Chapter Two: Staring
The chunin who stand guard at the divide between the Uchiha sector and the rest of the village all follow me with watchful eyes as I approach one of them.
"D'you have a pass?" the man asks, removing the cigarette from between his teeth and purposefully blowing the smoke in my direction.
I hold out my slip of paper to him and he snatches it from me, passing his eyes over it and muttering to himself. When he gets to the bottom, he pauses to raise an eyebrow. "Is states your purpose as checking in at Anbu headquarters. A little snot like you in Anbu? Sounds suspicious."
I bite my tongue to keep from telling him that I'm seventeen – there are Anbu far younger than I in the organization.
The chunin at a post to his right turns to us. "Enough out of you, Watanabe." She reprimands, glancing at me, "That's Uchiha Fugaku's son – he is Anbu. Let him through – he gave you the paper."
Watanabe watches me for a moment longer, probably waiting for me to stab him out of the blue, before dropping the cigarette to the pavement and grinding it with his heel as he waves me through.
It's hard to avoid attention on the street. Many people mutter as I pass, pointing to the prominent clan symbol on the back of my shirt. Others send cold looks my way and others still a rude jeer or two. I ignore all and continue on my way, determined to accomplish my own personal mission of delivering the information on the coup's planning to the Hokage.
Among the various villagers and shinobi on the Konoha streets, there is one that sticks out time and time again. I do not know his name, nor his status, nor the village from which he hails, but I do know this: with his single-eyed mask and long, dark hair, I feel nothing but an ominous air radiating from him. Maybe I'm only overreacting, but a shinobi's hunches are rarely wrong.
He catches me watching him peruse the village and nods slightly to me, which takes me a little by surprise. I nod back and turn away, though I can feel his eye from that single eyehole boring into my back, and I know how he watches the other Uchihas around – I've seen him at it before.
Something about that trademark black hair, or maybe a glint of scarlet in the darkness of his eye. It makes me wonder . . . if all the Uchiha are really in the Uchiha sector.
As far as I know, there's only been one person in our clan's history that defected without being confirmed dead . . .
I don't let myself expand on that thought, afraid of my own reasoning. Instead I take the elevator up the Hokage tower until I reach the correct floor. After arriving at my destination, I knock on the heavy wooden door and wait for a moment before I hear the aging voice from within.
"Come in."
I enter, latching the door behind me without a sound, as is a habit among most shinobi. The Sandaime looks up at my entrance and grins, removing his pipe.
"Itachi my boy, welcome, welcome."
"I have news on the coup's developments." I announce as I am waved over to stand before his desk.
"Straight to the point, as usual." He smiles, the pipe once again between his teeth. "You young people are always in a hurry. Well, let's hear it then."
"There will be a meeting held tomorrow between the leaders of my clan discussing the date and tactics of the attack." I report, "With your permission, sir, Shisui and I have come up with something that just might stop them . . ."
The Sandaime leans back in his chair and smokes as I explain the plan, the details of which Shisui and I worked out yesterday afternoon. Occasionally, he asks a question, but mostly he just nods his head and says "Hmm" in an ambiguous manner.
When I finish, he is silent for a few moments and I almost think he's forgotten I'm here. Finally, he speaks.
"You know, Itachi, that I still wish to negotiate with the Uchiha. War must be avoided at all costs."
"Yes sir." I say, because I realize and share those sentiments.
"If war is to be avoided by meddling with people's minds . . ." he sighs, long and heavy. "Then if we must, we must. I will authorize you and Shisui to follow through with this plan of yours. However, exercise the utmost caution; meddle only as much as you need to, and no more.
"I understand, sir." I hesitate, having thought of another thing to ask him. The Hokage notices my pause and addresses it.
"Is there something else, my boy?"
"Well, it's kind of silly, but . . ." I shrug and look down as he waits expectantly. "I was hoping . . . I was going to ask if you could," I swallow, "Maybe not give me any assignments that would have me out of the village on the fourteenth of August?" I know it's petty of me to ask for a day off, and I feel rather ashamed to be doing so. Father would die of embarrassment over me if he could see this scene. But I plow on. "I-it's the induction ceremony for new academy students that day and I promised Sasuke I would come." I stare at my feet, waiting for judgement to be passed.
"Itachi." I hear the soft puff of the pipe. "Duty to the village is most important, I know you know that."
"Yes sir." Having been rejected, I feel all the more ashamed for asking.
"If I assign you a mission, I expect you to complete it, no matter what's happening that day."
"Yes sir."
"But between you and me," I hear the smile in his voice, "There are plenty of other able-bodied Anbu that can take an assignment on August the fourteenth."
A grin stretches across my face and the Hokage winks at me as I stop staring at my feet. "Thank you sir."
…
I'm walking home the long way – through the forest, because I do love the forest in summer. It's thrumming with life, with bird calls and cricket chirps and squirrel chatter. The Naka River gurgles nearby, just out of sight. As I walk, the mood of the animals seems to change from one of carefree happiness to one of a more anxious air. A bird trills ahead and a whole flock of them rise with a flutter of wings and scrambling of claws – a sure sign of disturbance.
