DVD Fanfiction Meme, part one of googol

[elementalhero]

Part of this meme.

bellzooks  requested Kill All Your Friends, and I happily oblige.  (This should probably be on my writing journal, but I posted the meme with this one, so too bad.)

 

Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

 

This quote means nothing. Literally, I was looking all over the place for a quote, and I finally tacked this one on, just because I’ve always liked it, and I ended up getting all these reviews going, “I loved the Poe quote, I feel it really expressed the theme and tied it all together,” and stuff, and I was like, “WTF ARE YOU ON, IT MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL.” But, lawl. I find it hilarious and interesting that people can try so hard to read into stuff—and not out of a sense of superiority, either, because I definitely do that all the time.

 

--

 

Within a dark storage room, several things: 

 

A young man, torn to pieces by the demons of his own making. 

 

The face of an immortal.

 

Truth and lies and truth in lies, and a whispered exhortation:

 

“Remember. Remember Itachi.”

 

I think I added this just to have an excuse to go back and reread the post-Itachi Madara&Sasuke scene. ILU, Sasuke~

 

--

 

Half a world away, she remembers.

 

It’s probably not really that far away.

 

--

 

The chakra behind her was unmistakable, even though she hadn’t felt it in about eight years. Since he’d been made chūnin, in fact.

 

*sings* It’s been eight bitter years since I’ve been seein’ your face...

 

“Well, well, if it isn’t little Itachi-kun,” Anko chuckled without turning around to face the missing-nin. She added with trademark irreverence, “I always knew he’d come for me one day.”

 

“It’s been a while, Anko-sempai,” the man behind her agreed.

 

She had to suppress shivers at the sound of his voice—ridiculously deeper, so much that she could almost feel her ribs vibrate. CRISPIN MOTHEREFFIN’ FREEMAN. I can’t remember the name of his Japanese VA, but THAT GUY, ALSO. YEAH. So this was what had become of the adorably stoic ten-year-old that she’d teased and tormented and bought ramen for. He’d grown up into this silent demon of eighteen, sneaking up on old creaky-boned special jōnin and making them feel absolutely decrepit at the age of twenty-four.

 

Oh yeah, and he’d killed his entire family, too. Mustn’t forget that one.

 

Anko’s voice is absolutely, phenomenally, spectacularly fun to write in.

 

“So, here to tell me my number’s up? Shinigami-sama’s finally come for my soul? Lurid assassination attempt? Come on, excite me, Itachi-kun,” she drawled, still not turning around. She’d be dodging even before a shuriken or kunai could leave his hand, and lazily displaying her back to any enemy was a pretty good way of insulting them by making them think she didn’t take them seriously. Plus, she secretly didn’t want to see him. She had a feeling it would make her feel even older. And more decrepit. And probably depressed. “We special Konoha jōnin need some exercise now and again.”

 

She heard a slight shift behind her.  “Your wit is as cutting as ever, Anko-sempai,” he said.

 

Anko sighed. “So what do you need?”

 

Because that’s definitely a legitimate reaction. *sigh*

 

A pause, then. “Tell me where Uzumaki Naruto is,” Itachi said, not a request, but a command. A softly spoken, barely inflected command, but a command nonetheless. Anko could feel her heart rate going up in preparation for battle—the fight or flight response, she knew, a deeply ingrained behavior of an animal before a predator.

 

Itachi’s just looking for an excuse to talk to Anko. I didn’t know if it was obvious enough. But that sentence sounds so stupid in my head without a rationalization. 

 

“How should I know?” she shrugged with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “I just gave him his Chūnin Exam, that’s all.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, why would you even think to ask me?”

 

Good question.

 

She heard him move closer behind her and tensed. Itachi said, in a voice several degrees colder than previously, “I don’t think that matters. Tell me where he is.” guh--*drool*

 

“I don’t know,” Anko insisted. Her left hand went slowly up her left sleeve, feeling silently for the small shuriken she kept hidden in a special pocket. To cover this motion, she allowed her right hand to twitch towards the shuriken holster on her thigh. “Why not ask someone else?” she continued, trying to distract him. “You know, someone qualified. Like the Konoha Military Police Force. Oh, oops, my bad. Those were the men and women you slaughtered in their sleep.”

