Parasomnia

"Is it there?"

The whisper echoed on the darkness of his closed eyelids, and without realizing he moved his eyes from one side to another, trying to locate the origin of the sound. As if his sole wish will lure the figure from behind the black veil. It's useless, one part of his brain mumbled at him, but he didn't hear it, wanting to open his eyes and see the face of the person that voice belonged to.

"Is it there?" The voice asked once more. It sounded further, lower, as if crouched. Itachi wandered his eyes to the tip of his nose still with the eyelids tightly shut, his command fruitless. He exhaled hard through his nose and inhaled as far as his lungs allowed him, trying to keep the unpleasantry of his anxiety within his own borders. A slap, he thought begrudgingly, a slap will do for him to regain his wits. It was pain the thing that proved to be most effective when he needed to reclaim his mind, it was the physical punishment the tool he most often used to reach his consciousness.

His hands didn't move.

Something almost like desperation crept up for his spine knocking down his barriers, it had been so long since he last felt it reaching his muscles that the sole prospect of its existence almost turns his willpower into shreds to be dragged across the floor. And why won't you move –what's happening –where am I –where are you?

"Is it?" The sound re-appeared, its tone unforgiven. It was as easier as to say no, as easier as to open his mouth and speak a two lettered word. 'No.' He wanted to speak, to give it some comfort because he knew that if he says so, the voice, the person behind that voice, would believe him. But his mouth wouldn't open. Open, he commanded, a little part of him thinking how shameful was to actually tell himself to move, to be stripped of the unconscious physical volition that every being possessed, but he couldn't help it, he wanted. No. He needed to speak.

"Is the monster there?" The voice cracked. Itachi's body tensed at the voice willpower. 'No. No. It isn't there.' He thought. Loudly. Almost panicking at his incapability to move. His body wasn't responding and he had always counted with it before, with its muscular memory and reflexes, without it he was nothing, he was helpless, he couldn't protect them. And he needed— he wanted— all his life was—

"Brother," the voice cried and, not surprisingly, his heart clenched hurtfully at the sound of that word in that low, infant-like tone. He didn't know what to do, he wanted to reach for it, for something, to protect it from all the darkness and fears that surrounded him, but his body wasn't moving, it wasn't responding, it wasn't acting the way he wanted it to.

"Yes," he heard his own voice respond, but his mouth hasn't open. "It is."

No. It isn't.

"Brother," the little child whispered, swallowing, trembling.

No. It isn't. It isn't there. He thought.

And Oh- please just move, just MOVE ALREADY - there's no monster!

"Why?" he heard the question.

"Because-" his own voice rumbled once more. But it couldn't be his; it couldn't because his mouth wasn't moving. He wasn't talking -I'm not him. I'm not him-.

"-I wanted to prove the extent of my power."

There was a cold sensation that ran from the tip of his feet to his head, wrapping his muscles in waves, setting in his stomach and behind his eyelids. He couldn't breathe, his lungs felt full of stones that pushed him down to his knees as an ankle, chains trapping his feet with its cold metal. He subdued to the task, he was the one to carry the mission. He asked for his beloved to be spared. Trembling was, as it stands, the only viable option.

A sharp ray of light emerged from his right, and he could not remember at what point he had opened his eyes.

He blinked and looked at the window of the room, his eyes were burning, aching from the lack of moisture. He curled his fingers, his nails bit on his skin on desperate attempt to soothe. The realization that it had been a dream froze him as if tied to the bed by invisible ropes. His whole body was covered with sweat, the goosebumps on his naked body noticeable in the dim light, the mattress was uncomfortable on his back. The air in the room was cold.

Itachi swallowed the feeling that started to emerge in his throat at the remembrance of the dream and blinked quickly, twice, to ease the burning in his eyes. He brought a hand to his face and massaged his temple, pursing his lips. He hadn't been screaming, had he? That never happened before, or at least Kisame never said anything if he did, but Itachi knew that his partner wouldn't miss a chance to provoke him in his usual manner if that were to be the case. The last thing he needed was Kisame knowing about his nightmares, it was enough with him knowing about his disease.

He blew a lock of hair from his face and sat, watching his bare calves. He dressed quickly, repressing every thought, scratching the skin under his lips. He was about to open the door of the bedroom they miraculously were able to afford for the night when a knocking sound reached his ears. He didn't stop the motion, already knowing the identity of the person looking for him. And so, he was greeted with gray. Lots of it.

"Sleeping much?" Kisame asked, a cocky smirk reaching his features.

For a second, Itachi entertained the idea of his partner knowing about his dream but quickly drowned the thought under tons of excuses, maintaining his expression emotionless. He eyed the swordsman, who seemed capable enough to tease him but not dressed properly, his chest was bare and the Akatsuki tunic was on his shoulders like a cloak. Samehada strongly secured on his back.

