42 min read
NOTE: This post is a rewrite of 'A Post About Itachi Uchiha And The Images I Use Of Him,' originally published in 2023. 'Masquerade' is the living document of my online self, as told by the various Itachi illustrations I've commissioned over the years — so far.
The Masks Before
Have you thought of how you present yourself online? Do you use your real name, go by an alias/username, or something else entirely? Some don’t think there’s a difference between the real and the online self, whereas others embrace that difference as if it were a mask to wear. As I’ve become increasingly privacy-conscious, it’s a scary thought to go online as ‘myself.’ When the Internet is as omnipresent as it is today, it’s all too easy for the line between the real and online self to blur.
Now, stop me if you’ve heard this phrase before from your parents: “Don’t talk to strangers.” I’ve heard that a lot from my mom whenever I was about to go online. I was told this enough times that it stuck; nonetheless, I ventured off into the World Wide Web, looking for the friends I could never make in real life. In this masquerade, we were all outcasts — how could I not talk to strangers, especially those who are more likely to understand what I’m going through? My mask-wearing was circumstantial, with the choice often not as binary as many might think: I’ve gone without a mask, embraced wearing said mask, and have worn it all chipped up, replacing it be damned.
Today, the man who goes by Tyson Matsuki online and the one behind him are often the same person. What separates these two halves is like that chipped mask, of which the extent of the damage is something I'm still examining. It wasn't always this way. When I first adopted Tyson Matsuki as my online identity, I fully inhabited 'Tyson Matsuki,' a character I'd created: good-looking, athletic, fashion-conscious — everything I could never be. I wanted to escape the reality in which I didn’t win the genetic lottery, wasn’t popular with either the boys or the girls, and was seen as having ‘weird’ tastes and personality. Growing up in the late 90s as a nerdy, overweight kid with queer leanings was tough, to put it mildly. I liked my online self far more.
Regarding queerness, although I never explicitly labeled 'Tyson Matsuki' as a queer character, he was coded as such in his fashion sense — skin-tight ninja attire, vanity eyeglasses with lightning-bolt temples, piercings — and the way he carried himself. I'd picture my younger self drawing those scenes, grinning like a total pervert. But it wasn't all about appeasing the middle leg; there were intimate scenes between him and another guy in the cast, just hanging out. Two men, enjoying each other's company, trusting of each other enough to be vulnerable, and neither one lusting for the other. It was a thinly veiled cry for help, given I didn't have those kinds of friendships with my guy friends. I'll move on, but I promise more to come in a future Free! piece, in which the friendships between characters are my highlight.
The first mask I wore was of a character I was fond of in my early years, as I woke up early Saturday morning to catch airings of Rurouni Kenshin. Sanosuke Sagara, a former Sekihōtai militant turned fighter-for-hire, harbored deep resentment for the Meiji government that had his role model and captain of his unit executed for ‘spreading lies’ about tax reforms. What began as a job turned incredibly personal as Sanosuke realized he was fighting the legendary Battōsai, Kenshin Himura, whose work during the revolution was instrumental in establishing the very regime Sanosuke loathes. Despite losing their brutal duel — or perhaps because of it — Sanosuke joins Kenshin's group as a right-hand man.
On many a LatinChat room, ‘Sanosuke’ stood out for a handle that wasn’t typical in the community there. Among a sea full of first names with an assortment of numbers and symbols, I took a fictional character’s name as my handle. Among the many ASL messages I sent and received, an experience I still remember from those days is getting catfished. ‘She’ convinced me to hop on a voice call on the now-defunct MSN Messenger, which I sheepishly avoided, saying how I didn’t have a microphone — I did, one of the flimsy ones. Then I heard a man speaking, and the call disconnected shortly after. When I tried to confirm who, exactly, I had heard, he ghosted me.
From chat rooms to forums, a new mask: ‘Dark Bot.’ Based on Perfect Dark’s DarkSim, it spoke to my multiplayer skills at the time; my cousin was constantly frustrated that he couldn’t beat me, and I thought I’d stroke my ego. The handle was used either standalone, though it was rarely available as such, or with the addition of an identifier at the end: either 007 (Dark Bot 007) — combining my two loves — or PR (Dark Bot PR), a statement of where I hail from.
There was a forum that used to be my home long ago, and I began visiting shortly before playing Kingdom Hearts for the first time. Still wearing my ‘Dark Bot’ mask, once the action RPG got its grip on me and wouldn’t let go, it was time for a new one. Habitual readers of my work know I prefer Riku over Sora, so why did I go for the protagonist’s name for my new handle? Aside from being the most recognizable character in the series, I found his enthusiasm contagious. I wanted to convey that, somehow — there’s just one problem: I was an edgelord. I got into fights with other forum members constantly until I was eventually banned.
Evermore Forums, as depicted on the Wayback Machine. This is where ‘Sora’, ‘Ruki’, and Tyson Matsuki were born.
Around this time, I'd become friends with someone really into visual kei: essentially Japan's take on glam rock, with a strong focus on the look, not just the music. One band he was particularly fond of was the GazettE, and that affinity rubbed off on me. If I remember right, as far as the outfits went, he’s partial to Aoi and Reita, the backup guitarist and bassist. I gravitated towards Ruki, the singer, borrowing his name.
