Chapter Three: Accusations
"They pulled a body out of the Naka River this morning."
I am sitting on the roof of the Uchiha headquarters, half-listening in on the conversation between my oblivious clanmates below.
"Oh yeah? Who was it?"
"They're saying it's Shisui – with both of his eyes gone."
I sit up poker-straight, eyes wide, hardly daring to breathe. Did I hear correctly?
"Bummer." The other shakes his head. "Who did him in?"
"The official ruling was suicide. But did you hear me? His eyes were missing!"
"That's not unheard of." The man shrugs, "Plenty of dojutsu users destroy their eyes to keep them from being stolen after death."
The first shinobi grunts and crosses his arms. "It just seems kinda weird to me. I mean, Shisui was a pretty happy guy, right? Why'd he kill himself?"
"I didn't know him. But what are you trying to say?"
Shisui?! Dead?! This cannot be happening.
"Well, you know how killing a friend gets you the Mangekyo Sharingan, right?"
"Yeah."
"It's my understanding that Shisui and Fugaku's kid Itachi were pretty close. Itachi's always been kinda quiet and weird . . . I wouldn't put it past him to have murdered Shisui to advance his Sharingan. I mean, it would be pretty easy for him to stage a suicide, too. Y'know what I mean?"
I've heard enough. I take off from the roof with a simple need to just run.
Shisui is dead. I tell myself. Shisui has killed himself.
No, that's impossible. Shisui, grinning, jokester, Shisui. Only yesterday I spoke to him, we laughed together despite the horrid circumstance. Because that's Shisui – lighthearted about everything. Was he planning it then? I wonder, did he already know what he was going to do?
Yes, because I remember his words.
"I had planned on something a little more dramatic. Blood loss is kind of a lame way to go for a shinobi."
Damn him. Damn him!
I feel tears welling in my eyes and then I have to stop running because nausea is coming on strong. I stand at the roadside and cry and retch and toss up what I've eaten today through the blur of tears.
That is how my father finds me several minutes later, and though I can tell he wants to reprimand me for showing emotion, which shinobi by definition should never do, he also knows that I have just lost a friend, no, a brother, and I have every right to grieve.
At home I am sat down on the couch in the living room, shivering despite the July heat, where Mother wipes the sweat from my face with a cool cloth.
I thought we were in this together, Shisui . . . weren't we? How I wish I could call my crow here now, release it from the genjutsu I'm using to train it, and bring it sailing through the window onto my shoulder where it would blink at me with that one Sharingan eye and caw. But I can only do that when I'm alone so that nobody discovers Shisui's eye and asks questions. Here on the couch Mother rubs my arms and hugs me in a close, rocking hug while she murmurs things that I don't bother to hear.
But all I can do is stare dumbly at the framed picture on the mantle. It's just me and Shisui in that picture, arms around shoulders. Smiling like nothing's wrong and Shisui's not dead and our entire clan is not doomed by their own hatred.
Sasuke wanders in, sees my face, and immediately knows something's wrong. I want to relax and replace my horrorstruck features with those of calm serenity for his benefit, but I can't. Luckily Mother is there and she shoos him away gently, still with one arm around me.
"It's alright Sasuke, Itachi-nii will be fine, don't worry. Why don't you head upstairs and play Ninja Art Summon with Baku?" she suggests, referring to Sasuke's favorite stuffed animal – a green snake named Baku. Sasuke likes to pretend that he's signed a summoning contract with Baku and they have imaginary battles in Sasuke's room. He's getting a little old for the game and hasn't played in a while, but he knows better than to argue now and so makes his way upstairs.
"And remember not to disturb Father while he's in his meeting!" Mother calls after Sasuke.
Father! The meeting!
If before I was not able to recover from my shock, now ninja instincts are beginning to kick in. The meeting must be my main priority for now, so that I can get inside information on the coup's planning and report it. Grieving for Shisui will have to wait.
Duty comes first.
…..
"And they plan to attack here, here, and here." I point to the map in the Hokage's office without any conviction or feeling whatsoever. "And they're going to advance through this tower from the bottom and the top."
I hear the puff puff puff of the Sandaime's pipe as I finish explaining what I gathered from the meeting and turn to him. He just looks at me, long and silent.
