/ / /

Numbness. A thick layer of haze settled on his mind, heavy, like a pile of snow. Itachi rouses slowly, dragging himself out of the drudges of unconsciousness with the mindless determination of a man who has spotted the first source of water he has encountered in days. Even in these early stages of awakening, he knows.

Something is wrong. This is wrong.

Seconds later, and Itachi realizes with dulled horror what, exactly, it is that is wrong. He is alive. Presumably alive, to be fair, but the afterlife should reasonably have felt better than this slow onset of extreme volumes of pain that Itachi has come to associate with living. His lungs are already beginning to burn; his entire body is firing up.

Alive. In all other circumstances, the notion would have come with relief. But right now, after enduring that final battle with Sasuke, Itachi wants nothing to do with being alive. He opens his mouth to release a bitter laugh at the divine beings that have wrenched him from his well-crafted plans over and over again, that even now will not bestow upon him the blissful feeling of nothingness.

Instead of a laugh, Itachi lets out a cough. And then another. Soon, his mouth is overflowing with blood; it runs down his cheek and onto the ground where he lays. Gathering himself, Itachi tears his mind away from self-pity, and furrows his brows in thought.

Compared with dwelling on the whys and hows of his present state, he has a more immediate problem at hand. If he is alive, where is Sasuke? Itachi can feel blades of grass cushioning his head; their final battle had been atop a building, all clay and wood. Someone had captured him, then, and brought him here. This also meant Sasuke…

Itachi struggles to move his body, but to no avail. Maybe if he can just open his eyes, he can get a proper assessment of his surroundings, and determine his next steps from there. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Itachi forces his eyelids to open against the crust that had been gluing them together.

He blinks. And blinks. Darkness.

The ache of his eye muscles comes rushing at him soon after, and, laying on the ground in some unknown location with no chakra, Itachi understands. His eyes are gone. And he is alive.

Disgustingly, despairingly, alive.


xXx

Tsunade has been having a terrible day. It had started with a hangover (which in and of itself is pretty normal), followed by a string of lost bets against Konohamaru and his ilk, of all people, and then finally, after storming into her office, she was greeted by an impossibly high stack of papers presented to her by an irate Shizune.

No, Tsunade is not pleased. She makes this known by thumping her mug onto her table, rocking enough coffee out to splash right onto a document she had just finished signing.

"Tsunade-sama," sighs Shizune, shaking her head. "I think it's time for you to stop huffing and just start going through the paperwork."

"Who allowed for such complicated and convoluted approval processes in the first place? None of this red tape is necessary in the least to run a village." Then, knowing the answer, Tsunade crosses her arms. "I bet Sensei is having a blast right now watching me deal with his legacy."

"What's this about our Sensei?" Jiraiya appears in the window, his large form perched on the window sill and filling the entirety of the opening. "Did I hear you badmouthing our revered Third Hokage, Fifth?"

"Shut it, Jiraiya. I'm not in the mood today, and haven't you ever heard of doors or knocking? You can't just come bursting into the Hokage's office."

"Come now, who was just moaning about the red tape?"

"I am carrying out official work, Jiraiya."

Her former teammate simply saunters over, pulling out a large bottle from one of his many hidden pockets. "How about we make that better? Three shots says you can't finish at a reasonable hour to go for lunch at Ichiraku."


xXx

Tsunade was making good progress on her pile despite Jiraiya's distractions when her door flies open and an unannounced visitor comes crashing in, Shizune on his heels.

Her assistant heaves a sigh. "Sorry, Tsunade-sama. I couldn't stop him from charging in."

Genma is bent over panting, missing his customary senbon in mouth, and visibly disturbed, any of which is enough to raise all of Tsunade's red flags. The jonin, former member of the Fourth Hokage's Guard Platoon, is easily one of the most collected shinobi she has ever known. Indeed, it has been one of his greatest strengths, and probably the reason why he has managed to maintain his long career at such a high level.

"What's wrong?" she demands, hands slamming onto her desk and sending cracks through the wood.

"We found something on the borders, Hokage-sama. A bloody body…"

Tsunade's eyes narrow, but she allows Genma to continue.

"It's Uchiha Itachi..."

"Is he alive? What is the current situation?"

"Barely. He is unconscious, and given the state he is in, I would surmise that he was recently engaged in battle. I very much doubt he would be a threat even if he does wake up, but Kotetsu and Izumo are keeping watch over him." Genma pauses to pull a senbon out of a pouch and pop it into his mouth, regaining his composure. Save for the slight tremor in his fingers, that is.

At this, Tsunade frowns. In her mind, a torrent of questions are battering down at Genma's report. But she is the Hokage, and so she pushes them away in favor of rationality. "Uchiha Itachi is an S-rated missing nin, Genma. He is always a threat. You know that."

Genma draws in a long breath; for a moment, the entire room is eerily quiet, save for the clinking of metal against teeth. "About that… his eyes have been removed, Hokage-sama. We checked."

Uchiha Itachi, showing up at the borders of Konaha unconscious and without his eyes. Which means… Tsunade pinches the bridge of her nose. "Jiraiya, Shizune," she says, without lifting her head. "Go and collect him. Attend to any immediate life-threatening injuries if you must, and then bring him to our top-security holding cell. I will go clear the way. We will keep the news of Uchiha Itachi's detainment completely confidential until further notice, am I clear?"