Whether I reflected on my actions or not after I was banned, one thing became clear: I didn't want my messiest behavior tied to my actual name. I needed separation — I’d repurpose the name of an old character as an alias for my online persona. When I eventually returned to that same forum from which I was banned, the teenager known as 'Ruki' was no longer using his real name.
He was Tyson Matsuki.
When the forum owner, Lancet Jades, confronted me about the matching IP address, I lied about having no relation to the banned member — but Tyson Matsuki already was who I'd been presenting myself as. The handles would change over time, but Tyson Matsuki remained constant. That alias is old enough to drink now.
One evening, while hanging out with the ‘visual kei friend,’ he came up with the idea of catfishing guys on PlayStation Home. We needed fake names, fake profiles, and ‘fake’ handles. He’d gone with ‘Kiyoshi,’ whereas I went with ‘Kanaye.’ He was far more successful at catfishing than I was, even getting guys to buy PSN cards for him — never a dull day as he concocts his latest mischief scheme, whether it’s on PS Home or on World of Warcraft. When I joined him over at the MMORPG, I named my Blood Elf rogue 'Kanaye' on the Darrowmere server. It’d also become my handle until 2016 in favor of the one I use currently.
YouTube’s homepage in 2007.
‘chemicalsora’ was a throwaway name created for the then-nascent video-sharing site YouTube in 2006. I wasn’t going to watch any videos on my dial-up connection back then, so it primarily served as a repository for videos I wanted to watch on a faster connection: the ‘watch later’ before YouTube implemented a proper Watch Later feature. The library computers at the college campus I attended had access to broadband internet. I’d go before class started, procure one of the stations, and watch videos or browse deviantART — as an aspiring illustrator, I had an interest in the work of other illustrators. Maybe I always liked art.
Predictably, ‘Sora’ was already taken. So what was I into at the time? I was still going as ‘Sora’ on forum boards, especially as Kingdom Hearts 2 was released months earlier. I was also heavily into the emo rock band My Chemical Romance. ‘mcrsora,' nah… ‘RomanceSora,’ look at me, trying to be popular, I hate this… how about ‘chemicalsora’… Chemical sky? It… doesn’t sound half bad!
How did a throwaway username become the handle I use to this day? As I took YouTube seriously as a video producer a decade later, I needed to unify my brand with my social media presence. To get ‘Kanaye’ as a channel, I needed to open a new one — you couldn’t switch channel names back then. ‘chemicalsora’ was a tenured account, I could quickly apply for monetization… until Google started requiring a certain amount of recurring watch time alongside the channel’s tenure.
I was forced into adopting ‘chemicalsora.’ On the bright side, I didn’t have trouble securing that username on any social platform! Except for Instagram, where someone was sitting on the name. I was never able to contact them to obtain the name…
Meeting Itachi
Anime has been one of my loves since I was a child. Starting with Rurouni Kenshin during the late 90s, the period story was eye-opening — animation shows can, and did, tackle serious topics. That said, I wasn’t above kids’ stuff. A memory from my childhood has me running home after school to catch the Pokémon anime, which aired on local TV. Since my dad has cable TV and my mom didn’t, I’d program my VCR at his house to record Digimon, Shaman King, and Yu-Gi-Oh! episodes, which aired on Fox’s children’s programming block on Saturdays. As I reached my late teens, I felt as if I had outgrown anime... until I discovered Death Note.
The medium became something I enjoyed passively because I didn’t have easy access to it. By the time I could do something — namely, when I had access to high-speed internet at mom’s house — I was engrossed in online multiplayer. Anime took a backseat as I indulged my obsession: video games.
TV Tropes defines an antihero as “a character who lacks a handful of the traditional attributes of a hero but is ultimately heroic. They may be bewildered, ineffectual, deluded, or merely apathetic. More often, an antihero is just an amoral misfit.” I’ve liked characters whose motivations aren’t clearly defined ever since I can remember. James Bond, Beyblade’s Kai Hiwatari, and Shaman King’s Tao Ren, to name a few, all share the designation of antihero. Even as a kid, I thought of life as having many shades of grey; I like it when the media I watch reflects that dubious morality in seemingly plausible ways. In my view, a skilled writer can make a compelling antihero immensely potent for any story.
Naruto was big in the 2000s. The brat who wanted to become Hokage was known to everyone who read manga or watched anime; it was so big, it was part of ‘The Big Three,’ a colloquial term for the most visible series at the time: Bleach, One Piece, Naruto. To my knowledge, the ninja series was the, if not one of the, first known by fans and non-fans alike. My first exposure was in Viz’s Shonen Jump in late 2005. I recently subscribed to the magazine after having bought an issue at Borders, which had Naruto plastered all over the cover. Around that time, Naruto was being dubbed for American TV. I recall owning DVDs of the series, though I don’t recall how many — up until whichever got to the end of the ‘Land of Waves’ arc.
