Disclaimer: I do not own 'Naruto'
Summary: Hoshigaki Kisame, Uchiha Itachi: the first forty nine days of partnership.
Warnings: Kisame's language and my grammar. (You'll have to excuse me; not a native speaker. So if you happen to run across something funny and think what a stupid kid I am, you're probably right).
Let the Waters Flow
Chapter One
3
The morning was windy, rainy and cold, just perfect for his tastes. It was always like this in Pein's godforsaken little country, the fact despised by Kisame's comrades (surely not by the brightest ones), and grately cherished by Kisame himself. As a pleasant bonus served the knowledge of those around him to be constantly uncomfortable.
It also was the exact same reason why the two of them were currently traveling north. Kisame was the boss, and he did not have any intent to boil in the Land of Rivers' sultry waters for a bloody month or worse, come anywhere near the deserted Wind.
The chosen route was hardly up for negotiation, but Kisame quickly figured out it wasn't worth that much trouble, for his silent companion had taken it mutely anyway, not rising any objection whatsoever, and Kisame couldn't dream of anything better. That, along with the northern wind and the fact that he had had enough luck not to run into neither Zonbi Conbi nor Orochimaru during the brief summon to the headquarters should have risen his mood considerably.
Instead, Kisame was seething.
The day before yesterday had him not far from one of the Waterfall's cozy little villages, fishing and minding his own business. He had been idling around for some time already, having been sent by the leader on the ridiculous vacation trip of undefined terming and very much defined origins.
It wasn't even his fault his partner had given up the ghost. He had paid Kisame's warning not to split up no heed and got what was coming. Apparently, their flashy crew was getting popular nowadays, for hunters had taken a special liking to show up wherever they went to with stubbornly increasing frequency. Which would be just fine with Kisame if only he didn't have to watch the imbecilic partner's back besides his own. No wonder Kakuzu was finishing them off more often than Kisame was rewrapping his Samehada.
Pein would not even hear of them working alone, the ludicrous fancy that had caused all sorts of disaster in the past. Kisame knew it would hardly get better any time soon, and he was right.
Personally, he would like nothing more than to work alone. His innate rough and ruthless attitude that could have caused him some trouble was perfectly compensated with the sheer, raw power that was always getting him out of the most helpless situations, sparse in itself as they were.
Privately, Kisame thought his Samehada was more than an adequate and efficient partner, but he could do little against the Pein's direct order.
Which led to his current unfortunate predicament. He knew enough not to expect anything pleasant from the sudden, abrupt summon yesterday morning. But what he saw upon arrival had somehow managed to surprise him nevertheless.
For instead of a reckless, impulsive, but blessedly dead moron Kisame now got himself a thoroughly demented juvenile sociopath.
He squeezed the wet, slippery handle of Samehada, casting gloomy glances onto the bleach, depressing scenery. He might as well confess to himself that the place was making him just as uncomfortable, though in a somewhat different way. The prolonged exposure to its claustrophobic, suffocating nature was already grating on his nerves. What a poor time for a bloody holiday, successfully isolating Kisame from anything and anyone capable of easing the strain, for he presumably might be allowed some feeble spar fights with the new partner, but was quite certainly not allowed to kill him.
Or, that was the general idea. He cringed as he recalled Pein's uncalculable reasoning. Cooperation and mutual trust as the main principles of successful partnership, as well as the means of preventing situations not unlike the latest one from occurring in the near future. All very well for a theoretical aspect, worse as a practical and unarchivable one. He and Goto were not the greatest confidentials, but they had some flimsy means of acquiring that, however temporary the effect might be. Mainly, the boozing. Malfunctioning techniques concerning thirteen year old things.
Hidan would laugh his immortal arse to death if he knew. When he knew. Kisame's grip on the cold handle tightened, Samehada purring softly in reply. She felt his unsteady chakra floating around in angry waves and was perhaps quite delighted. It eased his sour mood up.
He wondered lazily if the boy had any sensory ability and was able to feel Kisame's utter irritation with the situation they both had found themselves in. He didn't seem so, and if he did he certainly didn't show it. Of course Kisame was aware of those crazy eyes of theirs, the boy probably would have no use of being a sensor anyway.
But the eyes were currently black and unfocused, as was his whole demeanor seemingly dormant and completely uninterested neither in his surroundings nor in destination.