"Yes, understood" the room choruses.

With a nod, Jiraiya and Shizune vanish, leaving only two. Tsunade turns to Genma, whose expression has now smoothened back into its normal mask of light indifference.

"Genma, I trust you can relay the severity of the situation and need for confidentiality to Kotetsu and Izumo?"

"Of course."

"Then go do that. Once you are done, I have another urgent mission for you."

Genma gives a small nod; to any other eye, the gesture may have seemed disrespectful, but Tsunade knows better after multiple interactions with the jonin over the course of her assignment as Hokage. He may seem apathetic, but it is a honed façade that conveniently has unsung benefits for the shinobi profession.

"Very well, Hokage-sama. Happy to go retrieve Hatake."

Tsunade gives a wry smile at the disappearing jonin's back. Intelligent too, that one. Perhaps she can use someone like that on her own Guard Platoon.

Her smile disappears as she ponders the next step. She finds her calligraphy brush, and begins writing a coded note for the intel department.


xXx

Searing pain. Streaks of fire coursing through his veins, spreading into every single nerve and incinerating everything in its path. What had started as bearable pulses, waves of agony, now blend in together into a rising tidal force unleashed against his body.

In yet another brief respite, Itachi runs his tongue over cracked lips. He tastes the familiar tang of metal; whether it is from Ibiki's attempts at persuading him to talk or from his periodic episodes of coughing is uncertain. Itachi supposes it makes no difference either way.

He remains silent, as he has done for the entirety of his time in Konoha. Blank, unreadable, unperturbed by the attacks against his psyche. He and Ibiki once stood on the same side, attended the same trainings as ANBU. If there is one thing that is drilled into ANBU members, it is the unbreakable sense of emptiness that comes with signing away all semblances of morality.

ANBU training aside, there is one other thing that has kept Itachi from faltering, both throughout the course of his life and now, faced with Ibiki's torture. The source of his resolution that has somehow kept him chained to life.

Sasuke.


xXx

In between mind-numbing sessions of fire and agony and death, Itachi sees all the scenes from memories he has long ago locked away, recordings of a childhood that feel as if they belong in a different lifetime to a different person.

The smile that, like a searchlight, landed upon Itachi and painted colors onto the barren loneliness of prodigy. The feathered touches on his hands, gently guiding them into the correct position.

The gossamer thin strands of unshakeable resolve, the shattering tenderness of shared hearts, the unwavering gaze that met his own.

Perhaps it is the familiar air of Konoha that has dredged these memories out and dangles them before him. Itachi sees Shisui in the corner of his absent eyes, and he latches on, running at full speed to chase the blistering current of the Nakano, feet pounding, not fast enough, not fast enough to catch up to the pace of his heart, and…

Itachi's head slams into the cement floor of the prison with a thack, dispelling the sweeping taunts of the river.

"Still nothing?" Ibiki's growl rings in Itachi's ears.

"He has not said a word," Itachi's interrogator responds, a picture of helplessness. "We've tried everything, Morino-san. We've worn out three members already, and still, he won't talk."

Itachi is flipped onto his back and pinned down what is presumably Ibiki's foot.

"You will break," says Ibiki. "Everybody does under my watch."

What Ibiki doesn't know is that there is nothing truly left to break. Under the immense pressure, Itachi's ribs and lung give way. He feels the blood pooling as his body seizes in a fit, trickling down his throat, and he imagines Shisui facedown in the Nakano, drowning in the future failures of the cousin he had entrusted so much onto.


xXx

"Has he said anything?" Tsunade asks.

"Nothing," Ibiki replies, arms behind his back and looking visibly vexed by the situation. The floundering of the whole thing is clearly weighing down on him, but for all that, Tsunade can see a faint shimmer of respect in Ibiki's eyes. "The Uchiha has yet to respond to our interrogation. We have already employed a combination of physical and psychological means, including mind techniques simulating the massacre itself. I would like to request that we move on to other tactics."

Forbidden tactics, he does not say, the kind that can render even the strongest minds and bodies into nothing more than breathing lumps of flesh. Tsunade frowns. Though she has always understood the need for such methodologies to exist, two wars and countless fallen comrades and a defected friend have done nothing but coat her mouth with distaste at the thought.

"Denied for now," Tsuade says to Ibiki's surprise. "Itachi does have valuable information, but from what I can gather, I find it unlikely that we will be able to extract it from him. You trained with Itachi, did you not?"

"Yes, Hokage-sama. Still - "

"If that is the case, I would like to halt the interrogation for now, and tend to his health first."

Ibiki stares at her. "But - "

"I believe there are other ways of making him talk, for which we need him alive," Tsunade explains, her fingers tapping. She dismisses him without elaboration. When Itachi first arrived, Shizune had conducted the initial examination. He was already weakened prior to his injuries, she had concluded, but without explanation as to what caused the damage to his body.

There is more still weighing on Tsunade. For Itachi to be left in the condition he was could mean only one thing. It was a message for Konoha. Not a gift, certainly. A member of the Akatsuki would never be so easily surrendered by another village, allied or not.

