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“Since he was caught in your Tsukiyomi, I think he's done for..”
“No. In some cases, one can recover even without a strong spirit or advanced medical ninjutsu. “
“Oh? What’s the secret?”
“It’s love.”
A bird’s circling above told the two missing nin they had been summoned by the Leader. They exchanged silent glances and began making their way back to the hideout.
…
“The very meaning of existence is art! You wouldn’t know art if it bit off your dick, nh!” Deidara shouts and flails animatedly at Hidan who drunkenly butted into his argument with Sasori.
“You want to bite off my dick?!” A sly grin grows on Hidan’s face, cheeks rosy. “You’d have to get permission from Kakuzu first… I bet that sick fuck would like to watch.” His eyes shift in the direction of the subject in the opposite corner of the room. Kakuzu is ignoring the shouting and focusing intently on his conversation with Itachi, glass in hand. The group has assembled at headquarters for a night of ‘team-building’ Pein arranged. Appropriately, Pein is the only one missing from the occasion.
“You’re disgusting.” Sasori growls. “It’s not like you could even get it up with all the whiskey in your blood.” The remark triggers Hidan into attempting a sloppy aerial attack. Deidara moves to intercept it, but stumbles over his own feet and lands on his face, too drunk to catch himself in time. Sasori, the only sober one of the three, dodges nimbly. He begins his counter, and he’s sure to use his poisoned weapons.
“Holy shit!” A kunai barely misses Hidan’s head as he staggers to his feet. “Oi, Kakuzu!! I need an assist over here!” Kakuzu pretends not to hear him and continues talking to Itachi, probably about some book they’ve read. Deidara stands and manages to gain enough speed to tackle Hidan back to the ground.
“Goddammit!” He shifts his tone to a smoother plea. “Kisameee! Care to help a guy out here? I’m outnumbered. And these fuckers are crazy!”
“Hidan, you’re interrupting us.” Konan barks back. The two are deep in conversation and sporting a healthy alcohol-fueled blush. Kisame leans back and smiles at the exchange and lets out an amused laugh at the situation Hidan is in. A bead of sweat has formed on his brow.
In his survey of the room, Kisame notices Itachi’s expression has changed for the worse. They’ve been partners long enough for Kisame to know Itachi is over it.
Nights like these remind Kisame of the times he used to share with the other swordsmen and high-level shinobi back home, before things got messy and he became so misplaced. The hostile environment is Kisame’s comfort zone. While he likes the energy of the party, he knows Itachi is much more reserved.
Itachi stands and excuses himself from Kakuzu’s company with a curt nod, bangs falling and obscuring Kisame’s view of slightly rosy cheeks before he turns and walks outside. Kisame could leave him skulking alone, but he doesn’t feel right doing so. I must be getting used to the peace and quiet, that’s all. It’s definitely not concern, he thinks.
“Sorry, Konan, but I’ll have to excuse myself.” His head motions towards the door as he downs the last of his drink, and she nods before taking another sip of hers.
He rises and glances inquisitively at Kakuzu. His reply is a shrug and a head tilt in the direction of the commotion, followed by an eyeroll as Sasori shouts for Hidan to put his clothes back on.
Kisame chuckles and shakes his head as he makes his way to follow Itachi. Once he leaves, Konan and Kakuzu exchange knowing glances.
…
“You didn’t have to follow me.” Itachi says without turning to face Kisame, still walking steadily into the night. The waning moon bounces off his pale features. Radiant, Kisame thinks.
“I know.” Kisame drops his head, looking for words. “I thought I could probably use a break, myself. Any longer and I might have been roped into that brawl.” He resumes his stride towards his partner, closing the gap with ease despite the volume of alcohol he’s consumed.
“Hm. I figured you would’ve enjoyed that sort of thing.” He gives Kisame a glance as he appears beside him, the clack of steps against the pavement rhyming in the cool autumn air. The walk to the sleeping quarters is a short distance across the grounds of the compound, but the silence around the men makes it seem longer.
They descend into the secret passage that leads to the cave-like chamber below. At the opening of the large room, Kisame holds the noren curtain open and lets Itachi pass through first. As he enters the chamber, flames flicker in lanterns around the room, revealing a small commons area and many hallways leading to different members’ separate rooms.
Many members enjoy the commons area, but Itachi avoids it like the plague. He walks silently past the low table scattered with Deidara’s art supplies toward the hall that leads to his room.
“We’ve both had quite a bit to drink, it seems. Maybe it’s best if we get some other fluids in before falling asleep. It’ll make tomorrow easier, Itachi-san.” Itachi stops and turns, considering his words.
“That’s true.” Kisame motions down the hall to his room with a nod of his head.
“I’ll make us some tea.” Itachi turns toward the hall leading to Kisame’s room and resumes walking without a word, following the other man.