Its overexposure clearly reflected the series’ importance to Viz; nevertheless, it wore out its welcome. I liked it well enough, but not enough to become a fan. Sure, I browsed through the pages, but I hardly paid any attention. It could’ve suffered a worse fate: being ignored, as I did with the Yu-Gi-Oh! manga series. There might have been a seedling of a future fan deep within, as I owned a bandanna like the ones used in the series. I think it had the Konoha logo...? Looking back, it was a harbinger for my wardrobe being centered largely around my media interests, even to this day.
At anime conventions in the late 2000s, cosplayers wearing black cloaks with stylized clouds showed up en masse. They were cosplaying as members of ‘Akatsuki,’ a group of rogue ninjas who, at the time, were the main villains in Naruto. I think people were captivated by their mysterious aura, even when they knew Akatsuki’s end goal. I wasn’t a con attendee in those days — Puerto Rico cons focus far too much on comics, and assume overlapping interest; it couldn’t be farther from the truth in my case. This meant that I was largely oblivious to the phenomenon, only learning about it in retrospect. The Akatsuki that rose to prominence had ten members, and one stood out above the rest — to the fandom at large, and eventually, to me: Itachi Uchiha.
I first met Itachi in the August 2007 edition of Viz’s Shonen Jump. After the Konoha ninjas repelled Orochimaru’s attack at too great a cost, Itachi visits his old home alongside his partner, Kisame. A wanted criminal visiting the very home he’s been exiled from was a thinly veiled message to whoever becomes Hokage after the Third’s death: “I’ll be watching.” At the time, I didn’t know what to make of it, and it didn’t help that I was fully on Team Sasuke — there’s another antihero! When Itachi pins down Sasuke after deflecting his Chidori, Kakashi's signature lightning attack, passed down to his student, I hated the elder brother. But hey, that's what you're supposed to do with villains, right? I didn't see this battle on the page or in its proper context at the time; I might have caught clips, but I didn't watch the full episode until my first proper watch sometime in 2011.
After that confrontation, Itachi wouldn’t appear until Shippuden. I must’ve gotten to the second series sometime in the summer of 2012, if my Twitter logs are anything to go by. Akatsuki’s plans for world domination took center stage, and the Konoha ninjas would have constant run-ins with the cloaked men, including Itachi. His first encounter with Team Kakashi's Naruto revealed the Sharingan’s evolved form: the Mangekyō. Itachi was stalling for time, as the captured Gaara’s tailed beast was extracted from him. Kakashi orders Naruto and Sakura not to look into Itachi’s eyes, lest they be trapped in his Genjutsu. As the camera continuously focused on Itachi’s visage, I was the one who became trapped. This mystique, the sense that he was more than what meets the eye, that he’d never reveal his hand… he wasn’t the only villain in Akatsuki, but he’d become the one I’d gravitate towards.
Some time after, Sasuke would become strong enough to face Itachi at the Uchiha hideout. He doubted Sasuke’s resolve; Itachi warned him to come only after he’s obtained the Mangekyō, but even without it, Sasuke remains a formidable foe. Zetsu, who was watching, quips: “The Sharingan is a ninja’s weapon. A weapon is only as powerful as its wielder.” Itachi watched in disbelief as the younger brother broke through his Tsukuyomi, realizing his typical Genjutsu approach won’t work. It became this epic battle, and I was totally mesmerized. I refused to go to sleep until I knew what happened.
In his final moments, Itachi walked towards an exhausted Sasuke, only to die next to him. Sasuke didn’t kill him, though he was very close to doing so — no, Itachi succumbed to his unknown illness. As Tobi tells Sasuke about Itachi after his defection, I was convinced of how badass he was. There was merit to the hype. Hints of a deeper reading loomed at large, but only the superficial detail mattered to me.
This frame from Shippuden’s sixth opening depicting Itachi became the first profile picture I used that depicted him.
On October 28, 2012, I “became” Itachi, wearing his image as my mask ever since. Who I was to the internet before this was ever-changing, and I wouldn’t settle on anyone in particular. Itachi is everything I love about the antihero archetype. Knowing who I am, I don’t see a scenario in which I would have *not* fallen in love with the character, given similar circumstances.
Vector Itachi (2013)
The late 2000s were a different time at YouTube. Gaming videos weren’t novel to the platform, but what was new was the so-called ‘gaming commentator’: a type of creator who rose alongside consumer-grade video capture cards, enabled by Hauppauge’s HD PVR. They recorded their gameplay and discussed various topics, ranging from commentary on the footage to personal stories.
I first heard of Stuart Brown, owner of the YouTube channel ‘XboxAhoy,’ sometime around mid-2010 when his Modern Warfare 2 weapon guides were recommended to me. While he’s very much a gaming commentator, his videos were unlike anything being uploaded by his peers. More than the actionable advice, what stood out was their production value. Brown brought his skill set, honed by years in his web development trade, to a scene that had grown stale. It was a breath of fresh air and showed what gaming YouTube could be.
In the circles I hung in, the one series I saw with the highest production value was TeamFourstar’s Dragon Ball Abridged. These videos took clips from the iconic battle series and added humorous commentary, referencing pop culture and occasionally poking fun at the official Dragon Ball dub. They later created Yu-Gi-Oh! Abridged, taking the lessons from their earlier project and raising the bar, all while remaining true to their irreverent humor. These productions required nonlinear editing software, which was rare in the consumer market, and the skill set to operate said software.
