Note: This was written back in June for KalliopeStarmist's birthday. Naruto isn't mine, etc. etc.
Façade
i
"What is the difference between wearing a mask and becoming it?" are the first words out of his new partner's mouth. The young man speaks solemnly, almost deliberately, and though he acts as if the question doesn't mean a thing to him, it is obvious already that nothing he ever says will be as important.
Staring uncertainly at the Uchiha, Kisame has no answer.
ii
He stands in the centre of a sea of crushed flowers, nightmare eyes focused on a reality only he can see. His arms hang limply at his sides, pale fingers brushing lightly against the material of his dark cloak. Hidden within its folds, he seems fragile, painfully small, almost insubstantial, as if the gentlest gust of wind could blow away any trace of his existence.
Heaving Samehada over his shoulder, Kisame watches his partner for a long moment, wondering where reality ends and illusion begins. This is their first mission together, and Kisame is suddenly certain that it will be their last. It is not uncommon for fresh recruits to collapse, underestimating the horror of the missions they will be asked to undertake. Still, Kisame is surprised; given the history of his new partner, he would have expected someone more imperturbable.
His eyes drift away from the Uchiha. The field is still rank with the scent of blood, but their enemies have long since fled, driven off by the horrors Itachi inflicted upon them. Kisame is somewhat disappointed; he has been anticipating a good bloodbath for several weeks now, and the few kills he made before his partner became involved do little to satiate that hunger.
"Enough."
The voice is like ice, and Kisame turns in time to see his new partner coming towards him, no trace of emotion on his face, his stance as confident and controlled as any Kisame has ever seen. No hint of vulnerability remains, and he can almost believe that the broken child he saw for a moment was nothing more than a trick of the light.
iii
Almost, but not quite. Never quite. He knows Itachi as well as anybody can, and senses that something lies hidden beneath the man's carefully constructed personality.
As far as he can tell, the others do not recognize it. They look at Itachi and see only what they wish to see: the mystery he drapes around himself like a second cloak, so befitting an Akatsuki member. The silence that speaks more than words ever could. The power of the Uchiha Clan, unleashed and at their disposal…
They do not notice that he has not yet seen the need to actually kill.
Kisame has seen the countless faces his partner presents to each of the other members. He cannot tell which one is genuine, and is beginning to doubt that any of them are at all. He doesn't understand it – a good, strong sword beats out fancy illusions and a misplaced sense of mystery any day – but sees no point in being overly disturbed by it. Itachi is a genjutsu specialist, after all, and that breed tends to be eccentric by nature. In any case, trying to figure out what's off about his reticent partner is often of a welcome distraction.
Itachi is his partner, and if the man eventually snaps entirely, he knows who's going to have to live with the outcome. And so he watches carefully, hoping that when the other's composure finally breaks, he will have the knowledge and power to put him back together… or destroy him completely.
iv
"If you're trying to rip off the skin, there are easier ways to do it," Kisame suggests calmly, his attention divided between his (neurotic) partner and their surroundings. He does not doubt that enemy ninja will soon be upon them. The battle earlier was far from pretty, and by now any survivors could easily be returning with reinforcements.
Itachi makes no reply; he stares into the stream beside which he is kneeling, as if he can still see the blood that washed away almost half an hour ago. He is holding his hands beneath the water, and Kisame wonders if he can even feel them anymore.
"I understand your obsession with cleanliness, Itachi, but this is becoming dangerous," he comments, most likely to himself, making light of a situation he knows to be far more complex.
Today, Itachi made his first kill as a member of Akatsuki. Considering his reaction, if such could not possibly be true, Kisame would have thought it his first kill ever. The first victim had been no more than a child, a pawn an enemy flung between himself and Itachi. The Uchiha had been unable to stop his attack in time (Kisame still can't understand why he bothered to try), and left the battle drenched in blood.
Today, Itachi wore a mask Kisame has never before seen: rage.
"It never comes out," Itachi says hollowly, coming to his feet. His eyes are trained on hands that are paler than snow in Kumogakure.
Kisame shrugs noncommittally, "They look clean enough to me."
v
Itachi plays the monster well.
He is as cold as any veteran from Mist as he torments his victims to the brink of insanity. He displays no pleasure while doing so, but his utter lack of compassion proves even more chilling. Kisame wonders when the child desperately washing the blood off of his hands vanished.
He does not have the courage to ask: even he is not immune to Itachi's fury.
vi
Kisame sits at the edge of his bed, silently watching his sleeping teammate.
He finds it mildly ironic that someone who delivers nightmares by day could be so plagued by them at night. Itachi is trembling slightly, clutching at the blankets as desperately as any child. He is not speaking, and for this Kisame is glad – he does not wish to know what secrets could drive such a monster to tears.
Kisame doesn't care, not really – but he knows that he is unlikely to get any sleep at this rate. As quietly as he can manage, he stands and makes his way over to the other bed. He reaches out and shakes his partner awake, hoping that Itachi does not see the need to try to rip his arm for this.
Red eyes fly open, and Itachi stares blindly through him.
"Are you all right?" Kisame finally asks, and his partner's eyes finally focus on him. Itachi does not reply verbally, but the way he is still shaking speaks for itself. Kisame is not sure how to handle this, but finds that he suddenly does not have the heart to walk away. Instead, he sits down beside the Uchiha and awkwardly rests a hand on the man's – child, really – shoulder, half expecting to be pushed away.
When instead Itachi finally pulls him closer, he almost doesn't know how to respond.
vii
The meeting is over, and the various Akatsuki members quickly begin to depart.
Itachi's eyes linger on Tobi for a moment too long, and Kisame begins to become impatient. "Itachi," he finally ventures, somewhat hesitantly. The Uchiha can be as unpredictable as any wild creature.
His partner blinks nightmare eyes and turns to him, a question not quite written across the blank features.
"Careful," Kisame warns him casually. "You look as if you might care about something."
"I do not understand," Itachi shakes his head slowly, "how he can constantly wear that mask without becoming it."
Kisame remembers the first words Itachi ever said to him, and knows again that no comment has ever been so important. Bemusedly watching Deidara's fool of a partner wander off, he wishes he could think of something – anything – to say.
finis