…
Kisame’s room isn’t much different than before he occupied it- a futon bed against the wall, small closet, a few cabinets above a counter with a sink, a short table with a heating element he never used, and a small bathroom with just a sink and toilet. The back wall is the natural stone of the cave, and the other three are free-standing partitions for privacy but not structure. His Great Sword Samehada has a resting spot against the earthen wall near the bed, and spare linens and a few Akatsuki cloaks can be seen through the open closet door.
“Please.” Kisame motions towards the kotatsu table for Itachi to take a seat while he sheds his cloak and begins preparing the tea. Itachi kneels slowly towards a grey cushion, feeling the effects of the alcohol on his movements. It isn’t his first time in Kisame’s room, but it isn’t a regular occurrence, either. He smiles lightly when he notices Kisame has his kotatsu so far from any wall he couldn’t plug it in even if he wanted to. On a cool night like tonight, Itachi would have the heating element at least on the low setting. At present, he is too drunk to care.
While waiting for the electric kettle to get hot, Kisame places two glasses of water on the table.
“This is awfully considerate of you, Kisame.” Itachi looks up inquisitively through heavier than usual eyelashes.
“Despite this party of his, Pein said he was sending us on our next mission as soon as tomorrow afternoon.” The alcohol allowed a bit of disdain to seep into his voice as his eyes darted to the side in a half-roll. The slip doesn’t go unnoticed by either man, and Kisame turns back to the cabinets to grab two teacups. He notices his cheeks feel warm, and he sort of likes the way Itachi looks with a little color in his face, too. It’s harder to be intimidated by the Master of Genjutsu when he slurs his words even the tiniest bit, he thinks.
“Perhaps we both overindulged, Itachi-san.” He lets an amused chuckle escape as he carefully pours two cups of tea. He considers making a joke about Itachi being under the legal drinking age but decides against it. As if reading his mind, Itachi replies.
“Old enough to kill and be killed for the sake of one’s village, but not old enough to drink, huh?” He stares emptily at his glass of water before taking a sip. Kisame turns and reveals his grin at the observation. He has always seen humor in such ethical disparities, and he laughs sincerely before he notices how sunken in his partner’s cheeks are at this angle. His smile dampens slightly.
“Fortunately, the law has never been a barrier for either of us, wouldn’t you say?” He rests a teacup in front of Itachi, and their knuckles brush as he pulls back, not accidental but not purposeful either. Itachi’s eyes slowly wander up the arm before him to Kisame’s face, brows knitted in concentration as he focuses on not spilling any of the second teacup with his unsteady hand. Even as he settles into the cushion opposite Itachi, he remains contemplative. “Anyway, you’re never too young to kill or be killed in our line of work.”
“I suppose you’re right.” His gaze goes out of focus in Kisame’s direction, and a dark cloud envelops him.
“Anything enlightening in your conversation with Kakuzu?” Kisame knows it’s best to avoid that dark cloud and, like clockwork, tries to steer the conversation elsewhere. Itachi, reaction time a bit delayed, snaps his gaze back to Kisame and gives him a slow blink that almost makes him shiver.
“Not particularly.” His gaze falls to the side. Kisame can tell he’s recalling moments of the exchange by his expression. He admires the thoughtfulness of his partner with a smile. “He was telling me about the Noh theatre he used to watch as a guard for some nobleman before the wars.”
“Oh? Sounds interesting. That kind of theatre is pretty rare these days, no? Though, I never imagined you’d be fond of the performing arts, Itachi-san.” He sports a spirited smile before taking a sip of tea.
“I’m not, really…” Itachi watches steam roll off the tea in front of him and wraps his hand around the cup, stealing its warmth. “Did you enjoy your talk with Konan? You looked pretty engaged” Kisame’s eyebrows ascend, surprised by the unexpected inquiry. Usually, their conversations are one-sided interrogations until Itachi stops entertaining his partner in chatter. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, not sure what to say.
“It was engaging…” His bottom lip curls up and he rakes a sharp tooth over it. “…but to be honest, it has me feeling a bit at a loss.” He takes the silence as encouragement to continue, though he can’t meet his partner’s piercing eyes. “She was telling me of her personal motivation for this mission, the Akatsuki mission... Hearing people talk about their purpose, that’s always made me feel sort of…” Kisame can’t place the uneasy feeling. “Am I supposed to share that sense of purpose? I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything of the sort.” He scratches the back of his head and then realizes he might be leading his partner back to the dark cloud. His eyes shift up, but even drunk his partner is hard to read.
“Hm.” Itachi reaches to pull fallen bangs from his face as he contemplates his response. Kisame’s stomach tightens with the lengthy pause. On second thought, Kisame thinks, he might be more intimidating drunk. “Did you hear Deidara’s claim before the brawl broke out?” Kisame tries to remember the yelling he was trying so hard to ignore in the moment. “He asserted his meaning for existence was art.”
“His meaning? Does this mean we all have to find different meanings, then?” Kisame can feel the headache growing in the base of his skull already.
“Perhaps… Though, finding meaning or purpose isn’t necessary in order to live.” Itachi coolly sips his tea and watches Kisame over the rim of the cup. He considers the younger man’s words, relieved he seems to be in a good enough mood to play along.