There wasn’t a gaming equivalent on that level. I believe Brown was just that. His weapon guides were immediately useful when I transitioned from Uncharted 2 multiplayer to MW2. But beyond the actionable advice, I wanted to know how they were made — the level of care demanded understanding. I was confident that the graphics work could be replicated in Photoshop, a raster graphics program in which I am somewhat proficient. But Brown primarily uses Illustrator, the vector graphics equivalent of Photoshop. At that time, I knew very little about how to operate the software, despite efforts to learn. For now, though, what I saw was magic being done in front of my eyes.
I quickly became a regular on his videos' comment sections and his subreddit. I had questions answered in his 'Bonus' series, was fortunate to interview him for my now-defunct Call of Duty podcast, and even gifted him games I’m fond of. No longer a fan, I was now a colleague. Perhaps even a friend.
On Stuart’s Big Box video from 2020, a Persona 4 copy is showcased. Then it hit me: it was one of the games I gifted him years before. I was starstruck.
It would be five years before I truly took YouTube seriously, but even then, I had aspirations. With the experience of uploading video versions of the podcast under my belt, I wanted to branch out: dust off ‘chemicalsora’ and indulge in slightly more serious content. Given how I’d cemented my ‘brand’ around Itachi, it’d perhaps work, but definitely not with a screenshot of the actual anime. I didn’t want Viz on my back, and I could have some plausible deniability while I was at it.
I had never commissioned art before, and I didn't know how any of this worked. To my knowledge, Stuart doesn’t do commissions. Was I inspired by what I saw from his work that I told myself I needed to have something done by him? I sheepishly approached him with what I wanted — he was the one I trusted with a request like this. The worst that could happen is getting turned down...
Vector Itachi (2013)
...but he indulged me. After discussing payment terms, I sent him the full screenshot; he delivered the illustration in less than a week. It was a three-pack: the original image vectorized and two color variants. Considering how I thought of Itachi at the time, the black-and-orange variant accentuated his badass look. I settled on that, with the other variants seeing limited use.
I didn’t plan for Vector-tachi to accompany me for such a long time. As an underpaid worker, the realization that I couldn’t afford another commission stung. That said, I sketched ideas on a new ident that I’d hoped Stuart would take on years later, but it never materialized. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with this new illustration — I may have those sketches somewhere...
The exact panel I used for Tsugumi’s profile picture. Nisekoi, chapter 206. Page 11, I believe.
Whenever I got bored with the image, I’d replace it with a headshot of Seishiro Tsugumi, a supporting character in Nisekoi. There might have been others, but the memory eludes me. I thought I'd eventually put Itachi's mask down... but I never did. You don’t get to choose what you’re known for; reputations can be nurtured, but success isn’t guaranteed.
blazpu Itachi (2020)
After years of being underpaid, I switched to a job that gave me more spending power than I ever imagined possible. No longer being part of the worker class was exciting, but it wasn’t a jovial moment. The imposter syndrome lingered, whispering that I didn't deserve this opportunity. But I couldn't listen to that voice. I can’t be beating myself over what could’ve been if I want to keep my sanity. Better things are possible, and I most certainly deserve those.
Think of the opportunities! I could travel! I could now see my online friends in person! Among them, someone I’ve known since the early Tumblr days (love you, Sam!), completely on a whim. In that moment, Tyson wasn't just a performance, but he also wasn't the whole picture. While happy to keep the ruse should the need arise, with these friends, I could just... be. The visage didn't matter; they were meeting the same person either way.
By the late 2010s, Twitter was full of people arguing and bickering. It was so widespread, the website came to be known as 'the hell site', and I doubted whether it was meant to be ironic. When the COVID-19 pandemic forced everyone indoors, there was a notable decay in the quality of conversations. The circumstances were already taking a toll on my mental health, and this so-called ‘community’ made it worse. I had no choice but to withdraw: I spoke less, made fewer inflammatory statements, and wanted nothing to do with the daily discourse. Fan artists are the one thing that gave me peace in those distressful times.
My Persona 5 obsession continued, seeking fan art of it long after its release. With Persona 5 Royal fast approaching, there was an uptick of it — amongst the flood, one colorful portrait of Makoto Niijima caught my attention. It was drawn by a user with a peculiar profile picture: P5’s Morgana chomping on a cigar.
blazpu's 2019 illustration of Makoto Niijima — the piece that first caught my attention.
Meet Blazpu, a Vietnamese artist.
While his profile picture suggests he’s a Persona fan artist, don’t be fooled: Blazpu’s actually quite versatile. He works with strong brushstrokes, the kind where you can trace the artist's hand as it moves across the canvas. His style has charm: his characters smile, giving the impression they’re happy at being painted — or in the case of his Vanitas illustration, completely unhinged! A well-rounded artist with a distinctive style — it’s no wonder that he has the engagement and following he does.