It means there was someone or something far more dangerous waiting in the darkness for them to take the bait.


xXx

Kakashi surveys the scene before him in silence: Uchiha Itachi hunched over before him, a mottled form resembling a shadow more than a shinobi, and the name that is passed on in hushed whispers in the Academy has been reduced to this battered body wearing nothing more than a cloak of pride that should have all been cast away in tatters. Despite his ragged breaths, despite his depleted chakra and hollowed out eyes, Itachi is unmistakably Uchiha.

Kakashi has every reason to be angry. Before him is the source of years of dull throbs in his chest, of the indelible scars of betrayal, of the moment when his heart stopped on that unforgettable, unforgivable night. Years spent traveling, fighting, shredding their humanity but forging ironclad reputations together, it all had evaporated then. And Kakashi, as Itachi's ANBU mentor, could only sit awake on sleepless nights to wonder how he had missed all the signs.

Except he isn't angry. Instead Kakashi is reminded of Obito who, despite his clan's thinly veiled disappointment and mutters of that failure of an Uchiha, proudly brandished his clan's crest in every katon he released. Who, in the face of scornful laughter, declared his dreams of becoming Hokage.

The pride of a shinobi is an odd thing, but it reveals itself in the most trying of times. And Itachi wears it in spades.

"Sensei?" Naruto intones, breaking Kakashi's reverie. The blond boy is slouched, but his eyes are bright in the dark confined of the prison. The incandescent exuberance that Naruto is known for has been dimmed, muted by the sight.

Kakashi steps forward and squats down, bringing himself to Itachi's eye level (though the irony dawns on him - in any other circumstance, he would have been doing everything in his power to avoid exactly this). "Uchiha Itachi. I hear that you have yet to speak, despite Ibiki's best efforts. Looks like those days spent in the ANBU have stayed with you."

Itachi, predictably, remains silent.

Ignoring Naruto's protests, Kakashi sits down and beckons his student to do the same. The jinchuuriki obeys with a sullen glare, depositing himself across from their captive and placing a heavy load of trust into Kakashi's hands.

Kakashi, for his part, redirects his attention back. "We were recently on a mission to capture you and bring you back in the hopes that it would lure Sasuke back to Konoha."

"Yeah, but now he's here already," Naruto interrupts loudly, blazing with the unjustness experienced only by teenagers whose infallible plans have somehow been thwarted by the world. "Sasuke's already got his revenge, and now he's off with that weird Tobi person, and we don't even have a way of finding him."

Naruto is too deep in his coursing emotions to notice, but Kakashi sees what Ibiki has struggled for days to obtain. A crack in Itachi's emotionless façade. Just the slight tensing of a muscle in the cheek, the slight parting of his lips. There it is - the key to making Itachi talk.

"Naruto is right. Our only goal is to bring Sasuke back to Konoha, but he is now under the protection of the Akatsuki. I don't suppose you would know of their location?" Kakashi pauses, but there is no response. He presses on. "Surely your desire for power has not been wholly consumed by your defeat at Sasuke's hands."

Nothing. Whatever had caused Itachi's temporary falter has vanished, and their prisoner is once again a perfect sculptural rendition of apathy.

Knowing that there is nothing more to gain, Kakashi stands, Naruto following soon after. "Let's go, Naruto."


xXx

Privately, once Naruto has returned home, Kakashi stops by the memorial shrine and sits. He has often conversed with his former teammates and sensei this way, consulting them. Soundlessly of course. It has never taken very much for shinobi to be labeled 'unstable' and stripped of their missions. Though the village ages and the list of names grows longer, some things never change.

Today, he is greeted by stony silence.

Itachi is not unfeeling, that Kakashi knows. Quite the opposite. Years of working together in the ANBU showed him that, for all that their jobs were to remain masked in form and spirit. If anything, Kakashi has always noted the barest hint of hesitation before Itachi's blade swept across the necks of his targets, and the furtive tears that fell at night when the boy thought nobody was watching.

A massacre to test his strength? It had been laughable then, and continues to be.

Itachi had reacted when Sasuke was brought up, but the moment he was reminded of the prevailing narrative of his actions, he immediately seized back up. There is certainly something Itachi is covering up. Years old suspicions begin swirling again in Kakashi's mind, puzzles and questions that were never resolved.

What is it that he always told his students? Look beneath the beneath?

Kakashi rises, tracing familiar names with his fingers.

He knows he hasn't looked hard enough.

This time, he will get to the bottom of the mystery shrouding the Uchiha. This time, he will find what it is Itachi is hiding. He owes Obito, and by extension the Uchiha, at least that much.


xXx

Sasuke, embroiled in the Madara's grasp. Itachi's mind wraps itself around the thought the way that his fingers had wrapped around his katana just moments before he had plunged it into the warm bodies of his parents. Kakashi has no reason to concoct such a story, has no idea what it means or who Tobi really is.

But Itachi knows. It means his trap has failed, and Madara has evaded the Amaterasu hidden within his stolen eyes. It means that Sasuke is being fed with lies (or worse, the truth, though Itachi quickly banishes that possibility). It means that his younger brother who, after all this, should have been returning to Konoha with his head held high, is having his loyalties painted yet another color.

It means that he has failed.

Hand reaching up to his mouth, Itachi wipes away blood, and in the same motion, he wipes away the last vestige of hope he had been nursing.

Shisui… Itachi thinks. I've walked this path carrying your will, but in the end, I couldn't do it. What do I do now?

