Sasuke's shout is loud, cracking through the heavy silence of the night. Even more startling is his speed, but Itachi is at his strongest even as he sits there dumbly on the futon—Sasuke should know better than to charge directly at the Sharingan. He falls instantly into unconsciousness as Kisame stares on, his face serious and impassive while the boy's body slumps from the mat and onto the hard floor.
Not that Itachi can see much with clarity now: it's dark and the sharp vision offered by his doujutsu fades, its red glow dimming the room even further as he draws his chakra away from his eyes to deactivate it. Sasuke's rage must have been unfathomable for him to get up and swing at him, and Itachi is sure he will never be able to get his little brother's look of utter betrayal out of his head.
He hardens himself to it, getting to his feet to set to work at once.
Kisame stoops back down, placing two of his own fingers onto Sasuke's neck. "A confident child, isn't he?"
"Just confused," Itachi says. He tries not to move too quickly as he gathers up his things; it is an attempt not to show to a stranger that he's already agreed to his treasonous proposal without even a second thought. It just makes far too much sense; even if he'd stayed in Konoha, Danzo would've tried to get rid of him in one way or another—or go through with other plans to rid the village of the Uchiha. Either way the damage would have been done, and the more Itachi thinks on killing him, the more reasonable it sounds. "You do not need to tend to him so closely. It is as real as a genjutsu, but he will sleep for a few hours."
That gets a simple chuckle from Kisame, who stands again. "Those eyes are a marvel indeed. He's been quite frustrated with you, Itachi-san. Once, as I followed, I thought he was sure to storm off in the opposite direction just to be rid of you."
Itachi fights a frown as he folds the blanket and replaces it into the bag, but says nothing.
"Why did you not tell him the truth of it sooner?"
"He is only a boy," Itachi growls, bitterness evident in his voice. Far be it from him to let anyone think they can lecture an Uchiha but one of their own. "I wanted him to have a chance at something normal in this life."
The other man studies him for some time. The backpack is fully ready now, but Itachi finds himself unusually on edge, his nerves electrified as if he's anxious to be under that gaze. He tells himself, though, that he is just eager to be back on the road to Konoha. He's already imagined about a hundred different ways to kill Danzo, and he wonders if he should offer the Hokage a quick death—or if he'd give him the chance to explain himself first. The trickiest part would be not wearing himself out disposing of ANBU and ROOT members before reaching his true targets.
"He is already a soldier," Kisame says seriously. "A boy, yes, but a shinobi all the same. Deemed old enough by our own elders to be ready to see the horrors of the world. Normal is not—"
A violent cough forces its way from Itachi, interrupting the heavy talk and disrupting the quiet of the night. He winces as he doubles over, regretting that it's too painful to laugh; the suddenness of it had made Kisame flinch. He can taste the tint of blood in his mouth, but thankfully none spills over into his hands.
The outburst calms as he fishes in the pack for his medicinal pills. It's been quite some time since he's been tired enough to forget his meds, and he chides himself for his carelessness. This entire mess had rattled him far more than he'd expected.
"You can rest more, if you like. You have been waking out of sleep all night," he reminds him in a way that's almost fatherly—as fatherly as it can be from someone who'd been stalking them like prey. "We can spare some time to—"
"I slept enough." As if to show that he has plenty strength, he hoists up Sasuke's limp body by the waist and places him over his shoulder. He's heavy and the position is awkward, but Itachi has carried home the unconscious or dead bodies of his comrades before. And without worrying of tiring the younger boy, Itachi can sprint—they'll make it back home by midday. "We can make for Konoha the moment you're ready."
Kisame is still for another moment, then grins. The moonlight catches in his teeth, glinting like little pearls set in his jaw. "You certainly mean business. Fine, then; we leave now."
Their pace is swift indeed, and Itachi is grateful for his training and dedication to his craft. He finds he taps into his endurance with much more ease in high-intensity situations. The night is calm and the air is crisp the further they are from the sea, and for the entire journey he finds his heart squeezed. It feels almost like giddiness, but he wonders if it's something closer to hesitation or perhaps fear. He could be walking into a trap, and even if he isn't he knows the better option for his, and especially Sasuke's, safety would have been to just chart their original course.
Would his little brother ever be able to forgive him? For all of the whirlwind of the last few days, he hardly knows where to start.
It is just before dawn when they reach the border of the colossal forest surrounding the Village Hidden by Leaves. Itachi holds out his arm and closes his fist, his squad's symbol for a full stop. Kisame is sharp, gathering its meaning and coming to a graceful halt despite that hulking sword on his back. What had he called it? Samehada?
"We will walk from here," Itachi whispers. "Perimeter traps and alarm jutsu aren't uncommon on the outskirts of the Leaf."
"And they will be easier to spot and avoid at a snail's pace."
Itachi, ignoring the annoyed hint in Kisame's voice, hums in agreement. "That, and I admittedly have not yet devised the best plan of action."