Among his illustrations, he posted commissions from people who hired him. It's odd; I don’t remember seeing an ad for his commission services. Perhaps he had a system in place that I was unaware of? He didn’t have a website listed on his Twitter bio or a Carrd-like profile with all of his links. In any case, to me, it looked as if he took requests from Twitter. I was interested in freshening up my image after years of Vector-tachi hanging around: at the time, I’d been promoted, and I wanted a reward. I reached out, and wouldn’t hear back until about a week later.
Commissioning Blazpu felt strange, only because my experience with Stu was so unorthodox. It was... normal, transactional even: I was someone who liked his art, occasionally commented, and that’s it. One could even argue that Blazpu was my first commission.
The sketch I sent blazpu, quickly put together on my iPad.
I sent a quick sketch of a pose based on an illustration he did in which I wanted Itachi on. He was appreciative, but I thought he was too informal on his terms. There was no system in place: no minimum revisions, no estimated time of delivery, and no communication on whether the artwork could be used for commercial purposes. It was all vibes, for lack of a better word. Still, if he continued to be hired, then something was going right? Either way, that’s not for me to worry; we’ll make this work somehow.
Two weeks after the DM back-and-forth, he sent the line art. Everything looked okay to me, though I couldn't really picture the final result yet. He sent the invoice, I paid him, and everything went smoothly after that. Once the illustration was done, I asked for the .psd file — despite mild pushback, he sent it over. This puzzled me: if Stu sent the .ai files without me asking, why would Blazpu question what I wanted to do with them? There was certainly no nefarious intent, and AI feeding wasn’t a thing at the time. I didn’t know of ways to remove backgrounds without access to the main file, and I thought I’d have a use for it past saving in different file formats… but I never did. It’s sitting in the folder I made to collect the artworks.
blazpu Itachi (2020)
The best way I can describe this Itachi is as having a blank expression. He didn’t have his Sharingan eyes, which made the illustration strangely welcoming. I didn't know how long blazpu-tachi would stick around as my profile picture, but one thing was clear: commissioning artists to create something meaningful had become more than just updating an avatar. In a time when Twitter felt hostile, and the pandemic kept everyone isolated, these collaborations were one of the few bright spots I had left.
OMORI Itachi (2022)
This is more than a story about a mask — it’s the story of an online friendship, immortalized.
Back in 2016, nascent chat app Discord sold itself as *the* chat app for gamers. It’s this generation’s TeamSpeak and Ventrilo: two voice chat platforms used by PC gamers in the 2000s. Chances are, if you raided in World of Warcraft, you used either program to coordinate with your party. Discord’s server functionality caught on with Patreon creators looking to make a curated space for their supporters to chat about shared interests, and the creators themselves participated in the conversations. A noble goal, but not every online personality was as social: there were also spaces where the creator was present... and also absent. Whether they were busy or felt obliged to offer Discord server access as a perk, these invisible creators sat behind several layers of moderation; never to be bothered, never revealing how they behave in a casual environment. It’s been my experience that this type of server is clique-esque in nature, which heavily turns me off. I join servers from online personalities not because I want to be in the loop with the creator’s latest works, but because I want to see how they engage with their followers. I’m likely in the minority here...
Forums were on their last legs, largely replaced by social media. The G4 Forums, which I used to frequent, folded shortly after I joined Twitter alongside the network it’s named after. Then the Xbox Forums, which I tried to make my home, increasingly made me uneasy the more I used them. I left chat apps behind when I joined Twitter in 2012, and I didn’t know what to expect — it felt like a regression, and I didn’t know whether it was a positive one. When Stu launched his Patreon campaign in 2016, promising access to his Discord server, I joined both Patreon *and* Discord. I already had his ear: we spoke via Twitter DMs and sometimes e-mail, but those channels felt more formal. Here, I could engage in casual conversation not only with him but also with like-minded people.
Sometime after, I heard about a place called ‘Anime UK News’ from a guy I spoke to somewhat regularly. He held the community in high regard, and I was curious to see what it was about — our nationalities didn’t align, but our interests seemingly did. I was already acquainted with many a UK person: Stu, Sam, Bish, etc. The natural next step was to join a proper UK server. Unfortunately, the guy who brought me in was banned shortly after I joined. His bitterness became apparent through the many snide remarks he posted about the server’s administrator. We were nothing more than acquaintances; it’s no skin off my back.
In early 2021, a discussion among some server members and Donut — the artist this segment focuses on — culminated in Donut making a joke I found in poor taste. I block people openly, as I don’t want to see posts from those who upset me, and she got hit with it. Little did I know how much she agonized over the incident, how she didn’t mean to offend me. It wasn’t until a mutual friend brought up that she wanted to make amends, and that I should give her a chance. And I did. We began talking about our shared interests and the things I thought she’d like. Much later, we’d talk about life, work, and the things that happened in our day.
One of those shared interests was OMORI. I've written elsewhere about how the game made me feel, but here I want to focus on when it came into my life. Donut and I both purchased the game during its first-anniversary sale on Steam. I'm not sure how she came to buy the game, but she felt equally endeared and emotional toward its themes. Our Twitter DMs are full of OMORI fanarts, memes, and official content from the creator herself, OMOCAT. From a misunderstanding to speaking as if we had known each other forever, this friendship developed under unorthodox circumstances and is all the more beautiful because of it.
