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Chapter Text

Kisame Hoshigaki.

One of the many clansmen erased from history.
The last known wielder of Samehada.
Former rough shinobi of Kirigakure.
A leading force in the great war.
The tailed beast without a tail.
His genetic benefactor.

This was the man who stood before Shizuma - or rather - over him. Beside him?

Blood pooled towards his head both inside and out as he was held upside down by the ankle, droplets leaking from his chest wound and up his throat as he was shaken. As if treating him like an oversized glowstick would get the man his answers any quicker.

"For the last time- It was- an accident. I am not-" Shizuma hissed, kicking out with his free leg in an attempt to knock himself free, "A spy, nor would this be- a very efficient process- to gather information- If. I. Were."

His words were punctuated with harsh yet futile attempts on the man's jaw, his free leg only slowing as the unseen person behind him shifted their hold on his arms the smallest bit upwards - just enough to send a warning.

Shizuma blanched as the man leaned down, stretching his arm so that he could both hold the younger clansmen in place and get entirely too close with those razor-sharp teeth of his.

Shizuma's eyes widened at the proximity only to clench shut a moment later, a horribly childish part of him feeling as though he were about to be eaten whole despite the stubborn clench of his jaw.

"Who said anything about wanting information, hm?" the brief pause the man had taken from shaking him ended, the younger Hoshigaki letting out a sharp gasp as his mouth filled further with blood he was forced to spit out. It dribbled out of his lips and up his nose, hindering his breathing further as the gills on his cheeks began to openly gape - snapping open and closed in a last-ditch effort to breathe. "Perhaps I just wanted to have a bit of fun with the sorely misguided pup that thought himself big enough to go swimming in waters that don't belong to him."

...More than anything, Shizuma wanted to reach around to stop the absolute mess that was being made of his face - the blood suffocated him, leaving him gaping for air with clenched eyes. His headband had long since slid off and onto the floor, doing little to help as the blood crept into his disarrayed hair.

Trying and failing to grasp a single coherent thought as he was manhandled by the shinobi he'd spent a good half his life looking up to in awe and jealousy, he wasn't sure whether he would rather kick a hole through Kisame or press his forehead to the ground in repentance.

However, the longer he was upside down, the more the former seemed likely.

"Kisame," a warning tone sounded off behind him, quieter than the bulky man but holding just as much authority. "If you insist on playing with your food, so be it, but I won't waste my time helping if that's all this is."

The man's second hand came up to grab his throat from behind, a small sigh leaving his lips as he spoke with icy resolve. "I doubt he'll make it back to the base to be interrogated given his current condition. Nor would it be wise to let him go, supposed accident or not. The best course of action as it is would be to put him out of his misery and continue on as we were. I'm sure Sasori will be able to find use in him."

A final rush of adrenalin and clarity came as Shizuma felt the man's almost gentle thumb tracing the back of his throat, clearly considering the merits of simply snapping it and being done with the ordeal. His crystal blue eyes shot open, shoulders pinching together as he used his free foot to try one last time at prying Kisame's hand from his ankle.

"Listen-" he looked up at the taller swordsmen, shoving down the swimming in his head to urge through clenched and bloody teeth, "I can explain everything- you'll want me to explain everything. I have information that can benefit not only you, but the entirety of your organization."

Beady white eyes narrowed at his words, the soothing hand on the back of his throat coming to a still. Taking this as a chance to continue, Shizuma pried the words from the back of his throat, hacking through what little information he trusted himself to keep straight given his current state. "I may not have the complete answer for how I got here, but if I know when here is-" his attempts to sway the two with shiny coaxing words or intriguing promises died out, all his usual poise draining alongside his blood.

"Timetravel, timetravel-!" He all but squealed like a pig brought to slaughter despite his own efforts as he saw the others impatient expression, "I know when you will die- how you will die- who will kill you- who will kill your Akatsuki comrades and destroy Lord Pein's plans."

The hands on his neck and arms lowered slowly as he spoke, and just as he was struggling to find something else that may be of use to the two, he was dumped in a heap head-first. His skull thumped roughly against the wood below, doubles of the bulkier Hoshigaki flooding his vision as he lay on his back. A slimmer, darker form stood beside him, eyes a vivid shade of red casting downwards. It left just as hollow of a feeling in his gut as the large wrapped blade pointed towards his throat in warning.

He focused intently on not giving into the small voice in the back of his head which urged him to lunge for the smaller one and try to weave his way towards the nearby water. To give into the blood pumping in his ears, reminding him that he could lift his hands from either side of his body and have a jutsu ready to tear through the space between them in no time.

No, instead, he focused on the second man in front of him.

Itachi Uchiha.

Former rouge shinobi of Konohagakure.
A hero of the fourth great shinobi war.
Wielder of the mangekyo sharingan.
The Clan Killer of Konohagakure.
His second genetic benefactor.

Between him and the former, Shizuma knew he didn't stand a chance in hell at escaping with his head unsevered if he opted to play uncooperative.

His gills fluttered reflexively with agitation and weariness as he took this fact in, slowly propping himself up on his elbows to keep the blood in his mouth from drowning him out. He eyed the two, repressing a flinch as Kisame dropped down to sit beside him with a toothy grin. Sword still close in hand. "Is that so? Playing with time-space seals, were you boy?"

"More like someone was playing with them around me." Shizuma grimaced grimly, resisting the urge to lash out or recoil as Itachi squatted down beside his partner likewise. He instead focused on keeping his tone steady, unwilling to let waver enter his voice and lead them to doubt his words. "There have been reports lately of shinobi disappearing from one place and appearing in another. Though this is the first I've heard of it being a matter of time versus space."

His fingers gripped into fists below him as he spoke, resisting the urge to sit up fully. He left himself open to attack instead, hoping it would be enough to sway them against any thoughts they may have of him attempting to flee or fight back. After all, he had already tried escaping using tooth and nail. All that was left now was his silver tongue and any sense of pity he might be able to pull from the two missing-nin.

He wasn't exactly about to bet on the latter.

"I see. How coincidental, that it happened to occur to a shinobi of Kirigakure - and one who claims to have the knowledge to be worth keeping alive at that." Itachi spoke from his side, leaning forward and over him to grasp his face with a harsher hold than before. Reflexively, Shizuma's eyes snapped shut, doing all in his power to resist kicking upwards on the man hovering over him. "Not to mention one who seems aware enough to know better than to look into the eyes of an Uchiha, or to try to outswim the Monster of the Mist."

His finger tapped lightly against Shizuma's cheek, as if hurrying him to speak or open his eyes.

This was bullshit, Shizuma couldn't help but think as he bit back the small ball of emotions that welt up in his throat - urging him to either cry out from the pain or at the very least leave his mark on history by chewing one of Itachi's fingers off.

He was better than this. This wasn't him. He wasn't some pathetic little trout that had fallen through time and was now prepared to roll over on his belly at the first sign of death.

But neither was he the bloody fool that would fall on a chef's cutting board and flop to his death, hoping beyond hope to at least smack his cook in the face before his final moments came.

He was in the times before. The times that had only recently begun to seep into his dreams, promising him whispers of bloodshed he controlled and eyes cast up upon him rather than down.

He did not want to die. He wanted to live - to live in an era as glorious as this.

He just had to figure out how.

Slowly, he reached his hand up to the one holding his face, wrapping bloodied fingers around the thin wrist that sat there.

"I do not know why I was the one affected abnormally by these glitches in reality." he gritted out through his aching jaw, resisting the urge to lick his lips as he steadied himself for what was to come.

It wasn't as though he were lying. Not this time. He did not know why it had been him. He did have information he was sure they would find valuable. Hell, he wanted to give them the information, the more he thought about it. If it meant prolonging this era of conflict, maybe, by the time he made it back...things would be better for him as well. Things wouldn't be so unbearably full of those fake lights the Mizukage seemed to love so, so much.

Still. He had to go about this the right way. To convince them at least for now that he was telling the truth and worth not sending to the chopping block.

"However." a shuttered breath escaped his mouth as he tried to keep his words from swimming as his head did. "It being me, combined with the location I wound up in, may in fact be correlated rather than coincidence as you say. I do, after all, share both Hoshigaki and Uchiha clan blood."

The hand on his jaw loosened ever so slightly, and for a moment, cool relief and just a smidge of satisfaction fell over him.

This immediately dispersed as the hand retightened tenfold, leaving a painful ache in his back teeth.

"...So Sasuke will one day take a Hoshigaki wife, then." Itachi's tone was somewhere between calculating and interested, contrasting sharply with the heavy chuckle that sounded off from behind him.

Kisame didn't seem to so much as blink at this, if anything finding the idea to be amusing. "Your brother...with one of my clansmen. What a sight that must be." the man mused, "That hotheaded little Uchiha...with a whole litter of pups to follow him around. Surely he won't miss just one, at least."

"Sasuke Uchiha- he has no litter!" Shizuma's patience was wearing thin the longer he was left to suffer his chest wounds and Itachi's grip, the final wire snapping at Kisame's teasing inquireance. "I am- I was one who received the genetic donation of both Kisame Hoshigaki and Itachi Uchiha. I was created artificially using the combined material of both."

He pointedly did not allow the faint tears of frustration and pain that threatened to build in the corner of his eyes to the surface, swallowing them down alongside the lump in his throat as he felt Itachi's hand remain firm - neither tightening nor loosening as a tense silence filled the dock.

"...And why, exactly, would we go out of our way to create an artificial child we would clearly be unable to raise? What purpose would it serve, to surpass the standard constraints of our sexes and bring a child into the world we both knew we could be leaving at any moment? Do you truly expect me to believe Kisame or I were so vain?"

"No..." Shizuma refused to acknowledge the awkward bubbles of unease the question brought him, the thought of them being more than the great legacy which he had been meant to live up to leaving something uncomfortable in his gut. The idea of him, in another world, being their child rather than the one blessed and saddled with the weight of their blood, only to be deemed unnecessary not long after...it was ridiculous, not to mention childish. "I do not. Surely though, you can believe that Orochimaru would be...that he would be willing to craft a vessel that could be used at his own discretion after failing to succeed in his more straightforward attempts."

He forced his eyes open, fighting back the reflexive urge to look away as he met Itachi's blood-red eyes. "Surely you can believe that he would be interested in trying to create a vessel with the chakra reserves of a Hoshigaki...and the eyes of an Uchiha...can you not?"

The air felt unbearably heavy as his chest rose in and out, the eyes before him turning from two to four to six - perhaps due to the blood loss, perhaps due to the sharingan.

Shizuma couldn't necessarily claim to know how either one of them worked, as it was.

So instead, he focused on trying to keep his heels dug into the ground, reiterating, "Regardless. These facts are the only reason I can gather that this, as you put it, coincidence could have occurred. However. Whether you choose to believe me - or whether it's even true at all - is irrelevant as far as I am concerned. I have the information I spoke of earlier. Should I die here, you will lose it. It is as simple as that. So as you so kindly put it earlier, perhaps you should stop playing with your food and decide whether you're going to gods damned eat it or not."

The wind was knocked out of him as Itachi dropped his face, letting him fall back and onto the floor in one rough movement. Shizuma's hands reached reflexively up to grab hold of his aching jaw, hardly seeming to register the low troubled sigh that came from overtop him as Itachi stood.

"...How arrogant." the remark lacked any real heat, red eyes that Shizuma refused to look into a second time hovering over his crumbled form as it lay losing what had to be the last of his blood on the dock. There was a heavy pounding in Shizuma's ears as he lay there, the feeling only doubling as he heard Itachi's next words. "Gather him and apply pressure to his wound, Kisame. Should he make it back to the base, Sasori should be able to both heal him and confirm whether his claims of being our kin are true. Should it come to it, he's in no condition to try to fight even someone like Deidara or Zetsu."

"Hm, that is true." Kisame's voice came from somewhere overhead, the outlines of the man overlapping as he hovered over him - kneeling with what seemed to be his coat in hand and pressing it to the gaping wound on Shizuma's chest as he spoke with a mixture of calmness and mild interest. "Besides. Lord Pein will wish to see him if any of what he says about the organization holds any truth."

Chapter Text

Shizuma wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, but if the pain coursing through his body with each passing breath was anything to go off of, it had been long enough.

The lights surrounding him were blinding, his eyes peeking open momentarily only to clench shut a mere few seconds later. All up and down his spine he felt pins and needles from laying against whatever it was he had been set on, his chest on fire as he tried to breath through his wounds and stiff joints.

Foggily, his hands shifted, reaching to touch his chest and survey the damage. Something that was ultimately futile as his arm jerked from its spot but never made it to its destination in the end.

He creaked his eyes slowly open a second time, turning his head to the left. The faint, blurry image of his own hands came into view as his eyes adjusted to the light - wrists pinned to the table he had been laid out on. Something to match his legs he supposed, which refused to move no matter how he tried to lift or turn them.

A low, reflexive growl passed his lips as he shifted on the table, the pain in his back far from comfortable.

Crystal blue eyes cast downwards towards his chest, the young Hoshigaki straining his neck in order to at least be able to see whether they’d properly healed him or if he had a hack job to worry about in addition to the ever-growing pile of headaches he’d found himself lording over.

His head thunked back down onto the table with relief as he spotted neat, nearly perfect stitches lining his injury from collar bone to waist. It was better than he probably would have managed on his own, if nothing else.

He lightly rolled his ankles in place, feeling for any sign of breakage on either one but finding none. Nor did he feel any in his mouth as his tongue swiped over his own jagged teeth, the force exerted earlier either healed or not so severe as he had thought in his half-conscious state.

Shizuma shifted once more as he was sure he was in acceptable enough shape, lifting his head to take in the room surrounding.

He frowned deeply as his eyes fell over half a dozen items he didn’t recognize, and half he didn’t recognize but knew the sight of all the same.

An operating cart with far too many small blades sat to his right, thread of a couple different colors not too far away. Little bottles full of fluid he couldn’t comprehend but had enough sense to know smelt terrible a mere few steps away from herbs he couldn’t quite place...

Container after container of this and that, fluids that seemed familiar but he was unable to name surrounding him… it was all quite unsettling, but not nearly as eye-catching as the items lining the far wall of the room.

Or rather, he supposed, the people.

Shizuma watched the too-still figures for a long few seconds, making eye contact with each and every one. His gaze drifting from them and up along the strings that held their forms, the chunky portions leaving it clear that none remained among the living.

He turned his head away and back to the ceiling, swallowing down the lump in his throat that had reappeared. His toes curled slightly at the sight, a thin frown gracing his lips as he lay there.

It was far from his first time seeing a corpse, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

However, seeing them strung up, like animals made into trophies after the slaughter…he wasn’t certain whether he found it disgustingly disrespectful or breathtakingly beautiful. Whether it was simply yet another way someone had discovered to spit on the grave of those that had passed or the ultimate sign of reverence.

Shizuma supposed it didn’t matter all that much at the moment, but even so, the hollow and empty eyes lingered in his mind. Entrancing almost, if not for his own refusal to be so easily distracted. Sharply, he shook his head, ignoring the pain it left in his neck.

He had no intentions of ending up like the puppets on the wall, something he couldn’t help but feel was a distinct possibility between Itachi’s prior words and the sharp objects a mere few paces away.

Whether it was a hate or love letter to the dead, he was far from interested in it for he himself. Not when there was still so much left he could - no, would - do.

This wasn’t his first time being pinned up like a butterfly that simply had to be admired, after all. Even with the near-decade that had passed since then, it simply wasn’t something one forgot…or at least, it wasn’t something he had managed nor wanted to.

After all, if he had lacked that basic instinct to adapt and survive, he would have faded into nothingness long ago.

The steady pitter patter of rain against the single window in the room rang heavily in his ears, head turning once more with narrowed eyes. His gaze lifted up and down along the metal bars that had been placed within them, assuring whatever sorry sap wound up locked away had no chance of escaping through anywhere besides the main door.

Not that he intended to try, of course. He had no intentions of such counterproductive schemes. Not when such a golden opportunity had landed square in his lap.

Slowly, his eyes slipped shut once more.

If he was able to maneuver things in his favor…this odd glitch in reality may very well be the vibrant splash of red he had been looking for to enhance his oh-so-dull life. Already he could feel the ever-hollow hole in his chest closing, the painful few hours he’d been awake in this other time oddly…refreshing, despite it all.

Even as he lay bound with aches lining his body from top to bottom, there was something almost soothing about the violence of it all. The openness with which he had been shaken from side to side, from enemy to ally to prisoner.

It was nothing at all like the time he was used to, the time in which he was sure he would be sat down in a chair for pulling something like this, scolded but served sweet tea nonetheless. Lectured on the importance of respecting the physical land boundaries of different factions and made to promise he’d never again make the same mistake…only to find himself decapitated the moment he bowed his head in apology.

Frankly, though he may have disagreed at the time, he quite preferred being used as a human glow stick.

For as well as he had adapted to the world that was their own - a world of lies, deception, and manipulation he had just recently learned how to play along perfectly to - there was something almost refreshing about the simplicity of knowing only that he was in a fight for survival out on the dock. A short-lived and unfortunately one-sided fight, but a fight none the less.

He let out a low huff of amusement at the thought. It had been quite nice, if not for the underlying weight of it all. Then again. Perhaps that was the after-effects of the blood loss talking.

The soft click of a door, and the long steady creak that came afterwards, pulled him from his thoughts.

Slowly he turned his head to the left, the amusement falling off his face as he reset his expression - keeping his musings to himself and instead allowing a more neutral look to overtake him. His eyes had reopened to see who exactly it was that had made their way back to the room, lips parting slightly in interest as he spotted an only mildly familiar red-head.

He’d spent a lot of time in his childhood researching the powerful men he had come from, as well as their associates. Hoping to understand a fraction of his potential and all he could be through them; however skewed the history books likely were. Though, this had naturally meant he had spent more time looking into Kisame and Itachi than any of the others.

So while he was able to identify the man before him as Sasori of the Red Sand, it had taken a moment. The hanging corpses nearby clicking a bit closer into place as he lay across the operating table - unacknowledged by the entering man even as the two made eye contact.

“...Hello.”

He was almost offended when silence continued to follow the man through the room, though this feeling swiftly faded as after a few moments the man finally did turn back to him.

Lifting his delicate hands only to do what was probably the least gentle action he could have - his fingers twirling around a few pieces of Shizuma’s hair before abruptly pulling upwards.

The four or five curly strands of dark hair were ripped from his head without second thought, a quiet growl of brief pain escaping Shizuma but nothing more as the man turned his back to him once more. Not so much as offering an explanation as he began shifting this and that around on his work bench.

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed at the older man, though he bit down his urge to start a fight. Instead, tucking the annoyance down and away for a time when he might actually have a chance of getting the red-head back for his rudeness.

Honestly, the pre-teen grumbled with just a hint of childishness, had he not been unconscious this whole time? Could no one have snatched his hair then, when he was unable to feel it?

It hadn’t hurt, per se, but it was annoying even so.

He watched as the man shuffled around the room, once more refusing to acknowledge him. Shizuma could feel a familiar itch under his skin that he refused to indulge as he watched him, taking in the sight of faint blue chakra threats weaving every which way. He glared at the man even as he knew he wouldn’t see it with his back turned, a low huff escaping his lips once more as he laid his head flat again.

It wasn’t until another twenty or so minutes had passed that they were joined by another, the large form that was Kisame leaning on the doorway just in time for Sasori to finish whatever it was that he had been doing. Slowly, the smaller of the two men shifted a faintly glowing blue bottle in his hands. Not so much as looking up as he mused with dry humor, “You are indeed the fathers, Kisame Hoshigaki, Itachi Uchiha. ”

Shit. He hadn’t even seen the third man half-obscured by the sheer size of the first.

Then again. It was damn near impossible to see anything from where he lay.

“Get it off my table.” Sasori motioned to him from over his shoulder, Shizuma’s eyes narrowing once more at the puppet master. It? Who did he think he was calling it? If anyone wasn’t worthy of qualifying as a person, it was him!

Quickly, he decided, he did not care for the puppets much at all. For as much potential as they had to be ethereal manifestations of respect for the lives they had lived, Shizuma was beginning to think more and more that maybe the man before them was just an asshole.

He opened his mouth to bite back at the crass wording, willing to let two strikes pass but not three, however, found himself unable to. For as soon as he opened his mouth, Kisame began moving towards him from the doorway, his imposing figure all but shadowing him as the larger man began to untie him limb by limb.

A light huff of amusement leaving the other’s lips as he helped haul the younger Hoshigaki up and onto his feet. His grip a lot more manageable now that he wasn’t using him like a broken slinky. “I see that. C’mon kid, glaring a hole through others isn’t a capability of the sharingan. Itachi has tried enough to know.”

His attempt at humor only ticked Shizuma off more, the pre-teen glancing elsewhere as he was helped onto his feet – mouth clicking shut. Pointedly not giving into the trembling of his legs which told him he had been laying on the table for quite some time.

His shredded shirt which seemed to have been removed in order for his wound to be tended to was shoved into his hands by the bulkier clansmen, the younger accepting it with a snatch.