 

Ouch, Anko. Ouch. She knows the buttons to punch. Even though it’s not like the Uchiha were all dreaming peacefully while their throats were slit, it was definitely a struggle—but then, I doubt she cares.

 

“I’m getting impatient,” he whispered right behind her—

 

Anko snatched a kunai in her right hand, to feel the knife-edge of his hand come down on her wrist, but she had whipped a shuriken down at their feet with the other hand, and the exploding tag it was attached to sent her tumbling forward with no little momentum (and maybe a burn on one ankle but nothing awful), and sent him dodging back gracefully to brace himself against her windowsill.

 

Such an awkward way to describe something that’s not supposed to be so awkward. I suck so, so, so much at action sequences, honestly, kill me.

 

Anko had maybe a split second upon turning around to see him, and no time at all to stop and marvel at his height, his bearing, the strange design of his cloak, or the fact that he was wearing more nail polish than she had even worn cumulatively in her life, before she was flashing through hand signs and—

 

Itachi’s such a beauty queen, really. In my head, he started the trend of nail polish in Akatsuki—because he has a legitimate reason. The nail polish on his fingers draws the eye, and then he does that finger thing he does in Shippuuden to catch the looker in a genjutsu ( I explained this even better in a meme somewhere, must find and memorize the wording I used). And then everyone else copied him because he’s so cool. Getting off topic, whoa.

 

—right behind her again, and she only had enough time to bite her thumb and brush the ground, but no time to force the chakra down before he peppered her feet with shuriken, forcing her back the way he had been, and there was the window, shit—

 

I wonder what she was going to summon. Probably snakes.

 

—her eyes flicked upwards in a moment of unbalance, and met his purely by accident—

 

WTF, self? What is unbalance? *leaves it in so everyone can see how much she fails*

 

—(crimson like bloodstains pooling behind the black patterns tracing the eyes of generations) and she had time enough to think, his eyelashes are longer than mine, dammit—

 

I think the real reason I ship these two is because of their combined Eyelash Power. Seriously. Also, please lawl at my fail!description of the Sharingan.

 

—and then the shuriken dotting the floor fluttered upward as crows, flapping noisily around the room and buffeting her face with gusts of wind and feathers.

 

“Shimatta,” Anko swore, thoroughly disgusted with herself.

 

I think I romanized that incorrectly. Help, plz?

 

“I have no intention of fighting you,” Itachi said, disconcertingly at ease among the illusory carrion birds circling the both of them. “I just want to talk.”

 

“You’re cute when you’re persistent,” Anko said sweetly. She clapped her hands together, twisting her chakra as much as it would allow. “Kai!”

 

She struggled with his genjutsu for a good two minutes, sweat trickling down her cheeks and from hr forehead into her eyes. Itachi simply watched, his expression as close to amusement as it would get. Anko growled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said

 

Itachi shrugged. “You’re cute when you’re persistent, Anko-sempai.” The fact that he could throw her own words in her face and barely even change expression to make it worth it only enhanced Anko’s bad mood. “Again, I assure you, I only want to speak with you.”

 

OH BURN.

 

“Will you stop it with the ‘Anko-sempai’ already?” she snapped. “I stopped being your senior when you stopped being a Konoha ninja.” Her eyes pointedly raked across the long scratch on his hitai-ate, halving the leaf symbol etched upon it. “Speaking of which, someone’s going to be here in about five or so minutes, wondering about that exploding tag, and find an S-rank missing-nin occupied with keeping little old me busy with…crows.” She batted one away from her face just to punctuate her statement. “I’d be worried.”

 

OH DOUBLE BURN. I love Anko’s refusal to be intimidated. I also love the sentence about the hitai-ate, for no specific reason.

 

Itachi blinked, and Anko counted it as a victory. Even though his eyes were probably just dry. “I had heard about Sandaime-sama’s death,” he said, and inclined his head. “My condolences.”

 

“I’m sure you’d be heartbroken,” Anko replied, “if you had a heart.”

 

OH TRIPLE BURN WITH BURNSAUCE. I think that the pause for the dialogue tag in the middle is what makes this so spectacularly awesome. (What humility?)

 

“His advisors. Danzo. They haven’t called any unusual meetings, have they?” Itachi asked. 