The Uchiha restrained himself from rolling his eyes. From the moment they reached Tetsu No Kuni, Kisame had been walking around with no shirt, his scales almost shinning with the bright snow covering it al. Itachi was sure it was the swordsman way to show him that he was capable of withstanding low temperatures thanks to his skin and his place of origin, a show of superiority sustained with trembling pillars.

"What time is it?" Itachi asked.

Kisame's smile shrank making him look more like a man than whatever he was, but the image was never intended to last for he smiled again, wider, showing his whole teeth. "What, you have, like, no supervision to see the sky and find out?"

Itachi sighed, which was everything Kisame was about to get from him and his awful attempts at lengthened interactions. It was too early for this, too early for that shiny-pointy smile of his, and the Uchiha wandered how Kisame managed to be like this every. Single. Morning.

"We're leaving." He responded, and walked past his partner. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kisame open his nostrils, a wider -wider, wider, always wider- smile spreading across his face, his gills opening slightly.

"Oh, someone has been nasty." The swordsmen laughed and looked at Itachi with his tiny eyes. Itachi didn't respond but halted enough his walk for Kisame to continue. "Was it good?" He asked him, and before the inquisitive eyebrow of Itachi, he signaled his nose.

Kisame had smelled him.

And, even as gross as it was, Itachi was grateful that his partner believed that his sweat was there for other reasons than his own mind. Perhaps if he believed that Itachi could submit so easily to his most basic needs, to his flesh yearning for contact of any kind, then he will underestimate him enough for Itachi to make him meet his doom.

"Keep your nose away." He warned, and resumed his walking.

"Oh, come on, you know I can't help it. This baby is as sharp as—"

"—your teeth, yes, you already say that."

"Then you shouldn't be asking me to keep it away," Kisame retorted, reaching up to him with only two steps.

"Can we not?" Itachi asked, looking ahead.

Kisame sighed, disappointed, and buttoned his robe. "You're no fun."

"To you."

"So… do you know what day it is?"

They had achieved to walk in complete silence for hours much to Itachi's pleasure, the only sound interrupting the quietness being their footsteps in the snow and the clicking noise of Samehada against the buckle of Kisame's bag. Itachi sulked on the fact of not being able to enjoy it further, Kisame's vocal cords moving and producing the sound that will not cease until covered his talking needs. Itachi had no possible escape.

"No."

"Really?" Kisame asked him, his eyes followed the visible white air passing through Itachi's lips, his hot breath clashing with the coldness of the ambiance. "I thought you knew - probably - I don't know - It had been years since you left after all."

"Kisame."

"What?"

Itachi replied by narrowing his eyes.

"Okay. Fine. Don't give me that look - Geez -" Kisame growled, waving his hands dramatically as an innocent boy who didn't know better than to piss off a mass murderer. "So, I have been thinking - shut up don't you dare - like I said, I have been thinking, you know that back in Kiri the kids graduated from the Academy at the end of the year, right?-"

He paused, like expecting his response, but Itachi looked forward without giving him the satisfaction. Kisame didn't seem fazed by his lack of interest in the conversation, so he kept talking.

"Well, our-their graduation structure was pretty much out of the shinobi system for their methods -it's still is, even when they changed the final exam—" Kisame paused for a moment to kick some snow, "but even with that, the graduation occurred pretty much at the same time as other nations so Kiri could have a new ninja generation to compete with the other villages at the chünin exams-," he snorted, "—which is totally dumb if you ask me, because every class sent, what, only one representative? So they made teams with shinobi that barely knew each other and –why are you looking at me like that?"

"What's your point?" Itachi said, his patience growing thin.

"Today is graduation day…" Kisame smiled, "or maybe tomorrow, give it or take it a few days."

"And…?"

"Don't you have, like, a brother?"

It was hard for him to pretend he still didn't feel his lungs loaded with stones that anchored him to the floor vigorously as to sink him in down enough to reach the Earth's core. In happening, will it be enough to feel himself closer to his family whose blood watered the soil he stepped on? He scrapped as hard as he could his skin but the blood of his ancestors refused to be washed. "So?"

"Nothing. I thought you would be interested, that's all." Kisame replied casually, the grin on his face contrasting with the innocence of the statement.

"I'm not."

"Well, I thought—"

That's why is not your job to think, he thought bitterly, swallowing his statement and scratching the skin under his lip. His father has been so good at hiding his contempt. "Focus on the mission."

She decided right there that her world had pretty much ended the moment Iruka-sensei said the name of Sakura instead of hers, -even if that was probably an exaggeration-, but, come on, it was just ridiculous.