"Plenty of time to scheme," Kisame says with surprising reassurance. They walk side by side in tandem as if they'd done it hundreds of times before. "It's not my first time making a kill on such a high-profile person."
"It would be simpler if I didn't have to factor Sasuke into things," he murmurs as if to himself. Could such an unruly kid be trusted to sit in one place and hide from danger rather than jumping headfirst into it? "Not to mention I still must consider the possibility that this is all a clever ruse to ferry me back into the arms of a man who'd sooner kill my family than talk to them."
"You are of course entitled to that opinion," Kisame says with a shrug. "Trust must be earned, after all. Perhaps I will win your affections when you see me carve Shimura-san into pieces."
"If you're quick enough to reach him before I render him invalid." They exchange small laughter at that, their banter even on such a gruesome subject comforting that gnawing feeling in Itachi's stomach.
The earliest of morning air is cool against his flushed skin, the sound of late-night insects quieted in the hours before the birds wake. Over his shoulder, Sasuke moans sleepily and presses his warm cheek against Itachi's. His chakra flow is slowly returning to its normal pace, and he will soon wake. Kisame's gaze flickers to him, then back to Itachi before settling on the mossy forest floor before them.
"Not many are as lucky," he says.
Itachi bristles at that, scoffing audibly. He would do anything, he knows, for his brother, but all Kisame has seen of their relationship hasn't seemed so kind: he'd dragged him all but kicking and screaming from home and kept him in the dark on the reasons why. "How do you mean?"
"He's been gifted as if on a silver platter," he explains quietly, "with the knowledge that a hidden village cares not for those who fight for it." The mask at the side of his face sways gently at the side of his head when he cocks it to glance over once more. "There are many who never have the chance to learn such a thing. Itachi-san, how old are you?"
The question is loaded, of course, but there is a spark that's come over the other man's features that's most intriguing. As closed off as Itachi had been at home, he finds the prospect of making a new friend unrelated to all of the sour tastes of the Leaf to be rather exciting. He could let someone like this get away with trying to teach him something, he thinks. "I am seventeen on the ninth day of next month."
Kisame nods slowly. "I was told you were a black-ops captain at age thirteen."
He can't help but smirk at that. "On paper, sure."
The other man sucks his teeth in disapproval. "Are you telling me they faked your age on the paperwork? They had their claws in you young. Herein lies the answer to your question: because of your diligence, they will not get that chance with little Sasuke-san. Is that not luck?"
When their eyes meet, something unspoken passes between them: two people who have seen far too much in their short lives, but still have hope for a better future. "Perhaps." He stares back at the moss, pensive. As it was back in the room by the sea, he tries his hand at evening their playing field. "And what about you?"
"I just entered my nineteenth year two months ago," he answers, "but my eyes have been open to the ways of the world since I was your brother's age."
"Yet you still do the bidding of those in control." He hadn't meant for it to sound so cruel, but Kisame merely nods again.
"And wear clothing traditional of my ex-comrades, it's true. I'm not blind to it; I simply exist in this world as it is. I work to change what I can, and play by its rules for those I cannot. Dressing this way offers me more protection and—"
"It's morning?"
Sasuke's voice is hoarse from the deep sleep of Tsukuyomi, but both of the older boys turn to look at him. Far behind them and through the dense tree cover Itachi sees the tiniest hints of rose and orange tint the sky, though all of it overhead is still inky and dotted with stars. He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, then kneels to let Sasuke stand on his own.
"Just about," he says as evenly as he can manage. Would he still be as angry and rash as he'd been hours ago?
Kisame is still as a statue staring off towards Konoha, somewhere miles and miles in the distance. When he speaks it comes with a hesitance that hadn't been there before. "It will not be morning for some time yet."
"But"—he wipes wearily at his eyes, the gesture startling in its innocence—"isn't that the sunrise?"
"The sun is rising, it's true," says Kisame in a severe tone, "but we are traveling west, not east."
Itachi, as he turns back around and stands there beside the two of them, feels as though all of the blood has left his body for how quickly and intensely a chill has struck him. What Sasuke had seen when he woke hadn't been the beautiful, quiet dawn behind them; it was the fire-red glow shining brighter and brighter between the treetops on the horizon before them, directly where the Village Hidden by Leaves sits nestled cozily among the big, ancient trunks.
"What is it?" Sasuke asks, shaken by the eerie quiet.
Itachi cannot speak; even when he tries to swallow the motion sticks uncomfortably in his throat. At that distance, he knows. His mind refuses to keep hold of it, but he knows. There is not another town between here and the Leaf, and suddenly the absence of buzzing bugs and chirping birds clicks in a sickening understanding. The blaze flashes once, twice, five times—the ground beneath them rumbles, the trees creaking and moaning with the force of it. He's only vaguely aware of Sasuke's small hand gripping him tightly by the waist, and when he glances over to Kisame, the look on his face says it all.
Konoha is in the midst of catastrophe, and everyone he and Sasuke have ever loved are surely caught in its grip.