Edited by Floating On An Akatsuki Cloud
"Speech."
Emphasis on the word or flashback
Inspiration source: 'The flat of the blade' by Massive Attack
Chapter 7: Games
Four months later, Konoha, afternoon
The sounds of whispers were too low to hear, to catch the words, so all he could do was observe. The way the pair looked at each other was too innocent for his liking, but he marvelled at the sight of the blushes that adorned their faces. They sat on the sofa side by side, slightly touching their hands, and they seemed to speak of the private subject, as they were secretive and almost intimate.
Jiraiya made notes and perversely giggled, imagining them in other positions.
The blond man sheepishly smiled as the woman looked like she was thanking him, and Jiraiya couldn't feel more proud. He almost thought that Minato would never open up again, staying forever closed inside his own shell after the tragedy. But as always, the brat managed to surprise him, and here he was, perched on the railing outside of the Hokage office, watching through the window as the two loving birds were sharing shy smiles.
The choice of the woman was by all means questionable, as she was not younger than Minato, and by Jiraiya's standards the woman had to be younger than a man. Tsunade was an exception of course, as even in her age she looked younger than the pervert himself... Another disturbing thing was her social position, not only was she a widow with a son, but she used to be the wife of the branch house clan head. She was pretty, that was true, but not overly so, though, all of this did not matter if she could make Minato happy.
It has been over six years, and all of this time the blond has neglected himself, turning into the working machine. This woman and her child brought the old Minato back. He started to smile more and even looked like he was born again.
No one could help him before... not the Sandaime, not Kakashi, not him and certainly not his tiring office job. He was still too lonely. Now though, he was even cheerful sometimes.
He wrote something in his notes again and his sixth sense was telling him that if the pair did not kiss soon, the world would end.
He blinked and glanced at the village below. There was some noise and shouting. From the corner behind Jiraiya an ANBU guard stepped forward and stooped to have a better look. Both of them stayed quiet and observed as the crowd of villagers parted to reveal a blonde woman with large breasts, and she had a dark haired companion with a pig in her arms.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Or in this case, she.
What was Tsunade doing here? Taking a closer look at her he realised she was enraged. Jiraiya glanced back at the pair in the office and wondered if his teammate was marching here.
As if she could read his mind, the femme fatale looked up at the tower balcony and locked her eyes with the white haired man. His expression was surprised so she decided to act before he could save her target.
Fisting her hands she ran to the tower wall. Not wasting any time she hit it with all of her might and wanting to make the earthquake even bigger, she added an enhanced kick there.
The tremors in the ground and the building could be felt and heard through the entire village.
The ANBU that carelessly stood on the edge before was now hanging with one hand on the railing, praying for being spared by the crazy woman. Tsunade though, caught the sight of the white hairs disappearing behind the shaken roof of the tower. She cursed and quickly took off her shoe, before throwing it in direction of her running, former teammate. If the loud yelp a second later was any indication, she hit the mark.
With faces red as tomato, Minato and Hikari untangled themselves from the heap they fell into on the floor.
The furniture in the office had changed its positions, but despite that, carefully crawling on the floor, the blond easily navigated through the small chaos to the balcony, where he glanced at the worried guard, and then frowning, hurriedly moved to the railing and a bit over it, to find the source of the disturbance. He tentatively looked down.
There she was.
In all her glory.
Hell has no wrath like a woman scorned. And if he remembered correctly, he was the reason she was so mad.
She narrowed her gaze at the mop of blonde hair above the railing and gritted her teeth.
"Who do you think you are?" She shouted and noticed with satisfaction that her voice caused him to momentarily flinch.
He blinked, and then mumbled. "I am the Yondaime Hokage." His whisper went unheard and she glared up with murder in her eyes. He almost shrank in himself. "...old hag..."
She squeezed her hands so hard her knuckles turned white. "Don't you even dare to think of running away." She quietly threatened, knowing that even without hearing her with this distance he could still read her lips; she quickly entered the building, as people on her way moved aside, terrified of her power.
He stumbled back and smiled sheepishly at the woman that just a minute before was his guest. "I apologize, but I think I have to handle this matter personally."
She gulped and wordlessly nodded.
One of the guards appeared by Hikari and nodded to the leader as he placed his hand on her shoulder. They disappeared in swirl of green leaves.
"Namikaze!"
There was a shout coming from outside of the office and the blond winced. Minato nervously fixed his clothes, glad that he could face Tsunade in his full power. The bandages of his right hand had been taken off just a month ago, and if the need arose, he could defend himself with both taijutsu and ninjutsu.