But his cousin is nine years dead, and all he hears is a silence that engulfs everything.


xXx

"Hokage-sama!" For the second time in as many months, Tsunade's morning is interrupted by a whirlwind of shinobi limbs. It is understandable, she decides, as she listens to the hasty report from Izumo. Konoha is not often greeted by the sight of an Akatsuki member, incapacitated or not, and the towering form of the shark-like tailless demon is generally enough to induce palpitations in the most seasoned of shinobi.

So she listens and she weighs out possibilities and she wonders if this gamble out of the hundreds that have squandered away various pieces of her soul would be worth it.

At her very core, Tsunade is a gambler. So it is that she nods, accompanied by words that feel out of place even to her. "I shall allow this visit. We will hold him in secrecy for a night and arrange the meeting tomorrow."

To Jiraiya, later that evening, Tsunade rationalizes her decision thusly. "It was an opportunity I could not pass up. We have yet to obtain any information, Jiraiya, and this seemed like as good a chance as any. Besides, surely even monsters have some emotions."

Jiraiya doesn't say a word, and truly he does not need to, to invoke the images of an insufferable, long-haired teammate who was brandished with the label long before he ever entered the shinobi academy of Konoha, and who neither of them had noticed was slipping away until he vanished, leaving behind only the hollow snakeskin memories of a team that once was.

Do monsters deserve kindness?

It depends on who you ask. It depends on who you believe is the monster - those who have locked away their kindness from the relentless battering of life, or those who never possessed it in the first place? Or perhaps worst of all, those who willingly withhold it from the ones who need it most?

If Jiraiya believes in one thing, it is that there are no such things as monsters, only those who have never been given a second chance.


xXx

Naruto witnesses the odd exchange with mute trepidation. He is flanked by the remaining two Sannin, and Kakashi, all huddled together in the narrow confines of the prison cell. Standing before them is a man wearing a dark cloak (notably devoid of red and white clouds), intimidating and filled to the brim with animalistic ferocity. In stark contrast, their prisoner is seated, thin and pale, wasted away by weeks of captivity and a body that is eating away at itself from the core.

An odd exchange, indeed.

Naruto shoots a glance at Tsunade who, to all of their surprise, had given her stamp of approval on the transaction. His response had been both vocal and visceral; the thought of allowing a known enemy to stroll into Konoha to speak to their most valuable prisoner was unimaginable. However, Naruto's curiosity soon took control, and he found himself agreeing to watch in the hopes that either Itachi or Kisame gives away something that can help them retrieve Sasuke.

And if he keeps his admiration to himself, so be it. Here is somebody who has walked straight to the heart of enemy territory to request a meeting with a teammate. Even if Kisame has retrieval in mind, Naruto would at least respect that show of comradery and the guts it took.

"Itachi-san," the blue man starts. There is nothing in his voice except genial blandness, as if he is speaking to Itachi at a teahouse rather than in the chakra-sealed walls deep beneath Konoha's ANBU headquarters.

The recipient of his greetings gives no response.

"I brought you these," Kisame says, throwing a wrapped package onto the ground. "Your medication. Was a pain to get the right stuff from that dogged healer; I even had to threaten to unleash Samehada and devour all her children and grandchildren before she would hand it over. I didn't actually, but it was tempting."

There is a long moment of silence; had Itachi possessed his eyes, Naruto would have been convinced of clandestine messages being passed back forth in coded gazes that can only be forged by time and countless life-staking battles. But their time as Akatsuki partners has passed, and Itachi and Kisame are no more linked than two blades that have once clashed.

Then there is movement. Itachi's head lifts, and a shaking hand soon after. Before any of the Konoha observers can begin to fathom its meaning, Kisame has already bent down and taken the skeletal hand in his, bringing it to his face.

The contact is fleeting and untethered by tenderness, but it underscores a relationship that Naruto has suspected before in his unyielding tendency of viewing everyone as human. (Only one who has been called a monster since birth can understand the power that the word can have.)

Only after that brief physical touch does Itachi speak for the first time since he was dragged into Konoha. "Kisame," he rasps.

Jiraiya mouths something to Tsunade; Naruto catches bits of it from the darting corners of his eyes. So he can speak. ANBU training. Impressive.

The moment is broken, however, by Kisame's looming figure shifting upright once more. "I'm done here," he says to Tsunade, unblinking eyes pointedly avoiding Naruto's.

"We will need to examine the medications contained in that package for any undesirable substances," she says, gesturing at the blonde boy. He obeys, picking up the paper parcel and peeling it open. Inside there is a bottle of pills, as Kisame had said. But there is something else too in a separate paper bag with a stick poking out.

By the time Naruto pulls out the dango, Kisame is already walking away without looking back. He holds onto the pills. He sets the dango down within Itachi's reach.


xXx

Naruto visits Itachi, on occasion, after that bizarre encounter with the Akatsuki member once intent on kidnapping him. He is told he is the only one by Jiraiya who, on his end, does not discourage it so long as Naruto remains focused on his sage training. The visits start out of curiosity. Perhaps understanding the man responsible for Sasuke's betrayal would provide insights on how to drag him back.

In addition, Naruto likes to believe that words can change a heart, so he allows his to freely slip out. Some days he talks about Ichiraku, other days about the weather. Once, he brings up his trip to the dango store that Kisame had visited, and lets Itachi know that it is indeed the best available in Konoha.