“What? Suddenly mute? Did we scare you that bad?” Kisame baited, seeming to think verbally poking him with a stick enough would get him…whatever it was he was wanting out of this interaction, as if the state they were in was anything but strange. Shizuma wasn’t a naturally awkward person by any means, but even he could feel the uncertain air that shifted between them as they spoke.

It was difficult to know which angle was best taken advantage of when they had only just met...yet had so many years of history between them even so.

He let out a final huff, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he looked up at the other; neck craning to do so. Taking in the features of the elder clansmen as he frowned thinly. It wasn’t every day that he ran into another Hoshigaki, after all. Not anymore. Still. “…Not at all.” he tsked a bit, earning himself a light chuckle as he felt a hand wrap around his bicep. Not rough by any means, but certainly stopping any ideas he may have had about trying to make a run for it.

“Good. Because we have quite a few answers we’ll be needing out of you, pup.”

Urg. Pup? Really? Shizuma was really starting to get the impression this man wasn’t half as cool as he had once thought…

Chapter Text

Shizuma was led along through a long and winding hallway, his crystal blue eyes darting from one door to another as they moved. Taking in each and every small detail of the unfamiliar place just in case he did end up needing to make an escape.

After all, enamored with the situation or not, he wasn’t a fool. Even if it would be quite interesting to get a grasp on the lives which he had been forced to dig and dig for the smallest bit of information on back in modern day kirigakure - the lives which had first helped him open his eyes to the disgusting world around him - he had no intentions of dying for it.

No amount of gathered inspiration nor confirmation for his plans would do any good if he weren’t around to enact them, as it was. Even if it was beyond fascinating to see the two in the flesh after all those years spent trying to get ahold of the correctly outdated bingo book.

Staring at the worn and ink-smeared pages. Taking in each detail of the two in order to...to simply know. To gather the information he needed, yes. To see what he might never otherwise be able to predict.

To know how tall he might expect to grow or how his face may one day appear, once he had matured enough for it to finally settle as theirs had.

Though now, he couldn’t help but think of how little justice the images did.

The grim expression on Kisame’s page was a polar opposite to the chatty man leading him through the hallways, while Itachi looked a good decade or two older than the soft-cheeked boy he’d seen. His eye bags not much different, however...

It was no wonder his age caused those around him so much confusion, between the two of them. If anything, he supposed he should be grateful he didn’t look worse.

All the while Kisame’s hand remained wrapped around his arm, chittering and chattering about this and that as though he hadn’t shaken just about every drop of blood he had left from his body mere hours ago. Itachi’s gaze boring into the back of his neck in a way he couldn’t quite ignore, a looming presence that dared him to try and make a single unapproved move.

Quite paranoid these two were, Shizuma silently took note even as he played along with the not-so slick probing from his elder clansmen and the frankly unwarrantedly stern gaze sent his way from behind. Nodding and agreeing to this or that but not yet divulging anything more. Not in the middle of the hallway.

He let out a low huff of his own as he heard Kisame continue on with his musings from his side, stopping directly in front of a large wooden door as he seemed to give up on his attempts to warm Shizuma up to the idea of chattering along with him, “Mm, perhaps Sasori was right to be annoyed with our request after all, Itachi. It does seem as though it was an increasingly pointless test to run. The more I watch, the more I am certain that he could be none other than an Uchiha. Such brooding…it’s a perfect reflection of you, wouldn’t you agree?”

He looked over to his partner like he was proud of himself, lips curling up to reveal large, jagged teeth.

Undeterred even as Itachi seemed content to ignore his antics beyond briefly burrowed brows. The elder glancing at Shizuma then back to Kisame, eyes narrowed as if knowing it was pointless to argue but refusing to admit it.

It was mere seconds later than Shizuma felt a frankly painful tug on his cheek, the man’s meaty hand seeming to all but tear the flesh from his face as he mulled, “Then again…it would be quite easy for him to pass for a piglet as well, considering how quick he was to squeal out on the docks.”

His eyes focused and searching as he looked down at Shizuma, though he found only outrage in place of whatever answers it was he was seeking as he walked the thin line between taunting and teasing. The younger Hoshigaki’s pale face tinting a deep blue as he heard his elder clansmen’s words, the gills on his face snapping open right alongside his mouth as he barked back, neck twisting up once more to glare at the other, "I have done no such thing!”

His honor as a shinobi less than renowned, but there even so.

Just who did he think he was!?

The hand holding his cheek lowered as he defended himself from the attack on his person, brows knitted together as he locked furious eyes with Kisame’s searching ones. Foot stomping reflexively to the ground in a show of intimidation – not childish.

Or so he told himself.

His ire only doubled as the same sharp-toothed smile returned, the man instead lifting his hand to set it heavily on Shizuma’s neck. Not so much as holding or squeezing it, simply letting it rest there and watching the natural progression of the smaller Hoshigaki’s shoulders as they hunched upwards a bit.

“That is true, I suppose. All in due time, hm?” Kisame simply continued to tease instead of rebutting this, dropping his other hand from Shizuma’s arm to instead open the door.

Nudging him inside bit by bit even as Shizuma drug his feet.

Paying little mind to the glower the boy sent him as he used the loose hold on his neck to push him lightly forward and onto the bed ahead, the pre-teen nearly tripping in the process but catching himself on the bedframe.

Shizuma watched with a growl as the two continued on in as though nothing were amise, Itachi sliding the door shut behind them as Kisame moved to pull the chair that had priorly sat near a bookcase by the entrance. Plopping down heavily in it while his partner leaned slowly on the door.

The two somehow both managing to give the impression they were looking down at him despite the height advantage standing barely gave Shizuma over the former, their eyes boring into him from their respective spots.

An annoyed feeling itched below his skin as he watched them, hand reflexively held up to nurse his stinging cheek as he frowned at the two. A glowering glare sent their way despite Itachi’s indifference to it and Kisame’s amusement.

A beat of silence passed, and then.

“As much as you are free to stand, I would not recommend it.”

Itachi spoke for the first time since their squabble on the ground, dark eyes narrowing in turn as Shizuma continued to glare. The younger shinobi only slowly backing down after a brief moment of matched gazes, reluctantly crawling further onto the bed and away from the two elder shinobi. Never once turning his back from the two as he sat in the split between what he now realized was actually two full size mattresses pushed together into one huge resting place.

He moved back until his back was to the headboard, one leg angled up to his chest while the other stuck outwards. The angled leg used to prop his chin on as he watched the two with a final low huff – his shirt thrown back on now that Kisame’s arm was out of the way.

His outrage at the elder shinobi’s words faded the longer the three sat locked in a deadlock of silence, the offense he took to being accused of squealing slowly being overtaken with the shameful knowledge that the other wasn’t quite wrong.

It was exactly what he was prepared to do.

But the man didn’t have to make it into such an ordeal! Not when it was precisely what the two of them wanted! Especially when things were far more complicated than the other made them out to be.

It wasn’t as if he were doing it out of sheer fear, no! It was to his benefit as well! To gather information for himself and those depending on him to forge the Kirigakure they all wanted to see reborn! To help set seeds that would be grown by the time he returned!

His silent fuming was cut off after only a moment more, Itachi’s equally matched glare dispersing as the elder’s eyes slipped shut. A long, low sigh escaping the Uchiha as he seemed to decide upon something or another. “We are going to ask you a few select questions on behalf of our leader. Lord Pein, as you have said. Answer truthfully, and you may just manage to make it out with your head intact.”

His eyes slipping back open only once he was finished talking, gaze still intense but at the very least no longer trying to drill a hole through Shizuma’s skull.

The younger shinobi nodded slowly, refocusing himself from Kisame’s taunting and setting his sights straight. Ignoring the elder man for now out of sheer need to keep his temperament in check.

“State your name, age, affiliation, and rank.” Itachi ordered, tone calm and placid with arms held loosely over his chest.

It reminded him a bit too much of that damn Mizukage, the way the elder held himself. Though at least Itachi seemed to have the backbone to serve his threats outright rather than hiding them behind false promises and fake softness.

If nothing else, Shizuma could at least begrudgedly respect both he and Kisame a small bit for that.

“I am Shizuma Hoshigaki, age twelve.” he spoke after only a brief moment, keeping his head resting easily on his knee despite the way Itachi’s brows crawled up his face. As though the man had any room to be calling the age of others into question as he stood there looking closer to thirty than the twenty or twenty one he likely was… “Chuunin of Kirigakure.”

He clicked his tongue lightly with annoyance as the elder shinobi’s face became unreadable once again, keeping his own in check as the next question came. A smile he didn’t quite feel lingering on Shizuma's lips. “I see. Was it there that the warp in time and space occurred? Or were you away in another land?”

Probing for the events which had led to such an odd occurrence, no doubt.

Shizuma easily cut the dance short, uninterested in playing coy and wasting their time. Not when he had a feeling he would end up giving the story up in full over the course of the next few questions.

He would much rather move onto more interesting topics which he could have at least some use for. If it meant giving up a bit of pointless information, he didn’t mind.

Besides, at least if he offered up information it could at least be called a discussion he was partaking in...rather than the interrogation he knew it truly was.

Lightly, he motioned to his chest wound. “I was in Kirigakure at the time. Breaking up a spar which had gone a bit too far among my students. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Even if it had been a spar which had been wonderful to see play out before him…so vibrant and full of life. Kagura’s determination and unrelenting drive lighting up the field before him, interrupted only by the shrill screams of that half-wit friend of his.

Internally, he mourned the thought of his classroom now. No doubt Kagura was a bloody mess, either curled up trembling atop the pool of his own destruction or covered from head to toe in the rest of the class’s and still seeking more. Without him there to stop the boy, he would no doubt be a mess regardless - not to mention the heap of trouble he was likely in with the village without Shizuma there to speak for him.

It was such a shame. He could only hope he wouldn’t blame himself rather than the pathetic waste of a shinobi he had cut down.

Heavens knew the boy had a terrible habit of it.

Blaming himself rather than the pitiful conditions he was forced into. Like a beta fish trapped in a bubble bowl rather than the wonderful tank it deserved…shunned for its aggressive nature yet kept there all the same...

“Your students?” Itachi repeated, “I take it you teach in the academy, then, seeing as you’re only a chuunin.”

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed a bit as he heard the other’s words, but he nodded all the same. Not quite able to get a steady enough read on Itachi to know whether the elder shinobi was mocking him with his trivializing words or simply stating his reasoning.

“Yes. I’m the kenjutsu instructor for the academy.” he couldn’t help it as his own stern expression began to melt a bit at his own words, a thin trail of amusement running through him at the thought of what had transpired. “The boy was trying to cut me through to get to his classmates, hence the bloody mess I appeared in.”

He couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth twisted upwards a bit more sincerely at the memory.

“You could have died by his hand, given the amount of blood you were losing.” Itachi spoke after a brief moment, “Yet you don’t seem very upset nor phased by what he did.”

His dark eyes ever-steady, watching Shizuma with something he couldn’t quite place. The young shinobi only waved his words off however, lifting his head from his knee as he chuckled lightly. “Of course not. While I have no immediate interest in perishing, I would never blame him for it if I were to die. I’m the fool who was too busy admiring his efforts to notice things were passing the point of acceptable.”

Shizuma’s eyes glittered faintly with pride, his neutral smile broadening to an increasingly sincere one as he spoke, “Besides, what sort of teacher would I be if I scorned him for using what I’ve taught him - and so well, at that. His grandfather’s blood runs vibrantly through his veins. It would be a shame if he refused to make use of it and fell into the same trap of mediocrely my other students have.”

Oh, what a grand shinobi he would one day become, Shizuma couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

Utterly unaware as Itachi’s brows drew further and further towards his scalp. Only snapped back to reality as Kisame gave a low chuckle of his own from his seat, the former Kiri-nin leaning forward on his knees - resting an arm on either one as his back curled into a hunch. “Is that so? And just who is this grandfather of his? Anyone we would know?”

Shizuma didn’t have it in him to remain spiteful towards the elder at the moment for his earlier taunting, the younger Hoshigaki tucking his anger away to instead grin back in turn, his lips curving up and into a smug smile as he saw the tooth-filled expression. Even willing to ignore the clear second attempt to warm him up and loosen his lips for the sake of showing off his student. “I would imagine so. Few can claim ignorance of Lord Forth’s existence in even my time, and he’s been gone for many years now.”

“Yagura has a child running around out there?” Kisame blinked lightly in surprise, eyes narrowing a moment later as if trying to decipher a great code. “I don’t recall ever hearing of this. Though, it has been a long while since my last return home.”

“He does.” Shizuma confirmed, shaking his head. “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of him, though. Supposedly the coward went into hiding not long after his father’s death, wanting to ‘hide the shame of his sinful father’ and all that foolishness. Pitiful, really.”

A waste indeed. If only he had stuck around, perhaps Kirigakure wouldn’t have fallen to such a low state of affairs. Perhaps if he hadn’t made such claims about his own father, others wouldn’t have been so quick to fall in line with the idea down the road...

“The shame of his father?” Kisame all but barked out with laughter, drawn away from his pondering at least momentarily. “I don’t believe I’ve had the privilege of hearing such a bold take before. Then again, I don’t know many fools who would risk catching the ire of his ghost either.”

Something in Shizuma’s chest loosened at Kisame’s quick dismissal of the idea, nodding sharply along with the other as he agreed with outrage, “It’s a common belief now, believe it or not! So many are quick to shame him from beyond the grave, including the current Mizukage himself! It is no longer convenient to hide behind him, so they instead discard him just like all the other great shinobi who fell for our village before the great war!”

His gills flapped open and shut as he carried on, quite literally not taking a breath between in his rant and instead relying entirely on them. A look of brief alert flashed in Itachi’s eyes, as well as Kisame’s - one he mistook for equal outrage to his own at the very concept. “They even-”

“The great war?” Itachi cut through his words, a small spark of annoyance flashing in Shizuma’s eyes as the looked over at the elder. “One which will occur between the Fourth Mizukage’s death and your time?”

A bit of Shizuma’s annoyance sizzled away at the serious tone the other took, his own excitement dying down a bit with the realization he had gotten a bit ahead of himself. Right. They still didn’t know about the war and all that was coming…nor all that would come after it.

The boy let out a low sigh, teetering between bored and irritated, “Oh, yes. I suppose I got a bit sidetracked. My apologies.” he shifted his hair out of his face with his hand, using his still propped knee to hold up the arm holding his hair. “In roughly a year or so, a war will begin. It is the war you will both perish during.”

“One might argue.” Itachi’s hands lifted to massage his temple, “That perhaps you should make a point to mention such a monumental event as soon as possible in a discussion such as this.”  

The elder’s brows pinched together, as though sincerely pained by the fact he felt in necessary to clarify such a thing.

Shizuma let out a low huff at Itachi’s expression, supposing he made a point but not quite willing to take all the blame either. “I was told to answer your questions, so I was.”  

He shrugged a bit as he pulled both his knees to his chest, resting his head back atop them as he squinted at the exasperated appearance which fell over the two. “Besides, I don’t imagine it’s a war which will be blind-siding the two of you. It was the Akatsuki which made the first declaration, after all.”  

Even if it hadn’t gone near as smoothly as any of them had likely imagined. 

“…I take it Lord Pein’s plans to use the Biju and spread his manufactured ‘peace’ does not go as well as he currently intends?” Itachi spoke after a long moment, his hand falling from his temple to lay loosely by his side. 

“No. It doesn’t.” Shizuma considered his words carefully as he looked between the two. “Or I suppose it would be more accurate to say it does…under someone else’s hands. It's quite a long story." 

A long story he himself was not looking foreword to relaying.

Chapter Text

By the time he was done recalling the horrible heap of information that was the fourth war, as well as the less detailed understanding he had of Lord Pein’s personal attack on Konoha, the energy in the room had taken a sharp turn down.

Kisame had taken to leaning forward with his sword propped under his chin, pale eyes following Itachi from one end of the room to the other as the dark-haired man paced with his hands behind his back. Expression unreadable even as Kisame bore into him with silent words Shizuma himself couldn’t even begin to decipher.

The younger shinobi kept his legs tucked carefully up against his chest as he watched them, lips pressed down and into a firm frown as he saw the two take the information in less than well.

Then again, Shizuma supposed, he himself would be less than thrilled to hear of his own impending death. Let alone the confirmation that the plans which had taken years of dedication to pull together were set to fail.

“What is the world like now?” Itachi’s question caught him just a bit off guard, dark eyes lifting from their spot drilling into the floor below to stare back at Shizuma. “You mentioned that the allied shinobi forces were born from this war. Does the faction remain? Or did it fall alongside Madara and Obito?”

His mouth opened as if to ask more, though the words never came. His lips resealing in an instant as he awaited Shizuma’s answer.

“It remains.” Shizuma frowned thinly, watching as a small - hardly noticeable - breath left the other. “As for what the world is like now…it’s…”

Shizuma couldn’t help the way his face reflexively scrunched up at the thought of it all. “We would have been better off under the eye of the moon.”

His fingers tightened against the fabric of his pants, eyes narrowing as he thought back to the home which still required so much work to fix. Crystal eyes falling on the center of the bed rather than on either of the two before him.

“If the nations are united, who is left for them to fight?” Itachi frowned in thought, “Has a new faction appeared to replace the chaos the Akatsuki brought forth? Or is there something less obvious going on between the nations below the surface?”

“Something less obvious.” Shizuma nodded, “The nations do not engage in large-scale fighting with each other anymore, but it’s at a cost.”

A cost far greater than any of the village leaders seemed to understand.

“The amount of espionage has steadily increased over the years. Villages send shinobi across their borders with no headband nor village name to back them up. With no intention of retrieving or avenging them should they fall.”

He shook his head, thinking to Ichirota’s retellings of his mother’s own demise at the hands of such a system.

“The value of the standard shinobi’s life has fallen to near nothing. All for the sake of continuing to rake in a steady flow of cash without ‘shaming’ our village by breaking the official peace treaties.”

“They want to be able to claim that we are beyond our bloody past, yet they continue sending shinobi out in this fashion even so. Sending them out to kill and be killed but villainizing their actions all the same when they return home stained.” Shizuma smiled wryly, “They want silent shinobi to do their bidding. Ones which will be willing to take the blame should they be caught by the other villages. It’s a system that is destined to fail. After all, why should one be willing to go to such lengths for a village which treats them like that."

“For the sake of those within the village who cannot fight.” Itachi frowned deeply, Shizuma’s eyes lifting up to meet his for the first time in a long while. There was a horribly sharp softness within them that the other refused to elaborate on no matter how Shizuma waited, the younger shinobi’s gills clipping open and closed in annoyance at the other’s words.

As if they made any sense coming from someone like Itachi Uchiha. The famed clan killer…the one who had caused countless needless deaths…yet saved so many alongside the very brother he had damned in life, if the stories rang true…

“How ridiculous.” Shizuma settled on after a long moment, lowering his head back down to his knees to semi-hide behind them. His own eyes just as sharp as Itachi’s as he forced himself to keep steady with their gaze. “The only people served in a structure like that are the higher-ups and their spoiled brats.”

Ire and disgust dripped from his words like venom, the younger shinobi’s lips curling into a condescending smile as he looked at the elder. Almost unwilling to believe the other was serious. Surely, of all the people out there, a missing-nin should be able to understand.

Had it not been for the fact he’d just finally managed to claw himself up to a position that would serve him and his allies well, he would have become one himself long ago.

“The peace they claim has overtaken the shinobi villages is nothing but fake. Lord Sixth sits on his throne with all his favorite little pets and their children, sending them out on honorable voyages and diplomatic missions. Meanwhile everyone else - the shinobi with actual skill and reputation - are sent one after another to do all the dirty jobs. They’re left to work themselves to the bone until the day comes where they perish, leaving their children to either starve to death as street urchins or take up the same damned fate as their parents!”

Just how close had Kagura been to that very fate? Had Lord Sixth not decided he would make a good lap dog…the boy would have died starving on the street just like the dozens of others Shizuma had seen in his own youth.

...No, he supposed.

That wasn’t the case.

Lord Sixth would never allow such a dirty sight to taint the village’s newfound purity. He would have been shoo’d off the streets and off to the slums of the village long before that could have ever happened.

“So no, as sweet and lovely as the concept may sound, I don’t believe ‘protecting those who cannot protect themselves’ is enough to stop what is coming nor warrant all the misfortune which has fallen over the lower class. Nor will it ever be.” Shizuma couldn't help the sneer which fell across his face, “Lord Sixth and the other Kage may have gotten away with it so far, but it’s only a matter of time before that which they seem so determined to ignore catches up to them. We shinobi of the villages won’t be treated as worthless for their sake and their sake alone – and as unfortunate as it may be that others will be caught in the crossfire – at least they had a cover to hide under for a time. Some were not so lucky.”

Some of them had been born different from the start.

Too strong, too skilled, too scary to play the part of a perfect lap dog.

Too mauled and dirty from the reputations of those before them.

Some of them had never had the chance to prove their worth to the higher ups...discarded for the sheer fact their abilities no longer served the purpose they wanted, no differently from the kekki genkai hunts held mere decades ago in the last swordsmen’s reign.

Some of them had only managed to get as high up as they had by twisting and pulling the strings of the village underbelly into place while the higher ups weren’t looking – and Shizuma didn’t think there was anything wrong with that.