He tried to pay no mind to the sounds of disarray behind the doors and inwardly wondered if at least one shinobi would stand by his side when he faced the woman's wrath. For now all his subordinates hid themselves believing that Minato was the only one who could stop her. They of course didn't think for a moment how hard it could be for him to fight the teammate of his sensei, an older person with their own tragedy, and on top of all that, a gorgeous woman that was an inspiration for hundreds and thousands of perverts...
The doors flew off the hinges and the office shook as she slowly stepped closer. He considered backing away but stubbornly stood his ground and noticed that she almost bared her teeth like a big cat that planned to push the mouse into a corner.
He wondered if he should start to behave like a barking dog, to gain control over the situation. It didn't help that he always looked at Tsunade like the long lost aunt that had a tendency to appear on his doorstep once in a decade. He put himself together and hardened his resolve, which turned his gaze into icy glare.
"There's no need to be so aggressive, Tsunade-san." He spoke diplomatically. She cut him off, stopping her advance in the centre of the room.
"Just who do you think you are? Who gave you a right to decide if I do belong or not to this village?"
He blinked once. Then he rubbed his nose speaking. "That right is given to me with my title."
Taking a step to his right he pulled his desk, to adjust its position in the office, and then lifted up his chair, placing it where it should always be.
While he busied himself with these actions, she stared at him in shock. The little brat spoke to her like it was her who committed a crime.
"When it becomes public knowledge people will not understand; Konoha would be more happy if I came back here, not if I am the target of bounty collectors." She smirked evilly, taking another route.
"The people of this village wouldn't be happy to know that with their money we pay for your debts." He sat in his chair and smirked back, accepting her game. Who wouldn't play with Tsunade? She always lost, no matter what game she played.
"You know perfectly well why I left this village and never planned to come back." She reminded him sternly, not understanding how he could be so calm while facing her.
"It's been what, ten years? You're not fighting your tragedy anymore, Tsunade-san, you're fighting your fears ...and stubbornness."
Her face took on the angry expression, her scowl deepened and she leaned forward. "Do you want to see what I truly plan to fight?"
He quietly sighed, looking down. She couldn't beat him with words so she thought she could beat him with fists. "I doubt you can win with this mindset."
"You wanna bet?" She asked without missing a beat.
...You wanna bet?
...Want to make a bet?
...a bet?
...Flashback, about 5 years ago
Each time he entered the house he forced his mouth shut, because almost automatically he was ready to say 'Tadaima'. He forced himself to remember that no one would hear him.
Each time he entered the bedroom he forced his eyes away, because his rationality was telling him that the room was empty, but for some reason, his feelings were fooling him telling to look, to make sure, that she was not there. And despite the knowledge that she was not there, he still looked up to glance at the bed they once shared, the balcony, where she could overlook the garden, the chair before the mirror, where she looked to make sure she fixed her hair, and the bathroom door, which from she walked out in a green towel, her favourite one.
And only after he was sure that he was alone, he let himself to breathe, to sigh, to grieve, and sometimes, to cry.
Since she was, no, they, were gone, he felt like he wasn't himself anymore. Like he lived in someone else's body, that worked, fought, thought and acted on its own.
He leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes, wishing that he wouldn't open them anymore. He really didn't want to fight any longer.
Who was he? A man with no purpose to live. He might have fooled the village and his closest people that he was fine, that he continued to be the responsible leader, shinobi and man. But he could not fool himself. Those who lied to themselves had it better. If you fooled yourself it was the same as to fool the whole world. After all, you couldn't be telling a lie if you believed what you said. You could not commit a sin if you believed you were doing something righteous.
He forced himself to always see the difference between truths and lies, to know where he stood. Now he regretted it, because if he could he'd make himself believe everything in his life was ...fine.
He considered ending it once and for all. But every suspicious movement meant that his guards would appear by his side and stop him.
He abruptly opened his eyes. He saw the white ceiling of his bedroom.
Since when have his protectors become the walls around him? Didn't he view them as his subordinates anymore? Was he that desperate to get away from his own life?
He analyzed himself and came to conclusion that he certainly reached the stage where his thoughts and actions could turn dangerous; for his surroundings.
He sat up and covered his face with his palms.
If Kushina saw him like this she'd beat the shit out of him.
Why did he keep on reassuring himself that the way he behaved was important for his memories of Kushina? Each time he felt he was close to doing something stupid he asked himself if she would have appreciated this. For the last two years it stopped him.
But tonight he was too tired.
He was too tired to ask her, too tired to fight himself, too tired to do anything other than drowning in his own self pity.
And the constant thought that he was watched by the squad that instead of protecting him from his outside enemies was ready to protect him from his own hands was aggravating.