"I heard about Shisui." He finally says, without making a comment on the attack plan I just illustrated, "I wish to express my condolences on the matter."
My condolences. What a formal and uncaring expression. "You have none." I say coldly, looking away.
"Itachi." His voice is gravelly and raspy, an old man's voice. "I love every man, woman, and child in this village as though they were my own children. Believe me, I grieve too. But Shisui died for a noble cause; that of peace."
"He committed suicide!" I shout.
The Sandaime removes his pipe. "He's trusting you to carry on his mission. You mustn't fail."
As I am walking down the stairs of the Hokage tower (because the elevator is under maintenance), a creaky old man is walking up.
Although he's only fifty-two, Danzo looks far older than his years, and the kids like to play a game of guessing what's under all those bandages around his right half. But most shinobi have concluded he's hiding injuries he sustained from the war that put him out of commission.
Danzo. I feel nothing but cold hatred for him now, standing above him on the stairs. I clench my fist and hold my tongue, remembering the feeling of an eyeball in my hand and the sight of a bloody man with two cavernous hollows.
He sees my anger, though I try to hold it in. Danzo smiles slightly at me, but it's not a pretty smile. It's the type of smile that delights in making others uncomfortable, the type of smile that likes to make people squirm.
"Do you hate me?" he rasps – damage to his throat makes his voice scratchy and alien. "Good. Use that hatred, boy."
"Hatred," I say, more to remind myself than to inform him, "Will never get me anywhere."
The elder watches me for a moment, and his mouth twitches as though deciding what to say. "Listen to me, Itachi, and listen closely. You may have thought that you'd found a way to reach a peaceful agreement, but you were wrong! Power corrupts people, boy, even those who you thought were trustworthy. Messing with the minds of others is a dangerous route, I see nothing but complicated animosity down that path."
His one visible eye is small and black and squinty as he makes eye contact. I glimpse madness there and look away, rather frightened.
"There is no hope for peace now . . ." Danzo trails off, shaking his head.
"Do you really think so?" I ask softly, because that's truly what I've begun to ask myself in the back of my own mind. Because we had one chance in which Shisui and I might have succeeded, and that chance has been destroyed beyond recognition. I can think of nothing else except to plead with my clan, and so far, that's been a miserable failure.
"You have a little brother don't you?"
The question takes me by surprise with its irrelevance. "Y-yes," I stammer, "His name is Sasuke."
"And how old is Sasuke?" Danzo asks with what seems to be genuine curiosity. I'm immediately on my guard; what does he want with a little kid like Sasuke?
"He's almost eight. He'll be starting at the Academy in August."
"As a Nii-san, you must love him very much."
"Yes, I do."
Danzo taps his cane on the wooden stairs thoughtfully and stares at me again. "Itachi, a peaceful resolution is out of the question at this point. Therefore, you have two options. Either you allow this coup d'état to happen, Konoha falls into war, and the entire Uchiha clan is wiped out." Here he stops, waiting for me to ask.
"What's the other option?"
"Or, you can save your Sasuke and Konoha." Danzo smiles again and that flicker of madness appears in his eye once more.
"What would that involve?" I notice that he did not specify saving other members of my clan, only Sasuke.
"Well . . ."
…..
There is a light rap on my bedroom door. I know it's Mother because Sasuke's knock is much more fast and urgent, and Father wouldn't knock at all.
When I don't answer, she calls quietly through the door. "There are some young men here to see you."
"I don't want to see them." I growl back, inspecting the framed picture in my hand. It is the same picture of Shisui and I that was on the mantle downstairs, and I've been staring at it for an hour. My thumb leaves smudge marks on the glass that, try as I might, I cannot rub off.
"Please, Itachi." Mother says. Something in her voice makes me sigh and stand up, placing the picture on the nightstand. I open the door and she looks relieved as I follow her downstairs; it's Uchiha Kaito at the door with his cousins Momoto and Itaru flanking him. Sasuke is sitting on the first step, eating a lollipop and watching the whole thing. Mother disappears into the depths of the house after delivering me to the door.
"Ah, here he is." Kaito says triumphantly as I appear. He is waving around a slip of yellow paper. "Tell me Itachi, what do you know about Shisui's death?"