If he had to burn Kirigakure to the ground and rebuild it as a place they could be proud to call home, as a place which could understand and use their worth rather than damn it out of fear, he would.

For his sake and the sake of every other soul that had suffered unwillingly at the hands of Kirigakure’s false peace...

For those whose spirits had been disrespected time and time again both before and after the war...

Used in life and spit on in death.

It was bullshit.

How could the man before him not understand that? Surely, Kisame must, at the very least?

...Yet when he looked to the elder Hoshigaki, he saw no such thing.

Kisame’s eyes remained steadily on Itachi even now, his head turned as his jaw rested upon either of the hands.

Hands which crossed easily over his swords hilt, limp and uninterested as he kept his attention on his partner.

Horribly silent in a sharp contrast to the way he had priorly been chattering on all throughout the morning as he seemed to wait for Itachi’s que…uninterested in anything Shizuma had to say, or at the very least, awaiting Itachi’s judgement before passing any of his own.

It was infuriating, even next to the ghostly stare of Itachi. To see two of the greatest shinobi in history act so…so very unlike anything he could have imagined, left a worst pit in his stomach than he could have imagined.

The stories had said Itachi was a horribly confusing individual. One which acted without care for how those around him perceived his actions...simply following along his own nonsensical path without question. A bizarre puzzle of a god, one which could behave with inexplicable benevolence or unbelievable cruelty at the mere flip of a coin.

Then there was Kisame, who many had claimed to be little more than a bloodthirsty madman with the strangest set of justice and honor. Oddly similar to his partner, yet beyond different in every manner of execution.

Shizuma had known the stories likely had some falsehoods lined within them…yet to hear Itachi preach of protecting the innocent. To feel his gentle grip on his neck as he considered breaking it in mercy. To see his kindness mingle with ruthlessness so seamlessly…it both lined up perfectly and not at all with the image he had priorly imagined…

What sort of lunatic murdered his own family only to agree with the foolishly soft sentiment of giving up one’s life for others who would never appreciate it?

What sort of Monster of the Mist sat patiently by, watching his partner with such a look? As though the other’s words held all the weight in the world to him. Mere hours after such a show of brutality...and moments after such pleasantness...if that was the word to describe it at all.

Shizuma didn’t understand either of them. Not in the least.

“…There is still much work to be done within the villages for them to reach an ideal state. That much is true, I am sure.” Itachi spoke after a long moment, though his eyes betrayed any hint of agreement his words may have given Shizuma. “However…”

Itachi shook his head, as if deciding against his words. Something in his gaze reminding Shizuma all too much of the diplomates in the land of water he’d met over the years, those who were too new to their operation to understand Shizuma’s competency.

That look which told Shizuma in an instant that he was being regarded as child rather than the shinobi he was.

“What?” his own eyes narrowed in turn, sharp teeth gritting together as he saw the other turn his back fully to him and towards the door. Hand lingering against the knob as he shook his head once more, prepared to leave without a word.

Kisame lifted himself up from his chair as if to follow, doubling the younger shinobi’s agitation

“What is it you were going to say?” Shizuma bit out his question once more, keeping the original unpleasantness from his voice and instead doing his part to keep his tone level - even through grit teeth. Attempting to coax the other into finishing whatever it was he had been prepared to say in rebut.

He was not a child. They could have a civilized conversation about the best way to handle the situation. He could aid in stopping the village’s from losing their senses of grace and honor in the years coming. Why was it that the elder found it to be so difficult?

Shizuma almost reflexively reached out to take hold of Itachi’s arm - gently, of course! Just enough to give him pause - but found a familiar set of meaty blue hands in his way.

He felt as Kisame’s palm made light contact with his forehead the moment he lifted his arm, enough to knock him back from his spot leaning forward and back onto his elbows but not quite enough to hurt. Shizuma swiped outwards at the elder Hoshigaki on reflex, brows furrowing as he scowled at the other.

Utterly unimpressed by the amused grin which had once more made it’s way back to the other’s face.

“…What Itachi means to say is, that is a matter for another time. For now, we have more than enough to report to Lord Pein and begin shifting through.” the expression on his face giving Shizuma the sneaking suspicion he was neither lying nor sharing Itachi’s thoughts in full… “You should rest as we tend to such boresome matters.”

The warmth and pleasantness in Kisame’s voice did little to hide the lack of suggestion behind his words.

Chapter Text

They left.

Itachi opened the door.
Walked out it.
Kisame followed him.
Shut the door.

And they, fucking left!

Locking the door behind him, like he was some sort of child!

As though he was stupid enough to wander out and into the halls where a dozen S-Rank ciminals lay, one of which already seemed to have it out for him!

What sort of fool did they take him for?

Shizuma sat up from his spot in one swift movement, setting his palms against the bedsheet on either side of his now disarrayed legs. Glaring a hole through the door the two had left out of and letting a low huff of annoyance pass his lips.

Really, how obnoxious!

Interrogating him…having him go back through the series of events time and time again for clarity…only to act so condescending in the end! Had he had his sword…he would not have stood for such…!

His sword.

Shizuma ran his hands over his face, flopping unceremoniously back on the bed.

He had no sword. His armor had disappeared somewhere between being stabbed and having his wounds treated. His pants felt painfully empty, the more he paid attention.

Shizuma lowered his hands from his face to his pockets, patting through them but finding nothing. Just as he had thought.

Either he had dropped his things in the present day…out at the docks during the scuffle…or…one of those bastards had raided his pockets while he was unconscious.

His bingo books. His pocket money. His apartment keys. Even that silly little gaming device he had confiscated from Tsurushi. All gone.

Great. Just wonderful. How fantastic, really!

A low, irritable chuckle left Shizuma’s lifts as he rose once more from the bed - lifting his hands up to run his fingers through his hair and push it back out of his face.

Honestly, he had been quite patient today. If the universe would be so inclined, now would be the time to give him a single brief break…

An actual break, he amended quickly. Not the damn daycare nap the elder shinobi seemed to believe they were leaving him to.

Sore stitches and exhausted from all the chakra it had taken to heal or not, he had no intentions of doing any such thing.

He would not set a precedent which led the two to believe he was so easily ordered around.

He had lost enough face thus far.

As it was, he turned his body from the center of the bed to its side - tossing his legs over the edge and setting himself on the ground.

Idly he smoothed over the wrinkles in his clothes, glancing around the room.

Not intending to try to make a run for it despite the steadily increasing stack of slights he’d been delivered over the course of the day.

Even as the idea became more and more appealing by the moment…it was not efficient; he had to remind himself.

He was in the Akatsuki base - surrounded by some of the most skilled shinobi of all times. Offering them information that they otherwise would have never known. If he played his cards right…and could manage not to let their condescension get any further on his nerves…there was plenty to be gained.

He could sow the seeds which would be fully blossomed by the time he returned to his own time…he could use the organization to make it back there, more likely than not…and finally, he was certain he could pick up a thing or two from the group while in the process of it all.

He just had to get them to the point where they would take him a bit more seriously first. Starting with those two…

Shizuma tangled his fingers further into his hair, pulling somewhat painfully at his scalp at the thought.

He had been…wound up, that was all. He had allowed them to wind him up. It was a slight error on his part…but nothing impossible to fix.

He just had to show them exactly how competent he was. He had done it before in the land of water with men senior to even those two - once he had a moment to properly prepare himself and plan, he was certain it would be a simple matter.

All he had to do was keep his head level. An easy matter, really.

Shizuma’s hands fell from his hair and down to his lap, eyes which had at some point slipped shut reopening to the room around him with this renewed sense of focus.

It was quite plain, really.

White walls…dark wood floors…two identical chests bumped together at the foot of the conjoined beds…

Hands clasped behind his back, Shizuma began to slowly circle the small room. Leaning down to poke through the bookshelf near the door with a slight squint.

History books…studies of the mind…narratives…?

A basket of scrolls lined up neatly on the lower portion of the shelf.

Shizuma glanced briefly between the locked door and the scrolls, pausing only momentarily before plopping down on the ground between the basket and the bed.

He had admittedly slipped up a bit by allowing himself to speak so hastily and with such temper so early into their meeting. An error quite unlike him…but one he had made all the same.

He had been so sure the two would understand.

Though, he supposed, not many did even in his own time.

Perhaps some more…hands-on research was in order. Results which came directly from them rather than from second-hand accounts and states which had reason to begrudge them.

Results which might save him from their bad sides yet, ones which might persuade them to look past his slip up and allow him a second attempt at first impressions…

Shizuma leaned back on one of the chests behind him, lifting the basket into his lap while keeping an ear out for any passing footsteps.

His fingers moved carefully across the scrolls, shifting them from side to side until he found the most recent.

Hm.

He drug his fingers along the edge of the scroll, feeling Kisame’s chakra coating it from end to center then back around a good few times. It was a bit overkill for a scroll that was already being kept in the safety of his room, Shizuma mused.

Paranoid indeed.

He sat it back down, moving onto the next. Then the next. Then the next…until it was no longer quite as funny.

Really, to have all of their scrolls so tightly wrapped in seal after seal. It only made him all the more curious about the contents. The base they were rolled out on led him to believe they were either mission scrolls or jutsu…most likely the former, considering who it was that owned them.

No doubt they would be known by now if they were jutsu. Which meant he was holding either the reports of missions past or those to come. What a shame it was. If he could open them without leaving a mark, it would surely give him quite a bit of insight into whomever it belonged to.

Shizuma huffed slightly, putting the scrolls back as he attempted to poke at the last one’s edge without success.

Irritating, but unsurprising he supposed as he lifted the heavy basket back onto the bottom shelf of the bookcase – careful to set it back down exactly where he had gotten it.

All that left was the chests near the edge of the bed, then.

Though he doubted he would have much more luck there either, if they had gone through the effort of sealing each and every scroll…

Still. He turned, slipping his fingers under the latch of the one closest with a bored glance.

It was precisely three seconds later that he felt a small burst of heat run through his fingers, the young Hoshigaki hissing and pulling away from the latch with a low hiss, “Shit!”

He could feel a small prick of tears in the corner of his eyes as he bolted away from the chest, glaring holes through it all the while. His poor just barely burnt fingers shifting through the air as he quickly shook his hand.

Fucking paranoid they were indeed!

Shizuma stood from his spot squatting down on the floor, rubbing his hands to the side of his shirt with a low grumble.

If he looked below the bed next, should he expect it to summon twenty hounds to feast upon his very soul!?

At this point, Shizuma wasn’t certain it was out of the realm of possibilities.

The young shinobi held his charred fingers against his lips, biting briefly on his nails as he glanced from the bed to the door.

Motherfuckers.

Surely it had been at least an hour since they left? Just how long did they intend to leave him to rest? What were they intending to do once they were done giving their report to Lord Pein? Would they return to the room? Or attend to other matters first?

Shizuma quite disliked the idea of them arriving to him asleep.

No matter how lacking in malice they may have been so far, he would not ignore the fact they had already gotten just about everything they needed out of him…and likely had a poor taste in their mouths regarding him to-boot considering how horribly he seemed to have rubbed them over the latter half of their conversation.

When they returned, would they come with more questions? Or an execution order?

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to spill, quite literally, everything.

Shizuma lowered his hand, curling his fingers below his sleeve and channeling his chakra downwards to heal the small injury. Grimacing a bit and sitting down on the foot of the bed at the sheer amount of energy even such a small amount of chakra seemed to take.

He stared blankly at the large wood door, doing his best to not let the strain of the day wash over him no matter how it seemed to want to. He needed to stay alert, chakra exhaustion be damned.

…His best bet was probably to simply apologize and attempt to start over, should they give him the chance. No matter how true his words were and how strong his urge was to toss a boot through the two’s condescending faces. He was at the very least able to admit he had gotten a bit ahead of himself.

His now healed fingers reached up slowly to run over his face and through his hair once more - the young shinobi leaning forward to groan into his hands as he leaned against the wood bedframe.

He had been far too excitable. Yet how he hated to apologize sincerely…necessity aside.

Shizuma lifted his head only as he heard footsteps approaching. Brows furrowing with weariness at the speed of them and the distant shouting which soon followed.

A high-pitched, frankly painful, voice sounded off from beyond the door. “But Dei-da-ra! Tobi wants to see! Tobi wants to see the baby!” the voice whined, a cluster of messy claps following soon after which had Shizuma all but leaping up despite his lack of energy.

His eyes narrowed as the doorknob began to jingle, moving swiftly to slide in the small gap between the bookcase and wall.

Shizuma’s hands pressed to the side of it in preparation as he heard a second, less pleased voice storm through the halls. “Tobi is going to be eating his own damn intestines if he doesn’t get away from that fucking door! Right! Now!” the poor excuse of a whisper resounding through the halls.

He kept his hands steady on the bookshelf, holed up in the corner and prepared to turn the damn lunatic into a pancake if he did manage to enter. Eyes darting through the room but finding a disappointing lack of weapons to use.

Worst come to worst, he could probably manage a substitution jutsu.

Or, less eloquently, he supposed there was a chair that would work plenty fine.

“Owww! Deidara, Deidara! ‘Tachi and ‘Same left a trap! Oh, a trap that bites! Look!” the low whine resounded twice as loudly as the jingling stopped, Shizuma hiding further behind the bookcase with a heavy scowl at the voice. This was the man that had fooled the Akatsuki and would one day help summon Madara?

How ridiculous, he mourned in annoyance, pressing his forehead to the cool wood of the bookcase as he listened to their squabble. Considering briefly whether the man already knew of the information he had relayed and meant to unnerve him with his appearance…as well as whether or not it was working.

“Yeah, messing with Kisame and the bastard’s shit tends to have that affect, un! So use some common sense and cut it out!” a heavy boom which was just as loud as the other’s voice sounded through the hallway, followed by dead silence.

It lasted for a long moment before the second voice continued, a low grumble filling the halls as well as what seemed to be…dragging of some sort…? “Put me on babysitting duty…could have been anyone else, but no, I gotta be the one stuck-”

His voice steadily dulled as he seemed to move further and further away, the commotion going just as swiftly as it had come.

Shizuma dared a glance over the edge of the bookshelf, letting out a low huff as he saw the door thankfully still intact.

Not a sentiment he had thought he would have prior to five minutes ago, but one he held even so.

Just what the hell had the other meant by bit, though? Was the doorknob trapped with the same seal as the chests?

Shizuma glanced down at his no-longer-burnt fingers with a low frown.

So, so, very, paranoid.

Though he supposed they at least had a reason it seemed.

Chapter Text

A long few minutes passed before Shizuma emerged fully from behind the bookcase, the young shinobi waiting until he was certain the coast was clear to make his way back into the center of the room.

He wiggled the doorknob once to make sure it was still in place before plopping back down on the edge of the bed - regarding the door with narrowed eyes once more as his fingers drummed against the wood frame and his knees drew close to his chest yet again.

He wasn’t certain whether he would prefer the two hurry up and return already or stay away for as long as possible.

On one hand, he was terribly tired.

On the other, he rather chew glass than let them get a jump on him in the event their currently soured impressions of each other and his lack of further use proved to be enough to justify his end.

Not that he really thought he could take them if it did come to that, but still. He would at least rather go down fighting compared to the shit-show that had been the docks.

Slowly, he leaned down to set his chin against his knees. Allowing his eyes to slip shut as he considered his options - resting them but being certain not to fall asleep.

Rolling different scenarios over in his mind as he sat in the too-quiet room. Trying to find the best angle to work with which would leave him in a better spot without wounding his own pride any further. He wasn’t sure he could take much more…if Buntan could see him now he was certain she’d never allow him to live it down.

His head slipped downwards from its spot on his knees to lay against the still filthy fabric of his pants. The mud from his brief attempt at a fight prior to being captured by now dried enough there was no risk of it getting in his bangs, at the very least.

There was still time to rectify this all, he reminded himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d dug himself into a hole. He just have to lay low while simultaneously keeping his head high enough to be noticed. His specialty, all things considered.

He just had to stay. Focused. Stay. On. Point.

No matter how his chest continued to ache with each breath. No matter how tired he grew with each passing moment.

…No matter how tempting it was to remain curled into himself among the whispers. No matter how the hand tracing carefully from the top of his spine to the bottom then back up once more attempted to convince him otherwise…the feather-light fingers simultaneously drawing the pain and exhaustion from his body while somehow managing to leave an ache in his spine which was twice as unbearable in its place…

Wait.
Whispers?
Hands?

Shizuma’s eyes cracked open, though he remained perfectly still in his spot. Doing his best to keep his shoulders from tensing up and focusing in on the conversation behind him - the young shinobi silently kicking himself for his own failure to follow through on something as simple as remaining awake.

Buntan would be right to point and laugh at him right about now.

“…it’s most likely recessive from my side. My cousin had the same, though his was much shorter.” the hand that had been lingering along his back reached up to shift loosely through his hair, Shizuma biting down on his tongue as the threads brushed lightly against his throat - a small burst of dust escaping with the other’s motion. “As for the eyes…I imagine it’s quite obvious which half of the gene pool that came from.”

A low chuckle sounded from somewhere else behind Shizuma, Kisame’s voice drawling on with amusement, “I suppose so. Though I can’t claim to know where his ability to sleep so heavily came from.”

The hand that had been shaking the dust from the lower half of his hair rose as the other - Itachi, he acknowledged despite the awkward gnawing feeling in his stomach which appeared at the very idea - moved to instead lightly drum his fingers against his scalp. The touch a good bit firmer than it had been on either his back or hair, but unpainful even so. “…I couldn’t begin to guess. Though, it’s not exactly an unwelcome skill considering the theatrics of the other organization members.”

Shizuma felt the faint agitating drumming on his head grow heavier and heavier as the elder continued on, “…Even if it does have the disadvantage of allowing his meal to cool beyond the point of being appetizing.”

Shizuma wasn’t sure whether it was a call on his bluff or not, but took it as one regardless.

He reached up, lightly swatting Itachi’s hand from his head and using his own palm to guard his scalp. A scowl lingering on his face despite the knowledge that there was no way for either of them to see it. “…I’m awake, I’m awake.”

His scowl furthered as he heard an idle hum from behind him, Itachi’s unimpressed voice making a low noise of understanding as his hand was shooed away. “Clearly.”

A heavy beat of silence passed between the three, Shizuma’s feet curling against the bedframe he was perched on. Eyes narrowed as his hand retangled into his own hair, gaze darting from one side of the half-empty room to the other as if hoping to find the best course of action somewhere within it.

Did he turn around? Face the two and whatever consensus they had decided upon? Listen as they continued to pick apart the pieces of him, or finally grew bored of the game they’d made out of essentially poking him with a stick?

Did he try to deliver his apology directly for whatever nerve it was he had hit before, or simply start to work with trying to crawl his way under their skin? Were they the type to be swayed by words, or actions…

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go if he ever met them! They were supposed to be on his side, damn it.

“…Uchiha-brooding-no-jutsu…” Kisame spoke with all the seriousness in the world from behind him, Shizuma turning slightly to glare over his shoulder at the man’s poor timing and taste in jokes. His expression only doubling as the man’s brows lifted, his toothy grin not at all matching his tone as he amended, “…Uchiha-glare-no-jutsu…?”

His own glower not quite enough to stop the elder man’s teasing, but Itachi’s apparently being sufficient for the moment.

Kisame let out a low, amused sigh as he held his hands up in surrender, dropping them only to push the plate which had been sitting on the bed towards him. “Ah, apologies. Give me the mercy of a truce this once, yes?”

The pleasant hint in his eyes telling Shizuma he very much was not sorry, though the younger Hoshigaki nodded all the same. Unwilling to ignore the opportunity to amend his assumptions without making a scene when he saw one.

For as little as making a scene would usually bother him, even he could acknowledge that he had made quite enough today. It was beginning to wear him out, not to mention hardly giving him an inch of the results it usually did. “…Yes, yes, truce for a truce and all that grandness.” he agreed, taking the plate and using the leverage of his spot perching on the bed to hop down onto the chair below.

He hadn’t quite noticed just how much dirt he had tracked all around their room before now; and as wound up as he was, he wasn’t a complete dick. If able, he rather not risk dropping food on the already filthy sheets to top it all off. Especially if he was trying to amend the awkward air that had fallen over the room.

Between their throwing him around like a ragdoll and his own apparent misjudgment of their stances in the sticky subject that was war, there wasn’t much more awkwardness the damn room could take.

Slowly Shizuma began to pick through the bland rice and chicken he was offered, doing his best not to let the impatience brewing in his gut out as the silence stretched on and on.

Neither Kisame nor Itachi seemed interested in giving him any sort of signal as for whether this was a true peace offering or final meal type deal, and it was driving him up the wall. He glanced over to the two, gaze flickering between their forms which sat on opposite sides of the bed, precisely once.

The unreadable expression on Itachi’s face and thoroughly amused one on Kisame’s stopped him from doing it again, the younger shinobi unsure of which one was more daunting as he drug out the ordeal that was dinner.

Or, well, his dinner. Neither Kisame nor Itachi had any plate to speak of as they sat. Just watching, like a shark circling its prey or a cat tugging lazily at the mouse it had caught’s tail. Had he had even an inch less self-restraint, he would have likely taken them back to stage one once again by demanding they say something. Anything.

