Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Bloody Beautiful

He had never seen a woman become so beautiful. Hell, he'd never even seen beautiful before. It was a brand new and completely foreign experience as he gazed with silent fascination at the being before him.

He'd seen women thrash a tangled mess of limbs and screech a horrid harpy cry, shrill and piercing as a jagged piece of metal sliding through your flesh. He'd seen them delicate and fragile as the flowers that people seemed to insist on comparing them to. He'd seen them weep hysterically with a mentality broken down into something not much higher than that of a wounded animal scrabbling to find a secret haven to die. He'd seen strong women, as brash as they are strong. Women with grainy black running down their eyes and smears of cosmetic crimson, red as wounds around their mouths, wide and stretched like grotesque elastic. Yes, he'd seen many sorts of women.

However, he can't recall the last time he has ever seen a woman so quiet during a fight. He can't even really recall the last time he fought anyone so quiet. Everyone seem to fight with their mouths as much as they favored to fight with their fists these days. What was it about words that everyone wanted to fling about? All the noises she emitted were born out of pain. They were a natural reflex. A grunt or a gasp of pain. Simple.

A woman with eyes so clean and cold. Lips stained with real red cracks.

Interesting. Untainted hair that was a natural fair blonde, though it looked nearly silver in the pallid moonlight; it vaguely reminded him of Hidan for a moment. But…Hidan's hair was stiff with product. Sleek and smooth and rigid.

This hair flowed with the lucidity of water. Though now parts of it looked stained as blood dried on the simple strands.

She staggered toward him. Eyes grim and hard. Determined. But she knew how this was going to end. They both knew that she was outclassed, but she pushed on.


Yet...beautiful nonetheless.

He observed her figure tense as another fresh wave of glistening red soaked through her clothing. Another step and he watched as she swayed from the weight of being.

It is going to end soon, he knows.

Blood dripped down her face. It is nothing that he hasn't seen before.

Yet it is somehow unique.

...what a lovely contrast.

He had always admired the color red a bit more than the other colors, but now it was simply stunning as it contrasted against her skin that closely resembled paper white. A stray droplet of blood fell down her pale lashes. Red against white, red against blue as it flowed around her eyes. And then she blinked and gravity pulled her down.


She managed to twist her body midair and landed on her side. Rusted silver pooled like a warped halo around her head. Red and silver intermingled as she watched him, eyes wary that her time was near.

The sound of her ragged breathing stopped. He heard her heart still beating.

Itachi gazed down curiously the fallen form of Ino Yamanaka. His head shifted a degree to the right.

My, the color red really was stunning on her.

He contemplated another moment before briskly moving on.

Bloody beautiful indeed, but he was no sentimental fool. Beauty held no value in this world other than to be admired.

But it had been such a while, nearly foreign in experience, to admire something.

Even if she was so bloody beautiful.