Itachi says nothing and Kisame giggles as they load me into their personal car.
What, no cages? Big white van? Plexi-glass? Bars?
Weird.
Itachi takes the wheel and Kisame sits next to me, gun still pressed to my temple.
I guess having a deranged shark man point a gun at you is usually enough to keep suspects contained.
"Wait 'til we get you to the station, kid! We've got a few friends who've been waiting weeks to get a hold of one of Shukaku's runts."
I ignore Mr. Trigger-Fins and glare pointedly at the driver.
"I hate to ask, but I gotta know before I worry about much else--are you going to tell Sasuke about this?"
He looks at me through the rear-view mirror and I'm impressed that he can make my hackles rise without his full face.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't tell him?"
"Uh...because he's a bastard that's made my life hell and will use this to make Dante's Purgatory seem nice."
He raises an eyebrow in vague disbelief. "You have read the works of Dante?"
I smile sweetly. "And without my teachers jamming books up my ass, too."
"Bet you'd like it, though," laughs Kisame.
"Charming company for an Uchiha."
"I would not be critiquing my company considering who you take orders from."
"I can hear you smirking you inbred bastard!"
I think the Uchihas must have done me wrong in another life; why else would it be impossible for me to keep calm in the presence of their DNA?
He just watches me through the rear view mirror, paying so little attention to the road that every turn we take makes me consider what my final words should be.
"So, tell me Uchiha--what's your family doing funding the police department? Trying to get the law to look the other way when your kids come to school with bruises? Or are you trying to buy your way into controlling the city? Because if that's why you're trying to pick on gang members, you should know you're not getting anything out of me. I don't know anything--Except who your mother fucked last night!"
There is silence in the car and I can see my horrified expression behind Itachi's reflection.
Fuck! What the hell was that about?
He he he!
Damnit, Kyuubi! What are you playing at?!
You mean you can't smell it brat? Their evil thickening the air--lingering in their clothes and skin? I'd thought the look in their eyes would have been familiar enough to you by now.
If there's anything evil in this car it's you! You've gotten pretty dull if you're starting to smell your own stench.
Just chill runt and let me take over this show, hm?
Do I have a choice?
Not anymore.
He sounds far too amused for my own comfort and like that I loose control in a wash of red and cruel laughter.
Most people would find a conversation like that a bit unnerving (discounting the whole talking-to-an-evil-voice-in-your-head thing), thinking me delusional for believing in "evil smells" and the like. But when the murderer in you tends to manifest itself in the form of a vicious red fox, you learn to trust the more--ahem--animalistic sides of yourself.
What, you think I enjoy hunting people like rabbits?
The truth is, everything has a distinct smell--trashcans always smell a bit like burnt coffee and rotten meat, kindness always smells like sugar and too-strong perfume, and fear smells (to me) like a thick slab of meat, extra rare.
Evil smells like egg yokes being cooked. Don't ask me why.
Unfortunately for me, Kyuubi is right--these guys may be cops, but there is no justice in them, only the cool, solidity of power and the thirst for more.
The car smells like omelets and I wonder how I missed it.
Funny--Sasuke doesn't have his brother's scent. All I've ever gotten off him is the bitter tang of hate and anger tinged with the salty smell of sadness.
I never liked it.
Kyuubi contorts my face into the same look Gaara wore not half an hour ago.
Kisame grunts and presses the barrel harder against my face, moving it back to rest against the spot just behind my ear. Itachi still isn't watching the road.
"So...Itachi Uchiha, hm?" Kyuubi purrs.
"Hey, Itachi; what's up with this anchovy?"
Itachi ignores his partner, watching me intently.
"You're not Uzumaki, are you?" he asks and Kyuubi throws my head back to laugh hysterically.
"What do you think?" He licks my lips and draws the tip of his tongue along the edge of my canines for emphasis.
"Is Uzumaki crazy then?"
"Are you?" he mocks and Itachi pulls over.
"Itachi--?"
"Shut up, Kisame."
"Oooh--did I hit a nerve?"
Itachi turns in his seat to look at me and he and Kyuubi lock eyes in a battle of midnight black and high-noon blue.
His eyes remind me of scalpels and I feel like I am the frog.
I can almost imagine what Itachi thinks he's seeing: the glint of a hidden madness, the high-haze of a lingering adrenaline rush, the uncertainty of a young idiot who's gotten himself in too much trouble. But then his expression changes oh so slightly, and I know he's trying to dig deeper.
Maybe he'll see a young child who's been left all alone, or an angry ten-year-old who watches happy birthday parties at parks with envy, or a broken-hearted teenager who's just realized he's never going to get the girl.
I wonder if he'll realize there's something more than all that and try to look underneath the underneath? He looks smart.
"Come on, you bastard. You're not stupid--what do you think you see in me?"
Itachi's eyes narrow fractionally and the feeling of being dissected resumes. He's digging, deeper and deeper and deeper, past all the parts that are me and all the parts that are Kyuubi until finally--
His face goes wide-eyed in a shocked way that looks unnatural on his stony face.
Some guys like him and Gaara just shouldn't have expressions.
"You have a...greatness in you."
Kyuubi snorts. "No shit, Sherlock."
Kisame has apparently had enough of being ignored and sounds grumpy when he says, "Itachi! What the hell is going on? Are we taking the brat in or killing him?!"
Itachi turns around and starts the car again.
"Neither."
"WHAT?!"
He looks at me again in through the rear-view mirror.
"Kisame. Let him go."
"But--!"
"Do it."
Reluctantly, suspiciously, the blue man takes the gun away.
"Uzumaki--"
"Kyuubi," he corrects.
"Kyuubi. Get out. Go home."
"Letting a suspect go without questioning? My, my, what naughty coppers we have with us today!"
"Get out before I change my mind."
Kyuubi laughs but gets me out on Itachi's side and the man rolls down his window just a crack.
"We'll be in touch."
"Whatever suits you, bastard."
They drive away, but not before I've heard Kisame whining about loosing a good catch.
What is up with that guy and fish?
By the time their tail lights have faded into the darkness, Kyuubi has climbed back behind his walls and gone to sleep, more than pleased with the turn of the night.I can finally feel how cold it is on my skin and I shiver, wishing for a jacket.
I look around and curse so loud several birds flee from a tree.
I have no idea where I am.
"Itachi? You want to fill me in on what happened back there?"
The young Uchiha is silent for a moment, considering his words carefully.
"I looked into him."
"And saw...what, exactly?"
"As I said; greatness. Dormant, but present."
Kisame was baffled. "That's it? You let him go because you saw that he has a little carisma?"
"Yes."
Kisame was all but impressed. Pissed, angry, anxious, and irritated at the idea of explaining what happened to their suspect, but not impressed.
"There had to have been something else--you've seen that sort of thing in a ton of guys! What's so different about one little brat?"
Itachi hesitated--actually hesitated!--sending off at least five alarms in Kisame's spiky blue head. Tenderly, his hand reached beneith his tall coller to stroke the curling KS that lay there.
"Itachi...what is it?"
"I looked into him and I saw..."
"What?"
"I saw change."
