Surprise!

Chapter 28 – Become the Beast

The black flames continued to burn long after Juri had stilled. Snowflakes vanished in the fire's blistering heat, and the blanket of snow around her blackened form was hissing, evaporating before even turning liquid. Itachi stared into the dark fire, just as still as the charred corpse that would soon be no more than a pile of smoldering ashes.

Something in him had fractured so irreparably that nothing could cross the gaping chasm which had split him in two. It was like looking at the world through the eyes of a stranger, stranded, separated from himself. Itachi Uchiha was in agony inside. The ANBU captain was on the outside, his face just like the mask, expressionless and crimson-streaked.

the blood on Shisui's cheeks

He wanted to scream. To rage. To cry. The need to let himself manifest, to let all that pain out into the world was almost, almost overpowering. His lower lip trembled. His numb fist clenched, nails digging painful crescents into the flesh of his palm.

Almost.

He could not, would not let it go. The bridges inside him were burning and his hands unclenched, suddenly powerless. Itachi the shinobi stood his ground and saw the pain safely contained on the other side of the abyss, merely the subject of careful observation. His lungs were aching. He realized he had been holding his breath for a while now and drew in sharp, frozen air, sucking it in greedily through the holes in the mask.

he was breathing and Shisui was not

His mind flexed like a well-trained muscle, attempting to subdue the wayward thoughts, to drive them deep down, under, beyond the chasm and its burning bridges, into the part of him that blackened and withered with grief even as he watched.

the part of him that felt like joining Shisui in death

Not here. Not now. The fight was not over. They were not yet safe.

Itachi turned away from the crackling black flames. The first thing his eyes fell upon was Shisui's ANBU mask, discarded in the snow. The red markings on it had drawn his gaze like a beacon and there, it lingered, tracing the contours and slopes of the design: a weasel, of all animals. A weasel, he mused. But the pain flared again at the thought, the heat of it crossing the chasm. Itachi pushed it back and looked away.

He noticed Tenzo standing a few feet away, wary and tense judging by posture alone, because he was still wearing his mask and his expression was concealed in its darkness. "Captain, we have a problem," Tenzo said, a hint of concern slipping into his tone, an echo of what his body language had already conveyed. "Suisen is…"

"I know," Itachi said, and he did. He had noticed, with his sharingan, that what appeared to be Suisen's crumpled form, lying in the snow under the tree Akane's jutsu had smashed him against, was not the real one. At some point, he had created an earth style shadow clone to replace him. That clone was melting on the snow now, brown mud tainting the white. Still, it did not give Itachi pause.

"Bring Tsume and Hiashi-sama here," he commanded. "We'll hunt him down." Suisen was now alone, tired and injured. He would not be much of a problem anymore and he could not have gotten far. "Akane, you'll stay with-" Hiashi, he had meant to say. Shisui, that distant part of him had thought. But Itachi looked around and was unable to find the person whose name he had uttered. "Where's Akane?" he asked.

Tenzo picked up Itachi's earlier movements, looking left and right and all around them, but it quickly became as clear to him that they were alone now. The last time Itachi remembered seeing her was… no. He pushed at that image, too, banishing it from his mind's eye. It did not matter, anyway. He knew where she had gone. Guilt and apprehension rose from the smoke of the fires burning within his heart, but on the surface, safe and guarded, Itachi the ANBU captain felt only the shiver of betrayal.

Do you trust me or not?

"Which way did she go?" he asked Tenzo. This time, to ensure Suisen and Juri would not separate them again, Tenzo had used his Soushinki. Each of them had swallowed one of his tracking seeds a few hours before, when Hiashi had first located the enemy.

Tenzo closed his eyes and focused. He immediately sensed the strongest signals coming from the seed inside Itachi and the one remaining within Shisui, followed by three more distant ones, close together. He frowned, reaching out farther and farther, to no avail. Akane could not have gone out of his range in such a short span of time. One of the seeds was missing.