It was only once his food was finished that the barrier broke.

Kisame reached over to take the plate and silverware from him, Shizuma’s hands falling to his lap immediately afterwards. The boy keeping a sharp eye on the elder as he took the plate only to set it down between him and Itachi on the bed - either unaware or unacknowledging of the fact as Shizuma scooted the chair back further immediately after leaning forward to hand over the plate.

He considered, the longer the silence stretched, just how much merit his plan of lingering had - as well as whether it was too late to try to claw his way out of the mess before him.

“We have relayed your words to Lord Pein.” Itachi finally broke through the silence as Kisame retrieved the plate. Dark eyes glancing down at it then back to him. “The organization will take this newfound information into consideration with its plans and, for your cooperation, will allow you to live on.”

The tight bundle of nerves Shizuma would never admit to feeling unfurrowed in an instant, even as he nodded with what he hoped was an equally closed off expression. “…You have my gratitude.” he muttered, opening his mouth to ask how exactly they intended to use the information but thinking better of it. For once clicking his mouth shut just in time.

He probably shouldn’t push it, no matter how he itched to know. For as useful as the information would be, it would hardly matter if he only wound up goading them into changing their mind about letting him keep his head.

“I would think so.” Itachi spoke blandly, though there seemed to be the faintest hint of something else in his eyes as his gaze shifted over to and away from Shizuma a good two times before speaking. Almost as though he himself were as uneasy about the whole ordeal as Shizuma was.

Quickly, he discarded the thought. As if such feelings would ever manage to get a grip on someone like Itachi Uchiha. Shizuma could almost laugh at the very idea, if not for the sheer weight of the atmosphere surrounding.

“I wouldn’t imagine you’ve yet managed to come up with a solution to the strange phenomenon which brought you here, hm?” Kisame’s quite out of place voice cut through the thick air, his smile doing much the same as Shizuma merely shook his head. Not exactly trusting himself not to say something he would end up regretting in the long run at the moment. “Nor that you have somewhere specific you intend to wander to, all things considered?”

Shizuma couldn’t help but be rubbed the wrong way as the elder Hoshigaki spoke so eagerly. On the edge of whatever it was he was saying but refusing to elaborate. Was this how his students felt when he got to teasing them...? Regardless, his pleasantness unhelpful at the moment. “…No. I suppose I don’t yet.” he glanced elsewhere, crossing his arms as he did his best to mimic their unrevealing expressions.

Perhaps unable to intimidate as they did, but at the very least needing to manage resisting theirs. After all. As carefully as he was walking on eggshells currently to rectify whatever sore spot his talk of the upcoming war seemed to hit, his prior point still stood. He rather not set the precedent any further in the pitiful direction he had thus far.

It was incredibly hard when Kisame was either completely forgetting or choosing to ignore the awkward spout he and Itachi had gotten into earlier. Bulldozing ahead like the damn powerhouse he was.

At least something Shizuma had thought to be true about the two had turned out right.

“I suppose you’ll just have to stay here, then, until you’ve managed to get your affairs in order.”

Shizuma watched the elder Hoshigaki with furrowed brows, fairly certain that had he had a tail, it would be wagging. If anything more like a dog than the shark he saw before him…

It was quite the unnerving expression to see on a grown man regardless.

“Is that so? And why, exactly, is that?” Shizuma’s legs reflexively pulled up from the ground and to his chest so he was squatting on the chair, regarding the man with perhaps a tad more suspicion than was strictly necessary.

It was true he had been intending to try and squirm his way into the organization before he was given the boot. If not for the sheer odds which told him someone in the group would have a way to help him get back if properly convinced, for his own curiosity. Or the treasure trove of jutsu just sitting around begging to be mimicked in this time…

Yet for Kisame to so bluntly suggest he stay, no convincing or coercing required. It seemed a bit too good to be true.

“Paranoid, aren’t you?” Kisame chuckled lowly, practically begging to be hit in the face with one of the books sitting lined up behind Shizuma. The younger only crossed his arms however, returning to glaring over the edge of his knees. Like he was one to talk. “Perhaps I’ve simply realized with the possible coming of my death I have no apprentice to carry on my legacy once the day finally does come.”

Something in the way he said it told Shizuma this was very much not a concern of the man. “Or.” Kisame grinned, “Perhaps I’m merely fulfilling my instinct as a paternal being in the animal kingdom.”

Unaffected even as Itachi rolled his eyes, a long sigh leaving the man’s lips precisely in turn with Shizuma’s own grimace. Not caring at all for the proud and pleased expression on Kisame’s face as he made such a declaration.

“As honored as I’d be to take such a position, I’m afraid the animal kingdom isn’t terribly well known for its positive paternal patterns.” Shizuma huffed, refusing to acknowledge the dust of blue creeping up his throat and across his face at the implications of the other’s words.

He was a damn work of art, no doubt. A half finished canvas practically begging to be finished. That much was a mere fact he’d come to realize over the years. With chakra reserves fit for any ANBU, speed which would put the standard shinobi out of order in a matter of moments, and eyes which would one day evolve into something great…

Shizuma had much to condemn Orochimaru for, but choosing the two before him to be the sources of his genetic code was not one of them.

Still. Surely Kisame couldn’t blame him for his reluctancy to take the offer quite seriously, considering the sheer about of teasing he’d been subjected to thus far. He was half waiting for the other to laugh in his face and admit to his jesting, though as time went on Shizuma began to doubt it was actually coming.

“Touché! In many beasts, that is the case.” Kisame chuckled through sharp teeth – his deep rumbling laughter leaving something almost soft in it's wake. “…However, exceptions aside, that much isn’t so typical for humans and their offspring.”

Shizuma would beg to differ, but considering how steeply the conversation was sliding in his favour, he didn’t. Even as the thought of someone as beastly as the two before him accepting him as theirs mere hours after meeting him left an odd taste in his mouth. One which told him there must be something further going on below the surface despite the man’s quite convincing expression.

He was only artificial, after all.

A war machine bred to wreak havoc on the world around him - a mere puppet which Orochimaru had never had a chance to use. Someone who was not meant to have a destiny of his own, but found one all the same. It was something that had taken him a long time to accept and stop sitting around crying like a damn brat about, but it was something he had managed all the same. It was something he had actually began to find pride in, in recent years...

While Buntan, true and pure to her core, sat out there now. Unacknowledged and discarded by her own father; the man who she would one day grow to look up to so, so very much yet would never manage to get the attention of despite it all. Berated time and time again by that wretched old lady of hers. Betrayed by the very same woman who had brought her into this world of theirs.

...Yet the bizarre duo before him would look past the quite valid array of excuses they had to toss him directly out of the village and never once look back. 

It was quite unfair.

“And the catch?” Shizuma couldn’t help but ask despite his attempts not to land on another of the two’s nerves, keeping his voice level even as he did all in his power not to give into his own lesser instincts. Stuck between calling bullshit at the absurdity of the offer and all but bouncing out of his chair like a damn fool at the idea of being allowed to learn from THE monster of the mist...hardly stopping himself from doing either.

As a middle ground, he allowed his feet to thump quietly against the wood of his seat, peering over at Kisame with a careful glance. Watching him carefully for any sign of deception.

“There are a few.” Itachi nodded to the side, Shizuma’s gaze shifting over and locking onto him at once. The other still had that same look on his face as before, the one which told Shizuma there was more to their offer than they were saying. The elder Uchiha looked almost ashamed, as unfitting as it was.

Shizuma’s feet stopped their steady, quiet thumping, the curly-haired pre-teen regarding Itachi carefully. Keeping his excitement pulled back as to not accidentally pounce on the man once more - careful to brace himself for whatever it was the two would ask of him in turn for something so great as becoming a student of Kisame’s. “Which would be?”

Itachi let out a small breath, watching him with dark eyes for a split second before allowing them to close. “So impatient…” he sighed, unaware as Shizuma glowered from behind his knees at the scolding.

He was trying, damn it!

“There are a few matters which will align with the arrangement.” Itachi spoke after a long moment, the man opening only one of his eyes to send a warning glare to Kisame as the man covered his laugh with a cough from beside him.

Waiting until Kisame had rectified his laughter with a knowing look that neither seemed interested in clueing Shizuma in on… “The first of which, being your exact place here.”

Ah. Shizuma tried not to roll his eyes.

His place. The one area he was so, so, well known for staying, he mused to himself with no shortage of sarcasm.

“You will be Kisame and I’s student as well as our…ward, under this agreement.” he reiterated, Shizuma blinking a bit to himself at the other’s words. Hm?

So he would be Itachi’s student as well, then? As grand as the prospect was, he hadn’t gotten the impression the man was so interested in the arrangement as his partner was. If anything, the reading Shizuma had gathered from him thus far was that this was more-so a pet project he was allowing his partner to indulge in than anything else…

Shizuma wouldn’t complain, but it was quite frustrating to be able to sense that this was probably the most open he would manage to see the man at…yet still he couldn’t begin to understand what was going on in his head.

He had private reservations about being considered family by the clan killer of Konoha, but that was not a matter he intended to bring up.

Shizuma may be impulsive at times, but he wasn’t stupid.

As such, he merely nodded along, listening as Itachi continued, “Lord Pein has agreed to let you keep residence with us as a reward for your cooperation, however, he expects it should continue should any further questions arise. As well as for you to generally abide by his word as well as ours.”

“Yes, yes. Don’t be an unreasonable dibshit, understood.” Shizuma nodded easily, undeterred by Itachi’s almost mourning expression even as he seemed to watch Shizuma just a bit too long for the younger’s liking.

Really, what a look!

“…Yes, I suppose that sufficiently sums it up. Behave for Kisame and I, train hard to master the Hoshigaki and Uchiha techniques, and steer clear of Akatsuki business unless otherwise instructed.” Itachi paused only momentarily before adding, “As well as refraining from sharing your secrets of the future with others as much as is possible, given the circumstances.”

Shizuma was still failing to see the catch to it all, outside of the small voice in the back of his head which tittered in horrible annoyance at once more being regarded as a child. Though, he supposed, that was nothing that couldn’t be rectified in time. Once he had more solid footing with the two, it should be a simple matter of proving himself. Something that should prove quite easy, given he would be training under them.

“Mhm. Understood.” Shizuma nodded, unaware as his feet returned to thumping quietly against the chair below.

His crystal blue eyes matched Itachi’s dark ones for perhaps longer than was wise, nodding along as the elder continued, “We ask also that you realize the inherent danger of accepting our proposition. You will have to tag along with us during our mission travels…as well as traverse the place that is the Akatsuki.”

He inturrupted Shizuma before the younger could agree, “You may seem pleased now, but do not look past these things so easily. It will be weeks of walking and camping. Much tiresome training. Kakuzu will tear your heart out if he deems you annoying. Hidan will try to bring you to his god…Deidara will try to paint the base with your flesh. Sasori will seek a new puppet should you lower your guard and neither Lord Pein nor Konan will accept the faintest scent of betrayal. Not to mention the thousands of shinobi interested in the price on our head and willing to do anything to get it. Think before you act on this.”

Itachi’s fingers rose up to drum once against his temple as he spoke, head tilted to the side as his eyes slipped shut with a look which would better fit a forty year old man than a twenty-year-old one…looking almost condemned even as he continued to make the offer. “You may have the night to consider it.” he cut Shizuma off a second time, easily ignoring the small huff of annoyance it caused and noting, “As a matter a fact, we will not be accepting your answer until tomorrow morning regardless of when you make your decision.”

Shizuma watched as the elder stood, looking down at Shizuma with that same, unreadable expression. “I’ll show you to the washroom, and then we will rest for the night. Agreed?”

“…Agreed.” Shizuma nodded after a brief moment, standing as Itachi moved past him without a second glace and following him towards the door.

It would be quite nice to get some of this grim off before getting into all that, he supposed despite his sulking at being so thoroughly spoken over.

Chapter Text

Shizuma made quick work of showering once they made it to the bathroom, staring at the bottom of the door from within the shower with an unimpressed glance all the while. Itachi’s shadow remained outside all throughout, unshifting in his position.

Really, did he look that inadept to the man? Did he honestly think Shizuma would manage to perish between the bathroom and the short hallway connecting it to the bedroom?

Shizuma let out a low huff at the very thought, crossing his arms and leaning his head back as he rinsed his hair. Careful not to let any water drip down and onto his stitches as he stood.

After all, screwing up his already treated injuries was probably not the most efficient way to prove his point.

It was already going to be hard enough to keep it clean, considering the sheer lack of body wash in the room. Nor shampoo and conditioner, as a matter a fact. He probably should have asked about that before getting in.

As well as whether he was meant to wear the same clothes he had beforehand. Surely that couldn’t be good for his wounds either...not to mention he was fairly certain it would ruin whatever blankets he slept with...

He turned the shower off before stepping out, at the very least managing to find a towel below the sink to dry and cover up with. He rolled the frankly massive towel around himself a good three times before leaning back against the wall beside the door with furrowed brows.

Kisame’s towel, if he had to guess.

Shizuma paused for only a moment, glancing between the pile of dirty clothes crumbled on the floor and the door beside him. Narrowing his eyes at the shadow as he considered his options.

He supposed the likelihood of his question pissing off Itachi was relatively low. It was if nothing else better than climbing back into his frankly wrenched smelling clothes again.

Really, he hadn’t noticed how foul they smelt until now. Between his morning routine, training the students, fighting out on the dock, and smell of death which seemed to have followed him from Sasori’s lab. He was almost surprised the two had managed such a conversation before tossing him in the shower.

“...I-”

What the hell did he call him?

Master Itachi? Lord Itachi? Father? Sir? Itachi?

Shizuma wasn’t quite sure.

He used some of the towel’s spare fabric, lifting it up to semi-hide his face as his gills flipped open and closed rapidly.

It would have been so much easier if they had just offered to make him their apprentice. Why they insisted on adding the sub-clause of son while such an obvious out was available, he couldn’t quite understand.

How utterly embarrassing on all three fronts.

Shizuma shook his head from behind the towel, taking a breath and allowing it to filter out through his gills before calling with his best attempt at certainty. “Itachi sir? Am I to wear the same clothes or...?”

He was met only with silence at first, the younger shinobi scowling at the door for reply until finally the other spoke, “...Wait.”

Saying no more as his shadow silently disappeared from outside the door, only to appear back a few moments later.

Shizuma quickly shifted away from beside the door to behind it as Itachi cracked it open just a hint, a single hand passing the border of the room to dangle a set of clothes within. “Wear these for now. We’ll find something more permanent later.”

The door shut immediately as Shizuma took the offered clothes, looking through them briefly as he nodded on reflex, “Thank you.”

He didn’t bother looking to the door as Itachi continued from outside, “...Also, there’s no need to call Kisame or I so formally. Our names are more than sufficient.”

Utterly unaware as Shizuma pouted a bit at his own mis-guess.

Really, shouldn’t someone like Itachi or Kisame have more pride than that?

“...Understood.” he agreed despite his own reservations, holding up the offered outfit with a low frown.

It was a bit big, but not as terrible as it could be. At least they had the foresight to lend him one of Itachi’s outfits by the looks of it rather than Kisame’s. He was certain the former would have been borderline unwearable...

Shizuma shook his head at the ridiculous image, throwing the navy blue shirt over his head and slipping into the rest of the clothes quickly. There was no hairbrush in the bathroom, so he settled on trying to smooth down his wild curls as best he could with his hand for now.

A low noise of annoyance left his lips as that same piece on his left continued to pop up from his bangs, refusing to cooperate no matter how he smoothed it down.

He clicked his tongue idly in agitation before abandoning the endeavor, reaching for his headband which had been passed in alongside Itachi's spare clothes - but pausing.

Right. It probably wasn’t wise to wear that anymore, considering the company he intended to keep. It would be quite unfortunate if he caused further issues down the line by implicating that Kirigakure was personally allied with the group.

And as much as the little voice in the back of his head whispered for him to try it anyway, to see and hope that it would somehow manage to ward off the false peace which had overtaken Kiri. He knew better than to be so naive. With his luck, it would only end in their clan being shoved further down the latter or make things all the worse for the lower class he was meant to help rise once again...

Besides. As much as he admired the Kirigakure of this time...it was not the Kiri he had graduated from, no matter how he might wish otherwise. And as much as he was certain he could if given the chance, he hadn’t. He didn’t...have the right, just yet, to claim himself worthy of a village like that.

Perhaps one day, but not today, he decided as he wrapped his headband up in his wad of dirty clothes. Giving himself one last glance in the mirror before making his way out of the bathroom to reconvene with Itachi.

Itachi, who gave him one mere glance before turning on his heel to continue leading him back towards the room, not a single word passing from his lips all the while.

It made it quite difficult to tell whether the man was irritated or merely the quiet type. Perhaps a bit of both? Shizuma kept his distance regardless, other than the brief few times they passed another in the hallway.

If nothing else, he didn’t imagine the man would stand by and let him have his heart ripped out. Or he at least hoped so, as naive as that may be...

“Each member of the organization is given a room when they join, for their time between missions.” Itachi finally spoke as they made it to the room once more, “Should you agree to stay, Kisame and I are currently sharing my room regardless. We’ll empty out our spare for you to use and replace the bed that has since been moved. But for now, this will have to suffice.”

His words leaving little room for argument, though Shizuma would never provide any either way. As if he would wish to share a room with the two for longer than strictly necessary.

He was curious about the two, but not that curious.

“I see.” he hummed along idly instead, following the other in as he acknowledged his words. Tossing his clothes on the floor in the direction Itachi pointed to.

That also answered the question of where the rest of their things were. He had thought it odd that they could fit all their belongings in chests as small as those.

“That one’s yours.” Kisame pointed over his shoulder at one of the beds, the two having been shoved to opposite sides of the room. “The things you were carrying are over there as well.”

“Many thanks.” Shizuma let out a small exhausted breath, making his way over to the bed and glancing over his things. Not particularly needing most of them but...assured, he supposed, by the fact he hadn’t either dropped them in the present or had his things straight up stolen by one of the three that had held access to his unconscious form.

They would be good to have, if he did manage to make it back to his time. Assuming of course too much hadn’t passed and that he would still have an apartment to need keys to.

How exactly did it all work, he wondered to himself – well aware that the chances of either of the other two having an answer were supremely low.

Ideally, he would go back to the moment he left once he made it back. He hated to think of the mess that would be involved if he had to return in equal parts for the time he stayed...

“Quite an interesting mix you have there, for someone in the middle of teaching his class.” Kisame continued on from behind him as Shizuma slipped the bingo books in one pocket and his cash in the other. His keys and Tsurushi’s little toy tossed under the pillow for now. It wasn’t as if he’d be needing them anytime soon, after all. “I take it you had other plans for your evening?”

His words not wrong, per se, but a piss poor attempt at small-talk even so. Shizuma sat on his bed, glancing over at the other as Itachi seemed occupied digging through his death-trap of a chest. “...I suppose so, though I would argue this beats sitting at home waiting for tomorrow to arrive.”

He had also been needing to write back to the land of water concerning some business, though he rather not bring up that particular issue at the moment.

Kisame was watching like he didn’t quite believe him, and for a split second, he wondered if the other considered the omission of details to be a lie. Shizuma had never thought so, though he also rather not go stepping on anymore hidden minefields and disrupt the hold he’d finally managed to grasp on the situation.

He opened his mouth to add some sort of half-truth, though the man beat him to it. His amused eyes clashing a bit with the patience in his voice, as if daring him to stick to his lie.

Though, it seemed the two had very different ideas of what he had been intending to do once he got off work.

Shizuma blinked a bit as Kisame asked, “Oh? You had three different bingo books, a thick wad of cash, and a tech device of some sort because you intended to relax at home once you were off?”

Itachi’s slight sigh as the chest thumped close and he rose was not lost to Shizuma, nor his quiet warning of, “Kisame...”

The two clearly having very, very different ideas about what he had intended to do after work, with only one willing to let his nosiness get the better of him.

Shizuma couldn’t help but laugh at the intensity with which Kisame watched him, covering his mouth with his fist to try and ward off the admittedly inappropriate response to being baited by the monster of the mist. “I wasn’t going out nin-hunting, if that’s what you mean.”

Just trying to imagine a world in which the three items would have been near enough to go slipping past the border and stealing the hunting-nin's work from under their noses. Though he supposed it wasn’t that outlandish, considering he likely had no idea the ‘tech’ he spoke of was a mere toy and the ‘wad of cash’ he mentioned would have just barely covered his lunch and dinner.

He shoved his laughter down deep into his stomach as he shook his head, glancing over at the elder Hoshigaki. Refusing to let a second rush slip past his lips as he saw the expression on the other’s face.

What a rare opportunity it must be, for one to be able to catch of glimpse of one of The Seven so outwardly caught off guard. His laughter perhaps a bit cruel considering the fact he had no way to know how outlandish his statement had been.

Shizuma let the last bit of his amusement linger on his lips, but nothing beyond that as he spoke.

“My bingo books are beyond out of date, that cash was intended for my lunch then dinner, and that ‘tech’ is merely a children’s toy I took from one of my students that had been attempting to play it through my lesson.” he shook his head, “I’m afraid I would have been sorely unprepared had I intended to go nin-hunting with those.”

