"But Ruth replied, "Don't ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your will God be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the LORD punish me severely if I allow anything but death to separate us!" - Ruth 1:16-17 NLT
Shisui startles as a hand clamps down on his shoulder.
"Good work on that last mission, Bear-san," His ANBU captain jovially says, "Looks like you'll be taking my spot soon."
Shisui lets out a joking scoff. "As if. You just got me with that handclap, after all," He says, trying to assuage any lingering tendrils of a broken ego. Besides, even if Shisui could go against the Hokage toe to toe, no one would let him have a higher spot than ANBU jockey. Granted, it was a high-ranking job, but it was evened out with close brushes to death and a strict command chain.
Shisui's arms go up in goosebumps as another unfamiliar mask passes them in the hallway, the stranger's movements stiff and economical. He resists the urge to shudder. At least Shisui hasn't been taking missions from fucking ROOT anymore.
His superior hums from behind him, dragging him out of his thoughts. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. Hokage-sama just asked for you."
Shisui blinks. "Little old me?
Shisui thinks that, if he looks close enough, he can spot the creases of skin that show a wide, sadistic grin. "Little old you," They agree.
Shisui swallows, feeling very much like a little fish in a sea of sharks as his captain saunters away. But the feeling has always been constant, so he shrugs it off, methodically taking off his mask and armor within the privacy of the ANBU lockers.
He tries making his steps confident and sure as they trek down the hall to the Hokage's office, but the silence that greets him along the barren walls offers neither comfort nor expectation. The quiet chokes him, a whirlwind of expectations plaguing Shisui's mind — all of them more horrendous than the next.
The secretary stands up when he sees Shisui walk past the corner, his face grimmer than Shisui's own. "The Hokage will see you now, Uchiha-sama."
Shisui nods as if he was expecting it and walks through, holding his breath all the while like a genin on his first C rank. Get a hold of yourself, he chides, but even that part of his personality isn't so confident.
"Hokage-sama," He announces, bowing low as he steps into the well-lit room. The light behind the windows blankets his leader, purposely throwing his aged face into shadow.
"Uchiha-san," The Hokage acknowledges. Shisui lifts his gaze up, heart almost pounding out of his chest. "Konoha has a mission for you." He gestures a withered hand towards a mission scroll tucked innocuously in a corner.
Shisui can tell it is no normal mission, but he quells his sense of urgency. With a nod from the Hokage, he inches closer, grabbing the scroll and reading it with sharinganed eyes.
"Hokage-sama?" He asks, brows purposefully furrowed to convey his confusion. "I don't understand."
Hiruzen hums, methodically puffing at his pipe in what Shisui would tentatively describe as a nervous tick. "I'm afraid your mission is as vague as I described, Shisui-kun. My former student," The words are said pointedly, leaving no wonder as to who he was describing, "Is under the fire of rumors circulating the development of a new shinobi village. I need someone—" Pressed in at all corners , Shisui mentally fills in, "Trustworthy to figure out if they have merit. This requires the utmost discretion."
Shisui is already shuffling through plans, making sure to stock up on bento meals for Sasuke and leaving him tips for the training he still begs Shisui for.
He nods. "It would be my honor, Hokage-sama."
The words are unconvincing even to him, but the Hokage dismisses him with a wave of the hand, standing up to stare out into the view of his village, a haunted look settling into the creases of his worn face. Shisui silently shuffles out under the watch of hidden blank, masked eyes.
His mind wanders as he jumps from rooftop to rooftop, already in the process of planning meal times and Sasuke's training.
Speaking of the little devil…
"Knock, knock!"
The door swings open to reveal a tired face plastered with freckles and frazzled hair.
" Please just knock like a normal person instead of saying the word 'knock', Shisui-senpai," Toshiro mumbles out, but he obediently steps out onto the porch. Toshiro lifts an eyebrow as he meets his gaze. "Again, then?"
Shisui gives him a winning grin. "Yep!"
Toshiro sighs, but he doesn't head back in because Shisui knows he's always been a pushover. "How long?"
"I don't know. You can start tonight," Shisui answers, very aware of the curious gaze of civilians on his back. He rummages through his pockets, pulling out an envelope and quickly smacking it against Toshiro's chest. Toshiro has barely managed to grab it before Shisui is off to the rooftops again, his shuinshin creating a small breeze that ruffles the hair of nearby victims.
"I'm a chunin, I don't need this money!" Toshiro yells out into the air, making Shisui grin. It was a phrase said many times throughout the year, and it never got old.
