"Were you followed?" It was the standard question, asked at the beginning of each meeting. Itachi knew it was more of a formality than a legitimate concern, but he took one last cursory glance around the clearing for the shinobi's sake, his Sharingan wheeling.

It was, predictably, empty — save for the two of them, at least. There were no signs of his crows, either, so he felt confident in concluding that the larger area was clear as well. "I wasn't," he assured her, turning back and pulling the scroll from his cloak.

The shinobi's mask shifted slightly as she cocked her head to the side. "It's thin," she remarked blandly. She plucked the report from his hand and examined it, twirling it around her fingers. "Lord Danzo won't be happy about that."

It wasn't the first time he'd received the reprimand. Danzo, apparently, preferred his intelligence reports to be of a certain length, something that all of his Root members seemed to be acutely aware of. They were never thrilled when he handed over his report, thrown by how scant it appeared. Only a handful bothered to comment on it; most just pocketed it with a shrug, likely deciding that it wasn't their place to try and warn him about his behavior. He'd been paranoid the first time one of them mentioned it, though, wondering if Danzo was secretly punishing Sasuke for every missing paragraph. He managed to make his next reports a bit longer, echoes of his brother's screams punctuating every word he wrote, but the Root ninja he delivered them to remained unimpressed. He spent weeks believing he was slowly killing his brother, convinced that the next update he received on Sasuke would mention the horrible injuries he'd sustained as a result of Itachi's unintentional insubordination.

The update came.

And his brother turned out to be absolutely fine. Danzo, evidently, wasn't overly concerned about his reports being too short, choosing not to hold Itachi to the same standards that he plainly held his other subordinates to. The revelation proved to be a small relief, one that, admittedly, helped Itachi sleep far better at night.

The Root ninja, however, continued to scrutinize his reports. It was an annoyance, certainly, but he was content in the knowledge that their critiques had no bearing on him or his brother. If Danzo himself didn't care, than neither would Itachi. So he gave the woman a shrug. "The information is good," he insisted. He held out his own hand. "And mine?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a scroll, passing it to him. It balanced delicately in his palm, this saving grace of his. His update on Sasuke was the only thing he looked forward to anymore, the only reason he bothered getting out of bed each day.

The seal keeping the scroll shut broke apart as he let a quick surge of chakra flow through it. It was a simple seal, one that Danzo had taught him in the early hours of the morning before he was officially exiled from the village. Danzo assured him that it could only be opened by Itachi and Danzo himself, keeping all of their transmissions secure. He couldn't recall the details of the seal, had been, in all honesty, only half listening to Danzo's explanation given the circumstances, but it seemed reliable enough. Especially if Danzo was willing to hinge this operation on it.

He peeled open the scroll, scanning his eyes over Danzo's thin, angled writing. It took all of his willpower to keep a grin from spreading across his face.

The shinobi cleared her throat, and Itachi allowed a quick spark of chakra to surge into his hand. The scroll burst into flames. He looked back up at her, his features carefully composed as he let the parchment smolder. "Is that all?"

Her mask bobbed as she gave him a sharp nod. "Someone will be in touch for the next drop off," she promised. She didn't turn to leave, though; her gaze was locked on the flaming scroll, waiting for it to burn away completely so she could assure Danzo that it had been destroyed. It was another one of the man's requirements — Itachi was not to leave with any incriminating information. And since the Root shinobi themselves weren't permitted to see the contents of the scrolls, Itachi was required to destroy it in front of them before the meeting came to an end.

It took some time, but the scroll eventually turned to ash in his hand, a thin layer of chakra the only thing preventing his skin from bubbling and melting against its heat. He turned his wrist and watched as the cinders fell silently to the ground. When he looked back up, the shinobi was gone.

The trek back to the hideout was a long one, though Itachi could hardly claim to be bothered by it. It was a peaceful journey, one that gave him plenty of opportunity to think, to consider his future actions. Additionally...

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scroll.

