Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.
A shout-out to my super awesome beta Coffeepills. Thank you so much! Here is a nice big chapter to help make up for the long wait. If you care for an explanation as to why it is at the bottom. Hope you enjoy it!
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE CROW AND HIS PLOTTING
It is something of a mystery to me that in all I have done, nothing has truly gone wrong. I am meticulous man by nature and thus, prepare as needed yet so much remains in the hands of those I do not trust. Was the motivation strong enough? The bait I am dangling too tempting to resist? My observations and analysis inform me that they should but not everyone does what they should. One choice, one simple unlucky draw of the hat and I will be left relying on plan b or c. The uncertainty of it leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth. Trust in others is a distasteful reality of life.
Trust comes in many forms. My sweet little brother, asleep in the room over, trusts me in all manner for he knows nothing else. I on the other hand, have seen far more than one of my age should have. As such I trust only as far as I have been given proof. The evidence laid so clearly in my mind speaks of a pattern, of greed festering in those around me. Untamed, growing greed. No amount of planning or perfectly laid bait will matter if my judgment is incorrect. One of these days my assumption of their desire will fail me. When that happens, I only pray everything does not fall apart. I cannot live without Sasuke. He is the only reason I am still alive.
Fluorescent blue light blinks in front me, reminding my tired brain that I am sitting at my desk in my office, the computer screen displaying the layout of an art museum Pein wanted…rearranged. I sigh and let my fingers massage between my eyes. It is early and I did not slept much last night.
What little sleep I managed to catch was plagued by worry. My dearest little brother has begun expiating strange behavior. Sasuke will be overly affectionate then bounce off, happily leaving me alone. If that wasn't odd enough as a single incident, he retired late to bed tonight. He has been staying up far later than usual to work on a new piece than ever before. Clearly it has been done in an effort to hide the picture from me. He even went as far as to cover the mentioned piece with another canvas.
His simple attempts are naturally futile. I have seen the unfinished work. I do not like it. Sasuke only knows what I have approved for him to. All the books I purchase for him have been read and assessed before they enter the home. It would not do for him to get curious about things he has no need of. As such his world is kept limited and safe, thus his paintings predictable.
The brilliant orange and yellow fox he is taking such pains to keep secret is not predictable. It is a magnificent work of art, the colors vibrant—almost alive. It is an animal but the piercing blue eyes seem almost human, as if I have seen them before. He often draws animals but this picture is different. I cannot give examples for the reasoning behind the difference but it is there. He is a representative artist. This means something and I have a feeling it is not good.
The painting aside, Sasuke has been secretive as of late. I assume it has something to do with his missing practice knives. He has not mentioned them but I noticed their absence earlier. I will have to spend time tomorrow looking into it. For now, Pein has a job he wants done. Unfortunately my work for him has to come first. In time that will change but for now Kisame is waiting for me at the usual place. From there we will rendezvous with Sasori at the museum. If everything goes as planned perhaps I will be back for lunch with Sasuke.
Kisame is waiting for me outside the old bakery as I have asked. It is a dismal sort of place in the area of town where law is decided by power rather than justice. Twisted worn, wrought iron fencing made a porch out front of the ruined red bakery. What was once beautiful tiled round tables sit forgotten and broken across the picked square. The building's roof was caved in long ago, the windows broken and the chairs stolen. This bakery was an early causality of an old battle, forgotten and ignored. Kisame and I often meet here before continuing on to our target. I am comfortable here among all the broken things.
Kisame has found a low round, intact table to sit on. In his mouth is the usual large cigar, both of his tommy-guns casually propped up against his legs. Noticing my approach he removes the cigar to smile wide, his sharp teeth shining against his black skin.
"Good evening Mr. Itachi. What fun do we have planned for tonight?" His eyes pass over me, searching I am sure for my usual sniper rifle. Finding the arishika missing his smile widens, already excited. "More fun for me than you it seems."
Having reached him I take a seat in small stable chair next to his table. We sit there a moment looking out at the city. It is a gray place, especially this far into the slums. Broken stores and gang violence are common place. Was common place, I suppose as I observe the empty streets. Akatsuki rules this section of town; violence only happens now when we want it to. Men and families still live here I am told. I have not personally seen them, not since the first year of our founding.
