This is totally not horribly late.

My life has been ruled by cosplay these last few months - cosplay, exams and a sudden love of Pokemon, photoshop and Deviantart in combination. Though, fear not, I never forgot about this~! Summer holidays and a relaxed period in study leave are coming up, so chapters should get more frequent (or at least not quite so horribly spread across months...)

I have a bad habit of leaving Itachi out of chapters. That'll stop... eventually. Actually, he features plenty next chapter, what with some love love development (hah, not exactly, however).

Shit's beginning to go down, yo. RATED M FOR MADARA (... it's not actually M-deserving, but that is the first letter of his name, so~)


Kabuto probably could have died of a heart attack when his boss came back positively skipping with glee. The cold weather apparently thoroughly forgotten, Orochimaru wore a suspiciously triumphant smirk. Throughout his years of working for the man, Kabuto had ascertained that his boss had a smirk for every mood ranging from actually feeling smug to extreme depression. The exultant one he wore at that moment, however, was probably the most fear-striking he had ever seen. A happy Orochimaru generally meant someone had died, lost a lot of money, or had caught consumption and was going to die soon anyway.

"Orochimaru-sama… are you feeling okay?"

"Kabuto, I currently find myself in such a fabulous mood that even spending an hour in a room with Jiraiya would not seem like such a bad idea."

Kabuto felt his brows furrow in worry; someone had definitely died – the last time Jiraiya had been near his boss, priceless objects had been smashed and a few had been hospitalised. Perhaps poor Itachi had committed suicide upon realising the hopelessness of his plight?

And then the unthinkable happened: out of his own volition, Orochimaru quite happily sat down and began doing paperwork. Kabuto didn't think that such a thing had ever happened as he generally had to force his boss to work with threats of withholding information, or if the situation was really dire, tea.

A stunned silence hung in the air before Kabuto, thoroughly disturbed, decided he should creep out in case his boss pulled out one of his many cleverly concealed pistols and randomly shot him from across the room. Lord knows his aim was, suspiciously, good enough. However, on his way to the door, he was stopped by the sound of Orochimaru's voice.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" he practically sung. Looking over at the desk, Kabuto ascertained that he was reading over all known information about the massacre.

Curious, the silver haired secretary turned around to ask his boss a few things. "I take it the meeting went well?"

When his only response was a suggestive little smirk, he took it to mean 'beyond well'. That was a bit of a relief and a slight surprise, given the two of them had anticipated that Itachi would be somewhat difficult to handle.

Almost as though he sensed Kabuto's thoughts, Orochimaru offered an explanation. "Sasuke-kun, it seems, is going to be invaluable in my bringing Itachi to heel." He paused, smiling a little to himself, "You know, I was right about him being too nice a person? Even though he killed his family, Itachi is still that same irritatingly pleasant boy I met five years ago, and that will help me to no end. That in itself proves that the massacre was not done with murderous intent-"

"Sir, I don't think you can walk into court and say 'Itachi didn't do it because he's nice'." Kabuto interjected, highly sceptical.

Orochimaru gave a bitter expression at the interjection. "Let me finish, child. Thanks to that, I know for a fact that I can place all of the blame on Madara, get him in jail and hopefully killed, and then have full access to the Uchiha Company's wealth and connections through an eternally grateful Itachi and Sasuke. As I said before, this is going to be fun."

Oh god, another crazy plan… the secretary mused to himself, already feeling a headache ensuing. It was thanks to that kind of ambition that Kabuto was so fond of his boss in the special, strange way he was. However, he was not entirely convinced about the logistics, nor was he enthusiastic about putting the plan into motion. He took it as his job to stop Orochimaru from doing entirely foolish things. "Sir, what if Itachi did do it?"

"That changes nothing. If I have Sasuke in my hands, which I have decided I shall and so I will, he wouldn't dare admit to it again. All it means is that I might have to lie a little, which, I think you will agree, is no great change for me. Either way, I fully intend for Madara to end up either shamed, in prison, or dead. Preferably all three." With that, he returned to his papers, probably building his entire case in his head as he went along.

Deciding that he was probably no longer needed, Kabuto thought he would return home. After all, he had a Sasuke to meet at lunch the next day. He had considered telling his boss about that, but before all that, he thought he'd use the boy to learn a few new things. It wasn't just Orochimaru that was good at scheming, he thought to himself.

Before he could leave, however, he was stopped for the second time. "Ah, Kabuto, I am going shopping tomorrow. I want you to call the prison and arrange things so that Itachi is permitted various luxury goods including half decent clothes. Surplus washes would be good, too. The thought of only being permitted a bath, or in his case hose-down, once every two days is far too much for me to bear," and as his boss continued naming various privileges he expected his secretary to get for his client just like that, Kabuto sighed. In many ways, this was far worse than a grumpy, cold Orochimaru, "… I doubt anything can be done about the distasteful prison food, but I do want permission for him to be allowed snacks."

