Desolate Unfolding 1/4
SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 550
Characters: Itachi and Shisui(healthy side-dish of Madara).
Summary: A plan starts to unravel. Decisions are made. What will you miss most?
Rating: Mature
A/N: I feel this madness needs a quick disclaimer. There are HUGE spoilers for chapter 550. That said, this is the second time my view of Itachi has been turned on its head. This bumbling monstrosity is my attempt to sort out details in my head of what really happened. I do not claim to be anywhere near the truth, but I had fun writing this. It's an experimentation of characterization as well, so feed back on that would be helpful!
This is self-edited a few times. There will be mistake, feel free to tell me about them. The rating is for some disturbing scenes with Madara that I didn't feel quite comfortable being labelled as 'Teen', even if they're probably not that bad.
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"Ninja are not heroes. Heroes are people who save lives, not those who take them." Shisui sat on his futon as he spoke. They had notes spread all over the room and a huge map of the Uchiha compound pinned to the wall and covered in push pin dots. Shisui looked up at Itachi. "Even if you stop a war, killing them won't make you a hero."
"Why would I want to be a hero for killing my family?" Itachi asked. He winced as Shisui smacked him on the forehead with a scroll.
"Don't think of them like that or you'll never be able to do it." Shisui pointed the scroll at Itachi’s forehead, and Itachi nodded. He had to or Shisui would smack him harder. He knew Shisui was right anyway. Itachi pushed his bangs back from his face and then just buried his face in his hands. He took a few moments to breath. Sometimes, even though they'd been hassling with the problem for a year and talked about how this might happen for a few months, it still felt overwhelming. There were too many variables. They needed to simplify things, but you couldn't add things back in once you'd taken them away in this situation. You never knew for certain how things would turn out.
Praying and hoping wouldn’t cut it. Itachi didn’t think there were any gods or guardian spirits that would listen to a killers pleas anyway.
"I'll be there to help you. You know I will." Shisui placed the scroll down, this time placing his head on Itachi’s head. "You know I won't leave you alone."
Given Shisui had been the only constant in Itachi's life since he was two, it seemed obvious to Itachi and unnecessary. Shisiu would always be there. "I know."
If there was anyone he trusted without a doubt it was Shisui. He was more than a parent or a brother. He'd been Itachi's idol for ages, but, now, as Itachi grew older and could actually compete with Shisui, he was turning into something much better. The slow change of their relationship was both frightening and exciting. They were almost equals, and while shedding the skin of a follower was painful, the position had started to chafe.
"I'll try to talk them around again. We've got another meeting," Shisui pushed his crazy hair behind his ear. He was actually going grey in places. Shisui hadn't noticed it yet, but Itachi had. He'd also started getting creases in his face that got deeper as the months went by.
"What were they stuck on last time?" Itachi shifted through more papers.
"The Registry law." Shisui rubbed his face. "They want it completely altered. All the clans have to follow that one. Sarutobi agreed to drop the housing restriction and Fugaku-sama even agreed to open up the police force, but then they started in on the Registry law...." Shisui shook his head. "Changing that would take years." And they didn't have years. The year they had was dwindling into something like months. Maybe weeks. Itachi felt nervous all over again. Trying to talk out the problem between their stiff-necked clan and the rigid Konoha wouldn’t work, and they both knew it by now. They still played at the idea, running to it like a child would run to hide behind his mother’s skirts in the face of a storm.
"Okay, look at the maps." Shisui spread one out. Itachi did. The sprawl of the compound was a logistical nightmare. How could they get this done? "Everyone has to be killed in the same night, preferably within three hours of each other. We have to do it silently, or it will turn into a war." Genius they might be, but more than half of their clan had fought in the war. While the Uchiha were weakening in number and ability, they were still a clan full of ferocious fighters.
Itachi pursed his lips. "But."
"But?" They'd been playing devil's advocate for all of this stuff for so long it wasn't even funny.
"What about the children?"
Shisui sighed--the long, aggravated sigh of a man almost pushed past his limits. "Itachi--"
"The ones young enough not to know--how can we kill them?" Itachi pressed. "They don't deserve it. They're innocent.”
"If you leave the kids alive, they'll just want revenge on us, and the Uchiha clan will be built on blood again." Shisui looked up. “We’ve been over this. That can’t happen again.”
"No, listen, not if Konoha supports them in seeking revenge. Then they foster a relationship based on a mutual enemy and seeking justice. It would work. The clan doesn't have to be wiped out. It just needs to be cleansed." Itachi shifted forward. “There’ll be trust. The clan will feel Konoha’s on their side, and Konoha can stop feeling threatened because the clan will be so reduced.”
"How many kids would you spare, Itachi? Where would you draw the line? You're only thirteen but you know. There are kids younger than you who would guess what had happened. Uchiha kids are smart and brutal, Itachi, you know that." Shisui pointed out. “If you pick the wrong one, all of our work isn’t going to be for anything.” Shisui wouldn’t let that happen. Itachi didn’t want it to happen either, but…
"Sasuke has no idea."
"Sasuke." Shisui sighed. "Always Sasuke."
"I can't kill him Shisui. I can't. Not even for Konoha, not for you. Please don't ask me too." Itachi begged softly.
"And if I killed him?"
The thought was ice water in Itachi's veins. He knew Shisui would do it. He also knew how he would react to it. He looked up at Shisui, who looked back without betraying anything. Itachi felt a hot shame creeping up his neck as Shisui dissected him with that look.
"You're not so different from them, are you?" Shisui's voice was soft, and Itachi hung his head.
"He's just a kid." It sounded like an excuse, and it was. A deflection.
"You've killed children before."
"Shisui--Please." He didn’t want to argue this again and be pinned to the wall with Shisui’s logic. Itachi fisted his hands and willed the flush to go away. He hated the way Shisui could make him feel sometimes with even a hint of disapproval. It had never bothered him before, but the last few months he’d stopped buckling under the admonishments and resented them. "I can't kill my brother. I can't. He's..." He was Sasuke.
"There aren't many younger than Sasuke." Shisui reasoned slowly. There had been kids born, but any with a defect has been exposed and left for dead. The Uchiha had no time for weaklings, especially with the clan the way it was now, but it seemed the inbreeding had caught up to them. Many born were imperfect.
"I can think of five right now. I know six people are expecting..." How many would carry to term? How many would be perfect enough for the Uchiha? They didn't have time to wait for all of them. Itachi felt ill. He...he didn't want to kill the young. He didn't want to damn the growing lives struggling in women's bellies. Who was he to dictate who would live and who would die? He was a man-a child-not a god.