He never gets a response.

Other days, Naruto is angry. Frustrated, partially by their lack of progress on finding Sasuke, and partially in himself for letting his friend go in the first place. He shouts at Itachi, sayings words crueler than he has ever uttered. On one such visit, he finds himself particularly riled up by the reality of yet another dead end in his undying quest to bring his teammate home, and roars at Itachi's still form. "Don't you care? Sasuke is your brother! How could you do that to him?"

Nothing. Not a single twitch.

"This is hopeless," Naruto mutters, his footsteps ringing as he storms out.

What he doesn't know is just how deeply Itachi agrees.


xXx

Jiraiya is wrong, as he sometimes is.

Kakashi also visits Itachi, sitting with one knee up, a book propped in his hands. Unlike Naruto, his visits are always conducted in a strict silence, such that Kakashi is not even certain that Itachi knows it is him who is there (once, Itachi could have perceived him across swathes of forests and fields. Strange how quickly those times become smudges of the past).

This Itachi is nothing like the ones that dot his memory. The young but irreverently mature boy who had marched into the ANBU headquarters as if he was being led to his execution, wearing a mask long before he was handed one by the higher ups of Konoha. The waiflike limbs that had hardened, broadened with age and experience and bloodshed.

This Itachi is nothing more than a collection of bones held together by a thin cocoon of skin, so delicate that an early autumn breeze could have torn it apart. This Itachi doubles over every so often, hacking with inhuman sounds until parched throat is assuaged by blood. This Itachi keeps his eyes closed and his body lax, face pressed against the rough floors of the prison as he shudders.

Kakashi reminds himself of the Uchiha Itachi who would show up to torment his younger brother. He shudders at the memory of the Tsukuyomi. But even that Itachi feels so distant from this shell that lays before him.

These days, Kakashi feels at a loss. He suspects a river of emotions beneath the surface of Itachi's impassive face, one that will come flooding out if only somebody knew how to break down the dam. Anything, whether anger or resentment or grief, would be better than this emptiness.

Because Kakashi was ANBU too, he knows that feeling of hollowness all too well.


xXx

Itachi is aware of Naruto's presence, but chooses to ignore the younger boy - the Fourth's only son, the jinchuuriki, the one person Itachi trusted could convince Sasuke to change paths. He had known so many labels for the boy, and yet only the last one matters.

At the present, Itachi prefers this silence, tense as it may be. He has said all he had to say, has done all he had planned to do. There is nothing left now but to wait for death.

His chest burns. Itachi tries not to show it. He wonders, not for the first time, how it feels to drown. Wonders if Shisui is waiting for him. Wonders if his cousin would appreciate the irony that he drowned in minutes, and Itachi has been drowning from the blood and phlegm pooling in his lungs because of some unknown disease for years.

Itachi would laugh at this if it didn't require all of his concentration to just breathe. He hears a scuffling sounds as his uninvited visitor stands.

"We're going to bring him back," Naruto declares.

Internally, Itachi's heart rejoices at the words, but the feeling is oddly distant. Isn't this the only thing he has ever wanted? Yet he is so tired that even his thoughts are slipping away from him. He breathes past the pain building up in his lungs.

Naruto has reached the door now; there is the scrape of a stone against stone as he opens it. "You better stay alive," Naruto says. "Long enough to face him. To face Sasuke. He deserves answers to everything you've put him through."

The jinchuuriki leaves.

Itachi sways and falls forward, caught in a fit of coughs or laughter or sobs - he himself isn't sure which.


xXx

The revelation that Uchiha Madara bestows upon them is not a quiet one. Naruto slams a fist against the wooden beams that Yamato had enclosed him in. It's a lie. It's a lie.

But in his typical, gratingly cheerful manner, the masked man merely says, "You think you know Sasuke, but in truth, he is an avenger to the core, dead set now on the path to bring retribution for his supposedly fallen brother. He has chosen his path. Sasuke will be the one to destroy Konoha."

Avenger. The words linger long after the masked man has gone.

Kakashi immediately orders them to retreat despite Naruto's immediate reaction to chase after Sasuke. The journey back is a tense one, each member lost in his own thought, lost in the tautological refrain.

A teammate who chose to walk down a different path.

A former team member who carries the hatred of a village as retribution for the family he was ordered to kill.

A leader who has perhaps teetered on the knife-thin edge of morality for too long.

It is when they stop that Naruto finally speaks.

"Kakashi-sensei, do you think that man, Uchiha Madara, is telling the truth?"

Kakashi responds with a level gaze, single eye hooded. "Itachi has had many chances to kill me, kill us, Naruto. I could never understand why he did not. Moreover, his motives behind the massacre have never fully been understood…" he trails off, deciding not to assert his own misgivings.

It is not an answer, but to Naruto, this is enough. The wind stokes their campfire and it rises, a twisting mass of smoke and regrets, tunneling into the night sky. It is surely for this reason that his eyes are filled with tears.


xXx

Under the harsh lights of the Hokage's office, Itachi looks ever more mesmerizing than before - paper-like skin grown translucent from malnutrition, colored by fading bruises like drops of ink from a writer's quill as they write the final chapter. Even his hair, matted and scattered, is more like the mane of a wild horse than the thinning locks of a prisoner before his executioner.

