It appeared that my brilliant scheme was coming together nicely. Kisame was now assisting me in battle, our shifts had been shortened for each other's convenience, and most of all, I'd shown Kisame a display of trust.

When my partner gave me the riceball, I was more than a bit wary. Perhaps Kisame had not forgotten the wheat incident, and was preparing to take his ironic revenge! Biting back my distrust and a hiss, I ingested the food. To my relief, it was both delicious and nontoxic.

Kisame's shock at my actions did not surprise me. I did not trust people; moreover, I let Kisame know on a near daily basis, through gestures or words, that I most certainly did not trust him. The fact that my partner didn't faint was probably the most surprising thing of all.

I knew what would happen next. After realizing that no, I was not going out of my sadistic little mind, Kisame would come to the conclusion that I was beginning to trust him. I'd show more displays of loyalty, carefully spaced out over the course of weeks or months, and soon enough, he'd return the gesture. Eventually, I would move in, show actual affection, and get him to return my "feelings", at which point in time, the one and only threat to my existence would become putty in the palm of my hand, ready to be crushed or molded as I saw fit to form him!

Sorry, I got a bit carried away there.

In any case, I should get back to the story. Now, after Kisame and I returned to the forest path, we made a relatively uneventful trip back to the base. Once there, I quickly made our report, turned it in to Sir Leader, and went to our room. Kisame was already there, cleaning his sword at the foot of the bed. I said nothing; instead, I silently walked over to my dresser and picked up a book resting on top. I only had about a dozen works of literature, and they were the only written works in this entire base, unless you count mission reports or the labels on cereal boxes. Needless to say, I'd all but memorized every line in my books, and could easily quote each one verbatim, but I still liked to read them every now and again.

Besides, Kisame would no doubt believe I was actually reading a book, so his attention would remain focused on Samehada, thus allowing me a chance to watch him and plot my next move.

For a time, all was quiet. Occasionally, I'd turn a page in the book I wasn't really reading, and Kisame would mumble something under his breath. No doubt it was an obscenity about the flesh still clinging to his sword.

I suppose he grew tired of the silence, because he suddenly halted his cleaning, turned to look at me, and asked, "Itachi, why are you so sadistic?"

Out of the thousands of questions I'd expect to ever hear my partner voice, this was not one of them.

I blinked at him, once, twice, while my mind struggled to find the answer. A few seconds more, and I replied, "Why are you blue?"

No it was his turn to give me a look of sheer disbelief, as if trying to figure out if I had honestly just asked that question. Eventually though, he snorted, and turned to his sword again, grinning while he cleansed it. "That's not something I can help, Itachi."

"My sadistic intentions are the same," I replied. It was true; I didn't ask to be cruel, and I didn't decide that I would get the most joy in life from seeing another in pain. That's just how I am.

And if you have a problem with that, I will not hesitate to cut open your stomach, tear out a few feet of your lower intestine, and strangle you to death as you scream in agony.

As I sat there, thinking about this, a new thought occurred to me. Kisame had just asked me a question about…me. Not my fighting techniques or personal history, but a direct inquiry as to what it was that made me me. No one, not even my own flesh and blood in Konoha, had ever bothered to venture into the uncharted territory of my innermost being.

What did this mean? Was Kisame actually interested in me? Could the shark be attempting to chisel away at the wall that I'd worked so hard to construct between us, and was now trying for some form of friendship?

I inwardly grinned at the thought. If that was indeed the case, my plan was finally coming to fruition. My attempts were not in vain, and finally, he's seeing my movements not as the deranged actions of a psychopath who's finally gone off the deep end, but as a person trying for companionship.

The fool was playing right into my hands. I merely needed to offer up more bait, and draw him in, before snapping my trap and gaining victory at long last.

I know, I overused metaphors again. What are you going to do about it?