Aerial shot of PR-18, Expreso Las Americas, empty during rush hour. At 5PM, this highway would be full of cars heading in either direction. Equally empty, Plaza Las Americas — Puerto Rico’s biggest shopping mall — on the right. This was my country during the COVID years.
My mind wasn’t in the best of places. During this era, I’d grow more reclusive, much like the world around me, which grew silent under COVID-19 lockdown orders. Having my freedom stripped away by the snap of a finger contributed to my already deteriorating mental health. Even as I surrounded myself with things that made me happy, including an enhanced edition of Persona 5 — a game I’m very fond of — I was far from it. The isolation and the overwhelming stress from work drove me towards bad eating habits, resulting in an increase of 35 pounds over roughly half a year. With curfews still in effect, if I went out to run errands, I had to be back home by 9 PM, and the many government alerts sent to my phone reminded me. Anything later and I’d risk being sent to an actual cell instead of the four walls that imprisoned me for the better part of a year. And counting.
Donut was struggling to make ends meet as the cost of living in the UK rose. Having heard about her situation in one of many ‘how’s life going’ conversations, I was gutted. Dealing with the same scenario myself, I could offer only words of encouragement, as money was also tight. One day, I saw her post about opening up commissions to her close group of followers. I knew Donut drew as a hobby, and why not — if you do a thing well, might as well get paid for it!
I couldn’t tell you how the ‘Itachi in the OMORI art style’ idea came about. Still, I felt it could work: her chibi/cute style was perfect for the concept. We both felt strongly about the game, and I wanted to help her, even in a small way. I told her about my idea, and she was delighted, agreeing to do it without a second thought — not only was she drawing about her obsession, but she’d do so for a special friend. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy with blazpu-tachi! But I wanted a more whimsical picture for the more intimate setting of Discord servers and direct messages. It’d see use on Twitter, but it was never meant as the primary showcase.
A key question that arose in the process was which background felt like Itachi. OMORI’S EMOTION system depicted the character’s status through emotions: neutral, happy, sad, angry, or afraid, alongside a thematically apt background. The trouble was that Itachi didn’t fit any of these rigid categories. His demeanor was more nuanced: “…there's an aura of melancholy around him, but he never shows it — SAD wouldn't really fit. Neither would ANGRY…” Looking back, the seeds of a different read on Itachi were being planted. I didn't realize it then, but I was starting to ask: who was Itachi, really? What did he mean to me? Could he be something other than my longest-serving mask?
OMORI Itachi (2022)
There’s something special about OMORI-tachi. Unlike Vector-tachi and blazpu-tachi before it, this mask was more intimate. It’s the embodiment of the special connection Donut and I have, a reminder of how a piece of media brought us into each other’s worlds. If it weren't for OMORI, we wouldn't be friends. I would’ve forgotten why I was upset at her, and we’d chat from time to time… but me lighting up whenever I get a message from her? All thanks to OMOCAT. Her willingness to transform her pain into art gave us OMORI.
And OMORI… gave us each other.
Keito Itachi (2023)
As Twitter got ever more enshittified under Elon Musk’s ownership, my days on the platform were numbered. I started spending more and more time on Instagram — never mind that I’m trading one evil billionaire’s site for another.
Since the beginning, Instagram has been a photo-first site. Before netizens normalized posting everything about their lives on social media, Instagram users did it first, posting banal stuff such as selfies, what they ate, and, more interestingly, the novel things that happened in their lives. As the platform grew, the scope of posts broadened.
I mostly followed cosplayers. Two that come to mind are Leon Chiro, an Italian artist with abs to die for, and Geheichou, a Spaniard whose prop making is second to none — and a cute guy in his own right. At one point, my Explore page contained either anime, cosplayers, attractive men, or any combination of the three. The more I browsed, the more accurately the algorithm understood me; it was so unsettling that I had to force myself to log off on more than one occasion.
Keito, seen here holding his ‘Villain Deku’ illustration, and cosplaying as the character in the drawing.
I came across Keito during the COVID lockdown years, when I saw his full-color sketchbook illustration of My Hero Academia’s Izuku Midoriya, themed like a stereotypical villain. Seeing traditional artwork of this caliber is rare — and impressive. Even more so, given that he claims he’s a ‘self-taught artist.’ He’s notable for cosplaying alongside his artwork; since he draws character fanart in everyday clothing, the outfits that inspired the artwork may be in his wardrobe. Some pictures are digitally altered: his Venti cosplay has the side braids layered in. The hair color might also be the work of Photoshop, but then again, colored hairspray exists. Some of his off-cosplay pictures show him with dyed hair, so maybe...?
The thing I remember Keito most for is his love of the yaoi manhwa BJ Alex, and his frequent cosplaying of the titular character — he even made a replica of BJ Alex’s mask! Keito’s suggestive cosplays intrigued me: not only did I start seeing in him an attractive young man, but I also ended up checking out the series, which became the first webtoon I’ve read.