"So, what did you say about being with me on the same team?"

She heard the voice next to her, and she felt, more than watched, the smirk on his -stupid- face. She only growled as response and sank her face further between her arms, pursing her lips hard enough to ache. She wanted to cry but her pride forced her to bear the shame she felt at not been good enough to escape the path chosen for her. It was a hard pill to swallow, much more because it was filled with years upon years of delusion fed with the childish belief of possibility.

It was difficult to encounter failure when there was no mistake on her part, when the sole reason laid at the hands of her family ties. Her father always gave her what she wanted, but in this, he will not bend to her will. The better she got the better asset she will be to the formation decided upon her birth, Inoichi had allowed her to think of her wishes as achievable for the benefits of the alliance.

She didn't know how to handle the weight on her chest, and she didn't even care that the boys -her teammates, oh god, they were her teammates now- were waiting expectantly some motion on her part. Ino had experienced sadness, mostly the one that you feel when someone breaks your favorite toy, superficial on its appearance and easy to fix with a well-planted kiss on her forehead, and deeper sadness as well -the red ribbon that she kept in the drawer of her nightstand was the proof of that. But she had not experienced shame.

Inoichi, for all he loved her and all she loved him, had shamed her for letting her live in her delusion long enough to carve her hope deep in her skin, deep in her lungs. He should have ended the belief of a possibility as soon as escaped her lips and reached his ears, for now, the disappointment was eating her insides and burning her cheeks. Ino liked to believe that she was the type of person who did not perform a stitch without a thread. The knitting of her destiny was calculated as to become a pattern that suited her tastes -but now the pattern that she envisioned was never to exist, was never meant to exist. Was never to be her own.

So, summarizing, her life sucked and she wanted to die.

"Ino…" The voice of the Nara boy that she deeply unappreciated tried to get her attention from somewhere behind her, his tone tried to be gentle as to coax her out of her shield but she was furious at the world to force this down on her. So she resented him. She resented his clan and in doing so, she swallowed saliva and kept her mouth shut.

"Ino," Shikamaru called her again, almost demanding her to look in his direction -because she was not allowed to look somewhere beyond the Nara, beyond the Akimichi, beyond the stone with their three symbols carved with biting precision, tying them together until the end of time.

Her tongue curled inside her mouth and heat rose from her stomach to her throat, an impulse too well known and freeing for her to suppress, "I heard you already!" She snapped, the immediate satisfaction waving its way through her lips that curved up. She wanted more -she needed more, she wanted to push his buttons and torn him apart for his troubles, the young Nara never failed to make her miserable with his presence and judging stare, dooming her worthless. She needed the fire that he ignited in order to build herself up from her torn parts.

Unfortunately, Shikamaru was not to engage. His eyes ripped her up and down two times before he narrowed them, pushing her further down her frustration and rising her shame on the color of her skin. "Don't yell at me. I didn't arrange the teams." Was his logical response, none of her surfaced distress seemed to reach him, as if the formation sustained for generations didn't affect his true wishes. As if none of this was of importance. As if he didn't mind being with her. Such a lie.

"It won't be so bad…" Chöji tried to soothe her trembling being with a kind tone of voice and soft eyes, but benevolence only reminded her of the deception she created and they allowed. She was no child that needed that sort of compassion. She was no child but she had never felt so much like one as now.

"Whatever. Just. Ugh." Ino mumbled, standing from her seat and walking down the stairs of the classroom.

If Ino believed that he was running awkwardly towards the sunrise with a big smile on his face and a basket full of flowers because of the team they were forced in, she was totally wrong. Like, by a long shot. First of all, he wasn't a morning person. Second, yes, he had allowed himself to tease her when their former-sensei called their names together alongside Chöji, but only because there was no other prospect for them. And even when he usually didn't even bother, that opportunity was just too good to let it pass.

Who knew that stupid joke would get her so mad at him.

The girl can hold a grudge. He thought dismissively, opening his juice box. He pricked his upper lip with the straw while absently thinking of her outburst and the sudden pain made him recoil his hand and lick the spot with his tongue. In all his life, few things were of his choosing. In all their life, few things were of their choosing. It suited his tastes to be told his path as it suited his father's and those before him, it was the Nara way not to exert themselves to pursue an unachievable, it was secure to follow the already laid foundation.

Being clan heirs just shortened the chain that linked them to Konoha, but no inhabitant within the city limits had the luxury of freedom. It was bad enough that Inoichi succumbed to Ino's fairytales and allowed them to exist for such a long period of time, but Shikamaru supposed that it wasn't Inoichi's fault the situation that sparked Ino's desire for a change. It was Sakura's eternal fault, as it often was when it came to Ino's decisions. Shikamaru was not enticed to allow such twisted delusions on his team, but little say had he on the source of her inspiration. What he knew was that it pushed her forward, and that was all he could ask for. Still, if Sakura ever became a problem...

