When one kind of medusa faces another type of mirror, the effect is unprecedented. In what way will they crack and how deep does the damage go? Destroy surface guises and peer beneath into Epiphany…

Disclaimers: Borrowing bits of Naruto, which will be returned with no change.

A/N: Random Muses, Relative Definitions… and Buried Revelations: The final side of the triangle, which completes this trilogy about certain aspects of thoughts and beliefs concerning Uchiha Itachi. It's been a self-satisfying mini-thesis, in which lies and truth are challenged. And for once, look at the points to view, not points of view… step out of angles and observe from beyond the corners.

Setting: Almost a year since Sasuke abandoned Konoha.

Anything in Italics denotes primary, conclusive thoughts. Secondary thoughts will be in normal font.

Buried Revelations

"Never thought I'd say this, but I enjoy the view from peace for once, Itachi-san."

"Rest is always needed, in order to replenish the fuel for war and power."

Orochimaru's influence is showing. What actually happened in their fight before that sannin left our organization? Better not ask again, or he'll…

For a country that is lacking in water, the sight of any type of waterways is rare. Hence, to be passing by calm aquamarine liquid is a treat to be savoured. But perceived depth is deceptive, with a strong undercurrent running beneath its mildly reflective surface. Hardly any trees, a clear view as far as the eye can see… they'll come to a crossroads soon. Then he'll have to give up the eye candy, for the path they must take branches away from the river's course. Giving up on idle chitchat and running a damp tongue over pointed enamel tips, alertness notes the short person walking towards them from the opposite direction. What's a child doing out here, unsupervised?

As the relaxed figure meanders closer, world-weary vision takes in that one's features distractedly. This girl looks to be about Sasuke's age. Faces look the same to him, save for a few. The rest are discarded into oblivion after their use is over. No exception here.

"Uchiha-sama. I would like to speak with you."

Respectful, yet high-handed… Kisame frowns. They've stopped moving. So has the other. It looks as if the Sharingan prodigy is exasperated. He has to do the dirty work again, and snarls, "Run for your life, runt. Or be prepared to die."

"All I require is some… information from you. I hope you'll co-operate."

Even as this stranger addresses him, Itachi has been surveying every detail of this five-foot-tall picture in calmness, as he does in any situation. Various patches of smudged dinginess on a simple cream-coloured robe over fitted black pants. Marginally frayed hems. Fully bandaged hands. Worn looking zori. Battered leather pouch probably contains ninja apparel such as kunai and shuriken hanging on a purple belt.

This one's used to traveling. Mainly for gathering information, I suppose. No sign of other weapons. Used to concealment and blending in, making it hard to conclude any more from her person. Still…

"He's under no obligation to agree. Neither am I to tolerate your presence."

"It has nothing to do with Akatsuki, only the slaughter of your nearest and dearest."

It will be such a pleasure to hack this one to bits, pacifying the strong surge of venomous loathing streaking through his veins. His partner is still not responding. Wait, that look-

"I'll answer. Only if you can defeat Kisame."

It's not just a condition. It's an inevitable battle for her survival.

"My life for your truth, eh…" is accompanied by a resigned shrug, as hands dangling by her side come together, fingertips loosely touching. Glaring rays of the mid-afternoon sun highlight teeth bared in the hideous parody of a grin as drawing Samehada, Kisame charges.

So far, it had gone as she predicted. What Ori did not expect was the sheer viciousness of her target's counterpart. Savage, yes. Cruel? Definitely. But ferocious skill coupled with superhuman strength was a jarring shock to her system. She had underestimated this one.

He dispelled her shadow replications so easily, and her first deductions in this fight had been confirmed by the painful sensation of that bandaged weapon tearing across her right arm. The lightning bolts of Raikou Bakuha no Jutsu had been absorbed by that blade. It efficiently sucked chakra from all sides of the covered surfaces, while flaying her doppelgangers. She couldn't allow any more contact. Not that she could worry about it now. Her problem was not drowning. Damn the jutsu Hoshigaki Kisame had used, that pinioned her underwater but above the riverbed without contact, so she was unable to get any leverage from anything.

She would be out of oxygen soon.