The lighthearted mood immediately changes as Shisui steps into his home. Silence welcomes him as he passes through the window of their kitchen, his steps sure against the wooden grain. With surety in his actions, Shisui takes out all of his materials for the mission, laying them out against his open storage scroll.
"You're leaving again."
Shisui doesn't acknowledge Sasuke as he continues to pull out ration bars and clothes to stuff inside of his mission scroll. "Hokage-sama has personally asked for it. I've asked for Toshiro-kun to look after you while I'm gone again." Even without looking back, Shisui can sense the deep scowl on the eight year old's face, prompting a quirk of his lips.
"Don't make me get Kakashi to babysit you," He jokingly threatens, turning to face his ward. Sasuke scowls harder, crossing his arms, but he makes no move to complain. In truth, Sasuke had not even met Kakashi yet, but Shisui had blabbered about him enough to leave an impression on the small Uchiha. Besides, Kakashi and small children usually don't mix well with the whole 'I'm one more death away from becoming an ANBU liability' type of deal.
Sasuke stomps away as Shisui chuckles, already thinking of ways to make up for his lack of time. The atmosphere shifts as his mind drifts back to the mission and his legs take him back into his room. Tomodachi caws in greeting as he enters, but the noise is muted. Depressed.
Shisui sighs. "Tomo-kun, watch him while I'm away," He mutters, running a hand through Tomodachi's glistening head feathers. "Ahō will be back soon," He whispers. Tomo gives a small click of the beak, and then Shisui is gone.
He is halfway through the Land of Grass mostly fighting against mosquitoes and leeches when a murder of crows starts circling above his head.
His heart pounds as he takes in the messages within the choreographed flutter of wings and circles. Follow , they say.
Follow , Shisui's heart repeats. There's only one person who knows the crows' language, only one person he hasn't seen for a year and fretted over during sleepless nights filled with confusing emotions.
Itachi.
He savours the name lodging in the back of his throat as he delicately glides underneath the limited scope of the tall grass, making sure to crouch low and not think about the leeches most likely stuck to his ankles as the humidity presses on him like a blanket.
His steps are confident under the squelching mud, black eyes peeking up periodically to make sure of the crows' direction, minor frustration pushing at the boundaries of his mind from their slow pace. He can't tell if it's Ahō above him, and he won't risk activating his chakra to confirm it, especially not this far in Orochimaru's proclaimed territory.
It is hours before anything new passes through the dense field of grass, and Shisui's composure shakens as his ears pick up on the sound of rustling grass in the distance, unknown chakra signature dashing right next to him as he compresses his aura into the smallest size he can manage.
A few seconds pass before Shisui dares to exhale, controlled breath going out in a soft form. A Shinobi, he thinks, grimacing. It's good and bad news.
He takes the risk and sends out an intense genjutsu, blanketing the area where he sits within the dense foliage. Shisui slowly stands up, cramped legs ignored as he rises to peek above the plants.
There's a hIll just a few meters from him, the mound covered by short trees and shorter grass. His eyes catch the rim of a natural opening that shows nothing but the inside of dirt. Shisui frowns, turning away to face the direction of where the Shinobi ran to and then back to the hill. A lone crow flaps its wings from above to settle on top of the structure. It's not Ahō.
Shisui steels his nerves and approaches. Of course, Itachi wouldn't meet him in a nice place like a café or something. No, he had to stumble through the backass fields of enemy territory for him, Shisui grumbles to himself. The internal complaints let him feel a little better as he presses up against the mound of dirt, feeling more at home with the trees circling him that provide a quick getaway. Shisui inches closer and activates his sharingan, letting the colours around him sharpen, including the patch of chakra covering the 'natural' opening.
His fingers just barely touch the dirt before they pull him in, the earth sucking him up and spitting him out in a move almost too quick for Shisui to manage. He lands on his feet, narrowingly managing to control his stumble in the pervading darkness before hands grab the back of his shirt and flip him over on his back, arms forcing his arms apart and bounding them in a dense fabric.
"You motherfu—" Is the last thing he's able to say before another calloused hand clamps down on his mouth, the words muffled as he's dragged over a bump and shoved into a corner before a soft slam is heard. A door?
Shisui wiggles, trying to get to the knife hidden within the waistband of his pants until a familiar sound of a match is lit. The light flickers, dancing its flames around the small, bare room he's been put in, but Shisui's eyes focus on the pale hand it's in the clutches of.
Those red eyes stare back at him, sharingan slowly circling as they take in his dirty face and trembling body.
There were so many things Shisui wanted to say, to blame, to curse Itachi for. He had mapped out and planned for every single conversation and eventual spar that could come from their confrontation, pouring endless nights towards debates and strategies and even the possibility Shisui would throw all caution to the wind and sob into Itachi's arms like Anko's favourite dramas she swore him to secrecy over.
