Searing bright purple light, the smell of ozone and burning wood, a static crackle that makes his mouth taste like metal and his skin nettle—
Kakashi drops to a crouch, tanto drawn, staring with alarm at the glowing barrier blocking the street. Shisui yelps in surprise, nearly falling over, and Itachi and Tenzo adopt matching expressions of wariness as they draw their own weapons.
"It's a dome," Itachi murmurs, pointing upwards. Kakashi follows the gesture with narrowed eyes, ignoring the raindrops that splatter across his face, watching the strange violet light wrap around the Hokage Tower.
"Is it a barrier?" he asks. Tenzo forms several quick hand signs, and the wet cobblestones crack open as vines burst forth to skitter uselessly across the glowing purple wall.
"It's a barrier," Tenzo confirms, a frown on his face as he looks around. "It's not dangerous or anything, but I'm guessing no one can enter or leave Hokage Tower."
"Did anyone else make it out in time?" Shisui asks, pushing wet hair out of his eyes and looking down the deserted, rain-slicked street. "Should one of us go to the Police Headquarters and warn them?"
"I don't know," Tenzo says
"We're the only ones outside the barrier who know about Danzo's killer," Itachi says, dark eyes wide with alarm as they flick to meet Kakashi's gaze. "Does the assassin know he's been exposed?"
Kakashi remembers how the stranger had paused in the inn lobby, and his blood runs cold.
"We need to get to Naruto right now," he says.
The curtains in Naruto's apartment are ratty and coarse under Sasuke's fingertips as he tugs them aside, frowning as he sees the glowing barrier surrounding the Hokage Tower, far in the distance. His left hand tightens its grasp on the windowsill, knuckles turning white, and he senses something bitter in the air—
"Naruto?" he asks quietly. There's no reply, no sound but the groan of the cheap apartment building swaying in the gale-force wind and the lashing of furious rainfall against the window.
"Naruto!" he says, louder, as he moves towards the bedroom. There's a whimper, a cowed sound of terror, and he sees a blond head of hair on the floor beside the bed. Just a minute ago, everything had been fine; now the lights flicker, and tears trace shining lines down the boy's face as Sasuke crouches down.
He can feel it now, the roiling waves of cruel malice and strangely-familiar fear slipping through the gap under the door and from the vents. It's greasy and dark, a casual malevolence that raises goosebumps on his skin and makes Naruto curl up even tighter.
Sasuke's not one to show affection, so he's not sure where the instinct to wrap his arms around Naruto comes from—
But he doesn't stop himself, feathery golden hair tickling his chin and cheek as he gathers the trembling boy in his arms, coming together in an embrace that's firm and warm and steady.
And it's probably just his imagination, but for a moment, the murk of the darkened apartment recedes for just a moment.
"It's alright. I'm here," he murmurs, a little awkwardly, because only two people have ever seen this side of him. Naruto sniffles, but he's not actively sobbing anymore, which Sasuke takes to mean that he's doing something right here.
There's something awful happening outside. But Sasuke can't quite bring himself to care about that right now, not when Naruto's arms find their way around his neck and Naruto's tears leave a damp spot on his shirt.
Konoha can deal with its problems by itself for one night.
Their sandals splash in ankle-deep pools of water as they run through the flooded streets. Kakashi's in the lead, frantic urgency buoying his stamina as he races over the slick cobblestones at a dead sprint. He knows, in the back of his mind, that the rest of his team is behind him. He can't see them, but he hears their heavy breathing and the splatter of their footsteps in the water underfoot.
And there's something else.
Fear. Not just fear though-panic, all-consuming and overwhelming, and it takes every last bit of his discipline and training to not freeze up right in the middle of the street. It's getting stronger as they draw near Naruto's shitty apartment building, a compulsion building in his limbs to turn tail and run.
He turns a corner, skidding slightly over the slippery stone, nearly gasping with relief as Naruto's building finally comes into view. The lights on the whole block are out, and there's only a single street lamp flickering tenuously. And under the unsteady light, flashing in and out of focus in the rain, is a man.
Far off, the village's alarm sirens go off, the piercing wail harmonizing with the howl of the vicious wind. The man tilts his head, listening to the haunting cacophony, and then slowly turns to face Team Ro.
Long, wet black hair is plastered to his face, cascading down his shoulders like a shroud; a dripping black robe emblazoned with red clouds hangs off his body. And when Kakashi looks into those glowing yellow eyes, sulfurous eyes that shine like beacons through the dark, his heart starts to race.
The tiny picture in the Bingo Book could never do this man justice, could never convey the way his mere presence makes Kakashi's clenched fists tremble, the way the man's eyes stop him from so much as breathing.
Orochimaru's mouth twists with a wide smile that resembles a gash, and a long tongue flicks out to taste the air. When he speaks, his voice is rich and sibilant, effortlessly burying its hooks into Kakashi's mind.
"What do we have here?" he says, a look of manic delight playing over his pale face.
There's a certain simplicity to combat. It doesn't matter that Itachi's own family hates him, it doesn't matter that he betrayed his clan, it doesn't matter that he ruins everything good in his life except for Shisui—
No, the only thing that matters right now is that there's a child in danger, and an enemy to be defeated. For just a moment, the entirety of the world boils down to just this, and Itachi craves it, craves how conflict cuts through everything else.