Calm down. Focus. Have to get out of this. Then can berate myself later for taking him too lightly…

This presumptuous chit was finished. What a boring fight. Once he had countered Kage Bunshin no Jutsu, he halted her speedy taijutsu (and that ninjutsu) attacks and knocked away shuriken attached with explosive tags. Wounding her with Samehada had caused her to falter and back off momentarily. That sliver of time was all he needed to conclude. Using Suiton Suikoudan no Jutsu to strike the enemy into the water, he used a slight modification to hold her there.

Facing the direction of the current flow should greatly impact on the ability to think and add to panic. I left your arms and legs free so you can struggle hopelessly, just before you die…

One could see the practically solidified torrent of water that kept her firmly in place. She should have rested after all that journeying, to regain more stamina before going after them. Impatience might be her downfall after all. Caution must be exercised in future events.

Focus!

Resisting the urge to panic and choke was difficult. Sounds would have no effect on this watery cage. Her musical instrument would only prolong the fight and with such diminished chakra, it was detrimental to her. It was a gamble. An overgrown weapon that gradually consumes chakra from all angles indeed…

Summoning it will help me break free and bolster my speed, which is all I need to counterattack. Hopefully that will add enough advantage to the element of surprise and end this battle.

Ignoring searing pain in her right arm, she kept both eyes tightly closed. Swiftly tearing off white bandages covering the left upper limb, slim fingers bent as if poised to grip something cylindrical-shaped. Carefully palming a small sharp needle in her right hand, she relaxed further. Chakra began to flow, generating and gathering in her left hand.

"Just a little longer, to be sure."

There was no reply from his shorter comrade, who was no longer watching the river like him, but was looking in the direction of their destination.

A mild tingle ran through his battle-heated blood. It had slackened severely.

Translucent liquid burst in all directions from the gurgling surface, as his victim shot out of its watery depths. Teeth gritted, absolute fury blanketing coal-black eyes, and in her hand-

What is- He hefted up his primary weapon once more in reflexive defense, as Itachi turned to see what his partner was staring at.

Chakra? Extremely concentrated- Kisame, don't-

Glowing gray mist sharpened into sizzling silver, narrowed vengeance was angled to meet one definite point on that wretched block of white wrappings. Automatically swinging Samehada to block this unforeseen assault resulted in- Before any one of them could react further, both blades collided.

The explosion was deafening. Not to mention blinding.

After throwing it with a deft flick of the right wrist, buffeting force of the aftershock sent her skidding backwards, leaving marked furrows in loose soil. She managed to stop herself at the very edge of the riverbank. Ori was not in the mood for a second dunking. Much greater effort was exerted to retain the sword, as smoke and dust cleared to help her confirm the outcome of that action.

All that remains of the former shinobi-gatana's treasure lies scattered in tiny flakes on gritty soil.

Harshly sucking in deep mouthfuls of life-giving air, it made the left side of her ribs hurt. A moment longer, and then she'd try to stand.

A cold, baleful gaze remained on the drenched figure, emphasised by unceasing dripping of water into surrounding earth. Keeping his attention on the girl -who is breathing raggedly in between uneven panting and is down on one knee- her somewhat burnt left hand was tightly clutching a weapon that slowly diminished into blankness. Stepping backwards gracefully, eventually he was by Kisame's side. The missing-nin was unconscious, probably the result of absorbing the full force of that last maneuver.

That odd technique and manner of chakra being utilised… she must be from the Country of Lightning.

Going down on his knees, lifting up and carefully arranging his partner, Kisame's heavier body droops about unyielding shoulders. Standing up, he stares at the adolescent who was rising slowly to her feet. After another long moment, Itachi strides off in the direction of the nearest forest he can remember. It is better than waiting for an obligation he now has to honour, which was wearily running to a bush not too far off to retrieve a neat bundle before going after him.

He hated delays. And detours.

A small fire has been stoked into fierceness, even though it's not necessary. Although shadows have lengthened, the sun has not yet set.

This temporary bandage will suffice until she is far away enough from them later. Being reluctant to breach the barrier of silence between them, yet every small motion he makes signifies a deliberate attempt at ignoring her presence. Ori resents that as much as wringing out excess water from her sodden clothes.