"Why do you look so old?" Is the first thing he blurts out. Shisui resists the urge to rub his temples, but it's not like he could do so with the way they've been bound together.
Itachi blinks, dispelling the tense atmosphere. "Because I'm older," He simply answers. His voice is lower, Shisui realizes, lower than any time Shisui can think of. The unfamiliarity is off-putting. "I apologize for the perception jutsu I placed when you came in. It was the fastest way to stop you from alerting the camp if you saw me."
Shisui grimaces, quickly weeding out Itachi's subtle chakra chain along his visual and primary auditory cortex with a bright flare of his own chakra. Many nights of genjutsu training meant easier displacements, but they were much harder to spot due to the chakra familiarity. Shisui had no doubt that if it came to a battle of their genjutsu prowess, Itachi would come out on top.
"So," He says, rubbing his free arms from the phantom pain of the genjutsu bonds, shifting gears and pausing to take in the familiar, if receding softness to Itachi's face. His eyes rake over the plain blue clothes covering Itachi's frame as he stands, "You come here often?"
Itachi's lips twitch, and any anger Shisui pushed himself to feel over the years disappears with alarming quickness.
By Susanoo, you'll be the death of me , he desperately thinks.
"Often enough," Itachi says, voice soft in the way that Shisui knows to be his form of teasing. "I wanted to—"
"Orochimaru-sama, is everything alrig— "
Itachi and Shisui's eyes flicker to- the Konoha secretary?
Shisui impulsively draws a kunai towards the traitor, ready to stab the threat before Itachi clamps a firm hand on his wrist, suddenly much closer than before.
"Everything is fine, Kabuto-san. Please leave us," Itachi affirms, voice calm. Shisui flicks his sharingan towards Itachi, trepidation clawing through his brain as he takes in the lack of a genjutsu.
Kabuto warily relaxes from the strange stance from earlier, lowering his extended, unarmored hands. He nods once before slowly backing out, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder as he goes.
Shisui remains locked in Itachi's grasp until they both relax as Shisui's killing intent trickles down into a faint impression.
Shisui pockets his kunai and slowly turns around. "So," he starts, "You got a new nickname?"
Itachi grimaces. "Orochimaru was too much of a nuisance. I killed him and took his place as the eventual Otokage," He picks at the hem of his shirt in a nervous tick that Shisui hasn't seen before. "Kabuto-san was his right-hand man, and a proficient medic. We have developed an alliance for our goals, which include making Orochimaru's death a secret," He states.
Shisui raises his eyebrows. "You're… starting a hidden village?"
Itachi's lips twitch down. "I'm acting in Orochimaru's place. He developed a vast expanse of networks and trade before I took care of him, and I hesitate to discard such a boon before fully exploiting it. Everyone else assumes Orochimaru is alive, and it should remain that way," He sends a look that would've intimidated anyone but Shisui, who only thinks of it in terms of the pouts of a seven year old who's dango fell on the ground.
Shisui sends him a look back. "And Kabuto is serving as your spy in Konoha." It's not framed as a question.
Itachi nods. "I've pulled him out for more important matters, but yes."
Shisui almost comments on why Itachi would do such a thing to his own village, but several lifetimes of memories flash before his eyes, reigning his question in. Shisui valiantly resists the urge to put his face in his hands before thinking Fuck it and doing just that.
How is this their life?
"And what the hell are you planning to do with a country?" He asks, voice muffled in-between his fingers.
Itachi pauses, but mercifully doesn't comment on Shisui's choice of actions. "The assassination was initially to protect Sasuke in the future, but Orochimaru has developed some interesting research aspects in time fuinjutsu."
Shisui blinks, lifting his head. "You're still on about that?"
Itachi — there's no better word for it — glares at Shisui with a vehement look. "'Are you still on about that?' Do you even hear yourself?"
Shisui spreads his hands open in a gesture of mercy. "All I mean," he calmly explains, "Is that I don't think you should fully accept the events of this life just yet."
Itachi suddenly shifts his eyes away and folds into himself, shame clearly displayed for Shisui to see. "You mean the massacre," he emotionlessly states.
The anger that Shisui had thought disappeared returns with a slow ignition of an ember. "Yeah," he states, as equally blunt but much more pointed, "The massacre. Did you already forget about it? Because me and Sasuke sure didn't. I'll admit, I didn't see that one coming, especially the corpse plundering, but I think a heads up would have been nice."
Itachi faces him again, eyes wide. "Corpse plundering?" He hollowly echoes back.