A few silent hours had passed before they left the cold rain of Ame behind, and now the route lay simply and unvariably north. They traveled by foot, there was no need to burn the chakra down. They were not hurrying anywhere.
Ame's border with the Grass, as well as the rest of the countries, was always packed to the brim with hunters of any affinity desirable. But now, to Kisame's dismay, they seemed to find some other ways to occupy themselves. It did nothing to brighten the day, with the Pein's orders of causing no trouble when it hardly counted as a trouble at all.
For them to reach the coast would take another three or four days, though. At this turtle-like pace they would have plenty of chances to attract trouble without being the cause of it themselves.
They were currently dressed in plain civilian clothes, an effort laudable but hopelessly unprofitable. If Samehada's heavy, imposing presence wasn't enough, Kisame's own distinguish looks effectively rendered the idea useless. But of course the leader's orders were not for Kisame's sake.
The little shrimp turned out to be quite notorious, contrary to what the first brief glance had told Kisame yesterday. Or at least what it was telling him until he got a good look at the child's dark clothing.
He glanced over his shoulder and over Samehada at the silent figure walking to his left, not bothering to conceal his attention. Sometime between yesterday's evening when Kisame saw him first and the early morning of today the kid had somehow managed to procure clean clothes, though rather poorly fitting ones.
Over the dark grey sweater and equally dark trousers that were folded neatly at the bottom far too many a time, there was a large, baggy coat of unidentifiable colouring, for it was now thoroughly wet. The heavy material, weighed down by the rain water, was flopping gracelessly with the child's every step, making his general appearance resemble that of a drowned baby rat. The tangled hair that clung wetly to the skin and curtained the face was finishing the looks.
He still wore the sandals from yesterday, though. Couldn't find the size, probably. There weren't many child sized boots at a very lair of organized criminality.
The stains were no longer an issue, rain and mud of Ame's had long since taken care of the previous crimson hue.
The Grass climate distinctly differed from that of the Rain's. The country's typical weather was conditioned by a number of various factors, its geographical location important but not the chief one. Mainly, it was a type of natural energy such a position led to.
That's why it wasn't even half an hour after they left the chilly rain of Ame behind when the air grew gradually warmer and easier to breathe. Not a bad change, but Kisame preferred much colder climate. Samehada wasn't that impressed too. She liked the rain filled with rich currents of Pein's chakra, and was always moody every time they had to leave the country. But now, though not overjoyed, she behaved with suspicious compliance.
The weather continued to grow steadily warmer, and Kisame took his own drenched coat off his shoulders. The two of them were now making their way through the vast, green fields, any indication of civilization nowhere to be seen. However, he knew this lands as the back of his hand after years of rummaging around as a nukenin, and he would bet Uchiha knew too; they were to reach one of the Grass' small villages that littered the area in about four hours, enough to make it before sunset.
Ideally, they were supposed to stay as far away from populated areas as possible, but he wasn't sleeping in a bloody forest more than he absolutely had to. Even a decent forest was hard to come across in this wasteland.
He decided to inform Uchiha about sleeping arrangements beforehand, for reasons unknown, for all it got him was already well acquainted silence.
It wasn't bothering him as much as it should to. Come to think of it, the strange manner was even welcomed. Were he to choose between a chatterbox and a mass murderer, he would pick Uchiha, no doubt. In some degree he was even lucky, for there were plenty of chattering mass murderers wandering around.
Although he would prefer a chattering mass murderer over a psychopath.
That was the reason he repulsed this whole arrangement so much. It wasn't even the tender age, though it was hardly the last thing on the list. He was against the idea of working with a little psycho. There was a fair share of them among their numbers, and he wasn't stupid enough to harbour any illusions about himself either. But they were all adults, and one could always manage to find some constancy in the sheer unpredictability of their erratic behavior, given the right motivation.
It suddenly came to him that this might be the reason for Pein's insistence about them working in pairs. One would act like a buffer to another's madness.
How considerate.
Hours passed, filled with the soft sounds of wind shifting through the thick, wild grass that was scattered around endless fields and meadows, resembling longingly gentle, green waves of the sea. Not a single road or footpath in sight. A lonely crow was drifting silently through the gradually darkening sky some distance ahead of them.
