The feeling of having his eyes back sent a sentimental thrill that coursed through Itachi’s blood, and the more he looked at the living Tsukuyomi the more he appreciated the sentiment.
It was a sentiment that told Itachi that he didn’t lose everything, with the evidence being the eyes now shining upon the moon above.
Ever since speaking Tsukuyomi’s name, the natural guard Itachi had put up against the crow was lowered down a bit, ensuring a mutual connection of familiarity and understanding between them – a certain amount of trust.
“Is there any reason why you’re here and not Amaterasu? It should be okay to speak to the both of you as long as I’m not using your abilities, shouldn’t it?”
“Should it?” The reflective speech pattern of Tsukuyomi was an integral aspect of its being, as Itachi quickly understood. “I would not know. If you can’t hear Amaterasu’s voice yet then it is not a matter of our choice but rather your soul. Also, I haven’t seen Amaterasu since I woke up in this endless world of Illusions.”
Itachi’s face remained as impassive as it always was, yet his mind went through a few loops the longer he conversed with Tsukuyomi who was essentially his Mangekyō’s left eye.
The complications with his accessing his Mangekyō aside, knowing that he had to do the same for Amaterasu left him confused as to how to feel.
“If I have to guess, the fate of us meeting first lies with the fact that you are more likely to draw on my strength far more easily than you would with Amaterasu.”
Honestly, if Itachi had found himself in an entirely different setting that didn’t include Shinigamis and creating a Zanpakutō spirit, his thoughts on his abilities would have been worlds apart from the views he had now.
If Tsukuyomi was a part of his soul, then so also was Amaterasu.
Given he was now a soul form, the stress on strengthening his soul was something he had figured out a long time ago, except that he didn’t consider the astronomical toll his abilities, now given life, would have on his soul.
“Is this Zanpakutō your permanent body, or can I transfer your soul to another sword?”
“Fortunately and unfortunately, this has become my permanent residence. The blade is merely the direct link between our souls.” Since it seemed knowledgeable in respect to his existence, Itachi readily accepted its words while asking any questions he came up with.
In the inner world of Tsukuyomi, the concept of time and space were easily subverted, and with the Tsukuyomi expressing most of Itachi’s habits as he is an integral part of the latter’s soul, their words were spoken within intervals of long silence that felt like hours.
“What about my ninjutsu? Can I freely use them now?” Unlike the plain and tattered robe he entered the World of Illusions with, the crows around him melded into it, transforming it into a black cloak with red clouds on it.
While he had great misgivings about his identity when he wore this cloak during his life, the only thing he felt for it in death were mild feelings that he dismissed.
“I wouldn’t know, do you?”
“I see.” Nodding, Itachi left that as something he would try when he goes back. He remained silent, content in watching the red skies and floating clouds in an eerie world, one that represented his own inner self.
“What do you see when you look pass the clouds, Itachi Uchiha? Is there another world beyond the skies of this real illusion?” Tsukuyomi spoke, its crimson eyes staring at Itachi whose eyes remained staring into the clouds as if in a daze.
“I see nothing.” Itachi said, “The heart does not hunger for what the eyes do not see – the world beyond me has nothing to do with me.”
“…I see.” Tsukuyomi’s gigantic form started shimmering and slowly started peeling off into feathers. “Time is eternal, Itachi Uchiha. And pain fades with it.”
Itachi didn’t reply, even as Tsukuyomi disappeared into multitudes of crows and feathers, only muttering after the cries of the crows became distant.
“Eternity doesn’t fade away, Tsukuyomi.”
Feeling something in his grasp, he looked at his hands and wrapping his fingers around was a tanto, a very normal looking one blade with no uniqueness in his form or aesthetics.
Holding the blades in his hands, he heard Tsukuyomi’s voice in his head congratulating him on reaching what that Shinigami Captain had called a Shikai.
Taking a last glance at the never-ending red sky, Itachi thought. ‘Eternity might not fade away, but everything else does.’
…….
Opening his eyes, Itachi looked at the sword in his hands that was now transformed into a basic looking short sword in his hands.
From his brief talk with Tsukuyomi and getting a proper feeling of the blade in his hands, he instinctively understood that the blade wasn’t complete – it felt lacking.
Right now, what he was holding was Tsukuyomi’s Shikai form, meaning the blade may change upon him accessing Amaterasu.
He could feel the qualitative increase from achieving his Shikai, even if a partial one, and with it came a certain comfort.
Looking at his bandaged hand, Itachi fought back a wince upon remembering his fight with the Division Captain who wielded a sword of flames. It was the irony of the abilities they wielded that caused the pain rather than a physical stimulant.
He who possessed the black flames of Amaterasu that burned all to ashes was hurt by flames.
Foregoing that thought, taking a deep breath, he brought his two hands for a ram sign. Though the sensation of his Reiatsu flowing was very different from that of Chakra, the feeling of a successful jutsu remained the same.