In all honesty, it seemed rather monotonous -not at all out of the ordinary- for the three of them being together, waiting, the only thing that made it barely newer was their shared lack of knowledge on how the face of their new teacher was.

But Shikamaru could admit that he understood Ino to some extent (some little, very far away extent), she was never too pleased with hanging out with them (him, if he was completely honest), and he wasn't looking forward to hanging out with her either. So the prospect of having another teammate other than Ino it seemed… well, it seemed quite good. But good doesn't automatically translate to profitable, so there.

"Hello, team." The voice came from out of nowhere and Shikamaru gasped, blinking quickly to put himself out of the stupor. He glanced at Chöji out of habit and was relieved to see that he was just as shocked as he was. Ino shrieked and her voice rumbled in his ears like a snake thanks to her high pitched voice that he will forever find maddening. The tall man smirked. He had a beard and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He was looking at them with a smug look on his face, a smug look that Shikamaru didn't quite like because it meant that he enjoyed their reaction, and thus, would sneak up on them again.

"Sorry, it wasn't my intention to scare you." None of them were stupid enough to fall for that but also they were ashamed enough not to call him out on it. "My name is Asuma. Sarutobi Asuma, and I will be your sensei." The man, Asuma, continued.

"You?" Ino was the first one to respond in her own sort of way and, while Shikamaru knew her well enough to know that the question was out of curiosity and not an insult in particular, -although Ino didn't know how to speak without a jab because she was Ino and she was infuriating and such a girly girl- the man in front of them didn't.

"Yeap." He replied, scratching his beard.

That was… well, Shikamaru expected something else. He expected or hoped. Sometimes he couldn't really differentiate between the two.

"Sarutobi?" He blinked, looking at their new teacher up and down, trying to calculate an estimated age for him and therefore… "you mean that-"

"Let's get something out of the way," the man interrupted, calm but steady. "I'm not my father." It was a response as well as a closure, Shikamaru couldn't believe that he of all people would be the one to piss him off. Logically, it shouldn't surprise him either.

None of them were sure how to continue, it was clear by the way silence settled between the three of them after such declaration.

It was an open secret that the three of them would end up together in a team, much to Ino's displeasure, but having the Hokage's son to be the one teaching them what they were supposed to be taught took him by surprise to almost dropping his empty juice box. Shikamaru truly didn't know if it meant that they had high hopes or they were just that desperate. Although to be fair, wasn't the Sarutobi clan the one supposed to prepare them always? Maybe he was reading too much into something that wasn't that deep to begin with. As their teacher said, Sarutobi Asuma wasn't Sarutobi Hiruzen.

But also Sarutobi Asuma was, in fact, the Hokage's son.

"So, uhm…" Asuma scratched the back of his head like a nervous response to their silence, "presentations would be nice."

A pregnant pause, and then... "well, hard to top that one." It was Ino. Of course it was Ino. And just as fast as the tension grew between the newly formed Team 10 as a mist that engulfed them at their leader's statement, it disappeared at Ino's puff of wind. Like that, just like that. An inappropriate response that made everyone nervous for a split second and relaxed in what followed.

Asuma must have not suspected such a response, so he laughed. Hard. The type of laugh that should have made him cough. Chöji giggled because he was so easy to please, but he merely blinked at her.

"Oh, well. Maybe not the best introduction I have given." He chuckled, looking at Ino and taking the cigarette out of his mouth to point at her with it. She furrowed her eyebrows like the gesture was a personal offense against her, but Shikamaru knew by the way Asuma smirked and put the cigarette in his mouth again that he liked her. "You go next."

She smirked and opened her mouth. He stopped listening. He knew them well enough not to pay attention and still reply when a question was asked. He wasn't happy but he will get used to it, to Asuma, to the team, and more importantly, to Ino. He was prepared to get used to things he never wanted but was given, and something told him he will never break that cycle.

But really, after how horrible the day started and how… average it seemed to end, maybe, maybe there was hope.

A/N: Both the Kiri system to send teams to compete in the chünin exams -Kisame's explanation that is-, and Ino's reaction and further interactions with the newly formed Team 10 have no sustenance in canon material and were invented by me (although the Team 10 interaction was inspired by the -filler- anime material) for plot devices.

Another thing to point out, Kisame didn't know canonically about Sasuke's existence until the 146 chapter of the Naruto manga where he meets him. I completely erased that fact from this fiction in order to make the interactions between both Kisame and Itachi more awkward and full of tension, it might be of no importance for some, but is a good thing to clarify.