Out here, in our Akatsuki cloaks, we are known. Not by our names of course or even our faces really; just the deep red clouds. These symbols of power must keep what few live here hiding in their homes. The bloodshed and rapid territorial growth Akatsuki has shown this city have earned our little group quite the reputation. We are the judge and jury both—bullets in the hand of our supposed God.
Years of operation and yet the police are baffled concerning Akatsuki. Perhaps fear keeps them from wandering into this section of town. Akatsuki may be few but Pein has ensured that those who happen to know us are to remain silent. Unless of course, they wish a painful death.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch the ash from Kisame's cigar flutter to the ground. For a man who loves to kill and destroy Kisame is a relaxed individual. In the years I have known him he has yet to explode or react in emotion, regardless of the situation. I have relied upon this ability of his on numerous missions and today I again, trust him to react as predicted.
"Kisame," I announce simply, "I need you to die."
Beside me Kisame laughs. "Do you now Mr. Itachi? And why would you need me to do that?"
"Because," I say slowly. "Pein is only the bait and I will need you to help me kill the bigger fish. For that, I need you to die."
He takes a long drag of his cigar, smoke bellowing out between his lips. "I assume you have a plan for this?"
"When do I not?"
Kisame chuckles, cigar shaking in-between his lips. "Good point. Okay, Mr. Itachi. I trust you. Just tell me what to do."
I slip my hand into a pocket of my cloak to retrieve a small notecard and a copied portion of the museum's layout. Silently I hold it out for him to take.
He takes the paper and looks it over before beginning to tear it up. "By the way," he says offhanded. "How is little Sasuke doing?"
"He is well. Behaving strangely lately however. Avoiding me and hiding things. I have not seen such actions from him since before puberty. Something is going on with him but no matter, it will be dealt with."
Evidence disposed of he stands. Dropping his cigar onto the dirty concrete Kisame drops his black boot atop it, grinding the ashes into the blacken cement. His eyes still watching the repetitive motion of his foot he braves another opinion. "And that Mr. Itachi, is why I don't want to be on your bad side." With a rueful shake of his head he abandons the now demolished cigar. Bending down he picks up his tommy gun, taking a few moments to secure the gun under his cloak.
"You give me too much credit Kisame." I too rise, content to move on with the night.
"I sincerely doubt that Mr. Itachi. As long as you have little Sasuke I doubt God himself could kill you."
I look at him, our eyes meeting for a moment. He sincerely believes what he has said to me. Where his confidence stemmed from is unknown to me. I am not all powerful. My flaws are real, my inadequacies evident in my very presence this night. If I was as perfect as those around me seem to believe I would have had no need for Pein all those years ago. I would have figured a way out this mess before now. Before Sasuke began doubting me.
"For my brother's sake, I sincerely hope you are correct." Perhaps my plan had failed, my blabbering useless. Kisame spoke as if he knew how much Sasuke' safety means to me. I have tried passing him off as a fancy, a toy. Not my heart; my weakness. Perhaps I am overthinking things. I pray I am. "Come, Sasori is waiting."
Our latest target is a well-known meeting place among the wealthy. As such the building is a grand white bricked structure with two floors and a flat, modern roof. Like many in the city the museum is squished up against other commercial buildings, creating a labyrinth of alleys where unsavory characters such as ourselves can thrive.
We find Sasori in one such alley a building over, hunched over a pile of bottles. As usual Sasori does not bother with greetings. "Pein wants us to be seen. He couldn't care less what we take or destroy. Just catch their attention. Leave a tag or two."
"Our time limit?" Kisame asks.
Sasori lifts up a couple bottles and shakes them. His brown eyes stare at the bubbles forming for a minute before answering. "Ten minutes. Can you manage?"
"Of course," I answer, surprised he is bothering to voice concern. We frequently work within time restrictions; it has never been an issue before. Why does he feel the need to ask me? Perhaps it is meant to be a joke. One can never really tell with Sasori.