"Hey." Shisui flicked his forehead. "Eyes on me, brat." Itachi rubbed his forehead, the familiar rebuke had him sitting on his heels and taking deep breaths. His eyes were on Shisui's. Shisui's powerful eyes that could bend a mind to its will without them even noticing. Itachi knew he could be under Shisui's genjustu, but he knew he wasn't. It wouldn't much matter if he was. He was totally Shisui's creature to begin with. Shisui had formed him, made him, loved him.
"Anyone younger than Sasuke, okay?" Shisui conceded. Itachi nodded, letting all of the tension run out of him. "You know what that means. We'll have to play the demons, Itachi. Your brother...he'll have to hate you."
"Better that then dead." Itachi's guts twisted at the thought of Sasuke hating him, but what could he do? They were backed into so many corners now, they had to cut some things to get out.
“No, you have to make him hate you, Itachi. He adores you just as much as you love him, and you’ll have to convince him with everything you have that you are evil. That you’re the monster.” Shisui’s hard eyes drilled into Itachi’s soul.
“I understand.” Itachi nodded, looking away from Shisui. He glanced at the sun. It was past noon. "I need to meet Madara."
Shisui's face twisted. "Okay. Be careful. Are you sure you can manage him?"
"Yes, I can." Itachi stood up. and leaned his hands on Shisui's shoulders and pressed his forehead to Shisui's. "You worry too much. I am the Uchiha genius. Perfect in every way." Itachi stood with that mocking statement. He stepped off the futon, dancing around the notes of destruction and plotting and conjecture that littered the room. Those papers...all those scrolls and scrawl were the sum of Itachi's life. Everything was bound up in them.
He wanted to set them on fire and watch them burn.
"Itachi."
Itachi stopped at the door and turned his head to look at Shisui. With a flicker, Shisui stood behind Itachi. His quick hands pulled Itachi’s hair down, finger combing it smooth in a ten count before he tied it back up with deft fingers. "You can't go out like that. People will think I don’t take care of you.”
Itachi glared over his shoulder. So much for being equals! Shisui's smile was benign as his hand fell to Itachi's shoulder and squeezed. He flicked the bell he'd somehow attached to Itachi's hair ribbon--an old joke. Also a good luck charm, and the way Shisui had kept track of Itachi during the war years when the air was too thick with smoke and soot to see.
Be careful. Be safe. Enemies are everywhere.
Itachi hurried out the door and down the stairs of Shisui's small apartment. He hit the road running. There wasn’t much time.
---
“It is very sad you are so content to be a pawn.”
Sweating and disheveled, Itachi looked up at Madara. His body stung all over with fatigue small cuts, and larger bruises. Itachi didn’t waste the breath to ask Madara what he meant. The old man sat on a stump, his hands limp but still deadly as he’d proven by tossing Itachi around the woodland clearing as if Itachi were a ragdoll. Itachi could hear the whistle of Madara’s breathing, as much as the man tried to pretend he wasn’t affected by the strenuous exercise. Itachi felt a smirk pull at his lips.
“You smelled like your cousin when you came.” Madara’s visible eye shot through Itachi and tried to crack him open.
“I thought the Uchiha were renowned for their eyes, not their sense of smell, Ojii-sama.” Itachi replied smoothly. It was hard to do that while gasping for aching breath. “You’ll have to teach me this new skill you’ve mastered.” Nosy old biddy.
“Oh, you look like him all the time--” Madara caught Itachi’s started protest with a flick of his bony fingers. “The way you stand, Itachi-kun. The very way you move and breath mimics your cousin. I do wish you’d grow out from under his shadow. You are better than him.”
“Aaaah,” Itachi pulled himself to his feet, allowing the wince to run through his body. His back ached abominably today. One day, when Madara threw him down, Itachi was going to snap like a dry twig. “This is the start to another Mangekyou speech, Ojii-sama?”
Madara spread his hands. “A speech for freedom. Your wings--your gorgeous wings, Itachi-kun. Did you even know you had them?--are chained down by Konoha and your cousin’s domineering ideology. You’ll never fly until you shake them off.”
Despite his age, Madara was quick. Itachi didn’t even blink as he found the old man close. Heat radiated from him. He smelled of musk and some dark spice that tickled at the back of Itachi’s throat. His hand caressed Itachi’s jaw line and his neck. Itachi’s body shivered at the jolt of adrenaline from fingers dragging on his pale throat. His lips thinned from the jitter of pleasure from the soft intimacy of the touch.
“My poor little cripple.”
If the man has lips, they were cracked and broken from the poison that flowed out of them. As Madara inclined his head, his heavy tangles of hair fell over his shoulder. Itachi’s red eyes flicked to watch them, his hand lax at his sides.
“I don’t need the Mangekyou to be great, Ojii-sama. I already am.” Itachi breathed the words softly.
“How limited your vision.” Madara’s finger flicked against Itachi’s chin, tilting his head up. Itachi had always wondered if Madara could create genjutsu with a touch. It would explain so much. So very much. “Are you frightened of the terror you could be, my child? Does it make you shake? Does it make your heart pound with frightened anticipation, my poor little cripple?”
Itachi’s heart pounded under Madara’s touch. The ancient man’s hands burned like a furnace through Itachi clothes. Itachi might as well have been naked in front of the man. Wasn’t he already? Stripped and bared and spread-eagle vulnerable on the forest floor, waiting for his master’s next command? His teacher’s bidding?
“Shisui serves me better alive. The Mangekyou will be the compensation for losing him,” Itahci murmured the words, not daring to risk his voice against something more forceful. His heart thudded. Tump. Tump. Tump. Shisui’s name didn’t slow it. It didn’t calm him as it once had.
“Oh, but you serve him, scrambling in his shadow and falling at his feet. I see it. You’re too soft to kill him. Too attached to your weakness.” Madara chuckled, the rustle of dead reeds on a dry river bank. “How adorably human of you, my cripple.” Itachi felt the burning touch on his side, sliding along the skin and ribs where a man might shove a knife in and kill in an instant.
Here. Now you’re dead.
“We act in tandem. We have the same goals.”
“You do, because you can’t see anything but him.” A finger drawn up his spine, counting each vertebra. Itachi thought of all the injuries each one crushed would cause. His eyes were on the sky. “You’d even kill your parents for him.”
“They’re only my parents in name.” That was spat with venom. His parents...those who had formed his flesh half way and then dumped him into the arms of a child. He couldn’t think of them with any affection even after all these years.
“Aaaaah, now we found the crux of it.” There was the vibration of amusement in his voice. “You’re so devoted to him, you can’t even see the hold he has on you…Shisui and his magic eyes.”
“He doesn’t have me under a genjutsu.” Itachi counted the clouds as they hurried by. Madara’s fingers tapped the base of his skull. Instant death.
