Genjutsu

Light filtering through the leaves cast fluttering shadows across the pages. A scroll rolled out between them, a textbook open to her side, she feigned reading in silence.

Itachi mulled over her request.

"It's fine," she repeated, attention still on textbook words, black ink stark against white paper. "I'll be fine." Eyes flickering up then down, her words weren't convincing. He stared at the scroll. "We," I, "won't get very far if we don't do more than read."

They had advanced well beyond what they would foreseeably learn in class. It hadn't taken long to learn the building blocks. Simple things like manipulating one sense at a time, like creating an image layered with reality… They were to more complex, yet, ultimately, more practical techniques. With more innate danger to the target.

Eyes skimming over the scroll again, she understood the silence.

An effective genjutsu tactic outside of creating a distraction was twisting senses and emotions until the target… broke. This scroll, in particular, detailed how to mimic physical distress using memories.

"We…" She trailed off, unable to justify it. "I could use practice breaking free from genjutsu." For as simple as their previous training had been, she lagged. He could shatter her attempts within a blink while she took moments or longer to escape from his.

Fleeting moments could be an eternity when trapped in a genjutsu.

"And if you can't break free?" he finally voiced, Renri unable to meet his eyes. Especially as his voice lowered, softened, "I don't want to hurt you."

She opened and closed her mouth.

He meant that. And she didn't… She pulled at her sleeve. She didn't know how to react to that. She wasn't very practiced at this 'having friends' thing. Not when it was aimed back at her. Especially not when it interfered with practicality. Kindness wasn't given, it was earned, and she had no idea how to process a deviation in that.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, honestly bothered to pressure him, "but, learning this way… It's better if it's you now than being caught off guard later. It's practical."

"I know."

Her lips pressed thin. If he knew then- Because he knew. He could be so frustrating. If he would just say what he meant instead of leading her to the conclusion… Not that she was much better. She said less than half of what she thought and called that honesty.

"I'll be fine," she repeated again, no longer sure who she was telling.

"Then you go first."

Spoken softly but the challenge made her swallow down her frustration. Raising her hand, focusing chakra, breath held, looking up to meet his gaze, dark eyes staring back at her waiting-

She dropped her arm back to her side.

She didn't trust herself to not somehow hurt him. Even if a silly fear, that reluctance… She could see why Shisui had reacted as he had. He knew that Itachi would outpace her in skill. Not only that, he knew that Itachi would let himself act as a guinea pig instead of vice versa.

"You're right," she admitted, playing with the edge of the scroll. Spouting out another weak sorry wouldn't express the fault she found. Mostly in how slow she was to realize the why behind his reluctance. He was nice. So easy to forget that, when it came to training. She really wasn't used to kindness. "This isn't a good way to practice this."

Something else, then…

She idly flipped through the book, occupying her hands to stop from fidgeting with her sleeves. Her nerves were expressed in her hands more so than her expression. Shisui had taught him to observe, to draw conclusions from limited facts, but to remember that the truth may be more complex than the surface let on.

He could tell how nervous this technique made her from how her fingers curled into her sleeves the moment the word memory came into play.

Her eyes flickered up from the book to meet his, slightest twitch in her lips maybe a pout. It wasn't that she was bad at hiding her reactions, he'd come to realize. She just emoted depending on her comfort level. "Do you have any idea how to practice this, then?" Not anger with him, but frustration at not being able to learn something, she snapped the book closed. Wide eyes, she gently set the book aside as if to apologize.

He shook his head. No not quite the full answer, but enough to make her bite at her lip and hum. This was difficult. With her.

Recreating static images and minor sensations didn't require the same fine control more complex techniques would require. Even the scroll rolled out in front of them, something of a middle ground in difficulty, it required delicacy and precision to manipulate the brain into misinterpreting signals as actual distress instead of past experiences masquerading as an illusion. Things could go wrong. One could panic. One could be sent into shock. One could-

With her, she couldn't break free from his genjutsu as easily as he could from hers. Shisui would be able. Reasonably, he should practice this with him.

"Itachi," she began hesitantly, hair falling to hide much of her face, "why are you in such a rush?"

"Rush?"

"I don't know." She frowned, reaching to tuck her hair back behind her ear. She played with the ends, eyes avoiding him, mumbling, "To learn everything. To graduate. You want something, right? You have a goal."

Rush? Had she meant the connotation? She was deliberate with words, careful in her choices outside of moments of being flustered. Thoughtful pauses, stretches of comfortable silence, no need for a running commentary, he enjoyed studying with her. That's why he didn't immediately abandon her when he saw the skill gap.

"You don't have to tell me. I just…"

"I want to be the greatest ninja ever," he repeated, her attention snapping to his face, equal parts interested and confused. She tilted her head, ready to listen. "Great enough that I can erase all fighting from the world."