“Art, huh?” He stares at his tea before continuing. “What art do we make, Itachi-san? Surely there is more to this life than comrade-killing…” A beat passes. “Though, perhaps not.” He laughs loudly, but still manages to hear Itachi let out a rare, soft sigh.
“You seek light, Kisame.” His voice booms and, for the first time tonight, there isn’t a hint of slur. Kisame’s respect for Itachi outweighs his annoyance by such an aloof assertion from his younger partner.
“Cryptic as ever, Itachi-san.” A wry smirk appeared on thin, blue lips. “This light you speak of, is it something you’ve already found, then?” Itachi tilts his head to the side a bit, letting the same stray lock fall in front of his view as he contemplates his response. Kisame averts his eyes when he catches himself staring.
“There was a time I saw it…” His gaze is fixed in the distance, staring far beyond the wall. Kisame’s eyes fall to his hands resting upon the table, his fingers dragging along his palms slowly, his heart beating faster every time Itachi divulges more cryptic secrets. This exchange was revealing more than he would ever get with sober Itachi.
Without warning, Itachi rises to kneeling and shifts toward Kisame, closing the distance in one motion. Kisame can feel his warmth as he hovers above him, he can smell the sweet sake on his breath. He grabs Kisame by the shoulders and pulls him into an abrupt, dispassionate kiss.
Afraid of his unpredictable partner, Kisame remains frozen until the desire to return the kiss overpowers his fear. The moment his hand rises to Itachi’s waist and he relaxes a touch, Itachi pulls away.
“The light you seek is the same as the cure for the Tsukiyomi.” Kisame looks down, afraid to meet those infamous red eyes.
“Love, wasn’t it?” Kisame regains his composure in time to quell the shakiness that threatens his voice. Kisame’s eyebrow remains arched and Itachi can’t help but find it attractive. Encouraged by his deepening blush, Kisame continues, “You’ve said so yourself, people like us can’t love.”
“No...” He places a warm hand on Kisame’s shoulder and peers into the depths of his eyes. People like me can’t, Itachi thinks. Though the words don’t come, his expression betrays his façade. The look in his eyes makes Kisame’s heart race and a knot in his stomach tighten.
“Love, huh? I’m surprised to hear that from level-headed you. I didn’t think it was so easy to reverse the effects of your most powerful genjutsu.”
“Granting feelings to other people can have a large influence on them. My Tsukiyomi is spiritual destruction; the spirit can be healed with love.
Kisame’s eyes dance between Itachi’s eyes and still-too-close lips. He’s certain it’s the alcohol, but there’s a warmth growing in his gut that urges him to grab the Uchiha by the arm and lace large, calloused fingers through his flowing bangs as he pulls him into another kiss. This time, Itachi almost crumples into the hold, permitting the entrance of a warm, sake-steeped tongue. Itachi barely manages to stifle a keen moan.
Kisame breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away. “How many times has your spirit been destroyed, Itachi san?” A rough thumb traces his delicate chin, and his eyes shut tightly at the question as he tries to pull away. The feeling of his partner’s porcelain skin encourages Kisame despite the flimsy attempts he makes to evade the touch. If Itachi really wanted free, he would have already done it. Kisame leans forward and holds Itachi’s head in place so that his lips are pressed against a pale ear.
“That’s right,” he says as if remembering. “You’re the one comrade I probably couldn’t kill. Is that what you’re getting at here, Itachi-san?” The younger man fights back a shiver at the low, breathy voice dripping with a newly awakened hunger.
“Yes, Kisame.” Itachi’s hollow gaze falls as he lets himself go limp under Kisame’s grasp. “The light that shone upon me has already faded… but perhaps, I can show you what it feels like to stand in the sun… as your equal.” Itachi pulls back and reveals the Mangekyou Sharingan. At the sight, Kisame’s blood runs cold, and his breath catches in his throat. But instead of being caught in a genjutsu, he feels himself being lured into a deep crimson abyss. In his partners young eyes, Kisame sees and feels more pain and more joy than could be found in ten of his own lifetimes. He stares for an eternity until he feels a sting in his eyes and something cold on his cheek.
“Itachi-san…” There’s no hiding the trembling in his voice this time. “What is this feeling?”
“This is the power of love, Kisame.” A delicate hand wipes the tear from his cheek, and in the ghost of the touch, he places a soft kiss just above Kisame’s gills. “To love and be loved by others, this is one place purpose can be found.” Kisame’s expression is pained, and he places his chin atop Itachi’s head to try and hide his own emotions.
“You really are cruel, Itachi-san,” he murmurs into dark hair.
“You wanted a sense of purpose, no? What I showed you is nothing short of a miracle.”
Kisame chuckles and pulls back to see a soft, tired smile on Itachi’s face. He’s certain it’s the most brilliant thing he’s ever witnessed.
“Let’s get you to bed, Itachi-san.” Kisame tenderly kisses his temple before staggering to his feet, unsteady from alcohol and emotions.