"Sir… you wouldn't happen to be somewhat… fond of Itachi already, would you?" The silver haired boy asked incredulously, in slight awe of the lengths he was going to make his client possible. He knew his boss was fairly swift at becoming enamoured with the first attractive person he saw regardless of pithy things like gender, age or availability, but really, he was fairly sure that there was some law against lawyers and clients.

Not to mention Madara; Kabuto didn't think he was good at sharing.

"I confess I am not entirely sure. He is really quite sweet…" Orochimaru trailed off, apparently thinking all too seriously about involving himself with Itachi. "Anyway, off you go. I do not want the prison to confiscate whatever I buy for him tomorrow."

Sighing, Kabuto trudged off with an affirmative noise. So much for getting home and having a night to himself.


The next day, Sasuke paced the length of the restaurant nervously, having already spent a good ten minutes fretting at the table. He was expecting a waitress to come and sit him down, but until that happened he fully intended to continue his worried movements.

Kabuto – he knew he shouldn't have trusted him – was half an hour late. Was this an attempt to unnerve him? Surely Orochimaru wouldn't keep his subordinates during their lunch hour; that seemed all too inhumane. Clearly, he had been stood up. This was just another example of the world out to take Sasuke Uchiha's hope, step on it, and then feed the remains to his brother for his probably lavish jail-tea.

Where would he even go if this fell through? Back to Orochimaru, and this time not leave until he was properly accepted? Sasuke was so engrossed in his self doubt that he did not notice when Kabuto finally walked into the café, snow stuck to his clothing and hair.

He was unsurprised to find the young Uchiha pacing, and, although it was an entertaining sight, he made himself known with a cough and a slight wave of the hand. "Sorry for my tardiness – the boss had me carrying things back to the office post his spontaneous shopping trip."

Despite being unimpressed, Sasuke merely nodded. That story didn't sound particularly far-fetched, given what he'd already seen of the wanton lawyer. Really, didn't his parents bring him up with even a slither of decency? Kabuto appeared to have followed this chain of thoughts and gave him a look which clearly read 'exasperating, isn't he?'

Once the two had seated themselves comfortably with necessary food and drink, Sasuke opened the conversation. He did not want to waste any more time. "How much do you know about all this?"

"Less than I would like. Your brother supposedly killed your family," Kabuto was surprised that the boy didn't flinch there; perhaps he was getting used to the idea of most of his family dying. "Bizarrely, he left you and your uncle alive. He handed himself in… And now my boss finds himself working for Madara to get him out of jail."

Sasuke nodded thoughtfully. It had not quite clicked in his mind that that was the purpose of Orochimaru working for Madara, but he refused to let Kabuto know that. "That sounds about right. I can fill you in on a few things. Anything in particular?"

Interested, Kabuto leaned forward, whipping out a notebook and pen. He ignored the raised eyebrow he got for this: making notes was very much something he enjoyed and took great pride in. It was this organisation that kept him as secretary, after all. "How much do you know about the relationship between my boss and Madara?"

Sasuke blushed immediately as though recounting a slightly lewd memory. "They—uh… Well, they don't seem to stop at a professional relationship, for starters. Though, I didn't get the impression Orochimaru was happy where he was. Kinda like he had something hanging over him that kept him in my uncle's servitude. Might just be me imagining things, though, I mean, I wasn't really with the two of them for long…"

Kabuto nodded. That much was congruent with what he'd managed to work out from his boss' reactions, not having met Madara himself. However, it did not seem that Sasuke knew much more along those lines. "Alright, let's keep this swift. Motives. I want a good reason why your brother would have killed your family. On top of that… a reason why your uncle would."

Startled, Sasuke tensed in his chair. Apparently he had given any gravity to the thought that his uncle could have been too deeply involved in the plot, "My brother… I really don't know. He's insane – I just know he did it."

"Why is that?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe the fact that I saw him standing above my parents' bodies with a smoking gun in his hand?"

Fair enough, Kabuto thought, again taking notes. That hardly helped Itachi's case – he didn't doubt that Orochimaru's opponent, whoever he or she ended up being, would have Sasuke testify to that effect.

"But as for my uncle… Well, he's running for mayor. Why would he? The last thing he'd want is a murder in closet, right?" Sasuke said simply. "Although… I don't know. He never seemed too upset about it."

In fact, as the conversation went along, it became apparent that the boy was clearly as in the dark about the massacre as most people which was, Kabuto supposed, telling in itself. He obviously had nothing to do with it at the least, which sparked a question, "So, why do you think you're still alive?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, during which Sasuke took a long, indulgent sip of his steaming drink. Eventually, he sat it back down upon the table. "I… I don't know. Itachi said something to me that night…" he trailed off.

