Fanfictions

Kakashi vs. Itachi: a battle

by Natsuhime

The red and black Ataksuki uniform swirled gently around Uchiha Itachi’s feet. His solemn red eyes coolly regarded the man in front of him. If you looked carefully, you could see a small smile playing around his lips.
“So we meet again, Kakashi.”
Kakashi looked up, focusing upon a spot just above the Uchiha’s shoulder. He knew that direct eye contact with Itachi would mean being subjected to an inescapable horror of mental and physical torture. He adjusted his forehead protector to cover his right eye, and revealed the scarred socket of his left, with the sharingan staring out from it.
“I don’t plan to fall for your tricks this time, Itachi.” Kakashi murmured, readying himself. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Idle macho pre-fight banter is something I hardly participate in.”
“Is that so?” Kakashi glanced at the referee, who was preparing to begin the match.
“I do however; want to make a little note before engaging.”
The referee nodded towards both shinobi, and said loudly, clearly, for everyone to hear, “You may begin now”.
Neither of them moved. Kakashi grinned, “What was it you wanted to say?”
“We have a lot in common, don’t we?”
Kakashi winced. “I certainly hope not.”
“Haven’t you noticed? Both of us were child prodigies, could throw a shuriken before we could walk,” Itachi smiled his half smile, “both of us became young chuunins, young ANBU. Most importantly,” he whispered, “both of us have Sharingan.” Kakashi had turned green in the face. Itachi stared at him. “Are you scared already, Kakashi?”
“No,” Kakashi grimaced. “It was just the horror that I could be compared to a monster like you.”
Itachi bristled. “Very well then,” and with that, he vanished.
Kakashi swore. He looked around wildly searching for some sign of movement, anywhere. “Behind you.” He heard a cold voice whisper silently into his ear. He swiveled around, only to be punched violently into the far wall. He caught himself just in time, and landed heavily on the ground below. He raised his hand and re-adjusted the head-protector. He put his hands together to form the tiger seal. I have to fight him from afar, he thought, I must not look into his eyes.
“Too late for that,” Kakashi heard the cold voice again. Itachi had appeared, inches from his face. He saw the cold red eyes and the black swirls of deadly mastered blood limit. “Mangekyou Sharingan!” Itachi said this, and watched, impassively, as Kakashi fell to his knees screaming in pain.
The moment Kakashi had seen the pupils of his enemy’s eyes; he had known he was in trouble. Black shadows were creeping into the sides of his vision, threatening to engulf him altogether. He looked up, and found himself on a tiled floor, the walls around him grey and monotonous, to his left a garden, the sky above an eerie red, the sickening colour of blood. Kakashi got up and strode across the grey grass. He knew what had happened. He had been transported into Itachi’s world. He steeled his body up, preparing for the pain. He continued to walk forwards, and stopped, mouth opened in a silent scream, at the body lying on the floor.
“Obito!” Kakashi choked, and made forward to his best friend. He was bleeding everywhere. Kakashi put his hand down, somehow to stem the flow from Obito’s chest. He screamed. As soon as his skin had made contact with Obito, his hand had burned with indescribable agony, as if someone had cut into the nerves of his hand, again and again. This is just an illusion, he thought wildly. But was it? Somewhere between the pains, he had convinced himself that this was all real, that he was in a reality. In this reality, he would not let his friend die, no matter the cost. He looked up, and saw that his friends, his students, and his family all bleeding; all needing his help. Tears streaming with pain, he lurched around, panicking. He would not lose his precious people again. Each time he reached to comfort his screaming students, his flesh burned with white-hot fire. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was an illusion, but just the possibility, the slightest chance, that this could be real, that he could save them, made him continually scream in an impossible agony, over and over.
“Now, you shall endure 48 hours of this, Kakashi.”
In real time, the sky was still an azure blue. Kakashi was quivering uncontrollably in a heap about twenty meters away, having been released from the Mangekyou Sharingan two minutes ago. Itachi waited for him to regain control of himself. The torture he had put him through this time had more of a toll on the inside than on the out.
Kakashi was on all fours, gasping, taking in great gulps of air as if learning to breathe for the first time. Illusion had become reality, he looked around; unsure of what was real, what was imaginary. Itachi seemed a hazy black figure in the distance, and yet too close for comfort. Once again the shadows played about the corner of his eyes, the menacing blackness advancing on his consciousness. He took more, steadying breaths, concentrating. He would not be knocked out like that again. Even as he thought this he felt fatigue grinding at his bones. He had to finish this soon. Head still bowed, still acting like he was about to pass out, he formed a few hand seals, hidden from the red sharingan.
Itachi looked up. Kakashi looked like he was gathering himself, getting on his knees, head still bowed. Suddenly, he got up and lurched forward, eyes crazed, and ran head on at Itachi. His hand drew back in a graceful arc.
Thump.
Itachi had easily blocked the clumsy blow. “Now, now, you shouldn’t do that,” he muttered. He looked down at Kakashi’s sweating face. It was grinning. He turned around just to see a foot coming at his face.
Yes! The Kage Bunshin had managed to work. He was shocked that Itachi had fallen for it. The replication burst into a cloud of smoke. Kakashi had taken a leaf out of Naruto’s book. The replica had missed the knockout point at the temple however, and should have only slightly hurt Itachi.
On the ground, on the other side of the arena, Itachi tasted a salty, bitter taste in his mouth. “Blood,” he spat. He righted himself. He wasn’t seriously hurt. The attack had surprised him that was all. He got up and looked over at Kakashi, who, given his strength at the moment, was doing a surprising thing.
His left arm was clutching the forearm of his right. Itachi blinked. He saw chakra beginning to form in the right palm, in streaks of bright blue light, crackling before his eyes. “He shouldn’t have enough chakra for that…” Itachi murmured, “He should be too exhausted…” His musing was broken by the sound of a thousand birds.
“Chidori!” Kakashi bellowed, hoarsely, running for all he was worth, speed increasing at an alarming rate. He raised his arm, thoughts only of plunging his hand into Itachi’s heart.
Thump.
Kakashi looked up, shocked. His chidori had gone through the folds of Itachi’s Ataksuki uniform, but that was all. He had stopped it by grabbing onto Kakashi’s wrist, centimeters from his flesh. The chidori still sparkled. He looked up into Itachi’s face, risking all. It was implacable.
“You know,” Itachi whispered, “You and I, we have something else in common…”
Kakashi looked into the unfathomable blood red eyes.
“We both know that there is pain, beyond that of dying.”
As Itachi said those words, Kakashi understood, for a second, the young man in front of him, he understood why, all those years ago… he felt a sharp pain to his temple, and the shadows finally took over.
Itachi lowered Kakashi to the ground. “It’s over”, he said, casually, to the referee. He started to walk away, and turned his head to the unconscious form on the floor. “You fought well. You lasted longer than I expected.” His footsteps echoed around the arena.