"I can't locate her seed," he said, eventually. "It's just… gone."

Itachi seethed quietly as he put the pieces together. First, she had seized her chance and sneaked away. Everything she lacked for in physical strength, Akane made up for in stealth many times over, rivaling him in that respect. Second, she had somehow inactivated or destroyed Tenzo's tracking seed. Given that they could float in the stomach for over a day before finally being digested, perhaps she had used her medical knowledge and skill to speed up that process. Third, she had likely turned a small piece of that same medical prowess into a means of tracking.

I picked up your heartbeat.

"Go get Tsume," Itachi commanded, and Tenzo obeyed.

Akane was nothing if not resourceful; he had always admired that about her. However, everything she had done spoke of premeditation and intent. Of a blatant disregard for the precepts of her own field, which prohibited her from placing herself at risk in any given situation. Of insubordination. By taking matters into her own hands, she was throwing it all away. The initial anger Itachi had felt upon realizing what she had done morphed into pain, more pain, never ending.

He had lost Shisui, and now he was losing Akane, too. She had lived, yes… but she was not the same.


Suisen could not stop a grunt of pain as his feet sank in the snow once the last of his chakra vanished from the soles. He huffed and stopped his fall with one arm pushing weakly against a tree. He had driven himself dangerously close to his limit with that shadow clone, and then well beyond it to keep himself from leaving behind telltale footprints. There was a slim chance they would all regroup and hunt him down properly, but he did not think that would be the case. He was expecting the right one to come along and finish the job. After all, he was certain he had seen murder in her eyes.

Juri was dead already. He would be joining her soon, one way or another. Perhaps they would meet on the other side and he would let her gloat. He remembered once laughing in her face at the idea of her killing an Uchiha. He had been wrong, and Juri would have the last laugh in that. She would love to throw it in his face as much as he would hate it, and even so, he felt almost eager for it to finally be over. For himself to finally be free.

Snowflakes clung to his long hair as it slipped past his shoulders, dangling down. He had taken a blade to it after leaving Konoha all those years ago – a symbolic gesture, since everyone in his clan wore it long. His clan, he noted ruefully, as his eyes trailed down over the brown tresses. For all his hatred and his spite, he still thought of them as his clan. His hair, grown back to its original length, was proof of his inability to shake off the past.

It means nothing, he told himself. Just like wearing that black cloak with red clouds meant nothing, as well. Damn them, he thought, cradling his broken ribs. Damn them all: the Hyuugas, the Akatsuki and especially…

His senses tingled. Years of training as a shinobi and living as a missing-nin amounted to him not needing the byakugan to detect an enemy nearby. It did not help that he could feel killing intent radiating off her like a dark, demonic mist. A smile made its way to his lips through the exhaustion. He had chosen his death well. Now all he had left to do was face it properly, so he turned around.

There she stood, sword drawn: his own, personal shinigami. The mask was gone, but her face was the mask now, not a crack in it yet. Not like before. She had had time to recollect herself, to set her mind to this. In his state, it would not be a matter of skill now, but one of mind. Of spirit. To take him down, she had to become his equal, to forswear everything she was and become a predator herself, even if it meant killing a part of herself to do so.

One last threshold. He knew she would cross it, if properly guided down the path.

"I knew you would come," he said, still needing the tree to keep himself upright.

Akane's fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, bloodying its wrappings. Holding Suisen's pale gaze, devoid now of all fear, she could feel herself slipping deeper into the darkness with each passing moment. His machinations had torn her apart and led to Shisui's death. His blood was as much on his hands as it was on Juri's… and her own. She had chosen to place the promise made to Shisui in her heart-shaped box of secrets, buried in the greys of morality. Something had died inside of her. Once, when Suisen had raped her. Again, when her actions had hastened Shisui's death. A thousand times over in between.

"This is all a game to you," she said quietly.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to play," he pointed out, and marked his words by throwing a kunai, which whizzed through the air and cut through her hair before embedding itself in the tree behind her.