He finishes shaking the bottle, quickly placing it in a small pouch at his waist. Sasori rises from his crouched position to stand next to us, already holding several small purple bottles out to both Kisame and myself.
We take them, recognizing the bubbling liquid to be Sasori's metal-eating acid. As it is with all of us in Akatsuki, Sasori's skills are unrivaled in his respective field. Pein would not have allowed someone mediocre to join him. Though like Deidara, Sasori prefers to think of himself as an artist rather than his actual profession: a chemist. I do not understand the need for a title. We are what we are. No name can change that.
"What is the radius for our gas coverage?" I ask, the map up in my mind running through possible routes we could take to accomplish Pein's goal.
"Two blocks. We are to rendezvous in at Kage Summit, third floor room six. Can we start now? I don't want to wait any longer."
Typical Sasori. Now properly prepared we walk the short meter to one of the museums back doors. There are no guards, just cameras. Drawing the gun at my side I take aim at the small black box poking out of one corner before firing. As soon as we see the equipment begin short-circuiting we dash forward to where it fell. Assured the broken camera is no threat we focus on entering the building.
"Kisame, if you would be so kind," I gesture to the locked wooden door in front of us.
Kisame grins. Raising his leg he kicks out, splintering the door with the force of his kick. We watch it collapse, bending over on itself. Another kick removes the door completely, sending it toppling into the building. The alarm breaks out in a blaring repetitive beep around us, accompanied by the screams of confused patrons. Our time is starting.
We enter a hallway in a swift walk. Beside me I hear Kisame draw both of his tommy-guns, resting them butt-end against his thigh as we wait for Sasori to handle the steel door in front of us. There is a soft hiss that informs me of Sasori's chemicals beginning their work. The screaming inside has already reached a high point. We are only a minute into the operation and the fear is already so thick. It will be an easy night.
"Do you need back up?" Kisame asks lightly, giving me a toothy smile before pulling out his festival mask. He slides it onto his face. A blue-skinned shark grins back at me.
I check the 9 mil in my hand, clicking a full magazine into place. "No, I will be fine. Just take care of the general populace. I will handle the policemen." I have placed my own mask on now. It is one of the few things Pein let us decide on. For some reason he felt it was important we picked our own creature to represent. Kisame, a shark. Sasori, a wooden doll. I have taken mine from one of Sasuke's earliest drawings of me: a crow. It seemed fitting.
Sasori steps away from the door revealing the melted handles. "We are in," Sasori announces, pushing the door open to let us move in front of him.
The museum opens before us. From the back entrance we have arrived through, the first exhibit appears to have recently held a small private party. It is hard to tell as most of the patrons have fled the room upon hearing the alarm. Discarded champagne glasses dot the pristine tiled floor. The monotony of the scene broken only by the small, expensively clad woman in front of us. She appears to be busy attempting to stuff a palm sized ruby down her dress.
Her eyes widen, hands stilling their attempt, as they land on Kisame, taking in immediately the tommy-gun held in each hand. With a scream she drops the ruby and runs out toward the main entrance.
Eight minutes left. Sasori calmly walks over to ruby, pocketing it. Before rising again he places several small wooden dolls in the corners of the entryway. They are brown with glassy eyes and a tuft of green hair. I recognize them immediately. They are clever, automated puppets that will leak poisonous gas at a set rate. I do not doubt the timing to be accurate to the typical police response. As I said, Pein does not hire mediocre.
If we wished to be seen we need to increase our movement speed. I do not have to voice my observation as the others break into a run the same moment I do. When not preforming assassinations Sasori is a frequent partner in Kisame and I's assignments. Over the years the three of us have learned to anticipate actions our associates will take. There is no comradery among the Akatsuki members. That does not however mean that we are poor team players.
As we turn the corner and into the next exhibit Sasori jumps in front of me, throwing several little green bottles onto the ground ahead. A gas breaks out in time to catch several policemen as they enter the room. From elsewhere in the museum we hear the coughing of the remainder of the police force. Akatsuki is a notorious, vain organization. If we truly desired to simply accomplish our goals we would not bother trademark cloaks and masks. No, we wanted to be known. Feared.
