I remember the first moment I saw Itachi. It was a suffocating Osakan summer day, sweat stagnant and all forms of dress abandonned. I was laying in the buff, flat on my back on my futon in the meager stream of releif circulated by the tiny old room fan what had seen that last world war. I'd just returned from a ventured out into the direct sunlight, a true feat what with the tar of the very streets bubbling. I'd made the crusade, however, for the holy cause of purchasing my very own copy of Issue 16, Naruto, and now flopped reading it. A dark character made his entrance and tipped off his hat, Uchiha Itachi had arrived. Needless to say, I sat straight up.
This picture is essentially but the hopeless musings of my fervant fangirldom, with the tragectory of a fluttering rose petal, my descent into obsession. ....Itachi's got real perdy hair....