i.
The first thought in Itachi's mind when he sees Kisame from afar is one single word:
Monster.
Because of course it is, and it can't be a terribly original idea, either. Someone who looks like that likely heard about it all his life; Itachi, from the very few times he's been to Water Country in his short time in this world, is sure that though he's seen his fair share of razor-sharp fangs among its denizens, those that look so startlingly shark-like are not the norm.
That is all, at least at first. They'd gone on their separate paths until circumstance necessitates their extended cooperation. He fights from rolling his eyes as Kisame sizes him up the moment they're alone, and truly Itachi is tired. He's been tired for years, long before that horrible day and long before he joined up with the Akatsuki out of necessity and long before he sent Orochimaru running with his tail between his legs. He's tired of his reputation preceding him and he's tired of people thinking he's nothing but a cold and calculating killer of the worst sort.
...Though he can't entirely fault anyone for that, either. Even if he's only pretending that the deaths of his family by his own hand are not played in loop every time he blinks, well, does that not still make him cruel?
But it's no matter. Kisame seems impassioned, at least from what little Itachi knows of his mannerisms. He talks to the point of rambling that the both of them have secured their places in hell for crimes most heinous.
Ah, thinks Itachi, so that's it. He doesn't know if he's before heard if his new partner too is a comrade-killer, but now things fall into understanding. Pein had—privately—given the younger man the order to keep close watch on the older. Whether he is up to something or has a habit of killing his partners much like that strange man Kakuzu, Itachi doesn't necessarily care. He's already seen hell, living in it every moment he breathes, and there is not a man nor monster alive who can kill him. Not for some time, anyway.
He stands but does not turn, drawing on his brief time as an ANBU captain as he addresses Kisame in an authoritative tone. What he says he keeps vague by design, not willing to face how torn up he truly is inside but not willing to let anyone think they can just say whatever they want without consequence.
"It is not until we die," he says evenly, "that we can know who we truly are. Perhaps that is something you should keep in mind."
"Oh?" Kisame's curiosity is piqued. It's not quite the reaction he expects, and he turns slowly as the other man goes on, "Is that a threat?"
Itachi, though, feels frozen to the dock where he stands. Though his eyes aren't what they used to be, they're standing close enough that he can see clearly Kisame is the most handsome thing he's ever beheld. Gill slits billow at the corners of his eyes, cutting across high cheekbones that angle down to a mouth that, despite his overall size, seems just a bit too wide for his face. He is smiling slightly, his eyes somewhere between man and beast as they stare at each other.
He's taken that stunned silence as an answer, and when he smiles wider it's a sinister thing, the sunlight catching on one of those impossibly sharp teeth. "Well then—shall we be off, Itachi-san?"
Itachi nearly forgets how to breathe. For all of that vibrato he hadn't noticed just how politely he'd been speaking, and he's caught so off guard to hear the honorific attached to his name that he simply blinks once with deliberate slowness, steadying himself.
He is glad that he has a reputation as a quiet type, for he finds himself quite intimidated every time he as much as glances in Kisame's direction. But that is stupid, because Itachi isn't intimidated by anything anymore. It is early on that they're sent across the border of Earth Country to fetch a new recruit, and he's so relieved that he almost doesn't care his sigh of relief is audible enough that it turns the head of Sasori within his puppet. Having someone else alongside them, somehow, helps ease the tension in Itachi's mind.
The person for whom they've been sent is barely older than himself, and drones for so long about the importance of art that he doesn't notice at first that he's been trapped within the Sharingan. It's admirable, really—though any bit of interest Itachi's taken in it is soured when that all too familiar pain spikes through his skull. He does not wince or hiss, choosing instead to consider this a divine punishment and take it in stride. If the consequence of using his family's sacred technique to slaughter them all is this, then he will accept it.
He's given a fraction of conscious thought to the genjutsu, because like most opponents that's all it takes to brin g him down. It is as the other man sinks to his knees in tears that Itachi tries not to be upset, because it means going back to reality—and also would be a terrible embarrassment for his comrades to think him soft in the midst of battle. He blinks a few times against the sting as the pinwheel patterns swirl in deactivation, and when he again can focus enough to give his full attention to the real world, he cannot help but notice that Kisame is watching him and has been for some time. Then, when their gazes catch, he bristles slightly and glances away far less like a monster and much more like a man.
Itachi is quite adept at pretending, and he pretends perhaps harder than ever that his heart does not thump loudly in his chest to see it.