Chapter Two – Spar
"Well, this looks like a good place as any."
Itachi narrowed his eyes at the ambiguous statement, tensing slightly. The movement of his fingers flexing went unnoticed, masked by the sleeves of his Akatsuki cloak.
They had meandered around Amegakure before departing, coming to an abrupt stop on the outskirts of the war-torn village. The gradual change in scenery from rusted metal to dense foliage was a welcoming one. There was something about the rain in Amegakure. It wasn't heavy, pelting down mercilessly; instead, it was soft – a mere patter against his Akatsuki cloak as if the country was weeping.
Without even turning, continuing to face the direction of the forest with his back turned, Orochimaru spoke. "Are you ready?"
Itachi knew what was coming, even as he answered the question with one of his own. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to hit you."
Then he moved.
It seemed 'going to' were the objective words for Itachi jumped swiftly as Orochimaru materialised behind him out of thin air, dodging the sweeping kick intended to swipe his legs. Concentrating on his feet, he channelled the precise amount of chakra to dash up the overbearing tree casting a shadow over the clearing. Almost immediately, Orochimaru was hot on his trail, running up the rough bark of the trunk.
Although he could not see Orochimaru, since the Sannin was behind him and out of vision, he found that he didn't have to; the man's chakra was that malevolent. It felt like darkness was swallowing his shadow, reaching out like an extending, grabbing hand as if to drag him down under. In fact, he was nearly dragged down into dark depths as fingers struck, curling around his ankle.
Orochimaru tightened his hold and yanked sharply, sending Itachi careering off the tree. Smirking, he leapt over to one of the tree's branches, gracefully landing on its wooden surface. He crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly unfazed, as he watched with cool amusement as Itachi twisted fluidly in the air as a whirl of shapeless black. Just as Itachi reached the ground, the ends of his Akatsuki cloak flaring out dramatically, he vanished in a murder of crows.
The crows were gawking, tempting him to follow them with his eyes, blotting out the few rays of light that hadn't been engulfed by the tree's shadow. For a moment, Orochimaru did indeed follow them before snapping out of the enthrallment in what he strongly suspected was a form of genjutsu. He made a hand seal and closed his eyes, focussing on Itachi's chakra signature; although he couldn't see the other man – much less pinpoint his exact position – he could try to discern a pattern.
"You're fast," Itachi commented, his deep voice projecting as not a single entity but a scattered cacophony, echoing eerily in the vicinity.
"You flatter me, Itachi-kun," Orochimaru drawled mockingly, even as he tensed in anticipation.
"But not fast enough."
Just as that deep voice fluttered to his ears, Orochimaru jolted into action, serpentine eyes flying open. The velocity at which Itachi struck was extreme, so much so that he narrowly dodged the fist aimed at his face by twisting his body. The fist that flew past his face was fast, but the pointed knee at his stomach was even faster, sending him wheezing and spluttering as he sailed through the air.
In an instant, utterly relentless, Itachi was after him, flinging three kunai from his rear pouch while his other hand reached for his ANBU sword strapped to his back. Since it was a relatively pathetic and straightforward attack, disguising his intention of initiating kenjutsu, he expected Orochimaru to dodge it but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, something wholly inhuman occurred – something that made his insides squirm.
Itachi faltered in his aerial pursuit and dropped to the forest floor, gripped by morbid fascination as a scaly emerald serpent emerged from the other man's mouth. Orochimaru had been coughing before from the brunt of his taijutsu but now he was gargling; the sound horridly reminiscent to that of spewing vomit.
But it didn't stop there.
The regurgitated snake appeared to be a living scabbard, containing a weapon evident from its white handle, embedded with a single glowing pale blue gem. It gleamed magnificently even in the shadows cast by the overbearing tree as it was pushed out of the snake's mouth, extending outwards until it was unsheathed completely for Orochimaru to grasp the handle with one hand.
Kusanagi.
Said sword slashed the air, deflecting the barrage of kunai, glinting all the while. It was an unspoken challenge brandished in cold, unforgiving steel reinforced by the dainty manner in which Orochimaru landed on the ground. In response, Itachi unsheathed his sword from his back, grasping it with one hand. He was rising to the challenge but kept the blade partially hidden in the sleeve of his Akatsuki cloak.
Orochimaru's eyes flickered to the standard edition ANBU sword before lifting to meet Itachi's hard gaze. He tilted his head to the side, considering the younger man before him intently. Despite possessing the inferior weapon, his expression was impassive; those lips were set in a firm, straight line. It was the same with those eyes, glowing and unblinking, boring into his own in such a way that made shiver him anticipation.
The Sharingan.
He would finally see it in action. The prospect was exciting and it manifested outwards at his lips, curling the edges of his mouth upwards into a smile.
Itachi saw every attack before Orochimaru even fully initiated it. It was as if the Sannin was like an open book to be read; all it took to comprehend was to turn the page – for the slightest muscle tension to crease the folds of his Akatsuki cloak. After dancing across the forest floor for an extended period of time, steel clashing against steel, Orochimaru came to the same conclusion as well.