Kabuto's interest was instantly piqued – whatever was said, most likely, was extremely revealing. He doubted even his boss knew this yet. He smiled to himself at the thought of being helpful, and poised his pen for writing it down, "Go on." He encouraged.

"That's the thing. I don't know what he said – rather, I can't remember exactly. The memories of that night are still hazy." Sasuke looked to the side, uncomfortable, "I want to know as much as you do, believe me."

Undeterred, Kabuto pressed on. Getting information out of those with memory issues used to be something he was very good at in his previous job with Orochimaru, "You said you can't remember 'exactly'. What are the small things you recall?"

"It's strange – he mentioned something about," he paused to make sure of things in his mind, "this may make no sense, but… I think it was crows, a nightmare and a perfume? There you go." Sasuke gave Kabuto a level, unperturbed look. "I want my meeting, now."

Eventually, the secretary nodded and pushed up his glasses. That bizarre little snippet may, though seemingly irrelevant to the current facts, have opened up a totally new window to the case, something that Orochimaru would be very interested in, indeed. "I'll speak to him as soon as I can. Actually, no, come straight to the office tomorrow morning – he'll probably be too tired by now to listen to you properly. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you want to see him for?"

The Uchiha sniffed, apparently having decided that the secretary had outlived his usefulness, or something to that effect, "I do mind you asking, actually. I don't really think it's your business." Satisfied, Sasuke rose. "'Til tomorrow, then."


Over in prison, Kisame had a dilemma. He liked his new neighbour – he really did, he was quiet and well mannered, but not lacking a certain discipline and hardiness to him. Indeed, Itachi was an admirable person, and someone he didn't want to see ruined by the nastiness of prison life.

The new guy himself was not the issue; rather, it was his friends', if that's what they were, reaction to him and vice versa. He knew better than to hope that Deidara or Hidan would be pleased by another new member of their exclusive sect, especially one that had done nothing to prove his worth to the group, but he had at least thought that Sasori would see Itachi's potential for greatness.

Perhaps he did, and was just being his usual Sasori 'I'm-interested-but-I-won't-admit-it' self. Lord knows, since coming to prison with the rest of them he had been less enthusiastic about just about everything, not that he had ever been a bundle of zest. He probably still felt bitter about his partner's last minute turnaround escape from prison, Kisame mused.

Regardless, Sasori's misery was not the issue. Rather, the Akatsuki-Itachi situation was. Even when Nagato stretched out a rarely revealed hand of welcoming, the Uchiha had all but spat directly on it. Brave though that was, that really wouldn't help his case…

Apparently, Kisame's vexation was visible, as Kakuzu gave him a punch on the arm from his seated position next to him.

"What's wrong with you?" He muttered from underneath his mask.

"I'm worried."

He didn't really have to elaborate, as Kakuzu was a fairly perceptive person, and more or less knew what was plaguing his companion's thoughts. "Indeed – that Itachi is gonna find himself beaten up, raped or dead if he doesn't come and be a bit nicer to us or the other inmates."

"… Thanks for that. I feel much better."

"No problem."

They fell into silence, watching a few fist fights break out in the courtyard with disinterest. Neither of them particularly enjoyed sitting out in the sub zero temperatures watching vast, hairy men pound each other to submission, but it was all part of the Akatsuki show of generally being hardcore, and so they did it anyway.

It certainly brought benefits: Akatsuki members were given front of the line for everything, be it food, showers, the newspaper deposit or the occasional celebratory gift from the higher ups. Not that those were anything except mocking; one year they had all been given tea cosies for Christmas. Handy, given there was not a teapot in sight. Indeed, some had tried to wear them as hats, but quickly found themselves beaten up for being so girly.

Kisame sighed. Itachi was pretty girly looking, come to think of it – what chance did he have?

"Just stick by his side if you're that worried." Kakuzu murmured, in between impressed noises at some of the moves displayed in the largest courtyard fight.

"That's what I'm doing."

"Fine. Why are you worried?"

"Well, I don't think I could do much if Deidara and Hidan decided they really wanted to knock him off in a break time."

There was a silence, which Kakuzu thought he'd fill with what he thought was a rather amusing little joke. "It's break time now. He might already be dead."

Kisame huffed and stood up, resisting the urge to punch Kakuzu in the face. "Helpful, aren't you! Whatever, enjoy your spectator sport."

He headed off without another word, making sure to bump into some smaller inmates to fully express his anger. Kisame really couldn't recall being so generally stressed since their group trial before incarceration, and that was a pretty miserable time.

"I need a nap or something," he hissed to himself.


