Chapter 19 – Darkly Dreaming

What is life?

Pain.

His sharingan bright red, like the blood which had awakened it. Like the blood that fed it, like the chakra that sustained it. Red within and without, as if his entire being were a wound that would not close.

"Itachi."

Akane. Even her name was red.

His eyelids fluttered open at the sound of her voice, but the light was too bright, the pain it brought, too much. He slipped back into the shadows of his heart, curling in against himself. Back to sleep. Back into nothingness.

Still burning up. Akane pulled her hand back. She dipped the towel in iced water and wrung out the excess before placing it back on his forehead. Chakra surged into her hands, gently glowing against his abdomen, where a hematoma was forming. She delved into the tissue, breaking down the coagulated blood to speed up its reabsorption and repairing the damaged blood vessels. If only all hurts were this easy to treat.

"Just how powerful was that genjutsu?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen, where Shisui was unenthusiastically picking at his stir-fry.

His eyes darted to the clock ticking on the wall. It was late in the afternoon, and Konoha was already suffused in darkness. "It should have worn off by now." Had he overestimated Itachi and made the genjutsu too powerful for fear he would fight it? Possibly. He was a user of illusionary techniques himself. If he had been well, he would have countered it without blinking an eye. Still, Shisui could not help but wonder. "Why does it matter? You said he needed rest."

"A genjutsu-induced sleep is more like a forceful coma. I wouldn't call that restful."

"I've never thought about it like that," he said, pushing aside a green bean. How badly did I fuck up? And to think he had once considered knocking Itachi out the same way during his last bout of insomnia. "Is he going to be alright?"

Akane appeared to be done grinding things to dust and was now measuring and mixing. The whole kitchen smelled of herbs, and it was so pungent it made him sneeze every now and again. "The fever will break once he takes this," she said. "It should also help with the pain."

"You can't do anything about that?"

He was not remarking on her abilities or lack thereof this time, she noted. Shisui seemed genuinely surprised, beyond his understandable concern. "I'm not a miracle worker," she said, a hint of regret slipping into her voice. "It's either fight the cause of the pain or infuse chakra continually to numb it. With the underlying cause being infection, I need medicine to counter that before I can start repairing the damage it's done."

Shisui said nothing. His own experience in the medical field did not extend beyond cleaning a wound, the occasional stitch, and using bandages. Maybe he could stop a moderate bleeding, if it came down to it. For the first time, however, it struck him as pitiful that he knew a thousand ways to kill someone and not one means to keep death at bay. We are only as strong as our weakest point, he thought dejectedly.

What is a shinobi?

The sky above him was red, with black clouds. They swirled to form the kanji across the heavens, and he could feel its imprint burning against his soul, etched in pain and blood. A blade upon the heart. Hard-hearted. One who endures.

I can't.

A silhouette formed in the distance, born of the shadows at the edge of his mind. A man, swathed in a black cloak with red clouds. His instincts screamed and he lunged towards the figure, but when it turned around to face him, it was not Suisen's face he saw.

Aniki.

The blood curdled in his veins at the sight of his little brother. Older, harder, colder. Darker. Red eyes staring at him, staring into his soul, yet still blind to the pain tearing him apart from the inside out.

His heart screamed. Why can't you see?

Sasuke's face remained impassive. His lips did not move, but his voice echoed across the empty space. You won't let me.

Dead bodies littered the ground around him, all staring at Itachi with cold, glazed eyes. Unseeing. Unfeeling. Their mouths were open in a silent scream, the Konoha plate on their hitai-ate stained with blood. Their fingers pointed to their killer.

What have you done, Sasuke?

Itachi's gaze fell upon the sword thrust into the ground between them. A thread of blood trickled down along the edge, glinting in the eerie light. His hands suddenly felt clammy and slick. He looked at them and the blood was all over them, too, warm and thick.

No. No. No, no, no…

Sasuke was down on the ground now, eyes closed. Itachi threw himself beside him, cradling his lifeless form in his arms. Pain exploded within him and roared across the sky. When he cried, even his tears were blood. The scream that tore from his throat seemed to go on forever.

What have I done?