“He doesn’t have to. It’s all much more powerful than that. The influence of a parent over a child, the beloved over the lover, the mentor over the student is a terrible things. Your every thought is subject to his forming, and you, having served his whims so long, think them to be yours.
“But you know it’s not.” Madara moved to Itachi’s side, drawing his hand around Itachi’s neck. “You feel his ideology rattle against who you really are. It makes you feel out of tune. You’re not like Shisui, are you, my child? You are your parent’s offspring.” Madara stood behind Itachi as he spoke. Itachi felt a nervous sweat start up on the back of his neck. “What would you sound like-what song would you sing with your flesh and mind if you were finally in tune, my poor cripple?”
“Shisui raised me. Shisui made me what I am.” Itachi didn’t turn. “He’s made me better than any of you.”
“And you won’t let me drag you down.” The man stepped closer. Itachi’s body shuddered.
“That’s the only reason I’m here and not telling everyone about your presence. If I were my parent’s child, I’d be in their meetings, planning how to break the world over my desires. You wouldn’t have this chance to mold me. Perhaps you should thank him.” Itachi’s voice stopped as he felt Madara’s fingers loop around his neck.
“Oh no, we would meet in any universe with any variables. You’re drawn to me, my little cripple. Despite your cousin’s influence, you desire what I can give you. You want power. You crave it.” The calloused pads of Madara’s fingers pressed along Itachi’s pulse. Itachi tensed, excitement and fear singing through him. “So your cousin makes you a better being. So you can save the world.
“What about Sasuke? Is he better? Is he different from all the others?”
“Of course.” Itachi relaxed his throat for the tightening of Madara’s fingers, so they sank into his unresisting flesh. Yield. Draw him in. Then finish him.
“Why? He was raised by your parents. He’s you without Shisui. You without your cousins word’s and thoughts to shape you away from the Uchiha depravity. Why is he so different from you? So better? Because you love him?” Madara’s hand moved up and laced around Itachi’s mouth, pressing his lips back against his teeth. “But he is you, stripped of the genius infusion of Shisui. Do you know how you cousin benefited you in never telling you what you couldn’t do? He allowed you to grow so quickly. He allowed you to race when other would have demanded you crawl--but don’t give him all the credit. He would have been the ruin of any other child. Anyone else would have crashed and shattered, but not you.
“You, my darling cripple, flew. And then you let him clip your wings.” Madara’s voice crackled in his ear like a roaring fire. “What an idiot you are. A blinded idiot.” Madara’s hand ran up his face, across his eyes. They pulled Itachi’s bangs back from his face. “Now open your eyes and see the truth.”
Itachi opened his eyes, but the world hadn’t changed. “Sasuke’s not like me.”
“No, you had Shisui to mold you. Sasuke has your parents.” Madara pulled Itachi’s hair back and smoothed the boy’s hair. The bell in his ponytail jangled softly in his ear. “Sasuke will be just another Uchiha, and all your righteous planning will come to not.”
Itachi whipped around, kunai in hand, eyes blazing. He didn’t make it. Madara turned with him, and Itachi hit the ground on his hands and knees. One of Madara’s hands was knotting in the hair at the back of his head. The other rested heavy between Itachi’s shoulder blades as the old man weighed Itachi down to earth.
“No, my cripple, let me show you what it means to have absolute power over every aspect of your opponent.” The hot whisper fell like a sensation over Itachi’s bared neck and slid into his throat.
Itachi’s body shuddered. He head bowed for the coming torment, and he promised, this time, he wouldn’t scream or beg.
---
“Ashes and death, Itachi. You’re covered in bruises.”
Itachi snatched his knees up against his chest and sank down into the water. “I’m also bathing.”
“When did you get so shy?” Shisui sat down on the rim of the tub. He was dressed carefully his father’s heavy ring on his finger. He smelled rich and fake. He passed his hand over Itachi’s head. Itachi gave a shudder. Shisui yanked his hand back.
“There too?”
“Just tired.” Itachi leaned his chin on his knees. The bruises on his wrists were turning blue now.
“You don’t have to do this.” Shisui reached down and took Itachi’s chin, turning it to the light. “Ashbits, your eye’s bloodshot all round, Itachi. Were you training or getting beaten?” There was hard anger under the soft concern of Shisui’s face.
“I do, and it’s all right.” Itachi pushed Shisui’s hand away. Itachi reluctantly uncurled and reached for a towel. Shisui handed it to him and watched as Itachi pulled himself from the cooling water. Itachi snapped the towel around his body as soon as he could, tucking it high against his chest.
“Are you going home?”
Itachi shook his head. He held out a mottled arm for Shisui to see. “Not like this.” Shisui reached out and touched one of the larger bruises with sigh.
“You should have let me do this.”
“He wouldn’t teach you.” Because Shisui, Madara knew, could not be changed or influenced. He was no fun. Itachi...Itachi could fracture and bend. His flesh was young and pliable, and so deliciously conflicted and cracked. Shisui was already solid and set. Of course, Itachi would never let himself be changed or broken by Madara. It just didn’t hurt that the man thought he could.
Shisui frowned as pushing back Itachi’s bangs. He tapped Itachi’s bruised cheekbone. “I have to go out with ‘the boys’ tonight. You know. Drinking, carousing, picking up women.” Shisui smiled. It was part of their grand charade. Shisui was the Uchiha’s golden boy, and he played the part excellently. Itachi was tempted to say Shisui enjoyed it, the going out parts. There was always a giddiness around him when he came back smelling of drink and smoke and women.
Itachi scowled and felt his face heat. “Don’t bring anyone back here.”
“You’re such a kid, you know that? No other ANBU blushes when sex is mentioned.” Shisui teased, and Itachi felt his cheeks grow hotter. Shisui chuckled. “Gods, you know I love you kid.”
“Not a kid.” Itachi muttered.
“You’re such a kid. I need the reminder sometimes that you’re still my baby cousin anyway.” Shisui smiled like he didn’t often. It was open and relaxed--so warm but not burning. Itachi smiled a little back. “But you’re growing. Puberty and everything--minus the chest hair.” Itachi glared. Murderously. He took back his smile. “Maybe I should bring you back a woman.”
Itachi felt his face get even hotter. He kicked at Shisui’s ankle. Shisui jumped onto the bathroom counter as Itachi seethed. “If you do, I will castrate you.”
“A guy?”
“SHISUI.”
“I will support you wherever your interests take you--barring bestiality. You should feel open to share the budding feelings of sexuality with me.” Shisui was serious. Devil and demons, Itachi wanted to melt into the floor.