His palms slowly slid down his face and he tiredly strolled to the bathroom. He absently remembered that tonight his guarding squad consisted of experienced ANBU, among which was only one bloodline wielder, and he could not see through walls, like the Hyuuga.
He closed the door, turning the light on.
Taking off the jounin vest he looked into the mirror.
He already looked like he was dead.
Maybe if he tried a little, had a taste, he'd finally come to a decision?
He shook his head and let the cold water run. He splashed his face, feeling that he was going insane.
Maybe it would wake him up?
He gritted his teeth not knowing if he was holding back a scream or a curse.
Or it might put him to the restful, endless sleep.
His face became red and a sweat started to cover his forehead. He didn't know if it was anger or fear.
Thoughts were swirling in his mind and it was almost as if he wasn't alone in this body, and one part of him wanted to be awake, and the other wanted to sleep. The strangest thing was that he didn't know which part of him was real, or which part was him. And if there was the other, then why it was there?
Was he only imagining that he was going insane? Maybe he exaggerated and his state of mind was ordinary for a person that lived alone and fought his inner demons.
All of it was only making him even more tired.
He held his breath and scowled, abruptly biting his right thumb and smearing it on his left wrist. A single three sided kunai popped in his hand and he quickly cut across the left wrist, barely mindful of his actions.
Was it curiosity? Was it tiredness?
He was looking down, observing his hand, studying it with a cold gaze, as the blood was flowing out, right from under the skin, into the sink below.
He simply let it flow.
The questions though, still kept on coming. Should he cut the other too? Should he feel pain, feel that he turned insane, or that he was just stupid?
The pain should have given him at least some sort of relief, some sort of answer, but instead, it gave him nothing.
He quietly sighed and looked up at his reflection. It stared back at him with boredom. Was he bored of himself? Maybe that was the next stage?
Dejectedly, he opened a small drawer above the mirror and took out a roll of bandages. Then he wrapped it around his wrist, carelessly, and finishing the action, got back to looking at himself.
With both of his hands he leaned on the sink and gave himself a glare.
"Now you're acting stupid." He spoke aloud, accusingly, berating his reflection. "You're stronger than that, aren't you, Minato?"
He noticed that in his glimmering blue eyes surfaced a tinge of hope. "You can be sane again, if you want to. All you need is to force yourself." He continued to speak aloud to himself and then nodded. "That's right; I think you'll make a full recovery in half a year, wanna make a bet...?"...
End of flashback
She stared deeply into his gaze, noticing that for a moment there was a flash of recognition, she didn't know what emotion accompanied it though. And then, just like it never happened, he stared back, but his posture was calmer, and for some reason, she couldn't look at him like he was a brat. He seemed older. His lips moved and she heard his soft voice, different from the one he used moments ago.
"We make bets not to prove ourselves to someone else, but to prove something to ourselves."
It took her a bit longer to register the meaning of the words, and if it wasn't for the manner he voiced them in, she'd have considered herself insulted. He rather sounded like he spoke from his own experience.
He paid no mind to her puzzled expression. He remembered the expression on the Sandaime's face when the man noticed the bandaged wrist. The old man's gaze very slowly turned to the other hand, and he imperceptibly sighed in relief, seeing that it was untouched. His face though, expressed that he was still weary. Similar reaction came from other people he knew, but not even a single one of them voiced their thoughts. All of them were quiet, opting to give him warning, pitying and understanding glances instead.
As if they knew.
Huffing, Tsunade turned to the left and forcefully grabbed a guest chair. She pushed it to the desk and flopped down, taking off her one remaining shoe a moment later. Minato raised his brows noticing the absence of the other feet garment, but did not voice his concern.
In the formed silence she stared at him expectantly.
Not one to stay quiet for eternity, he asked with a tilt of a head. "Yes?"
Her lip deformed in distaste. "Well, you're the ruler here, tell me what we shall do."
"Oh, if only she would speak to me that way..."
Both of the blonds turned to the doorframe where a hunched, uncertain hermit stood holding in his hand a black, high heeled shoe. "I'd have at least two hundred ways to reply to that..."
Suffice to say, it wasn't the wisest thing Jiraiya said in the presence of the Slug princess.
That beating he would remember till the rest of his days.
Ame
When his father said that he'll be allowed to see one of the most important things for Akatsuki, he did not expect to find out it was hidden in one of the caves under the tower.
With the darkness surrounding them, and the sound of the dripping water accompanying the sounds of their steps, they walked through the labyrinth of paths created by the water sources under the surface of the earth.
His father's one uncovered eye behind the mask gleamed in the gloom, making Shiru feel somewhat uncomfortable. He wondered if his own eyes would make anyone unsettled.