Orochimaru's mood, since the morning's shopping trip for Itachi, had fallen drastically for the usual reason – he was on the way to go and see a person he very rarely wanted to, yet was often forced to. While waiting for Kabuto's return from his lunch time sortie, he had realised that he probably ought to go and tell Madara that all was going according to plan, and that Itachi would be quite cooperative. Therefore, he found himself standing outside the dark wooden door to his employer's study, the ominous hue doing nothing to make him feel any better. Not that it ever did, he was largely used to this.

As per usual, he didn't bother to knock and instead barged straight in, long past the stage with Madara where pleasantries mattered. Much to his surprise, however, he found the office empty. Checking the usual secret compartments of Madara's office, of which there were quite unnecessarily six to his knowledge, he decided that the man really wasn't in. This was generally strange, as he kept very strict working hours and this was definitely a time where he should have been present.

More than a little suspicious, Orochimaru sidled up to the desk which he was forbidden from touching, unless of course he was forced on to it by its owner in a moment of highly unprofessional wild behaviour, and searched for any clue. Discovering the usual biscuit tin, half empty, and a series of generally very dull paper stacks relating to shipping and other such drivel, he was about to give up. That was, until he spied a curious sachet sitting, assumedly purposely concealed, between the covers of a file.

At this point rather nervous that Madara would return and find him looking through his desk, Orochimaru quickly opened the little bag and pulled out what appeared to be a seed. Amused, he wondered if the Uchiha tycoon had suddenly gotten into gardening.

Much as he wished this was the case, this was doubtful, and so he thought it prudent to steal this seed and run some tests on it. Purloining the curious was always the obvious response, he had long since decided. Or perhaps he would grow it and then run some tests – either way, it was a strange thing to find on Madara's desk, and anything odd in the man's possession almost always spelt disaster.

Tearing himself away from his line of thought, he reached for his tightest necklace and opened the hidden compartment in the fourth pearl from the centre on the left, and inserted the seed snugly. He then quickly rearranged things, thanking his competent memory for retaining the image of how the desk had looked before he touched anything. However, feeling that not everything was perfect, he invented a reason for why he, quite legitimately, touched the desk: picking up a pen from its horizontal position on a sheet, and grabbing a piece of note paper, he began to write a note concerning his success over Itachi. About three words in, he was interrupted.

"How many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands of my things, hm? Did you just get here?"

With a start, Orochimaru's gaze snapped up to see Madara standing in the doorway, a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face. The folded arms didn't help much with the image, and had he been discovered a minute earlier with the mysterious seed bag, Orochimaru didn't doubt he might find himself down the barrel of a pistol. He had a great relationship with his superior, after all. "Indeed. Afternoon, sir." He grated out, finishing his loopy scrawl regardless of the lack of need, thanking his luck for putting him on the favourable side of the close call.

Eyes narrow, Madara approached the desk and peered over at the note his lawyer had been writing. Despite his usually well-masked expressions, he allowed himself a little sigh of relief, apparently convinced that nothing consequential had been found or searched for on his desk. How wrong he is, Orochimaru thought with an internal smirk, highly pleased with his stealthily executed stealing. Just like the good old days, his thoughts continued wryly.

"Ahh, you won him over faster than I had expected." The Uchiha said, finally back to his normal joking façade, referencing the note.

"Naturally – I have ways you are familiar with yourself, no?" Orochimaru replied, plucking the note from the desk and tossing it casually into the bin a few feet away. He was thankful that the toss didn't miss – that would have looked more than a little silly. Feeling bold on his successful track covering, he ventured a question. "Strange to see you out of the office outside your usual hours – did something come up?"

"I was visiting a friend of ours."

Unaware that Madara and he shared anyone they could call 'friends', Orochimaru raised an eyebrow, before resting lightly on the desk. "I was unaware that I liked any of your compatriots."

"Well, I don't like him either – funny how these things work." Madara waved off vaguely, fixing his subordinate with a look which always spelt trouble for those around him. "Concerning my nephew, however…"

"Which?"

"The one that matters," the Uchiha smirked a little as he said this. Concerned, Orochimaru was still slightly unsure as to which nephew he meant – assumedly, it would be Itachi, but… "I would expect you to retain a professional relationship with him."

That came out of nowhere, Orochimaru thought, alarmed. Not one to show his concern, however, he smiled back at his boss. "Why, I am every inch a professiona-"

Orochimaru was cut off by Madara taking a step closer to him and intrusively slipping his hands on his lower back. "Mmm, not how I'd put it."

Falling silent at the sudden invasion of personal space and decency, it became apparent to Orochimaru that he would not be back in time to pester Kabuto about what he had been doing at lunch, and he had no choice but to lean into his Madara's now wandering touches, thoroughly displeased by his body's willingness. "You are more d-depraved than I-"

Madara moved yet closer, and brought his mouth to Orochimaru's ear, and spoke in a firm whisper. "Hah, well, just… remember: you owe me."


Madaras are, in general, classified as not safe for work.