"Maybe we should wake him," Shisui said, his eyes darting to the clock again. He was cradling his last beer, having lined up the empty cans on the table, to his left. His eyelids were heavy with sleep and it was a becoming a struggle to keep them open.

Akane tapped a finger against her cup of tea, deep in thought. She looked at the distilling concoction in a jar to her left, the result of so many hours of work. Itachi's heart rate had been high all day, which was little wonder given his fever, but it was the occasional spikes in it that worried her. Those had grown more frequent by the hour. Whatever dreams his fevered mind was tormenting him with, she hoped he would forget upon waking. "Just a little longer," she said.

Shisui pursed his lips. She had at least spared him from his nursing duties after that first time, taking it upon herself to check in on Itachi every half an hour without so much as batting an eyelash. The sight of suffering that made his stomach turn did not seem to affect her. Even now, her face betrayed no concern, only weariness. "I don't know how you do it," he said.

"Someone has to."

Such a simple, dismissive answer. Shisui did not buy it for a moment. He remembered once telling Itachi that he and Akane were alike, but he had never known how much until now. Such well-guarded hearts, and so ill-adapted, deflecting feelings like they were shuriken and bottling themselves up to the brim, until they ended up exploding like the fireworks at the Tanabata festival. No wonder they found solace in each other. He could not stop himself from chortling.

"We'll see how funny you find things in the morning, after all that beer," she said, seemingly taking his reaction as an affront. "I won't deal with your hangover."

"Sorry, sorry," Shisui said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "I just remembered something."

Akane peered at him, nonplussed. "You're a strange fellow, Shisui-san. Maa, at least drink some water in between beers. Believe me, the extra trips to the toilet will be worth it."

He was about to thank her for the tip when a strange sound interrupted him. He thought it might have been a meow. Akane stood up and went to the door leading to the back porch, sliding it open. Shisui brightened up at the sight of the white shadow slipping in. "Kirara!" he said, jumping from his chair. "I was wondering where you were!"

"And hello, Kirara's… friend," Akane said disapprovingly, hunching down.

Shisui picked up the white cat and peered curiously over Akane's shoulder. A small bat lay still on the porch, leathery wings sprawled open at odd angles. "Kirara, how sweet, you brought mommy a present!" he said, rubbing her belly, glad for a reason to take his mind off things. "Good job! You're secretly a cunning ninneko, aren't you?"

"Really now," Akane sighed, "ninja cat or no, I keep trying to convince her no one likes dead things around the house as a gift."

"Who's a thoughtful kitty? Don't listen to her, mommy just doesn't know how to appreciate your efforts," Shisui told the cat, nuzzling her, but Kirara promptly kicked out with a paw at his face and jumped down from his arms, padding hurriedly out of the kitchen. "Damn it."

"I told you she doesn't like to be picked up."

"I'll have better luck charming her next time," Shisui said, slumping back in his chair.

Exceptional. Gifted. Prodigy.

The pain in his heart and the blood on his hands. Sasuke's ice-cold forehead against his, the silence in his chest and the stillness of his limbs. What did it all mean? What did it all amount to? Was death the only thing his talent could bring into the world?

The blackened fields, endless around them, began to crumble. Pieces of them broke off, floating into the sky like ashes. Itachi choked on them. His grip on Sasuke tightened as his world fell apart, swallowed by the red sky with its black clouds.

Let it swallow us both. If you die, I die with you.

Itachi closed his eyes, wanting to see nothing more. The rumbling sound of the destruction was coming closer, faster. He could feel himself floating up, and still, he would not let go. But Sasuke's body crumbled in his arms, dissolving and dispersing.

Just like everything else.

There was a dim light behind his eyelids. At first, he thought himself still floating, but his body soon registered the stillness of whatever nightmarish world he was in now. There was a heaviness in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. The effort it took to counter that weakened him, not that he did not already feel well beyond spent. He next picked up a strange, humming sound in his vicinity. It seemed familiar, but it took his mind a few moments to place it.

Purring?