He felt the chill of the place and grimaced, tightening his knee length black cloak around him. Madara glanced down at him, as they walked side by side.
He did not make complaints. Usually he'd say something annoying aloud, but when his dad spoke to him in the morning he felt a bit of tension behind the topic. It felt like some crucial, significant secret was about to be revealed to him. In times like this, as rare as they were, he opted to stay humourless and keep his behaviour more mature like.
They were closer to the bigger room, if the slight echo he heard meant anything. He felt nervous.
Madara didn't say what he would see, only that it was important, and that he and Nagato hoped and almost expected him to see things that they had missed.
The gloved hand landed on his shoulder and they stopped. In front of them the narrow passage ended with the wide entrance to the biggest part of the cave. He wondered if the gesture meant that his dad noticed that he was scared, but he instead believed that his father's small gesture was a reassurance; however it did not stop him from having shivers run down his spine at the realisation that they were almost there. Being this close to whatever this was he was supposed to see, he felt lightheaded, and strangely, he wasn't sure if he was affected by the tension, anticipation or uncertainty anymore.
Slowly they moved forward.
It was the first time he felt so weary about something he didn't know a thing of. Usually he was ready to discover, to learn and to find new things. He was always so eager before, so why did he hesitate, walking forward but keeping his gaze on the ground? He was afraid to look up. There was something inside of him, telling him that he might not like what he saw.
It was surprising how out of nowhere his consciousness was giving him suggestions. It made him want to avoid confrontation with this something or... this someone. He wasn't sure if it was a thing or a person.
"We're here." His father spoke. He heard his low voice from afar, even though he knew that his dad was right beside him.
Maybe it was because of the strange sensation in his mind, making him dizzy.
Apprehensively, he stopped and let his gaze travel upward.
The place didn't have much light, so anything his gaze landed upon, was barely seen unless it had chakra, which in turn would make everything glow with bright, different colours no matter if he looked at it with the light of the day, or the shadow of the night.
The sinister red, dark brown and black colours of energy called for his attention, and with a foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach he graced it with his gaze.
What he saw first was a glowing chain, enormous chain, but then, seeing hands, he understood that it were handcuffs.
His temples were painfully pulsing against his skull; he hasn't seen everything yet and he was already affected somehow?
Then he saw a giant head, and its face. There were... nine closed eyes. Why did this figure look like it was suffering?
Why did his head hurt seeing those closed eyes?
Were those eyes closed really? Before his eyes flashed an image of the red circle, inside of it black rings with commas were slowly swirling. This orb was the eye... why did it resemble the eye of his father...?
He felt the rising pressure in his head and loud whispers.
It was only whispers, so why did it hurt?
He raised his hands to his ears to block the noise and closed his eyes tightly.
Why couldn't he put away this image? Something was wrong with this statue... it wasn't just a thing...
He had an impression this statue was calling him.
Ten...
It kept repeating in his head... Ten... It was hungry. It was calling. It was so loud, so impatient.
It was sealed.
His head hurt.
"Out of here." He whispered.
His body stumbled back, but he didn't feel it, as he didn't feel the hands catching him from behind.
He wasn't looking anymore, but the strange image did not go away, the giant red spinning eye was still looking at him from above, making him feel uneasy, scared. He shut his eyes tighter, and pressed his palms harder to his ears, but he did not notice the difference, it was still hurting. He could not run away. But he wanted to.
"Away." He whispered again, but it was more like a moan. He didn't hear himself; he wasn't sure if he was still standing or if he was lying with his back on the ground. His whole world was spinning and escaping from under his feet, from his attentiveness and awareness. He didn't want to continue hearing or feeling, because he felt too overwhelmed. He did not care if his wish to run away was a sign of cowardice, because he knew he wouldn't stand such pain anymore, knew that he could barely form a thought...
Madara shook the little body of his son, trying to bring him back to his senses, but the boy continued to mumble incoherently and feverishly, as if he was in a painful trance.
Quickly realizing that the statue had this strange effect on him, the man transported them away.
They reappeared in the room that belonged to Shiru, and he placed the boy on the bed, seeing that the grimace was still disturbingly there, on his face. And then, after calling his name countless of times, he ran the quick diagnosis, trying to find the source of the problem.
It was in the boy's mind, heavily connected to activity in his eyes. The chakra was different there, unordinary, and it scared the man who did not expect this outcome. He was confused.
The boy made an anguish filled sound, curling in himself and burying his head in his knees, and Madara had to still his body with his arms, stopping him from hurting himself. Using force he pulled his knees and head tightly held by palms, apart. Having no other choice but to act quickly, he used one of the few medical techniques he knew, and put the boy into a forced sleep.
