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SHADOWS

Part 01

Hear Me

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He would never say this out loud, but he liked the sound of her voice.

In his lifetime, he'd never heard anything like it.

The moment he was destined to meet her, a part of him – he would admit this until later, however, – decided, albeit unconsciously, that she was one of a kind.

Uchiha Itachi was a boy of few words. If he needed to speak, he did. If he needed to add a comment here or there, he did without qualms because it was expected of him. The honor of the Uchiha rested on his small, not yet truly adolescent, shoulders. It was what a shinobi expected of a prodigy.

However, silence was something he was familiar with. Silence was welcome; noise was not...until he heard her.

It all started simply enough.

In the forest, an abundant view in the Land of Fire, and one of the few places he could feel free in and roam without intervention, if just for short moments.

He was never a child of liberties and had never demonstrated the stress of being one of the most gifted of the Uchiha. Carrying with the clan's expectations, the burden of killing at such a small age, the memories of the Second Shinobi War still fresh in his mind, exhausted him.

If someone noticed, he or she kept their mouths shut. If someone kept track of the drawn lines weariness created on his face, they never bothered to mention it.

He was serving only a purpose in that someone's eyes, and that purpose was that of loyal servitude to Konoha and his Clan.

But like that someone, Itachi never voiced anything, either.

No, he remained emotionless, stoic, and blank, drowned in his lapses of infinite silence.

It was the one thing that he barely asked for, that opportunity of private tranquility, and therefore (since he never requested a single thing to begin with), it was the only thing he was often graced with by his peers and family, with the exception of his brother, Sasuke.

But then again, his ototo was a very special case.

Sasuke was everything Itachi wished to have. His brother was so innocent, so...childish, and he was one of the scarce people Itachi really cared for and listened to, aside from his cousin and best friend, Shisui.

So it came as an odd – if not a bit unsettling – surprise when his skilled ears, highly adapted in recognizing diminutive noises, heard it.

No, not it; her.

It was a female.

There was typically nothing that fazed him, nothing that could make him bat an eyelash, and no one that caught him off-guard.

He was Uchiha Itachi; those things scarcely occurred to him.

But that day, he managed to accomplish all of the above without a second's notice.

The sound of a sobbed lullaby, a crib song, a childishly haunting tune, gently probed at his ears, words whispering for permission to come on in and invade his sense of audio.

It was something new, the experience of hearing someone sing.

He hadn't thought about such a silly thing until the moment he caught wind of her broken soprano crying to the loneliness of the dark forest, filling it with a heavy grief, but it was a startling conclusion.

He realized, then, that his mother, Uchiha Mikoto, had never sung to him as a child, and for some reason, the undeniable fact hit something inside of his chest. At first, he didn't recognize the peculiar feeling for what it really was, nor would he for a while, so he tossed it away carelessly, not wanting – or needing – to analyze it.

It was of no importance to him if he heard songs or not; it wasn't in his nature to appreciate noise, or even tolerate it. Besides, he'd grown up too fast to give his mother a chance to lull him to sleep with her clear voice. He was a shinobi, not a kid learning how to play tag.

He had killed, his hands were covered with the blood of his enemies. He was not innocent or ignorant of the way his village operated.

He wasn't Sasuke.

He was Itachi.

He was twelve, and yet, age did nothing to decrease the weight he was given to carry.

At the same time, children were graduating from the Academy as fresh Genins in rank, he was escalating his way in the ANBU Department of Konoha, surpassing elite Jonins and hard-working amateur ANBU with so not so much as a scar visible on his skin.

The life of a ninja was difficult. The life of a prodigy with the Sharingan and natural skill was even tougher, but no complaints ever dared to cross his lips.

Maybe that was what made him stay that afternoon in which the birds flew for home and the sun set in the horizon, bringing with its departure the oppressing dusk, with its shadows and darkness only light was capable to disperse.

Maybe – he would think in later years as he looked back at that date in which his destiny changed, – he was tired of routine. Maybe he wanted to try something different in that life of his that seemed written in stone; unmovable, unchangeable. He was to live to his father's – to his Clan's – expectations and pride.

He was to represent the Uchihas, live not for himself, but for his Clan and inheritance, not as an individual, but as an enigma of power no one else could match.

So maybe (he would conclude in his future years), he wanted something for himself for once.

So he stayed to hear her the first time...and came back the day after.

He never left his spot on the tallest tree, not because he feared she would find him, but because he didn't want to see her face.

He knew that if he caught a glimpse of the human music-box, he would be doomed. He appreciated the tunes she sang, as much as he would like to think otherwise, but it was better, for both of them, if their presences and identities were kept in the dark.

So he became her temporary shadows, always there when she was, but never straying away from the forest and loaded trees.

His empty silence was now filled with her voice whenever she came, which he discovered, was often.

It took him two days to analyze and determine her schedule, and when he had time or was free of high-ranked missions, he went to her without her knowledge, never seeing her face, but always hearing her songs.

Months came and went, and his routinized life was as dull as blunt kunai blades, except for his time with his foolish ototo and the soft voice that didn't fit with the gloomy atmosphere of the depths of the abandoned forest.

Itachi knew that things never stayed the same, however. He was aware that nothing was forever, that changes, like the seasons, were bound to come and go.

But, as knowledgeable as he was, he didn't think of change when her voice didn't come.

It was a day like any other, the beginning of summer was nearing, and with it, the hottest days of the year.

As much as he wished to discharge his black shirt (a color that absorbed all wavelengths and heat), and as much as his tongue became parched, thirsting for cool liquid, he stayed, believing her to be late.

So he waited for the little voice of that person to show up and sing to his ears and fill the desolate surroundings.

But she never did.

He waited even though the seconds of the clock ran and time escaped him; he stayed in place until the sun sank and twilight appeared; he was filled with light anxiety as the moon rose and no sorrowful lullabies came to ease the heavy sensation at the pit of his stomach.

He waited for her voice to reach him like it always did, but his expectations were fruitless.

She never showed.

For the first time in a long time, the nightbird's constant lullaby of shattered hopes and building dreams stopped singing.

OOOO

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-Next: Part 02: Watch Me

"He would never say this out loud, but he liked to observe her..."

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A/N: Honestly, I have no idea if this ItaHina meets the requirements for a dabble...but the chapters won't be as long as the ones in my other stories and though this tale has a small plot, I couldn't get this out of my head while I wrote 'Dear Stranger, Make Me Remember.' This doesn't mean I'll stop updating Nightmares, DSMMR, or Free Ravens (all SasuHina); it's just that I noticed that there has to be more Hinata FanFictions! Come on, let's support this lovely character, guys!

Anyhow, Follow/Favorite & Review. I'd be forever grateful!

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