Teardrop
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of the characters in the manga/anime series.
Note: While not intended to be Itachi/Kisame, you could veiw it that way if you want. Also, this is a ONE SHOT, meaning it won't be continued.
Hoshigaki Kisame was dead. Killed by none other than Orochimaru. The Akatsuki had gone to kill their former member, and they had managed to do so. However, it was no easy task. Deidara had joined her Sasori-danna in the afterlife, she was at peace. Kisame, however, had nothing in life. Nothing was waiting for him in the afterlife, and he died saving Uchiha Itachi. Itachi simply went back to the Leader to report that the mission was successful.
That was almost three hours ago. Itachi was now staring at his ceiling, thinking. He was not thinking about his new partner, some wanna-be missing-ninja who thought he was hot stuff. Tobi, Itachi thought his name was. Itachi didn't really care about that. He didn't care about his family either. He had killed them, just to test his strength. The only emotion he had felt was satisfaction, and it was a smal satisfaction.
Itachi had become satisfied that day because he knew then he was the strongest of the Uchiha. He felt no remorse, he did not miss the family that had never given him love. And even if they had given him love, he would have killed them anyway. He just might not have been as strong as he had been, that was the only difference.
And like his family, his partner, who had been his companion for years, was dead. And yet, Itachi felt nothing. Kisame was dead. Itachi looked around his room. It was his now. Kisame was dead, he had no one to share it with. Not that he needed company, no, but scattered around the room was Kisame.
Kisame's bed. Kisame's radio. Kisame's closet, which had odd clothes for strange occasions only Kisame had known of, hidden among his many black cloaks. The Sameheda had been destroyed, when Kisame was cremated. Itachi had not gone to the cremation, because he had not cared. Why should he waste his time at a cremation if he did not care about the one being cremated?
Itachi knew he would never see Kisame again. So what? It did not matter, and right then, Itachi yawned. He had been up for three days and had used the Tsukuyomi four times with little rest. Kisame's death did not matter to him, what did, was sleep. With that thought in mind, Itachi laid down on the nearest bed and went to sleep. It was Kisame's bed.
Itachi woke up nine hours later and immediately went into the shower. After he stepped out, he noticed the lack of one of the few smells Itachi liked. Why wasn't Kisame making his famous pancakes? Frowning, Itachi walked out of the bathroom; fully dressed in Akatsuki cloak, though it wasn't buttoned, and glared at the kitchen door. Kisame didn't like to be disturbed when he cooked. Itachi knocked lightly.
"Kisame? Are you even in there?" Itachi waited exactly fifty nine seconds, and then, he opened the door. The kitchen looked untouched, as if it hadn't been touched in days. Itachi frowned once more. "Kisame?"
Itachi waited. This had happened before. Any moment now, Kisame would walk in and say: "Itachi-san, we've got a mission. Let's go." And Itachi would settle for dango for breakfast those times. However, Itachi had been standing there, slightly damp from the shower, for five minutes and Kisame had not come into the room.
Itachi walked into the bedroom, which was both his and Kisame's. And then, as he looked at the Mist hitai-ate with a slash through it, that had probably been left on Itachi's bed sometime in the night, Itachi remembered. He didn't wait to think about why he didn't remember, because he was too overtaken with something he had no idea how to conquer.
He felt hollow and empty. He always felt that way, but this was different. He felt like he was… Missing something, something vital. Like a child who had been kidnapped, and wanted more than anything to hear their mother's voice. But Itachi had never felt anything except the satisfaction of a job well done.
After picking up the hitai-ate, Itachi sat. He sat on the floor and tried to convince himself he didn't care. Yet the two small drops on the hitai-ate said otherwise. They said that the infamous Itachi did care. Though those two drops were alone, and no more followed, those two lone tears proved many things.
And then one of the teardrops went down and down, and it dripped off the hitai-ate, making a miniature, nearly unseen splash on the hardwood floor. And it left the other teardrop alone.
End