Panting, rather in a worry than exhaustion, moments later he observed as even in sleep, Shirushi was tense, rigid, and his brows and lips were creasing.
He swallowed and his eyes ran over the small form of the boy, before he stood up and left to get someone who could understand what took place, and fix it.
Forests of Fire country, late evening
With unreachable speed, figures moved by branches, among the trees. They left no traces and could not be seen by untrained eye.
There were four of them, moving in line. The fourth figure reached the third. They continued to jump. It seemed the group existed separately from surroundings.
They were clothed in black. Their faces were covered by masks. Each of them had a different one, and aside from the colour of their hair, it was the only thing that distinguished them from each other, as their clothing and weaponry were almost the same.
The mask of the fourth figure was that of the leopard, with spots decorating it profoundly. Its colours were dark brown and black. The rim of the eye slits was white.
The mask of the third figure was that of the wolf.
It was dark grey, and surprisingly, seemed to portray the old and lonely traveller.
The sound of leaves full branches shifting in the wind became a whistle in the ears, but the moving figures silently ignored the nature around.
The fourth figure spoke to the third without turning his head away from the view ahead. "We've got rid of the whole family, even the infants." The voice was almost monotone, but what little emotion was there, made it sound casual and alarmingly joyful.
The third figure was quiet. There was no acknowledgement of hearing his partner think aloud.
The fourth figure glanced at the blank, grey mask, trying to catch at least the glimpse of emotion that should have flickered in the eyes. To him, the person beside him was a riddle. No matter how often leopard looked at that mask knowing whose face was behind it, he could not help but feel like it was a hunter, one with instincts to fight alone and instincts to fight in a group. It always reminded him that ninja with this character were independent, and chose their battles themselves. And probably that was a reason why his assignment was to keep an eye on the wolf, and it didn't matter if the wolf was on the mission or inside village walls. Some hunters had potential to become independent, self sufficient, and then completely detached. In the world of shinobi those who didn't need others were a threat, because power gave authority, and authority gave influence. And when numerous figures fought for having a bigger and greater influence, every new threat was quickly eliminated.
Wolf was young, and he was aware of his position, but not quite. His astounding growth and progress stirred the peace of many; too many.
"...I didn't think you'd be capable of such a dirty job. Hokage-sama asked specifically to keep the children alive, but the captain's orders were different." The leopard continued, glancing with red eyes at the ninja moving by his side.
The silence stretched, and the fourth traveller was ready to give up and move to the back of formation, but the wolf answered, coldly and lifelessly.
"Yondaime-sama gives orders to the commanders of the missions. We receive orders from our captains. It is not our place to question the orders of our superior, when he's in the field with us, and Hokage is in his office miles away."
There was a snort from the leopard and his smile, though not seen, was easily felt in the air. The man with the spotted mask could not look under the mask of the wolf though, so he didn't see the conflicting emotions there; he could not look him in the eyes, as the wolf was always looking ahead.
But still, the leopard knew that no matter how hard one tried to seem emotionless, there was always something inside, something that all shinobi try to hide. The problem was, that he had no idea what the wolf was hiding. His apparent coldness and willingness to follow orders of his superiors was commendable, but was it truly all there was to his nature and inner thoughts? "...You're puzzling, my friend. I know that you're capable of caring, but you dare not show it while on missions. It's like you become an entirely different person. Is it because you want to impress your comrades and peers? Or maybe you plan to impress the captain and move farther? Either way, you become a dangerous weapon. Who has control over you? Your clan, your beliefs, or someone else? I start to regret ever agreeing to become your shadow. I feel that I know you less than ever before..."
Inwardly, the fourth figure sighed, doing all in his might to keep his thoughts and reactions to himself, after all, he too, had an image to portray.
The second, grey haired figure glanced behind, and the glimpse of the right side of the mask gave a hint it was a dog, white and accented by red.
The leopard ignored it and whispered. "Your father will be proud of you."
The wolf's emotionless tone replied. "I do what has to be done. What my father thinks does not matter, Shisui."
The dog masked shinobi ignored them, giving a private space to the rest of squad members, but he had a good hearing, and what he heard was not pleasant. Not only had the mission taken unnecessary lives, but it also placed the members in questionable position to make decisions. He had no respect for the captain and considered voicing his opinions, but knew that right now, when he was so close to becoming a captain himself and forming his own squad, he did not need preventable obstacles. Besides, once he was in position to make decisions, he could take other ANBU members with him.
One more time, with calculating yet narrowed gaze, he glanced at the pair behind him.
Ame
If they asked him to look at the statue again, he'd refuse.