Itachi’s brows had begun to crawl up his face with each word, by the end looking just as doubtful as Kisame. “...You say that as though it doesn’t open an entirely new box of questions without answers.”

His brows furrowed in focus, sitting beside Kisame with his coat finally discarded.

Somewhere along the line, they both had done so, though Shizuma wasn’t sure when...

“Such as?” Shizuma asked instead of letting his mind wander with the small detail, watching the two across from him with furrowed brows of his own. What more was there to it?

“Well for one.” Kisame seemed to break free from whatever shock had overtaken him, the fact leaving a bit of relief in Shizuma’s stomach. He supposed the man wasn’t one who was often laughed at...and he probably should have held back a bit more at that...but then again. No loss, no foul as far as Shizuma was concerned. “Why carry around three expired bingo books?”

Ah. Shizuma’s smile fell in equal turns with the blue blush crawling up his neck once more. Though he tried to continue on smoothly, “Oh, that. A simple side effect of one of my hobbies.” he waved it off, “I collect expired bingo books, but could hardly manage to fit them all in my pockets. So I merely keep those I’d be most annoyed to see missing on my person. Just in case I come home to find myself robbed or some-such.”

Though. Speaking of which. Being in this time period would be a good chance to collect some better copies and fill in a couple of gaps he had yet to manage in the current day.

It was something to remember for later, he silently told himself.

Watching with a weary gaze as Itachi held out his hand expectantly.

Shizuma half considered playing the fool and high-fiving him, but instead reluctantly handed one over with a warning scowl. Not daring to offer up more than one. The hell did he want to see his bingo book for anyway? If it was to cause it harm, he would...he’d...

“These are quite outdated, considering the time you come from.” Itachi flipped through them with an acceptable amount of care, though even still Shizuma itched for them back. “It seems Kisame was only twenty-six at the time of this one’s printing.”

Itachi leaned to the side as he paused on a page, likely the one with Kisame and the other deflected swordsmen. Those who Shizuma had been sure must have seen the decay coming long before it happened. Kisame only chuckled lightly, however, glancing at the image with careful eyes. “Juzo and I are right there in the same spread, hm? It’s older than even my current bingo book then.” he shook his head, “The updated one has Zabuza and I side by side.”

Zabuza Momochi. The first martyr of Naruto Uzumaki’s false peace.

Shizuma narrowed his eyes, but didn’t have long to stew on it as he felt bundles of paper hit his chest.

“Hey! Do not throw my book. Do you have any idea how many men I had to cut down to find the correct print-” he seethed, holding the small booklets to his chest for a split second before recognizing that he had been tossed two rather than one. His rage teetering out as he looked down at the second copy.

A copy of the most recent bingo book produced prior to the war.

One which was all but impossible to find in the current day. The collaborative decennial bingo book! It was one of the few which should logically be holding both Itachi and Kisame, rather than his current pitiful set up which included lugging around their separate village-issued editions.

He propped it open to flip through the pages and check, turning his head away from the two to ignore them as he heard Kisame’s laugh, “So that’s all it takes to quiet your fussing down? If only I’d know sooner-”

“I do not fuss.” Shizuma paused in his flipping for a mere moment to glare at the elder shinobi. “I file complaints, thank you very much.”

Not all that able to show any real rage as he finally landed on the right page.

There they were, far-away shots at the top of the page and less recent close-ups on bottom. Piles of gathered information and estimates tucked carefully in between for all their would-be killers. Clear and thorough proof to all that read the book that the two had, at one point, existed.

He shoved it in his pocket alongside his other, crossing his arms and continuing to glance elsewhere. He had went to look back to the two, but there was something not quite right about seeing Itachi’s lips quirked upwards – even if just a bit.

Still.

“Thank you.” he made himself mutter out, aware it was likely a mere matter of buying another for them, but unwilling to ignore the sheer amount of frankly too-high risk shinobi he’d fought trying to get ahold of it.

Fucking Mizukage and his refusal to acknowledge any portion of Lord Fourth’s reign. Shizuma was almost certain he had something to do with the sheer lack of copies available outside of those price-jacked collectors.

“And he has manners alongside his wad of cash. What a gentlemen.” Kisame sounded all too smug with his words, once again temping Shizuma to toss something at his head as he looked back to the elder man.

“This? You believe this to be a wad?” Shizuma pulled the cash out, waving it easily in front of him.

"I know prices have been getting worse in previous years with all those damn tourists, but surely you must understand how ridiculous you sound. This is my meal money for the day. There is nothing abnormal about it to warrant it being brought up so often.” his words slow and clear, as if it would help the elder understand them any better.

Itachi only rose a brow on his partners behalf, watching the bills with a skeptical look. “...I understand there are certain unfavorable shifts in the economy which often follow spouts of tourism, but surely not to this degree?” he paused momentarily before asking, “Was the meal provided earlier enough to fill you?”

Shizuma awkwardly glanced elsewhere, not quite eager to mark himself as a needy little wimp who needed tended to like a delicate flower.

He was better than those whiny children he was forced to hold in class every day right before lunch, crying about needing their meal to hurry on and get here.

He would be just fine with whatever was provided.

Besides. He wasn’t sure he could have handled much more food at the time regardless, considering he had been a bit more distracted with keeping his head attached to his body.

“It was just fine.” he dismissed the concern quickly, “I simply brought extra cash along for my meal in case I wanted leftovers for the following day. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Itachi leered at him with an expression Shizuma couldn’t quite place, but one knew how to refuse all the same.

Smile. Tilt the head. Loosen the shoulders. Lie. Give his excuse. 

Easy as could be.

“...It’s typically unwise to go tempting the boundaries of your teachers so early into your apprenticeship. Perhaps give it some time before trying to pull things over on us.” Itachi’s advice was surprisingly blunt as the elder shook his head, lifting his legs onto the bed and twisting around in one smooth motion to put his back to the conversation. 

Blinding himself to Shizuma’s outraged sputter at being called out as well as Kisame’s hearty laugh.  

“Well- I’m not your student until morning, so it doesn’t matter then does it!” Shizuma held onto his last shred of dignity, snatching the blanket from beneath him and rolling just the same as the other had. Refusing to let out the string of curses which lined his lips as his head hit the bedframe in the process.  

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long after that the light switched off, Kisame’s massive form moving a bit too quietly through the room before the springs on the other bed gave away his final position. The two shifting in place on the opposite side of the room until, finally, the squeaking stopped.

Shizuma did his best to pay it no mind and focus on his own bed, to put the two to the side for now and allow himself to get some well-earned rest. Yet. It was more difficult than he initially thought as time stretched on and his body refused to drift off no matter how long his eyes remained closed.

He laid there for what felt like a good long while before turning over, rolling onto his stomach to stare through the darkness at the other side of the room. The steady breaths of the two surprisingly hard to ignore as he slept.

Then again. It wasn’t as if he often slept with company in the room.

On missions he tended to spend the extra cash to not be stuck dealing with his teammates more than necessary, and the apartment he lived in wasn’t exactly filled to the brim once night came.

He had Ichirōta and Buntan both over plenty, of course, but the two rarely risked overstaying their welcome beyond dusk.

Yes - Shizuma was plenty used to being alone at night. Perhaps a bit too used to it.

It must be his common sense kicking in, he settled on, grinning thinly as he stuffed his face into his pillow at the thought. Unsure of whether to be grateful to the world for not fucking him over for once or to take himself out back and end his shame where he stood.

He had fallen into the past.

Given them all the information he held.

Got himself not one, but two mentors...

Was claimed as a son?

And now was expected to sleep side by side with them.

It was all so outrageously ridiculous.

Slowly he tilted his head up from its place muffled within the pillow, turning so he was watching in the general direction of the other two. Unable to see them in the dark but listening to their steady breathing all the same as his legs intertwined idly.

It was so, very ridiculous.

So, very, too good to be true.

Any minute now, he was sure one of them would shift and crawl themselves quietly out of the bed. Make their way over, likely with a kunai in hand or sword lifted to kill.

There was no way something like this was real, no matter how the three had spent the afternoon filling the silence and jesting.

More likely than not, the two were merely attempting to at least give him a good final day before they disposed of his now useless body – the body of a fool who had been too eager and let all his secrets slip away instead of responsibly reserving them.

Any minute now, he would feel hands he wasn’t strong enough to fight off wrap around his throat.

Any minute now, he would see the faint glow of red lift from the opposite side of the room.

Any minute now, he would be forced out of the laughable dreamscape he found himself in and have to at least try to pry himself from death’s grip.

There was simply no way the two would bother with such an extra load which offered such little reward. No matter how kind they had been thus far.

He waited and waited, all through the night. Legs pulled up to his chest to keep his vulnerable guts safe with a hand resting lightly against his throat. A thin but decent enough barrier to any who thought to attack.

Yet never did the strike come, the only source of discomfort which found him in the night coming from the small pinch of hunger in his stomach and the weight of his eyelids.

His fears unfounded, up until they weren’t.

Shizuma nearly leapt from the bed as he saw glowing red eyes staring him down from across the room, Itachi’s head lifted just above Kisame’s bicep as he whispered through the heavy night, “...Sleep. I won’t accept confirmation from someone who is only half-rested.”

Shizuma’s eyes snapped shut, the hand he had guarding his stomach and neck alike tightening on reflex. “...I’m working on it.” he lied despite Itachi’s earlier advice, twitching a bit at the heavy sigh it brought forth from the other.

“If we wished to have you dead, you would be.” Itachi spoke matter-a-factly, Shizuma slowly cracking an eye open to see the man peering over at him with his head resting snugly on his partner’s arm. Unblinking even as Shizuma couldn’t help but sulk a bit at being so easily seen through. “We easily could have gotten that information from you at the dock, had we wanted to. Or. It would have been a simple matter of interrogating you in Sasori’s lab and leaving you there for him to do as he wished. Then there was the alternative of snapping your neck while you pretended to sleep at the foot of the bed. Locking you in a Tsukuyomi any of the number of times you’ve continued to dare looking in my eyes-”

“I get it.” Shizuma cut him off, eyes resealing as he tightened the hand on his neck further and used his shoulders to semi-hide behind the blanket. Stupidly, childishly – as if it would keep him safe from the elder shinobi.

His heart squeezing pathetically in his chest as he grit his sharp teeth together, Itachi’s low sigh ringing in his ears. Patronizing as it had been all through the day. “I don’t believe you do.”

Carefully, Shizuma slipped the hand that had been guarding his neck under the pillow, gripping the bulky form of the game system. Not quite trusting himself not to pass out if he were to use the last bit of chakra he had left, but equal parts unwilling to not go down fighting.

Everything should be fine.

It was as Itachi had said. The two had plenty of chances to end him before now. Yet still the weight of the room lingered on him, the stupidity of it all not making the least bit of sense to him.

“Why haven’t you, if you’ve had as many chances as you say?” Shizuma dared to let his mouth continue running, gripping the toy tighter as he reluctantly reopened his eyes to look over at the other. Baiting him – at the very least rathering he be aware he was about to die than have it come by surprise. “As entertaining as this has all been to indulge in, you can’t honestly expect me to believe any of this is sincere. I would much rather you simply be forward with whatever it is you intend.”

The hand holding the makeshift weapon twitched as Itachi’s eyes dimmed, leaving the room pitch black once more. A stretch of silence falling between them as Shizuma tried but failed to catch a steady look at Itachi’s shadow.

“We intend to fulfil our offers.” he could practically hear the frown in Itachi’s voice. “That is all that matters.”

“Why, though?” Shizuma all but hissed in the general direction of the opposite side of the room, glaring into the void that surrounded them, “Why would you waste your valuable time like that? You must have a dozen better things to do.”

Refusing to let up with his harsh gaze even as Itachi sighed once more from across the room. The other was clearly less than pleased to be part of the conversation at this hour, but then, perhaps he should have thought about that beforehand.

“...I’m as selfish as Kisame is sentimental.”

The man refused to speak in anything short of a riddle, Shizuma was coming to find.

He watched the other side of the room with narrowed eyes, slowly retracting his hand from the blunt object to return it to his neck. Allowing a brief moment to pass before he asked, “Elaborate?”

A low huff leaving his lips as the other shot back near immediately, “No. Now sleep.”

His repeated order drew a low sigh from Shizuma himself.

At the very least, his vague words had sounded sincere enough…

____________________________________________________________________________________

“Such a heavy sleeper indeed...” Shizuma awoke to the feeling of a finger pressing heavily against his face, hands reflexively shooting outwards to swat away the intruder with a low growl. Eyes creaking open to see who would dare to be so rude before spotting the hunched over form of the monster of the mist.

Ah. Yes, he supposed if anyone had the right it was him.

Shizuma sat up, continuing to glare at the other even with the realization – though his hands fell to his lap at the very least. “Good morning to you as well.” he muttered in slight criticization, though it seemed to either go unnoticed or ignored by the elder.

Jerk.

“Morning is a bit of a stretch.” Kisame smirked easily, standing up from his hunched position and to his full height. Once more dressed in his red-clouded coat and that horribly slashed headband of his. A foreboding sight, mixed with his words...

Just how late had he slept in?

Shizuma looked to the side on reflex, but found no end table nor alarm clock. A silent reminder that this was not, in fact, his room – as well as confirmation that the day prior had not, in fact, been a bizarre dream bred from blood loss.

He turned his scowl on the empty space beside the bed for a mere moment before allowing it to slip off, looking up at the elder shinobi with a small frown. Shit.

“...Apologies.” he mumbled a bit despite himself, hurrying to get up even as Kisame took to standing idly to the side of the room – sword bound securely to his back. Utterly unconcerned with Shizuma’s sloppiness as he awoke seemingly far too late into the day.

He made quick work of fixing his bed and smoothing down his tangle of curls before he scurried on over to the elder, doing his best to keep his last few shreds of dignity in place. “There isn’t any rush. The food won’t be fleeing in its current state.”

Something Shizuma found himself grateful for despite the corniness of it.

He followed Kisame out the door and through the long winding hallways once more, his stomach twisting with hunger he pointedly did not acknowledge with each step. Shizuma’s hands folded neatly behind his back as they walked, keeping his spine straight while following the elder. “I would hope not.”

The light noise of agreement which came from Kisame leaving an awkwardly pleased feeling in his chest as they made to it what seemed to be a communal cooking area. A room which was near empty, other than Itachi and a woman with light indigo hair. The two sat at one of two tables, tea steaming in the cups before them.

Shizuma glanced the two over for a split second before settling on sticking to Kisame’s side, watching as he tossed a few already made meat sandwiches onto a plate one by one. He waited patiently by the side, nodding along as Kisame glanced between him and the other two momentarily.

“Here. Go sit by Itachi. We'll reconvene in a bit.” he all but shoved the plate into Shizuma’s hands as he spoke, wondering off towards another room which faint bickering resounded from before the younger had a chance to process what exactly he had been nodding along to.

Shizuma frowned thinly as Kisame disappeared in an instant, leaving him with Itachi and the unfamiliar woman. Konan, if he had to guess?

She wasn’t one he knew much about, admittedly.

Only that she had supposedly been Lord Pein’s right hand, and thus was probably not someone he wished to make an enemy out of for now.

Somewhat awkwardly, he shuffled his way over to sit beside Itachi as he bit into the first of the sandwiches. Feeling the eyes of the woman as Itachi paused in whatever it was they were discussing.

He was half tempted to tell them to continue on and not mind him, if not for it being the day prior’s discussion.

Don’t be nosy or meddle in Akatsuki business. It was one of the few conditions he’d been given to being allowed to train under the two.

It was annoying, but one he would deal with for now if it meant learning from the two. Once enough time had passed and he solidified his place, then he could push back a bit.

But for now, he sat, eating his sandwich and staring awkwardly at the woman – unsure of whether to greet her or not.

On one hand, it was probably the polite thing to do. On the other, he really rather not…how was it Itachi so eloquently put it…annoy the Akatsuki into ripping out his heart or painting the base with his flesh, he believed it was? No, that would be quite unfortunate. He rather not, if he could help himself.

Especially when, as confident as he was in his abilities and as in over his head as he had a habit of getting, he was not a complete fool. If push came to shove he’d fight, but he wasn’t about to go placing any bets on himself against them either. The shinobi here were not so pathetic as the one’s back in his time.

Shizuma settled on waving as he felt her gaze continue on him, biting into the second sandwich as he watched her. Giving his best pleasant smile as he offered the quite ignorable greeting as a compromise.

…He cringed a bit inside as her eyes narrowed in turn, immediately kicking himself for his apparent failure. His face paled to a single shade lighter, hand freezing mid-wave.

Well! There goes his heart! Or flesh, he guessed!

Papercut to death. What a loser. He didn’t care at all for what this time period was doing to him.

Shizuma’s smile fell and he sank a bit in his chair from beside Itachi, his free hand falling to his lap as he couldn’t help but match the woman’s soured expression. Well.

At least he had tried, he reminded himself as he lifted a third sandwich to his lips. Not his fault everyone in this damn building was as hard to read as the fucking Mizukage himself.

“…He’s not quite what I pictured.” Konan spoke after a moment, bypassing him to speak directly to Itachi instead. “I was under the impression we’d have another Hidan or Deidara to be dealing with, based on your description. But he seems to be quite the opposite.”

Her words criticizing yet non-hostile. Objective, he supposed.

It gave him a brief wave of relief, though it was quickly overtaken by outrage the further her words sunk in.

His brows began to climb up Shizuma’s face as his head snapped towards Itachi, a tense twitch of a smile lining his lips as he waited for the other to explain himself. Just what in the hell did she mean, she expected him to be like that loud-mouthed moron from outside the door? What, exactly, had Itachi told her regarding him?

“You'll see.” Was all the other said however, an exhausted and not in the least bit sorry expression falling over his face. The elder man’s eyes slipped closed as his head tilted upwards, pointedly ignoring the disbelieving glare which overtook Shizuma’s attempt to remain polite. As if closing his eyes would help him escape his obligation to explain himself.

“Hey! You said to behave, I was behaving! Don’t go sabotaging me by whispering behind my back!” he argued, perking up in his chair as he angrily bit into his fourth sandwich. Waiting for something, anything, to leave the man’s mouth in turn but receiving nothing.

No defense, no apology, no warning to shut up. Nothing.

Shizuma’s brows crawled further up his face as he watched the man, Konan's presence set to the side for now as he reached out to pull at the man’s baggy sleeve.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” He warned, keeping his hands bunched up in the fabric Itachi’s forearm sleeve for a moment before beginning to tug again, “Itachi? Itachi, you can’t just not answer. Itachi, that’s quite rude.”

He paused momentarily as he still received silence, staring at the side of the man’s unmoving face before recalling their conversation yesterday. Hm.

Perhaps if he annoyed him, just a bit, it would help him claim at least some sort of reaction?

“Sir? Itachi sir?” he poked and prodded with his words, receiving no more than a faint twitch of the elder’s brow.

It was progress, he supposed.

“…father-“ he dared as he tugged once more, hoping it would trample just enough on Itachi’s nerves to get him to stop ignoring him. “Fa-th-er-”

Shizuma’s eyes glittered with smugness as he heard a long sigh draw from beside him, his gills fluttering in excitement at the victory. His lips turned upwards as a sharp-toothed grin fell over his face.

So ‘sir’ was annoying and ‘father’ was enough to force his attention.

Noted.

“It is as I said before, you see.” Itachi finally spoke, “He’s quite quick to yip once he’s riled up.” Itachi told Konan, a serious expression on his face even as the woman let out a low hum of understanding - her lips curling just a bit in what seemed to be amusement.

Shizuma had half a mind to throw his last sandwich at the man, but resisted even as his own smile fell into a deep frown.

How could he be expected to uphold a respectable relationship with she and Lord Pein when he was being slandered so? Talked about like a mangy dog they picked up off the road. It was utterly unfair.

Sabotage indeed.

“Then perhaps don’t rile me up!” Shizuma scowled up at Itachi, the elder’s dark eyes finally turning to him after what seemed to be an eternity.

His chair, which had been leaning on its left two legs in order to get adequately close to the man, teetered back as Itachi reached out to flick him in the nose. Rocking back and forth as Shizuma hissed in surprise, dropping his hold on the cloak to keep his plate from slipping off his lap.

“Or perhaps learn to keep your temper in check instead of allowing yourself to be baited so easily. That pouting will do you little good here.” Itachi advised easily as Shizuma’s chair slowly settled back into place, the young Hoshigaki’s gills flapping angrily on his cheeks as a blue blush once more crawled up the base of his throat.

“I’m not pouting!” he argued as he reached up to hold his faintly stinging nose, scowling up at the man even as he once more sank a bit in his seat. His rage simmering out a bit more and more the longer Itachi’s dark eyes lingered on him.

What a prick, Shizuma sulked as he melted into his chair – lifting his final sandwich to his lips even as he kept his own eyes cast upwards to match Itachi’s.

He knew he had a...less than spotless record back in his time, and a... tendency...to get into trouble both petty and otherwise, but it was quite unfair to have it already coming to head in this time. He had yet to cause any real issues and had, in his personal opinion, done quite a good job of playing nice.