Itachi opened his eyes. There was a cat sitting on his chest. Kirara, he realized. She opened her amber eyes and leaned in to bump her cold, wet nose against his in her usual greeting to him. A kitty kiss. Itachi's lip twitched into a smile, but it did not last. Right now, she seemed to weigh down on him like a sack of potatoes. "Kirara, I can't breathe," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

A shiver ran through him. Itachi removed the wet cloth from his forehead and sat up slowly, prompting Kirara to jump off, much to his relief. He recognized Akane's bedroom, but could not remember how he had gotten here for the life of him. Or why every bit of his flesh hurt, like he had been trampled over by a horde of angry bulls. He tried to focus, but the last thing he remembered was no more than a jumble of fractured images and metal against metal sounds. It drained him to sift through them at the moment, so he channeled his strength into getting up instead. He could hear low voices coming from somewhere in the house, and he shuffled towards the sound.

The light in the kitchen was jarringly bright, and he blinked a few times until his vision accommodated. Shisui and Akane were sitting at the table, staring at him as if he were an apparition. "Hey," he said, uncertainly.

Shisui's mouth opened and closed, adding to his confusion. It was a rare thing to see him speechless. It was Akane who stood up and strode towards him. For a moment he thought she looked about to spread out her arms and pull him into a hug, but only one hand reached out, and the back of it settled on his cheek for a brief moment.

"Come sit," she said quickly. "I'll get you a blanket."

Another shiver coursed through him. She had checked for a fever, he realized. No wonder he was feeling so weak. His legs managed to carry him over to the table and relief washed over him as the chair took his weight. He looked at Shisui, whose face bore the same, strange expression at the sight of him. His brows knitted in concern. "Are you alright, Shisui?" he asked.

At that, his cousin gave a quick, nervous laugh. "You're the one to ask? You gave us quite the scare, you know."

"I did?"

"You don't remember? We were sparring."

The same clinking sound of metal on metal echoed in his mind. A brief flash of multiple Shisuis across his line of sight. The bright light and roar of a fireball. Then…

His hand went to his abdomen, but there was no pain there. Was that memory not real?

"I took care of that," Akane said as a weight settled on his back and shoulders.

Itachi pulled the blanket around him, feeling his muscles contract in another shudder. "I'm sick." The words had come out somewhere between a statement and a question. Shisui looked down into what appeared to be a beer can, and it was Akane who reacted. Again.

"You have an infection in your lungs," she said, whisking at some odd-colored liquid in a jar. "It's perfectly treatable, as long as you take your medicine and cut yourself some slack. That means bed rest for a few days and no training or missions anytime soon."

The last time he remembered being sick enough to be forced into a break he had been around six years old. Mikoto had nursed him back to health after a bout of pneumonia, and it had taken him a week to recover. She had not let him train for another two weeks afterwards, and Itachi recalled how disappointed his father had seemed at the news. But the memory was not an unpleasant one. During those two weeks of recovery, he had spent more time with his baby brother than during the rest of that year combined. The image of a toddling, gurgling Sasuke reaching out for him around the house made him smile.

If you die, I die with you.

The smile faded from his lips. Itachi looked up and realized his friends were waiting for his reaction. "Well, I feel tired enough to sleep for a whole year," he admitted half-heartedly.

"Then you can get right back to it," Akane said. "After you drink this."

Itachi quirked a brow at the proffered cup of questionably smelling liquid. It was the same, odd-colored something she had been stirring up earlier, he realized. Medicine. How long had he been asleep for, that she had had the time to prepare it? His eyes flew to the clock on the wall to his left and widened. It was a little past midnight.

Shisui picked up on his panic. "It's alright, I'll drop by your place tomorrow to let Mikoto-san you were with me, binge watching movies all night."

A knot settled in his throat. He took a sip from the cup and scowled. It was bitter as bile, and slightly viscous, too. It did not go down easily, but he forced it to stay there, nonetheless. "Thanks. We had a bit of an… argument this morning, before I left," he said. That much, he remembered clearly. More so than he would have liked.

Shisui's mirth took a dip at the news, only to resurface a moment later. "Well then, it's good that we brought you here, instead."

"Sorry to impose, Akane."

"It's no trouble. Someone should look after you, at least until your fever breaks."

Shisui looked at her. "I thought you said it would, if he takes the medicine."

