Shisui is floating in the waters of the Nakano. It's a warm summer afternoon, lazy and bright. Itachi is laying in the grass, flat on his back, his ANBU mask discarded on the ground beside him. Shisui swims with slow, lazy strokes, his svelte body graceful like a water snake.

"Come in the water, Itachi-chan!" he calls out. Water droplets cling to his lashes. "It's so warm, and nice."

Itachi stands up in a fluid movement, meeting Shisui's warm dark eyes, laughing along, his head thrown back. He walks through the tall reeds, his bare feet sinking into the moist brownish dirt.

"Come on!" Shisui beckons him. "There's something I want to show you!"

Itachi's feet touch the water.

"Here?" he asks, still smiling, warm from the sun, eager to wash the blood that clings to his skin beneath his nails.

"Yes," Shisui says. His voice sounds off, and when Itachi looks at him, his skin is sallow grey, cheeks sunken. "Here," the sound is coming out of his mouth is hollow, and his full lips are brown with rot. His kind warm eyes are empty, and suddenly, those arms that had once been the safest place in the world, grip Itachi's shoulders, and force him under the water.

"Here, where you left me. You lied to me. You failed to protect them."

He wakes up gasping, and part of him is convinced he is still drowning, because everything around him is dark, dark, dark. He runs a hand over his eyes, his fingertips recalling to him the sensation of absence. He is blind now.

He reaches around himself in the bed for his cane, and the edge of his robe, pulling it around his shoulders. He slides out from between the watm nest of blankets and straightens up. His spine pops loudly when he stretches.

The house is completely silent around him, and he can't sense Sasuke's chakra signature anywhere near, nor can he sense the ANBU from the night before, which probably means they were there to watch Sasuke to begin with. Either he's being underestimated – something he has mixed feelings abour, or Tsunade is respecting him enough to give him a semblance of privacy and not treat him like a criminal, considering the fact he never was one to begin with.

He makes his way slowly to the kitchen, realizing that he doesn't know what time it is, but also – that it doesn't really matter. There is no mandatory training, and no impending missions. Nothing but a long stretch of free time, and the threat of Tsunade's wrath if he tries to do anything more strenuous than fluffing his pillows.

He thinks about the things he could do with that time. He will visit the Uchiha shrine, light incense, and pray for their forgiveness, and then he will return to the strenuous task of reviwing all the books from the last few years, to determine how to best go about renovating the compound, and he's sure Koharu has already found paperwork to bury him in for the next fifty years, before he even steps into duty officially as part of the council.

Before all that, he intends on having a simple cup of tea, to help swallow his medication, and then smoke his pipe on the terrace overlooking the garden.

Clearly, fate and the universe have other plans. His body moves on instinct to avoid the kunai, and it embeds itself in the wall right beside his head with a thunk. He sighs. It's going to be one of those mornings then. He suddenly sorely misses the ANBU guard, and his secure ward hospital bed.

He flips the cane in his hand, drawing out the blade inside it, and taking a stance.

"Whoever you are," he says quietly. "I am sure that you think you are stronger than me, and can take me. But I assure you, that you are not."

Uchiha are trained for blindness from childhood. Their power is terrifying, and it comes at a price, and they must always be ready for it. He remembers his father tying a cloth around his eyes, putting the chopsticks in his hand, and then smaking him over the knuckles every time he spilled the food on the way to his mouth, and failed to observe his manners. That had been the beginning. He'd been preparing himself for blindness for years, had felt it coming, had known…

And his attackers… did not know. Did not expect him to be ready. He wasn't so arrogant as to think he would have stood a chance without the element of surprise on his side, but whoever expects a blind man to throw kunai at them, and not miss?

His body still remembers how to kill. He can count three remaining opponents, trying to close in on him an cut him off like this isn't the house he grew up in. Like he hasn't killed in this house before. One of them is light – either a woman or a child still. He weaves the genjutsu without signs then slides effortlessly behind them and slices through their throat. The other two are trying to throw him off with wind and earth styles.