He is gingerly placed onto a chair in the center of the room. Across from him, though he cannot see them of course, Tsunade has gathered the few who can be trusted with intel of this magnitude.

"You must be wondering why we have brought you here to the Hokage's office," Tsunade begins. "First of all, please rest assure that we have sealed this room fully, and nothing can be heard or leaked. I have with me Shizune, Jiraiya, Yamato, Naruto, and Kakashi."

Itachi does not move a single muscle.

"I will get straight to the point, Itachi. We have received information about your past," she says. At this, Itachi stiffens. It is a small movement, nearly obscured by the blanket around his shoulders, but it is more than he has given at all.

Kakashi speaks up from his position, his voice even despite arms that are pressed tightly across his chest. "Uchiha Madara spoke to us. He has informed us that the Uchiha Massacre was the result of a mission given to you by Konoha's Council in an effort to prevent a coup, and a subsequent war. You accepted, on the one condition that Sasuke be spared. Since then, you have been working as an undercover spy for Konoha, infiltrating and reporting on the actions of the Akatsuki."

Tsunade takes over. "Itachi, is this true?"

Under the weight of their intense stares, Itachi seems to crumble, folding into himself. His shoulders slump forward, and unseeing eyes squeeze shut, as if they can shut out the despair of a lifetime of lost chances. The lie is on the tip of his tongue, wavering. But what difference will it make now when they have already learned of the truth? He is so exhausted…

"Yes," Itachi whispers.

The Konoha shinobi exchange troubled looks. Tsunade's mouth tightens, drawing into a thin line. For all the perfection of the jutsu she applies each day, like make-up, the ripples of grief and regret instantly age her, and suddenly she looks more a worn out shinobi who has lived through more wars than she ever wanted to see than the ruthlessly pragmatic leader she portrays.

"Itachi, I am sorry to ask more of you now, but can you tell us what truly happened?" she asks, hating herself for the request to tear open his chest once more. "Uchiha Madara and the Akatsuki have captured Sasuke, and told him this truth behind your mission. What's more, we've received word that Sasuke joined forces with Madara, killed Danzo, and has his sights set on Konoha. If there is an explanation for this, Itachi, we need to hear it."

If it is possible, Itachi's face grows even paler; his head jerks up. "Impossible. I -" but then he breaks off, brows furrowing in contemplation.

Though he has confirmed it once with words, Itachi's reaction only further solidifies the validity of Madara's claims. Tsunade knows it then. For a brief moment, she thinks back to the Sandaime, her sensei, and her hands ball into fists. Why? Why had he allowed the unrest to progress to such a level that an uprising would be inevitable? And why would he agree to allowing a child (even if said child was an ANBU captain) to slaughter his own family?

A heavy hand lands on her shoulder. She looks up, but Jiraiya does not meet her eyes, shaking his head subtly. It is not the time to speculate or lament about the past. She is the Fifth Hokage, and there is a threat to Konoha, perhaps the greatest one the village has ever seen. This is no time to spiral.

"Itachi," Kakashi repeats. His knuckles are white.

Moments pass in silence as they wait.


xXx

Itachi takes in a deep breath, willing his racing mind to slow. Another misstep. Another miscalculation. He has underestimated the depth of Madara's knowledge and abilities, for surely the Amaterasu he had implanted within his eyes have triggered already.

There is nothing left then. Nothing more he can do. And truthfully, he should have died at Sasuke's hands, so what is another failure in this life of tragedies wrought by the most noble of intentions?

Itachi closes his eyes, and slowly begins recounting the events, still fresh in his memory, that led to the fateful night. He omits certain details, skipping the moments like the nights spent with Shisui by the river, often in silence as they weighed lives over lives. How Shisui saved him from loneliness, how they spoke in the language of prodigies, so simultaneously reviled and revered. The scenes that have played over in his mind since his imprisonment, punctuating the dull reprieves between Ibiki's sessions. How would things have been different if only they had acted sooner? If Shisui had lived?

But Itachi grits his teeth as he reaches the last moments they shared, willing the bitterness out of his voice.

"Shisui already lost an eye to Danzo, and was succumbing to the effects of Aburame Yoji's poison. With that, our plan for Shisui to cast Kotoamatsukami on my father and the rest of the clan was impossible. The chances that Danzo would return for his remaining eye was high, so in that moment, Shisui entrusted his will to me knowing that his death would trigger my Mangekyo."

Itachi speaks calmly, decisively, without inflection or tremors that arise from the plucking of emotions on worn heart strings. He provides details when needed, glosses over others, skips his final encounter with his parents, and the one with Sasuke on the night he allowed his weakness to shimmer in his eyes. On his escapades in the Akatsuki, Itachi is more liberal with information, informing the Konoha shinobi of his careful watch on Orochimaru, of his previous partners, of the times he deftly sabotaged their plans. He mentions the many coded messages he has transmitted back to Konoha over the years, though now it is apparent that Danzo may have concealed information for his own gain.

Itachi's lack of eyes prevents him from seeing the way Jiraiya tenses and Tsunade looks away when he mentions the final battle with Orochimaru, and the end of a teammate they had inadvertently let go whilst embroiled with their own demons.

As he draws closer to the present, Itachi slows. There is so much to tell them, and at the same time, he does not have much to say because everything he has done to this point, all the failures in his attempts to save Sasuke from darkness, are out in the open.

