[thread]

[pogromanate]

Who: Itachi & everyone mentioned here
Where: Uchiha estate
When: fffff June 9th, around 7pm?
Summary: It's Itachi's birthday...
Rating: R?
Other: Yosuke you idiot -- also, tag when you can etc etc

Comments

[pogromanate]

In a sense, Itachi knew how fruitless it would have been to engage in a fight between immortals -- and still, with those around himself, and with the quick flicker of flames that lit the furniture, swallowing it, Itachi let himself tense up. His eyes fixed on Madara with a dangerous hate and even brutal indications that was a rare sight. But if anything, Itachi would not let this bastard satisfy himself with the elimination of those that were in the household. There was no room for Itachi to contemplate the other’s hues that mirrored his own, or the releasing of his person from the Omega.

Negotiations were worthless now. Not when Madara shot out his arm to let his fingers enclose around Kazama’s neck. And in the next movement, Itachi appeared before Kazama. The sharingan that was embedded in Madara’s skull was gave him the same abilities as Itachi did -- the ones he stole from his mental, and so to even lay a hand on him would have been useless. Instead, Itachi hauled his elbow into Kazama’s chest strongly in hopes of sending him back and out of Madara’s hungry hands as he stood before Madara.

"...If that is what you want." Words were a cold bitter hiss. Once again, he was regretful of the situation that conjured from that moment of power-hungriness that Itachi had experienced. And then, he regretted not destroying Madara, but now, now he had wished for vice-versa. A palm reached up to his visage and fingertips went into an eyesocket slowly, letting them clamp around the red object of his eyes and gave a low painful hiss as he felt the organ being pulled from the socket with red bloodied wires of sinew attached and his body trembled.

Swiftly, he pulled the eye out and let his fist wrap around the small object as his arm went limp at his side, body swayed with agony and rivets of blood flowed down the disfigured pocket of where his eye was, in deep harsh bitter pants, he continued to speak. "Let them leave or..." It was a noticeable impression when his fist tightened around the slimy organ.

[sagittariinae]

It didn't make sense, how quickly Madara could move. Kazama's reflexes were excellent, but just barely good enough to keep him from running straight into Madara, and he jerked to a halt, breath coming in sharp and shallow, a tense hesitation flickering through his nerves. At Madara's mocking words, his glance flickered towards Yosuke -- still breathing, but down, how badly had he been hurt? -- before returning to Madara. (What is it that you want?) The sudden burst of flames only heightened the tension in his limbs, the faint tinge of fear beginning to course through his veins -- (I can't do anything against these odds.)

He'd thrown himself backwards, instinctively backing away out of reach, when the hand came reaching for his throat, but it was startling to suddenly find himself being elbowed back out of the way -- managing to keep himself from falling, he stared wide-eyed at the scene that unfolded before him, frozen in some sordid combination of shock and dread. -- because the fact that Itachi was giving in so easily meant that the odds in this battle were insurmountable. The sight of the eyeball torn from socket, the brilliant trickles of red down pale skin, and the faint trembling of limbs -- it had been years since Kazama had ever seen Itachi so weak, so damaged, and it froze him in place, this surreal sight, his heart beating a machine-gun tattoo against the cage of his ribs.

A cold chill had nailed him to the spot, freezing his limbs, but a sharp exhale, and he forced himself to move, eyes focused in a sharp glare. It was, perhaps, instinctive that he shot at Madara, even when a part of him knew that it would be useless -- a rapid succession of shots aimed at Madara's face, just between the eyes, before Kazama lunged forward, once more trying to reach the kids, to get them out of here. (As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that they were all weaknesses, himself included -- maybe if they were removed from the equation, Itachi would be able to fight back, defend himself.)

[incarnadines]

Holding his eyes-- his brother's eyes, his real eyes-- hostage. Oh, it was cold. But of course, not any colder than what Madara was pulling. It drew a laugh from him, low and acquiescing. He allowed Kazama to escape from his grasp and made no move to retrieve him. His hand drifted toward Itachi, not to reach for the eye yet but to cup his cheek, smearing the blood that seeped from his socket with an affectionate caress.

That tender moment was interrupted by Kazama. His aim was perfect. The bullets hit-- or appeared to, except that no blood poured from the holes they made, and the bullets passed straight through his head, full speed, to collide with the wall behind Madara. It was as if Madara wasn't actually there, just an illusion. The holes in his head vanished as quickly as they appeared and Madara cast a mildly irritated look at Kazama. Not for the murder attempt but for ruining the romance. Or whatever it was. It was time to say goodbye to his favorite student. He didn't want to deal with pests on top of it.

"Give them to me now, you treacherous weakling," Madara hissed, attention returning to Itachi. "I'm not interested in these children. They can't even put up a fun fight. The eyes, Itachi. You will place them in my hand this instant, unharmed, or everyone here will be slaughtered. I'm making the rules now, you see. We're playing on my terms." His hand lowered, palm open and ready.