Satisfied Kisame has this handled I run ahead. I hear the tell-tale echoing of his guns firing behind me. He will be the distraction tonight, drawing the attention Pein desired. Sasori would be looting what art he deemed worth saving, perhaps placing a large red cloud or two somewhere noticeable. He did enjoy showing off.
I have my 9 mil in my hand, under my cloak ready to fire if the need arises. Unlike Kisame however, I do not enjoy killing. It may be necessary at the moment but in the future, when all this ended, I would not miss it. My role this night is simple: ensure an escape route.
The police able to resist the gas have caught up to me. They probably took the northern route here. Four minutes left. I raise my gun, firing before swiftly reaming, firing once more.
I cannot remember the first time I held a gun. It seemed at moments, that I was born holding one. The feeling of a steel butt, the rick shay, the noise—all of it is familiar, easy. Two more policemen, two more shots. I do not kill them. There is no need. When Kisame catches up to me I have confidence in him to not finish the men off. He has worked with me long enough to trust I have handled the situation.
Two minutes. I take a left turn, already beginning the escape route. Sasuke would be so sad if he knew what we were doing to this museum. He treasured art. Perhaps I would pick him up that piece he had been taking about. A surprise gift. He would enjoy that. Knowing Sasori he would have all worth-while art works safely stowed away for later retrieval. I will get one from him later.
Another brave policemen done. One minute.
I finish climbing the stairs leading to the roof. Grabbing the brown vial I received from Sasori earlier I pour the liquid atop the metal handle. Not bothering to wait for the acid to finish doing its job I kick at the door several times before it finally gives, swinging wide.
Thirty seconds. I hear footsteps of both my teammates on the metal stairs assuring me they will join me shortly. Sure enough Kisame has closed the distance and is standing next to me now, his cloak more red than black. "Alrighty, time to go. Sasori is right behind me. He insisted on grabbing this weird mountain face thing."
I give him a swift nod, reassuring him that I have everything under control.
Below us on the streets we see the hazy purple gas of Sasori's bellowing out around the museum. Two blocks Sasori had said. I look north, seeing the pointy peaks of Snow Apartments a mere three blocks from our gas radius. Running over to the left I inspect the board sitting on the rooftop. It would do.
"Kisame, this one."
He is next to me and easily drops it down in-between the museum and the neighboring law firm. In that instant, as he quickly adjusts the board atop the roof, a flash of silver and grey jumps out, knife in hand. The assailant is covered in black combat clothing, his hair, siliver and spiky pokes out from behind a dog faced festival mask. He must realize he is the intended target, for Kisame turns to shoot but stumbles, his gun firing at the ground instead of the man landing atop him.
Sasori has joined us now. He has several rolls of canvas tucked under one arm, the odd sculpture mentioned by Kisame in another. He does not seem bothered by what is transpiring but his eyes are on the scene unfolding in between us.
Kisame groans as the knife sinks into his chest. My hand as already risen to shoot at the assailant, my finger on the trigger. I see the assailant eyes widen from behind the mask as my gun sends a bullet into his shoulder.
My attempt to help does little as I realize the exchange has forced Kisame to lose his balance. Weakened by the wound in his chest his feet stumble with the weight of the man, carrying them both to the edge of the roof. I watch wordlessly as the edge of Kisames big combat boots dips down, sending both backward. It happens instantly. With a cry they both begin a slow tumble down into the purple haze engulfing the alleyways.
By this time Sasori has joined me and we watch uncaring as they continue their tumble, vanishing from sight. "That was unexpected," he says lightly.
"Very."
Not bothering to confirm his death we both finish walking across the plank. Once safely on the other side I kick the wood board down into the alley. Sasori has already began climbing down the emergency staircase of the building when I join him.
On the street around us we hear the coughing and weaving of the policemen. Sasori's gas is a thick green cloud hanging off everything around us. I lead the way, careful to avoid the policemen crawling around the sidewalk. Sasori has not prepared such an extensive gas before. The police may be predominately dirty but next time they will bring masks. For now, they are too busy gasping for air to bother chasing us, assuming they could see in the fog.