With a poof of smoke, another Itachi stood in front of him, completely identical down to the loose strings on the bandage they wore.
They both released a breath and following that, their dark eyes spun in a wheel and when it stopped, in its place was the unmistakable red eyes with three dotted tomoe – a fully matured Sharingan.
He dismissed the clone and then laid his back to rest, the reemergence of his dōjutsu and his jutsus giving him a form of security that was assuring.
There was only so much he could do with his body and commendable speed and with him gaining back the repertoire of what he achieved in his life, for once Itachi felt he could rest easy.
‘Not yet.’ Not knowing what might have transpired with him releasing his Shikai, which should have been accompanied by a burst of Reiatsu, he pulled himself off the ground, with his robe flung over his body, he set out once again for a new place to lay low.
He knew he was a wanted man now after his fight with Shinigami Captain so he could no longer be complacent or pay little mind to his location like he had been doing when he was just another random soul in Soul Society.
Erasing his steps as he moved, Itachi ensured he had traveled a sufficiently long distance before he slowed down and started looking for a place to rest for maybe a few days and let his injury heal.
“They might have their stealth team looking around for me but unless they have a way to travel freely through the Rukongai, they will be forced to give up the search after a short while.”
He still had no idea of the powers at play here in the afterlife and from what he’s heard, there were only two groups of people with power and control in the entirety of Soul Society.
The Shinigamis of the Seireitei and then the nobles.
He had no illusions of what the nobles would be like, and no it wasn’t an assumption based on a biased opinion.
The Shinigamis however were the sole force of power in the Soul Society and though he desired peace in his death, the habit trained into him from when he was a child prevented him from being intentionally ignorant.
He hasn’t grown overconfident or was feeling a surge of overwhelming power now that he had his Sharingan back. He knew, especially after this last fight, that there were Shinigamis that were no doubt way more powerful than him, but he still had to know.
All the important information he could get would definitely be with Shinigamis, and maybe, just maybe, he might be able to find out what happened to the war after he was gone.
‘Tsukuyomi, how long do you think I’ll go before I can talk to Amaterasu?’ He idly asked, not too worried if he’d have to wait for a while because growth naturally did take time, especially one based on the soul.
“Just like you heeded my call, you will naturally feel it when your soul is strong enough.” With that it went silent, rarely ever talking unless Itachi talked to it.
“I see.” Nonchalantly nodding, Itachi dressed his wounds before laying down on the floor of an abandoned shack he found. ‘First heal, then gauge the strength of my jutsus. Any other thing can come after that.
The feeling of having his eyes back sent a sentimental thrill that coursed through Itachi’s blood, and the more he looked at the living Tsukuyomi the more he appreciated the sentiment.
It was a sentiment that told Itachi that he didn’t lose everything, with the evidence being the eyes now shining upon the moon above.
Ever since speaking Tsukuyomi’s name, the natural guard Itachi had put up against the crow was lowered down a bit, ensuring a mutual connection of familiarity and understanding between them – a certain amount of trust.
“Is there any reason why you’re here and not Amaterasu? It should be okay to speak to the both of you as long as I’m not using your abilities, shouldn’t it?”
“Should it?” The reflective speech pattern of Tsukuyomi was an integral aspect of its being, as Itachi quickly understood. “I would not know. If you can’t hear Amaterasu’s voice yet then it is not a matter of our choice but rather your soul. Also, I haven’t seen Amaterasu since I woke up in this endless world of Illusions.”
Itachi’s face remained as impassive as it always was, yet his mind went through a few loops the longer he conversed with Tsukuyomi who was essentially his Mangekyō’s left eye.
The complications with his accessing his Mangekyō aside, knowing that he had to do the same for Amaterasu left him confused as to how to feel.
“If I have to guess, the fate of us meeting first lies with the fact that you are more likely to draw on my strength far more easily than you would with Amaterasu.”
Honestly, if Itachi had found himself in an entirely different setting that didn’t include Shinigamis and creating a Zanpakutō spirit, his thoughts on his abilities would have been worlds apart from the views he had now.
If Tsukuyomi was a part of his soul, then so also was Amaterasu.
Given he was now a soul form, the stress on strengthening his soul was something he had figured out a long time ago, except that he didn’t consider the astronomical toll his abilities, now given life, would have on his soul.
“Is this Zanpakutō your permanent body, or can I transfer your soul to another sword?”
“Fortunately and unfortunately, this has become my permanent residence. The blade is merely the direct link between our souls.” Since it seemed knowledgeable in respect to his existence, Itachi readily accepted its words while asking any questions he came up with.
In the inner world of Tsukuyomi, the concept of time and space were easily subverted, and with the Tsukuyomi expressing most of Itachi’s habits as he is an integral part of the latter’s soul, their words were spoken within intervals of long silence that felt like hours.
“What about my ninjutsu? Can I freely use them now?” Unlike the plain and tattered robe he entered the World of Illusions with, the crows around him melded into it, transforming it into a black cloak with red clouds on it.