That was it. His goal summed up into simple words that he sincerely meant. The dream that he had shared on the first day of class only to be laughed at or dismissed as so absurd it would never come true. No one had believed him.

She stared at him, eyes wide as she processed his goal for what it was before smiling. She caught herself, quick to hide it behind her hand. Not disbelief or amusement, but a soft expression. "I… I wish I had a goal like that," she whispered, eyes averted anywhere besides him. Her hand then hid a fading smile.

Acknowledgment, she had told him. Acceptance was probably more accurate. A perfectly modest goal that would have fit the expectations of their classmates and teachers.

It didn't matter if anyone believed him, but… She believed him.

When she dropped her hand away from her face, she poked the edge of the scroll still open between them. "I have an idea how to practice." Fingers tapping a nervous rhythm, "It won't be the same, but the concept should be similar enough." Meeting eyes, her smile finished fading. "Memory," she summed into a deceptively simple answer. "I can recreate one of my memories as a genjutsu used against you. Then, you can aim it back at me. It should be easier for me to break something I'm already familiar with as a past event."

"That…" His eyes skimmed over the scroll again. The suggestion was a good one, yet the premise of the scroll guaranteed it wouldn't be a pleasant memory. Her goal something so modest, he didn't understand what drove her to accept the discomfort and risk, what drove her to be a shinobi when there other, easier, options to reach acceptance. "Are you sure you want to relive it?"

"No worries," she said much too cheerfully. "It was more so physical pain than anything else." Her nervous tapping stopped as she chose to fiddle with her sleeve, tying it back to shift her attention from him. "I, um, doubt that reliving it will be worse than when it happened. Since I know the result. After all," little squeak in her voice, "he wasn't as mad as I thought he'd be."

Now seeming more embarrassed than traumatized, he nodded. It may work. And, if it didn't, he still had control over the situation since he could break it near instantly. He could also decide if he wanted to aim it back at her after her attempt.

As she prepared, he considered what he could have shown her, roles reversed. More so psychological distress than anything else, he would have chosen standing in a battlefield with his father, or the night of the kyuubi rampage, both moments of being surrounded by death and destruction and violence.

All of which he truly wanted to prevent ever happening again.

Fluorescent light reflecting on wet ink, black stark against white, she carefully copied the page from the book. A few more strokes-

A door carelessly opening down the hall, she jolted. Wasn't supposed to be home… Ink splattered on the tabletop. She needed to clean up. Explicitly told not to mess with this without supervision, but just a few more strokes. Footsteps still distant. A few more.

A shaky rushed stroke, ink pooled, ran. Then, a crackle. Smoke. Sparks running the brushstrokes-

Her ears ringing, she pushed herself off the floor, back now to the wall. Heat. Orange bleeding through a haze replaced white light. She coughed when trying to draw in a breath. Smoke burned her throat. Raising a hand to her mouth, wet like ink, blood reflected the light of scattered flames. The pain hit on sight, already shaking breaths devolving to panic.

Through her arm, a wooden splinter. Blood seeped from around the wound to drip down her skin.

The door slamming open-

She cut the memory.

Soft light filtering through the trees now tinged sunset orange, the scroll remained open in front of her. Itachi sat across from her, hands dropped to his side, eyes fixed on her. Heart pounding in her chest, the residual fear settled as reality sunk in.

As did the jealousy burning in her chest.

Her attempt had been… An attempt. Itachi had taken that memory and remade it perfectly, filling in the blanks like he had been there.

She stared at her arm, not willing to look him in the eyes. The variety of faded scars, she saw the set matched to the memory. What she had shared… She was glad she cut the memory before the truly distressing part. Heart fluttering in her chest, beat drumming in her ears, she would have been in tears had he replayed it as a vivid genjutsu illusion.

Splintered wood through her arm, the door slamming open had terrified her more. Tears blurring her vision, choking from hitting the wall with enough force to knock the air from her lungs, she tried to apologize again and again for disobeying and destroying a room. Orochimaru had wordlessly surveyed her handiwork before water smothered the flames. He plucked her hyper-venilating self from the ground to deposit her by the sink in the lab. Sometime after the splinter being pulled from her arm and being left to rinse it, she had the sense to stop crying. Except, while he disinfected and bandaged her arm, she didn't have the sense to not lie about what she had been up to, book not quite ashes.

She hated and cherished that memory.

"That could have killed you," Itachi commented, drawing her reluctant attention. While rather blasé in delivery, lower half of his face hidden by his collar and the tilt of his head, his eyes fixed her in place. "You're downplaying it."

She chose to accept that as a critique towards her technique and attempt lacking impact.

Otherwise, silently, she admitted to herself that things never seemed as bad when she chose not to consider them.

"You're really good at genjutsu." She wouldn't be much help to him, beyond today. It seemed the gap extended further than she had anticipated- and she didn't know whether that was motivating or demoralizing. Would he even want to be her friend anymore? "It's late." Sun low in the sky, she made the excuse while reaching for the scroll. "I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind if you got home early."