"I'll try and keep it short. Why did you kill those in your clan?"

No answer.

"Didn't you have everything? Favoured heir; secure in position, power and talent… or…"

Wondering why his fellow Akatsuki member hasn't woken up yet, her objective is also studying the intricate design covering the whole of this inquisitor's left hand from the corner of his eyes.

"It would be a terrible way of dying. Stagnating on your hoisted pedestal, and limited by family."

Nothing new or unusual so far. This one carries herself with a self-assured mix of confidence and authority. There's no particular adornment that she wears. Everything is plain, devoid of frivolity. The tattoo is comprised of varying dips, swirls and dots he cannot understand, but looking at it for too long… brown complex patterns seems to coil and weave lazily.

Sensing his surveillance on that portion of her anatomy, fingers reach into her bundle and take out some bandages. She begins speedily winding cream-coloured strips about the exposed hand while continuing with, "That is why I need to know about this from someone who's experienced it firsthand. To understand whether it's worth breaking free of such cumbersome constraints."

Now she has his attention. Noting wavering purpose in otherwise expressionless eyes, he is intrigued but does not hesitate to show his irritation.

"You have a lot to hide, because you have a lot to lose. That symbol on your left hand not only demarcates power, but the status you hold in your clan. It's useless to pretend."

Done with restoring her 'glove' while slightly shaken by his statement, shadowy pupils stare into crimson shutters topped with three flame-shaped whorls.

"If you can't make the decision for yourself, don't even bother trying. Go back to the hidden village of Cloud."

Slight widening of surprised pupils is accompanied by an almost inaudible but annoyed sigh as she replies. "Your deed gave me an idea. I have aspirations, but I need inspiration. Cocooned by the clan, my potential is being repressed. Then I saw the light. Outcasts, mourners, failures… they were my answer.

"The unforgettable torment they experience is intense, but that makes them want to improve on their lot in life. Now I am stuck on a plateau in my training. In order to advance, I have to create a sensation… an inspiration to rival such feeling. Not just any ordinary kind, but one so traumatic as to greatly spur me on for the rest of my life, however short or long it may be. The only option seems to be guilt-ridden pain. After all, what other choice do I have? Overprotected…"

A humourless snicker escapes closed lips.

"You should know what I speak of. I will never be content with what I have. Can you?"

He wonders if he's picked up a faulty clone. She cannot fathom what he is. Arrogant, pretentious brat!

"People are strange. My cousin, the present leader always tells me: You are truly strong if you fight for those you cherish, but not for yourself."

Yes. He's heard that before from deceased parents.

"I agree. Hence every duel, every battle, every bit of improvement is dedicated to the one who will slay me someday. I do not think about the face, nor can I guess the identity but this I do know: That unknown entity will receive all my love and hate. I will only be satisfied dying at the hands of someone better than me."

So that is her ultimate goal. If Sasuke should fail to live up to his standards- Her mindset is starting to rouse interest. But is she telling him the complete truth?

Reaching into her bundle again, she draws out a small flask and a greaseproof paper-wrapped package. Opening it up, the cloud-nin takes out a piece of beef jerky. Offering it to the solemn man who declines politely, she tucks it back into the bundle and unscrews the cap for a drink.

"If you wish to copy me, then you are unoriginal and uninspiring."

Taking a long dram before recapping it, she looks back at him once more. Her body language mirrors his, then she leans forward slightly with the faintest hint of amusement.

"You only tried to destroy your clan. I have much bigger intentions. Unlike you, I don't intend to leave behind any signs of failure."

A chill skitters down his spine. Dim light in those peaceful eyes look sane. She is very different from warmth of anger douses unease and masks his discomfort.

"You'll be exiled; labeled 'evil' and reviled."

"Don't go mellow on me now, Uchiha-sama. The only thing that matters is ensuring continuous increase in skill and power. Evil… I'll tell you what it means."

Thought of the steep challenge ahead encompassing the entire village curdles her insides with near-breathless excitement. Hachi-niisan…you will be the tip of the melting iceberg.