Well. Perhaps he had gotten ahead of himself once or twice. As well as being a bit obnoxious to get some of his points across. But he didn’t recall ever being the first to verbally swing, which was something considering the circumstances.

Yes, he’d been quite agreeable the last day or so, he decided.

The slander on his name was beyond unjust.

“Do not allow Itachi's words to sting your heart so.” Konan spoke after a moment, Shizuma’s sharp glare shifting from Itachi to the woman from where he sat. She had lifted her tea cup with one hand as she spoke, amber eyes watching him carefully over the rim. “I can assure you, not all of his report was so unflattering.”

...His chest loosened a bit at her words, glare twitching down into something less disagreeable as he turned her words over in his head – watching her carefully. Biting his tongue briefly as he considered how to go about asking her to elaborate in a more successful manner than he had with Itachi the night prior.

Just as he opened his mouth to do so, however, a low sigh sounded from his left. The chair Itachi had priorly been sitting in scooting back as the man stood, dark eyes glancing from Konan to him. “Be that as it may, my point remains. Having a quick temper which you can’t control is no different than sending a fireball into the forest. It may pave a quick path to your desires, but the route you must then walk remains unpleasant even so.”

...Shizuma half wished the man would just be like the grannies back home and pop him in the mouth for running it too much. It was better, at least, than whatever this monologue was he was being made to sit through...

Besides. He didn’t really see the relevancy to the matter at hand, despite the way the elder said it with all the certainty in the world…

“Now. Do you wish to sit there gossiping, or would you like to hurry on before Kisame opts to leave us behind?” Itachi continued, making his way towards the door. Not so much as bothering to look behind him as Shizuma sat the plate on the counter and hurried after him.

It was a rigged question, considering he had no idea where Kisame had wandered off too! Nor where they were set to go! Yet he followed even so.

Really, would it kill Itachi to be just a bit more straightforward…

Chapter Text

Shizuma followed after Itachi, slowing his hurried pace as he caught up to the elder shinobi. His hands once more folded neatly behind his back, head peeking out from behind the other as they passed through room after room. Taking in each one with close attention. 

Pointedly, the sheer amount of minor messes the building seemed to have despite its extravagant shape. It almost looked like someone had been sparring in the building's rec room, he couldn’t help but notice as they walked. Even as Itachi hardly seemed to blink twice at it, merely continuing on his path without pause. 

A somewhat common occurrence, he supposed. One he probably shouldn’t be terribly surprised with, considering the shouting he’d heard between Deidara and Tobi the day prior... 

Eventually, they made it to what seemed to be the front of the building. 

Itachi motioned to a loose pair of shoes by the front door, which he slipped on quickly despite their slightly ill-fit. Taking no more than a second before he was once more following Itachi through the front door.  

Kisame stood side by side with another tall, bulky, man. One which seemed to have just returned from a mission or trip of some sort, based on the large bag which rested on his shoulder. A shinobi he recognized a bit better than Konan, considering his fame... 

Shizuma did not hide, per se, but he was smart enough to once more use Itachi as a human shield as he felt Kakuzu’s eyes narrow towards him. Sizing him up like a lion deciding whether it was worth the energy to hunt a passing mouse or not.  

Blessedly, the man didn’t have much of a chance to consider it as Kisame turned to them the moment he noticed their approaching. The elder clansmen teetering, “Ah, finished with lunch so soon?” 

“We are. Are you ready to go?” Itachi spoke point blank, nodding along with the other’s words as they stopped just across from the two.  

Though. Shizuma was certain he hadn’t seen Itachi eat anything at this time either...nor had he touched his tea.  

He wondered, mildly, if the two ever really ate.  

“Mhm.” Kisame turned, giving Kakuzu a brief nod before moving to take his first steps down the stairs of the building and towards the mildly flooding road below. “I’ve gone ahead and collected our advances, since it doesn’t appear we’ll be losing our straggler anytime soon.”  

As if the two hadn’t been the first to offer!  

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed at his elder clansmen, though his mouth remained clicked shut for now. The man wasn’t completely wrong, after all – and he probably shouldn’t go biting the hand that was quite literally feeding him at the moment. At least until he could figure out how exactly he was going to go about getting a job for his time in this era while still remaining in range of those two. 

He supposed there was always bounty hunting...though it would be a shame to catch a trail right before they had to move on in the other direction. What other skills did he have, ones which could be a source of income for his time in the past? It wouldn’t do to be so totally useless and dependent on the two elder shinobi, after all.  

He walked closely behind Itachi, keeping a close eye on Kakuzu’s fading form in the corner of his eye as he considered it passingly. Doing his best to ignore the steady pitter patter of rain against his skull – doing his best not to wonder why the hell the two hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella. Doing his best not to worry about the water which was undoubtably leaking towards his stitches... 

“…Only a day in and you’re already clung to Itachi like a little fletching to its mother. How cute.” Kisame’s teasing words brought him from his thoughts, the younger Hoshigaki sending his mentor-to-be an unimpressed look. 

Really, how stupid.  

He opened his mouth to tell the elder exactly where he could shove his opinions when he came to the sobering realization he had, somewhere along the line, in fact gotten a bit too close to Itachi. His fingers were once more wrapped in the elder’s cloak, feet practically on top of the elder as his eyes finally shifted away from Kakuzu and to the men ahead of him.  

Shizuma’s arms dropped in an instant as he saw the mild look of exasperation on Itachi’s face, his own arms tucking tightly across his chest as he slowed his pace to put some distance between them. His face was warm as he all but hissed out with ire in his stomach, “I don’t recall asking.” 

The light chuckle of the elder did little to cool his agitation.  

“You know. It’s not too late for me to take him out back if you so wish, Itachi. We haven’t yet made any financial commitments.” Kisame waved the cash over his shoulder and through the rain, sending him a sharp-toothed grin in - hopefully playful- warning.  

Shizuma did not give into the shiver which ran down his spine, imploring him to run. 

Instead, he merely watched the elder with narrowed eyes, ducting once more behind Itachi to use him as a human shield. Plucking tentatively at the pity strings which he had been so sure would be ineffective at first, yet had managed to get him this far. “…Father...” he sulked into Itachi’s shoulder, imploring him with a not quite sincere pout. 

A long stretch of silence passed between the three as Itachi managed this time to ignore his admittedly childish whine, Kisame’s reaction unseen behind the dark-haired man’s shoulder. Shizuma narrowed his eyes, worrying briefly that he may have pressed the golden button one too many times within the same hour.  

He glanced around the man and towards Kisame, his eyes narrowing further as he spotted the shinobi three times his size sending a near-pout towards Itachi. His beady white eyes drifting from the unamused Uchiha and down to Shizuma as he caught sight of his peeking. “Why’s he get to be ‘father’ already?”  

Kisame’s tittering eased the brief lump of worry in Shizuma’s throat, the younger perking up as he beamed with all the pride in the world - something satisfying entering his chest at being the one holding sway for once. “Well he’s not suggesting I be put down like a dog, now is he?” he asked smugly, though he remained tucked behind the elder all the while.  

Kisame watched him for a good long moment before looking ahead of himself once more, a low huff leaving his lips as he muttered lowly to himself, just hardly heard above the sprinkling water surrounding, “Rotten kids of the future, can’t handle a joke nor a fight…” 

“Excuse you! I very well can handle a fight; I’ll have you know!” Shizuma was quick to correct, the smugness washing off his face and being replaced with a look of outrage. Kisame sent him a doubtful glance out of the corner of his eye, doubling it ten-fold.  

“I see. So you trying to run away like a rabbit with its leg caught in a trap by the docks was merely for fun, then. As well as your little duct and weave act upon making eye contact with Konan and Kakuzu at the base. How convincing you were.” Kisame praised with clear sarcasm, reaching upwards to faintly clap his palms together. “You truly are Itachi’s son, aren’t you?”  

What the hell was that supposed to mean!? 

“I may be arrogant, but I’m no fool.” Shizuma bit down on his tongue to resist the childish urge to stick it out, “A legless rabbit is better than a cooked one, is it not?” 

A long sigh drew from Itachi as the two bickered on, the dark-haired man lifting his head up just a smidge to glance at the sky as he interrupted Kisame’s incoming attempt to further bait him. Dark eyes cast upwards as if to ask the heavens to shut the two up.  

Kisame and Shizuma fell quiet at once, though not without a final quip on each end of the debate.  

“I suppose we’ll just have to see once we’re out in the training field.” 

“I suppose you will.” 

The silence which followed long but not heavy. The seemingly endless rain helping ease the small speck of heat which had lingered in the conversation. It was quite hard to remain truly agitated when the three were soaked head to toe, after all. Kisame’s imposing figure hindered by the slight sag of his hair into his eyes as they walked – and Shizuma’s unfortunately not helping much either... 

Really, they probably should have brought an umbrella along to…wherever it was they were going. He rather not ask now, as it was. 

Shizuma glanced from one side of the road to the other, taking in the sights surrounding. 

The eternally soaked flowers. The fading image of the Akatsuki’s base. The dozens of eyes which so blatantly watched him as he walked after the two. 

The younger Hoshigaki eyed the civilians carefully out of the corner of his eye as he noticed them, leaning up from his spot behind Itachi to set his spine straight. Really, what were they looking at? A particularly blunt man which didn’t even have the decency to pretend he wasn’t staring earned himself a sharp glare, one which had him quickly snapping his head back to focus on his porch sweeping. 

The nerve. 

Shizuma watched them carefully, blowing the damp strand of hair from his face as he carried on behind the two. Only stopping once they made it to a general shop of sorts. He followed Itachi and Kisame inside, sparing the nosy passersbys one final glance before shutting the door behind him.  

He watched with furrowed brows as Itachi and Kisame began to slide their coats off, setting them on a hook near the front of the store without second thought and rubbing their sandals dry on the mat. He mimicked the latter action, though it hardly helped as his shirt, pants, and hair continued to drip heavily onto the floor below.  

Shizuma stood, rigid and soaking as Itachi turned to say something only to pause mid-motion. His brows drawing together as a spark of realization entered his eyes - mouth snapping shut as he reached up to rub his temples.  

For a split second, Shizuma half wondered what in the hell he could have done now to earn him such a soured look. He glanced briefly down at his person, blinking slowly between it and the elder.  

“…Kisame. We never gave him a coat before parting.” Itachi frowned, hands continuing to rub his temples for just a split second as he took in the situation. “He’s sure to leave a pond in his wake in this state.”  

Ah, it probably would have done him well to mention such a thing, wouldn’t it have? 

He watched awkwardly as Kisame let out a low sigh of his own, the elder shinobi looking him up and down with a distinctly failed attempt to suppress his amusement.  

At least someone was having a good time. 

“Ah, don’t worry Itachi. He’ll dry quick, aquatic as he is.” Kisame promised his partner, sliding off his mostly dry arm guards and tossing them over for Shizuma to catch. “You stay here and dry while we get the basics - we’ll loop back around once you’re less…hazardous to the store.”  

The amusement in the elder Hoshigaki’s eyes contrasted sharply with Itachi’s silent exasperation. 

Shizuma took the fabric with a low huff, but nodded in agreement even so. He watched as the two slowly made their way towards the back of the store, his eyes matching Itachi’s as the two carried on towards their shopping. As if the other expected him to bolt the moment he was out of their sight. 

How ridiculous, he mulled, using the fabric of the arm bands to dry his still dripping hair and pat the front of his shirt dry. He felt as, true to Kisame’s promise, he began to steadily dry more and more over the course of the next few minutes. Eventually, enough so that he was able to manage flopping on the ground to sit as he waited on the other two without making much of a mess at all. 

Idly, he tugged on the tip of his bangs, watching as it jumped upwards each and every time - returning to its wavy position as he toyed with it. His gills fluttered idly all the while, taking in what they could of the leftover moisture from the rain.  

He remained in this light, idle, trance up until the front door of the shop creaked slowly open and closed with a faint thump beside him.  

“…My, my. What a sorry sight we have here.” the elderly woman who opened the door tittered as she spotted him, sliding her long coat off and slowly moving to place it on the wall right alongside Itachi and Kisame’s coats. Shizuma’s eyes narrowed at her words, lowering his hand from his hair as a frown fell over his face.  

“Pardon?” his brow twitched with mild agitation, not caring in the least for the superior tone with which she spoke. If she thought to shoo him from the shop…well, she had another thing coming. His lips stretched into a warning smile as she looked to him with something between confusion, weariness, and scolding, daring her to repeat her insult. “I didn’t quite catch that, ma’am.”  

His warning cut short as the confusion and weariness melted from her face, leaving only scolding behind. She sat her bag heavily on ground near the front door, shaking her head as she passed him by with her head held high. “Don’t think you can scare me, young man. Not in such a state, not when I know precisely who you answer to. And certainly not if you wish to remain in my store.”  

Shizuma’s smile fell in an instant, gills snapping shut in alarm before reopening in agitation. His arms crossed as he watched her from his spot on the ground, eyes narrowing further as he took her form in. The hell did she mean, his state? As if a little water could hurt him. And as for who he answered to…was that a dig at his relation to Kisame and Itachi? Did she know them? Did she intend to go crying to them over a matter so small? Surly not. 

He let himself silently stew on these thoughts for the moment, gills fluttering as he forced his head to remain down for the moment.  

He supposed it could be a bluff…but at the same time, he hadn’t gotten as far as he had in his own time with sheer brute force. He knew how to keep his temper in check and play things safe, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath as he watched the woman out of the corner of his eye. Steadying his heart and voice as he amended after a long moment, “…My apologies. Though it is no excuse for my rudeness, my week has been long. I meant no disrespect, ma’am.” 

Shizuma kept his face as neutral as possible as he felt her glance him over from the counter, shoving down his own annoyances to instead put on his best face of sincerity. Not quite interested in getting himself kicked out of the village’s general store two days into his stay. 

Crystal blue eyes met ancient and knowing brown ones, the two watching one another for only a brief moment before she turned to move back towards him. 

He watched her wearily, legs ready to jolt to the side and make a break for it should the unlikely need arise. His head tilted upwards as she slowly moved to stand before him, the woman reaching into her sleeve to pull something from it as she mused, “…Well then, I suppose I’ll forgive you this once. Don’t go making a habit out of it, however. Do you hear?” 

Her warning was firm as she dropped the small wrapped candy from her sleeve down into his lap. The young Hoshigaki catching it with ease before looking up to her with a slow blink. “Yes ma’am…?” he spoke, mildly caught off guard by her gift given their not quite ended argument. He half wondered if it was safe, but set that aside for now as he obliged, “Thank you.” 

Their awkward stare off brought to an end as Itachi’s sigh, which was starting to become familiar, sounded off from their right. The dark eyes of the elder lingering on him as he mulled with his full shopping basket loose in his grip, “I was under the impression you were a bit too old to need the don’t talk to or take things from strangers warning, Shizuma…”  

Utterly uninterested in his response as Shizuma’s soured expression returned, the younger shinobi objecting even as he held the small sugary treat, “It’s not as if I ate it. I was being polite - something I believe is supposed to be a good thing, yes?” 

Itachi’s firm frown cut to pieces as the elderly woman shuffled on over to him next, lifting her hand to pat the elder on the cheek with a low, scolding titter. “Now, now, Itachi dear. I have enough for both of you. No need to go preening the boy in the middle of my store.”  

His gaze lowered to match hers, brows furrowing as Shizuma watched the two with mild interest. Huh. He wasn’t certain he had seen such an expression on Itachi before. Was he…embarrassed? Happy? Somewhere in between?  

It certainly seemed that way as the woman continued carefully taking his hand, smoothing it open with her aged hands before dropping a small sweet within and pressing it shut. “There we go. Now how about you leave this matter to Kisame and come help an old woman understand some of these rumors she’s heard? Tell me that overgrown piranha hasn’t gone and broke your heart?”  

The worry with which she spoke sincere as she led Itachi away, the elder shinobi’s brows furrowing precisely in turn with the younger’s. Itachi sent him a weary, almost searching look, though he only received an earnest shrug in turn.  

Hell if he knew what she was on about.  

Itachi merely sighed at his for once sincere response, shaking his head as he followed the elderly woman. Sending out one final order before disappearing towards the back.  

“…Very well. Shizuma, go meet up with Kisame in the clothing section. I’ll rejoin you two in just a moment.” 

Chapter Text

Shizuma watched the two make their way towards the back, slipping one after another into the wood door that was tucked away behind the payment counter.

Their forms vanishing in an instant and leaving him alone once more.

He glanced down idly at the brightly colored candy in his hand which he had been left with, considering it briefly before shoving it in his pocket. It was probably safe to eat if Itachi had accepted one of his own, but at the same time, he rather not go tempting fate anymore for the day.

Besides, it wasn’t as if it was going to go bad anytime soon.

Shizuma slowly pulled himself up off the floor with this thought, standing in one drawn out movement - using the wall to steady his already tiring body. The day had hardly begun, yet already he wished to return to their room.

His fingers rubbed idly against his chest as he began his search for Kisame, easing the faint tightness which came with his injury and chakra exhaustion as he passed through isle after isle - scowling mildly as he turned the previous conversation over in his head.

What had that old bat been on about? Itachi’s heart, broken? As if.

He only came to a halt as he turned a fourth corner in his walk, the large form of Kisame coming into view.

The two of them left alone once more, though this time it was he who was expected to approach the monster of the mist.

Shizuma watched the man carefully, eyes flickering from the top of the man’s hair to the bottom of his feet a few times over. Watching as he shifted from one shirt to another on the clothing rack, eyes intent as he worked.

The picture of calmness, a sharp contrast to all he had expected before meeting him and all he had seen over the last day or two.

Shizuma’s hand dropped from its spot rubbing lightly against his stitches, making his way closer and closer. Watching him carefully, waiting to be noticed as he stood at his left. His hands loose by his side even as the man three times his size glanced down at him...those beady white eyes watching him with something that almost made Shizuma doubt the insincerity of his mock-hiding behind Itachi.

It was one thing to taunt and flaunt against someone so much bigger when he was at a distance, it was another completely to be stuck alone with them immediately after the fact.

He mildly considered backtracking on his previous words to preemptively save his own ass, but had little chance to do more than that as he felt a heavy hand land on the top of his head; shaking his already damp and unbrushed hair into further disarray with one quick movement.

Shizuma nearly stumbled at the sheer unrestrained weight of the hand, hissing briefly to himself as he forced his footing to remain steady beneath it. His teeth grit together as he bit down the rude remark he wanted to give, listening as Kisame tittered on, “What’s that look for? If I was going to eat you it would have happened long before now.”

Shizuma narrowed his eyes at the elder as he glanced upwards – or at least, as best he could given the circumstances.

“Besides, I don’t tend to waste my time dressing up my meals. It’s very inefficient, you see?” Kisame sent him a too-amused glance as he lifted his hand and held up a horrendous excuse for a shirt - the soft, frilly purple top looking like it would better fit a clown than a shinobi. Something Shizuma half wondered if the other did on purpose as he swatted his hand loosely in Kisame’s direction, rolling his eyes slightly as he forced up courage he only half felt. It had to be that, or the man had the worst taste known to man. “Oh? More of a diva than you appear, are you? That half eaten shirt you arrived in led me to believe otherwise.”

“I would argue there’s a bit of a difference to be found between being picky for appearances sake and being picky for realism's." Shizuma slid around the man with an angry blush, beginning to poke at the rack as he resteadied himself. He kept his head high as he spoke, not allowing himself to be cowed. “That fabric would disintegrate in the mere presence of a kunai, melt in the faintest heat, and shatter at the first breeze of winter. It is, if anything, better suited to be a bandage than a piece of clothing.”

He shook his head disapprovingly at the thought, pulling down a thick grey top not unlike the one that currently lay shredded in their bedroom. Running his fingers over the padding of the clothing to assure himself it was as thick as it looked. Stretching the fabric briefly to see if it was breathable as he cut down Kisame’s mild teasing.

“Hm. More sense in that head of yours than it seems at first glance.” Kisame mused by his side, Shizuma’s brow twitching briefly at the double-edged comment. Pleased with the praise, yet not so deaf as to miss the underlying insult.

“Yes, well, believe it or not I did require at least a speck of it to make it this far.” Shizuma settled on shooting back, draping the thick shirt over his arm as he continued searching for a matching pair of pants. Finding a few that aligned quite swiftly, though it did take a moment longer to find some to fit his long legs. He shifted through them, trying to find at least one that wouldn't cling awkwardly to his calves. 

His eyes cast downwards as he held a final pair up to his waist, nodding briefly to himself as he saw a good fit. The pair was draped over his arm alongside the shirt soon after.

Shizuma then moved to the opposite rack, towards their less winter-friendly clothes.

Shirts, shorts, and pants alike - all significantly cheaper due to it being the off season. He eyed them carefully alongside the price tags, taking them in and comparing them to the cash still rolled up in his borrowed pockets. He could probably afford another three or so sets if he bought from the cheaper sections, though he also rather not completely deplete what little cash he had on him. Even if the cheap price was entirely too tempting.

He slipped a sleeveless yet sturdy burgundy shirt over his arm next, checking to make sure the zipper up front functioned well before moving on to the dark pants he intended to use with it. The perfect outfit for the heat or winter, so long as he had a coat or second layer of some sort to slip on or off.