BJ Alex follows Ahn Jiwon, a model university student by day and the adult streamer ‘BJ Alex’ by night, and Nam ‘DG’ Dong-Gyun, someone who developed feelings for his favorite ‘broadcast jockey.’ Jiwon successfully keeps his streaming life secret from his university peers until a department drinking night ends with him taking a blackout-drunk DG home. When DG vomits on Jiwon's sweater, and Jiwon cleans up, DG notices the telltale marks that reveal Jiwon is BJ Alex. The mask comes off — Jiwon was brash, uncaring, and all about the carnal desire. The man DG lusts for was right in front of him, and it’s clear their relationship started on the wrong foot.
I’m reminded of a former coworker who’s into BL Korean dramas. He often shared posts from KR drama fan pages showing two men kissing passionately. It stopped short of showing intercourse, lest it anger the Facebook overlords. Needing context, I watched these scenes in their entirety: they’re just as explicit as the clips I’ve seen. BJ Alex is no different.
Ever since I’ve met Keito, a blip registered in my gaydar. I ignored it, thinking it was a mere coincidence. True, his artworks skew heavily towards male characters, often in various states of undress, and he takes good care of his appearance. This isn’t enough to assert he’s a gay man, but having read BJ Alex and considering how big a fan he was, it told me that Keito is, at the very least, queer. Y’see, the relationship of straight men with queer media is fundamentally different from that of queer people: they may tolerate it, but becoming fans of it? Highly unlikely. I’ve yet to meet a straight fudanshi.
Sometime in 2021, he pivoted to working digitally as he polished his skills on the medium. I vaguely recall him mentioning how he has tried digital artwork before, but it didn’t stick. It would seem that swapping the sketchbook for an iPad & Apple Pencil did the trick, as most (if not all) of his artwork to this day is digital. Then, in 2023, he was confident enough in his skills to begin taking commissions. As soon as I saw the announcement, I jumped at the opportunity.
The reference I sent Keito, an illustration of Street Fighter’s Akuma by Guillermo Silva (2015)
Watching Street Fighter 6 gameplay reminded me of Akuma’s signature pose: his back to the camera, looking over his shoulder, with the ‘ten’ kanji character clearly visible. Itachi could look very badass like that! I sent an Akuma fanart as reference: “I’m picturing an Itachi with his back to the viewer, looking over his left shoulder with a faint glow in his eye due to the Sharingan.” He asked what the Sharingan was and whether I could send him references of the character; I sent him a Fandom wiki page. Keito appeared to have limited knowledge — he knew who Itachi was, but wasn’t aware of the minutiae. I should’ve realized this was a red flag...
While coming along nicely from the thumbnails, the full piece told a different story. My initial excitement gave way quickly to unease. Something about it didn't click, even as I struggled to pinpoint exactly what. I ask myself questions without answers: Did Keito not seek additional references? Am I expecting too much of someone new to commission work? Was there no way to make this work?
Keito Itachi (2023)
Days after our business was done, I tried to make the illustration tolerable to my tastes, but I was unsuccessful. It became clear to me that Keito's unfamiliarity with the source material resulted in a piece that, while certainly capturing a badass character, was not Itachi. Denial led to disappointment — mostly at myself — followed by acceptance and regret.
All I could think about was how I asked for this. There’s only so much one can gather from references, and the essence of who the character is isn’t one of them. Still, we both thought it could work if the conversation is anything to go by. I saw in Keito not only an attractive young man but also someone whose art I genuinely liked. He may have seen in me an opportunity to make money, despite his unfamiliarity. We both should’ve backed out of the request. I let my excitement cloud my judgment.
Given the circumstances, there’s no way this could’ve been anything other than a soulless rendition of Itachi. Was he at fault? Was I at fault? I’d argue we both share the blame for this not working.
Full of regret for what could’ve been, I had no choice but to wear blazpu’s crafted mask once more…
Lancha Itachi (2025)
This time, I'd be weighing things very differently. Liking their art style wasn't enough; they also needed to be familiar with Itachi — though not necessarily a Naruto fan — and have the technical skill to depict a particular interpretation I sought for this piece. Maybe I was setting impossible standards for myself, wanting all these criteria met. The Keito commission had left me with regrets about that balance, and I didn't want to make the same mistake twice. Trying to put this hesitancy into words is harder than I thought... hopefully, it'll all make sense by the end.
After years of thinking of Itachi as this cool, badass character, I began to consider the weight he actually carried. Itachi knew about his clan’s planned coup, and if it happened, it’d be the bloodiest event in Konoha history since the Nine-Tails’ rampage eight years prior. The Uchiha leadership, including Itachi's own parents, expected him to side with the clan when the coup began, using his skills as a capable ANBU against the village he served. Of course, the Konoha elders knew. After uncomfortable conversations, Danzō presented Itachi with two scenarios: let the coup happen, watch civil war tear through Konoha, and lose Sasuke in the bloodshed. Or kill the Uchiha himself, become a missing-nin, and live forever as the villain in his brother's story, with Sasuke's survival as the only guarantee. Itachi was between a rock and a hard place — both options equally horrifying.
The day before the massacre, he watched Sasuke from afar — really afar — as he and Naruto competed in track and field. I want to think he was having one last look at his little brother before crossing a point of no return, before becoming a criminal of the highest order. Just before killing his parents, Itachi cried. It sank in what he was doing.
“I will love you always.”