If for that he'd have to admit that he was scared of it, he'd do it. Because he did not think he would ever be ready to face it again.
He didn't tell them that he had a feeling this statue knew him. It'd be too strange.
The boy knew that there was something sealed though, and this knowledge scared him even more. And it wasn't because he feared what was inside of it; he did not care what 'ten' meant, what really scared him was the familiarity.
If he would have to place it in words, he'd say that the statue wanted to consume him. Its eye watched him, eyed him like he was prey, and there was excitement, like it had waited for him to come. And he just knew that if it wasn't for handcuffs and a powerful seal over that monster, he'd land in the far greater and deeper troubles than he had experience with before.
After the occurrence he woke up to be questioned and examined by his small family, consisting of his father, Nagato and Konan. He was ashamed of his actions, as he kept half of the truth to himself.
He never expected to have so many secrets.
Sighing with a pout the blond padded to the bathroom. Tentatively, he turned the light on and moved to the mirror.
He placed a small chair to stand on, as he was not tall enough to reach the mirror or the sink properly.
He didn't want anyone to know, but at that moment he was afraid. The silence mocked him and he inwardly wondered once again if he was a coward; after all he was afraid of his own reflection.
Blinking, he slowly raised his gaze and looked at his face. It was framed with blond strands of hairs, the longest of which now reached his shoulders.
He saw his own eyes and instantly interpretations assaulted him, as it always happened when he saw a sign.
Something was sealed there.
Someone has put something inside of his head, inside his eyes. The design showed that his body would slowly consume it, and it showed that no one would be able to unseal it. More so, that something was alive, and if he died, this thing would die with him.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer and explanation to that, because every assumption he came to so far, had terrified him.
Now that he thought of it, his father had no idea about his eyes. Or did he? He was always curious about every little thing Shiru said. It seemed like Shiru was a puzzle for him. If he knew at least as much as the boy knew, he would be attempting unsealing whatever was sealed inside.
He knew his father well enough, to know what to expect from the man who had to satisfy his curiosity and find an answer to every question he had on daily basis. He knew, because in that aspect they were very much alike.
Keeping this a secret was a right decision. It would be better if no one knew. Besides, it wasn't like he was the only one having secrets. Everyone he knew had one, even his father and Konan, who never lied, but did not say everything that was on their minds either...
Konoha, the office room in the department of information gathering and interrogation
The expression on the blonde man's face was one of hurt.
His gaze was filled with pain and sorrow, directed at him and Itachi felt like the Yondaime was seeing him as the one who was harmed.
It was strange.
He knew that Hokage would not view his actions as righteous. He knew that his behaviour could break the trust between them. But he didn't expect the man to pity him. Was his heart weak? Did Hokage think that he was innocent and had to be saved? Because that look was telling as much.
"I did that to make sure the clan would not become suspicious of me. My record is perfect, if I suddenly turned against my superior, it would complicate too many things." He voiced. Why did he feel like he had to justify his actions? He sure did not feel that he was wrong.
With that same look the blond graced the desk and then, with his elbows on it he covered his face with his palms. His skin was turning red, but it was hard to distinguish if it was from anger, some sort of embarrassment or anything else. Nonetheless, Itachi knew that the emotion the man felt was loathing, toward the situation, the mission, the squad, and, above all, self loathing. Most probably, the man could not forgive himself for letting that happen.
Among shinobi ranks, it was well known that the Yondaime had a soft spot, a weakness for children. He made it specifically clear, that no matter how dire the mission became, shinobi could not attack, fight and kill helpless kids.
Many ninja ignored that order, claiming that a kid from the academy had ability to fight and to kill civilians; they also claimed that they didn't want children of their targets growing into adults and coming for revenge in the future. Therefore, shinobi continued eliminating every threat, and if the target was a clan or a family, they cut the throat of an infant, a toddler or a teen without batting an eyelid.
From what he already heard, the captain of the squad was stripped off his rank and severely punished, while the members were questioned by Namikaze himself. But who gave the information? The report was meant to be written and given by commander, and the man would not say a word of their act of cruelty. He himself was questioned now, and if the Hokage didn't already know, he'd have stayed quiet about it too. Shisui, who spilled the blood with well hidden, conflicting emotions in his eyes, wouldn't admit it even under torture.
And that left the vice captain, Hatake Kakashi.
No matter what the rumours about a ruthless one eyed shinobi said, he wasn't just a code and a blade. And as it appeared, he wasn't just a duty and respect.
"I want you to understand that there's more to being human. You may think that sacrificing your humanity and lives of the few innocents in the end will save hundreds, but believe me, if you can't protect even one innocent life, how can you protect two, and if you can't protect five, how can you protect a dozen?" The man spoke without looking up. He uncovered his face and looked at the recently promoted chuunin with a tired, but full of understanding expression.