"And it will, for good, eventually. But I expect it to recur for at least another couple of days. Really now, Shisui-san, it's like you expect me to snap my fingers at every turn to fix it. These things take time."

"Then don't make it look so easy," he said, rubbing his right cheek.

Shisui's face flashed in Itachi's mind, half-covered in blood from a wicked gash. Did I do that? His head began to throb. He took another swig of what he was growing certain was pure bile, willing himself not to gag on it. Even with the blanket around him, a chill was creeping into him inch by inch. The occasional shudder progressed to a persistent tremor. His eyelids were getting leaden, too, and it occurred to him that he might fall asleep with his head on the table (again) before he would get to finish taking his treatment.

But it was his last coherent thought before his head swam with a sudden bout of dizziness and his mind became a jumble. Dreams and memories collided, pieces of them forming fractals across his mindscape.

Mikoto's tears. I promise I'll fix it.

Sasuke's glare. I hate you.

Hiashi's question. What would you do if you were in my place?

Sasuke, dead in his arms, slain by his own hand. His whole being recoiled at the thought, shuddering with revulsion, but all he could see was the blood, bright red against his little brother's pale face. All he could feel was the cold, wrapping its icy fingers around him, body and soul.

"He didn't finish that," Shisui noted, promptly stopping Itachi's fall from the chair before sweeping him up in his arms like he weighed nothing. He was shivering inside the blanket, however, straining against his grip.

"It's still more than half the dose. It will have to do, for now," Akane said. "Put him back to bed and get some sleep yourself. I'll clean up here."

Shisui winced. "Can I have the couch, please?"

Akane quirked a brow at him. "You're too tall for it." She saw him hesitate, and in that moment his expression looked almost as pained as Itachi's. Her voice softened at the sight. "His fever will go down soon, you don't have to worry." Something twisted in her, but she fought it down. Shisui remained unconvinced. He needed to hear it, she realized, needed that reassurance. She was not sixteen anymore, either. No longer a medic in training. It still hurt to rip those words out of her throat, nonetheless. "He'll be alright, Shisui-san... I promise."

He accepted them with a nod of his head before turning away and slowly making his way to the bedroom. Akane watched him go, then sank into a chair. She stared into space, leaning her forehead into one hand. Her hair fell around her face, shielding it from the light. Quietly, she reached into a drawer, pulled out a cigarette from the pack and lit it, watching the smoke curl in the air towards the ceiling through the blur of tears.

Shisui unwrapped Itachi from the blanket and gently slid him under the covers. He then circled around the bed, biting his lip, to join him. Itachi stirred as the mattress dipped and he inched towards him. His shudders were making the whole bed shake and Shisui fought against the sinking feeling in his stomach to wrap his arms around him, pulling Itachi closer to warm him up. Not that he needed it, really, but fever was strange like that.

"You smell like a brewery," Itachi murmured through chattering teeth.

Shisui could not withhold a nervous chuckle. "And you smell like medicine. Don't tell me you pretended to fall asleep just to get out of finishing it."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Itachi's jest eased his nerves somewhat. Whatever remained of them was for a different reason altogether.

Juri opened her eyes to the grey light, sick of the sound of rain. Barely in Amegakure for two days and already its constant patter against the window was getting on her nerves. Even the air here, laden with humidity, stirred rage within her. But Kirigakure was miles away now, the damp, accursed trash heap. She had no home. She was free. More or less, she thought, looking at the discarded Akatsuki cloak on the floor, by the bed. Then her eyes drifted to the silhouette standing by the window.

"Get dressed," Suisen said, without even looking at her. "We have been summoned."

So, that was what had woken her up. The Leader's summons, creeping, crawling in her skull. She had not heard the words, but the sensation had surely been there, now that she thought about it. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Juri picked up her clothes and started putting them on, all the while glancing at her partner. Everything from his tense stance to his damn, stony face spoke of him having one of those days. A pity, really, after last night's debauchery.

They treaded through the dark corridors, lined with pipes and cables, deep within the tallest tower in Ame. They had only been here once before in the two years since she had joined the Akatsuki, and Juri still preferred the rundown hideouts scattered through the wilderness across all countries. This place was too constricting for her taste, everything narrow, and grey and fucking damp.