 

It was such a non sequitur that Anko took a few seconds to even realize what he had said. Random Latin in addition to random Japanese. YAY. “Umm, do you mean before the treaty meetings with Sunagakure or after the committee nomination of the next Hokage or between the selections of the new chūnin?”

 

“They haven’t contacted any of the genin?”

 

Anko felt like she had missed a crucial chunk of the conversation. “What in the world would that have to do with Uzumaki Naruto?” she demanded.

 

Another very good question. Gawd, Itachi’s dialogue in this...

 

Itachi ignored her, muttering, “I need to find Danzo…”

 

Okay, being beaten in a fight and put in a genjutsu was one thing, but this was just insulting. “What the hell do you need that stiff for? He’s as old as dirt and probably half as clean. And you didn’t answer my question.”

 

“Well, considering I’m the one interrogating you…” Itachi said pointedly, and snakes melted up from the floor to entwine her ankles, just to show her. Anko rolled her eyes at the theatrics of it all.

 

Kinky. (I’m sorry, I had to say it.)

 

“You’re doing a terrible job of it, in fact,” she pointed out. “I mean, come on, no fire? Endless katana-stabby? Thumbscrews? Melting faces? Worst fears? All you’ve managed to do so far is piss me off.” Anko licked the blood off her throbbing thumb. She hadn’t even had time to summon anything, and now her thumb was going to hurt all day. That really sucked. Of course, getting murdered in her own office by an old somewhat-friend sucked too, but she didn’t feel like focusing on that part.

 

Anko. To a T. I may hate my Itachi in this particular fic, but I make up for it with Anko. IMO. (haha, humility is out the window today)

 

“…I felt no need, that’s all.”

 

“Oh, you liar,” Anko grinned. “You can’t lie to me, though. I know you too well.”

 

A small twitch at the corner of one lip—did she just see that? Did he almost smile? “So ka?” Is that so?  Is that romanized correctly? “You think I should tell you the truth, then?”

 

“No,” Anko said. “I don’t think you can.”

 

Itachi simply closed his eyes and inclined his head a little. “Why not?”

 

“The truth doesn’t exist, that’s why. It’s no more real than these crows, or this conversation we’re having right now. You might be able to see it, or touch it, but in reality, it’s nothing more than a mirage.”

 

There’s a paradox somewhere in that last sentence. Existentialism, for the suddenlyphilosophical!win.

 

“Interesting.” Itachi nodded to her. “Anko-san,” he said. The crows suddenly thickened, until there was nothing around Anko but blackness, and then she was back in her office and Itachi was gone.

 

She didn’t notice until much later that there were fresh flowers on Hayate’s and the Sandaime’s graves, many petals of which could be found around her window.

 

Yeah...there were flowers... in his, uh, coat. Shut up.

 

--

 

The child stared with evident confused horror at the dripping kunai she held, at the tourniquet stained with dark poison-laced blood, at their teammate’s expression, twisted in pain, and at her face, glistening with sweat and smeared with dirt and blood. “Why…” he whispered, “why did you…?”

 

She sighed, shaking her head. “Kid, sometimes… Sometimes you have to hurt people to save them.”

 

I should have explored that line more. It was really good.

 

--

 

Hot sick burning waves of pain seared up and down her neck and face and ribs. She could only scream as the curse sunk deeper into her flesh, twisting and scorching her cells and chakra. Dimly, through the haze of agony, she thought she perceived a sort of cruel malice in it, as if the curse seal itself were a live thing that knew and enjoyed her suffering. Curse seal is fun to describe.

 

Right there, she grimly promised herself, This thing will never take me alive.

 

Me, suddenly returning to the song that this is supposed to be based on. Awkward turtle.

 

--

 

They sat side by side.

 

“I’m sorry you didn’t make it, Anko-sempai,” he said.

 

She shrugged. “Well, neither of us made it last year, on the same team. Maybe I just needed to get you out of my hair.” She ruffled his hair to let him know it was one of her backhanded compliments. “I know I rank lower than you now, but seeing as how I’m still a billion years older than you, I’m proud of you.”

 

Aww, chibi-Itachi is so kyuuuuuute~

 

“Everyone’s proud of me,” he said quietly, with an abrupt sort of bitterness. “Everyone’s always been proud of me. For no real reason.”