[pogromanate]

The urge and temptation for the small circular piece of flesh that was in hand to be crushed and send ooze through the spaces of his fingers raised with each movement and word that came from Madara’s feral mouth. And when he felt the touch of palm against his bloodied face, Itachi violently flinched to avoid it, tilting his head to the side as his head the faint background sound of bullets being sped past him. Itachi closed his eyes -- empty and not -- slowly, already accepting the realization of his impending death, and playing the part of a martyr for the sake of the others in the room.

If they were not an obstacle, and if they did not appear in the first place, than surrender would have not been such a hasty option. But at this moment, it seemed to be the only one.

His good eye flickered to Kazama in hopes that he would get them out before they themselves were reduced to nothing but ignited corpses. And once Kazama had left, sweeping his way to the others that were either occupied by hiding themselves or engaging in fighting with the other Uchiha, Itachi turned his gaze back to Madara. The degrading words that slithered from his mouth and whispered to his ears seemed nothing but static, ignoring the taunts and warning as his fingers squeezed the red orb in his hand until faint threads of blood slipped from between his fingers. The pulse quickened in his disfigured socket and a low exhale left him as sharp and cold movements closed the proximity between them both.

Without looking at the open palm before him, Itachi opened his own -- it smudged with blood and the small object encased in wires of nerves. But nonetheless, his own eye still embedded in his skull was settled on Madara, lips tightened in stern indifference and that typical disapproving apathy. With fingertips, he let the eye dangle from the optical nerve before placing it in Madara’s hand lifelessly. There was no doubt in Madara’s words in slaughtering everyone if his demands were not met, the man was barbaric, and it disgusted Itachi how they were bound by blood. "-- satisfied?" He said with a cold sharp mocking edge, "No. Of course not...well, unfortunately. It's not my place to make you so, unless they leave. Or would you rather I only leave you with one of what you seek?" Even with his self-inflicted blindness, it would have only taken a split second to demolish the other eye.

[incarnadines]

No, he wasn't satisfied. However, one was better than none, and he would reach out to pluck the other from Itachi's skull himself if it wasn't given voluntarily. He raised his opposite hand, preparing, but before he could make his move, yet another one of Itachi's little friends appeared. Madara barely turned his head to look at her before her leg swiped through him. Yes, through. Fast as she was, she couldn't possibly be faster than him. The half of his body she meant to collide with vanished into thin air. A split second later, the rest of him followed.

When he reappeared, the eye that he'd been holding was gone, leaving his hands free for combat. "Darling, it's rude to interrupt," he said to her, and without a moment's hesitation he called upon a technique that Itachi would find very familiar: Amaterasu. Black flames erupted on her arm and began to consume it quickly, eating it down to the bone like no earthly flame ever could. It was a pity... Madara found her beautiful. He would have liked to take her for himself, but only in these few seconds, she was hideously disfigured.

Madara swerved back to Itachi, lips pulled back into a sneer. He thrust out his hand again, palm upward. "Give me the eye and I'll dispel the flames! Or is your pride such that you would allow your own wife to perish in agony?"

[pogromanate]

His remaining red hues flickered to the others that were still occupied in the household. In hope of them not wasting another moment in engaging with a useless fight and sought for their own safety before prolonging the deal of removing his other eye and settling it in his former-mentor’s palm. Still, his gaze returned to Madara, the fingers that were to reach up to jerk the other eye from Itachi’s socket were avoided, and yet there was another noise that caught his attention, causing Itachi to take a step back and grasp at the katana that was rested against the wall -- his hand clasped around the sheath of the blade as his eye followed the quick movements that were of his wife.

"Soifon, get out." Were his words that came in a desperate -- yet bitter -- order. Despite her own strength and elegant brutality that they both endured whilst sparring, she was not strong enough to fight against Madara. And the wisp of his invincibility was predictable. The words that Madara spoke after the flame was lit and started to engulf her arm were completely ignored and Itachi played ignorant to him (he would not risk giving him the eye for a unfulfilled promise) as Itachi, with swift speed, was beside Soifon, the blade was removed from the sheath and before long and with a graceful arc in the air, Itachi dismembered the burnt limb.

Fingers coiled around his discarded smouldering Akatsuki robe and he swiftly draped it around his wife, his other arm wrapped around her torso and his a flare of hate and disgust surged through him as his eye went back to Madara, and there was a low sound of absolute disrespect and disregard for his former mentor as the pattern in his own remaining eye swirled and he waited, a low exhale before his gaze caught those that were now exiting the estate and the walls were soon enough covered in black flame, swallowing the estate whole as his arms picked up Soifon, holding her to his chest and retreated quickly out of a broken window and away from the devouring flames.