It was a childish trick, really, just a simple sleight of hand Shisui had taught him one afternoon out of sheer boredom. The fact that he was using it to smuggle scrolls away from Root was comical, really, and he imagined that Shisui would've found it downright hilarious. "You're using that?" he would have laughed. "All the jutsu you know, and you went with a parlor trick?"

Though, upon further reflection, he supposed that Shisui probably would've been angrier about it given the circumstances. He'd probably bitch at him for taking such a huge risk, hinging both his and Sasuke's lives on nothing more than a simply deception.

Itachi knew that it was dangerous for him to take the scrolls — nonsensical, even. It could mean punishment for Sasuke if Danzo found out, or his own death if the Akatsuki somehow discovered them. But it was all he had of his home, all he had of his brother, and he couldn't bear to let it burn. The scrolls kept him grounded, reminded him why he continued to get up each day.

For Sasuke, he told himself. All of this is for Sasuke.

Digging a nail under the corner of the paper, he opened the scroll again. He almost expected the words to have disappeared, for him to have imagined their presence entirely. But Danzo's writing remained the same, scraggly and narrow and by far the best thing Itachi had seen in months. He wanted to reread the scroll in its entirety, to sear the information into his memory, but he couldn't get past the first sentence, his eyes getting stuck on the words.

Sasuke is being brought back into Konohagakure.

Sasuke was returning to the village. Finally. Finally.

He had waited years for this; it was what he had hoped for when he first set out on this horrendous mission, what he had spent every night dreaming of thereafter. His brother was going to have a life in the village, one that was free from the mistrust and suspicion that had plagued the Uchiha clan for years. There was no plotting to worry about, no coup — his brother was a blank slate.

He allowed a small smile to form on his face as he held out an arm. A crow descended onto it almost immediately, digging its toes into his cloak. The bird peered at him curiously as it shifted side to side, and Itachi ran the back of his hand over its fine feathers before presenting it with the scroll. The crow cocked its head, pecking at the offering lightly, experimentally, before carefully taking it into its beak.

"Hold onto that for me," Itachi asked. He held up his free hand in a simple sign. The crow disappeared in a puff of smoke.

• • •

Itachi had expected the Akatsuki hideout to be relatively inactive when he returned. Most of them were out on missions, so there was hardly anyone present to begin with. He and Kisame were meant to head towards the Land of Earth that afternoon themselves, so he had figured he would only step inside to grab a few supplies before finding Kisame and leaving once again.

But, apparently, they had a visitor.

"The name's Tobi!" A gloved hand was unceremoniously shoved in Itachi's face mere seconds after he walked through the entrance. He gave the masked figure it belonged to a disdainful glance, but the look did little to deter the man's exuberance. "Nice to meet ya!"

Itachi didn't deign him with a response, instead taking notice of the ring on his thumb. So this is Sasori's replacement, then.

He heard Kisame laugh. A heavy hand landed on Itachi's shoulder a moment later. "Don't mind him, Tobi," Kisame grinned, "he's never in a good mood."

Tobi giggled — giggled — and withdrew his hand. "That's fine!" he assured Itachi. "I'm sure once we get to know each other —" Itachi ignored the man and let the familiar burn of chakra collect behind his eyes. A mild sting began to pulse through them, and he fought against the urge to rub at his eyes as he scrutinized the man standing before him.

"Ooohhh," Tobi crowed, interrupting himself. "Is that the Sharingan?" He gasped suddenly and leaned back, a hand on his chest. "That means that you must be the Itachi Uchiha!" Even with the mask obscuring his features, Tobi's glee was palpable. "I've heard all about you —"

"Would you hurry up, Tobi!" Deidara called from the other end of the hideout, his voice echoing off the cavernous walls.

Itachi leaned to the side to avoid Tobi's flailing limbs as the man abruptly turned and sprinted away from them. "Coming, Deidara!" Tobi lifted a hand as he ran. "It was nice meeting you both!" he called over his shoulder. "Maybe we can —"

"Tobi —"

"I'm sorry —"

Kisame cocked his head as Tobi and Deidara walked deeper into the hideout, leaving behind a blessed, blessedsilence. "He's an interesting one, don't you think?" he remarked, looking down at Itachi.