Akane did not flinch and the sharp edge kissed her cheekbone, leaving behind a fine, stinging cut. "You didn't kill me then and you still don't want to kill me," she said.

Suisen scoffed and forced himself to straighten up. His legs protested as they took his weight. "You were willing to bet your life on that supposition?" he asked.

"On an educated guess, rather."

He had left her on the brink of death and she had been teetering on that edge ever since, gazing into the abyss. Death had somewhat lost its meaning, like a weapon sharpened too often lost its blade, bit by bit. However, Akane had not been about to throw away her life before taking his. She had simply made note of his hesitation in their earlier clash: lax grip, ineffective restraining method, not drawing the blade across her throat despite having ample opportunity to do so. A shinobi with his experience would not have made such mistakes, not to mention the perfectionist he had proven himself to be.

"Let me guess: you want to know why," Suisen said. "You can deny it, if you wish, but lying to me would mean lying to yourself." He was talking faster than usual, hyperaware of the danger she posed to him. She had not moved an inch, but it was akin to the stillness of a venomous snake waiting to strike. He was only worried she would not let him finish. "When I took you that day, I was planning to interrogate and then kill you. I believed you to be the weakest on your team and I wasn't wrong. However…"

His eyes drifted to the sword in her hand, with its tip resting in the snow. Light glinted along the blade, revealing the discreet ripple design on its surface, where the metal had been folded against itself again and again during its forging.

"There was something dormant in you," he continued. "Unlike your teammates, you still had something to prove, only you were blind to it, or perhaps lacked the necessary motivation. I thought to myself 'what a waste' and put you to the test. Here you are now, proving I was right. I broke you, and you lined yourself with gold into something more beautiful than before. You'll be my legacy."

"You're sick," Akane said, her voice hollow and cold, just like the rest of herself.

Deciding she wanted to hear nothing more from him, she brandished her sword and lunged at him. At the last moment, Suisen raised something to defend himself with. The edge of her sword clacked as it struck down perpendicularly into a dark bamboo flute. Akane felt a sliver of her previous rage creep into her. She gritted her teeth and danced to the tune of that silent fury, using her stuck blade to tear the flute from his grip and throw it aside along with her own weapon.

Suisen slumped back against the tree, exerted by the mere effort of defending himself. He sensed the energy surge in the air a moment before the chatter of birds filled the silence and a Lightning jutsu lit up in her left hand.

"I was hoping you would use the sword," he said wearily. "Less messy, less… personal."

Akane's eyes were alight with the electricity crackling in her palm. "Then I wouldn't get to feel your heart stop beating in my hand."

Pain exploded in Suisen's chest a fraction of a second later and he doubled over, coughing out blood. His breath stopped in his throat. He looked up at her, even as his vision blurred, feeling death coiling around his heart. She had struck sooner than he would have liked and he had been unable to hold her off. No one could say no to death, but he held fast. One last thing to do before he let it claim him.

Akane could feel whatever strength Suisen had left leaving his body, leaving the muscles in his heart. It was beating fast and faster, in its final, mad gallop, but it was losing strength with each contraction. It would not take long. For a moment, the suffering showed on his face. She felt nothing at the sight of it and briefly wondered whether that was good or bad. Did it matter? Soon, she would be free of him, either way.

As his heart struggled in its death throes, all color drained from his face. He was fading fast, after having offered hardly any resistance. It had been a lot easier than she had expected. Akane was wondering at that, watching the trickle of blood running down his chin, dripping on her forearm, when Suisen suddenly looked up at her. The edge in his eyes caused her to tense.

"Well played," he said, his voice weakened down to a mere, pained whisper. "Here's your prize… Akane."

The blood curdled in her veins at the sound of her name on his lips. Then those same lips parted and his tongue came out. Underneath the red of his blood, she could see a black design imprinted: three solid lines and two broken lines, starting from the back of the tongue to the tip. She stared at it, frozen and baffled, as the light died in his eyes and his heart spasmed for the last time. His body sank to the ground, lifeless.

