2/4 Desolate Unfolding
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
Sunset, I close my eyes
I pretend everything's alright
Drowning in anger from all these lies
I can't pretend everything's alright
Please don't let me fall forever
Can you tell me it's over?
There's a hate inside of me like some kind of master-Shadows by Red
No one could know, not until they’d dissected this new event and decided what it all meant for their plans. Itachi choked on a bitter laugh. Plans. Someone had stolen his cousin’s eye. Shisui’s eye. They’d plucked it out and fractured his skull. They’d hurt him. Betrayed him.
Itachi hated them so violently it almost made him sick. The flush of heat and then the sick chill washed over him again as he got something for Shisui to eat. Every time he touched a sharp object he thought of stabbing it into someone. Of twisting it in deep and making them scream. He hated these people who had hurt his cousin. He hated himself for letting it happen. He wanted to cry, but he was too old for the useless act. He should do something useful.
Like feeding the people who had hurt his cousin their own eyeballs.
Itachi drove Shisui’s knife into the counter top. Madara was right. Itachi was like everyone else in the clan, not Shisui. Shisui was a fluke. A marvelous fluke that deserved to be worshipped. Itachi was just another hateful clanner with revenge in his bones and death in his heart. Before now, he’d thought himself different. He hadn’t liked killing, but now...now that someone had crossed him, he found himself ready for murder-torture.
Itachi started chewing on his lip as he started for the bedroom. He tried to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working. His vision swam with the force of his emotions. He’d never felt anything this strongly. He’d never felt so driven and righteous and sick.
Shisui looked up as Itachi came in. He cradled an icepack against the right side of his face. The swelling wasn’t so bad. The oozing and bleeding had mostly stopped, and a quick rag wash has gotten the stench of the injury off of him. His color had improved, but he had the lax look of the drugged and pained. It frightened Itachi.
“Soup.” Itachi sank down and set the tray at Shisui’s knees.
“Thanks.” Shisui shifted. He set the ice pack aside and pulled the tray closer. Itachi watched his hands, which moved without a tremor now. The memory of Shisui, shaking and smelling of blood and vomit still rattled in Itachi’s head. Humans...humans were so frail.
So temporary.
“Hey.” Itachi looked up to Shisui’s lips and no farther. “This doesn’t change anything. We still have to carry things out. Konoha won’t be lost for want of an eyeball.” Shisui’s lips quirked, and Itachi didn’t have the heart to look up and see if he’d winked. Could you wink with an eye patch?
“Doesn’t it?” Itachi let his disgust show on his face.
“Not the big picture. It just changes the details.” Shisui wagged a finger at Itachi. This cheer...Itachi knew Shisui faked it for him. It was another reprimand that he should be in control. He wasn’t good enough. Not yet. He wasn’t Shisui’s equal. He really was a pawn.
Why couldn’t he be good enough?
“We can’t let anyone know, especially not the Uchiha.” Shisui was repeating himself, but Itachi just sat and listened. “They’ll just want revenge for what Danzou did, and maybe Danzou’s head on a stick. That won’t help anyone. It won’t do us any good to kill them after that and try to hush-up they were planning revolt--everyone will know Konoha ordered the kill.” Shisui’s hands moved absently as he spoke, painting the ideas in air. Itachi watched, remembering shadow puppets in bomb shelters.
“I won’t tell anyone.” Itachi didn’t bother to mention this put them on a short timeline. They couldn’t hide this for long. A day, maybe a week if they were lucky? It wasn’t likely. Sooner or later someone would come to see Shisui, and then they would know. Itachi felt a soft brush of paranoia. Could they hide it at all? Would someone find out?
Madara. If someone was going to find out, it would be him.
“I have to go see him tonight.” Itachi finally looked at Shisui’s face. The eye patch made it uneven. Itachi wanted to tip his head to the side to make it come into better focus. He kept his head on straight and looked away instead.
Shisui’s face shuttered. “Tonight.”
Itachi nodded. “Tonight.”
“Maybe you should stay...”
“Eat your soup, Shisui. It won’t take long,” Itachi promised. He stood up slowly. “You said we shouldn’t let anyone know. I don’t want to give Madara a reason to look into anything, and I promised my father I’d be home for supper.”
“Is it that bad?” Shisui asked softly. Itachi paused in the act of grabbing his stashed weapons. Some might have been Shisui’s. Material objects passed between them fluidly. The only thing they couldn’t practically share were clothes, but that didn’t stop Itachi from stealing Shisui’s from time to time, guiltily stealing snatches of his cousin’s scent while Shisui was away on long missions. That hadn’t happened for a while. They’d been together for more than a year now.
“You said the plan was still the same. You said nothing had changed.” Itachi pulled on an oversized flak vest and then discarded it. He took off his headband and tossed it onto Shisui’s dresser. It hit a wooden box and skittered up against the mirror. Itachi saw himself as a vague, dark reflection in the murky glass. “It must not be so bad.”
“My face--Itachi, why won’t you look at my face?” Shisui asked. Again, this was the soft, lost tone that unnerved Itachi completely. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t make himself look again. His own head hurt at the thought. He could feel someone reaching into his skull and plucking his eye out. Itachi shivered.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” Itachi moved for the door.
“Itachi, stop--why won’t you--just stop and look at me.” Shisui’s voice had risen not in volume, but in pitch. Itachi heard Shisui shifting to rise to his feet.
“Itachi, stop.” This time, Itachi didn’t stop. Shisui’s words followed him out. He tugged on his shoes and hurried down the steps without thinking about it. It didn’t matter. It was the first time he’d ever walked away when Shisui was calling it. It was the first time he couldn’t take the sight of his cousin’s face.
---
“Shisui’s not feeling well. I’m going to stay with him for the night.” Itachi stood as stiffly as if he were reporting to his superiors. His parents were still sitting at the table, lingering over smoky conversation of what-ifs and future desecration. Itachi swallowed the sudden rise of bile in his throat. He hadn’t seen them in a while, and all he could think was he was going to kill them. He was going to kill the resentful, proud, plotting people to save a village.
It didn’t make him feel like a hero.
“What happened?” Mikoto asked. They had never been close. When she’d had Itachi, her child for her clan, she’d been too busy fighting to do more than make sure Itachi was handed off to someone else. He’d ended up with Shisui, who had spent years trying to keep Itachi alive and growing. Should he feel grateful for her abandonment? Or that she hadn’t drunk poison to shake him loose when she’d learned she’d conceived him?
“A mild poison. He was given the antitoxin, but will be sick for the night and maybe tomorrow.” Itachi didn’t twist his hands behind his back. He wondered if lying had ever been hard for him. He didn’t remember it being anything but easy. He was a liar. His parents would be proud.
“You are certain?” Fugaku’s voice was gruff. Of course he was concerned about Shisui. Itachi nodded, wondering if his father was more concerned for Shisui than he could ever be for Itachi. Itachi didn’t feel any resentment for this. He didn’t desire his father’s affection. They were not close, just as his mother wasn’t close to him. Itachi wasn’t sure he had met his father until he was four or older, and he only knew the man as his father in a biological sense-a clan sense.
