Chapter Text
Uchiha Aiko slumps forward, and Itachi's eyes are full of tears, his pupils spinning. Bile rises in his throat.
He did not see what he did to his Imoto.
He heaves. He should have seen what he sent her. Something went wrong. Aiko is not screaming. Not crying. She is still. Itachi sees that her chest stops.
He killed her.
Itachi nearly screams. Nearly howls, as his trembling hands grip at his little sister. She isn’t breathing. He doesn’t know medical justu beyond basic diagnostics. Nothing for a stopped heart. He has only ever stopped hearts, never started them again.
He feels more like a monster than when he cut his mother’s and father’s heads.
It wasn’t supposed to be Aiko. I did this for her.
Itachi does the only he does know. He places a heel of his palm over his shaking hand, and he starts to manually pump her chest. He hears a crack in his haste, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going. If he stops, he admits that he murdered his sister.
Madara lands next to him.
“... Itachi! ITACHI!”
Itachi realizes with a start that he is howling, crying, as he tries to revive his sister. Madara is screaming his name. Itachi barely cares to listen.
" Aiko, Aiko, Aiko ," he realizes that it is her name, desperate. He does not sound like himself. Not even human as her name runs together, in a snarling howl, " aikoaikoaikoaiko ."
Madara throws him aside.
Itachi is already reacting, scrambling, howling . He only stops as the green light comes from Madara’s fingertips. Itachi sobs, and pleads to anything that will listen.
His Ancestor makes quick work. He carves her open.
Her still, still heart is visible to him.
Itachi keens.
There is something wrong with it. The shape of it is wrong. A small, visible, near-perfect tare lays in his sister’s heart. He knows enough of hearts to know that is dangerous.
"The shock of it sent her into cardiac arrest. Her heart was too weak for it."
Something white comes from Madara’s hand. He seals her heart. Her chest. Green hands stay, linger.
It takes a moment.
Then Aiko’s chest moves, once, twice.
She breathes. A rattling noise. But it is audible. She’s alive.
“It’ll hold her until they reach her,” mummers Madara, and he carefully arranges Aiko, hand lingering on her cheek.
Itachi crawls to her.
“Aiko,” he rasps, and he has to feel her pulse for himself. It is weak. But it is enough.
“We must go.”
Itachi places a kiss on his sister’s forehead.
He cannot look back as he flees into the night.