Itachi put his head in his hands. He wondered if his face or his hair would catch on fire first. He loved his cousin, but Shisui also loved to tease Itachi mercilessly. He was the only one who could get away with it. “Shisui. Shut up and go away. Please go away.”
“So....no budding feelings?” Itachi heard Shisui shift, probably sitting down on the counter. Itachi remained stoic behind his hands, afraid he might squeak if he tried to speak.
“Maybe for me?” That got Itachi’s eyes up. Embarrassment fled in the face of mortification. “It’s not uncommon for children to develop their first romantic fantasies around their parents, so given I was both your parents and best friend, you having adolescent sexual fantasies about me--” Itachi gave up on dignity and started trying to strangle Shisui so that he would shut up. Shisui laughed now. He also fended of Itachi’s blows with ease.
“Towel’s slipping!” Shisui pointed out. Itachi used the opening to smack Shisui in the solar plexus. He then grabbed the towel that had retreated down his body past his hips. Itachi tugged the towel up and left the bathroom, grumbling under his breath.
“Itachi.” Shisui’s voice caught him at the door. Itachi turned his head, and Shisui wasn’t smiling anymore. He was looking at Itachi, and he almost looked lost. “Why do you have bruises on your hips?”
Itachi’s hand tightened in the towel around his hips. He glanced down. The bruises were ugly purple, red, blue with scratches lining and interlacing them. “He threw me down. The ground’s hard.” Itachi shrugged and walked out, towel wrapped around him like shield. “Have a good night, Shisui. Don’t drink too much.”
---
"What happened?!" Itachi voice rose and broke as he dropped the bag he carried. His hand fluttered to Shisui's face, his own a mask of horror. "Shisui--Shisui your eye."
"Hush." Shisui's voice cracked with pain, but when his bloody fingertips pressed over Itachi's lips, Itachi shut up. He stilled and thrummed with anxiety under Shisui's fingers. His round eyes were riveted on Shisui's empty eye socket, and why did Itachi have to look like a kid at times like this? Why? Shisui needed him to be adult.
"Morphine," Shisui croaked. Itachi nodded, probably shocked back into his childhood silence as he scrambled for the pack and grabbed the drug. Shisui slumped down against the river bank and pulled up a sleeve. He closed his good eye and concentrated on breathing. Even that seemed to hurt, but his skull was seamed with pain.
The tiny prick of the morphine needle in Shisui’s arm hardly mattered. Itachi worked with efficiency, administering the drug and then holding pressure over the prick until it had stopped bleeding.
“Who?”
“Danzou.” Shisui felt Itachi’s outraged twitch. “Oh, not himself, the fat fish wouldn’t dare. No, he sent someone after me. Several someone’s.” Shisui’s voice caught on his fractured skull and he whimpered. His next three breaths were little gasps where he wanted to be sick. Itachi froze, body humming again in a dangerous way.
“I’ll--”
“You.” Shisui grabbed Itachi’s arm. “I need you to get me home--after the morphine kicks in, okay? Stay with me and don’t do anything stupid.”
“We had a deal,” Itachi hissed. He sat. He gripped Shisui’s hand tightly. He still had small hands, though his voice was breaking now. He almost sounded adult if Shisui kept his eyes closed. Or like a teenager. An emotional teenager. That was even worse. Gods, what was Shisui doing dragging him into all of this? What kind of an idiot was he?
An idiot with no other option. Fuck them all. All their rules and regulations and idiocy--just fuck it.
“Yeah, guess he decided letting me run around with the ability to control him wasn’t such a good idea, was it?” Shisui’s hand tightened on Itachi’s as another pained spike drove into his skull. His voice rose high and tight with pain. “He was scared, so he took it. It’s not surprising.”
“He took your eye.”
“I have another.”
“Idiot..” Itachi pressed Shisui’s knuckles to his mouth. “That’s not the point.”
“Then tell me the point, Itachi.” The morphine was taking too long. Shisui wanted to claw at his skull. He was fighting to stay calm to keep Itachi from freaking out, but it was hard. Damn hard. “Tell me what your genius mind has decided that I am to inept to divine.”
“We had a deal.” Itachi hissed into Shisui’s knuckles. “He agreed, and we agreed--we agreed to kill our clan for him, and then he....”
Shisui flexed his fingers and pressed them over Itachi’s mouth. Itachi’s lips were trembling, from which emotion Shisui couldn’t tell. “We agreed to kill them for Konoha. Danzou’s just one man of many, and we knew we couldn’t trust him. This isn’t that unexpected.”
“Then why didn’t you avoid it,” Itachi snapped. His teeth threatened to actually bite, and Shisui pulled his hand back. He sat up a little more and opened his good eye. The world looked shallow and flat.
“I didn’t see it coming. In hindsight, it seems obvious.” Shisui smiled a little, and Itachi looked like he wanted to punch Shisui in the face. If Shisui wasn’t injured, he probably would have. “Help me get cleaned up.”
Itachi snatched a rag from his pack and went to the river. Shisui thought of mentioning how unsanitary the river water was, but he didn’t. He lay still until Itachi came back. As he reached for the rag Itachi held it out of reach. Shisui sighed and dropped his hand. Itachi began carefully mopping off the blood. When he reached for Shisui’s face, Shisui smelled the green taint of the river. The moisture dabbed at his face, but even the utmost care had Shisui gritting his teeth.
As Itachi carefully got the blood out of his eyebrow, Shisui whimpered. He hated the noise. Right now, when he needed to be strong for Itachi, he was falling apart. Itachi pulled his hands back. The breath he let out was unsteady. Shisui could feel the anger radiating off of Itachi like a furnace. That hot Uchiha blood. Hot Uchiha chakra. Fire was terrible destruction unless you kept it contained, but it was strongest when it ran free.
“Don’t Itachi. Don’t.” Shisui grabbed for Itachi but didn’t find him. He opened his good eye--both eyes from habit and his right lanced with pain. He grabbed for Itachi’s arm and fumbled before he caught it. “Don’t you dare go down that path, idiot. It’s not our place to take revenge, I’m the idiot who let someone get a hold of my eye. Don’t think about getting even.” Shisui shook Itachi arm. Shook it hard enough that Itachi’s head snapped back and forth. His eyes snapped to Shisui’s face, blood red in his bloodless face.
“You took your eye. Shisui, he took your eye.” Itachi’s voice cracked. If you didn’t have anger, what did you have? Childish hurt and pain at a friend’s injury? Horror at the defacement of something you loved?
“I know.” Shisui let his hand curl around the back of Itachi’s neck. “Help me up, Itachi.” Shisui leaned his forehead against Itachi’s. He smell salt of sweat and blood. Maybe something else.