“I am. My staying with Shisui is just a precaution.” Itachi shifted the bundle across his shoulders. “I have a mission tomorrow, so I won’t be home until late.”
“There’s a meeting tomorrow night. Don’t forget.” Fugaku’s stern gaze demanded no deviance. Compared to Madara’s calm, insidious suggestions, his father held no power. Itachi realized what Madara had given him in the months he’d been training him then. It wasn’t just forgotten techniques, but a state of mind that allowed Itachi to resist.
“I’ll be there, Chichi-ue.” Itachi bowed at his waist.
“NII-SAN!”
Itachi lifted his head and had time to catch Sasuke as the boy rocketed into him. The boy latched onto Itachi’s waist and turned a huge smile on Itachi. The doubts Madara had instilled in Itachi faded away. Sasuke was so young and innocent--how could he be anything like the rest of Itachi’s family? He’d never let hate rule him.
“Nii-san, Nii-san, can you play?” Sasuke asked, bouncing up and down on his toes. Someone had had too much dessert, it seemed.
“Sorry Sasuke, Shisui needs me.” Itachi slipped out of his brother’s hold and stepped back. He tapped Sasuke on the forehead. “Next time, okay?”
Sasuke heaved a huge sigh. “You always say that.” His pout was uncalculated. If times were any less drastic, Itachi would have stayed. He loved his brother. The fresh-faced innocence was a balm against the harsh world, and no one else seemed to have time for the little boy. Itachi hid his smile and gently pushed Sasuke away.
“Next time.”
Except, Itachi wasn’t sure they would have a next time.
“Okay, good night, Nii-san.” Sasuke sighed.
“Good night Sasuke.” Itachi bowed to his parents again. He swept one last look over Sasuke before he turned away. It made him less anxious about the massacre to know Sasuke would be spared. Sasuke was so young and innocent he didn’t deserve death for what the elders of his clan were planning. He deserved a chance to live free of them
….but would he be free of them? Itachi remembered Madara’s questions and shook them away. Sasuke was nothing like their parents. He was himself, and he would prove that he was different. Itachi now felt Shisui’s calm rationale step in. Sasuke would prove himself--or had yet to. It was always dangerous working with an untried agent--person, boy. Sasuke had never been subjected to war or seen the results of violence on those who loved first hand. Who was to say how he would act?
Itachi, because if he couldn’t trust his brother to carry out his role, he couldn’t justify keeping him alive. The thought almost choked Itachi. The one thing he and Shisui couldn’t agree on was Sasuke and how he should be handled. They’d bounced back and forth over whether Sasuke should be allowed to see the massacre or not. Shisui thought so, Itachi thought not. Shisui said that everything should be real. Sasuke shouldn’t be sheltered from any of the horror. He had to believe beyond a doubt that his previously loving brother would turn into a monster.
Can you be the demon, Itachi? Can you be the hated monster that makes your brother scream?
He could if it meant Sasuke would survive this madness. Itachi shook his head and found he was already halfway to the outside of the compound. He never had his guard up when he was in the compound. Why did he feel safe in this den of conspirators? He knew some doubted him. They’d asked Shisui to watch him months ago. Shisui had almost laughed himself sick about that. It wasn’t really funny, but they didn’t have much to laugh at these days. Itachi imagined what they would do to him if they knew what he was planning. They’d lock him up. Question him.
They’d take his eyes.
Itachi let his bangs fall into his face. He stepped around one of his distant cousins, giving her a nod before he froze and really looked at her. Her hair was brown instead of black, but her eyes were the placid dark grey of an Uchiha. She wasn’t fighting fit. Her arms were softly rounded, the swell of her breasts against her simple yukata suggested that it was actually a little too small. One hand rested on the grand swell of her stomach.
“Konbanwa, Itachi-kun.” ‘Kun’. He was always still ‘kun.’ She was smiling at him, and Itachi slowly plucked her name from the family tree.
“Mamimi-san.” Itachi inclined his head and bowed slightly. “It’s been a while.”
“You almost didn’t recognize me, didn’t you?” Mamimi’s eyes twinkled bright. She rubbed her stomach. “Mou, I’ve gained so much weight these last two months, but only one more to go.”
One more month. What would she do if she knew her child wouldn’t be born? Would she cry? Beg? Would she try to kill him to save her child? Itachi couldn’t take his eyes off the rounded bulge.
“He’s kicking. Do you want to feel him?” Mamimi asked. Itachi didn’t, but he found her positioning his hand on her stomach, pressing against the taught flesh beneath the layers of fabric. “Do you feel him?” Mamimi asked in a hushed, singing voice.
Itachi did. The soft motion made him jump, but Mamimi held his hand to her stomach. Her face was glowing with pride and excitement. Her eyes were alive and bright. Her child. Her baby. Itachi swallowed bile and his heart stopped as she looked him in the face.
“I want my baby to grow up free, Itachi-kun. I want him to be able to hold up his head high, because he’s an Uchiha, not have people spit on him because of it.” The rise and fall of her voice was almost hypnotic, as if she already held the baby in her arms and was trying to soothe it.
Do you want him to grow up in the middle of another war? Itachi wanted to shout it, but he just nodded. The child kicked hard against his hand, as if it was trying to escape the confines of his mother’s womb. He was just like the Uchiha, kicking and smothering in the confines of the compound. Maybe this was all a natural process. Maybe these were just the birthing pains of something new and glorious.
Itachi looked the mother to be in the eyes and smiled as if he understood everything she said. Her answering smile was parting enough, and Itachi walked down the street again. He now noticed people calling greetings to him. People watched him walk by with a certain wariness and pride. He was their genius--or was he really theirs? Would he see through their ambitions? Would he turn tail and run? Would be allow them to be born again in flame and blood and death?
Itachi shivered under the weight of the eyes on him and ducked into an alley. He tried to clear his mind. Madara would eat him alive if he arrived with his head in such a mess
---
“Must genjutsu go through the eyes?” Madara asked. He had Itachi’s wrists slammed into the rough bark of a great tree. Itachi was staring up at the branches. He would not make eye contact. He’d been stupid to let himself get trapped like this. It wasn’t a day to work on taijutsu. This was a day for genjutsu and lectures on the fine art of coercion.
“Yes.” Itachi didn’t know anymore. He should have stayed with Shisui. His cousin had needed him.
“You can’t transmit it through the skin?” Madara asked. His fingers pressed hot against Itachi’s wrists. “Through the ears?” Madara’s voice was a dry song, like the playing of a reed flute. Itachi felt his body shudder, going limp under the caress of something he didn’t understand. He sagged against the supporting hands.
“You are so easy when your guard is down, my pet. Tell me, what has happened to the center of your universe to set it so askew? Why does your mind fill with the throws of adolescent angst. It’s beneath you, this troubled feeling of humanity.”