Our festival masks however, are well equipped to work with the gas. After all, we could not go about robbing and killing people if we were too busy coughing.
Once outside the gas radius we begin the standard discarding of evidence. The outer shell of our cloaks are unzipped and tossed in a large garbage bin, the masks safely tucked away and hidden under the now normal black raincoat. Sasori's trophies for the night have all been carefully placed in a sports duffle bag now slung over one shoulder.
No one bothers to say anything as we calmly enter the apartment building. We must look remarkably normal. Sasori's red hair a tad unusual for a Japanese man but his youthful features could pass him off as a rebellious teenager. I am not well-known enough to connect my face to my name so it is without incident we arrive at our destination.
Room six on the third floor is emptied as promised. If there had been previous occupants it is impossible to tell. The room is like many others in the city; uncomfortable queen beds in the back looking over the city, reclining leather chairs centered around a polished wood coffee table. An executive suite. Sasori must have picked the room.
Taking the cream recliner I set about dismantling my guns. Sasori has pulled out a black suitcase from under the coffee table and is busy arranging his stolen pieces inside of it.
"May I have one of them?" I ask, catching the sight of a traditional Japanese painting.
He gives me an odd glance but wordlessly hands the painting over. "For you brother?" he asks.
I nod, reaching under the coffee table to retrieve a suitcase of my own. Clicking it open I place the painting in carefully. The guns will go nestled in their foam shapes atop it once cleaned.
"Is that what he does all day? Paint?"
"Somedays. How Sasuke chooses to occupy his time is entirely up to him. If you must know he reads as well. Though painting appears to be his passion."
It is rare for Sasori to inquire about my life. He has been behaving strangely since Deidara's death. He will stare at me at the oddest moments, undeterred when I stare back. Topics he had not previously bothered to bring up will appear in our conversations. Have I done something in particular to provoke his interest? From what I have observed he had not been close to Deidara. In light of that I doubt the man is after revenge. Did he then, wish to make me a part of his collection or is he simply wary, pondering my next move.
Sasori says nothing else and we sit there, content to wait until the sirens have died down. Pein will join us once the fuss of the day has decreased to a handful police cars. The man is well-known, his appearance unmistakable and thus, restricted to when he wanders out of controlled territory. Until he joins us it is a waiting game.
"I suppose we will have to inform Pein of Kisame's disappearance," Sasori says calmly.
"Death," I correct, letting my head fall against the cream recliner I sit in. "I saw where the knife entered. He will not be returning."
There is something in his eyes that speaks of amusement. Sasori always seems to find the oddest things comical.
I open my eyes momentarily to look at him. "Sasori."
He has not moved his gaze from my figure. He continues to stare, waiting patiently for me to continue.
"My brother would like a teacher. I can pay you four hundred thousand yen a season, twice a week. Are you interested?"
Sasori's brown eyes shift as they process the information I have given him. Slowly he sits up from the couch to give me his full attention. "What medium?" he asks.
"Canvas painting."
"I am familiar with it. In light of your brother's…unique situation, I assume you will be present for the lessons?"
"Of course."
"I am surprised you are willing to allow me to see him. Why?"
He does trust me for which I do not blame him. Despite being done in self-defense I have killed his partner. I shrug, hoping to put him at ease. "I love my brother. If I can get it for him, I do. He wants a teacher. I want him to have the best."
Sasori and I sit there for several minutes while he processes the offer. Four hundred thousand wasn't much compared to what we were given for the jobs we do for Pein but it is extra money. Unlike myself I know Sasori does not have a day job. Most of the Akatsuki's don't. Unfortunately for myself Pein requires certain legal angles I get through my profession and thus, requires I be employed. Even though we can afford it I am unable to spend all my time with Sasuke. That will change. Soon, I remind myself. I have to be patient.
There is nowhere to go, the sounds of the investigation still loud and clear outside the window. Sasori will have to answer my question. As a rule the man does not like keeping people waiting. The fact that he is still mulling my offer over adds to his recent uncharacteristic behavior. Something has peaked his interest. The question remains; is it myself or Sasuke?