While he had great misgivings about his identity when he wore this cloak during his life, the only thing he felt for it in death were mild feelings that he dismissed.
“I wouldn’t know, do you?”
“I see.” Nodding, Itachi left that as something he would try when he goes back. He remained silent, content in watching the red skies and floating clouds in an eerie world, one that represented his own inner self.
“What do you see when you look pass the clouds, Itachi Uchiha? Is there another world beyond the skies of this real illusion?” Tsukuyomi spoke, its crimson eyes staring at Itachi whose eyes remained staring into the clouds as if in a daze.
“I see nothing.” Itachi said, “The heart does not hunger for what the eyes do not see – the world beyond me has nothing to do with me.”
“…I see.” Tsukuyomi’s gigantic form started shimmering and slowly started peeling off into feathers. “Time is eternal, Itachi Uchiha. And pain fades with it.”
Itachi didn’t reply, even as Tsukuyomi disappeared into multitudes of crows and feathers, only muttering after the cries of the crows became distant.
“Eternity doesn’t fade away, Tsukuyomi.”
Feeling something in his grasp, he looked at his hands and wrapping his fingers around was a tanto, a very normal looking one blade with no uniqueness in his form or aesthetics.
Holding the blades in his hands, he heard Tsukuyomi’s voice in his head congratulating him on reaching what that Shinigami Captain had called a Shikai.
Taking a last glance at the never-ending red sky, Itachi thought. ‘Eternity might not fade away, but everything else does.’
…….
Opening his eyes, Itachi looked at the sword in his hands that was now transformed into a basic looking short sword in his hands.
From his brief talk with Tsukuyomi and getting a proper feeling of the blade in his hands, he instinctively understood that the blade wasn’t complete – it felt lacking.
Right now, what he was holding was Tsukuyomi’s Shikai form, meaning the blade may change upon him accessing Amaterasu.
He could feel the qualitative increase from achieving his Shikai, even if a partial one, and with it came a certain comfort.
Looking at his bandaged hand, Itachi fought back a wince upon remembering his fight with the Division Captain who wielded a sword of flames. It was the irony of the abilities they wielded that caused the pain rather than a physical stimulant.
He who possessed the black flames of Amaterasu that burned all to ashes was hurt by flames.
Foregoing that thought, taking a deep breath, he brought his two hands for a ram sign. Though the sensation of his Reiatsu flowing was very different from that of Chakra, the feeling of a successful jutsu remained the same.
With a poof of smoke, another Itachi stood in front of him, completely identical down to the loose strings on the bandage they wore.
They both released a breath and following that, their dark eyes spun in a wheel and when it stopped, in its place was the unmistakable red eyes with three dotted tomoe – a fully matured Sharingan.
He dismissed the clone and then laid his back to rest, the reemergence of his dōjutsu and his jutsus giving him a form of security that was assuring.
There was only so much he could do with his body and commendable speed and with him gaining back the repertoire of what he achieved in his life, for once Itachi felt he could rest easy.
‘Not yet.’ Not knowing what might have transpired with him releasing his Shikai, which should have been accompanied by a burst of Reiatsu, he pulled himself off the ground, with his robe flung over his body, he set out once again for a new place to lay low.
He knew he was a wanted man now after his fight with Shinigami Captain so he could no longer be complacent or pay little mind to his location like he had been doing when he was just another random soul in Soul Society.
Erasing his steps as he moved, Itachi ensured he had traveled a sufficiently long distance before he slowed down and started looking for a place to rest for maybe a few days and let his injury heal.
“They might have their stealth team looking around for me but unless they have a way to travel freely through the Rukongai, they will be forced to give up the search after a short while.”
He still had no idea of the powers at play here in the afterlife and from what he’s heard, there were only two groups of people with power and control in the entirety of Soul Society.
The Shinigamis of the Seireitei and then the nobles.
He had no illusions of what the nobles would be like, and no it wasn’t an assumption based on a biased opinion.
The Shinigamis however were the sole force of power in the Soul Society and though he desired peace in his death, the habit trained into him from when he was a child prevented him from being intentionally ignorant.
He hasn’t grown overconfident or was feeling a surge of overwhelming power now that he had his Sharingan back. He knew, especially after this last fight, that there were Shinigamis that were no doubt way more powerful than him, but he still had to know.
All the important information he could get would definitely be with Shinigamis, and maybe, just maybe, he might be able to find out what happened to the war after he was gone.
‘Tsukuyomi, how long do you think I’ll go before I can talk to Amaterasu?’ He idly asked, not too worried if he’d have to wait for a while because growth naturally did take time, especially one based on the soul.
“Just like you heeded my call, you will naturally feel it when your soul is strong enough.” With that it went silent, rarely ever talking unless Itachi talked to it.
“I see.” Nonchalantly nodding, Itachi dressed his wounds before laying down on the floor of an abandoned shack he found. ‘First heal, then gauge the strength of my jutsus. Any other thing can come after that.