And Sasuke put so much effort into fixing the house, he thinks, sourly.

It's not the longest fight he's had. Possibly, his reputation did some of the work for him. He kneels by one of the corpses. His robe is soaked in blood, and it isn't going to come off. He slides his fingers over the forehead protector.

Oh, Danzo. What have you done?

He wipes his blade on the already ruined robe, and slides it back into the body of his ornate cane. He stands up, and touches the pendant at his chest, more out of habit than anything, thinking a quick prayer to a god he doesn't believe in.

He summons his crows. It would be easier to get rid of the bodies with a fire jutsu, but he needs to keep some of their identifiers, for when he inevitably confronts Tsunade about this. Now that he is blind, the flock is his eyes, and he rewards their usefulness with a feast. Unlike Orochimaru (and he supposes now Sasuke's too) summon, his do not demand payment in human sacrifice, but it is always nice to be polite anyhow.

He pulls the kunai out of the wall, and runs a hand over the mark there. What a mess.

After their fight – after almost dying by Sasuke's hand, and missing it so, so narrowly, he doesn't remember a lot. Sasuke had spoken with Madara, or at least, with the man who claimed ot be him. Had come back for him. Had dragged him to the nearest of Orochimaru's labs. The girl – Karin – had put some of her skills as Orochimaru's top researcher to good use, although biting her hadn't seemed to be enough to stabilize him completely (he still isn't entirely sure how he feels about not even remembering that, although she reassured him repeatedly that it was fine, and she was used to it).

He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for days, and then he'd felt a familiar chakra presence that put him on instant alert.

"How are you still – "

"Don't sweat the small details, Itachi-kun. I can't reveal all my secrets," Orochimaru had said, not unkindly, while running a hand over Itachi's closed eyes. "You want me to give these to Sasuke, is that right? You're stable enough now, that I should be able to run the operation without shocking your system too much."

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I help you now, and then, maybe, in a few years, you will help me in some small way. Besides, I think you and I both know who the real enemy is."

"Dan – "

Orochimaru had hissed sharply. "Yes. The rat. Who better than a snake and a crow to get rid of a rat?"

Itachi had… forgotten how nice it was to have Orochimaru on his side.

"I can take care of your eyes too, you know," Orochimaru had said. "I can grow you a new pair from Sasuke's – "

"No!" the panic had risen unbidden in his throat. "No. I don't want, I don't – don't heal them."

"Very well. Shall I lie to Sasuke-kun then, and tell him I wasn't able to -"

"Please."

Being left alone with Sakura and Naruto felt… Odd. Unpleasant. He had always thought – in those brief moments, when he did think about returning, that it would feel natural. They would simply fall back in line. Why else would they try so hard to bring him back?

But it's been three years, and he isn't the only one who's changed. Sakura and Naruto are talking about places they've been and people they know, and things they've done. Life in Konoha hadn't simply stopped with his absence. They had all moved on – he surmises that all their old classmates have been promoted.

He walks a step behind them silently, and pretends he isn't being glared at by half the village. He wonders if he should talk to Anko about this whole "being Orochimaru's student leads to nation-wide ostracization" but they're circumstances are different enough, he's pretty sure she'll try to claw his new eyeballs out.

"Should we," he begins, and then stops speaking. Even before, it had been like this. For all that they didn't get along, Sakura and Naruto had managed to communicate, to talk to each other. They had tried to draw him in conversation. Now they weren't. "… have lunch as a team?" he finishes lamely.

Naruto stops talking, and Sasuke almost walks square into his broad back. He turns around, his blue eyes wide, and disbelieving. Then he cracks a smile.

"Sure," he says brightly, and the forced cheer in his voice is painful. "Ichiraku ramen! And it's going to be your treat!"