Akane released the inert organ in her fist with a small cry of disgust and backed away into a nearby tree. She crumpled at its base, gasping for air and trembling, fighting the scream lodged in her throat. She could not tear her eyes from the dead shinobi, from the crimson mess she had made of his chest and his still open pale eyes. The color of crushed worms, her mind echoed numbly, for what she hoped would be the last time.

However, the black seal on Suisen's tongue flashed in her mind (what), followed by the sound of her name on his lips (how) and Akane's hope was dashed against the surrounding trees (why). She raised her trembling, bloody hands. Shisui's blood was mixing with Suisen's - the insult to Shisui's memory was written all over her skin. She thrust her hands into the snow and began to rub them clean so viciously her skin remained red long after the blood was all gone.

She was not free of him. Even in death, Suisen had not released her.


Tsume stared at Shisui's body, stunned. Her eyes stung, yet she could not tear her gaze from his bloodless face. It should have been inside him, all that blood. What was it doing all over him and in the snow? How had Akane not stopped it from spilling? When Tenzo had told her Shisui was gone, she had almost told him off for inappropriate humor for once. She would have gladly accepted it then as a cruel joke rather than face the truth of it now.

"Tsume."

Itachi's voice, so cold. She almost did not recognize it. What she saw when she turned around to face him frightened her even more.

"I need you to track down Akane."

That's your best friend lying dead in the snow, Tsume thought miserably, trying to ascertain the distance Itachi had set between himself and everything beyond the mission. It seemed insurmountable. Part of her understood, knew that this was an ideal, textbook reaction for an ANBU captain when faced with a teammate's death. Yet she could not stop thinking about the slightly drunk Itachi in the onsen pool some months-that-felt-like-ages ago, wondering where he ended and the shinobi began.

"Now, Tsume."

A twitch of his brows, a glint in the red, blood red, of Itachi's sharingan… then nothing. Even his steely tone had conveyed nothing more than urgency. Tsume's words stuck in her throat, teeth clenching like prison bars. Feel, she prayed, looking at him. Be annoyed, angry with me, just feel something. Akane's scent was drawing near, heavy with blood – none of it hers; but Itachi could not have known that. The mission was over, he just did not know it; otherwise, she would have felt a modicum of guilt for provoking him.

It was Tenzo who noticed Akane stalking out of the woods into the clearing, and the small movement of his eyes towards her was enough to tip off Itachi into redirecting his attention. Tsume felt no relief at the sudden change of Itachi's focus when he strode to meet Akane halfway, out of their earshot.

"What-"

Akane held out a storage scroll and Itachi's mouth clamped shut as his eyes fell on the 'corpse' kanji inscribed on it. She did not meet his gaze, nor utter a single word. She did not have to. He recognized in her a void similar to his own. That distant part of him understood. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to hold her and be held in return. However, he could not.

"We'll discuss the consequences when we get home," Itachi said.

Akane nodded wordlessly, tucking the storage scroll in her pouch with ice-cold hands. Her heart cringed as her fingers enclosed around another, empty one. She moved, ghostlike, towards the teammate she had failed and who was now lying in the red snow. Although Juri was no more than a pile of cold, black ashes and Suisen, a corpse in a scroll, none of them felt better for it. None of them felt justice had been done. After all, death could not pay for life. Vengeance could not bring Shisui back.

Akane was only a couple of feet away from him when Itachi barred her way. Tsume tensed as the medic obliged him and stepped back. Itachi's scent, wafting downwind, made her hackles rise. Something was not right. Throughout the years, she had learned to trust her gut. There were things she could pick up on through her sense of smell that her mind could not grasp entirely, but the very notion of which set off the alarm. Although she could not put her finger on it, she sensed that he was about to do something unspeakable.

"Get back," Itachi told them all.

