant. My Father had his Mangekyou activated, so I think it would be best for me to take his eyes to unlock my eternal mangekyou." Fugaku thinks for a moment, closing his eyes before saying, "Yes, I think that would be best as well. You're a very capable Kunoichi, having your eternal would be useful."
"Thank you sir, I will make arrangements with the Hospital myself." I bow, and head out of his office. I bid a farewell to Itachi and Mikoto who were busy in the kitchen, of course not before declining about one hundred dinner invitations. With the excuse of funeral and hospital arrangements, I return home.
So, here I am. 18, living alone in the house I grew up in, and an ANBU member with the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan. Life has definitely been a rollercoaster, and it only gets better from here.