I place a hand on the hilt of my Anbu katana, unsure of the danger approaching. The bracken rustles and sticks crack ahead – a hurried dash, heading straight for me.
Just as I am about to draw my katana a human form appears, clambering through the undergrowth with all the grace of a drunken bull. I allow my hand to relax from the sword as recognition dawns.
"Shisui?"
"Itachi!"
I race towards him, catching him as he stumbles. He's holding a hand over the right half of his face. I see the scarlet of fresh blood around his fingers, and the brown smears of dried blood caked there as well. He reeks of iron.
"What happened?" I ask frantically, wanting to shake him but afraid of injuring him further, "Are there enemy shinobi? Where!"
Shisui shakes his head. "Danzo."
"Danzo did this to you?" I shriek, picturing the head of the Root organization. He's always been a little shady, but he's still a well-respected shinobi throughout the village and by all accounts, loyal to the village above all. "Why?!"
Shisui's only answer is to shakily remove his hand from the right side of his face, revealing nothing but a blood-encrusted, gaping hole of an eye.
"Took my Sharingan." He explains needlessly, then points to his leg. "Think my ankle's shot, too."
His ankle is a nasty purplish color and three times its usual size, probably broken or at least fractured.
"You shouldn't have tried to walk on it." I reprimand, careful not to touch it and cause him more pain.
"How else was I supposed to get away?"
I tear the bottom of my shirt away and use it as a makeshift bandage for his ankle, and then use the sleeves of my shirt to try and staunch the bleeding from his eye. "Just until we get to the hospital." I assure him, but Shisui grabs my wrist.
"You can't take me to the hospital. You can't take me anywhere. You have to leave me here." He speaks with such conviction and his grip on my wrist is like iron.
"That's ridiculous." I snap, preparing to lift him. He shakes his head firmly.
"They'll want to know what happened here."
"Then we'll tell them."
"Itachi you can't!" Shisui hisses, all trace of his usual good humor gone, "If the clan finds out that a village member did this it will only increase their hatred. All hope of reconciliation will be lost then."
I hesitate and bite my lip, realizing that he's right.
"Listen," he continues, "Danzo knows about the Kotoamatsukami plan. I don't know how, but he does – probably been spying on us. He thought the power would go to my head, thought I'd try to use it on him in the future."
"So he tried to take your eyes." I conclude, "But only got one."
"I need both for Kotoamatsukami." He says, "That plan's gone to hell."
I check to see if Shisui's eye socket has stopped bleeding under the fabric I'm pressing to it – it has – and I pour water over the wound to wash away all the congealed blood. He winces at the coldness.
"Itachi . . . He's going to come after me again, and he won't stop till he's got both eyes. He'll kill me if he has to."
He's right again.
"You have to take my left eye."
"What?!"
Shisui's bloody fingers are already at his left eye, digging under the lids. "Either Danzo gets it, or I give it to someone else. Personally, I'd rather you have it than that old bastard."
"Your entire ninja career will be ruined!" I protest, reaching out to grab his arm and stop him, only to be swatted away by his other hand.
"It was fun while it lasted." He shrugs.
I can do nothing but watch in fascinated horror as Shisui digs out his own eye with an awful, ripping, squelching sound. He holds it out to me and with a trembling hand I accept it, feeling the warm blood drip down my wrist.
"You'll die of blood loss at this rate." I point out as Shisui uses his sleeve to wipe the gushing scarlet.
He chuckles half-heartedly. "I had planned on something a little more dramatic. Blood loss is kind of a lame way to go for a shinobi."
"I guess." I try to return his laugh but it comes out more like a strangled coughing sound. "You're sure you'll be alright here on your own?"
"Yeah I'll be fine. I know which things to eat and which to stay away from. I can feel the leaves."
"I'll come to bring you fresh water every day." I assure him, "And when this whole thing is overwith you'll be able to return." I get to my feet and wash the blood off my hands and Shisui's eye with the remaining water in my bottle, knowing that Shisui has enough left in his own to last him through today.
"Yeah . . ." he agrees. "Hey, Itachi, promise me something."
"What's that?"
"Promise me that you'll protect the village . . . and also the family name. See this through to the end, Itachi. Bring peace to Konoha."
"Of course." I nod, though he can't see it. "You're the bravest of the brave, Shisui-nii."
It's the first time I've addressed him as a brother, and we both grin. "I'm not sure about that." Shisui replies, without elaborating. "Go now, your family will be wondering which village elder has attacked you, I'm sure."
On my way back through the forest, I stare at Shisui's eye in my hand. It's an eerie thing, to have your best friend's eye staring up at you. It's glassy but still clear, that black Uchiha iris staring at me, looking straight into my soul. The torn optic nerve pokes into my palm as I close my fist around the eye.
Overhead, a crow caws, loud and harsh. I glance up and see it perched on a branch nearby, eyeing me beadily. One eye, I see, is clouded over with milky white, probably injured by a fox. An idea forms in my mind as the bird caws again.
"What do you think, bird-brain?" I ask softly. The crow blinks. "How would you feel about new eyesight?" I uncurl my fist and show the crow the eyeball.
I stare at the crow and the crow stares at me and we stare at each other for several long moments. And in my open palm, Shisui's eye stares too.