 

This is straight from my experience as a person who learns things a bit too easily—whatever you’re especially proud of, no one really responds to, and whatever comes far too easily to you for you to take joy in, others freak out about. *sigh*

 

She rubbed harder on his head and gave him a whack for good measure. “I’m proud you didn’t get killed. I’m proud you kicked that Waterfall guy’s ass. I’m proud you didn’t faint at the sight of blood. I’m proud you’re still girlier than me. How about that?”

 

Anko’s pep talks are amazing. I want one.

 

He smiled slightly, a rare and rewarding sight for her. “Good enough, I guess, Anko-sempai. Or…are you my sempai anymore? Now that I’m chūnin?” A slight note of teasing had entered his normally colorless voice.

 

I think I just like the idea of Itachi using “sempai.” For some reason, he strikes me as one who would.

 

“Give it up, Itachi-kun. I’ll always be your sempai, even when you’re Hokage and I’m the toilet-cleaner-lady,” she said, moving to whack him again. This time, he dodged.

 

Toilet cleaner Anko, ftfw.

 

“So…” he said, “does this make us…friends…Anko-sempai?”

 

She froze. He noticed. “I…I mean…it’s nothing. I’m sorry. Forget it.”

 

I meant to go into some Orochimaru-related Anko angst here and how she would always make friends with the next in line to die, until she quit making them anymore because it hurt too much. WTF, self, this is kind of an important and much more coherent exploration of the entire theme of the piece. Idiot.

 

He looked away, and she immediately felt guilty. She grabbed his elbow. “Listen.”

 

“It’s okay,” he said, turning and giving her a very convincing smile.

 

“Don’t lie. I hate that. You can’t lie to me,” she said, attempting a quick smile in return. “I’m practically the queen of lying.”

 

Back to lying versus truth theme. Except, why is Anko the queen of lying? What was I on here? Explanations of motifs are nice things to add, author-self.

 

She sighed. “Just listen, because I’m only going to say this once, Itachi-kun. Shinobi are tools. I know you’ve heard this. Shinobi are tools, and as such, we can be called on at any time, to do anything. To spy. To sabotage. To kill. I learned this lesson at…hell, around your age—a shinobi must not make friends. Better called upon to kill a country full of strangers than to kill a single friend.”

 

Okay, we get a slightly more acceptable explanation here. But still, I wish I’d remembered to work Oro-chan in here.

 

Itachi glanced at her through the hair hanging in his face. “So you’re saying I should not consider you a friend, Anko-sempai?”

 

She hesitated, the answer caught somewhere between her heart and her throat. “No,” she said softy. “You shouldn’t.”

 

He gave her a final, searching look with those impenetrable black eyes of his, and nodded. “I’ll try…Anko-sempai.”

 

She had said it for his own good, after all. She could not understand why it felt like a betrayal.

 

--

 

It was late at night. It could be a dream. She vaguely remembered something like waking up at a noise, perhaps a scuffle, but not much else. Or it could be a genjutsu, cast by some really sadistic bastard who really knew what freaked her out.

 

It was just really scary waking up in the middle of the night to see Uchiha Itachi sitting by your bed, that’s all.

 

This would be perfect if I didn’t overuse the word “really.” Fail, self.

 

She was so convinced it was a bad dream that she didn’t even bother to react. She blurted out the first thing she could think to say—“Naruto’s not here.”

 

“No,” Itachi agreed, speaking so softly it was a wonder she could hear. It was a new moon that night—the stars outside just barely illuminated the lines of his body. The small, softly glowing red disks of his Sharingan were the only other indication of his position.

 

I think Sharingan glow in the dark. No reason, it’s just a cool mental image.

 

“Sasuke’s gone, too.” She could have imagined his small flinch at her words.

 

Weird sentence there—I never realized how many ways you could interpret it. I meant in the very awkward sense of, she knew/heard him flinch in the dark, and thought she might have imagined it.

 

“…I know.”

 

“So why are you here? I hope it’s not to kill me,” she yawned.

 

Itachi shook his head; she could hear his hair swishing in the dark. “Why do you always assume I’m here to kill you? I just want to talk.”