This time, he welcomes the familiar taste of blood in his mouth, expelling it with harsh coughs, allowing the pain to take over. Then numbness washes over him as he feels chakra pumping into his body.

"Your condition is not caused by injury," Tsunade says, panting as she reaches the limits of her medical jutsu. "Shizune told me she could not identify what could be causing this damage to your lungs."

Lying on his back with nothing but darkness around him, Itachi fights the urge to chuckle at the absurdity of being treated by the Fifth Hokage herself, to laugh in a way he hasn't done since Shisui died and his eyes first began to bleed. "An unknown illness," he admits. "It is of no matter. I should have succumbed to it long ago…"

"What do we do now, Tsunade baa-chan? Itachi shouldn't be kept a prisoner."

That voice belongs to Naruto. Itachi hauls himself back into a sitting position. In the haze of the past few days (weeks? Months? Itachi has lost track of time), he had forgotten one crucial factor that could change everything.

The command. Kotoamatsukami. Naruto.

All is not yet lost.


xXx

The next sight is unexpected to the Konoha shinobi assembled in the Hokage's office. Uchiha Itachi, one of the most feared shinobi in bingo books across every nation, one of the Akatsuki, equal parts pariah and martyr, on his knees with his forehead pressed against the ground. It is shocking enough that the room freezes, caught in suspended time, until Naruto leaps to his feet and physically extracts Itachi from the unseemly position.

"Please," Itachi manages to say in those frozen moments. "This must never be revealed lest the Uchiha reputation be tarnished any further. Allow the sins of the past to remain forgotten as they are. Anything else would create great unease…"

He trails off, knowing And I promised Shisui would probably not be a convincing argument, even if it is all that is important.

"That's ridiculous," Naruto protests, still holding onto Itachi's weightless frame. "You are an Uchiha and a hero to Konoha! You protected the village against a civil uprising, and then prevented the impending war by taking on all of the pain yourself. Surely Tsunade-baa-chan can restore the Uchiha name and set you free…" he falters upon catching sight of first Tsunade's and then Jiraiya's expressions.

"Itachi's right," Jiraiya says, but his words are nearly swallowed by the heaving, heavy sigh that follows. "There is too much to lose by releasing this information - we are not at a time when we can inject instability into the citizens' faith in Konoha or the institution of the Hokage. Uchiha Madara and the Akatsuki are on the move."

"You sacrificed so much," Tsunade says. Her voice is gentler than normal, softer, "All to protect your clan's reputation. Rest assured, Itachi, that we will not allow your past to leak out. And if Sasuke does return, and swears allegiance to Konoha once more, I will ensure that his actions against Danzo are pardoned."

"Thank you." Itachi is sincere, bowing as best as he can manage.

Tsunade makes a strange, choking sound in response. Several moments later, she says, "I'm sorry, Itachi. We will need to keep you detained in order to avoid suspicion by those who already know that you are here in Konoha. However, I or Shizune will personally tend to your health, and try to keep you comfortable. It is the least we can do."

To prolong his life. Itachi considers refusing, but years of shinobi training and obeying protocol force him to swallow his words.

Itachi points his face in the direction of Naruto, detecting that familiar chakra signature. He does not mention Shisui's Kotoamatsukami, hidden first in his crow and now in Naruto. Allows himself to retain this one last hope for redemption as he is carried back to his cell.


xXx

Sasuke. Sasuke. Sasuke. The mantra never stops, like grains of sand flowing through an hourglass. Itachi is not sure how much more is left before he runs out of time and prayers. Sasuke. Sasuke. Sasuke.

In between, he sees Shisui's outstretched fingers. He reaches out; the distance between them grows, and Itachi can do nothing but watch. Sometimes the river swallows Shisui completely. Sometimes he floats. Regardless, his eyes are always present, boring into Itachi.

Carry my will. I believe in you. You are not alone. They say.

Itachi shakes his head. You don't understand. You haven't seen what I have done, the blood on my hands. How I have failed.

I trusted you, Itachi.

Then Shisui flickers away, and once again, he hears Sasuke. Sasuke. Sasuke.


xXx

Today is a lucid day. He identifies his visitor before the other shinobi has set foot inside his cell.

"Why are you here again, Kisame?" Itachi asks without bothering to hide the weakness in his voice. He is tired; he thinks briefly about sitting up but even the thought wears him out. Though the treatment Tsunade administered combined with his medication have alleviated the worst of his symptoms and taken the edge off of his coughing fits, it feels as if his body has simply given up.

Funny, really, that it has held on for so long when his mind had been so eager for death.

The other man, his former partner, is probably frowning. Itachi does not need his eyes to picture that expression.

"I wasn't aware that I needed to have a reason to pay a visit to my old partner, Itachi-san."

In the end, Kisame never answers the question, but Itachi has a good idea why. Something is happening. Madara is making a move, controlling the Akatsuki from the shadows. There are tendrils of danger working there way closer and closer to Konoha. And Sasuke is likely somewhere near to the heart of it.

News about the outside world does not make its way into his chambers, and Itachi is not sure if this is an act of kindness or some other method of tormenting him. Without his eyes, he supposes he is of no use anyways, not to Sasuke or to the village, but in the endless stretches of time here, Itachi can think of little else.

