On The Water
Title: On The Water
Rating: T
Summary: Kiss the shores. August is too hot for assassinations.
Notes: Canon...compliant. I guess. Slow build and shameless.
(also, first time dipping toes into ItaShi)
Chapter One: Yokosawa
Like every other month, August for Shisui meant the stench of blood and the trills and tremors of pain, only exacerbated by the sun and overbearing humidity. August meant the buzzing of flies around the dead bodies nobody got around to burning. August meant infection, August meant thirst, August meant sticky hands and sweaty foreheads and body odor.
Shisui was pretty done with Augusts, and so finally, this August morning, he turned in his request for leave at the Sandaime's desk personally. "It doesn't even have to be paid leave," he added proudly. "I got a job as a lifeguard."
The Sandaime puffed his smoke thoughtfully, and let the smoke rings drift up, up, up, even past the interminable towers of paperwork as he regarded Shisui’s forms. "Shisui, my dear boy, aren't you a little old to be having a midlife crisis?"
That was probably true. At twenty-two, Shisui by all surveys and statistics should be dead, or at least dying. By those same surveys and statistics, the Sandaime was probably a demonic spirit staying alive through the sucking of children's souls. "Better late than never," he said with a shrug.
"My dear boy," said the Sandaime, as he nonchalantly and inexplicably began to tear up Shisui's forms, "I don't quite believe that applies here."
Shisui gaped at his shredded papers. "Are you rejecting my request?"
"Not at all," said the Sandaime cheerfully, even as he set them on fire. "Enjoy your leave, my boy, but before you go, touch bases with the Council. Oh, and send in Kakashi on your way out, would you?" He scooped the ashes into his hands and blew them out the open window.
The Sandaime was probably having a senile fit because he was overdue for a feeding, or something. Shisui wondered if his own soul were young enough to be of interest. Relatively speaking, it probably was, so Shisui made a noise of assent, gave a bow and beat a hasty retreat.
Kakashi wasn't all that hard to find, wandering the streets with his lurid orange book held to his nose. Shisui, never one to waste energy, flash stepped to his side.
"Hokage has summons," said Shisui, walking next to him. Kakashi didn't look up, nor did he break his stride.
"Today's mission was supposed to go to your team," said Kakashi mildly, which seemed like just the sort of inside information Kakashi would know.
"Unfortunately for you," said Shisui with a broad grin, "I'll be lifeguarding instead. For all of August, actually."
"Lifeguarding?" repeated Kakashi, tipping his head slightly. "I didn't take you as the type for long-terms."
This odd wording gave Shisui pause. "Lifeguarding, not lifeguarding," he said slowly. "You know, at a beach." He suddenly frowned. "You have been at a beach, right?"
"A beach," echoed Kakashi. "Yes."
Shisui studied him. "A beach like the sandy, rocky expanse along the shores of crystal-clear blue water frequented primarily by women in bikinis and civilian children with floatsies and beach balls and sand castles?" he pressed.
Kakashi looked mildly disturbed at the image. "Of course," he said.
"Really?" asked Shisui.
"I've been to a beach, Shisui-kun."
"You've been to a beach, sure, but have you ever been to a beach?"
Kakashi snapped his book shut and gave him a weird look. "Shisui-kun, how many hours of sleep do you get on average?"
"Three to four," answered Shisui promptly. "But that's not the point. Have you ever gone suntanning? Swimming for reasons unrelated to espionage, recon, sabotage, and or assassination?"
Kakashi’s stare grew incrementally more uninterested. As Shisui waited patiently, if in a little horror, for a response, he merely flicked his gaze skyward.
"Well well, would you look at the time," he said vaguely. "The Sandaime must be expecting me, and I shouldn't want to late." He began strolling off. "It was nice to chat, Shisui-kun."
"You don't have to be ashamed," Shisui told him. "I can show you where Konoha's best beaches are next time. Lots of ninja have never been! You're not all that socially inept!" He considered this. "Relatively speaking, of course."
Kakashi only twiddled a few fingers at him. Shisui rolled his eyes, and then something struck him as odd.
"Hey!" he shouted after Kakashi, as realization dawned. "The Tower's the other way!"