She finished tying the scroll closed, eyes flickering up. The pause had been a subtle smile, his thoughts already on spending time with his brother. Mentioned in passing a few times, his expression each time…

"You're a good brother," she whispered, speaking mostly to herself, yet open. They were friends, she reminded herself. That meant sharing. Meeting his eyes, he seemed to understand, but didn't push for confirmation. A bitter smile. "I had three older brothers."

Had hurt to say aloud. To speak it made it real.

She had such a difficult time accepting that Renji was dead. Renta and Renki were asking too much.

She covered a yawn, frowning. She shouldn't be this tired. Not after one exchange. May have overdone her other training this morning… Or from the irregular sleep schedule she had lately.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. A lie, if asked because her expression faltered at the mere mention of family. Itachi had to know that and offered it as another out. She'd take it. Subject change and all. "Teacher warned us that we'd have a difficult group test. Too much training will make me useless in class."

He hummed. Movement, he stood, brushing dirt from his pants. She should have chosen a different place. Her training spot had seating for one if not on the ground. She gathered the scroll and book in her arms. Probably got those dirty too.

"Your teacher likes to stress teamwork." He held out his hand as she moved to stand. She carefully passed him the scroll and book. They were his- not even the library's, his. And now covered in dust.

She stood, working the ties to let her sleeves drape down over her arms. She stared, book and scroll thrust back her direction in a very clear you may borrow these. Heat in her face, she couldn't meet eyes. Fumbling to accept, twitch of a dumb smile on her face, she admitted, "I like it. Even if I know he'll put too much thought into the teams and make it difficult for us to work together." A part of her dreaded tomorrow. No one would be in a particularly good mood, friend groups sure to be divided, rivals forced to work together, and her pawned off onto some poor team. The complaints would be endless.

"It's," she hesitated, rude to ask, "unusual for you train with me for so many days in a row." His expression immediately blanked, gears turning for the 'correct' response. Her tone had been wrong. Redirect. Not his father, didn't talk about family stuff, so, "Shisui-san must be away still?"

"I didn't mean to make it seem like you're a last re-"

"I am." Finality had him closing his mouth, slight tilt of his head flustering her. She seriously hadn't been searching for reassurance. Nope. "I… realize that practical use won't be something I can help you with. Not the way you need. But, um, we can still study other stuff together, right? Because," because she couldn't just shut her mouth, "we're friends?"

The rustle of leaves in a breeze had never sounded so loud.

A blink, and he recovered first. "We are," he said, voice a touch softer as he glanced away, "which is why occasionally helping you isn't a burden."

She must seem like a fish. Opening and closing her mouth, eyes wide, barely resisting the urge to hold her hands up to gesture with her sleeves flapping about. Book and scroll thankfully kept her from that. She really needed to work on stifling her reactions. It took a lot more to embarrass Itachi. He barely reacted.

She shouldn't compare herself to him.

"Shisui's been on a few different missions," he mercifully answered. Instead of ending there, he looked back to her, serious. "Disappearances in the surrounding villages and towns. There," eyes wandering around her secluded training grounds, "have been a few here as well."

She shifted. That was… important information. Mission details and, likely, police business.

Sunset orange taking an ominous edge, "You should be careful after dark."

He had noticed she rarely went 'home.' Not until well after nightfall, unless she had exhausted herself sooner. Even then, she often just lingered somewhere else to read. Habit, now. Home was… unnerving with only her there. Not as bad, now, but Orochimaru usually didn't appear until late into the evening, if at all. Yet she always felt like, if not in her room and alone, she was breaking some rule being anywhere else.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'll keep that in mind."

She couldn't promise more than that.

She should feel a bit more worried. Probably. But she failed, knowledge of the ANBU following her a false comfort.

Usually the same agent. She could sense them, now. Sometimes.

Despite how pleased he looked with the question, Orochimaru had ignored juinjutsu to teach her a sensory technique (and helped with her paper bombs). No matter how confident he seemed that she'd catch onto it, she felt like she was doing a poor job. She'd be a terrible sensor. She could only scan a pitifully small area. Even then, she must be doing something else wrong too because she could sense Orochimaru way better than anyone else.

Yet, the ANBU, having them constantly monitor her would be a waste of time. They had plenty more important things to be doing. Like investigating these disappearances.

If she did happen to disappear while under her ANBU's watch, they could probably use her to figure out what was actually happening...

"Why do people disappear?" Asked to herself, Itachi answered with a little hum. Many reasons. Distantly, her thoughts turned to Renta, wondering how many 'disappearances' one Kiri hunter-nin caused. No one deemed important must have gone missing, in Konoha and out. Civilians, probably. Surely, Konoha shinobi disappearing would be a big deal with an immediate response. "I wonder how many before it was noticed."

"Too many."

A/n:

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