Itachi allowed his Sharingan to fade. Interesting was an understatement. "Where's he from?"

Kisame only shrugged. "Not sure," he admitted. "He didn't exactly get around to telling me before he got distracted. He was very impressed with Samehada." Kisame grinned. "I give him a month."

Itachi tilted his head, considering. He hadn't sensed anything extraordinary about the man, but he knew he had to have some unusual ability; the Akatsuki wouldn't have recruited him otherwise.

"Three weeks," Itachi eventually decided. "He's partnered with Deidara, after all."

Kisame snickered. "Better him than me, I suppose." He lifted Samehada over his shoulder. "Let's leave before they come back. I don't want to have to listen to Deidara complain any more than I already have."

• • •

Kisame wasn't a bad partner, per se. In fact, given what the Akatsuki had to offer, he was relatively top-notch. The homicidal tendencies were a drawback, Itachi would admit, but he felt that he and Kisame had come to a relatively acceptable agreement concerning that. It was simple: Kisame would try his very best not to kill anyone, and Itachi wouldn't bitch at him if their target happened to lose a limb. It wasn't perfect, but Itachi didn't exactly have much room to complain, not if he wanted the Akatsuki to keep believing he was also a criminal with homicidal tendencies. Which occasionally proved to be a difficult task. Like now, for instance.

Kisame threw Itachi a large, toothy grin, prodding the severed head in front of him with Samehada. "Well, that was unfortunate," he mused.

Itachi flicked his gaze down to the dead man's face. His eyes were glassy and vacant, his tongue drooping against a mess of blood and broken teeth. He sighed. "He might have had information."

Kisame poked at the head again. "Perhaps," he acknowledged. "Nothing that someone else doesn't know, though, I'm sure." He pushed at the head, forcing it to roll a few inches towards Itachi. The Iwagakure headband tied loosely around it fell to the ground with a dull thump. "And this way, we at least got to have some fun."

Itachi made sure to keep his face impassive. Fun certainly wasn't the word he would've used.

The man's body was lying a few feet away, his limbs contorted in a heap of unnatural angles. Itachi motioned towards it with a small tilt of his head. "What would you like to do with the body?"

Kisame shrugged, hoisting Samehada back over his shoulder. "Leave it?" Itachi leveled Kisame with a flat stare, his Sharingan still spinning. Kisame only grinned at him. "You're too paranoid," he chided, evidently amused. "He was a nobody; Iwagakure isn't going to think this was anything other than a random attack. There's no good reason to waste time covering our tracks."

Itachi frowned, looking back down at the head. He couldn't say he was particularly worried about the man's death tipping the village off to their mission. There was nothing about the scene that suggested the Akatsuki's involvement, let alone something that suggested they were looking for the Four-Tails' Jinchuriki. They were still miles away from the village, so it wasn't even certain that the body would be found, not immediately. Nevertheless, it felt wrong to leave the shinobi lying there to rot in the dirt, at the mercy of the elements and whatever scavengers were slinking around the Land of Earth. It was a cruel fate, and Itachi couldn't help but wonder if the man had a family at home, people who were waiting for him to return from his mission. He had appeared to be traveling away from the village, so there was no telling when he was expected to return. It could be days, maybe even weeks, before someone came looking for him.

But he couldn't say that, of course. He couldn't say any of that. So he turned away from Kisame and started walking, resuming their slow, meandering pace to Iwagakure. He didn't believe in karma, not really, but he took some comfort in the thought that he'd likely share a similar fate to the dead man's, anyway.

Kisame's shoes scraped against the hard earth as he trailed after Itachi. They walked for a mile or so, and then Itachi heard Kisame's footsteps stop entirely.

He peered over his shoulder to see Kisame looking to his left. Itachi tried to figure out what the man was staring at, but all he could see was the great expanse of dirt and rocks.

He looked back at Kisame, waiting for him to offer some explanation. It took a few moments, but Kisame eventually pulled his attention away from the horizon and gave Itachi a crooked grin.