Itachi felt the heat of Madara press him down. His smell was thick in the air, wrapping around Itachi like a fog. He felt his eyes try to fall shut. Genjutsu? Maybe. Yes. No. Couldn’t be.
Power?
Yes. Sheer force of power. Nothing was impossible when you had enough power.
Why wasn’t he strong enough to make the impossible possible?
“What has happened to your keeper?”
Everything was a lesson with Madara, with its own rewards and punishment. Itachi felt another shiver pass through him at Madara’s words. The heat of the man had soaked into Itachi. He felt fevered without the ache.
“What do you hide from me, my darling little cripple?”
Itachi was good enough to keep his thoughts away from Shisui. He focused instead on the jutsu Madara had put on him. He felt approval from the man, but the lesson wasn’t over.
“Which is a better for persuasion? Pleasure?” Madara’s calloused fingers ran up Itachi’s palms, the heat increased. Itachi felt his heart start to race, his mouth parted softly of its own accord. Now he began to struggle against the unwanted intrusion. Now it started to alarm him, and he began to slip under this thick film of deception. It tried to pull Shisui into his mind. Itachi tried to use the thought of his cousin to center himself and fight off the illusion. Shisui’s touch, Shisui’s voice, Shisui’s smile-all combined with the heavy heat roiling in Itachi’s body. Itachi bit the inside of his cheek.
“Or pain?”
Madara shoved senbon through Itachi’s palms into the tree, electricity running down them and through Itachi’s nerves. The heat turned into a burn that ravaged Itachi quickly, tore him apart, boiled his blood. Itachi felt his head hit the back of the tree, breaking the skin. He tasted blood in his mouth where he’d bitten through his tongue. Pressure points were suddenly overloaded with electricity as he hung from the thin metal needles. The pain lasted only moments, but it was enough to have tears running down his face. At least he hadn’t screamed.
“Better.” Madara removed the senbon, and Itachi sank to the ground. He cradled his hands next to his chest and his body shook all over from the remains of the jutsu. Pain. It could mean so many different things. Madara made it mean agony of so many different kinds.
“See how the both work? Don’t deny yourself a useful tool because of morals.” Madara crouched by Itachi, his deadly hands loose on his knees. There had to be a smile behind his mask. “Mix pleasure and pain, and you can make anyone your slave. Do you see?”
“I see.”
“Says the blind little rat.” Madara chuckled. “Now, which is better?”
Itachi closed his eyes. “Pleasure is fleeting and engenders affection, which is unpredictable. Pain creates a stronger memory in the victims mind, and engenders fear. With each incident they begin to hate and fear you more, and you also become more powerful in their eyes.”
“Or?” Madara was inches from touching him, and Itachi didn’t have the will to pull back. Madara would hurt him no matter what he did. Itachi wasn’t strong enough to protect himself from Madara yet. Not yet, but one day. One day he would be. He’d have enough power.
“Or, if you have two agents, allow one to administer pain and the other pleasure. The victim will feel closer to one agent and more likely to tell secrets, but you still have someone that they fear to keep them in line.” There were risks with every approach, though. Having the supposed support of one agent could make your victim rebellious. It could make them better able to resist the pain.
“Is hate a stronger coercive than love, my little cripple?”
Itachi opened his gritty eyes to look at the man. He looked at Madara’s throat, pale and surprisingly young. “Yes.”
“No, no, think. You will do nothing I ask without good reason, but you would do anything for your cousin.” Madara used that coaxing tone. Try as he might, Itachi couldn’t tell if the man was using a genjutsu or not. Maybe the man was just talking sense in his own twisted way.
“Shisui doesn’t manipulate me into anything.” It was more a protest than the fact Itachi wanted it to be.
“Ah, does he not? Are there not things he does that you don’t agree with? Don’t you give over to his opinions because you trust him to do what is best?” Madara again forestalled Itachi’s protest with a flick of his long hand. “Is this not manipulation at its most basic levels? I am not saying your cousin doesn’t care for you, oh, never that, but he does use you. He is the greatest threat to you, my cripple.”
“I’m not killing him.” Itachi made himself stand. “Not for power, not for freedom, not for anything.”
“Or anyone?” Madara asked. Itachi paused before he nodded. He flexed his aching hands and decided nothing was broken or torn. Madara meant to hurt, not cripple.
Madara smiled. “See? Love keeps the one man who could kill your cousin from killing him. It is a more powerful and devastating hold than any other.” Itachi looked at Madara and wondered if he should even try to explain love and how he felt for his cousin. The words would just be twisted back on him. They’d choke him if he kept it up long enough. He didn’t speak. Silence had always been a safe place for him to hide from those he couldn’t argue down.
“Enough. We’ll continue tomorrow. I’ll drag the secrets of your cousin from your rebellious tongue then.. We’ll practice the application of pleasure, since you don’t understand its full powers. The time draws near, doesn’t it?” Madara’s fingers were interlaced. Itachi wasn’t frightened. Madara could never induce him, by pain or ‘pleasure’ to betray his cousin’s confidence.
Such was the power of love. Itachi smiled bitterly.
“I don’t know.” Itachi swallowed the blood and bile in his mouth. “I can’t come tomorrow. I have a mission.”
Madara waved a hand. “Make time for me, my little cripple. I have much more to teach you before the day comes.” It was a promise and a threat, all wrapped up in his silky voice.
---
As Itachi ascended the steps to Shisui’s apartment, he felt only relief. No matter what awaited him inside, it was better than what he face outside. In Shisui’s apartment, he was safe. He could be himself and not worry about hiding anything. Itachi pushed his way inside, breathing out a sickness and guilt that had gathered around him.
Now, to deal with Shisui. Itachi had been steeling himself for this ever since he’d left Madara. His bandaged hands somehow gave him courage. He felt almost like a child running to its mother after being bullied. Maybe he just wanted to feel safe, but running to Shisui for comfort while his cousin was injured had to be selfish. It didn’t stop Itachi from doing it.
“Shisui.” Itachi toed off his shoes and let his pack slide into his hand. “Shisui?”
“Here.” Shisui’s voice came from the bathroom. Itachi glanced and made sure Shisui’s empty dishes were in the sink before he walked over to the bathroom. He dropped his bag by the couch as he passed it. Shisui leaned heavily on the counter. One side of his face was slightly swollen, but it was resolving quickly. Shisui stared at the gaping eye socket. Itachi looked at his slightly bloody fingers.
“You feeling okay? You look pale.” Shisui didn’t turn from the mirror. Itachi shook his head.
“Not really, but I’m all right.” Itachi moved and picked up the gauze pad and tape. “Cover it up before it gets infected, and stop poking at it.”
“It really does look that bad, doesn’t it?” Shisui asked, eyes still riveted on the mirror. “Hideous.”
“You always look hideous.” Itachi reached for Shisui’s face and grabbed his chin. He placed the gauze over the hole in Shisui’s face, gingerly taping it down. “You should be sleeping.”