 

This is true—Itachi just pops up in canon, minding his own business, and everybody freaks out at him. It must get very frustrating after a while.

 

“Like hell,” Anko said.

 

He was suddenly on top of her, his hands pinning her arms down and one knee in her gut and his hair brushing her face—they were nearly nose-to-nose. She was suddenly wide awake, every neuron in her brain screaming, Oh shit, Anko, this is not a dream this is not a dream—

 

SuddenlyVeryAngryAndCausingMajorUST!Itachi shows up! Insert tasteless, tactless, gratuitous rape joke here, causing many to be offended and write to their congresspersons.

 

“‘Like hell,’ Anko?” he bit out, and she could only think, My God, I’ve pushed him over the edge. “Why? Why does it always come down to violence? Did it ever occur to anyone that violence could ever be avoided, wars averted, lives saved, by the simple act of sitting down and talking? Do you know how many times I’ve said this? Do you know how many times it’s turned out the same?” It’s true; he always just wants to talk right off the bat. His eyes burned with a strange, feverish light, somewhere between sickness and madness. His hands, where they held her forearms, trembled and shook. The strangest thought occurred to Anko—he looked like he was dying, somehow, dying slowly and with full consciousness of the fact.

 

I can’t imagine what it must be like to know you’re rotting from the inside out, and not be able to do anything about it besides hope that your asstarded little brother comes and kills you off soon.

 

“Itachi,” she said. “I can’t breathe.”

 

And it’s definitely only because of that knee in her gut, right?

 

He looked down, and stood up, removing the knee from her solar plexus. “Sumimasen.” My deepest apologies.

 

“You know, I’m still convinced this is a dream, Itachi-kun,” she warned him, trying to push the events of the last thirty seconds out of her mind—his breath on her cheek and the haunted look she had glimpsed in the depths of his eyes. “This is too weird for reality.”

 

“People live their lives bound by what they accept as correct and true,” he said, as though reciting something from memory. “That is their reality.”

 

I’ll laugh if Viz Media translates that differently from the fansubbers.

 

Silence, in the dark. “…I told you that once,” she whispered, some unnamable emotion crawling up her throat, constricting it.

 

Really, I do think that sounds like an Anko quote. Although what I should have done was to make her say that back in the friend speech scene, and then not have her say that, because it was already stated.

 

Itachi nodded. “I never forgot,” he said. “So tell me…” He leaned in, close, too close. “Is this real?” he whispered, his breath wafting against her lips, his hair tickling her eyelashes, so close she could feel his body heat—

 

And kissed her.

 

*drools again* Oh, vicarious living through fanfiction. Itachi is such a sex magnet, geez~

 

A moment of unreal washed over her, so acute she could feel it from her toes to the top of her head. This wasn’t happening. Uchiha Itachi was not here. He was not kissing her. She was not kissing back.

 

And she was not wishing for it never to end.

 

It stopped suddenly. He was across the room, by the window, his back to her as hers had been to him that one time.

 

Psych! Don’t look at me, I can’t write physical romance.

 

“It wasn’t real, was it?” she asked softly, knowing the answer and fearing it.

 

“…No.” He turned his head to look back at her. “It was the truth.”

 

...aaww...

 

--

 

Mitarashi Anko.

 

She was the only one he’d never lied to.

 

Well, in words is what I meant. As opposed to just allowing her to proceed with an erroneous assumption.

 

owari.

 

Track one of DVD meme is over! Next up is...not sure. Whichever one came next in the comments. Till then, folks.

Comments

[feilyn.livejournal.com]

Oh, I still love this. You do write a fabulous Anko.

I understand completely on the physical romance side. It's hard.

hee, it's good to see that I'm not the only person who just shoves stuff in there because it sounds cool :P I need to do some more writing >.> After my exam on Thursday. Yes.

[okroginator.livejournal.com]

^^ Thanks! That's encouraging, at least.

I knooooow! D< I guess the fact that I've never kissed a guy for more than seven seconds doesn't help...

Tee hee. I like to find awesome cool stuff for names, too.

[feilyn.livejournal.com]

It's troooooooooooooooooooo~

*never kissed anyone, ever* :P

Ooooo, naming stuff is fun. Bella and I had fun renaming Itachi for Ozy :P