Shizuma’s eyes continued to drift soon after, hands flittering through the dozens of choices for something that would both suit the heat and survive a fight without being left in shreds. He moved the shirts from one end to another, his attention from his work drawn only as Kisame spoke from behind him - his tone a clear attempt to be casual despite the gap in the conversation which made it clear it wasn’t.

“…I suppose so. Though. You seem less like the type to look after yourself and more like the type to need looked after. I can’t imagine the headaches you must have put the clan elders through.” Kisame huffed lightly from behind him, his attempt at humor falling flat as Shizuma’s lips fell into a thin line. The younger not bothering to look up from his work as he continued shifting through the shirts, let alone indulge the other with the snarky laugh and rebuttal he normally would.

Light blue eyes narrowed as he looked over the clothing, debating on whether to bother responding to the unasked question or not.

Itachi certainly hadn’t been interested in listening to his discontent with Kirigakure’s current state, let alone the plans he had worked so hard with the land of water on to help rectify it.

Though, he supposed, Kisame hadn’t been quite so cut and dry.

He had sided with Itachi in the end, but he hadn’t been near as dismissive of his grievances nor plans. Perhaps out of a lack of place on the subject, perhaps out of understanding for whatever it was that had made Itachi so against the faintest idea of the badly needed revolution.

It had been infuriating regardless at the time, though the more he looked back on it, he supposed he had gotten a bit ahead of himself. Too caught up in the recalling of the Fourth War and Lord Fourth’s falling to catch wind of the feathers he was ruffling.

Yet still. He supposed this was a bit different. They were only talking of the clan, not necessarily all the dark webs which he had over time begun to align so closely with it. It shouldn’t hurt to answer him, to give into his mild prying.

Idly, Shizuma rubbed a piece of fabric between his fingers. Toying with it as he steadied his heart - not allowing the same outrage which had overtaken him during their first conversation to do the same now.

“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. I may be a bit reckless at times, but as I’ve said, I’m not stupid. I know the difference between pushing buttons which will get me chewed out and ones which will get me killed.” his eyes narrowed a bit at the shirt in his grip as his nails indented against the sleeve, adding, “I didn’t need those washed-up geezers to learn that much.”

He didn’t need any of them.

Not those who shunned him as an outsider after weeks of traveling from Otogakure to his homeland. Hardly old enough to walk let alone run with the other prisoners of the mist who had taken enough pity on him to bring him along.

Not those who were too busy playing lap dog with the Mizukage to take on the reputational suicide that was a child spawned from the man who had led their clan to ruin.

Not those who at least had at least the ability to hate him on his own terms, to turn tail at the beast bred from ‘evils’ none of them could ever hope to understand.

Not those who were so cowardly as to take their past winnings and run, abandoning Kirigakure to the new ways and never once looking back.

Not even those who had the honor to refuse to take the disrespect to their clan's name after all they had done for the village, fighting to the last breath, refusing to fall to anything but a sword - the enemies or otherwise.

He did not need them.

His clan was rotten, poisoned from the outside in and down to its core. Sabotaged by the Mizukage’s false peace, torn from left to right until their was nothing left. No one left. No one but he who was meant to die long ago, the sellouts, and their own poisoned children. So poised and peace loving, domesticated. Like prized poodles looking down at their bloodied origins, thinking themselves better for their repressed instincts.

Wailing and howling like infants the moment he suggested they bite the hand which had become entirely too comfortable beating them to pieces.

“…Hm, I didn’t take them for the type to hold such grudges. Though I suppose I did leave a rather nasty mark on our clan’s name, as well as the villages, didn’t I?” Kisame suggested after a long moment, seeming to understand well what Shizuma meant to say without needing it spelled out for him. Perhaps unaware of the finer details, but at least able to gather the damnation that his blood held.

Shizuma’s hand lowered from the fabric he had been toying with, shifting to a new shirt. A navy blue one with long, wide sleeves and an open v-neck collar. The hem of the shirt wide enough to let in ample airflow, the fabric both breathable and taut under his hold. “Quite so. Though, you were hardly the true cause of our clan’s fall from grace within their borders. All beasts with sharp teeth are destined to be feared, whether they have a history of biting or not. I don’t imagine things would have been much better for the clan within the village regardless with this false peace approaching.”

He shrugged lightly, tossing the shirt over his arm alongside the rest of his collection as he spoke. “The Mizukage would have grown weary of the Hoshigaki either way, just as they did all the others of our reputation - good or bad. Your deflection was little more than an excuse they used to put targets on our clan’s backs. Targets that were destined to draw blood and lead to in-fighting within our clan, and thus, it’s domestication and eventual annihilation.”

Shizuma shook his head briefly at his own rambling; clarifying with a tight, bitter frown, “It only makes sense that I would be put at a distance by the clan, given the circumstances. I was a threat to their survival within the village, so of course they’d rather not associate themselves with me. Not when I am so clearly an extension of the one originally put to blame.”

His brows pressed together, the villager’s distant words echoing in his ears even now. Words that had been spoken around he and his friends countless times, whispered in mock-sympathy amongst the civilians and elder shinobi alike. Whispers which promised them peace in the death which they so refused to submit to.

"It is a fate faced by many born to great shinobi in the years leading up to the fourth war. The more impressive the bloodline, the more eager the higher ups are to either subdue or end it. Whatever it takes to finally free the village of its ‘shameful’ origins.” he explained.

Unworthy of joining the clans rebirth, yet too stubborn to die alongside the past they embodied.

Shizuma’s hands gripped roughly against the rim of the pants he had lifted off the hanger and held up to his waist, the soft edges burning in his grip as he bit down the urge to lash out at the thought. The silence which followed leaving painful pin pricks down his neck and spine.

He wanted to demand the elder shinobi say something, anything, as the seconds crawled on with him merely standing quietly by his side.

Shizuma wanted to claw and scream and bite in ways he hadn’t since he was a small, small child.

To make him answer for his lack of outrage at the horrible pits to which their clan had allowed themselves to fall. To answer for how he could not be angry with the way he had been made a villain by both the elders and the village – his name an excuse to damn their bloodline for mere convenience's sake. Used as a tool to aid in their lap dog act and agenda of false peace respectively…

He channeled his frustrations into the fabric, twisting it tightly in his grip as he stood. A sharp, shooting jolt of electricity running through him as he felt the too-large hand once more fall on the back of his throat - though this time far lighter.

Shizuma’s gaze snapped up and back to look at the other, very nearly giving into his instinct to either snap at the man with his teeth or flee at the sudden move.

The hand rubbed the back of his throat just as Itachi’s had the day prior, Shizuma’s shoulders hunching up quite the same as he shot through everything he had said.

Half worried he had run his mouth too much again as he felt the hand and gaze of the other.

Unexpected praise fell from above however, Kisame’s still steady voice carrying on without pause as he seemed to muse half to Shizuma and half to himself, “Of course someone of Itachi and I’s blood would see so easily through their muddied mist.”

Kisame’s thumb traced lightly over the back of Shizuma’s neck, leaving him caught between unease and relief with each swipe which ran slowly up and down the top of his spine.

He was far from unused to such casual touch, he forced himself to remember as his heart sped in his chest.

It was hardly a rare occurrence, between Buntan and Ichirōta. The two took just about every chance they got to both cling and be clung to between the three of them. And he was no different.

Yet it dug something from the deepest pit of his chest as the elder shinobi gave him even this simple praise for surviving trials Shizuma had a mere few days ago thought he would never know of. Trials Shizuma was certain he would have been scoffed at by his ancestors for struggling through had they ever managed to see him from beyond the pure lands.

To be praised for something as basic as surviving…as simple as sticking to the path he had always felt laid out before him. It felt unbelievably, perhaps embarrassingly, good. The unease in his chest simmering out the longer he remained in his elder clansmen’s hold, the rage he had felt being slow to follow in its disappearance as well.

Something in the way the elder spoke told him Kisame understood more of what he meant to say than he let on - - though he didn’t push his luck at the moment by prying back.

“Again with that look. I don’t recall you being so docile or shy yesterday – don't tell me I scrambled those beautiful brains of yours too badly?” Kisame’s tittering ruined the ease which had finally begun to soak in, the taller man leaning down once more to get entirely too close to Shizuma’s face. His sharp teeth revealed as he smiled in heavy contrast with Shizuma’s own deep scowl of embarrassment.

The younger held the clothing further to his chest, feeling the faint blue which had begun crawling up his face double at the very idea as he dismissed, “You think yourself a true comedian, don’t you?”

“Mm. At times.” Kisame had the gall to easily agree, even as he leaned back and out of his face – his hand lifting from Shizuma’s neck to instead come down on his shoulder. Patting him all to gently even as he continued to nip at him with his words. “Though, I suppose I shouldn’t push my luck too much. After all, it would be a shame to find myself added to the list of ‘washed-up old geezers’ you refuse to pay any mind to. It would make training you quite a bit more difficult.”

Shizuma watched him out of the corner of his eye, letting out a low huff as he muttered, “Yes, well, we can at least agree on that much. The list of people I genuinely respect is very, very short and it would be a shame to see it halved in an instant.” he tittered back, slipping out from under the hand on his shoulder as he spotted something on a rack behind the elder shinobi.

A long black cardigan which would surely reach his knees, one thick enough to protect him from the cold when clipped closed yet sleek enough that he wouldn’t find himself soaked beneath if it rained.

Plus, it sort of matched Kisame and Itachi’s coats in color - and would blend perfectly with any of the shirts he had selected. Not to mention the advantages it gave as far as stealth went...

“My son and student respects me. How cute.” Kisame mused from behind him as Shizuma held the cardigan up to his body, rolling his eyes but keeping his head turned so it wasn’t visible.

He tossed the fabric over his arm with the others, leaning down to the side to grab a quick pack of underclothing and socks each. Tucking them under the clothes hanging on his arm before turning back to the elder shinobi. “Mm, I can be described as many things, but I don’t believe cute is one of them.”

Shizuma nearly rolled his eyes to the man’s face as he saw him blink slowly down at him, lips parting as if surprised by his words.

Even now the man mocked him, Shizuma scowled slightly up at his soon to be mentor.

“Now, do you wish to stand here continuing to taunt me, or are you quite ready to reconvene with Itachi?” he held up his nose as he held the clothes, unwilling to play into any further teasing.

Though. It was quite hard to look down his nose at the other when he was still a good head or two shorter than them.

...He quit his attempt after a brief second, finding no superiority in the motion as he realized how far back his neck had to crane to make eye contact.

Any day now he’d hit a growth spurt and amend the injustice.

“You have three outfits and a jacket.” Kisame’s brow rose from across from him, as unimpressed with the situation as Shizuma was. “I believe we still have plenty left to do before meeting back up with him. Or are your trying to waltz me towards Itachi’s wrath?”

Shizuma’s scowl doubled as he looked between the elder and his small hoard of clothes, not quite wanting to have to trade out the perfect matches for a larger variety. Quality over quantity and all that. “This is more than enough to tide me over until I’m able to find work. I have no desire to completely empty my pockets.”

“No amount of puffing yourself up is going to change my mind. Pick at least another three unless you want me to pick for you.” Kisame shook his head, “You heard me earlier – I have our advances. It’s Itachi and I’s treat.”

“That isn’t necessary. I can pay for myself, as you are already-” Shizuma’s eyes widened as he saw Kisame throw the ridiculous clown shirt over his arm, the younger reaching over to swat his arm on reflex. “Stop that, I won’t wear it. You’re not-”

A second, equally as horrific, shirt was tossed over Kisame’s same arm.

“Fine, fine!” Shizuma hissed, snatching the ugly shirts off him and throwing them right back on the display Kisame had taken them from. Unwilling to stand by and allow him to make a fool of them both by wasting his money on them. “You can buy them now and I’ll pay you back later, alright?”

“You may repay me by being a good student and listening when your teacher speaks. Something I believe you yourself said you were just getting onto your own students for yesterday.” Kisame noted mildly, though he blessedly did not attempt to regather the snatched items as Shizuma continued shifting through the clothes with a small hint of annoyance.

That had been different, he silently argued – sliding another two pairs of pants over his arm and a plain black sleeveless turtleneck to go with it.

“...That old bat was right, you are just an overgrown piranha.” he muttered under his breath in insult, jumping just a bit as Kisame’s brow rose from beside him.

“What was that?”

How the hell did the man hear so well with both his ears covered by his headband!?

“I said thank you, father!” he amended with what he hoped was a close to endearing smile, tossing a plain red sweater over his arm as he craned his neck up once more to look at the other. His resolve unfaltering even as Kisame made a low noise of doubt in the back of his throat.

Chapter Text

Once Shizuma had finished picking out a sufficient enough number of items for Kisame's taste, the pre-teen returned to his side. His arm was held up slightly to show the hoard of clothes, beady white eyes glancing over them momentarily before nodding.  

“Good. Itachi has the rest of your things, so let’s go meet up with him so we can check out.” Kisame decided, turning on his heel and making way for the front without pause.  

Hm, Shizuma mulled as he watched him from behind. Suddenly remembering that he never had actually mentioned where the other had gone. Was Kisame a sensor? Or had he heard the door chime earlier and connected the dots to Itachi’s disappearance?  

Perhaps a bit of both. After all, as difficult of a skill as it was to learn, he doubted Kisame was so inadept as to not be able to feel the chakra of those mere yards away; even if he wasn’t one.  

If Shizuma could do it, he was certain the elder could.  

Regardless, he trotted on behind him, keeping himself at enough of a distance that he was neither underfoot or falling behind.  

He slowed further as they made it to the front, Kisame's moves unhesitant as he went behind the service counter and into the room behind.  

Shizuma allowed himself to do the same, though he kept his presence light as they passed into the backroom – Or rather, he supposed, break room.  

The woman from before sat at a roundtable beside Itachi, each holding a cup of tea. Unlike this morning, however, Itachi drank from this one rather than merely allowing it to warm his hands. 

Two cups sat ready and steaming across from them as well.  

“So, I hear I’ve been demoted to an overgrown piranha, Miss Amaya?” Kisame parroted his earlier words as he plopped down heavily in one of the chairs, lifting the cup before him despite the woman’s insult.  

Shizuma’s gills snapped open as he tried to cool the initial heat running towards his face at the others bluntness, his own eyes shifting away as he saw the sharp look the elderly woman gave him.  

If she was someone Kisame and Itachi were so clearly - at least mildly - fond of, he probably shouldn’t go indulging in the fight. Even if it grated his gears horribly, he reminded himself while scowling elsewhere.  

Shizuma sat the heap of clothes to the side, alongside Itachi's basket, so that they wouldn’t risk being dirtied should the tea spill. Making sure they were situated before he slid into the chair beside Kisame – hands held stiffly in his lap as he glowered down at the table rather than the woman.  

“…A misunderstanding, dear.” He could see the woman in his peripheral reaching over and up to pat Kisame on the cheek just as she had Itachi, her tone apologetic. “You know how I can get myself worked up.”  

Kisame’s lips curved up and into a smile as she spoke, amusement clear on his face as he asked, “Oh? Is that so?” glancing between the two of them for explanation. 

Itachi shook his head to her side, lifting the tea to his mouth before speaking.  “…Yes. It seems we have some colorful rumors floating about.” he noted mildly, Shizuma’s sullen mood set to the side for now and replaced with interest at the way Itachi spoke.  

His eyes flickered upwards and towards the elder man, lingering on him.  

It was almost unsettling to see Itachi’s lips quirk upwards in amusement as he spoke, dark eyes boring into Kisame. “To sire a child so many years ago... abandoning it in the mist with its mother. Whisking off and away to another village as you left both forsaken... all without ever telling your new lover of any of it. How very cruel of you, Kisame.”  

The elderly woman’s hand lowered from Kisame’s cheek and down to her own lap, a briefly irritated blush spreading along her face. 

Good. It was about damn time he wasn’t the only one suffering through their poking and prodding.  

Kisame’s hearty laugh did little to help her, the elder Hoshigaki’s own lips curling in turn with his partners as he bowed forwards, “Ah, forgive me dearest for my past debaucheries. You know how my heart sways.” he apologized playfully, sharp teeth spreading into a grin across his face with each word.  

Shizuma’s last few specks of ire melted as he blinked owlishly between the two. Their tones familiar, yet... 

Itachi dipped his fingers in his tea, flicking the few droplets over and onto Kisame’s face in reprimand. The small, smug quirk of his lips doubling as they bantered, borderline, flirtingly.  

He looked prepared to say something, bit was cut off as the dots finally connected for Shizuma. 

The quick willingness of both claim him as theirs once things had settled. 

The unwavering loyalty and attention Kisame had shown for Itachi in their brief time together. 

The conjoined beds. 

The late-night cuddling. 

“…Oh.” He blinked, processing the information perhaps a bit too late.  

He hadn’t given it enough thought for it to have occurred to him before then.  

It made sense he supposed, considering he’d never heard any mention of either taking a lover in life. He had simply assumed it was due to their status as wanted criminals - an unnecessary risk neither would take. Though that was hardly a problem if both were of the same situation, the longer he thought about it... 

Itachi’s brow rose as his lips now quirked in the opposite direction.  

He watched Shizuma carefully, holding his cup loosely in front of him as he asked flatly, “…Connecting some dots, are you?” something discontent in his voice as he seemed to fall from the high of their shared amusement and back down into his usual grim expression.  

Quickly, Shizuma sent him back an equally flat look. 

Fine, fine. He probably should have noticed earlier, but his thoughts had been preoccupied! There was no need to rub salt in the wound that was his own blindness.  

“No. I had noticed earlier.” he lied, lifting his cup from the table to partially hide his face as he sipped from it. The pair of eyes across from him narrowed in doubt, though he kept himself steady still, refusing to acknowledge it.  

“...I’m sure you did.” Itachi’s finger tapped idly against his cup as his mind seemed to turn with something Shizuma couldn’t quite place, the younger shinobi listening with furrowed brows as Itachi spoke, “This is something that is acceptable to you then, I presume, if you are intending to stay by our sides?” 

Acceptable? 

Shizuma’s brows furrowed further as he brought the cup back down to the table, glancing between Kisame and Itachi. Unsure of how exactly to word what he meant to say, but eventually settling on speaking bluntly in the face of Itachi’s suddenly too serious demeanor.  

“I...do not care nor believe it to be any of my business who you choose to bed?” he shrugged lightly, letting out a low huff of amusement at the underlying question. “If you say that in regard to your persuasions, I can assure you, I have no stones to be throwing.” 

No, he was afraid he enjoyed window shopping on both sides of the booth far too much for that.  

Itachi continued eyeing him carefully for only a moment longer before his head tilted back as it had earlier this morning, the man seeming to mourn mildly over the comment of their shared bed despite the way his shoulders slightly loosened. “How vulgar.”  

His scolding held little weight when matched with brief laughs from both Kisame and the elderly woman to his side, Shizuma’s own lips quirking upwards a bit at the successfulness of his words.  

At the very least, this time their discussion hadn’t ended with any real ire directed his way. 

It was a good, yet unfortunately short-lived feeling.  

Shizuma let out a low hiss of surprise as he felt Kisame’s arm wrap around his shoulders, leaning over and into his face once more as he mused, “No stones to be throwing, hm? Don’t tell me this mood you’ve had is because you’re missing your loverboy?”  

His loverboy!? 

His mood!? 

Shizuma sent the other an unimpressed glance, lip and brow each quirking upwards in turn. Really, how childish did they take him to be?  

“I have no such thing,” he dismissed, lifting a hand to wave Kisame off with a slight fluster. His own eyes fell closed as he spoke, brow twitching at the thought. He had far more important matters to worry about right now than silly things like love. “-And I’m afraid this mood of mine is not correlated in the least.” 

He would dare say his mood had a lot less to do with those temporarily lost and a lot more to do with the incessant teasing he’d faced since arriving in the past. 

As the hours stretched on, he was beginning to feel more and more like their pet or jester...something that would hopefully be resolved once he was healed and able to put his money where his mouth was. 

Urg. It had been so terribly long since someone had mustered up the gall to be so simultaneously ruthless and coddling towards him. He creaked his eyes back open, watching the man out of the corner of his gaze.  

“Oh? Pity, and here I was thinking I had figured it out.” Kisame mused, letting go of his hold on Shizuma’s shoulders after a brief moment to continue leaning back with his tea. “Though I suppose I wouldn’t be much happier if I were you, given the circumstances. I certainly wouldn’t be hopping around half as much.”  

Kisame glanced to the elderly woman, lifting his forearm which was still exposed due to his borrowed arm warmers as he mused, “It took longer than you’d think to get him calmed enough to talk when he first arrived. He’s quite slippery – almost like a feral kitten. Even bit me to get out of my first hold.”  

Shizuma was going to put a hole through Kisame’s temple the moment he got his hands on a sword. 

“Oh, I’d believe it.” the woman sipped at her tea, tone critical even as her lips quirked in realization at the sight of Kisame’s bitten-up arm. “He looked a bit like a kitten when I first came in...that little number they do when they become scared and hunch their spine, hissing?” she suggested. 

Shizuma scowled to the two of them, somehow finding her objective observation a bit more insulting than Kisame’s teasing.  