After minutes dragged on navigating the labyrinthine halls with their narrow staircases, Suisen finally pushed a door open. Juri followed him inside a large, circular chamber. Three people were inside, much to her surprise. She had only expected the Leader and Konan to be here. After all, it was a rare occurrence for even two Akatsuki teams to meet face to face. However, even though he could no longer be considered a team by himself, Sasori was here too, and it was not a projection. The last time she had seen the Suna-nin had been months ago, when the Leader had summoned everyone to a conference in the aftermath of Orochimaru's betrayal. Were they finally heading out to recruit him a teammate?

"Good, you're here," the Leader said, turning his attention to them. His rinnegan fixed them, and Juri shifted under his scrutiny, before his eyes moved to Suisen. "I have a number of missions for you two," he continued. "You're going back to the Land of Fire."

"Back?" Juri could not stop herself from blurting out. "I thought we were supposed to steer clear of it after-" But the rinnegan was back onto her and she fell quiet, even as she seethed. These fucking dojutsu users, she thought, thinking themselves better than everyone else who did not possess a bloodline limit.

"The Land of Fire spans a wide territory. We cannot afford to refuse missions within it any longer," the Leader said. "If you encounter opposition, I expect you to deal with it."

Juri was about to open her mouth again when she noticed Suisen's eyes narrowing dangerously. "The ANBU team both our team and Sasori's encountered now has two Uchihas," he said. "Their trickery made a fool of a legendary Sannin and Sasori both. You expect us to deal with that without backup?"

Sasori's tail slid out from underneath the Akatsuki robe and whizzed through the air faster than Juri could see. All she caught was a spark and the metallic clang as its sharp tip stopped a mere inch from Suisen's face, pressing against the side of his kunai. "You insolent brat," Sasori growled.

"Enough," the Leader said. "You will not argue among yourselves and you will not argue against orders."

"I didn't take you for a coward, Konoha scum," Sasori said, hurling the slight even as his tail retracted into the folds of his cloak.

"I'm not the one hiding, am I?" Suisen snapped back at him.

"Silence, both of you." The Leader's voice had taken on a dangerous note, and it had the desired effect, for the time being. "Take your orders and go. I will hear no more of this, Suisen, unless you wish to follow in Orochimaru's footsteps."

At his words, butterfly-shaped origami fluttered through the air towards them and Juri held out her hand to take the scroll they formed. She followed a quiet Suisen outside, not daring to open their list of missions before his mood improved. Still, she could not help but wonder.

"Why get so worked up over this? I thought you didn't mind killing your countrymen," Juri said as they were leaving the tower. She had always found it ironic that they had both become missing-nin by first murdering their countrymen before defecting, however different their circumstances may have been. She had slain Kiri-nin and civilians she could have cared less about, while he had killed his ANBU team and made it look like someone else's doing.

"Is bloodlust the only thing in that pretty little head of yours?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice. Right now, his anger was not directed at her. "It was no coincidence that same team ran into Sasori and Orochimaru after us. They were assigned to deal with anyone wearing these cloaks. They have a skilled tracker with them, an Inuzuka. After what happened with Orochimaru, the moment we cross the border, Konoha will know. That ANBU team will find us."

"So, we take them out, or die trying," she said, starting to understand the exact extent of the steaming shit pile the Leader was pushing them into. He would use Suisen's knowledge, as the Akatsuki's one remaining former Konoha-nin, to eliminate the threat that particular taskforce posed to their organization's movements. Even if she and Suisen ended up failing in this task, the Akatsuki still had to gain, as they were bound to at least take some of the bastards down with them, crippling that ANBU team and buying them time.

Juri scoffed, a wicked smirk curling her lips as she placed her hands on her hips. "Let's at least show them a good time."

Suisen gave her a pointed look. She really did have nothing but bloodlust on her mind.

The name "Akane" means "bright red". I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. This story started out as something I was jotting down in a bout of escapism, following the onset of seasonal depression. I never expected it to become so fleshed out, or to gain this much attention. I'm glad for each and every one of you who decided to stick around. Although I probably don't thank you all enough for your support, know that your words always bring a smile to my lips.