His tone of command caused the muscles in Tsume's legs to stop against her will, just when she was about to rush over to him. She saw Itachi's sharingan fixated on Shisui's blood-streaked face, red upon red, and his right hand rising to form seals. Her stomach lurched and a feral howl caught in her tightened throat when Itachi's intention finally became painfully clear to her. The scream tore from her throat along with the roar of flames which engulfed Shisui's body. Kuromaru howled his sorrow at the sky.

But Tenzo's sudden hold on her was secure and it was all Tsume could do to thrash around in his grip. She screamed until the lining of her throat was raw, her voice consumed, down to a ragged whimper. The fire burned on, a funnel of thick, black smoke rising up towards the sky. Tsume felt her legs giving in and she collapsed in the snow, dragging Tenzo down with her. The orange and reds blurred through the tears and she turned away from them, burying her face in the warmth of Tenzo's chest.

The skin on Akane's face was burning from the heat of the fire jutsu, though she was well away from the pyre. She forced herself to stand still and watch it consuming Shisui. Shisui, who had once told her an Uchiha's love burns like a bonfire in the dead of winter. A shiver ran through her in spite of the heat, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She stole a glance at Tsume, who was shuddering, and whose heart was voicing its mounting distress with a prolonged sequence of frantic, loud thumps. She was likely teetering on the verge of another panic attack.

Tsume almost gagged at the smell of blood that clung to Akane as she drew near. She saw the hand, scrubbed clean, reaching out to touch her like a pale snake and recoiled. With the last of her strength, Tsume slapped Akane's arm away and wrenched herself free from Tenzo's hold. Before any of them could stop her, she dashed to close the distance between herself and Itachi. He saw her coming, but made no move to stop her as she pushed him into a tree and locked her forearm against his throat. She wrenched the ANBU mask from his face with the other hand and bared her fangs at him.

"How could you?" she spat in tattered voice, but full of venom. The stream of tears which she thought had run dry began anew. "He deserved better than to fucking burn where he was murdered, he deserved a proper fucking funeral you heartless bastard, you… you…"

Itachi was gazing at her impassively, inert both body and soul. He was dying too, she realized. That slightly drunk Itachi who had laughed with them in the dark, steaming pool under the stars was going to follow Shisui into oblivion. The ANBU captain was burning one and smothering the other. Her eyes lingered on the trails of dried blood on Itachi's cheeks, before they became a blur again. When she spoke, her voice broke over the words.

"Shisui loved you…"

"I know."

His soft reply rendered Tsume speechless as her heart broke, too. Then, something cold jabbed into the pressure points at the base of her neck and her grip slackened as the world grew dark. The glowing red of Itachi's sharingan was the last to fade.

Akane held Tsume's body as it fell lax into her arms and eased her down to the ground. Kuromaru whined mournfully, pressing his head against Tsume's cold cheek. Tenzo shuffled through the snow to join them.

Itachi stared into the roaring flames. He pushed himself off the tree and walked past his teammates, towards the fire, vaguely aware of Akane's gaze following him warily. He did not stop until the heat of the pyre threatened to consume him, too. It made his eyes sting and still, he forced himself to endure.

If something ever happens to me, burn my body.

Shisui's voice echoed, ghostlike, across Itachi's mindscape. His pyre became a luminous, amorphous mass, casting golden fractals across his field of vision. A droplet fell into the snow at Itachi's feet, stained pink by the dried blood it had encountered on its way down.

I promise.

I apologize for the long wait and thank you for your patience. I burned myself out halfway through this chapter a while back and needed the distance. I hope I am back for good, but I make no promises of regular updates. I am not the most consistent of writers, unfortunately. The story is nowhere near the end, either (this, I had not planned; it's way longer than I expected it to be when I started out).

Later edit: I should add some mentions I forgot about:

1. Itachi's name means "weasel", but I suppose you knew that already (hint for Shisui's ANBU mask).

2. When Suisen told Akane she had lined herself with gold after he broke her and thus became beautiful, he was making a reference to the Japanese art of kintsugi: repairing broken pottery with gold. You can look up pictures of it, it's something quite spectacular.