"There's a town a few miles that way that Deidara's always talking about." He tilted his head westward. "You want to —"

Itachi sighed and turned around. "No."

Kisame let out a short, barking laugh. "That was a quick decision."

He continued to walk, trusting that Kisame would drop the subject. "We're supposed to be tracking the Four-Tails," Itachi reminded him, "not sightseeing."

It took him a moment to realize he couldn't hear Kisame's footsteps, and he looked to see that the man still hadn't moved.

"Come on," Kisame implored. "We've been walking through this wasteland for days. It might be nice to rest in someplace civilized for a night or two."

Itachi would've been lying if he said he wasn't enticed by the idea. The rocky terrain was hardly pleasant, and his stiff limbs ached at the mere idea of getting to sleep on an actual bed. Had he joined the Akatsuki in earnest, he probably wouldn't have fought against the suggestion at all, simply deferring to Kisame and allowing him to lead them there.

But, of course, his life wasn't that simple.

Itachi narrowed his eyes at Kisame, weighing the chances of his suggestion being a mere loyalty test. Itachi had been with the Akatsuki for a few years, but he knew he wasn't trusted, not entirely. Rightfully so, he supposed, given the fact that he was spying on them. It gave him little room to maneuver within, either way, forcing him to constantly worry about whether something he did could be interpreted as traitorous. And while the promise of a soft bed seemed benign enough, he was skeptical. A yes could easily be misconstrued, used to claim that he wasn't devoted to the mission, that he'd oh-so easily put aside his assigned task in favor of some comfort. It was a screw up that he couldn't risk.

He pictured his brother in Konoha, living a long, happy life. It was imperative that he stayed in the Akatsuki's favor; so long as he did that, his brother would stay safe. And he couldn't risk jeopardizing all that for a bed.

Itachi shook his head. "We need to complete the mission as soon as possible," he insisted.

Itachi saw the whites of Kisame's eyes as the man nearly rolled them into the back of his skull. "You're no fun," he groused, looking mournfully in the direction of the supposed town. "A bed would've been nice."

It would've, Itachi silently agreed. "We'll reach Iwagakure in a few days," he reasoned instead. "We can rest after we've captured and extracted the Four-Tails."

• • •

Itachi and Kisame didn't end up capturing the Four-Tails. Not that Itachi particularly cared; in fact, he was mildly relieved by the fact that their information had been incorrect and the Jinchuriki was out of the village for the time being. It did, however, mean that he was now stuck visiting the far off town with Kisame since he didn't exactly have an excuse not to.

Itachi hadn't been expecting much, but even he was mildly impressed by how decrepit it turned out to be.

"A bit of a dump, isn't it?" Kisame said as he warily eyed the dilapidated inn, its sign proudly declaring that its rooms were completely rodent free. "Maybe we were better off sleeping on the ground."

Itachi only grunted before walking inside.

The smell was the first thing he noticed — it hit him as soon as he walked through the door, overwhelming his senses entirely. It was a musky floral scent, and after a quick look around the room, he could safely say that he had no idea where it was coming from.

He heard Kisame's breath catch behind him, and he turned to see that the man had a hand against his nose. "I know I suggested this," he acknowledged, his voice muffled, "but I really think we should —"

A young boy's head popped up from behind the counter. His eyes widened. "Guests, mama!" he howled, slapping his hands flat against the wood in his excitement. "We have guests!"

Kisame raised an arm and gave the boy an uneasy smile. "Actually, we were just lea —"

"Coming!" A young woman tottered from the back room, holding a number of files and loose papers against her chest. She dropped them on the counter with a muttered curse, then ran a hand through her frazzled hair and gave Itachi and Kisame a large smile. "You two looking for a room?"

"We weren't —"

"Yes," Itachi interrupted. "If you have one."

The woman nodded enthusiastically, her earrings bouncing. The boy was still watching them. "Of course! I'll just need you to fill out a few forms..." She leaned down, starting to go through what sounded like a number of drawers in an effort to locate the paperwork.

