Dinner Talk

Thick clouds huddled together above the village, smudging the colors of usually lively houses. As the rain drummed on the window, a dark-haired man quietly watched the scrambling silhouettes of some unlucky citizens seek shelter from the downpour. With each drop, grey skies seemingly engulfed the entire world.

Itachi sighed softly as he rested his head on the cold glass. His gaze lost its focus, blurring out the surroundings, as he allowed his other senses to take over. He had enjoyed monsoons ever since childhood, the constant tap of water hitting the ground easing his mind. It was the only time when he allowed long-forgotten memories to reemerge, flickers of emotion that he would tune out in any other circumstance. Solitude, however, offered the perfect setting to remember. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the way a young Sasuke would tremble at the roar of thunder. The boy used to attach himself to his side whenever there was a storm and he would only let go when it calmed down or when… or when she would join them as well. The vision of a pair of warm, blue eyes surfaced and Itachi could swear his chest physically ached the moment her face came to mind.

A flash of white from outside caught his eye and he broke from his reverie just in time to hear steps coming from the hallway. Sore stopped in the doorway and Itachi gave them an amused glance as water dripped from their dark cloak.

"I've brought dinner." The white-haired ninja announced flatly as they walked into the room and placed a plastic bag onto the table.

"I am surprised you have found anything considering the weather." The other commented, taking notice of the more than decent size of the satchel.

"People are willing enough to share their food when you know how to persuade them." Sore shrugged and offered no further explanations. "I'm going to take a shower and change. Wouldn't want to catch a cold during a mission. Feel free to start without me if that is your wish." They did not wait for a reply and promptly turned around, leaving Itachi to stare at their back.

No matter how brusque their movements were, they never lost their fluidity. It irked Itachi, the way his provisory partner hid so well behind that mask. Especially from him. He had noticed, in the brief meetings he had had with the mysterious shinobi, that they did start to warm up to some of the other members. Whilst, in the beginning they were cold and detached, as time passed Sore interacted more freely with the other Akatsuki, except with Itachi himself. They had never allowed their walls to crumble in his presence and was sure that they had purposely ignored him up until the two were given this mission together. The reason behind this treatment remained unknown.

Itachi's train of thought was disrupted once again as Sore stepped back into the hideout's main room, donned in another white robe. Fleetingly, he wondered how many of those the other ninja possessed. Except for the Akatsuki cloak, there was no other outer garment that the shinobi adorned. Come to think of it, the Sharingan-wielder had never seen any part of the other's body apart from their hands and neck. The lengths at which Sore went to hide their identity were truly admirable if not slightly annoying.

Sore cocked their head, placing their hands on their waist as they stared at him incredulously. "Did you actually wait for me?"

"What if I did? Is that so surprising?" Itachi asked, bemused at their reaction. It was the first crack they had shown and he would not allow the moment to pass without taking advantage.

"I didn't… ugh… expect you to wait; that is all." They stared at the ground for a second, avoiding his piercing gaze before continuing. "I've managed to find some herbs for tea in the village. Do you want a cup as well?" Sore bluntly changed the subject, hurryingly taking a small pot from a cabinet and filling it with water.

"I have never responded affirmatively." The former Leaf ninja remarked with a smirk. Sore dismissed his comment with the flick of a hand and carefully took out small containers with food from the plastic bag. "Everyone drinks tea in this weather."

Itachi bit back a retort and took a seat at the table. Figuring Sore out was like a game of chess. He had to think six steps ahead and saying anything else might provoke the masked ninja into retreating into their shell once again. They ate quietly, the constant drumming of the rain complementing what he would dare call a comfortable silence.

After the meal, Sore filled two cups with steaming tea and retook their place across him. Itachi mumbled a small thanks and they nodded in response.

"There is dango in a box somewhere in that bag." They revealed, pointing behind them. "I am going to my room, I'm sure you can handle the dishes. Good night, Itachi-sama." Sore bowed slightly and before the dark-haired male could blink, they were out of the room.

Itachi gawked at the door. He could not help but wonder how the ninja had found out about his soft spot for sweets. The only one who knew was Kisame and he highly doubted that his preferences were a topic of conversation between the two. Could it be that Sore had been a Konoha shinobi when he was there? That was highly improbable; they would have mentioned something if that was the case. Alas, there was dango waiting for him and he could contemplate the fact another time. Rising from his chair, Itachi walked to the bag and opened the indicated box. He popped a dumpling into his mouth and a sigh of content escaped his mouth.

Way later, while he was lying in bed, a thought suddenly occurred to him. Even though Sore ate in front of him, he had failed to see their face.

A.N. I'm really happy how this chapter turned out. I know it is very random for now, but things will start to make sense soon enough. I can't wait to write the next scene. Alas, I hope I can hear your thoughts on this one. Reviews would really bring me joy too. Anyhow, have a great day ahead. :)

P.S. I am (kind of) looking for someone to beta my stories before I post them. If interested, do not hesitate to give me a message.