Sakura is looking between the two of them. When before her eyes were full of a blind love and admiration, now there was a wariness there, like she expected him to strike at any minute. Because that's what he had done. Always, he had repayed their kindness with violence. They wouldn't say it of course – they were making a valiant effort. But he read it in their faces.

"Sure," he said, apathetically. "My treat."

Naruto whooped, but it lacked gusto.

He could only relax when the flaps to Ichiraku's stand closed behind them. Teuchi greeted them with a smile, like Konoha's second most notorious traitor and recently reformed missing nin hadn't just come into his shop. Now he was shielded from the palpable dislike in the air, and he could finally appreciate Naruto's love of the place. He'd only been experiencing the collective dislike, and fear of every man, woman and child in the village for a few weeks, and already, he was feeling it get to him. Naruto on the other hand –

Was not living like that anymore, he realized. Naruto was their hero now. Or soon to be one.

Right now though, he was chattering to Ayame, swinging his feet, and grinning broadly. Sakura was perusing the menu curiously, and definitely -yes – avoiding him.

"Maybe," she said slowly, "We should order the ramen to go. And go eat it uh – "

"Probably a good idea, Sakura-chan," Naruto said lightly.

"We can go to my house," Sasuke offered quickly. He was already feeling guilty for leaving Itachi with no message. He could bring him lunch to make up for it. Or something. Guilt was a powerful, and unpleasant emotion, and he was experiencing all kinds of it lately.

Surprise flashed in Naruto's eyes again, but he accepted it in stride, smiling, with a tinge of his usual kindness. "Oh sure! It would be nice to see how Itachi-san is doing!"

Sakura nodded pensievely. "He better not have done anything more strenuous than fluff his pillows today," she murmured threateningly.

She, along with Tsunade, Shizune, and half of the T&I division had been spending the most time with Itachi in the time he'd spent in Konoha's hospital. Orochimaru had done his best to heal Itachi enough to travel, but in his own words, he was a necromancer, not a medic.

Sasuke had let himself into Orochimaru's private chambers as he usually did, without knocking or announcing his presence. Orochimaru had scrolls spread all around him, and was writing things well beyond Sasuke's comprehension of medical ninjutsu, down.

Itachi was curled up in the bed beside him, looking unbearably small. The tight white bandage around his eyes was a stark contrast to his dark hair. Through his eyes, Sasuke recalled the same thing happening many times during Itachi's first years in the Akatsuki, falling asleep beside Orochimaru after a bloody mission.

"He wanted to talk to me, about ensuring you have an undisturbed journey to Konoha, and I slipped him a mild soporific," Orochimaru says by way of explanation. Itachi is, according to him, every medical professional's worst nightmare, in his blatant disregard for his own health and wellbeing.

His sensei looks up at him, his golden eyes glinting.

"Any complaints, Sasuke-kun?"

"I – no. I wanted to – " Words do not fail him often. He had been raised as the next thing Konoha had to royalty. He had manners and politics drilled into him from a young age.

"Yes?" Orochimaru arches a pencil thin eyebrow.

"I wanted to ask you something. About me brother."

"I assure you, that with Tsunade's help, Itachi-kun is looking at a full recovery within the next few months. He may even be able to return to active duty, if he so wishes."

"No, no, that's not - . I mean. Thank you. For healing him. Us. Thank you for healing us."

"It is not like you to thank me, Sasuke-kun. But the sentiment is appreciated. If not about his recovery, what do you want to know?"

"Back in the Akatsuki, when you and Itachi were partners, did you ever – uh – " Oh, if only he could have Naruto's brash disregard for manners, and go out with it. Thankfully, whatever mind-reading jutsu Orochimaru seems to be using all the time around him, to guess his exact thoughts, kicks in, and he just nods, raising his hand to stop Sasuke from speaking.

"I know what you're asking, and the answer is no. Itachi-kun was running a bit too young for my tastes back then, and even so, I had entirely different designs on his body than what you are implying." He rubs his wrist self-consciously, recalling the phantom pain of Itachi's blade slicing into the bone.