Shisui and Itachi take a moment to stare at each other, sharingans off and expressions open, the air thick with tension. A previously unseen crow shuffles in the corner.
"Did you know that our clan's eyes were missing? That my mother's eyes were taken before her body grew cold?" Is the first thing he asks Itachi, breaking the silence. He may already have his answer, but it was important that Itachi confirm it.
"I—" The neutral expression on Itachi's face sloughs off in pieces, replaced with horror. Shisui's expression remains hardened. "I didn't know."
"Did you know about the massacre?" Shisui presses, taking a step forward.
Itachi hesitates.
"I can't tell you—"
"Then let me see," Shisui demands. The slightest twitch of Itachi's index betrays his inner conflict, but Shisui won't let up. Not with this. He is dirty, and tired, and he waited years for Itachi. Years of anger, years of frustration, years of unanswered secrets.
Itachi looks away from him, closing his eyes. His form… crumbles in a way Shisui so rarely sees, but can immediately recognize as grief. Sasuke folds into himself in a similar manner, furrowed brows matching his brother's.
Shisui lets him have his moment. Even the edges of impatience won't let him act foolishly.
Finally, Itachi's body relaxes, resigned to his fate. The dark lashes lift slowly, as if fighting against what Itachi had decided. The red of the sharingan peaks out as Itachi turns toward him.
And for the first time ever, Shisui sees his gift to Itachi — the spinning blade of the mangekyou sharingan.
Itachi sees Shisui fall with a smile down the cliff of the Naka river, blood trailing down his sunken eyes like an ironic parody of tears.
"Do it yourself and spare Sasuke, or have your clan kill him through the coup. This is your choice." An ANBU tonelessly says to him. Itachi nods.
Madara, or the man who calls himself Madara, joins him on the rooftop.
"You ready?" He asks, baritone rumbling with a hint of amusement. Itachi doesn't deign to answer, merely taking out his katana and jumping down.
The first cut to Itachi's great aunt's throat sprays across the shoji. The second kill is not so bloody, but the retired jonin in the next house, his older cousin, puts up enough of a fight that Itachi gets nicked in the leg.
One by one, the bodies fall.
The sharp feel of the illusion pulls Shisui in, flashes of conversations and deaths and blood pouring out of the cracks in his mind and it's fucking fake.
With a mental snarl, Shisui breaks the weak genjutsu. Getting pushed out of it was just as bad as when his insufferable ANBU captain decided to 'help' Shisui wake up for a mission with a bucket of cold water, and he can't help but shiver as the powerful illusion slides off of him with sticky hands.
"I said," Shisui starts to say, hands shaking. He makes himself look back into Itachi's eyes, face closed off and unreadable, "Let me see ."
The hurriedly-made façade cracks, the slightest tension in Itachi's right eye showing his emotions clear as day to Shisui's activated sharingan.
"I want this," Shisui makes himself say, even as he's not sure he believes it himself, "I deserve to see it in full and not as an edited story. No more lies, Itachi."
The silence stretches on for even longer as Shisui sees the wheels of Itachi's stupid, genius brain turn and look for an out.
"As you wish," Itachi mutters. The blood on his cheek drips down into the earth as Shisui looks back into the spinning pinwheel of the mangekyou.
He's on his hands and knees near a cliff, body shaking and racking with sobs and eyes burning, burning, but he can't relax, he needs to destroy Shisui's body, oh gods he needs to go back down, oh gods—
Danzo looks at him with disregard, his ANBU puppet repeating the damned commands as Itachi wants nothing more than to rip the eyes right out of Danzo's blasphemous head. Sasuke, he pleads to himself, and bows his head.
The clicks of his ANBU armour litter like gunshots in his bedroom, arms instinctively going for the weasel mask before remembering that he won't need it. His face has less cracks and scratches than it anyway, he thinks mirthlessly. He reaches for his katana, and then—
He is cutting them down one by one. Children go last, shinobi go first. That is what ANBU taught him.
He repeats it like a mantra. Children go last —
"You traitorous bastard!" Screams Homare, tears running down her face. The masked man ambushes her, stabbing her through the spine, severing her nerves. Itachi moves on to his next target.
Shinobi go first.
"Itachi-nii?" Sniffles a boy in the corner. He's covered by his parent's blood, and then his own.
Deep in his heart, Itachi knows that his parents will be the hardest to face. He saves them for last, but they don't fight him. Instead, they do the worst thing they could.
"I'm proud of you," His father says just before Itachi slides his blade through his mother's ribs and his father's sternum. His limbs are shaking, sobbing, he hasn't cried like this since—
He hears small footsteps on the outside of the room and panics, "Don't come in, Sasuke!" He yells, turning his face away and praying to whoever will listen that his brother won't hear the trembling in his voice.
