Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this innocuous interlude. Oodles of respect for Masashi Kishimoto, the creative force behind Naruto. Please do have patience with me and with the ninja with a message to deliver.

FIFTEEN: HARD UP

Itachi's cheek brushed Iruka's as he murmured three words into his ear. "Open your eyes."

He did.

Maybe he shouldn't have.

Black tomoes reeled lazily in red irises, then locked into a whirling pinwheel that overtook everything else. Iruka had seen the reports, knew the name … and the terror it inspired. Tsukuyomi.

A torture technique. Deadly for most. Devastating for survivors.

But Iruka felt no pain. He gazed across a barren landscape lit by a crimson moon. "Itachi?"

"Here." Although there was no wind, Itachi's hair and cloak shifted like shadows. "I will give you the message now. Carry it back to Konoha without fail."

Squaring his shoulders, Iruka nodded. "I'm listening."

"No." Itachi seemed to float forward. "I will hide it here, bury it in your subconscious. You won't know the contents of the message. You are merely the messenger."

"Will the Hokage know where to look?"

He was closer still, but also everywhere at once. Iruka wondered how many people had died upon this bleak plain. His breath caught when Itachi's hand touched his face.

Heart pounding, he asked, "Itachi?"

"Ibiki Morino knows where to look."

Iruka groaned. "Do you realize how intimidating he is? He's like … Konoha's version of Kisame."

A soft huff. "Fortunately for you, Ibiki is more perceptive."

On top of everything else, Iruka would be reporting to the head of Torture and Interrogation. "Fine," he sighed.

Itachi was toe-to-toe now, so that all his rippling edges surrounded Iruka. "Why aren't you afraid?"

"Something about … trusting fool?" Iruka darted a glance at the sky. "I assumed we're here for the privacy, not for pain."

Itachi hummed.

Iruka searched his face. The telltale tilt registered a little too late. Those cool lips were back, their pressure unyielding, yet uncertain. And it dawned on him that Itachi had been locked into a worst-case scenario since he was thirteen. His entire adolescence.

He might very well be hungry.

Maybe even ravenous.

And not for a bowl of ramen.

So Iruka returned the kiss. Just a few soft presses. Enough to not reject the man. "Itachi?"

"I placed the message."

"Good." And when the silence began to feel awkward, Iruka added, "Thank you."

"Open your eyes."

When he did, they were back in Itachi's room. Right where they'd been. Probably only a moment before Itachi triggered the Tsukuyomi. But Itachi looked pinched and pale.

"Hey, are you all right?" And in a softer grumble, "Kisame is going to flay me if he sees you like this. You're having that nap."

Itachi favored him with a sour look, but he didn't contradict.

Dragging out a futon, Iruka silently ordered Itachi onto it. "I'll keep watch. You didn't sleep much last night."

Lowering himself onto the bed, Itachi countered, "Neither did you."

"And how would you know that?"

A beat too late, Itachi answered, "Thin walls."

Iruka muttered, "Leave Sukea out of this."

"I doubt he would allow that." Gaze steady, Itachi asked, "Will you keep him?"

Since there was no reason not to be honest, Iruka admitted, "I'm not sure. I might be a passing fancy of his."

"He'll want to keep you." Itachi sounded convinced. Almost convincing.

"How can you be so sure?"

Although he closed his eyes and turned his face toward the opposite wall, Itachi actually answered. "It's what I would do."

Triggering the Tsukuyomi must have taken more out of Itachi than Iruka first realized. Either that, or the young man felt safe enough to lapse into a deeper sleep than any ninja allowed themselves away from home.

The sun set. The festival began. The festivities wore on long into the night, and still Itachi slept, leaving Iruka alone with his puzzling new responsibility.

Itachi, a double agent? It boggled the mind, yet Iruka believed him. And he could confirm the truth when he returned to Konoha.

Which brought up an uncomfortable thought.

If Itachi wasn't truly an enemy, wasn't it equally possible that Sukea wasn't truly a friend? He was holding something back. And Iruka hadn't been able to confirm anything with the only point of contact available to him.

Kakashi had essentially told him to trust his gut, but Iruka was second-guessing himself left and right. How had everything turned out like this, with him standing guard over a member of Akatsuki?

To protect Sukea from these people, Iruka needed to keep up the pretense of a hot spring fling. To protect Itachi from Kisame, Iruka needed to hide everything from his chakra pathways to his connection to Konoha.

With that in mind, Iruka lapsed into meditation, calming his nerves and coaxing more of his chakra into hiding. He could do that much. Give credence to his claims. Go deeper into his cover story. Believe all the things he needed to be true.

Late in the night, Itachi stirred. "He is coming. Go."

Without question, Iruka stole out and let himself into his own room. Crossing to the window, he watched the lights that still lingered in the village. These people were enjoying themselves with everything they had. Maybe tomorrow night, Iruka could join them.

Singing carried from somewhere close—and getting closer—a song made sloppy by drink. But not so slurred that Iruka didn't recognize Kisame's basso booming. Or Sukea's off-key harmonies. Had they spent the entire day drinking?

The neighboring door scraped open, and Iruka thought he heard Kisame collide with a futon. Hopefully, he hadn't landed atop Itachi.

A moment later, Sukea slipped inside, reeking of liquor and still humming to himself. Iruka turned away from the view and tried to guess if the journalist was shamming.

There wasn't much to see in the dark, so Iruka had little warning when Sukea threw his arms around his shoulders and sagged against him. He received a boozy kiss to one cheek.

"How drunk are you?" whispered Iruka.

In a completely sober voice, Sukea replied, "Far less than I appear."

He wrinkled his nose. "Did you bathe in the stuff?"

"All for the sake of authenticity." With a convincingly drunken giggle, he added, "Kisame can really hold his liquor. To a point."

"He's legitimately drunk?"

"Oooh, yes." A hand came up, angling Iruka's face toward what light reached them from the window. "Where have you been all evening?"

"Here, for the most part. We did go around to a few of the stalls earlier."

Sukea hummed. He didn't sound convinced.

Then again, Iruka wasn't a very good liar. Changing the subject, he asked, "What were you and Kisame up to?"

"Drinking."

Iruka snorted.

"Aaand, he wanted some advice." Sukea confided, "Kisame is hoping to change the tenor of his partnership with Itachi."

It took a few moments for that to sink in. Iruka whispered, "He went to you for … romantic advice?"

"Yep." Sukea grinned. "He was under the impression that I seduced you."

That was just bizarre. "What did you tell him?"

"That you seduced me."

Iruka frowned. "Nobody would believe that."

"Kisame does." Wrapping Iruka in a gentle hug, Sukea spoke into his ear. "He thinks you've been seducing Itachi."

End Note: originally posted on December 22, 2020. 1,185 words.