“I tried, but I kept thinking I was going to roll over on my eye…” Shisui shrugged. He reached for the gauze pad, absently. Itachi grabbed Shisui’s hand and flicked on the faucet. He shoved Shisui’s hand under the water and started scrubbing at the blood. It flaked off easily, but some was stuck under his fingernails. It wasn’t much, as Shisui chewed his fingernails-a bad habit. Itachi turned off the water and started drying off Shisui’s hand. He couldn’t blame Shisui for how he was acting now. It was the drugs. The pain. The trauma from losing his eye.
Shisui gently hooked his fingers in Itachi’s and turned Itachi’s palm up. The bandages around Itachi’s hands were still a little bloody. “More training?”
“You’ve broken my nose training me, don’t fuss.” Itachi folded his hand over Shisui’s and pulled him towards the bedroom. “Come on, I have an idea.” Shisui, with the utmost care, let his hand curl around Itachi’s, fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around Itachi’s hand. Itachi pulled his hand away only as they entered and walked across the room. He grabbed a large pillow-the kind from Ame Shisui liked to sprawl on or sleep with when Itachi wasn’t around--from against the wall.
"Here." Itachi settled himself on Shisui’s futon in the lotus position and set the pillow in his lap. Shisui gave his cousin a raised eyebrow look.
"Rethinking your leanings?" Shisui asked, but he crawled onto the futon.
"I can keep your head from turning while you sleep, idiot," Itachi settled his back against the wall. Shisui didn't protest. He didn't snipe. He didn't tease. He just slowly, like an old man, lowered himself onto his back and placed his head on the pillow. His face....
Itachi set his hand on either side of Shisui's neck, forearms stabilizing his cousin’s battered head. Shisui sighed, the air leaking out of him, deflating his chest as he closed his eye. Itachi could see the pain etched into the set of Shisui's mouth, and the line between his eyebrows.
"I'll have it figured out by morning, Itachi. You just focus on your mission."
"Just sleep. We'll worry about it later." Later. Now, it would eat at them, drag them down into nightmares and shifting dreams. Itachi pulled his hands up to carefully smoothed Shisui's hair back from his face.
"Later." Shisui's little scoff was skepticism embodied. Itachi shook his head. Shisui's bushy hair curled around his fingers. The matted blood was gone from it, and it smelled like Shisui again. Clean comfort that made Itachi want to just let go and stop worrying. Shisui would make it all right-but it wasn’t fair to think that way anymore. Itachi had to help. He would help. They’d make this right together.
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow never comes."
"When you wake up."
"And if I never wake up?”
Itachi let his silence last for a heartbeat too long-not that his heart was beating after those words. The sudden tightness in his throat made him think he couldn’t speak for a moment. Then he shook it off. Shisui was teasing despite the serious cast of his features as he looked up through the dark at Itachi.
"Shisui." Itachi leaned his forehead against Shisui's. "Go. To. Sleep. Or I will strangle you and you will never wake up in the morning."
"I love it when you sweet talk me," Shisui smiled, breathing out slowly.
"Mm," Itachi rubbed his fingertips against Shisui's scalp.
“Do your hands hurt? Where he stabbed you?” Shisui asked.
“No. Nothing hurts me. You can’t hurt the shadows.” Itachi let the soft, musical tone of Madara’s voice sink into his own. “Go to sleep, Shisui. Sleep.” Shisui’s eye opened. He gave Itachi a sardonic look and then closed his eye again.
It was a long time before the old trick of warm fingers rubbing his scalp had Shisui's body relaxing and his breath evening off into sleep. Itachi let his hands slide down to rest against Shisui's neck. He could feel the man's steady pulse. The drugs had slowed it, but it was strong. Itachi counted it in his head once. Twice. Thrice. Again and again until he'd assured himself Shisui's pulse would last the night. Then he allowed himself to fall asleep, waking every hour for another count.
---
Itachi didn't know if he wished his mission of guarding the councilman had been more challenging or if he was glad it hadn't. He'd had plenty of time to consider Shisui, to wonder how he felt, what he had decided, what they could do about this new turn of events. Shisui had groggily promised in the morning that he'd have the last of the details worked out by the time Itachi came home. They couldn't deny that there would be changes. Itachi didn't think the changes would be that big, but he already knew one of them. Missing an eye, Shisui wouldn't be able to help him with the massacre. It would take too long for him to get used to the lost eye, and Itachi wouldn’t risk Shisui’s life in a night fight while he was handicapped that way. Everything need to be perfect, and Shisui wouldn’t be.
Itachi would have to enlist Madara, which would please the man. The only problem was Itachi had no real control over Madara. At the moment, while Itachi would be a challenge for the man, he didn't think he could beat him. Shisui probably could, and together there was no doubt they could overpower the man. There was the question of whether they could do it know.
The mission ended early. Itachi was thanked gravely for standing around and being imposing even though he was barely over five feet now. It wasn't even noon as Itachi climbed back into Shisui's apartment through the window. Itachi stepped down slowly, easing his presence in. He slipped off his ANBU armor as he walked in, looking for his cousin.
"Shisui?" Itachi pulled off his boots and set them by the door. He received no answer and hoped Shisui was sleeping again. He needed his sleep to recover, but if he was in the bathroom, poking at his eye again...
Itachi shook his head and went to peer into the bathroom. Shisui wasn't there. Itachi checked the bedroom next and found Shisui sitting, head carefully in his hands. There were notes spread all over the floor. Shisui had pinned some to the wall. Scrawl covered one white washed wall, things angrily crossed out, some obliterated entirely. Shisui had been doing some serious planning of the chaotic kind, but it looked like it had wound down into something more controlled by the end.
Something desperate and frantic too.
"This is it, Itachi, the best plan. The simplest, the most likely not to get completely screwed up ten seconds after we put it into motion." Shisui smiled, barebones and empty excitement. Itachi didn't know if he was worried or if he should feed off of Shisui's excitement. He knew the high that came from planning and finally seizing upon the ultimate solution.
"So what is it?" Itachi knelt down across from Shisui.
"See, we'll use my Mangekyou as a contingency, in case Sasuke--I mean, well, any of the kids-doesn’t perform as suspecting with a command to protect Konoha. We can also get rid of the threat of my eyes, because you know no one’s going to just let a missing-nin walk around with eyes like mine. You'll also have to get Madara to help you with the actual massacre, so it all goes off smoothly." Shisui's hands twitched and moved as he spoke.
"That’s it?" Itachi pressed. The fragmented details didn't seem so different from what they'd planned, but Itachi could see Shisui was holding the pivotal piece of information back. “That doesn’t seem so different.”
“There’s one thing very different,” Shisui admitted. His hands stilled, and some of the manic energy seemed to drain out of him.
“What?” Itachi tried not to look as nervous as he felt.
"You have to kill me." Shisui smiled (as if it was no big deal), but he was utterly serious. Itachi gave Shisui a few moments to say it was a lie, that he was kidding, or explain how they would fake Shisui’s death.