The door opens.
He breathes out.
He's standing over the flickering fire in their makeshift camp, chakra thinning out to look for anyone foolish enough to ambush two S-class missing-nin. He coughs, emotions bleeding into frustration and resentment as the thick coat around him becomes constraining, trapping the heat from his fever in the fabric.
"Let me take watch, Itachi-san," Says a familiar voice. He looks over at his partner, tiredly resigning himself to accepting Kisame's help. The other man gives him a comforting grin, and he can't help but quirk his lips up in return.
They will never truly trust each other, but maybe what they already have is enough.
The pain in his lungs is so intense Itachi wonders if he took all of his organs out, they would already be rotten and shriveled.
He gives a small grin at the thought, the cocktail of drugs in his system tearing at his control until he gives a small laugh, voice echoing across the old, abandoned Uchiha shrine within the mountains of Kumo. They don't dull the pain, not even close, but they make it so he doesn't care about it. Itachi tries to compose himself, shifting his weight on the throne seat, elevating his bad arm in the fabric of his cloak.
Itachi sits.
And he waits.
It's so stupid, so sentimental, but Itachi forgives himself for it as he pushes past the pain of his heart attack and walks, unseeing, towards what he knows is his brother. He doesn't even have enough chakra to sense him, but this was the boy he held in his arms before Sasuke could walk. He knows the way.
One step, then another. He pushes himself forward and knows he is dying with each step. The thought makes him smile with relief.
He reaches for something and he's not even sure what he's looking for, letting his rotting muscle memory guide his movements as everything in him screams for something he cannot name. Vaguely, his tongue says something, and then the voices around him quiet in contentment for his achieved goal.
And then he falls.
Itachi wakes up screaming.
Shisui sucks in a cold, harsh breath.
No one speaks, the flames from the candles Itachi had lit the only movement within the dim room. It's so silent Shisui can hear the drip, drip of Itachi's blood sliding down his face to the floor.
"Do you see who I am, now?" Itachi asks, voice bitter and knowing. "Don't you see who you misplaced your trust into—"
Shisui hugs him.
Itachi stands there, hands by his sides, unmoving. Shisui grips him hard, unyielding in his clutch.
"You damned idiot," He chokes out. Shisui can feel his nose begin to leak, blood and tears falling out of his eyes in a way that will surely stain Itachi's shirt. He doesn't care about that though, holding Itachi's body close to him in a way he wasn't able to for years. For decades. "I'm sorry."
Itachi keeps his hands by his sides, chin propped on Shisui's shoulder. "Why are you sorry?" He asks, voice quietly befuddled.
Shisui gives a humourless chuckle, forcing Itachi's body to move with him. "Because I gave you too much," He whispers back, vainly trying to stop the tears from shedding. "I expected you to handle it. I was a fool." Shisui pulls back now, slowly, carefully, but he doesn't let his hands leave Itachi's. His calloused fingers, full of so much pain and gentleness, cradle the person he loves most in the world.
It's a simple fact of Shisui's life, one he has never argued against — he loves Itachi. That love was not sudden, nor spoken, nor pushed away. It was simply there, ever ebbing and flowing into Shisui's life with all the inevitability of the tides, guided by the moon herself before the very first water molecules clicked together like glue.
"We're in this together," He says instead, trying to go for a small smile. It probably looks more like a horror painting with his flush face and teary eyes, but Itachi looks at him all the same. Dark eyes, so similar to Sasuke's, stare at him with a type of quiet amazement that reminds Shisui of the times he used to do a flashy jutsu just for that look.
The silence goes on long enough that it should have been awkward, but Shisui is content to stare back into Itachi's eyes, letting the moment wash over them like a delicate stream.
"Why?" Itachi breathes out. It's a word packed with many layers of questions.
Shisui rolls his eyes, trying to dispel the intimacy of the moment. It would have worked better if they still weren't linking hands. "Because I'm not half as brave as you are," He states, voice serious. "Because I have a duty to you, as my clan heir and friend, to stay by your side," He straightens up now, hands still clutching the dry, firm hands, letting them give him strength. "Because I'm yours, Itachi. For better and worse. No more secrets," He finishes, squeezing their hands.
Itachi's stare drops to the floor as he lets out a shaky breath. His shoulders tremble for a brief moment as Shisui looks on, grounding Itachi with the press of his fingers.
"No more secrets," Itachi whispers. To himself or to Shisui, he isn't sure, but Shisui manages a half-decent grin as Itachi meets his eyes, expression soft and eyes filled with the promise of his vow. Itachi suddenly pulls away and bows, graceful limbs pulling him low. "I come into your care."
