I just sort of picked this up today from my unfinished pile and by reading it, I felt inspired to finish. I tried to imagine a more in-depth portrayal of the Seven Swordsmen of Mist because, let's face it, I doubt we'll ever see their real history. This is not at all how I anticipated it to be but it deserves a spot online, nonetheless. Enjoy?
Disclaimer: Nothing.
-=Prideful=-
Just fucking great, Kisame spat bitterly, this just had to happen…
It was that time, again.
Don't ask any questions, Itachi, Kisame told his partner, but the request was promptly ignored.
I'm coming with you, Itachi stated firmly. Even though he knew that, this was none of his business.
There was an open field, just ahead, clearly visible, and yet safely distant. They stopped. Kisame crouched down behind Itachi and grasped the younger's shoulder firmly within his larger palms. He whispered dangerously into his ear, a raspy, forceful hiss.
''Do not let him see your eyes. You are to remain unknown.''
Itachi dove first from the cliff and onto the playing field. His opponent was just as curt and prompt. He wore a mask, the ANBU faceplate that he too had once adorned in the past.
He tilted his large sun-hat forward and hid behind the tassels and charms dangling rhythmically before him. They swayed as his body jerked to the left, charged, and threw the initiating set of weaponry at this mysterious ninja. Every single piece was accurately dodged or deflected and so Itachi disappeared behind the symbols of his fast digits. He hated fighting like this, offensively, when his eyes burned in his skull, urging him to succumb to the power of their swirl. His body reappeared, a clone, while he waited a distance, setting up his illusion.
There was a sudden cold stream creeping into the warm breeze of the mid-afternoon. The ANBU stood perfectly still as layers of ice formed around his stance. Only then did Itachi notice how small the child was. With multiple reflections staring back at him, he glared a light, menacing shade of red and disappeared into the shadows of the sun. The ANBU child dove into the icy mirrors, leaving nothing behind but a frosty chill.
Their partners watched on, smiling.
Itachi sent a clone first to test his subject. Hundreds of needles riddled the fake corpse. The shade ran through the mirrors, faster than his eyes could follow. It annoyed him, as the constraining promise he vowed to keep strangled the growl in his throat. His clone attempted a second attack, unable to even crack the thick ice surrounding their playing field.
This child, he realized, descended from a bloodline. He mastered his attack and took up the mask that he himself donned in his youth. Without the ability to burn through the ice – no fire would suffice against the icy blood of his opponent; Itachi concentrated his energy into an illusion that encompassed the ice. He sent a clone into each mirror, which, without his magic, would not have been feasible. The ANBU exited his puzzle and upon touching the illusionary surface, his legs were ensnared. The boy was real; he had not attempted a clone. His skills were still limited. Itachi appeared and smiled at his prey. He looked so much like his brother Sasuke, beneath the porcelain mask. There was no point in killing the child – the real adversary had appeared. Itachi did not even glance at the sword slicing the air for his neck. Kisame arrived before him and his blade countered the attack to his back. The Uchiha crouched between the men and disappeared with the child into his illusion. The battlefield belonged to them now.
Zabuza furiously lunged at Kisame, who smiled, in return. He assumed that Zabuza was grinning a similar razor sharp smile beneath the bandages.
"I heard that you traveled with a child, killer – was your sword no longer sharp enough to cut away your enemies?"
"Go to Hell, Kisame. I know who your teenage brat is. All Uchihas are disgusting. I'm not surprised by your choice."
Itachi glared at a distance, through red, recording eyes.
"Do you think I'm stupid enough to fight you now, with that copy-cat, watching my exact moves?"
"If you want my number, you'll have to. The time ends soon."
Their moves were impressive. Itachi had never before seen two mist swordsmen clash blades. He understood that they vowed never to cross blades, within such an organization. There was much Kisame kept hidden beneath the surfaces of his watery depth. That very same natural force surged forward through and their water dragons funneled and dissolved into a giant tidal wave. He assumed that their actions were a formality. The child obviously knew more than he. Haku fled from Itachi but remained close enough to witness the brawl.
Every incanted jutsu he copied and stored within the swirls of his eyes. The mysteries of the water were clearer now. They used the water of their own bodies as a catalyst and drew the rest from the earth on which they tread. Their energy seemed limitless. The fighters barely panted, despite slicing each other open with their swords. There was hesitance; he could sense it. His eyes reverted to a darker shade. The boy retreated and Itachi knew that his presence was no longer welcome upon the battlefield either. He returned to their camp, without witnessing the finale.
After two days of silence, Kisame arrived wordlessly. Itachi glared. He burned Kisame's dinner and the other retired almost immediately after the meal. It would be another few days minimum before Kisame would be ready to travel. Itachi said nothing of the swordsman's injuries. Kisame's left shoulder, exposed, was hastily stitched together and coated by a thick numbing salve. His bruises were black and enormous down his arms and legs. There was no telling how much blood he left on the battlefield, or dripped from his wounds as he staggered back to camp, but no one pursued him. Itachi peered into the cave and observed Kisame momentarily; he heard ragged breathing and coughing, indicative of a perforated lung. How Kisame survived and indulged in such brutality was disgusting, in and of itself.
The mist ninja awoke to the scent of healing herbs and fish. He half grinned to himself and groaned from the struggle of his chortle. He was alive, barely. Itachi could easily have murdered him in his sleep and yet the Uchiha continued to prepare his meals and treat his injuries. He murmured his gratitude to his counterpart but Itachi craved information and not gratefulness. The vivid battle, or at least, its beginning, repeated itself viciously behind his bloody eyes.
"Tell me everything" he demanded insolently.
His curt and abrupt tone caused Kisame to laugh anew. Itachi's straightforward attitude disguised by his monotonous appearance always delighted Kisame.
"Impatient, aren't we? I've barely been conscious for a day and…" he trailed off, aware that his banter was pointless.
Itachi sat beside his partner and waited for his response. Although he regretted his decision to leave the battlefield, the information he gained would be just as valuable.
"The seven swordsmen of the Mist compete amongst themselves for a superior ranking. However, we are only permitted to battle during a designated time period. We are meant to co-exist and respect one another but the struggled for power is always present. This display of brutality only occurs once every seven years. If a member is killed by another outside of this allotted time frame, we kill them. Simply put."
"The strongest number, Uchiha Itachi, is seven, and not one. Momochi, Zabuza remains in the fifth slot after his defeat."
Itachi glanced to Kisame and his question was clear, "What is your number, Kisame?"
Kisame, through his jagged smile, said, "I am number seven, Itachi, and have never been defeated."
A surge of pride swelled in Itachi's chest for Kisame and their alliance. He, as a child, surpassed all expectations and became the prodigy ninja of his clan. Kisame was no different. Their partnership was befitting. Only the strongest survive.
Itachi smiled as well.
-=EndE=-
Even bad guys smile too, okay? Itachi isn't bad anyway, only…misunderstood. N'es-ce pas? Like I said, not how I had envisioned this story originally, but I am content with the result, regardless.