Itachi played the villain to the very end, all to protect Sasuke. Even when the mask slipped in his final moments, there was no time to explain — only a poke to Sasuke’s forehead before dying. Itachi took his dark secret to the grave. Later, when he was reanimated during the Fourth Shinobi World War, those themes of regret resurfaced. Itachi revealed how he wished it all could have been different, that his loyalty to both the Uchiha clan and his village didn't have to be such a heavy burden to carry. He didn’t seek Sasuke’s forgiveness for what he’d done, but made sure to let him know that he loved him — and always had.
I don't think I'm qualified to comment on Masashi Kishimoto's handling of Itachi's characterization, but I strongly relate to that interpretation — to the idea of someone carrying irreversible choices made under impossible circumstances, living with grief over doing what seemed right while knowing it would haunt them.
Nearing 40, with more time to myself than what's healthy, I've been reflecting on my life up to this point. The burdens I carry, the regrets I have... I find myself wishing for a time machine so I could go back and do things differently. Maybe I'm only running away. People would say that your 'self' is an amalgam of all the experiences you've had, and that you shouldn't wish to change things but instead wish for serenity. I find this to be nothing but a white lie, the kind people tell themselves to sleep better at night. I refuse to accept being told that these feelings — this regret, this desire to rewrite things — aren't human, especially as society grows ever more reticent about rocking the boat. At the same time, I am also complicit, given that I want to live as my authentic self for whatever's left of my life in peace.
I wanted someone who could capture this turmoil: this melancholy, this wistfulness I feel I have in common with Itachi.
Lancha’s PhaiDei illustration, a popular Honkai Star Rail ship.
When I committed to Bluesky full-time, I sought illustrators in the fandoms I followed. I eventually came across Lancha, a German artist, through our mutual acquaintance KasuTama. The first piece of hers I saw was an intimate Mydei x Phainon illustration that leaned more tender than smutty. She described it as "the most spicy you will ever get from me," which was unfortunate — I appreciate smut — but her depiction brought out a softness that felt perfect for that moment. I knew she was someone whose art journey I wanted to follow.
Months later, notable AU stories featuring Alien Stage's Ivan and Till were released, and I surmised they inspired her illustration of the two boys passionately kissing. By this point, I was convinced her rendering style — something close to watercolor painting — wasn't a one-off for the PhaiDei piece. This illustration had me closely studying the toning of their hair, particularly Ivan's. It was as if a violet or magenta light source was accentuating the highlights and shadows. Very lovely!
Watching her work on Ivan and Till's hair made me want to understand her rendering process more deeply. I discovered she did occasional art streams, and sometime in September, I dropped by during breaks at work, watching as she worked her magic. Appreciation became admiration. Although I'd been contemplating the concept for a new Itachi ident for some time, I couldn't realize it without funding — fortunately, I'd be able to afford it soon. On a later stream, I asked whether she did commissions. She responded affirmatively and linked her VGen profile.
Months of engaging with her work, an appreciation for how she conveyed emotion, and she did commissions? That sealed the deal. The question was: did she know Itachi Uchiha? Would she be willing to draw him?
Despite my confidence, I felt anxious throughout. The Keito experience still lingered, and I had the perhaps mistaken impression that some illustrators are too proud to draw "old" characters. Had she said no, I'd be devastated — that would've been the end of the road, and I dreaded going back to the drawing board. Vetting takes considerable time: Do I like this person's art? Do I like them as a person? Can they bring my particular vision to life? My overthinking nature really did a number on me.
Fortunately, not only did she know the character, but she was up to the task.
I prepared a quick mood board with the pose and several images of dresses — perhaps too many. All I wanted was to communicate how Itachi's robe should look crumpled across the ground. Only after I sent it did I realize I'd omitted the most important part: his expression. This could make or break the illustration. I could only hope she'd capture it with just the "wistful/melancholic" description.
The mood board in question. This is what I sent Lancha when I made my request.
I was surprised by the amount of freedom I was given. It's one of those situations where I wondered whether I was being too controlling or too lax — then I realized: I chose her for her style. I told that voice inside my head to go away, assuring her that while I had a vision for the piece, what I ultimately wanted was her take on it. I wanted this to be more of a collaboration, not me dictating what to do to get what I want. In retrospect, given my prior experience, I was perhaps too lax. It was a roll of the dice — I could only trust her to deliver something I'd be happy with.
We agreed on a pose that looked best among the sketches. There was even a variant with crows flying. While I appreciated the thoughtfulness of adding Itachi's signature corvid, it would've veered toward the badass look I didn't want. Some days after, she sent the lineart. It felt as if a huge weight had lifted from my shoulders. No longer was I fearful that I wouldn't like the final result. Not noticing anything that needed fixing, I gave the go-ahead. Around mid-December, I received the final piece.
Lancha Itachi (2025)
"Your capturing of the mood I wanted was beyond what I was expecting... like, I'm legitimately floored by this." I meant every word. Not only did I get a new Itachi to use as an ident, but it's an illustration I actually love. Conveying my idea and overcoming my trust issues were genuinely tough, but the result was worth it — I won't regret trusting Lancha to capture what I had in mind.