"But there was… someone?"

"Yes." Orochimaru says, nodding. "But I don't know who it was, or how long it went on for. In any case, I think this is something you have to ask of Itachi-kun himself, if you are curious."

"I just wanted to know… that he wasn't alone the whole time."

"He wasn't," Orochimaru reassures. "Although, for people like Itachi-kun, alone is a relative term. I suppose you can't understand that. You are very talented, and brilliant, but you are not a prodigy the way Itachi-kun is, and the way I am. For us, often, it's… different."

There is no arrogant inflection in the words, merely a statement of facts.

"I know that, I just – "

"Yes. I understand."

Sasuke nods once. Itachi shifts in the bed beside Orochimaru. The older man rests a hand on his forehead, and shushes him.

Sasuke bows. Quickly, and a little stiffly, and not as low as he normally would, be how bows anyway.

"Thank you, sensei," he says quickly. It's the only time he'd ever called Orochimaru that, and he makes his way out of the room before the other man can reply.

He walks between Sakura and Naruto, his hands laden with the takeout boxes from Ichiraku. They flank him, their expressions politely blank, and their eyes hard. It feels odd, to be the one needing their protection, but he'd had a decent amount of experience getting rotten fruit lobbed at his head in the last few weeks.

When they get back to the compound, it is as still and silent as ever. Itachi has opened the screen door that opens his room towards the garden, letting air and sunshine in. He is wearing one of his spending kimonos – this one is a beautiful pearl white silk, with red cranes painted on, and rimmed with golden thread. His pipe is smouldering on the vanity table. He is putting his still shower-damp hair up, carefully dipping Mikoto's jeweled pins in the vials of poison before sliding them home. A small pot of tea steams beside him. He looks serene, and undisturbed. The house smells like blood, but there is nothing Sasuke can see out of the ordinary. It's still as shiny and clean as the day the contractors were done with the renovations.

Sasuke deliberately makes noise when they get in.

He sets about putting plates on the table, while Naruto eagerly unpacks the ramen boxes.

Itachi walks in slowly, his cane tapping lightly on the floor. He has a small, polite smile on his face.

"Sakura-san, Naruto-kun." he greets, inclining his head. His artificial eyes gleam in the light of day.

"Itachi-san," Sakura smiles brightly. "How's your first day at home been?"

Sasuke is certain that this table is different from the table they had in the kitchen yesterday, and there's definitely one chair less. Was that painting of the Nakano always hanging on that wall?

"It was a very slow one." Itachi reaches a hand, feeling for the back of a chair, and takes a careful seat. "I'm following my doctor's orders," he adds, smiling in her direction.

"Are you only now waking up?" Sasuke asks, though he doesn't mean to sound as accusing as it comes out.

"Yes," Itachi says plainly. "I won't lie and say I'm not enjoying being able to take my time doing things."

"Enjoy it while it lasts. Baachan has a pile of paperwork already waiting for your immediate attention as soon as you get sworn into the council officially," Naruto says. He piles Itachi's plate with food, and nudges it at him.

"Oh, dear," Itachi says, as though being a desk shinobi who smokes his pipe all day and takes three hour long lunch breaks to drink tea and gossip about the active duty jonin hasn't been his life's goal since he was a child.

Sasuke takes a seat at the edge of the table, armed with a knife and a ripe tomato. It feels off, having Itachi sitting there as well, talking to Sakura and Naruto with such ease, making jokes about Hokage paperwork, like he has any right to –

To what? To be here? After everything? To have friends?

In Sasuke's heart there had been no room for forgiveness. There had been no room for friends. Itachi wasn't meant to be flourishing like this, laughing and smiling, and picking at his food deftly, and having casual conversations with Sasuke's friends, insinuating himself into a life that Sasuke should have been able to walk into with the same effortlessness.