"Those who call themselves good, label everyone else who is different as evil. So if you disagree with me, I can call you evil and regard myself as good, can't I? And vice versa. But for what we are or will be? Those we kill would have ensured the deaths of others. Sacrificing one for the good of many… Missing-nins are the unacknowledged balancing scales, the unsung heroes of all shinobi. Being too good is only completing the circle towards evil, unless there is a counterpoint. How then, would one truly define good or evil?"

Rendering him completely speechless in the convoluted, erratic remnants of her reasoning...

Putting the packet of dried meat back into her organized bundle, she ties the four ends together, knotting it firmly and sighs. "Then again, nobody's ever won this argument with me, on the rare occasion when it's brought up."

A childish puckering of pale lips forms a moue of distaste or disgust.

"Probably because they didn't live long enough."

The air has grown cooler, making her shiver slightly. She must change out soon into dry clothes or risk illness.

Shaken back into his senses once more, he considers killing this one for pestering him. Or at least that's the reason Itachi gives himself.

Pulling herself up to stand, holding the pack of possessions gently in one hand, a slender figure turns her back on the other individual in this quiet clearing. A playful breeze ruffles raven hair bound back in a loose ponytail. It also shuffles black wispy strands tipped with grey.

"You could kill me now. However, your partner was wounded with a poisoned needle. You might not care about his life, but I reckon Akatsuki would have a hard time finding a suitable replacement that you all can agree on, ne?"

Now he is seething inwardly. Realizing that bluish skin has a tinge of unhealthy grey and is dotted with sweat-

She could deduce that channeling excessive energy into Samehada at only one point would cause the weapon to overload on chakra too fast and explode. Chances are, she'd planned to fight Kisame and anticipated his response. This one weaves more strategies and traps than a spider. Even now, she still dictates the movement of pieces on the board… He must wait for her next step. Grudgingly admitting in silence that her ability to collect and use information is as skilled as the ploy(s) she has executed, it only hardens and magnifies his dislike. Icy daggers of visual wrath sink into the petite female who stands firmly in her spot.

"You have your fate to succumb to. I have my destiny to pursue."

Both have measured each other, possibly found something lacking, and simultaneously wish never to encounter the other again.

"So please answer my one honest inquiry to you: Is the agony worth it?" A dash of innocent uncertainty hovers in the timbre verging on maturity.

No answer is forthcoming, for the time it takes a dragonfly to flap its wings.

"Yes."

"Liar."

Does she suspect the truth? She's affectionately and assiduously calling his bluff in another context, and he understands what she's referring to. It creates a queer painful bond of mutually respectful bittersweet intimacy, lasting for a fickle moment in this meeting.

Turning her head slightly to the left, she tosses a tiny box over that shoulder. The action is an outlet for relief she does not display. She does not know if she is disappointed or satisfied. She is getting better at gambling. Soon she will not have to worry about her fear towards this man. It sails through the air to land untouched at his feet. Sensing unsettling intensity in unblinking eyes that she does not wish to challenge or understand, bandaged hands hastily form the required seals at the same time.

He is left alone with an unconscious friend once more.

There is much to ponder, but there are more pressing matters to attend to first.

The only light comes from the fire. Scanning exposed flesh for the incredibly fine needle, he finds it embedded in that stout neck. All vital tissues have been avoided. Shifting, he accommodates Kisame's head in his lap. Using chakra to dislodge and yank the offensive metal sliver out, he opens the lid on this small wooden container, emptying the single lime-green pill present onto a deeply lined palm. Nimbly picking it up between two fingers, the other free hand reaches out to pick up an abandoned flask. Slipping the antidote between dry lips, Itachi presses certain points on that throat, following it up with a dosage of water to ensure he swallows.

Then easing himself away from his partner, he moves to the other side of the campfire.

Thinking back, it's as if he's raised the curtain on a distorted mirror image, and he doesn't have words for what he's seen.

Sitting back down, he brings both knees up against his chest, arms hugging toned muscle and cool flesh. Gazing into passive reddish-orange flames, the thick cloak he wears is insignificant at this point. Dense shadows blend with thick foliage to mask ruminating emotion.

And he waits for him to wake up.

Owari

A/N: I hope I made the OC teenager Ori annoying enough, as she is still growing.