In contrast, Kisame is not a sentimental person. His clan and village taught him otherwise. Yet loyalty and trust are hard to come by in the world of missing-nin, so Itachi knows that there is an inexplicable bond that has brought Kisame here, the one they forged through years of sparring and cheap hotels and countless brushes with death.

"You gave me something to hold onto," he says suddenly, hearing surprise in the way Kisame's cloak rustles when the man snaps his head up. "Thank you."

He pictures Kisame's shrug as his former partner pushes something forward, and says, "Drink your tea, Itachi-san."


xXx

They finish the rest of the meal that Kisame brought in meticulous silence, broken only when Itachi bends over to cough. Kisame observes but does not reach over.

Theirs has never been a relationship that requires copious amounts of talking; if anything, Kisame has learned more about his younger partner from all the words he did not say. Everything about Itachi could be captured in moments before decapitating enemy nin, moments thereafter while washing blood off his weapons, moments at night staring out at nothing in particular.

When there is nothing left but bones on his plate, and Itachi's barely-eaten dango has hardened over, covered with dried blood, Kisame knows that they have run out of moments. Catching the guard's eyes, Kisame stands.

Before he leaves however, he finds himself compelled to say the thought on his mind.

"We had a good run, didn't we, Itachi-san?"

He feels Itachi's nod. "We did."

"Then this is farewell, Itachi-san."

No response. Not that he is expecting any.

Kisame grins to himself. Turns out he is not the only one who is terrible at accepting goodbyes.


xXx

Itachi has other visitors too. It is growing harder to identify who they are, and harder still to stay awake. There is no meaning in keeping track anymore. The Uchiha name is tarnished. He has been exposed enough. Shame, humiliation, and guilt have already come, wracked havoc through the last remnants of dignity he had clung to, and left a shattered legacy in its wake. Itachi can no longer bring himself to care about who sees him here, pathetically clinging to life.

The voices blend together. Their words are like garbled burbling of the Nakano River. Itachi stands at the edge and looks down, waiting to fall.

His next visitor is the one he has been waiting for. Itachi faces that familiar figure, meets the pair of crinkled eyes, and takes in that crescent smile telling him it is finally over.

"Shisui."

He welcomes the push that sends him plummeting.


xXx

Kakashi has seen many deaths over the years. Deaths of family. Deaths of loved ones. The majority of those names had been engraved in his memories, carved like characters onto the hard memorial stone. So many tears shed, so many regrets.

None of those deaths have been as sad as this one.

Uchiha Itachi passed away much the same way a breeze brushes past a village, and stills. It came as a shock to no one. Logically, as Tsunade had explained upon thorough examination of his body after the truth was revealed, they had all known that whatever disease had been eating away at him was reaching its final stretch. There was nothing left for it to devour. Even so, the thought that somebody as powerful, as infamous, as feared as Uchiha Itachi could simply wither away in his prison cell was beyond comprehension.

Nobody was there when it happened, and that is what kills Kakashi the most. Just as Itachi had been alone in life, so he was in death, when his last breath finally drew a close on yet another tragic chapter of the Uchiha clan's saga. Just another shinobi whose name will be buried in the sordid history of Konoha.

He died without knowing his younger brother's fate. He died without a single person to mourn his passing. He died a failure in the eyes of the village he loved most, and in his own eyes as well. But for all that, Itachi died with a smile on his face.

And if someday Kakashi, while donning the robes of the Hokage, vibrant patterns of red rippling from the cheers of a nation fresh out of war and victorious, thinks about the blood splattered on prison floors and the empty sockets where a pair of history's most formidable and most loyal Sharingan eyes once blazed, nobody needs to know.


Author's Note

If you are not interested in the longwinded ramblings below, feel free to ignore this section. The story may be updated if I find errors or decide to elaborate on certain sections.

This story is bizarre, non-canonical (Jiraiya alive, Kisame, altered timelines, etc.), and perhaps feels plotless as well. I understand and will take the critical reviews as they come. Originally, I started this piece of writing to get these scenes out of my mind without intention of publishing it, but then wanted to pay tribute to the many incredible Itachi works I have read.

The title comes from Emily's Dickinson's famous poem: There is a certain slant of light. I felt like it was fitting with its themes of clarity and despair.

To the best of my ability, I've recorded all of the pieces that have inspired specific sections or sentences used in this story. It feels like many stories are disappearing from here- I swear there used to be more centered around Itachi and Kisame or Shisui.

-Everything about Itachi / Shisui in my mind has been colored by the wonderful Itachi-centered stories by coincident / nthcoincident, who is the best writer I have ever come across after thousands and thousands of fanfiction works consumed over past 15 years, and whose writing is sadly no longer widely available on the internet.

- Itachi's way of feeling the texture of Kisame's skin to identify that it's him (because no henge could ever replicate that telltale texture): Tunnel Vision by Gigabomb

- The wonderful imagery of Itachi breaking and folding in on himself: Under the Bludgeoning of Chance by Idiot Number 42

- The story gave me the original inspiration of Itachi being "returned" to Konoha by Madara, albeit under very different circumstances: For Brothers Share this Bond by ForeverLilacLies

- Not directly related, but black. k. kat (remove spaces) has some of the most amazing stories centered around Genma or the Sannin (Snake in the Grass), and whose characterizations I wish I could have captured.