The blond man saw that Itachi was lost, and after searching his gaze for another moment, sighed. "Life is about making choices. I know it from experience. And I know some choices are hard to make, but I want you to learn and understand, that your superior is not always right." Here the man smiled sadly, "And that goes for me too."
"Do you plan to transfer me again, Hokage-sama?" The teen asked, noticing the new direction of conversation. The last time it happened, he was transferred with Shisui, as both of them were close friends and worked well with each other. But that of course, was not all true.
Minato tapped his chin thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling, as his thoughts reeled with possibilities. "Do you still suspect that Shisui was ordered to spy on you?" The man inquired mumbling. Previously, they decided to let Shisui tag along, hoping to keep Uchiha clan oblivious to Itachi's allegiances. So far, no one suspected Itachi to be anything more than an heir of the clan that was a cold, well trained shinobi.
"I am sure of it, and lately, he also tries to work out my trustworthiness. I do not think that keeping him close any longer would benefit our cause." The teen voiced his opinion and continued to observe as the strongest man in the village stared at the ceiling of the bare, windowless office while childishly tapping his lips.
"You are right, but..." Here Minato finally turned his gaze at Itachi and smiled knowingly, making the Uchiha heir almost fidget in his seat. "If Fugaku and clan elders realize they cannot supervise you and keep track of your movements with Shisui's help, they'd find another source of information, and this time, it could be anyone."
The man sighed with his eyes closed and was quiet for a minute. Itachi got an impression that the man was lost in his own world in the moments like these. "Isn't it better to let them believe that they know you and everything you do, than wake them from their peaceful sleep and give them a chance to place another, new, unknown spy in the group of people surrounding you?"
Itachi blinked, realizing that he wouldn't escape his family anyway. But he didn't say aloud that he preferred a new spy in place of Shisui, than continue playing the game of cat and mouse with his friend.
Ame
As always, the caves were cold and humid, darker than the outside world, but he paid no mind to this, as he silently waited. In his hand was his mask with one eye hole, and he distracted himself, studying it in detail.
Madara contemplatively paced by the foxes that surrounded his son, and hoped that his plan worked in his favour.
One small, bright red fox sat by the boy on the ground and holding a brush dipped in the bowl of prepared ink in its mouth was drawing a tattoo design on the boy's left wrist. Other two, light orange, sat nearby, and were observing the process with their heads tilted.
He summoned them according to the deal he made through Hanare.
The boy himself sat on the ground, watching the proceedings of creating a contract with curiosity. He was quite surprised when his father so suddenly informed him about having a contract with animals, and foxes no less. They were cute, fluffy, and had a glint in their eyes telling him they were very smart. It was strange that they ignored his father and behaved almost hostilely toward him, but he didn't ask questions, his father would tell him all he needed to know.
The boy furrowed his brows, thinking about the coming month he'd be spending in the company of summons. It was a bit sudden for him and he wondered if there was more to him leaving. Maybe his dad had important things to do and wanted to make sure he was safe?
His gaze occasionally travelled to his silent father, wondering what the man was thinking about that made him so nervous and restless. He could say that his father was plotting something, but as he could not read minds, he had a hard time guessing the man's intentions.
If Madara was correct in his assumptions and planning, he would change his son harmlessly and imperceptibly.
The boy was still just a child, treating the world of shinobi like it was a game, and running away from things he was scared of. He did not treat his training seriously nor did he understand the importance of the role he would play in the organization.
Even Nagato knew that Shiru revealed only half of what happened when he faced the statue, and the way the boy kept quiet about things that were meant to be said both irritated and worried Madara.
So the tactic Madara chose was simple.
At first he would send him with the clan of foxes to their territory in the world of summons; it would help the boy get over his shock at seeing the Demon Statue and distract him from his life involving Akatsuki. The summons promised to teach him and protect him, and inwardly the man hoped they would not try to turn Shirushi against him.
That was just a first step of his plan, and once the boy was back, he would carefully proceed with the next...
A short time later, Konoha
Not in a hurry, or in the mood to socialize with other people, Itachi slowly walked in direction of the district, alone, opting to go through the training ground he remembered using sometime before he became a chuunin.
The conversation he had with the Yondaime was still heavily on his mind and he unwillingly started to ask himself questions. Like why what he thought was always different from what he was doing.