They reached the village shortly before sunset. The wind had picked up towards the evening, billowing stubbornly the heavy material of Uchiha's oversized coat and his long, by now hopelessly tangled hair. The two of them stopped briefly at the top of the hill to survey the settlement snuggled between the mountains below. Kisame doubted they would encounter any trouble here, it seemed like the last news to reach this statuesque place must have been well before the deluge. It seemed Uchiha was thinking along the same lines, for he had made no move to cover his face as they slowly descended the grassy hill towards the valley below.
There was no electricity here. The main and only street was blanketed in soft half-lights of the oncoming evening. There was not a man in sight, and as Kisame caught sight of an inn, the only place that seemed too bear some semblance of life here, he found his answer. It turned out the first floor was functioning as a grubby, ragged tavern, displaying the raggle-taggle contingent of a countryside. A thought flickered briefly through Kisame's mind -that they might have better stopped at one of the Grass' bigger cities- just as every single head turned in their direction.
He suddenly reconsidered his opinion on the village's knowledge capacity. It was a good possibility that the huntres have already been here, feeding the tales of a red-eyed demon to the locals. He didn't give a damn about the hunters, he welcomed the unfortunate souls that were so persistent in chasing him around with arms wide open. He would easily deal with them. But he had the bloody orders from Pein and the other one, and surely those bastards' disappearance would draw some attention to their vacationing. They would have his head if something happened with the shrimp.
Kisame lingered at the threshold for a brief moment, plagued by sulky thoughts. Uchiha, however, didn't seem to be burdened with any such ideas. He didn't hesitate and simply strode forward, his damn face open for everyone to see.
Kisame grunted inwardly and went after him, glaring down the most boorish looks of inebriated patrons. As Uchiha seemed to have self-preservation skills close to the levels of nonexistence, he figured he would have to act as a distraction from now on, if he wanted this whole ridiculous arrangement to somehow work out. Just like an illusionist's hand that was making all sorts of flashy gestures to draw the audience's attention away from all the hidden machinations. Maybe Kisame would not even need to do anything. His appearance alone would work just fine.
Nevertheless, he quickly strode forward to get ahead of the stupid kid and towards the counter before Uchiha could open his mouth. The large wooden stand housed behind various bottles of cheep liquor along with a frowning bartender. Kisame nonchalantly ordered a room for one night and some dinner, as they had not made a single stop today. The bartender squinted first at him, then at the short, silent form standing solemnly beside Kisame and surveying the dimly lighted room with impassive gaze. The man then huffed quietly and slammed a little, ancient looking key at the counter without uttering a word. Kisame flashed him a toothy grin for good measure and turned towards the stairs.
The room's interior was more than humble, but was compensated with a view of a small lake that took its residence some distance away from the village and was perfectly observable through the ceiling-high windows. Uchiha's eyes lingered on it for a few seconds, before he turned around and disappeared into the bathroom.
Kisame took his time unwrapping Samegada and cleaning all the grime and dirt of the journey, then went down the first floor to collect their meal. As he entered the room he could still hear faint sounds of water splashing behind the bathroom's thin sliding door. He remembered Pein saying something about the shrimp been an heir of his unfortunate clan. The little prince was probably already horrified by the unglorified life of a missing-nin.
Kisame smirked, intended on making sure to drag the kid through every filthy hellhole that would happen on their way.
It was at least half an hour later that Uchiha finally emerged from the bathroom. Kisame had already finished his dinner and now sat against the wall, Samehada to his right, watching the kid fumble with his futon. He had left the place near the window for him, reasoning it would be better that he himself sleep between the shrimp and the door. Well, at least it was a reasoning of a pragmatic, noble, tiny part of his mind. The rest of it craved to at last draw some kind of reaction from the weird creature, for surely even the most perpetual patience had its uncharted limits.
Kisame would surely be insulted by such degrading a treatment. But either the child did not recognize the pin, or he simply didn't give a damn. Or, Kisame thought grimly, he was expecting such a behavior in the first place. Spoiled little brat. Kisame suspected the latter, watching as the kid now calmly proceeded with combing his dump, impractically long hair. Kisame had no desire to wonder exactly where at the base he had managed to acquire that brush.
He only hoped it wasn't Orochimaru's.