"What are you, a reporter?" I glare. It's not really a habit of mine to be hostile to visitors, but said visitors don't habitually pour salt in my wounds either.
"Avoiding the question." Kaito raises an eyebrow and addresses his cousins. "How's that for an answer?"
"Clear enough." Momoto folds his arms, as does Itaru.
"What do you want?" I ask warily, starting to think that maybe I should have stayed in my room.
"What we want," Kaito announces regally, "Is the truth. Shisui was like a brother to us. We knew him probably better than anyone. It seems quite odd that he would kill himself for no reason."
As far as I know, Kaito and co only spoke to Shisui maybe three times in before his death. They worshipped him as one of the most talented members of the clan, but knew him well? No.
"If there was anyone who truly knew him," I reply, "It was me."
"Aha!" Kaito exclaims, "Do you deny, then, that Shisui was your best friend?"
Oh hell, I know where this is going. I had dismissed the accusation I heard yesterday as only a single deviant view, but apparently, it's not so deviant after all. My eyes narrow. "What are you suggesting, Kaito?"
"I think you know, Itachi. I'm suggesting, that you murdered Shisui to attain the Mangekyo Sharingan, and then staged a suicide. Not very well, either, I must say. I mean, his body showed signs of a struggle – his ankle was broken. And," he flourishes the paper and holds it out to me. "Is this really a good reason for a suicide?!"
I take the slip of paper from Kaito's hand, and immediately recognize Shisui's chicken-scratch handwriting.
My fellow Uchiha,
I love all of you more than words can express – you are my friends and my family, I have never forgotten that. We are a clan of great shinobi, but it has always been the fatal flaw of our bloodline to be more loyal to the clan than to the village. This is not the way of the shinobi, as all of you pledged when you received your Konoha hitai-ate as genin. The safety of the village comes before all else, and to destroy it as you all wish to do is the greatest dishonor. I, for one, cannot partake in these crimes (I would rather die), and as I watch the hungry river below me, I beg of you one last time: forget your differences, embrace Konoha with open arms, and bring peace to my home.
Uchiha Shisui
As I take in Shisui's signature at the bottom, the first emotion that fills me is pride for him, only to be washed away by a powerful wave of anger. Few times in my life have I ever been well and truly enraged, and never as strongly as this.
Itaru seems to sense the danger because he steps back a pace, but Kaito and Momoto just stand there like the arrogant toads they are.
"You think – you think I'd kill my best friend? My brother?" unintentionally, my eyes begin to pick out subtle movements of the men before me, the kind you see when your Sharingan is activated.
"Hey, now." Momoto's starting to get a little uneasy now, "No need for dojutsu."
"More than that," Kaito replies, ignoring Momoto, "I think you'd take his eyes to stop your own from wearing out – isn't that the way with Mangekyo?"
Although a small voice in the back of my head warns me against it, the rest of my body is already throwing myself at Kaito and my fists are already pounding his face faster than he can react, my vision is already nothing but scarlet. The others try to pull me off but I lash out and hit whatever I can, be it face, stomach, or throat, which are followed by loud curses.
It would be so easy to kill them all, I think, blundering idiots as they are. Just knock them in the right place and . . . it would be easy to do it without thinking, just like Danzo promised it would. My hands waver, uncertain.
Shouts are growing closer and then there are elbows hooked into mine and a knee countering every kick. I squirm but I'm not thinking clearly enough to actually escape.
"Itachi – Itachi!" Father whacks me good on the temple and this brings me out of my frenzy. I calm down, panting. My hair hangs in my face, mostly undone from its tie, my vision is still blurry and my eyes hurt.
"Mangekyo!" Kaito's voice comes from one of the forms on the ground. His voice is nasally like his nose might be bleeding. "I told you he had it!"
And then Father is apologizing for me and shoving me back into the house. Sasuke is in the doorway and we make eye contact, my vision getting sharper again.
Never has my little brother been frightened of me, but he is now, I can see it in the way he shrinks back and in his wide eyes and in the way he holds his hands close to his body.
"What the hell got into you, boy?!" Father snarls, letting go of me with a hard shove. And thus begins my descent in the eyes of my clan.
A/N: I hoped you liked this chapter, please review!