Some ninja were just incurable, reflected Shisui, as he began sauntering home. It was a good thing they were already so fucked up, because there was certainly no shortage of others who wanted to fuck them up, and not in the good way.
Konoha’s beaches were the most beautiful on this side of the continent, and that wasn’t just some diminutive, close-minded opinion of Shisui’s. This was because Konoha’s beaches were in fact the only beaches on this side of the continent, seeing as the rest of the coast belonged to Kumo and the land of Frost. Wars had been fought, and quite literally, over some of the northern stretches of Konoha’s coastline, and decades of bloodshed had culminated grudgingly in a truce that allowed both Northern nin and Konoha nin to frequent beaches from the thirtieth parallel up. Naturally, this meant the only Konoha nin up here were either sociopaths or on patrol duty, because who would waste time mingling with blood-line stealing scum with already-perfect tans, when one could luxe it up at the glorious beaches below the thirtieth?
Uchiha Shisui would, it turned out. His lifeguarding assignment, as the fates had decreed, was just shy of the thirty third parallel, where the ratio of Northern civilians to Konoha civilians was undefined because it was simply poor math to divide by zero.
Still, Shisui was a born and bred optimist. Kumo women were still women, and beautiful at that; never mind if their husbands and fathers and sons liked getting freaky with other clans' eyeballs. Would he slice the throat of a Kumo kunoichi that tried to root through Uchiha secrets? Well, yes, but not a little regretfully. Although this was just Shisui's professional opinion, and one he would not repeat or admit to any where near the Tower. Or the Council's dubious and shady den.
Unlike the Hokage, the three Elders resided in a very traditional, very small, and very flat one room bamboo structure on the very opposite side of the Uchiha district and as such, very close to Shisui’s apartment. What they did in there was open for interpretation, but was generally agreed upon as lots of sitting, very little thinking, and a fair amount of diabolical laughing. Shisui ducked under the flap with substantial trepidation, which was pretty reasonable considering Shisui’s penchant for out-of-the-box thinking and the verbal beatings they generated.
He sunk into a bow before his eyes could even adjust to the darkness of the room. “Good morning, honorable Elders,” he murmured.
"And you, Uchiha." Utatane’s croaky voice sounded from the depths. “You may rise.”
“Ma’am,” said Shisui, straightened, and squinted. The Elders were sitting on their heels surrounded by flickering candles, illuminating their features into even ghastlier versions of their grotesque selves. Last time Shisui’d been here (three days ago), and the scene had been much more pleasant, with airy light streaming in from windows that had since vanished.
“We hear you wish to procure leave,” wheezed Homura.
“Lifeguarding at Yokosawa,” offered Shisui tentatively.
“Yokosawa?” echoed Homura. “You are lifeguarding at Yokosawa?”
“Uh, yes sir,” said Shisui.
“Do not, under any circumstances, set foot on the Kumo side,” said Danzo.
“Alright,” said Shisui.
“Any circumstances,” he repeated.
“Okay,” said Shisui.
Danzo glared. “Any circumstances,” he stressed.
"Right," said Shisui uncertainly. "Is that...all?"
The glare narrowed. “As long as you understand,” he said, threateningly.
“I do,” said Shisui.
“Then that is all.”
“Thanks. Thank you. Bye.” He backed out, careful to keep his eyes trained on Danzo. As the flap brushed back into place, Shisui dove for his apartment.
Shisui lived on the very top floor of his complex, which seemed like a good idea at the time, coming from the single floor, sprawling expanse of the Uchiha Compound. The novelty had faded very quickly - in fact just two days later, when he stumbled home after having been chased nonstop for eight hours with Cloud nin hot on his heels, and stared despairing at his apartment fourteen flights of stairs away. He might have just swallowed his fatigue like a true shinobi and hauled ass up to bed, but judging by how he had woken up with his blankets tucked perfectly around his figure, it was infinitely more likely that Itachi carried him like a sack of potatoes and tucked him in like the mother duck he’d always been.