Shisui flushes. "None of that now, we're peers," He hastily adds. Shisui pauses, thinking. A grin spread across his face. "Actually, I'm technically the Uchiha clan head," His smile dims as he processes the statement, quickly turning it into a grimace, "Fuck, I'm the Uchiha clan head."
Itachi suddenly bursts into laughter, holding his arms to his sides as his shoulders shake. He doesn't stop even as Shisui looks on in befuddlement, Itachi's eyes closed shut as he leans against a wall for support, only managing to make his body slowly slide down to the ground.
"You—" Itachi struggles to say, his blood-stained face cleaned by his watery tears, "Tou-san used to say that the end of the clan would be when you took his place!" Itachi manages to huff out before bursting back into laughter. It's not funny, the pain of his family too recent for the fresh wounds, but Shisui's lips still tug all the same.
"The end of the clan, huh?" Shisui repeats. A chuckle manages to crawl out of his throat, then another, then another, until his lungs are burning with laughter, his body joining Itachi's giggling form on the ground as they clutch each other for comfort over a dead man's words.
The joke isn't funny.
Shisui critically eyes Kabuto from where the other man is pressing his glowing hands against Itachi's back. Shisui doesn't think the younger man is stupid enough to do anything while Shisui looks on with his best menacing glare, but he thinks it's prudent enough to give reminders of what would happen if the thought ever crossed his mind.
"Shisui, stop glaring at Kabuto-san. You're distracting him from his work," Itachi tiredly commands, ruining the carefully cultivated atmosphere. Shisui barely resists the urge to stick out his tongue.
"Shisui-sama, I can guide you through what is occurring if it eases your mind," Kabuto says, unruffled. There's nothing inherently backhanded about the statement, but Shisui can feel the patronization slithering underneath, definitely spurred on by Itachi's backing.
"No thanks," He curtly responds, even as a kernel of curiosity piques up.
Kabuto hums. "Uchiha-sama," He says, addressing Itachi, "Please be more careful with over-exerting yourself in the future. I'm not sure what you did, but you've ruined my hard work," He gently chastises. "Maybe Karin-chan—"
"No," Itachi says. The room falls silent as Kabuto continues his work, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts.
Fifteen excruciating minutes pass as Shisui busies himself with glaring at Kabuto and flickering his eyes over the suspicious bottles and liquids arranged haphazardly over metal shelves. One of them says Senju and Shisui gulps, quickly pulling his eyes back to Itachi.
"Done," Kabuto states, pulling his hands away. He goes over to the sink to wash his hands, unconcerned over two pairs of black eyes watching his movements. He bows once to Itachi, then to Shisui, and leaves through the door, off to do whatever it was former Orochimaru henchmen do. Probably feed children to the spare snake den.
Shisui winces at the bad joke. It was probably too true for comfort.
"Did you notice?" Itachi asks, hands still gripping the table he sits upon.
Shisui blinks. "Notice what?"
Itachi juts his chin out to the closed door. "Kabuto's looks."
Shisui bristles, crossing his arms as he leans against the cold wall. "At best, he's average."
Itachi levels him with an incredulous stare. "No," He begins, voice slow. "I mean his clan features."
Clan features? Shisui mouths to himself. Frowning, he thinks back to Kabuto, noting the spiky silver hair, black eyes, sharp features—
Shisui looks at him, surprise clear across his face. "You don't think...?" He begins, trailing off.
Itachi cracks his neck and jumps off the metal gurney, looking significantly more rejuvenated. "All I'm saying is that stranger things have occurred," He says. Shisui snorts. Understatement of the century.
Shisui curiously looks back at where Kabuto had left, eyes leaving Itachi. "Well, the timing fits. Do you think you'll tell him?" He neutrally asks.
"No," Itachi answers. "I can't afford for him to hesitate in case Konoha sends Kakashi-taichou to this place."
Shisui relaxes from his instinctively tense posture, shoulders drooping. He's selfishly glad to know Itachi wasn't going to make any foolish decisions, even as his heart bleeds a little at the lack of mercy towards a presumed orphan. There's no proof they're related anyway , an excuse whispers into his mind. Shisui grabs it for his own pitiful peace of mind.
"So," Shisui begins, unsubtly changing the subject, "Is the kid healing your eyes, too?"
Itachi doesn't react, which is just as telling as if he did. Shisui sighs, uncrossing his arms as he walks towards his partner.
