Disclaimer: Naruto is owned by Kishi.
It had been an unusual arrangement for Itachi and Kisame. Historically it was them who got paid to do a task. However for the Frost Village assignment, it had been the other way around. Following the mission directives, the duo crashed the fortnightly meeting among Shimogakure's elders and presented a proposition. For ten thousand ryo, they wanted to get their hands on one of its residents, a civilian nicknamed the Witch of Shimogakure. A handful of the elders were in on the plan. In fact they orchestrated it. But neither him nor Kisame had to lift a finger to scare the rest of them into agreeing with the deal. These village politicians were well-versed with what Akatsuki was capable of. The countless assassination missions that its S-rank nins had completed had rewarded the organization with a rather notorious reputation among the Great Shinobi Countries and its neighboring lands. However even with this taken into consideration, the negotiation went better than expected. Itachi noted with well-kept bitterness that it was still highly likely for the elders to agree with the exchange even with an offer lower than the measly one they had given.
She doubted if he remembered it. But one of his earliest memories was of being a child no older than four. He was facing the glare of the sun with his eyes closed, a small contented smile gracing his little-boy mouth.
"What are you doing, 'tachi-kun?" A woman asked from behind. "You're going to get yourself a sunburn if you keep that up."
"I'm looking at the color red, Kaa-san," was his reply.
"How in the world can you be looking at anything with your eyes closed?"
For Shiori, who was seeing the world through the young boy's eyes, his answer made perfect sense. Because right there, with the sun beating angrily at his thin eyelids, the whole world was nothing but bright red.
She regretted that he had to open his eyes. This time, it was a different memory. The little boy was in Hell, for where else could you find an entire mountain littered with rotting corpses. The few people who remained standing did so with kunais and shurikens at the ready, throwing the deadly weapons at almost anything that moved. She expected him to run the other way, to put as much distance between him and the bloodbath as his short legs could manage. Isn't that what children do after all? To run away from things that scared them? Not this boy, apparently. Shiori whimpered helplessly, trapped within Itachi's body as he scouted the place. He was looking for his father and at the same time looking at the chaos that surrounded him. All the while one question kept echoing in his mind, ringing so loud and clear that it hurt.
Why is this happening?
Itachi stumbled on his feet and by the time he looked up, him and Shiori were back in the Uchiha household, right in the middle of another memory. He was sitting at the backyard facing a large pond. There was a full moon that night. In his arms, swaddled right against his small torso, was an infant with jet black hair and ruddy cheeks. When the little thing began to whimper from a sudden gust of chilly wind, the five-year old whispered, "There, there. Don't cry Sasuke. No matter what happens, your big brother will always protect you."
Unknown to many people including to the very boy he swore his life to, this statement will be a recurring theme in the Uchiha heir's life.
"I'm assuming your captors have explained to you why you're here," the purple-haired woman who introduced herself as Konan said.
Not long ago, a genjutsu-intoxicated Shiori regained consciousness and found herself in a bare and dimly-lit room. Before she had a chance to panic, Konan emerged from one of its dark corners. The disgruntled girl could only stare in awe at the kunoichi's porcelain skin and lithe figure, both of which were elegant enough to conceal a rather strong and ominous aura. Shiori could tell that much.
"...The Akatsuki had bought me from Shimo," she replied. Even then she couldn't bring herself to believe it was true.
"That's right."
Shiori met her heavy-lidded gaze. "But why? I don't know you people! How sure are you that I'm what you want? That I'm worth the amount you paid to the bastards whom you supposedly bought me from?" The angry crescendo in her voice was shot down with one nonchalant reply from the origami master.
"You weren't worth that much to be honest." A small smile graced Konan's lips at the stunned look that Shiori gave her.
"Give it a few weeks and I bet you'll be bending over backwards to prove to us your worth."
"You don't know that!" The younger girl bit back defensively.
"I know enough." Konan crossed the spacious room until she reached the front of a study desk. There she took out a piece of square paper and began folding it on the cool, wooden surface. "What do you know about the Rinha clan?" she asked, not bothering to look up from her artwork. Anger bubbled within Shiori. Despite her neutral face, she could tell that she was mocking her. Konan took her silence as a sign to continue. "The Rinha clan of Kumogakure is a rather small clan which specializes in medical ninjutsu. If my memory serves me right, they were highly sought after during the second and third shinobi wars. Warring villages had been known to race against each other to get their hands on Rinha hostages. Any worthy tactician knows that the kind of medic-nins you have working for your side could determine the outcome of a long-drawn war. It's a matter of who can keep their shinobi alive the longest. Those clansmen were often held at knife-point, coerced into sharing their techniques to the rest of the medical team."
Shiori was stunned. She definitely did not know that. She found her voice after a long pause. "So is that what this is about?" If so then either the geezers of Shimogakure were highly-skilled conmen or the Akatsuki folks were clumsier than she thought.
"Of couse not Shio-chan," Konan replied in exasperation, making the younger girl cringe at the nickname. "You and I both know that you don't have a single nugget of medical ninjutsu know-how inside that pretty head of yours. Now if you let me finish." She put aside the newly-folded paper crane and took out another square of folding paper.
"What many people didn't know is that while medical ninjutsu may be the clan's forte, their ultimate technique is nothing medically-related at all. It's something much more sinister." In the blink of an eye Konan vanished from where she stood by the table. She reappeared right in front of Shiori making her yelp in surprise.