Then he punched Shisui.
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
Sunset, I close my eyes
I pretend everything's alright
Drowning in anger from all these lies
I can't pretend everything's alright
Please don't let me fall forever
Can you tell me it's over?
There's a hate inside of me like some kind of master-Shadows by Red
No one could know, not until they’d dissected this new event and decided what it all meant for their plans. Itachi choked on a bitter laugh. Plans. Someone had stolen his cousin’s eye. Shisui’s eye. They’d plucked it out and fractured his skull. They’d hurt him. Betrayed him.
Itachi hated them so violently it almost made him sick. The flush of heat and then the sick chill washed over him again as he got something for Shisui to eat. Every time he touched a sharp object he thought of stabbing it into someone. Of twisting it in deep and making them scream. He hated these people who had hurt his cousin. He hated himself for letting it happen. He wanted to cry, but he was too old for the useless act. He should do something useful.
Like feeding the people who had hurt his cousin their own eyeballs.
Itachi drove Shisui’s knife into the counter top. Madara was right. Itachi was like everyone else in the clan, not Shisui. Shisui was a fluke. A marvelous fluke that deserved to be worshipped. Itachi was just another hateful clanner with revenge in his bones and death in his heart. Before now, he’d thought himself different. He hadn’t liked killing, but now...now that someone had crossed him, he found himself ready for murder-torture.
Itachi started chewing on his lip as he started for the bedroom. He tried to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working. His vision swam with the force of his emotions. He’d never felt anything this strongly. He’d never felt so driven and righteous and sick.
Shisui looked up as Itachi came in. He cradled an icepack against the right side of his face. The swelling wasn’t so bad. The oozing and bleeding had mostly stopped, and a quick rag wash has gotten the stench of the injury off of him. His color had improved, but he had the lax look of the drugged and pained. It frightened Itachi.
“Soup.” Itachi sank down and set the tray at Shisui’s knees.
“Thanks.” Shisui shifted. He set the ice pack aside and pulled the tray closer. Itachi watched his hands, which moved without a tremor now. The memory of Shisui, shaking and smelling of blood and vomit still rattled in Itachi’s head. Humans...humans were so frail.
So temporary.
“Hey.” Itachi looked up to Shisui’s lips and no farther. “This doesn’t change anything. We still have to carry things out. Konoha won’t be lost for want of an eyeball.” Shisui’s lips quirked, and Itachi didn’t have the heart to look up and see if he’d winked. Could you wink with an eye patch?
“Doesn’t it?” Itachi let his disgust show on his face.
“Not the big picture. It just changes the details.” Shisui wagged a finger at Itachi. This cheer...Itachi knew Shisui faked it for him. It was another reprimand that he should be in control. He wasn’t good enough. Not yet. He wasn’t Shisui’s equal. He really was a pawn.
Why couldn’t he be good enough?
“We can’t let anyone know, especially not the Uchiha.” Shisui was repeating himself, but Itachi just sat and listened. “They’ll just want revenge for what Danzou did, and maybe Danzou’s head on a stick. That won’t help anyone. It won’t do us any good to kill them after that and try to hush-up they were planning revolt--everyone will know Konoha ordered the kill.” Shisui’s hands moved absently as he spoke, painting the ideas in air. Itachi watched, remembering shadow puppets in bomb shelters.
“I won’t tell anyone.” Itachi didn’t bother to mention this put them on a short timeline. They couldn’t hide this for long. A day, maybe a week if they were lucky? It wasn’t likely. Sooner or later someone would come to see Shisui, and then they would know. Itachi felt a soft brush of paranoia. Could they hide it at all? Would someone find out?
Madara. If someone was going to find out, it would be him.
“I have to go see him tonight.” Itachi finally looked at Shisui’s face. The eye patch made it uneven. Itachi wanted to tip his head to the side to make it come into better focus. He kept his head on straight and looked away instead.
Shisui’s face shuttered. “Tonight.”
Itachi nodded. “Tonight.”
“Maybe you should stay...”
“Eat your soup, Shisui. It won’t take long,” Itachi promised. He stood up slowly. “You said we shouldn’t let anyone know. I don’t want to give Madara a reason to look into anything, and I promised my father I’d be home for supper.”
“Is it that bad?” Shisui asked softly. Itachi paused in the act of grabbing his stashed weapons. Some might have been Shisui’s. Material objects passed between them fluidly. The only thing they couldn’t practically share were clothes, but that didn’t stop Itachi from stealing Shisui’s from time to time, guiltily stealing snatches of his cousin’s scent while Shisui was away on long missions. That hadn’t happened for a while. They’d been together for more than a year now.
“You said the plan was still the same. You said nothing had changed.” Itachi pulled on an oversized flak vest and then discarded it. He took off his headband and tossed it onto Shisui’s dresser. It hit a wooden box and skittered up against the mirror. Itachi saw himself as a vague, dark reflection in the murky glass. “It must not be so bad.”
“My face--Itachi, why won’t you look at my face?” Shisui asked. Again, this was the soft, lost tone that unnerved Itachi completely. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t make himself look again. His own head hurt at the thought. He could feel someone reaching into his skull and plucking his eye out. Itachi shivered.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” Itachi moved for the door.
“Itachi, stop--why won’t you--just stop and look at me.” Shisui’s voice had risen not in volume, but in pitch. Itachi heard Shisui shifting to rise to his feet.
“Itachi, stop.” This time, Itachi didn’t stop. Shisui’s words followed him out. He tugged on his shoes and hurried down the steps without thinking about it. It didn’t matter. It was the first time he’d ever walked away when Shisui was calling it. It was the first time he couldn’t take the sight of his cousin’s face.
---
“Shisui’s not feeling well. I’m going to stay with him for the night.” Itachi stood as stiffly as if he were reporting to his superiors. His parents were still sitting at the table, lingering over smoky conversation of what-ifs and future desecration. Itachi swallowed the sudden rise of bile in his throat. He hadn’t seen them in a while, and all he could think was he was going to kill them. He was going to kill the resentful, proud, plotting people to save a village.
It didn’t make him feel like a hero.
“What happened?” Mikoto asked. They had never been close. When she’d had Itachi, her child for her clan, she’d been too busy fighting to do more than make sure Itachi was handed off to someone else. He’d ended up with Shisui, who had spent years trying to keep Itachi alive and growing. Should he feel grateful for her abandonment? Or that she hadn’t drunk poison to shake him loose when she’d learned she’d conceived him?
“A mild poison. He was given the antitoxin, but will be sick for the night and maybe tomorrow.” Itachi didn’t twist his hands behind his back. He wondered if lying had ever been hard for him. He didn’t remember it being anything but easy. He was a liar. His parents would be proud.
“You are certain?” Fugaku’s voice was gruff. Of course he was concerned about Shisui. Itachi nodded, wondering if his father was more concerned for Shisui than he could ever be for Itachi. Itachi didn’t feel any resentment for this. He didn’t desire his father’s affection. They were not close, just as his mother wasn’t close to him. Itachi wasn’t sure he had met his father until he was four or older, and he only knew the man as his father in a biological sense-a clan sense.