He takes a deep breath, and stuffs his mouth with tomato. He isn't Naruto. He's not about to have a tantrum. Itachi saved his life. Had been saving his life. All these years, all this time. The threat of his anger and violence had been Sasuke's insurance.

"So what's your plan for your newly acquired team of unruly genin?" Itachi asked lightly, and Sakura laughed in a way Sasuke had never seen he rlaugh before, throwing her head back, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I am going to have them run D-ranks until they drop," she said, and in that moment, Sasuke felt a malevolent evil from her that he hadn't felt from Orochimaru himself.

"Sakura-chaaaaan, that's mean!" Naruto whined.

"And the Chuunin exam?" Itachi asked, arching an eyebrow.

"We'll sign them for the one in Konoha in two months," Sakura said. "A few people didn't pass the last exam, when it was held in Suna, so we'll sort them out with a third teammate from that crop of students, for the initial portion, and then we'll let them unleash hell and mayhem."

"If they pass," Itachi said lightly.

"If they pass," Sakura acknowledged, giving them both a significant look. Sasuke and Naruto shuddered in unison.

Sasuke was mostly silent while they talked. Itachi was asking about people that he had known – his old ANBU teammates, Sasuke guessed, and the state of current events the way it wasn't just on paper, and entertained conversation with Naruto about Jiraiya – who had been instrumental in corroborating Itachi's statement about his work for Konoha behind the scenes all these years, and their training journey. Sasuke just listened.

Konoha was no longer his village, no longer his home. He'd spent the last three years training, learning. Orochimaru liked to finish his evenings with a cup of sake, and the reports of his spies throughout the elemental nations, and the letters he and Jiraiya passed along like lovesick schoolboys, but Sasuke hadn't wanted to know. He hadn't cared. His life would end with Itachi's death, one way or another.

He had the memories now, of Itachi, sitting outside, with rain drizzling down around him, as his crows brought him news of the village, as his spies reported to him, before he executed them for their treason.

"… and then," Naruto was saying, waving his hands dramatically, even though Itachi couldn't see him, and Sakura loked close to smacking him, "Ero-sennin fell RIGHT into the WATER, and the women all started SCREAMING – "

Itachi laughed. It was a soft huff of laughter, polite and restrained like everything else Itachi did, but it was there.

"Oh speaking of Ero-sennin – " Naruto dug in his pouch, and then reached across the table. Itachi met him halfway, his hand reaching with surprising accuracy to take the book out of Naruto's hand.

"This is the newest Icha Icha," Naruto said, "Still technically unreleased. In Braille."

"Please thank Jiraiya-sama for me," Itachi handles the book delicately, flipping the pages, and running his fingers over them.

"You read that trash?" Sasuke asks, incredulous.

Itachi arches an eyebrow. "I am one of the pre-publication reviewers," he says flatly. "At first it was a way to pass messages along to Jiraiya-sama, but the plot really picks up around the seventh novel in the series, and then Kinoe cheats on Miko, and the love triangle closes, and I ended up becoming quite… invested. I still prefer his more philosophical fiction, though."

"Right."

"You never read them while you were in Oto?" Naruto asks turning to Sasuke. "Doesn't Orochimaru do some of the light editing work?"

"The what?"

"Ero-sennin said he sends copies ahead to creepy sage all the time for critiques and comments, and to… you know, try to convince him to come back to Konoha and all – "

"Oh my god." Sasuke pressed a palm to his forehead.

"You really didn't know?" Sakura asks. "Even Tsunade-shishou knows – she does the medical jargon adaptations."

"Why is everyone somehow involved in the publication of this …"

"Contemproary erotica?" Itachi suggests with a straight face. "Like I said – a good way to pass along information. "And my book reviewer pseudonym is Kuro Karasu."

"Original," Sasuke snorts.

"As if anyone has figured it out yet," Naruto says, laughing.

Sasuke looks between the three of them. Maybe he can do this. He can at least try.

And that painting definitely wasn't hung up on the wall before he left.