"Your pupils aren't focusing on my eyes, Itachi," He chastises, trying to squint into the other's iris. They would've looked convincingly workable if Shisui didn't know every single lash and scar on Itachi's face in perfect detail. "Seriously, I've had my mangekyou for years and I don't have whatever degradation you already have. What, have you been lighting campfires with amaterasu for fun?"
Itachi's lidded eyes look back at him with disguised annoyance, making Shisui grin at managing to rile him up. Shisui loathed seeing Itachi on that gurney, pale and sweaty and looking so breakable, even as Shisui knew he could snap anyone's spine in twelve different ways before letting out another craggy breath. "My illness always appears once puberty starts, suggesting it is genetic and chronic. The medical consensus is I'll die from it before I hit thirty if I retire right now as a shinobi. My body will break down before then if I push my body as a nin, even with Kabuto-san managing the symptoms. Blindness seems paltry compared to the consequences of not using the mangekyou, either way."
All teasing disappears from Shisui's body as the words settle in. "That wasn't—" He sucks in a breath, "That vision you showed me of your sickness, that wasn't a one-time thing?"
Itachi's lips humorlessly twirl upwards, the rest of his expression betraying everything but amusement. "I'm never going to grow old, Shisui," He cruelly says, nailing the coffin shut.
Shisui can barely breathe, his limbs crumbling underneath him as he gently sits down on the cold stone, arms outstretched for balance. Itachi looks on, alarmed, and grabs his elbow as he slowly kneels with him.
They spend a few moments like that, Shiusi desperately trying to control his breathing as Itachi looks at him, expression composed, if faintly concerned. Even as he hyperventilates, Shisui is so fucking embarrassed at himself for continuing to ask Itachi for the truth and then immediately showing he's not ready for it. Fuck his life. Lifes. Whatever .
Shisui lets out a self-deprecating chuckle as his breathing evens out and his head stops feeling like it's going to fall off on its own. "Even with everything, I suppose I can't help but hope for a long life, huh?" He rhetorically asks, speaking to no one.
The creak of metal cuts through the air as Itachi walks over and firmly grabs his hand, the action startling Shisui out of his daze.
"I'll do whatever I can to help you achieve that hope," Itachi says, fading eyes staring into Shisui's with an intensity that makes him breathless. The confession is startling in its naked honesty.
"Then that'll be my goal for you too, Itachi," Shisui promises. Itachi gives him a smile, and Shisui pretends not to see pity within the gaze.
"Follow me," Itachi simply says, standing up and pulling Shisui with him. He pauses by the door, spreading his chakra out and blanketing them in a genjutsu.
Shisui just follows, still in a daze, as Itachi weaves and bustles along the confusing hallways, clearly searching for something.
His steps lighten as they reach another door built like all the others, but the doorknob glows when Itachi presses his hand to as he drags Shisui inside.
"Where are we?" Shisui whispers into the darkness. Itachi lets go of his hand, leaving Shisui floundering, unsure of what is happening.
A single light comes on as Itachi bends down to light a candle. The flames illuminate several disorganized shelves piled high with paperwork and a rumpled, queen-sized bed. Shisui continues to stand there, stupefied, while Itachi walks up to him with confident steps, loosely bound hair swaying with his movements. Shisui is transfixed on the sight as Itachi comes closer and takes his hand again, leaving phantom electricity trickling down Shisui's skin at the warm touch.
He guides Shisui in the dim light, steps unhurried and light as they walk towards the bed. Itachi sits down on it and pats the spot next to him, not making eye contact as he leans over to undo his sandals. Shisui mechanically follows, slight surprise coloring the dulled sensations as he sits on the mattress, only vaguely aware of his surroundings as he stares at the stone decorating the wall across from him.
There's a pause to his right, and Shisui doesn't need to look to know that Itachi is staring at him. There's a shifting of fabric, a careful touch to his arm, and then Shisui is laying down on the thin padding, eyes half-lidded and heart continuing to beat an uneven rhythm in his chest.
"Sleep," Whispers the voice next to him, and someone gently turns his head just in time to see a faint glint of red and spinning black.
"To use genjutsu on another Uchiha, without consent, is the highest of our taboos," Fugaku had once told him, his hair already greying in the soft light of early morning.
Thank you, Shisui tries to whisper to Itachi, but the loving edge of blackness overtakes his mind, as gentle as the hand on his cheek.
He awakens in increments, fluttering eyelashes only catching glimpses of light and colors before being pulled back down into the abyss.
It's torturous and unfettering. Every time Shisui tries to claw himself back, he is pulled back down. Bitterness coats his tongue as he fights to keep his eyes open each time, slowly growing more and more aware of what surrounds him as time passes in seconds, hours, or days.