“I am. My staying with Shisui is just a precaution.” Itachi shifted the bundle across his shoulders. “I have a mission tomorrow, so I won’t be home until late.”
“There’s a meeting tomorrow night. Don’t forget.” Fugaku’s stern gaze demanded no deviance. Compared to Madara’s calm, insidious suggestions, his father held no power. Itachi realized what Madara had given him in the months he’d been training him then. It wasn’t just forgotten techniques, but a state of mind that allowed Itachi to resist.
“I’ll be there, Chichi-ue.” Itachi bowed at his waist.
“NII-SAN!”
Itachi lifted his head and had time to catch Sasuke as the boy rocketed into him. The boy latched onto Itachi’s waist and turned a huge smile on Itachi. The doubts Madara had instilled in Itachi faded away. Sasuke was so young and innocent--how could he be anything like the rest of Itachi’s family? He’d never let hate rule him.
“Nii-san, Nii-san, can you play?” Sasuke asked, bouncing up and down on his toes. Someone had had too much dessert, it seemed.
“Sorry Sasuke, Shisui needs me.” Itachi slipped out of his brother’s hold and stepped back. He tapped Sasuke on the forehead. “Next time, okay?”
Sasuke heaved a huge sigh. “You always say that.” His pout was uncalculated. If times were any less drastic, Itachi would have stayed. He loved his brother. The fresh-faced innocence was a balm against the harsh world, and no one else seemed to have time for the little boy. Itachi hid his smile and gently pushed Sasuke away.
“Next time.”
Except, Itachi wasn’t sure they would have a next time.
“Okay, good night, Nii-san.” Sasuke sighed.
“Good night Sasuke.” Itachi bowed to his parents again. He swept one last look over Sasuke before he turned away. It made him less anxious about the massacre to know Sasuke would be spared. Sasuke was so young and innocent he didn’t deserve death for what the elders of his clan were planning. He deserved a chance to live free of them
….but would he be free of them? Itachi remembered Madara’s questions and shook them away. Sasuke was nothing like their parents. He was himself, and he would prove that he was different. Itachi now felt Shisui’s calm rationale step in. Sasuke would prove himself--or had yet to. It was always dangerous working with an untried agent--person, boy. Sasuke had never been subjected to war or seen the results of violence on those who loved first hand. Who was to say how he would act?
Itachi, because if he couldn’t trust his brother to carry out his role, he couldn’t justify keeping him alive. The thought almost choked Itachi. The one thing he and Shisui couldn’t agree on was Sasuke and how he should be handled. They’d bounced back and forth over whether Sasuke should be allowed to see the massacre or not. Shisui thought so, Itachi thought not. Shisui said that everything should be real. Sasuke shouldn’t be sheltered from any of the horror. He had to believe beyond a doubt that his previously loving brother would turn into a monster.
Can you be the demon, Itachi? Can you be the hated monster that makes your brother scream?
He could if it meant Sasuke would survive this madness. Itachi shook his head and found he was already halfway to the outside of the compound. He never had his guard up when he was in the compound. Why did he feel safe in this den of conspirators? He knew some doubted him. They’d asked Shisui to watch him months ago. Shisui had almost laughed himself sick about that. It wasn’t really funny, but they didn’t have much to laugh at these days. Itachi imagined what they would do to him if they knew what he was planning. They’d lock him up. Question him.
They’d take his eyes.
Itachi let his bangs fall into his face. He stepped around one of his distant cousins, giving her a nod before he froze and really looked at her. Her hair was brown instead of black, but her eyes were the placid dark grey of an Uchiha. She wasn’t fighting fit. Her arms were softly rounded, the swell of her breasts against her simple yukata suggested that it was actually a little too small. One hand rested on the grand swell of her stomach.
“Konbanwa, Itachi-kun.” ‘Kun’. He was always still ‘kun.’ She was smiling at him, and Itachi slowly plucked her name from the family tree.
“Mamimi-san.” Itachi inclined his head and bowed slightly. “It’s been a while.”
“You almost didn’t recognize me, didn’t you?” Mamimi’s eyes twinkled bright. She rubbed her stomach. “Mou, I’ve gained so much weight these last two months, but only one more to go.”
One more month. What would she do if she knew her child wouldn’t be born? Would she cry? Beg? Would she try to kill him to save her child? Itachi couldn’t take his eyes off the rounded bulge.
“He’s kicking. Do you want to feel him?” Mamimi asked. Itachi didn’t, but he found her positioning his hand on her stomach, pressing against the taught flesh beneath the layers of fabric. “Do you feel him?” Mamimi asked in a hushed, singing voice.
Itachi did. The soft motion made him jump, but Mamimi held his hand to her stomach. Her face was glowing with pride and excitement. Her eyes were alive and bright. Her child. Her baby. Itachi swallowed bile and his heart stopped as she looked him in the face.
“I want my baby to grow up free, Itachi-kun. I want him to be able to hold up his head high, because he’s an Uchiha, not have people spit on him because of it.” The rise and fall of her voice was almost hypnotic, as if she already held the baby in her arms and was trying to soothe it.
Do you want him to grow up in the middle of another war? Itachi wanted to shout it, but he just nodded. The child kicked hard against his hand, as if it was trying to escape the confines of his mother’s womb. He was just like the Uchiha, kicking and smothering in the confines of the compound. Maybe this was all a natural process. Maybe these were just the birthing pains of something new and glorious.
Itachi looked the mother to be in the eyes and smiled as if he understood everything she said. Her answering smile was parting enough, and Itachi walked down the street again. He now noticed people calling greetings to him. People watched him walk by with a certain wariness and pride. He was their genius--or was he really theirs? Would he see through their ambitions? Would he turn tail and run? Would be allow them to be born again in flame and blood and death?
Itachi shivered under the weight of the eyes on him and ducked into an alley. He tried to clear his mind. Madara would eat him alive if he arrived with his head in such a mess
---
“Must genjutsu go through the eyes?” Madara asked. He had Itachi’s wrists slammed into the rough bark of a great tree. Itachi was staring up at the branches. He would not make eye contact. He’d been stupid to let himself get trapped like this. It wasn’t a day to work on taijutsu. This was a day for genjutsu and lectures on the fine art of coercion.
“Yes.” Itachi didn’t know anymore. He should have stayed with Shisui. His cousin had needed him.
“You can’t transmit it through the skin?” Madara asked. His fingers pressed hot against Itachi’s wrists. “Through the ears?” Madara’s voice was a dry song, like the playing of a reed flute. Itachi felt his body shudder, going limp under the caress of something he didn’t understand. He sagged against the supporting hands.
“You are so easy when your guard is down, my pet. Tell me, what has happened to the center of your universe to set it so askew? Why does your mind fill with the throws of adolescent angst. It’s beneath you, this troubled feeling of humanity.”