“Help me get home.”
Characters: Itachi and Shisui(healthy side-dish of Madara).
Summary: A plan starts to unravel. Decisions are made. What will you miss most?
Rating: Mature
A/N: I feel this madness needs a quick disclaimer. There are HUGE spoilers for chapter 550. That said, this is the second time my view of Itachi has been turned on its head. This bumbling monstrosity is my attempt to sort out details in my head of what really happened. I do not claim to be anywhere near the truth, but I had fun writing this. It's an experimentation of characterization as well, so feed back on that would be helpful!
This is self-edited a few times. There will be mistake, feel free to tell me about them. The rating is for some disturbing scenes with Madara that I didn't feel quite comfortable being labelled as 'Teen', even if they're probably not that bad.
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"Ninja are not heroes. Heroes are people who save lives, not those who take them." Shisui sat on his futon as he spoke. They had notes spread all over the room and a huge map of the Uchiha compound pinned to the wall and covered in push pin dots. Shisui looked up at Itachi. "Even if you stop a war, killing them won't make you a hero."
"Why would I want to be a hero for killing my family?" Itachi asked. He winced as Shisui smacked him on the forehead with a scroll.
"Don't think of them like that or you'll never be able to do it." Shisui pointed the scroll at Itachi’s forehead, and Itachi nodded. He had to or Shisui would smack him harder. He knew Shisui was right anyway. Itachi pushed his bangs back from his face and then just buried his face in his hands. He took a few moments to breath. Sometimes, even though they'd been hassling with the problem for a year and talked about how this might happen for a few months, it still felt overwhelming. There were too many variables. They needed to simplify things, but you couldn't add things back in once you'd taken them away in this situation. You never knew for certain how things would turn out.
Praying and hoping wouldn’t cut it. Itachi didn’t think there were any gods or guardian spirits that would listen to a killers pleas anyway.
"I'll be there to help you. You know I will." Shisui placed the scroll down, this time placing his head on Itachi’s head. "You know I won't leave you alone."
Given Shisui had been the only constant in Itachi's life since he was two, it seemed obvious to Itachi and unnecessary. Shisiu would always be there. "I know."
If there was anyone he trusted without a doubt it was Shisui. He was more than a parent or a brother. He'd been Itachi's idol for ages, but, now, as Itachi grew older and could actually compete with Shisui, he was turning into something much better. The slow change of their relationship was both frightening and exciting. They were almost equals, and while shedding the skin of a follower was painful, the position had started to chafe.
"I'll try to talk them around again. We've got another meeting," Shisui pushed his crazy hair behind his ear. He was actually going grey in places. Shisui hadn't noticed it yet, but Itachi had. He'd also started getting creases in his face that got deeper as the months went by.
"What were they stuck on last time?" Itachi shifted through more papers.
"The Registry law." Shisui rubbed his face. "They want it completely altered. All the clans have to follow that one. Sarutobi agreed to drop the housing restriction and Fugaku-sama even agreed to open up the police force, but then they started in on the Registry law...." Shisui shook his head. "Changing that would take years." And they didn't have years. The year they had was dwindling into something like months. Maybe weeks. Itachi felt nervous all over again. Trying to talk out the problem between their stiff-necked clan and the rigid Konoha wouldn’t work, and they both knew it by now. They still played at the idea, running to it like a child would run to hide behind his mother’s skirts in the face of a storm.
"Okay, look at the maps." Shisui spread one out. Itachi did. The sprawl of the compound was a logistical nightmare. How could they get this done? "Everyone has to be killed in the same night, preferably within three hours of each other. We have to do it silently, or it will turn into a war." Genius they might be, but more than half of their clan had fought in the war. While the Uchiha were weakening in number and ability, they were still a clan full of ferocious fighters.
Itachi pursed his lips. "But."
"But?" They'd been playing devil's advocate for all of this stuff for so long it wasn't even funny.
"What about the children?"
Shisui sighed--the long, aggravated sigh of a man almost pushed past his limits. "Itachi--"
"The ones young enough not to know--how can we kill them?" Itachi pressed. "They don't deserve it. They're innocent.”
"If you leave the kids alive, they'll just want revenge on us, and the Uchiha clan will be built on blood again." Shisui looked up. “We’ve been over this. That can’t happen again.”
"No, listen, not if Konoha supports them in seeking revenge. Then they foster a relationship based on a mutual enemy and seeking justice. It would work. The clan doesn't have to be wiped out. It just needs to be cleansed." Itachi shifted forward. “There’ll be trust. The clan will feel Konoha’s on their side, and Konoha can stop feeling threatened because the clan will be so reduced.”
"How many kids would you spare, Itachi? Where would you draw the line? You're only thirteen but you know. There are kids younger than you who would guess what had happened. Uchiha kids are smart and brutal, Itachi, you know that." Shisui pointed out. “If you pick the wrong one, all of our work isn’t going to be for anything.” Shisui wouldn’t let that happen. Itachi didn’t want it to happen either, but…
"Sasuke has no idea."
"Sasuke." Shisui sighed. "Always Sasuke."
"I can't kill him Shisui. I can't. Not even for Konoha, not for you. Please don't ask me too." Itachi begged softly.
"And if I killed him?"
The thought was ice water in Itachi's veins. He knew Shisui would do it. He also knew how he would react to it. He looked up at Shisui, who looked back without betraying anything. Itachi felt a hot shame creeping up his neck as Shisui dissected him with that look.
"You're not so different from them, are you?" Shisui's voice was soft, and Itachi hung his head.
"He's just a kid." It sounded like an excuse, and it was. A deflection.
"You've killed children before."
"Shisui--Please." He didn’t want to argue this again and be pinned to the wall with Shisui’s logic. Itachi fisted his hands and willed the flush to go away. He hated the way Shisui could make him feel sometimes with even a hint of disapproval. It had never bothered him before, but the last few months he’d stopped buckling under the admonishments and resented them. "I can't kill my brother. I can't. He's..." He was Sasuke.
"There aren't many younger than Sasuke." Shisui reasoned slowly. There had been kids born, but any with a defect has been exposed and left for dead. The Uchiha had no time for weaklings, especially with the clan the way it was now, but it seemed the inbreeding had caught up to them. Many born were imperfect.
"I can think of five right now. I know six people are expecting..." How many would carry to term? How many would be perfect enough for the Uchiha? They didn't have time to wait for all of them. Itachi felt ill. He...he didn't want to kill the young. He didn't want to damn the growing lives struggling in women's bellies. Who was he to dictate who would live and who would die? He was a man-a child-not a god.