"Five hundred thousand, three hours. Evenings Monday and Thursday," Sasori says finally, his eyes not once leaving my own. Once he sees my nod he continues with what I assume are his conditions. "I will meet you at Peins' office. Do not keep me waiting, you know how much I dislike such behavior. I will not go blindfolded Itachi." His lips twitch into a smile. "Are you willing to show me where you keep your precious doll?"
I do not particularly like Sasori nor do I like what he chooses to do with things he finds beautiful. This, no matter how unpleasant, is unfortunately necessary. All of it is necessary. All for Sasuke. I return Sasori's intense gaze with one of my own.
"I would not have asked if I wasn't."
Sasuke was indeed, delighted with the painting I gave to him. The boy was grinning the rest of the night and the first time in a solid week he ignored his paints in favor of pestering me for my time. It was pleasant to receive his attention once again. It was selfish of myself but I chose to withhold the news of his lesson until today, knowing the announcement would prolong the attention.
"I got you a teacher Sasuke,"
Sasuke is standing in front of the stove working on our breakfast when he hears my words. With a start the thin salt shaker in his hands slips out into the pan of eggs as his hands open in shock. Expressive black eyes widen and the biggest smile I have seen in months appears on this face, threatening to tear his face apart with the energy of his happiness.
"Seriously? No way!"
Breakfast forgotten he sprints over to hover across the table am sitting at. With far more force than needed he thrusts his hands on top it. "When? Who?" he demands. He does not bother to ask where. The idea of leaving the house has long since been drilled out of him.
"Tonight, roughly five o'clock. His name is Sasori. I trust you to treat him properly."
Sasuke nods several times before throwing his arms around my neck. I feel his nose nuzzle into my suit jacket. Gentle and soft spikes of his hair brush against the side of my face. Inhaling deeply I let my hands thread themselves into his hair. "I am glad you are excited Sasuke."
I love the scent of him. Lifting the hand not committed to his hair I gently place it under his chin. With a gentle tug I pull him into a kiss, relishing the feel of his lips atop mine. I can feel the heat of him as he moves around to climb onto my lap. Teasingly his hands move down my back, settling finally atop my hips.
"Sasuke, I have work," I remind him as I feel his hands slide underneath my shirt.
In between kisses against my neck he manages to speak. "Itachi," a kiss against my Adam's apple. "You started it." His lips began travelling down my collarbone. "Besides," he looks up at me, those beautiful eyes alight with the mischief I so closely associate with my little brother. "I know you are your own boss. You can go to work late today."
I find myself shaking my head softly, the laugh I knew has been threatening to come loose breaking out in chuckles. "I see. Are you my employer then?" I ask teasingly.
Sasuke grins as he begins undoing the buttons on my silver shirt. "I can be." He reaches to pull off his own t-shirt, discarding it to the floor beside my chair. "Besides, you know having sex with me is much better than going to work."
I let my eyes appreciate the view of him. Out of concern for his safety I have been teaching my brother martial arts for the last eight years. Though presently we spar only a few times a week he has kept the practice up on his own time. It showed in the build of his abs and his arms. He is beautiful; perfection. There is no hesitancy to his actions, no sin marring his pure intentions. If someone else were to find him, see him in all his innocent glory they will surely corrupt him. He cannot leave. I must make sure of it.
"You have convinced me. The office will have to wait." I let my hands trail along the muscles of his stomach up towards his face. Beneath my hands I feel him shiver. A sense of possession grips me as I pull him into another deep kiss. No one else has touched him. I am the person he wakes thinking of and the man he goes to bed thinking about. I am his every thought—his every emotion. I am behind his every decision. I am everything to Sasuke.
As we move to the couch in his studio I wonder if he knows that as he exists for me, I exist for him. He is everything I see. He always will be.
After all, isn't that what makes a weakness?
So...yeah, it has been a while but I have a beta now! I was waiting here on while I got the story caught up on archiveofourown. Should be pretty steady updates unless life gets in the way too much. It is 5,500 words though :D The chapters keep getting longer...