Itachi felt the heat of Madara press him down. His smell was thick in the air, wrapping around Itachi like a fog. He felt his eyes try to fall shut. Genjutsu? Maybe. Yes. No. Couldn’t be.
Power?
Yes. Sheer force of power. Nothing was impossible when you had enough power.
Why wasn’t he strong enough to make the impossible possible?
“What has happened to your keeper?”
Everything was a lesson with Madara, with its own rewards and punishment. Itachi felt another shiver pass through him at Madara’s words. The heat of the man had soaked into Itachi. He felt fevered without the ache.
“What do you hide from me, my darling little cripple?”
Itachi was good enough to keep his thoughts away from Shisui. He focused instead on the jutsu Madara had put on him. He felt approval from the man, but the lesson wasn’t over.
“Which is a better for persuasion? Pleasure?” Madara’s calloused fingers ran up Itachi’s palms, the heat increased. Itachi felt his heart start to race, his mouth parted softly of its own accord. Now he began to struggle against the unwanted intrusion. Now it started to alarm him, and he began to slip under this thick film of deception. It tried to pull Shisui into his mind. Itachi tried to use the thought of his cousin to center himself and fight off the illusion. Shisui’s touch, Shisui’s voice, Shisui’s smile-all combined with the heavy heat roiling in Itachi’s body. Itachi bit the inside of his cheek.
“Or pain?”
Madara shoved senbon through Itachi’s palms into the tree, electricity running down them and through Itachi’s nerves. The heat turned into a burn that ravaged Itachi quickly, tore him apart, boiled his blood. Itachi felt his head hit the back of the tree, breaking the skin. He tasted blood in his mouth where he’d bitten through his tongue. Pressure points were suddenly overloaded with electricity as he hung from the thin metal needles. The pain lasted only moments, but it was enough to have tears running down his face. At least he hadn’t screamed.
“Better.” Madara removed the senbon, and Itachi sank to the ground. He cradled his hands next to his chest and his body shook all over from the remains of the jutsu. Pain. It could mean so many different things. Madara made it mean agony of so many different kinds.
“See how the both work? Don’t deny yourself a useful tool because of morals.” Madara crouched by Itachi, his deadly hands loose on his knees. There had to be a smile behind his mask. “Mix pleasure and pain, and you can make anyone your slave. Do you see?”
“I see.”
“Says the blind little rat.” Madara chuckled. “Now, which is better?”
Itachi closed his eyes. “Pleasure is fleeting and engenders affection, which is unpredictable. Pain creates a stronger memory in the victims mind, and engenders fear. With each incident they begin to hate and fear you more, and you also become more powerful in their eyes.”
“Or?” Madara was inches from touching him, and Itachi didn’t have the will to pull back. Madara would hurt him no matter what he did. Itachi wasn’t strong enough to protect himself from Madara yet. Not yet, but one day. One day he would be. He’d have enough power.
“Or, if you have two agents, allow one to administer pain and the other pleasure. The victim will feel closer to one agent and more likely to tell secrets, but you still have someone that they fear to keep them in line.” There were risks with every approach, though. Having the supposed support of one agent could make your victim rebellious. It could make them better able to resist the pain.
“Is hate a stronger coercive than love, my little cripple?”
Itachi opened his gritty eyes to look at the man. He looked at Madara’s throat, pale and surprisingly young. “Yes.”
“No, no, think. You will do nothing I ask without good reason, but you would do anything for your cousin.” Madara used that coaxing tone. Try as he might, Itachi couldn’t tell if the man was using a genjutsu or not. Maybe the man was just talking sense in his own twisted way.
“Shisui doesn’t manipulate me into anything.” It was more a protest than the fact Itachi wanted it to be.
“Ah, does he not? Are there not things he does that you don’t agree with? Don’t you give over to his opinions because you trust him to do what is best?” Madara again forestalled Itachi’s protest with a flick of his long hand. “Is this not manipulation at its most basic levels? I am not saying your cousin doesn’t care for you, oh, never that, but he does use you. He is the greatest threat to you, my cripple.”
“I’m not killing him.” Itachi made himself stand. “Not for power, not for freedom, not for anything.”
“Or anyone?” Madara asked. Itachi paused before he nodded. He flexed his aching hands and decided nothing was broken or torn. Madara meant to hurt, not cripple.
Madara smiled. “See? Love keeps the one man who could kill your cousin from killing him. It is a more powerful and devastating hold than any other.” Itachi looked at Madara and wondered if he should even try to explain love and how he felt for his cousin. The words would just be twisted back on him. They’d choke him if he kept it up long enough. He didn’t speak. Silence had always been a safe place for him to hide from those he couldn’t argue down.
“Enough. We’ll continue tomorrow. I’ll drag the secrets of your cousin from your rebellious tongue then.. We’ll practice the application of pleasure, since you don’t understand its full powers. The time draws near, doesn’t it?” Madara’s fingers were interlaced. Itachi wasn’t frightened. Madara could never induce him, by pain or ‘pleasure’ to betray his cousin’s confidence.
Such was the power of love. Itachi smiled bitterly.
“I don’t know.” Itachi swallowed the blood and bile in his mouth. “I can’t come tomorrow. I have a mission.”
Madara waved a hand. “Make time for me, my little cripple. I have much more to teach you before the day comes.” It was a promise and a threat, all wrapped up in his silky voice.
---
As Itachi ascended the steps to Shisui’s apartment, he felt only relief. No matter what awaited him inside, it was better than what he face outside. In Shisui’s apartment, he was safe. He could be himself and not worry about hiding anything. Itachi pushed his way inside, breathing out a sickness and guilt that had gathered around him.
Now, to deal with Shisui. Itachi had been steeling himself for this ever since he’d left Madara. His bandaged hands somehow gave him courage. He felt almost like a child running to its mother after being bullied. Maybe he just wanted to feel safe, but running to Shisui for comfort while his cousin was injured had to be selfish. It didn’t stop Itachi from doing it.
“Shisui.” Itachi toed off his shoes and let his pack slide into his hand. “Shisui?”
“Here.” Shisui’s voice came from the bathroom. Itachi glanced and made sure Shisui’s empty dishes were in the sink before he walked over to the bathroom. He dropped his bag by the couch as he passed it. Shisui leaned heavily on the counter. One side of his face was slightly swollen, but it was resolving quickly. Shisui stared at the gaping eye socket. Itachi looked at his slightly bloody fingers.
“You feeling okay? You look pale.” Shisui didn’t turn from the mirror. Itachi shook his head.
“Not really, but I’m all right.” Itachi moved and picked up the gauze pad and tape. “Cover it up before it gets infected, and stop poking at it.”
“It really does look that bad, doesn’t it?” Shisui asked, eyes still riveted on the mirror. “Hideous.”
“You always look hideous.” Itachi reached for Shisui’s face and grabbed his chin. He placed the gauze over the hole in Shisui’s face, gingerly taping it down. “You should be sleeping.”