"So," Orochimaru began contemplatively, widening his smile, "the Sharingan can predict my attacks."
The statement was wholly unnecessary. Itachi had an inkling it was more for the other man's benefit, therefore he remained silent, allowing his katana to converse instead.
"Let's see. What if I do this?"
A sharp thrust of Kusanagi pierced the air, bold and straightforward, as it was aimed at his torso. Itachi altered its progression deftly, whacking Kusanagi from the side to angle it in downwards. As quick as it came, Kusanagi was retracted, taunting him with its gleam.
"Very good."
Again, that tone of voice...
"How about this?"
Itachi was forced to ignore the effect of that voice as Kusanagi struck again, this time in a descending slash. The force behind it was heavy, intended to overwhelm him as it came crashing down. Using his other hand, Itachi placed it flat against the end of his weapon to block while readying his body to maintain balance at the brunt of Orochimaru's attack.
Orochimaru wasn't particularly strong, the strength behind his kenjutsu decent at best, but what he lacked in raw power he compensated with litheness. Itachi was taken by brief, hidden surprise when Orochimaru began to slither. There was simply no other apt description as the other man twisted around him, shrinking back like a coiled serpent only to return baring fangs. The lissomness was graceful as it was rivetingly disturbing.
The aesthetic quality wasn't just for show, either. To his astonishment, Itachi found it difficult to read Orochimaru's movements clearly. It was one thing to notice muscle tension and act accordingly but this was something else. The unpredictability, coupled with Kusanagi, made for a deadly combo; Itachi's eyes were darting back and forth faster than before, now with a faint furrow at his brow.
Then, for some reason, Orochimaru suddenly switched tactics, going on the defensive. Itachi attentively noted his stance; the way his shoulders were aligned with his body drawn back and the quick flickers of his amber eyes as if he was being carefully observed.
Quickly shaking away the thought, Itachi darted forward, intent on delivering the final blow. It was then, as he rushed forward with deadly speed, that he noticed the ridges marring his katana when his sleeve tightened around his wrist. His offensive onslaught had worn Orochimaru down but at the cost of weapon deterioration, snagging the draped material. He had known Kusanagi was sharp, clearly outclassing his own from legend, but to the extent of leaving indents?
If the kenjutsu spar went further, dragging on until Orochimaru said otherwise, then his katana would inevitably sever, rendering him at a disadvantage. But he was already at a disadvantage, wasn't he?
As his mind worked furiously to formulate a plan, Itachi was momentarily distracted when Orochimaru utilised Kusanagi with two hands, strengthening his defenses. His eyes narrowed on those pale fingers curling around the handle before tightening, stirring something in his mind. Then, with a rush of afterthought, his gaze trained on those slender fingers, something clicked.
Itachi rushed forward, his long legs eating up the distance between them quickly, his gait purposeful. Drawing his arm back, he gathered momentum before executing a swift horizontal slash at Orochimaru's neck. As expected, Kusanagi was raised to fend off the cutting steel; what the Sannin failed to register, however, was the added strength of his other hand. He ended up slicing cleanly through Itachi's sword, tearing through the tempered steel until the tip of Kusanagi reached the floor to be angled downwards.
Everything happened so fast that by the time Orochimaru realised his mistake, it was too late, even as the top half of Itachi's katana flew off uselessly with a deafening clang.
Broken yet sharp steel pressed against his neck.
For a moment, neither said a word; Itachi stared stoically in spite of his victory at his partner who in turn looked surprised. Orochimaru blinked once, twice, several times before curving his lips into a smile. He made no effort to push away the broken blade at his neck and instead looked Itachi straight in the eye.
It must have been a trick of light, Itachi thought with confusion, resisting the urge to frown as something akin to satisfaction shone in Orochimaru's eyes since the other man had lost. If that wasn't mystifying enough, he was even more confused by what Orochimaru said next.
"Did you enjoy the show?"
The tone, the direction of his gaze, the smile – nothing added up, yet the man was still smiling.
"Damn you, Orochimaru."
"How did you know?"
Itachi's gaze sharpened when something emerged from the forest floor. It strangely resembled a plant, a Venus flytrap from the top until it surfaced to stand, and only then, deeming it human to a degree as he saw yellow eyes, did he suddenly understand Orochimaru's question. He watched, inwardly fascinated, as the creature spoke – rather, the black half growled.
"A better question would be: how do you always know?"
Orochimaru chuckled quietly, the rumbling sound dark and mysterious, as were his words, "I have my ways, Zetsu."
With that said, leaving his words hanging in the air, he simply turned on his heel and proceeded to walk away nonchalantly, his cloak billowing dramatically.
Itachi accepted the mission scroll from the creature named Zetsu without looking, blindly taking the scroll. He hadn't sensed a spectator to their spar, not even having the faintest inkling someone had been watching, but from what Zetsu had remarked, Orochimaru had. What was weirder was that Orochimaru uncannily seemed to always know.