Now, staring at the tiny, cluttered space of his apartment, Shisui was suddenly confronted with a dilemma of logistics and short sightedness: what kind of things did a shinobi bring to lifeguard? Shorts, sunglasses, a towel, sure, but was sunscreen really necessary? He had all sorts of jutsus for protecting against Sound nin attacks of all wavelengths - what were some PABA particulates going to do against UV that his chakra couldn’t? But either way, he scrounged around his bathroom for the sunblock Aunt Mikoto had pressed into his hands one day, and tossed it in his bags. Better safe than sorry, pride goeth before a fall, cleanliness is next to godliness, do unto others as you would have others do unto you - or something like that, right?
Shinobi work trained one to be able to act on short notice, and so within five minutes, Shisui sat back and wondered what else he could possibly need. Actually, that was partially incorrect. Shisui wondered what else he already owned that he could possibly need, the answer to which was nothing much but that spoke more about what he already owned than what he could possibly need. He slung the pack over his back, criss-crossing with his tanto, and thought for a moment who else he needed to inform. The good thing about being unaffiliated (more or less) with the Uchiha Clan was that he was unaffiliated (more or less) with the Uchiha Clan. Although, Aunt Mikoto may or may not care, but she was Aunt Mikoto, and probably knew he was taking a leave before he even knew. Itachi, on the other hand, most definitely would care, and most definitely would have some choice words to impart to him, but he and his overachieving ass were off on a mission in some godforsaken wasteland.
Would Shisui’s teammates care? Considering the fact that they were scheduled for that mission this morning he scrammed on, and had consequently been stuck with Hatake Kakashi, the answer was probably yes. But therein lay the problem, seeing how they probably already knew. When they got back, Shisui thought, he would have to watch himself. Anko and Tokuma, though lovely and upstanding members of society - or at least Tokuma was, being a Hyuuga and all - were pretty goddamn dangerous teammates to have when they were enemy teammates.
Outside of those four people, Shisui couldn’t for the life of him think of anyone else who might be affected. Such, he reflected mournfully, was the life of a shinobi. Minimize the magnitude of ties to cut and all. It was pretty sad. He could just vanish off the face of the earth, be lying dead face-down in some muddy river water, and it would be dismissed by the general population as ‘another mission’ or perhaps the ambiguous ‘shinobi antics’.
Funny enough, 'shinobi antics' was the exact phrase Shisui garnered in whispers while walking to the border. Each time he looked down to make sure he hadn't accidentally pulled on a green unitard and orange legwarmers or started walking on his hands. And each time he confirmed that he was indeed wearing just his normal, civilian-esque swim trunks and was advancing forward one foot in front the other as any civilian. Okay, he wasn't wearing a shirt, but civilians didn't wear shirts with swim trunks either, and besides, his modesty was being perfectly well maintained with with his tanto's leather harness and his six weapons crossbodies slung across his chest and then his sack of Real Stuff. So what was the problem? Did he look funny, or something?
Maybe he did. The chuunin at the border gave Shisui an odd sort of look. “Nice shorts,” he drawled. "Can I see your forms?"
Shisui looked down at his swim trunks again, uncertain. Hawaiian was definitely in this year, wasn’t it? Wasn’t Hawaiian always in? “Thanks!” he told him brightly, and reached into the third weapons pouch on his left hip for his forms. He groped around for a moment when sudden realization broke upon him. "My forms," he said blankly.
"Request to leave forms," said the chuunin, arching an eyebrow.
"Well," he prevaricated. Was this a time when the truth was better than genjutsu?
Probably not. “I’m sorry about this,” he told the chuunin.
“About - ?” was as far as he got before his eyes went strangely unfocused. “Enjoy your leave,” he said and gave a dazed wave. “Shisui-sama.”
Well, that was a nice touch. “Thanks, man,” said Shisui, and vanished in a blur.
Yokosawa cove presented modest offerings in the forms of tall craggy cliffs, cold clean waves, pebbles that dug painfully between your toes, and an excellent assortment of washed-up seashells. The sun was out, but that was a for now sort of thing, so Shisui tipped his head back to the sky and closed his eyes for a moment.
“...Uchiha-san, are you listening?”
Oh, that was probably the guy he’d found strolling the coastline. He didn’t recall giving him his name, but Shisui was pretty famous, if he did say so himself.
“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” said Shisui, breathing in the salty slosh of the ocean. “Go on.”