Kisame turned to him, his eyes wide. "Why did you do that?"

Itachi looked around, taking notice of a few unsightly stains on the walls. "We walked all the way here," he figured. "It won't kill us." And I want to sleep in a damn bed for a change.

"Here we are!" The woman threw a large stack of paper onto the counter. "Just sign all these, and then I'll be happy to get you a room!"

Kisame very nearly gawked at her. "What's all that for —"

"Fill them out," Itachi requested. He felt Kisame's glare piercing through him, but Itachi only ignored the man, instead turning to leave the inn. "I'm going to see if the stores have any supplies we might need in the meantime."

Kisame wasn't one to pout, but Itachi imagined that his current expression was the closest he'd ever come to doing so. "Why don't you finish the paperwork and I'll —"

"I shouldn't be more than an hour," Itachi promised. And then he left.

• • •

The rest of the town turned out to be just as rundown as the inn. There were a few empty bars, a collection of cramped apartments, and only one shop that appeared like it might have anything useful to sell.

Itachi stepped inside the shop, a bell ringing dully as he pushed open the door. It was dimly lit, and there appeared to be a layer of dust covering just about every inch of it. Had it not been for the brightly lit OPEN sign hanging in the front window, he would've thought it abandoned entirely.

He canvassed the aisles, looking for anything that might prove useful on their trip. It wasn't a shop meant for shinobi, that much was clear, so he hardly expected to find any sort of weaponry or tools. But he supposed that the shop might have something edible that he and Kisame could eat.

He settled on a few items that seemed harmless enough, some assorted nuts and dried meat, and walked up to the counter. An old woman peered up at him from behind large glasses as he placed the items down, giving him a toothless smile.

"We don't get many travelers these ways," she wheezed, holding her hand out for payment. Itachi dropped a few coins into her palm, and she brought them close to her face for inspection. "What brings you out here?"

Espionage, he thought dryly.

"Just traveling." She began counting out the money, a slow, arduous process. With nothing else to occupy himself with, he glanced up and began considering the numerous pictures lining the wall behind the counter.

There were an assortment of photos, some old, some new. He recognized the old woman in a few of them. She was standing in front of the shop in one, arm in arm with a tall, stern looking man who he suspected was her husband; then there she was in a house, her arms encircling two young women with babies in their arms; and then she was kneeling on the ground, a small boy —

Itachi felt his breath catch. He tried to lean forward as inconspicuously as he could, peering at the photo with an unbridled intensity he couldn't control. It wasn't his brother — he knew that, of course — but the resemblance between the two boys was uncanny.

"That's my grandson." Itachi glanced down to see the old woman holding out a shaky hand, a few coins in her palm. He felt his skin begin to burn, embarrassed at being caught staring so openly.

"Sorry," he apologized, taking the change with a small nod of thanks. "He looks like someone I know."

The old woman nodded, turning around to consider the photo herself. "Eito was a good boy," she mused. "He disappeared a few years back, along with his mother." She reached and lifted the frame from the wall, cradling it lovingly in her wrinkled hands. "They were traveling to Iwagakure. Just for the weekend; it was Eito's birthday, and he wanted to see the big city." Her voice began to quiver, and she pushed up her glasses to wipe at her eyes.

Itachi was never good at offering anyone comfort, so he stood silently at the counter, watching her and trying to ignore the sympathetic ache growing in his own chest.

The woman soon returned the picture to the wall. "They never came back," she said. "Weren't found dead, nothing. They were just here one day, and then they were gone." Itachi thought about the dead man he and Kisame had left behind. He wondered if the man's family would tell a similar story about him.

The old woman looked back at him, shaking herself. "My apologies, young man," she smiled. "I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to an old goat reminisce." She handed him a crumpled brown bag. "Be careful out there, now."

Itachi only nodded. He grabbed the bag carefully, tried to focus on the rough texture of it against his fingers to remind himself that he wasn't, in fact, numb.

He deposited the leftover change into the woman's small tip jar. The bell rang as he walked out.