He couldn't remember when it started, but since he could remember, he always knew that if he said aloud what he thought, people would not accept it. They would not accept his opinion of things, his wish to stay away from the blood of battles, his mistrust to family members, his distaste and disgust of politics. He created his shell of himself for them, to make them believe, that he was just like them. He could not share with his truths with anyone, even his younger brother, who seemed so pure and yet, was slowly becoming a puppet in the hands of their father. The man so wisely pushed Sasuke away, to make him crave for his attention more; and the boy was crossing the limits of his abilities to please the man.
And in his lonely dark world he found a ray of light, someone, who gave him a shimmer of hope; someone who was above the fuss, the filth, the rumours, deception and lies; someone stronger, wiser and more experienced.
Finally there was someone he didn't have to deceive, and could show his true face to. The man was giving him new views, ideals, truths and reasons, but he did not let him out of his mask, and Itachi was forced to be someone else, wherever he was, whatever he was doing outside of that office, and outside of his thoughts. And only in his thoughts he was free.
Maybe that was why he was appalled with idea of someone gaining access to his thoughts. Yamanaka clan was known for their ability to manage such a thing and he never wanted its members to become his enemies. But even so, a carefully placed genjutsu of the highest calibre from Uchiha could be just as dangerous.
Never before, since he became a spy, was he so thankful for the skill to easily detect and break illusions.
"You do not look like you're in a hurry to get back home. Why is it so?" The voice spoke from above, and Itachi stopped.
He knew that he was observed and followed for some time, but did not expect his stalker to reveal himself. Here we go. The teen tilted his head to look behind and above his shoulder with his crimson eyes, to see a man sitting happily on the tree branch. He wiggled his legs in a strangely hyperactive manner, staring down at him. His clothing was dark, with only things worth mentioning being a black cloak with red, puffy clouds, and a mask, dark brown with black lines, and suspiciously, one hole for an eye.
When he did not reply the man made some gesticulations and continued, as if it dawned upon him. "Oh, maybe you do not practically want to be there? Is your family a burden to you, Itachi?"
The teen narrowed his gaze, trying to put the voice, mannerisms or a physical build of the man somewhere, but came up with nothing. He saw this man for a first time, and it was strange that he hadn't met this shinobi, from this village, even once. Assuming that he was from Konoha, of course, but who would infiltrate the village to announce their presence in such a way?
The man's words finally reached him and Itachi frowned. "Who are you?"
The man laughed joyfully and then moved his index finger in deviation. "No, no, no, you can't ask questions like that! First you have to answer mine!"
For a reason unknown, Itachi felt annoyed.
"Oh? Is that a famous Uchiha glare I see?" The man singed the sentence, clearly showing that he didn't care if his attitude would threaten his life.
The teen stayed quiet, disturbed by the strange rules of the conversation and irritated with the man's behaviour. He was not in the mood to play a game with words and he would not answer the questions of some stranger.
"You're no fun!" The masked man seemed to pout and leaned his head on the palm of his right hand. "I wanted to play and you ruined my day!"
Suspicious of the man, Itachi narrowed his eyes and wondered if he could just walk away. He didn't know who it was and could ignore him, but still, what if it was a trespasser? And then, if he was, why show himself?
"You're so confused by me, while you have to be confused about yourself. Why do you spy on your own clan, hmmm?" The man inquired in a tone that sounded like he smiled beneath the mask, but all his friendly manners did not stop Itachi from widening his eyes and freezing in shock. "You'd think that the heir of the clan would be more careful about betraying anyone, but I guess, you're still too young and too weak to manage that."
"What do you mean, since when do you follow me?" The teen regained control over his voice but his insides were in turmoil. He took a fighting stance, prepared to battle, but it did not affect the stranger, he continued to lazily sit on the tree.
"You don't have to worry about me getting involved, my allegiance is to me only," the man tilted his head. "I am just an observer."
Straightening and slowly lowering his hands, Itachi frowned at the man, but realized that he was not in the danger, not yet; nonetheless, he was ready to defend himself if the man decided to attack. "What do you want?"
"Questions again? You don't play fa-air..." The man sighed dramatically and then leaned down and placed his right hand to the lower part of his mask, as if he tried to cover his mouth while whispering. The teen watched his antics trying to hide his emotions behind a stoic face. "I want to tell you a secret." The man whispered. Dramatically again, as if he played a childish game, the man looked around, as if making sure no one was around to hear them.
A moment later he repeated the action with his whispering manner and Itachi unwillingly listened with attention. "Did you know that to obtain the next level of Sharingan you have to kill your best friend?"
For a moment the world around Itachi turned deadly silent, and all he could hear was his wildly beating heart, and a minute later, the quiet, and mad laughing from the unknown man.
A. N. I want you to remember that Itachi is not the missing nin you all know from the original manga. He's young, influenced by Yondaime, and I do not plan to keep him entirely in character.