Chapter Three – Curiosity

Itachi stared down at the information on the mission scroll.

The face of a unfamiliar man filled the majority of the unravelled sheet along with two smaller pictures taken at a different angle – one from the side to capture his profile, the other from the back, highlighting his short, navy-blue spiky hair. Other than the caption beneath the pictures, there was not much text, leaving little doubt to what their objective was for the layout bore a striking resemblance to that of Bingo Books.

The task was simple enough, entailing the assassination of a set target. It was almost too simple.

"What does it say, Itachi-kun?" Orochimaru enquired distantly, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder as he continued to walk straight.

"Our mission is to track, locate and kill a man called Kohaku."

Orochimaru made a quiet affirming, "Mmm," sound at that. He was not surprised by the nature of their mission. People – shinobi and civilians alike – died everyday. Death was inescapable, be it carried out as clandestine murder or by natural cause. The reality of it was nothing new – or, at the very least, what he had not come to already accept – with of course an exception. Still, he was not the one underneath the spotlight.

What Orochimaru was instead surprised by was the tone of Itachi's deep voice.

Twisting his lips at the thought, Orochimaru intentionally slowed his pace, lingering until he was strolling next to the man in question. Naturally, Itachi registered the deliberate pace, slanting his head to pin him with a hard stare.

Those impossibly dark eyes were boring into his own in such a way that Orochimaru was sorely tempted to laugh. So cold, he thought with a touch of amusement, smirking slightly. They might as well have been forged from water – frozen to become ice. Now, if only the Sharingan were to be activated, painting the black canvas with streaks of deep rose-red...

The smirk curling his mouth smoothed into a smile. Orochimaru knew Itachi could not see the smile with the concealing collar provided by his Akatsuki cloak, much less understand it.

It made him smile even more.

The smile was still playing at his lips when he drawled a querying, "So?"

"Yes?"

Such a deep voice indeed, Orochimaru mused as he remembered Itachi's reading of the scroll, struck by how masculine it was – how low it sounded. Aloud, he said, "What do you think?"

Itachi allowed some time to think carefully over what was being asked of him. It was a simple assassination – rather straightforward actually – but that was not what Orochimaru was asking him. The vagueness shrouding the question served to remind him that Orochimaru was not an ordinary person, which was reflected in his cryptic way of doing things like the current conversation – if he could call it one.

"I've completed similar assignments before," Itachi replied after a moment.

"As have I," Orochimaru said simply, echoing the sentiment. Unspoken between them was the obvious fact that they had both been affiliated with the darker side of Konoha through ANBU, even if Root was a division of it. "I suppose it's nothing new, isn't it? Getting your hands dirty, I mean."

Dirty.

Itachi's eyes darkened at the word, thinking of how unnervingly accurate it was when it came to describing what it was to take a life, and the stain it left on hands – a soul. If anything, he should know, seeing as how his hands had been bloodied that fateful night of the Uchiha Masscare.

"No, I suppose not," Itachi agreed at a length, blinking at the direction of his brooding thoughts. Shaking them away mentally, he turned to face Orochimaru, only to narrow his eyes.

During his musings, the Sannin had opted to tip his head back, now staring at the bright, clear sky. They had well and truly left Amegakure and with that the rain. It was apparent in the sunshine but, more than that, it was obvious in the golden rays highlighting the paleness of Orochimaru's skin. What little amount visible from the high collar contrasted with the black of his cloak as well as his hair, making his complexion seem lighter than it actually was.

It was a startling, if not quite interesting, thing to witness. The shadows from the forest no longer clung to his face like a swathing, malevolent thing even if he still exuded darkness through his emanating aura. When Orochimaru turned to look at him, the sun brightened his eyes too, giving the gold a sort of honeyed glaze. There were so many thoughts reflected in his eyes, yet the true nature of them remained a mystery.

Itachi shifted his gaze to look anywhere else but at Orochimaru, becoming uncomfortably conscious of his blatant staring. It was uncharacteristic of him to openly stare, but as he looked at the ground, gathering his bearings, he could not dismiss the world of information in Orochimaru's eyes. He decided to pull that string, seeing as he needed information regarding the next chapter of his life.

Espionage was, after all, essential for a spy.

Keeping his voice perfectly neutral, his expression shuttered, Itachi raised his head to pose the question, "Does Akatsuki do these sort of missions often?"

"You could say that." Orochimaru looked thoughtful, relishing in the curiosity underlying Itachi's question. That deep voice might have been flat, but he knew better. Curiosity was part of human nature, after all. Instead of plainly answering, he opted a different approach, responding with a question of his own. "How much do you know about Akatsuki?"

True to his cold, quiet demeanour, Itachi's distant reply was, "Not much."

"Is that so..." Orochimaru muttered, as though more to himself, smothering a laugh at the other man's expense. Highly inappropriate, it would have jarred their conversation and as much as he loved being provocative, taunting others whimsically to make the windmills move, he had something else in mind – like playing on that lovely pull synonymous with curiosity.

That very pull glinted in Itachi's eyes, black and cold as they were, and in response, Orochimaru felt something pass through him. It was an undeniably powerful surge, one that sent shivers of excitement through his body, such that his lip curled in a telltale manner. Knowledge was indeed power. He knew this well, feeling it coursing through his body as he held the answers Itachi's sought.

"Akatsuki is a criminal organisation, as I'm sure you very well know," Orochimaru began, the smoothness of his voice washing over Itachi as he listened intently. "One does not simply join without an invitation. I suppose yours was the Uchiha Clan Massacre."

Itachi was disturbed on levels he should have expected. For the most part, he was prepared for it. Still, it was disconcerting that Orochimaru would liken his crime and the defection following it to an invitation, more or less similar to an interview. The disregard – or was it conscious acceptance? – of immorality sent a chill up his spine, however due to his exceptional emotional control, he kept his expression devoid of emotion.

"And yours?" he ventured carefully, turning to face the enigma of a man next to him. "What crime did you commit?" With what he had just heard, Itachi fully expected Orochimaru to gloat, relishing in the abominable crime he had committed. Part of him wished Orochimaru would, just so that it would make everything so much more easier for him to be acutely aware of where he was now as part of Akatsuki.

The low, smooth tone of Orochimaru's voice was certainly not helping in that regard sounding so polite – if not deceptively, cunningly, so, intended to lull him into a false sense of security.

The answer Itachi received was even less helpful, making him ponder instead of giving him closure through confirmation of the malevolence he both saw and felt whenever he looked at Orochimaru.

"Why, I dared to dream, of course."