“I tried, but I kept thinking I was going to roll over on my eye…” Shisui shrugged. He reached for the gauze pad, absently. Itachi grabbed Shisui’s hand and flicked on the faucet. He shoved Shisui’s hand under the water and started scrubbing at the blood. It flaked off easily, but some was stuck under his fingernails. It wasn’t much, as Shisui chewed his fingernails-a bad habit. Itachi turned off the water and started drying off Shisui’s hand. He couldn’t blame Shisui for how he was acting now. It was the drugs. The pain. The trauma from losing his eye.
Shisui gently hooked his fingers in Itachi’s and turned Itachi’s palm up. The bandages around Itachi’s hands were still a little bloody. “More training?”
“You’ve broken my nose training me, don’t fuss.” Itachi folded his hand over Shisui’s and pulled him towards the bedroom. “Come on, I have an idea.” Shisui, with the utmost care, let his hand curl around Itachi’s, fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around Itachi’s hand. Itachi pulled his hand away only as they entered and walked across the room. He grabbed a large pillow-the kind from Ame Shisui liked to sprawl on or sleep with when Itachi wasn’t around--from against the wall.
"Here." Itachi settled himself on Shisui’s futon in the lotus position and set the pillow in his lap. Shisui gave his cousin a raised eyebrow look.
"Rethinking your leanings?" Shisui asked, but he crawled onto the futon.
"I can keep your head from turning while you sleep, idiot," Itachi settled his back against the wall. Shisui didn't protest. He didn't snipe. He didn't tease. He just slowly, like an old man, lowered himself onto his back and placed his head on the pillow. His face....
Itachi set his hand on either side of Shisui's neck, forearms stabilizing his cousin’s battered head. Shisui sighed, the air leaking out of him, deflating his chest as he closed his eye. Itachi could see the pain etched into the set of Shisui's mouth, and the line between his eyebrows.
"I'll have it figured out by morning, Itachi. You just focus on your mission."
"Just sleep. We'll worry about it later." Later. Now, it would eat at them, drag them down into nightmares and shifting dreams. Itachi pulled his hands up to carefully smoothed Shisui's hair back from his face.
"Later." Shisui's little scoff was skepticism embodied. Itachi shook his head. Shisui's bushy hair curled around his fingers. The matted blood was gone from it, and it smelled like Shisui again. Clean comfort that made Itachi want to just let go and stop worrying. Shisui would make it all right-but it wasn’t fair to think that way anymore. Itachi had to help. He would help. They’d make this right together.
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow never comes."
"When you wake up."
"And if I never wake up?”
Itachi let his silence last for a heartbeat too long-not that his heart was beating after those words. The sudden tightness in his throat made him think he couldn’t speak for a moment. Then he shook it off. Shisui was teasing despite the serious cast of his features as he looked up through the dark at Itachi.
"Shisui." Itachi leaned his forehead against Shisui's. "Go. To. Sleep. Or I will strangle you and you will never wake up in the morning."
"I love it when you sweet talk me," Shisui smiled, breathing out slowly.
"Mm," Itachi rubbed his fingertips against Shisui's scalp.
“Do your hands hurt? Where he stabbed you?” Shisui asked.
“No. Nothing hurts me. You can’t hurt the shadows.” Itachi let the soft, musical tone of Madara’s voice sink into his own. “Go to sleep, Shisui. Sleep.” Shisui’s eye opened. He gave Itachi a sardonic look and then closed his eye again.
It was a long time before the old trick of warm fingers rubbing his scalp had Shisui's body relaxing and his breath evening off into sleep. Itachi let his hands slide down to rest against Shisui's neck. He could feel the man's steady pulse. The drugs had slowed it, but it was strong. Itachi counted it in his head once. Twice. Thrice. Again and again until he'd assured himself Shisui's pulse would last the night. Then he allowed himself to fall asleep, waking every hour for another count.
---
Itachi didn't know if he wished his mission of guarding the councilman had been more challenging or if he was glad it hadn't. He'd had plenty of time to consider Shisui, to wonder how he felt, what he had decided, what they could do about this new turn of events. Shisui had groggily promised in the morning that he'd have the last of the details worked out by the time Itachi came home. They couldn't deny that there would be changes. Itachi didn't think the changes would be that big, but he already knew one of them. Missing an eye, Shisui wouldn't be able to help him with the massacre. It would take too long for him to get used to the lost eye, and Itachi wouldn’t risk Shisui’s life in a night fight while he was handicapped that way. Everything need to be perfect, and Shisui wouldn’t be.
Itachi would have to enlist Madara, which would please the man. The only problem was Itachi had no real control over Madara. At the moment, while Itachi would be a challenge for the man, he didn't think he could beat him. Shisui probably could, and together there was no doubt they could overpower the man. There was the question of whether they could do it know.
The mission ended early. Itachi was thanked gravely for standing around and being imposing even though he was barely over five feet now. It wasn't even noon as Itachi climbed back into Shisui's apartment through the window. Itachi stepped down slowly, easing his presence in. He slipped off his ANBU armor as he walked in, looking for his cousin.
"Shisui?" Itachi pulled off his boots and set them by the door. He received no answer and hoped Shisui was sleeping again. He needed his sleep to recover, but if he was in the bathroom, poking at his eye again...
Itachi shook his head and went to peer into the bathroom. Shisui wasn't there. Itachi checked the bedroom next and found Shisui sitting, head carefully in his hands. There were notes spread all over the floor. Shisui had pinned some to the wall. Scrawl covered one white washed wall, things angrily crossed out, some obliterated entirely. Shisui had been doing some serious planning of the chaotic kind, but it looked like it had wound down into something more controlled by the end.
Something desperate and frantic too.
"This is it, Itachi, the best plan. The simplest, the most likely not to get completely screwed up ten seconds after we put it into motion." Shisui smiled, barebones and empty excitement. Itachi didn't know if he was worried or if he should feed off of Shisui's excitement. He knew the high that came from planning and finally seizing upon the ultimate solution.
"So what is it?" Itachi knelt down across from Shisui.
"See, we'll use my Mangekyou as a contingency, in case Sasuke--I mean, well, any of the kids-doesn’t perform as suspecting with a command to protect Konoha. We can also get rid of the threat of my eyes, because you know no one’s going to just let a missing-nin walk around with eyes like mine. You'll also have to get Madara to help you with the actual massacre, so it all goes off smoothly." Shisui's hands twitched and moved as he spoke.
"That’s it?" Itachi pressed. The fragmented details didn't seem so different from what they'd planned, but Itachi could see Shisui was holding the pivotal piece of information back. “That doesn’t seem so different.”
“There’s one thing very different,” Shisui admitted. His hands stilled, and some of the manic energy seemed to drain out of him.
“What?” Itachi tried not to look as nervous as he felt.
"You have to kill me." Shisui smiled (as if it was no big deal), but he was utterly serious. Itachi gave Shisui a few moments to say it was a lie, that he was kidding, or explain how they would fake Shisui’s death.
Then he punched Shisui.