He heard the man give a dull sigh. “My name is Darui,” said Darui, presumably. “I have been discharged to work here on accounts of treason to Kumo. It is nice to meet you.”
“Treason?” Shisui cracked one eye for a moment to briefly regard the man. “You’re a traitor? Konoha takes in traitors from other villages.” Of course, they usually got conveniently ‘lost’ in the depths of the Torture and Interrogation Department never to be seen again.
“I’m not a traitor,” said Darui, in what must been his most passionate voice but in reality fell between bored and tired on the spectrum.
“Those who commit treason were generally known as traitors,” lectured Shisui. “And you did just say you committed treason. By the transitive property, you are known as a traitor. Does Kumo have different standards of rationality?”
“No, but Kumo has different standards of treason,” explained Darui listlessly. “I did not dispose of my teammate when he was wounded on our mission, and this was judged as treason against the shinobi code. But not my village. So I am here. But I am not a traitor.”
“Harsh punishment,” commented Shisui enviously. If it only took saving his teammate’s life to procure a vacation, he had been overdue this position since age eight. “How long is your, um, exile?”
“Two weeks,” said Darui mournfully. “This is my second.”
The wind was picking up, and from the sounds of it, a few families were filtering in through the scrub. Shisui took in a deep lungful of air and blinked up at Darui. Oh, hey. He was pretty easy on the eyes, what with burnt sienna skin and a shocking mop of blond hair. A week co-lifeguarding with this guy didn’t sound so bad. “I’ll take the chair on the left, then?”
Darui heaved another sigh. “Uchiha-san, that chair is on the Kumo side, and is therefore mine.”
“The entire beach is Konoha’s,” reminded Shisui. “I think I’ll take any chair I want.”
“But that side is definitely Kumo’s,” said Darui, who sounded very much like he couldn’t care less.
“How can even there be a Kumo side of a Konoha beach?” wondered Shisui, and then remembered Danzo’s words. He pursed his lips. “Oh, whatever. Go ahead, take the chair, I’m not about to get chastised over this.”
Darui gave a slow nod. “It was nice to meet you,” he said, but he made no move to walk away. He stood still, seeming to gather his energy, and then very reluctantly forced himself to ask, “What is your name?”
Shisui stared at him confusedly. “You called me Uchiha, didn’t you?”
“You are wearing the Uchiha fan,” he pointed out patiently.
“Oh, what the fuck?” asked Shisui, who took great measures to avoid that stupid fan. “Where?”
“On your,” Darui tipped his head toward Shisui’s crotch. “Backside.”
Shisui furrowed his brows, and twisted around to confirm for himself. “Goddamn,” he breathed. “That little fucker actually sewed the fan on my swim trunks.” Sasuke was a clingy, vindictive little bitch. No matter how many times Shisui tried to cut ties with the Uchiha, he kept coming back with literal needles and thread.
But also, and more importantly also, Darui had been checking out the vicinity of his ass. Shisui straightened himself up, and ran his fingers through the windswept toss of his hair. “Well, you can call me Shisui,” he said with a slow, sure, smile, and strolled over to his lifeguarding throne with better posture than usual.
Ten minutes later, it turned out the actual lifeguarding part was boring as hell, and not what Shisui had set out to do. But that was easily remedied.
“Kage Bunshin no Jutsu,” said Shisui, ignoring the mildly scandalized looks Darui was giving both of him several hundred meters away. “It’s efficient,” he yelled.
“It’s lazy,” Darui yelled back, but his face as Shisui switched spots with his clone was definitely jealous.
“Don’t be jealous,” said Shisui. “I can teach it to you.”
“Petty Konoha techniques are not compatible with my chakra,” said Darui, the elitist, and turned back to watching his crowd which was, naturally, much larger than Shisui’s.
Well, Shisui didn’t want to impart any petty Konoha techniques anyway. He pulled out a towel from his sack and flopped on it, as close to the tide as he dared. “Save any kids that need saving,” he told his clone. “That is, if any kids come at all.”
Half an hour into his job, Shisui went to sleep.
.
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tbc
comments are so welcome!
will be posted at the archive soon
here it is at the archive!