"Hey." Shisui flicked his forehead. "Eyes on me, brat." Itachi rubbed his forehead, the familiar rebuke had him sitting on his heels and taking deep breaths. His eyes were on Shisui's. Shisui's powerful eyes that could bend a mind to its will without them even noticing. Itachi knew he could be under Shisui's genjustu, but he knew he wasn't. It wouldn't much matter if he was. He was totally Shisui's creature to begin with. Shisui had formed him, made him, loved him.
"Anyone younger than Sasuke, okay?" Shisui conceded. Itachi nodded, letting all of the tension run out of him. "You know what that means. We'll have to play the demons, Itachi. Your brother...he'll have to hate you."
"Better that then dead." Itachi's guts twisted at the thought of Sasuke hating him, but what could he do? They were backed into so many corners now, they had to cut some things to get out.
“No, you have to make him hate you, Itachi. He adores you just as much as you love him, and you’ll have to convince him with everything you have that you are evil. That you’re the monster.” Shisui’s hard eyes drilled into Itachi’s soul.
“I understand.” Itachi nodded, looking away from Shisui. He glanced at the sun. It was past noon. "I need to meet Madara."
Shisui's face twisted. "Okay. Be careful. Are you sure you can manage him?"
"Yes, I can." Itachi stood up. and leaned his hands on Shisui's shoulders and pressed his forehead to Shisui's. "You worry too much. I am the Uchiha genius. Perfect in every way." Itachi stood with that mocking statement. He stepped off the futon, dancing around the notes of destruction and plotting and conjecture that littered the room. Those papers...all those scrolls and scrawl were the sum of Itachi's life. Everything was bound up in them.
He wanted to set them on fire and watch them burn.
"Itachi."
Itachi stopped at the door and turned his head to look at Shisui. With a flicker, Shisui stood behind Itachi. His quick hands pulled Itachi’s hair down, finger combing it smooth in a ten count before he tied it back up with deft fingers. "You can't go out like that. People will think I don’t take care of you.”
Itachi glared over his shoulder. So much for being equals! Shisui's smile was benign as his hand fell to Itachi's shoulder and squeezed. He flicked the bell he'd somehow attached to Itachi's hair ribbon--an old joke. Also a good luck charm, and the way Shisui had kept track of Itachi during the war years when the air was too thick with smoke and soot to see.
Be careful. Be safe. Enemies are everywhere.
Itachi hurried out the door and down the stairs of Shisui's small apartment. He hit the road running. There wasn’t much time.
---
“It is very sad you are so content to be a pawn.”
Sweating and disheveled, Itachi looked up at Madara. His body stung all over with fatigue small cuts, and larger bruises. Itachi didn’t waste the breath to ask Madara what he meant. The old man sat on a stump, his hands limp but still deadly as he’d proven by tossing Itachi around the woodland clearing as if Itachi were a ragdoll. Itachi could hear the whistle of Madara’s breathing, as much as the man tried to pretend he wasn’t affected by the strenuous exercise. Itachi felt a smirk pull at his lips.
“You smelled like your cousin when you came.” Madara’s visible eye shot through Itachi and tried to crack him open.
“I thought the Uchiha were renowned for their eyes, not their sense of smell, Ojii-sama.” Itachi replied smoothly. It was hard to do that while gasping for aching breath. “You’ll have to teach me this new skill you’ve mastered.” Nosy old biddy.
“Oh, you look like him all the time--” Madara caught Itachi’s started protest with a flick of his bony fingers. “The way you stand, Itachi-kun. The very way you move and breath mimics your cousin. I do wish you’d grow out from under his shadow. You are better than him.”
“Aaaah,” Itachi pulled himself to his feet, allowing the wince to run through his body. His back ached abominably today. One day, when Madara threw him down, Itachi was going to snap like a dry twig. “This is the start to another Mangekyou speech, Ojii-sama?”
Madara spread his hands. “A speech for freedom. Your wings--your gorgeous wings, Itachi-kun. Did you even know you had them?--are chained down by Konoha and your cousin’s domineering ideology. You’ll never fly until you shake them off.”
Despite his age, Madara was quick. Itachi didn’t even blink as he found the old man close. Heat radiated from him. He smelled of musk and some dark spice that tickled at the back of Itachi’s throat. His hand caressed Itachi’s jaw line and his neck. Itachi’s body shivered at the jolt of adrenaline from fingers dragging on his pale throat. His lips thinned from the jitter of pleasure from the soft intimacy of the touch.
“My poor little cripple.”
If the man has lips, they were cracked and broken from the poison that flowed out of them. As Madara inclined his head, his heavy tangles of hair fell over his shoulder. Itachi’s red eyes flicked to watch them, his hand lax at his sides.
“I don’t need the Mangekyou to be great, Ojii-sama. I already am.” Itachi breathed the words softly.
“How limited your vision.” Madara’s finger flicked against Itachi’s chin, tilting his head up. Itachi had always wondered if Madara could create genjutsu with a touch. It would explain so much. So very much. “Are you frightened of the terror you could be, my child? Does it make you shake? Does it make your heart pound with frightened anticipation, my poor little cripple?”
Itachi’s heart pounded under Madara’s touch. The ancient man’s hands burned like a furnace through Itachi clothes. Itachi might as well have been naked in front of the man. Wasn’t he already? Stripped and bared and spread-eagle vulnerable on the forest floor, waiting for his master’s next command? His teacher’s bidding?
“Shisui serves me better alive. The Mangekyou will be the compensation for losing him,” Itahci murmured the words, not daring to risk his voice against something more forceful. His heart thudded. Tump. Tump. Tump. Shisui’s name didn’t slow it. It didn’t calm him as it once had.
“Oh, but you serve him, scrambling in his shadow and falling at his feet. I see it. You’re too soft to kill him. Too attached to your weakness.” Madara chuckled, the rustle of dead reeds on a dry river bank. “How adorably human of you, my cripple.” Itachi felt the burning touch on his side, sliding along the skin and ribs where a man might shove a knife in and kill in an instant.
Here. Now you’re dead.
“We act in tandem. We have the same goals.”
“You do, because you can’t see anything but him.” A finger drawn up his spine, counting each vertebra. Itachi thought of all the injuries each one crushed would cause. His eyes were on the sky. “You’d even kill your parents for him.”
“They’re only my parents in name.” That was spat with venom. His parents...those who had formed his flesh half way and then dumped him into the arms of a child. He couldn’t think of them with any affection even after all these years.
“Aaaaah, now we found the crux of it.” There was the vibration of amusement in his voice. “You’re so devoted to him, you can’t even see the hold he has on you…Shisui and his magic eyes.”
“He doesn’t have me under a genjutsu.” Itachi counted the clouds as they hurried by. Madara’s fingers tapped the base of his skull. Instant death.