"No, please!" she screamed. Konan had her left forearm in a firm grip. She grew sick with fear when she realized how thin the fabric of her long-sleeved shirt was. Despite her protests, Konan proceeded to remove the glove on her left hand.
"If you touch me-"
"Members of the Rinha clan have a rather peculiar ability, a bloodline limit that allows them to absorb a person's chakra and memories with a single touch. After which they recreate a perfect clone of that person. They say you are your worst enemy. Your relatives certainly believed in that and utilized such a fact to work in their favor."
Shiori pulled away from the kunoichi. If she had been stunned before then she had just about lost her mind now. Not once did she consider that her condition was something she inherited from the father she never knew. How an obscure man from an obscure, near-extinct clan have such a profound effect on her life was beyond her. It didn't seem fair.
"I can't create clones," she blurted out, not knowing what else to say. What else can she say to a stranger who knew more about her than what her mother bothered to tell her? Shiori was lost.
"As expected from a half-baked Rinha bastard such as yourself."
Her right hand flew of its own accord, swiping in front of her towards Konan's cheek. Instead of landing on flesh it tore through thin paper. The kunoichi's face tore in half with a sickening rip.
"What the hell?!" Shiori screamed, back-paddling away from the paper carnage until her back hit against the wall. Konan exploded into thousands of square-shaped paper pieces which drifted steadily in the air, hovering on the empty space to her right. And right before her eyes, the kunoichi's face was reconstructed piece by piece, followed quickly by her entire body. Soon she was solid flesh once again, sitting beside Shiori whose facial expression conveyed a person on the verge of losing it. "If you don't kill me yourself right now, a heart attack will probably get the job done."
Konan continued as though nothing happened.
"Despite that ability being a bloodline limit, it takes practice and guidance to absorb chakra and memories and perform the Spirit Reflection Technique. Unfortunately for you, you have neither. What's more, your ability is constantly turned on for some reason. That's why with every person you touch you end up absorbing their memories and a part of their chakra. And you don't know the first thing about what to do with it all, which is exactly the way Pain-sama wants you to be."
Exactly the way Pain-sama wants you to be.
To say that Shiori felt paranoid was a huge understatement. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare that she couldn't get out of. Somebody's master actually did research on her, her lineage, what she can and cannot do. For years she had prided herself with her ability to stay under the radar, just like what her mother had begged her to do. And yet this obscure organization of dangerous shinobi had pinpointed her so easily. Now she was theirs. No matter how much her pride stopped her from accepting that it was game over for her, a sinking feeling resonated within her bones.
'Still, there has to be a way out of this,' she thought stubbornly.
Konan eyed the hyperventilating girl quietly. Just as she had expected, she was a far cry from the fierce and proud members of the clan that she hailed from. The few Rinhas that she had managed to come across in the past had put up massive fights in situations that had cornered them to near defeat. Shiori seemed to have accepted her fate ever since Itachi and Kisame captured her. She followed where the girl's gaze landed and realized that it was on the door which was held ajar.
'Or maybe not,' she thought to herself. "You can't escape, Shiori-chan."
She had barely finished her sentence when their captive dashed out of the futon and out of the room. She sighed inwardly as the girl's bare foot thudded heavily on the stone floors. Konan took her time in going after her. She wasn't too concerned with her escaping. It was hard enough for seasoned shinobi to escape Akatsuki headquarters alive. To consider a civilian succeeding in such a feat seemed almost laughable. And true enough, she was right.
There was a high-pitched shriek followed by Kisame's rough laughter. Konan rounded to a corner and found that Shiori had bumped into her two captors.
"Going so soon, little one?" Kisame mocked. Itachi looked at her with a rather bored expression on his face. He didn't even bother activating his Sharingan.
"Let me out!" Shiori demanded. She turned back only to find Konan blocking the way. A humanoid form emerged from the stone wall on her right. It had a bi-colored face and a head that was encased with what looked like a flytrap.
"Are you the latest purchase that we've all been hearing about?" the plant-man asked in a soft, effeminate voice.
"Let me out!" she screamed again, gray eyes looking wildly at the people surrounding her. "I beg you! Please!"
"Oh. She doesn't know?" The plant-man asked once again, turning to Konan with a questioning glance. It was Itachi who replied.
"She does, Zetsu. I've told her."
"But I didn't agree to this! Any of this!"
"You don't have a choice."
Something snapped within her upon hearing these words. Shiori glared at the dark-haired man, Itachi. That's what they called him. Compared to the Itachi she saw just minutes ago, the person in front of her was barely recognizable. She thought it was cruel, how circumstances could do something like that to someone who was once so kind, a lifetime ago it seemed.
"I guess..." she trailed off, a rueful smile spreading on her half-sane features. "I guess that makes two of us."
This time, she recognized it when she saw it. People in Itachi's memories called it the Sharingan, the Uchiha clan's ultimate weapon. And if the memories that he had of his past enemies were anything to go by then Shiori was certain of one thing: she was screwed. Again.
The last thing she saw was the color red.
Author's Notes: Some of Itachi's memories are DEFINITELY taken from Naruto Shippuden. Information about the Rinha Clan, their reputation with the use of medical ninjutsu and their kekkei genkai (bloodline limit) are taken from Narutopedia. I want to be as much of a stickler to canon as I could. Oh yeah and my apologies for those who were expecting loads of action by this chapter. I have a feeling this piece is going to be one of those slow ones. Updates might be slow as well because hey, a girl's gotta live...and earn a living while doing it. Anyhoo, lemme know what you guys think if you want. Reviews would be awesome.