Eventually, he focuses on the press of cotton on his face. The sensation is almost novel enough to distract from the faint tickle around his nose. His eyes protest as he gets them to open, little by little, until Shisui is content enough to leave them half-lidded, too groggy to fully open.
Itachi is staring back at him, eyes fully opened and black, the light catching them to reveal flicks of deep grey and blue. His hair is unbound from the usual red leather and splayed out across the bed, a few stray hairs managing to reach Shisui's face.
"I love your hair, it's so beautiful," Shisui mumbles into the pillow, and is immediately horrified at what he says, eyes widening in time to catch Itachi's genuine smile. Shisui is utterly and completely embarrassed, shoving his head back into the pillow in a vain attempt to cover his flushed cheeks. He is now completely awake, and it's horrible.
"I know," Itachi quickly answers, voice gentle and teasing. "I grew it out for you."
Shisui's eyes widen as he lifts his face out of his cocoon, disbelief racking his features. "No you didn't," He states.
"I did," Itachi affirms, humor mirroring his features, the answer as easy as stating the sky is blue. Shisui isn't sure how to respond to that declaration, so he says nothing, merely taking a guilt-ridden glance towards the river of black next to him, the texture thick and faintly glimmering in the candlelight.
Experimentally, he clenches and unclenches his hands, making sure everything is in working order as he shifts closer, giving into the old-established want of twirling his hands into Itachi's hair, carefully making sure to leave no knots with his meandering grip. It's a good way to occupy his mind as the seconds tick by, Itachi making no move to dislodge himself from the bed that they share.
It's almost comforting, as long as Shisui doesn't think about their last conversation.
"You don't have to go," Itachi suddenly whispers, eyes lazily blinking as warm breath tickles Shisui's startled face. "Stay for a few more days to gather intel." He reaches out a hand then, arm sneaking down to grip Shisui's waist, as if physically reminding Shisui of something Shisui can't quite translate.
Shisui is not really sure what they're doing, laying like this together, feeling aspects of each other's bodies in a way unspokeningly disapproved of by everyone, but hurriedly discarded by Itachi within the tender comfort of the cotton sheets. It feels too right, like something that can be exploited, like something that is carved within the very tendons of Shisui's body and seen by anyone who looks too closely. Shisui feels exposed, and he shifts, reminding himself of the clothing separating them. He knows he's always been the one to instigate the more physical aspects of their relationship — a shoulder touch here, a hug there. But this feels much more than simple comfort.
"C'mon, don't suddenly make me the reasonable one here," Shisui tries to joke, but it falls flat in the intimacy of the moment. Distantly, he's aware he's staring at Itachi's lips. They're a little bit bigger now, or maybe Shisui's just getting closer.
He hurriedly pulls away, leaning over the edge of the bed. "Sasuke is waiting for me. He's not like us, ya'know. Can't leave him alone just with a bowl of tomatoes and water." He doesn't look at Itachi's face as he says it, focusing on putting on the sandals that had mysteriously been taken off during his sleep — a testament to how skilled Itachi was or how much Shisui still trusted him.
Itachi doesn't say anything as he does so, and Shisui feels too guilty about denying Itachi's uncharacteristically selfish request to turn around to see the expression on Itachi's face.
"I was just joking," Itachi whispers behind him. Shisui pauses at the tone, shifting to bring his gaze behind him.
Itachi is lying on the bed, hands sprawled above him. He's staring at the ceiling, an unscrutionable emotion on his face as the sheets half-cover his body.
Shisui looks away. "I know you were," He lies, turning away from the sight lest he abandons everyone and everything to fall back into the warm cloth. They both know Itachi wasn't joking.
"I'll deal with the man who calls himself Madara," Itachi suddenly states, voice hard and determined, "I don't want you messing with him. He's too dangerous."
The seriousness in Itachi's voice makes Shisui pause, suddenly unsure of the turn the conversation was making. He fully shifts on the mattress, turning his body to settle on staring at Itachi's laidback form, his thin eyebrows furrowed in thought.
"Alright," Shisui readily agrees. "But I want you to promise me something."
Itachi turns his head, eyes wide and alert. "Alright," He echoes. Shisui smiles, affection wiggling its way into his heart.
"Promise me I'll see you again soon," Shisui says, quick to add in the last word. "Promise me you won't make any risky decisions without me."
Itachi stares at him, "I'll do my best," He says. Shisui can't tell if he's telling the truth, but he'll take what he can get.
"That's all I can ask," Shisui honestly answers.
Itachi watches him as he straps up his holster and armour, eyes not leaving his back until Shisui walks out the door, steps silent against stone.
Happy B-day Itachi!