“He doesn’t have to. It’s all much more powerful than that. The influence of a parent over a child, the beloved over the lover, the mentor over the student is a terrible things. Your every thought is subject to his forming, and you, having served his whims so long, think them to be yours.
“But you know it’s not.” Madara moved to Itachi’s side, drawing his hand around Itachi’s neck. “You feel his ideology rattle against who you really are. It makes you feel out of tune. You’re not like Shisui, are you, my child? You are your parent’s offspring.” Madara stood behind Itachi as he spoke. Itachi felt a nervous sweat start up on the back of his neck. “What would you sound like-what song would you sing with your flesh and mind if you were finally in tune, my poor cripple?”
“Shisui raised me. Shisui made me what I am.” Itachi didn’t turn. “He’s made me better than any of you.”
“And you won’t let me drag you down.” The man stepped closer. Itachi’s body shuddered.
“That’s the only reason I’m here and not telling everyone about your presence. If I were my parent’s child, I’d be in their meetings, planning how to break the world over my desires. You wouldn’t have this chance to mold me. Perhaps you should thank him.” Itachi’s voice stopped as he felt Madara’s fingers loop around his neck.
“Oh no, we would meet in any universe with any variables. You’re drawn to me, my little cripple. Despite your cousin’s influence, you desire what I can give you. You want power. You crave it.” The calloused pads of Madara’s fingers pressed along Itachi’s pulse. Itachi tensed, excitement and fear singing through him. “So your cousin makes you a better being. So you can save the world.
“What about Sasuke? Is he better? Is he different from all the others?”
“Of course.” Itachi relaxed his throat for the tightening of Madara’s fingers, so they sank into his unresisting flesh. Yield. Draw him in. Then finish him.
“Why? He was raised by your parents. He’s you without Shisui. You without your cousins word’s and thoughts to shape you away from the Uchiha depravity. Why is he so different from you? So better? Because you love him?” Madara’s hand moved up and laced around Itachi’s mouth, pressing his lips back against his teeth. “But he is you, stripped of the genius infusion of Shisui. Do you know how you cousin benefited you in never telling you what you couldn’t do? He allowed you to grow so quickly. He allowed you to race when other would have demanded you crawl--but don’t give him all the credit. He would have been the ruin of any other child. Anyone else would have crashed and shattered, but not you.
“You, my darling cripple, flew. And then you let him clip your wings.” Madara’s voice crackled in his ear like a roaring fire. “What an idiot you are. A blinded idiot.” Madara’s hand ran up his face, across his eyes. They pulled Itachi’s bangs back from his face. “Now open your eyes and see the truth.”
Itachi opened his eyes, but the world hadn’t changed. “Sasuke’s not like me.”
“No, you had Shisui to mold you. Sasuke has your parents.” Madara pulled Itachi’s hair back and smoothed the boy’s hair. The bell in his ponytail jangled softly in his ear. “Sasuke will be just another Uchiha, and all your righteous planning will come to not.”
Itachi whipped around, kunai in hand, eyes blazing. He didn’t make it. Madara turned with him, and Itachi hit the ground on his hands and knees. One of Madara’s hands was knotting in the hair at the back of his head. The other rested heavy between Itachi’s shoulder blades as the old man weighed Itachi down to earth.
“No, my cripple, let me show you what it means to have absolute power over every aspect of your opponent.” The hot whisper fell like a sensation over Itachi’s bared neck and slid into his throat.
Itachi’s body shuddered. He head bowed for the coming torment, and he promised, this time, he wouldn’t scream or beg.
---
“Ashes and death, Itachi. You’re covered in bruises.”
Itachi snatched his knees up against his chest and sank down into the water. “I’m also bathing.”
“When did you get so shy?” Shisui sat down on the rim of the tub. He was dressed carefully his father’s heavy ring on his finger. He smelled rich and fake. He passed his hand over Itachi’s head. Itachi gave a shudder. Shisui yanked his hand back.
“There too?”
“Just tired.” Itachi leaned his chin on his knees. The bruises on his wrists were turning blue now.
“You don’t have to do this.” Shisui reached down and took Itachi’s chin, turning it to the light. “Ashbits, your eye’s bloodshot all round, Itachi. Were you training or getting beaten?” There was hard anger under the soft concern of Shisui’s face.
“I do, and it’s all right.” Itachi pushed Shisui’s hand away. Itachi reluctantly uncurled and reached for a towel. Shisui handed it to him and watched as Itachi pulled himself from the cooling water. Itachi snapped the towel around his body as soon as he could, tucking it high against his chest.
“Are you going home?”
Itachi shook his head. He held out a mottled arm for Shisui to see. “Not like this.” Shisui reached out and touched one of the larger bruises with sigh.
“You should have let me do this.”
“He wouldn’t teach you.” Because Shisui, Madara knew, could not be changed or influenced. He was no fun. Itachi...Itachi could fracture and bend. His flesh was young and pliable, and so deliciously conflicted and cracked. Shisui was already solid and set. Of course, Itachi would never let himself be changed or broken by Madara. It just didn’t hurt that the man thought he could.
Shisui frowned as pushing back Itachi’s bangs. He tapped Itachi’s bruised cheekbone. “I have to go out with ‘the boys’ tonight. You know. Drinking, carousing, picking up women.” Shisui smiled. It was part of their grand charade. Shisui was the Uchiha’s golden boy, and he played the part excellently. Itachi was tempted to say Shisui enjoyed it, the going out parts. There was always a giddiness around him when he came back smelling of drink and smoke and women.
Itachi scowled and felt his face heat. “Don’t bring anyone back here.”
“You’re such a kid, you know that? No other ANBU blushes when sex is mentioned.” Shisui teased, and Itachi felt his cheeks grow hotter. Shisui chuckled. “Gods, you know I love you kid.”
“Not a kid.” Itachi muttered.
“You’re such a kid. I need the reminder sometimes that you’re still my baby cousin anyway.” Shisui smiled like he didn’t often. It was open and relaxed--so warm but not burning. Itachi smiled a little back. “But you’re growing. Puberty and everything--minus the chest hair.” Itachi glared. Murderously. He took back his smile. “Maybe I should bring you back a woman.”
Itachi felt his face get even hotter. He kicked at Shisui’s ankle. Shisui jumped onto the bathroom counter as Itachi seethed. “If you do, I will castrate you.”
“A guy?”
“SHISUI.”
“I will support you wherever your interests take you--barring bestiality. You should feel open to share the budding feelings of sexuality with me.” Shisui was serious. Devil and demons, Itachi wanted to melt into the floor.