There's no hesitation from the members of Team Ro, not in the face of such a deadly adversary. Orochimaru is infamous, legendary-he's the notorious Snake Sage, one of the legendary Sannin of the Leaf, a man with no qualms and ruthless genius. Weapons are drawn in the blink of an eye, the four of them advancing warily down the street.
And Orochimaru hasn't stopped grinning, a horrific expression as the lipless mouth stretches wide and exposes jagged, needle-like teeth, and he lets out a satisfied sigh as he reaches both arms out, palms facing the rain-laden clouds far above them. His eyes bulge out, snakelike pupils dilating.
"Stop," he says, his voice distorted and deep, as if it were coming from a dozen throats.
The next thing Itachi knows is that he's on all fours, no idea where his weapon went, staring at the rainwater flowing between cobblestones inches from his nose as he gasps for breath. It feels like he's been punched repeatedly in the gut; he can barely stop himself from retching, and his heartbeat is a pounding drum that makes his head throb.
Itachi can tell it's a genjutsu, but he's never felt one this strong. It takes every ounce of control he has to activate his Sharingan, forcing chakra into his eyes and struggling to dispel the illusion. He takes solace in the burning sensation in his eyes, letting it ground him. Itachi glances up.
A couple feet away, Tenzo lays on his side, facing him. The brown-haired man is curled into a ball, eyes bloodshot and wide as he shakes uncontrollably. To Itachi's right, Shisui slowly gets to his feet, his eyes a furious shade of scarlet and mouth set in a determined line. Kakashi retches violently, something splattering as it hits the cobblestones, but then he's standing up too, his one Sharingan open.
"Such beautiful eyes," Orochimaru says. The man hasn't moved, his arms still spread as he watches the three Sharingan-users struggle to their feet. "It's a pity I'm not here for those at the moment."
"Surrender," Kakashi says, his voice surprisingly steady as he picks up blade and points it at Orochimaru. "You're outnumbered and outmatched, and the Hokage will be here soon. Surrender, and you won't come to any harm."
"Come stop me," Orochimaru replies with a mocking sneer, dropping his arms to his sides. "Go ahead. I'll even let you get a free hit in."
Kakashi glances in Shisui's direction, and Itachi feels his best friend's chakra flare as he moves. Shisui's body-flicker is so instantaneous, so perfectly executed, that Itachi's eyes can't even register the movement until Shisui reaches his destination.
Orochimaru wheezes, blood spraying out of his mouth and over the pale skin of his chin. Shisui twists the tanto that's embedded hilt-deep in the other man's chest, the unyielding steel no doubt ripping Orochimaru's heart to shreds.
And then the wheeze turns to a wet, gurgling chuckle as Orochimaru laughs, flecks of pink flying from his lips and dark red gushing from his chest and mixing with the water at his feet. Shisui looks startled, and he doesn't even see Orochimaru's hand moving until he's picked up and thrown through the air, soaring ten meters before slamming into a storefront with the crashing clatter of shattering glass.
He doesn't get up.
Orochimaru's fingers, ghostly-pale and streaked with his own blood, wrap around the hilt of the tanto and pull it free from his body, medallions of blood falling free. Before the torrential rain can wash the blade clean, he runs his long tongue over the stained metal, eyes drifting closed as he tastes his own blood.
Itachi sees the clear, tacky gel-like substance Orochimaru's tongue leaves behind; with his Sharingan, he can see the saliva has been infused with chakra.
"Some sort of toxin," Kakashi mutters to him, having noticed the same thing Itachi had. Itachi acknowledges his remark with a terse nod, fighting the urge to go back and check on Shisui. He's a former ANBU, a warrior, and he knows the best way to help his comrades is to stay focused.
They've worked together for years, the two of them, so when Kakashi lets lightning crackle over his body and charges in, Itachi knows to lay down covering fire. His fingers move through a half-dozen signs, impossibly fast, and streamers of white-hot fire burn through the rainstorm, sizzling steam swirling and rising.
Orochimaru doesn't even bother looking at Itachi's jutsu, simply waving his hand. The streets explode, chunks of earth rising up into a makeshift barrier that Itachi's flames sputter and die out against.
In the sudden darkness following the disappearance of his fire jutsu, Itachi can't quite see what happens next. But through the sound of the rain crashing into rooftops, he hears a wet crunch and a pained gasp, and Kakashi's body flies out of the dark to land, very neatly, at his feet.
Two yellow eyes gleam, twin flames piercing through the murk. In the flashing flicker of the single street lamp, Itachi sees snapshots of pure chaos. He can see the blood dripping from Kakashi's broken nose, soiling the man's silver hair. He can see Orochimaru shambling forward, grabbing a loose flap of flesh hanging out of his stab wound and shoving it back inside his own body.
And he sees an Uchiha fan, emblazoned on the back of a jacket, as a man steps between him and Orochimaru. The newcomer looks over his shoulder, and Itachi finds himself staring into familiar dark eyes.
"Stay back, Itachi," Fugaku says, his gaze softening for a moment. "Make sure your teammates are okay."