Itachi put his head in his hands. He wondered if his face or his hair would catch on fire first. He loved his cousin, but Shisui also loved to tease Itachi mercilessly. He was the only one who could get away with it. “Shisui. Shut up and go away. Please go away.”
“So....no budding feelings?” Itachi heard Shisui shift, probably sitting down on the counter. Itachi remained stoic behind his hands, afraid he might squeak if he tried to speak.
“Maybe for me?” That got Itachi’s eyes up. Embarrassment fled in the face of mortification. “It’s not uncommon for children to develop their first romantic fantasies around their parents, so given I was both your parents and best friend, you having adolescent sexual fantasies about me--” Itachi gave up on dignity and started trying to strangle Shisui so that he would shut up. Shisui laughed now. He also fended of Itachi’s blows with ease.
“Towel’s slipping!” Shisui pointed out. Itachi used the opening to smack Shisui in the solar plexus. He then grabbed the towel that had retreated down his body past his hips. Itachi tugged the towel up and left the bathroom, grumbling under his breath.
“Itachi.” Shisui’s voice caught him at the door. Itachi turned his head, and Shisui wasn’t smiling anymore. He was looking at Itachi, and he almost looked lost. “Why do you have bruises on your hips?”
Itachi’s hand tightened in the towel around his hips. He glanced down. The bruises were ugly purple, red, blue with scratches lining and interlacing them. “He threw me down. The ground’s hard.” Itachi shrugged and walked out, towel wrapped around him like shield. “Have a good night, Shisui. Don’t drink too much.”
---
"What happened?!" Itachi voice rose and broke as he dropped the bag he carried. His hand fluttered to Shisui's face, his own a mask of horror. "Shisui--Shisui your eye."
"Hush." Shisui's voice cracked with pain, but when his bloody fingertips pressed over Itachi's lips, Itachi shut up. He stilled and thrummed with anxiety under Shisui's fingers. His round eyes were riveted on Shisui's empty eye socket, and why did Itachi have to look like a kid at times like this? Why? Shisui needed him to be adult.
"Morphine," Shisui croaked. Itachi nodded, probably shocked back into his childhood silence as he scrambled for the pack and grabbed the drug. Shisui slumped down against the river bank and pulled up a sleeve. He closed his good eye and concentrated on breathing. Even that seemed to hurt, but his skull was seamed with pain.
The tiny prick of the morphine needle in Shisui’s arm hardly mattered. Itachi worked with efficiency, administering the drug and then holding pressure over the prick until it had stopped bleeding.
“Who?”
“Danzou.” Shisui felt Itachi’s outraged twitch. “Oh, not himself, the fat fish wouldn’t dare. No, he sent someone after me. Several someone’s.” Shisui’s voice caught on his fractured skull and he whimpered. His next three breaths were little gasps where he wanted to be sick. Itachi froze, body humming again in a dangerous way.
“I’ll--”
“You.” Shisui grabbed Itachi’s arm. “I need you to get me home--after the morphine kicks in, okay? Stay with me and don’t do anything stupid.”
“We had a deal,” Itachi hissed. He sat. He gripped Shisui’s hand tightly. He still had small hands, though his voice was breaking now. He almost sounded adult if Shisui kept his eyes closed. Or like a teenager. An emotional teenager. That was even worse. Gods, what was Shisui doing dragging him into all of this? What kind of an idiot was he?
An idiot with no other option. Fuck them all. All their rules and regulations and idiocy--just fuck it.
“Yeah, guess he decided letting me run around with the ability to control him wasn’t such a good idea, was it?” Shisui’s hand tightened on Itachi’s as another pained spike drove into his skull. His voice rose high and tight with pain. “He was scared, so he took it. It’s not surprising.”
“He took your eye.”
“I have another.”
“Idiot..” Itachi pressed Shisui’s knuckles to his mouth. “That’s not the point.”
“Then tell me the point, Itachi.” The morphine was taking too long. Shisui wanted to claw at his skull. He was fighting to stay calm to keep Itachi from freaking out, but it was hard. Damn hard. “Tell me what your genius mind has decided that I am to inept to divine.”
“We had a deal.” Itachi hissed into Shisui’s knuckles. “He agreed, and we agreed--we agreed to kill our clan for him, and then he....”
Shisui flexed his fingers and pressed them over Itachi’s mouth. Itachi’s lips were trembling, from which emotion Shisui couldn’t tell. “We agreed to kill them for Konoha. Danzou’s just one man of many, and we knew we couldn’t trust him. This isn’t that unexpected.”
“Then why didn’t you avoid it,” Itachi snapped. His teeth threatened to actually bite, and Shisui pulled his hand back. He sat up a little more and opened his good eye. The world looked shallow and flat.
“I didn’t see it coming. In hindsight, it seems obvious.” Shisui smiled a little, and Itachi looked like he wanted to punch Shisui in the face. If Shisui wasn’t injured, he probably would have. “Help me get cleaned up.”
Itachi snatched a rag from his pack and went to the river. Shisui thought of mentioning how unsanitary the river water was, but he didn’t. He lay still until Itachi came back. As he reached for the rag Itachi held it out of reach. Shisui sighed and dropped his hand. Itachi began carefully mopping off the blood. When he reached for Shisui’s face, Shisui smelled the green taint of the river. The moisture dabbed at his face, but even the utmost care had Shisui gritting his teeth.
As Itachi carefully got the blood out of his eyebrow, Shisui whimpered. He hated the noise. Right now, when he needed to be strong for Itachi, he was falling apart. Itachi pulled his hands back. The breath he let out was unsteady. Shisui could feel the anger radiating off of Itachi like a furnace. That hot Uchiha blood. Hot Uchiha chakra. Fire was terrible destruction unless you kept it contained, but it was strongest when it ran free.
“Don’t Itachi. Don’t.” Shisui grabbed for Itachi but didn’t find him. He opened his good eye--both eyes from habit and his right lanced with pain. He grabbed for Itachi’s arm and fumbled before he caught it. “Don’t you dare go down that path, idiot. It’s not our place to take revenge, I’m the idiot who let someone get a hold of my eye. Don’t think about getting even.” Shisui shook Itachi arm. Shook it hard enough that Itachi’s head snapped back and forth. His eyes snapped to Shisui’s face, blood red in his bloodless face.
“You took your eye. Shisui, he took your eye.” Itachi’s voice cracked. If you didn’t have anger, what did you have? Childish hurt and pain at a friend’s injury? Horror at the defacement of something you loved?
“I know.” Shisui let his hand curl around the back of Itachi’s neck. “Help me up, Itachi.” Shisui leaned his forehead against Itachi’s. He smell salt of sweat and blood. Maybe something else.
“Help me get home.”