She was lucky Kisame and Itachi were fond of her. Damn lucky.  

He sat his elbow on the chair, huffing heavily and resting his chin on his hand to ignore the two as he sipped through his tea. The sooner he was done with it, hopefully, the sooner they could leave.  

“...That’s enough, you two.” Itachi’s voice rang in his ears after a brief moment, the elder finally coming to his rescue in the face of his allies’ merciless and frankly pointless cruelty towards his pride. “Rile him up any further and he’s bound to pop a stitch.”  

As though his impulse control was so low. Shizuma sulked a bit at the idea, though he made no comment for now since the other was - in the end - on his side.  

“Besides. Let's not scare off our apprentice before we’ve even managed to buy him a weapon.” Itachi continued his mild scolding, Shizuma’s own head remaining tilted away as he listened with perked ears.  

So he would be getting a weapon from them alongside his clothes.  

His feet pattered idly against the ground in too-large shoes, considering briefly what exactly he would be getting. More likely than not a sword, if nothing else. After all, it would be a bit hard to learn from Kisame without one... 

Especially if things were as he hoped and the man would one day teach him how to wield Samehada. A beyond valuable skill to have, one that would surely serve him well if he one day got his hands on it in the present day.  

Oh yes, he’d listen quite well to Kisame’s instruction if that was the case. He would be such a good student...teasing be damned. He would bring the glory of the blood mist back with him.  

“Ah, is that your next stop?” the elderly woman asked, Shizuma’s head shifting from the side and over to her finally as she spoke. “You didn’t bring even that much with you from home?” 

The woman tittered as she drank the last of her tea, “Then again, I suppose you must have been in quite the rush, leaving home so suddenly...”  

"Mhm.” Shizuma continued sipping at his tea, taking mild note of the fact she didn’t seem to know about his trip through time based on the way she spoke. Not wanting to contradict anything Itachi had claimed prior to his arrival, yet still taking a bit of satisfaction in the fact she didn’t know. 

So she was close to them, but not that close, he mused – pleased at the thought despite the sharp look Itachi was giving him out of the corner of his eye. Warning him off against saying anything further, as if he were so stupid. 

He knew very well the disaster that could ensue from his origins becoming widespread, and had no intention of placing such a large bounty on his head so carelessly. Not when it was sure to lead to halts in his training he hardly has the patience for.  

“Children...so impulsive; and to be so proud of it. You two have your work cut out for you alright.” the elderly woman shook her head briefly, turning to Kisame as she spoke. “However, at the very least, it’s as I’ve told Itachi – you lot can consider what you’ve collected here today my gift for the birth of your family. Even if I am a bit late.”  

Kisame’s eyes expanded just a bit at her words, the bear of a man once more falling into the same too-polite and too-mild tone Shizuma had noticed he so often took with Itachi.  

“Ah, but we’ve gathered so much here today. We would practically be stealing-” 

“You’ve bought from my shop loyally for years now. It’s practically a return.” 

“Yes, but you see-”  

Shizuma tilted his head back upwards as the two carried on, his feet returning to tapping idly against the floor below as they chattered.  

They carried on for what seemed to be an eternity before Itachi finally spoke, “Kisame, it’s fine. I’ve gone through this with her already. Let’s not argue.” he shut down the elder shinobi’s polite decline after a terribly long few minutes, shifting in his seat. “Besides, it’s as she’s said. The less we spend here, the more we can afford at the weapon’s shop. His clothes and brushes will be of little use if he’s cut down due to a cheap blade mere months into his time here."

Like hell. He did not come this far to die mere months into his training.  

A steady beat of silence filled the room before Kisame gave a nod to his side, bowing his head as he finally agreed, “You have our thanks, Miss Amaya.”  

The woman only waved him off however, not seeming phased in the least by his appreciation.  

Then again, Shizuma supposed he wouldn’t be all that hurt by the loss of merchandise either, considering he hadn’t seen any other general shops in the village on the way there. He was certain she got more than enough customers to quickly amend the kindness she was showing here today.  

Shizuma blinked as Kisame’s large hand fell on his back, forcing him into a bow to match his.  

“Shizuma thanks you as well.” he added, utterly ignoring the light scowl sent his way by the younger clansmen.  

He had been just about to give his thanks. He was not a child that needed reminded, he silently glowered even as the hand remained on his back. He was more than capable of doing it on his own. Yet still. He kept his annoyance to himself, not quite wanting to start something with the man he had only just decided...probably and most likely...could be at the very least trusted not to eat him without provocation. Nor the one a mere hour or so away from deciding on which weapons he would be able to have... “Yes, thank you, Miss Amaya.” 

Chapter Text

An eternity seemed to pass before they were finally able to leave, the elderly woman bundling up their things in bags before sending them on their way with only a vague warning for him to behave for the two. 

What, exactly, endeared her to the two, Shizuma couldn’t quite say even as he nodded and bowed along to her demands like the damn lapdogs he so hated. 

If it meant reaping the benefits of this time, it was worth it, he reminded himself as they set out once more – this time with Itachi leading the way and Kisame tailing behind him. Their bags of items were held securely in his grip despite the sheer number of them.  

Shizuma himself snuck into the spot between, not sure where the weapons shop was in order to hurry on ahead, but not wanting to linger either. He peaked around Itachi’s shoulders as they walked, hands held behind his back as he allowed his new coat to take the brunt of the wind and rain surrounding.  

He sped up a bit more as he finally spotted what he was certain had to be the shop, the sign hanging far overhead making it near impossible to miss. Even if it was a bit smaller than what he was used to. 

Shizuma hardly resisted moving past Itachi and into the store by himself once they made it inside, the young Hoshigaki quick to do his dues and slide off his coat to add to the rack alongside theirs – his redampened hair shook off easily as he rubbed the borrowed shoes dry.  

He stood, cricketing his ankles impatiently as he peered towards the different sections of the store.  

“Sword first, then basic battle supplies?” Kisame suggested, earning an easy nod from Itachi and a low hum of agreement from their ward.  

The two watched as Shizuma immediately made his way over to the array of blades, his crystal blue eyes tracing over each and every one with interest. He leaned over the display case to see the weapons which had been laid out; his neck craning upwards in turn as he took in the impressive forms of the swords hung overhead. The various steels called out to him as he passed by each one, hands still tucked behind his back as he surveyed them. 

Various tanto blades lined the cases before him, both single and double sided – their prices ranging from cheap enough to buy with his lunch money to extravagant enough to be worth a week of his salary. Some plain and straight forward, others traced with beautiful designs he frankly had no need for.  

A wakizashi with just a smidge too much fabric on the sheath for his personal liking sat nearby. Which would be something he’d be willing to ignore, if not for his own dislike of the blade style in general. No, wakizashi blades were far too in the middle for his taste. Too short to do any real work with, too long to pass by quickly in silence... 

The tsurugi to his right...was one he knew but also did not care for. It was far too much of a hassle to handle, with minimal payoff for his style of combat. 

The kodachi was, again, fine enough for a short sword – though he hardly intended on choosing it as his main weapon. No, it wasn’t quite his style. Even if it would realistically be useful to have by his side given the enemies he would likely be fighting if he was going to be in such close proximity to Kisame and Itachi. Ideally, he should really have a short and long blade...one which would make it so he was neither defenseless on his own nor in their way if they had to fight within the same range... 

Katana, ninjato, chokuto. All good options. Long enough that he could do some damage while maneuvering himself with ease, edges that were both sharp and easy to maintain. The shop had a good number of handle styles as well, which was nice. Plain wood, leather, replaceable wrappings – all quite nice. 

He paused as he came to an impressive nodachi blade. Long as his person and hanging securely on a stand in the furthermost corner of the small sword section. A true beauty, hidden among the otherwise standard and limited options. Though perhaps he was a bit biased in that regard, considering he did hail from the mist... 

Regardless, however. 

He lifted it up carefully from its stand, keeping his footing steady as he ran his fingers over the sharp edges of the downcast blade. It shined with a silvery streak straight out of heaven as he held it outwards to look down its base, curving ever so slightly in just the right way the longer on it went.   

It’s handle, too, was magnificent – the leather wrapping protectively along the blade in a beautiful diamond design. One which would be quite easy to remove and reapply, should he need to refresh the grip as time went on... 

“I don’t think so, Shizuma.”  

Kisame’s voice cut through his admiration, the pre-teen's head bobbing up from where he was looking down the steel and towards the taller shinobi. He pouted a bit as he registered the elder’s words, lowering it but keeping it propped up beside him. He held onto its handle securely as he objected, “Why not? I told you, I’ll pay you back. It won’t be long before I find some sort of work.”  

He was well aware of the steep price tag attached at the handle, but really. It wasn’t near as bad as it could be, considering just how grand of a piece it was. 

Shizuma scowled lightly as Kisame headed over, slipping the weapon from Shizuma’s hold and leaning down a bit. He held the sword outwards into the air with one hand, then used his other to lift the younger Hoshigaki’s shoulder and arm.  

Shizuma glanced outwards towards his own arm, which hardly reached to a third of the blade.  

“...So what?” he dismissed, glancing elsewhere with his nose held stubbornly in the air.  

Kisame let out a low growlish sigh before planting the blade back in the ground beside him with a low sigh. He dropped Shizuma’s arm – only to instead linger his hand over the weapon and his younger clansmen's hair both. The sword reaching just a tad higher...  

“You’re a teacher, aren’t you? Surly you understand the importance of matching your weapon to your build.” Kisame reminded him patiently, eyes sweeping between Shizuma and the sword as he spoke.  

Shizuma glanced over to it himself, sizing it up for a moment before turning back to Kisame. His neck once more craned upwards, a low huff escaping his lips at the man’s persistence. “I do – and I know that I’ll be tall enough for it soon. I simply need another year or so and I’ll be just the right height. There’s no use in buying a weapon I’ll outgrow in months...I’m planning ahead.”  

“Would you accept just an excuse from your own student if they came to you with such reasoning?” Itachi finally pipped in, though his words were unfortunately not on his side this time. He stood by Kisame, brow quirked as they watched him carefully.  

Ah, why was everyone against him this week!? 

“I would if I knew they were mere months from a growth spurt...” he argued even as his head tilted down once more. “Besides, I’ve been using swords for a long time now. I’m already proficient with them, so I can handle having that slight disadvantage until I grow into it.”  

Itachi’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back, as though considering it briefly.  

Any hope Shizuma may have had for him changing his mind was short-lived, however, as the dark-haired man shook his head briefly a mere moment later. His eyes slipped closed once again as he found his resolve, his hands lingering heavy at either of his sides. “We can return for it later on. For now, you should pick a similar longsword that will fit your physique. This way Kisame can begin teaching you the basics of the more advanced forms and you can be prepared for the day you can efficiently use a blade such as this one.”  

The man’s dark eyes slowly came into view as he reopened them, voice all too calm despite the challenge in them as he asked somehow patiently and daringly all at once, “Unless you believe yourself good enough to not need Kisame’s teachings in the basics of the advanced forms, and would rather jump straight into combat practice with him?”  

Shizuma’s resolve wilted a bit at the suggestion, his cheeks reflexively puffing outwards only to deflate a mere second later as air flittered from his gills. He glanced from Itachi to Kisame, taking in the large form of the man. His too-bulky figure. His ridiculous chakra supply. His sword, which was just as long as the nodachi yet six or so times its width...that almost cheeky expression, looking all too ready to knock the arrogance out of him if he agreed to his partner’s suggestion. 

“...Fine, I’ll get a Katana or Chokuto for now.” Shizuma muttered, turning and ducting his head with a low huff. He dug his foot harshly into the ground below, fully prepared for either Kisame to start making fun of his cowardice once more or for Itachi to repeat his dissatisfaction with his supposed overzealousness.  

Neither came however, the elder Uchiha merely giving him a brief nod before turning to look towards the other weapons in question. Praising idly as he slowly approached them, “Those are fine choices – as well as ones I will be able to help with should Kisame become too busy some days.”  

Shizuma blinked as Kisame sat the sword back on its stand with one hand, using the other to briefly pat his head; as if they were in some sort of old-timey comic... 

The pre-teen huffed half-heartedly at this, turning and following the two away from the large sword and back towards the more reasonably sized ones. Swords he was certain he’d have no problem using, even if they were a bit different from the ones he was used to.  

His gaze flittered between the options, watching as Kisame and Itachi both seemed to toy with them as well. Lifting them from their displays without a second thought, twisting and turning them through the air while being careful not to hit any of the other displays.  

Shizuma half expected someone to come shout at them any minute now for their too-free use of the unpurchased weapons, though as time passed on, it worried him less and less. He supposed not many would be willing to scare shinobi like Kisame and Itachi out, yet still...he glanced around only once more before allowing himself to do the same – not seeing any signs specifically prohibiting it at the very least. 

He lifted a chokuto first, sliding it out of its protective case and turning it over in his hand.  

It was resoundingly fine.  

He took a few quick slices through the air, moving off to the side so he had free reign of the space surrounding. It sped through the air quite well, blunt and to the point as per its design. A fine choice, as Itachi had said. Yet...unimpressive. 

Shizuma slid it back into the case, then onto the display. Keeping it in mind, but hoping in the back of his mind that he could find something better. Perhaps he was a bit biased, considering how many sword shops he’d visited over the years, his standards far too high for this little shop in the middle of a nowhere nation... 

His shoulders sagged at the thought as he filtered through the katana options, holding up some of the longer ones. A small frown laced his lips as he compared the metal contents listed on each tag to the others in the case, the shorter ones sadly looking as though they had a better percentage overall. Unfortunate, considering how little reach they had in comparison and just how poorly they would suit his style of combat... 

Shizuma held a shorter one with preferable components in one hand, and another with weaker metal but greater reach in another. Comparing them side by side before switching to handling them individually, both roughly the same in terms of grip.  

His frown furthered as he felt Kisame come up from behind him, the taller Hoshigaki peering over his shoulder to see his current top picks. He turned to face the elder shinobi, back to holding one in each hand.  

Shizuma knew he really should hurry up and choose...that it was rude to spend so much time critiquing and sulking over what was, at its core, a gift from the two. Yet the idea of settling on a sword that didn’t feel comfortable in his hand – of returning to fighting with scrap metal once again after finally earning enough to buy himself a proper sword in his time...it left a terribly salty taste in his mouth. If only he had been able to bring along his own weapon. At least he was used to it. 

“A katana it is, then?” Kisame asked, gaze lingering on the two in hand as he seemed to consider them. “Fitting, for your physique and agility.”  

“Yes, I thought the same.” Shizuma agreed, planting both of them in front of him as he once more glanced at the tags – trying to decide if the range the longer one gave him was worth its less favorable build.  

Worst case scenario, his choice could mean life or death if he was forced to come to head with an enemy too much larger or stronger than him. How embarrassing it would be, to die due to his own inability to properly decide upon his weapon.  

His sword either snapped in half or tossed to the side, unable to protect him.  

“...They aren’t quite up to the quality you're used to, are they?” Kisame asked, a question Shizuma was sure he already had the answer to.  

After all, it wasn’t as though it was only he who hailed from the mist. 

“They’re certainly...styled differently.” Shizuma let out a low huff, not intending to spit down upon their gift, yet utterly unable to agree more with the man’s words. This was why he hated leaving the mist...no true swordsmith would have been caught dead selling such shabby weapons even in his time, where the art was unfortunately becoming more and more for show as the years went on. He clicked his tongue lightly, “I suppose I’ll simply have to get used to them, however.”  

Perhaps compensating with ninjutsu and taijutsu would work, for the time being. At least until the two got assigned a mission near Kirigakure and he had the chance to find a more suitable one.  

“I’m sure you will, in time.” Kisame nodded after a long moment, supplying, “Even if these are of an inferior build compared to the blades of Kiri...they’re still suitable enough – wonderful weapons, in the eyes of the other four nations.”  

Easy for him to say, Shizuma sulked mildly even as he nodded along. He was the one holding one of the legitimately best and most legendary swords in all the lands. 

“Besides, it is as Itachi says. This is merely a temporary weapon meant for training and standard travel. There is still plenty of time for you to find a weapon which you intend to keep by your side for all time.” Kisame mused, beady white eyes casting down to look between the two katana right alongside Shizuma. 

A short yellow-shealthed one to his left, and a vibrant red one to his right.  

...The younger Hoshigaki gave a light nod as he listened to the elder’s words, considering them briefly before reluctantly setting the shorter one back and holding onto the red one.  

After all, he had to remind himself, speed was his specialty. So long as his skills remained up to par, there was no reason to fear his sword faltering...and besides, if it came down to his sword being the smaller of the two, that likely meant his enemy was larger than him anyway. So his speed and flexibility would be his crunch regardless... 

Yes, this would do fine, he decided as he maneuvered the sword around a bit in the small open area of the shop. It was a good sword, one quite like the one he had back home, if a bit lower in quality. He looked to Kisame out of the corner of his eye as he sheathed it, shaking off the last ounces of objection to the weapon. 

It didn’t matter which he chose, he reminded himself. 

He was going to be learning from Kisame Hoshigaki, so there wasn’t a chance in hell he would come out of this whole ordeal worse for wear. 

He was going to be a magnificent swordsmen. One which would make the true Kirigakure proud.  

“Then this is the one I’d like, if it’s quite alright?” he asked as he looked up at his elder clansmen - his lips quirking upwards as his resolve settled.  

Chapter Text

Shizuma stood, pleased, by Kisame’s side. 

The two watched as Itachi shifted from left to right, then up and down on each and every shelf. Plucking weapon after weapon as they watched, unconcerned with the steadily overflowing basket in his arms. 

Kunai.  

Shuriken.  

Tag bases.  

Bomb bases.  

Senbon.  

Ninja wire. 

Shizuma watched as he placed each and every one in the basket, the pre-teen's sword held idly to the ground as he considered each one. He was proficient enough in most, besides the ninja wire – but then, he had always thought it looked quite useful. Particularly when it came to information extraction, he was sure... 

An empty sealing scroll. 

New combat shoes.  

A medical pouch.  

Underarmour. 

...Quickly, the pile grew, and the idea of paying them back became less and less appealing. He would keep to his word, of course, but... 

“Shizuma. Are these the correct sizes?” Itachi asked, holding the shoes and protective underlayer out in each hand. His red eyes bored, unflinching as he prepared to empty their foreword pay in mere moments.  

A steady reversal, compared to the fuss they’d made over his supposedly extravagant amount of lunch money yesterday.  

“...Yes, they are.” he nodded along despite his own thoughts, finding that the man had indeed correctly guessed his size. He supposed that was the power of eyes so sharp...though it seemed a bit overkill to use something like the sharingan to make an estimate rather than simply asking him...  

Silently, he half-pouted as he watched Itachi begin to make his way over the the salesman behind the counter. When was it his turn to be blessed with those eyes? Did he even have enough Uchiha blood in him to manage it? If it was Orochimaru’s original plan, he should in theory...yet he wasn’t quite ready to bank on the man’s realism in his experiments either.  

He was sure that it would cause problems down the line if anyone back home spotted it. That much he wasn’t foolish enough to deny. But even so...the sheer advantage such a dojutsu would give him.  

He was already beyond quick. With it, he doubted there would be much holding him back. Buntan would no doubt be displeased with it, but that was hardly an unfair price to pay for power so great.  

“Wonderful. We’ll be all set once those wounds of yours heal then.” Kisame mused by his side as they watched Itachi pay, heavy arm resting on Shizuma’s head as he looked down at the younger Hoshigaki. “A mere week or so I’d say, if we continue to treat your injury day by day. Then we’ll be able to make you into a proper shinobi, yes?” 

His beady white eyes all too amused as Shizuma glowered up at him from under his arm.  

He was already a proper shinobi! Perhaps not to their caliber, but he had at least some experience under his belt! Skills he had been unable to show them during the fight, skills that had been hindered by his chest wound. Yet still he spoke so lowly of him - as though he were a lowly academy student... 

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed up at the elder. 

...On one hand, he supposed if anyone had the right to be so arrogant, it was them...but on the other, it didn’t leave him any less annoyed.  

“Yes.” he clicked his tongue politely after a split second despite his objections, shoving down his complaints for now and instead looking up at the elder with a steady gaze. Impatient, perhaps, but well aware that Itachi was too far away to scold him for it at the moment. “Until then?”  

Unsure of what they would be doing in the meantime, and itching to know. Since they seemed so sure they had everything figured out... 

Kisame’s eyes narrowed in turn from above, the front of his hand which dangled over his head reaching down to drum repeatedly against his forehead as he mused, “Itachi will be having some quality time with the backlogged paperwork, I will be tending to the overdue weapon room, and you will be resting.” 

Eh? 

“I can help.” Shizuma scowled a bit at the idea of being stuck in that room for the next week, bristling slightly as he made the offer. “I am able to handle some paperwork if I'm shown how, and weapons- ack.”  

His words were cut off as Kisame pinched his nose loosely between his fingers, Shizuma’s eyes pulling shut with a low hiss. “I do believe you’ve been told not to meddle in Akatsuki business. That includes trying to worm your way into it.”  

As if he had waltzed up to Konan demanding he be assigned missions! How dramatic!  

He merely wanted to keep himself entertained – and perhaps, while he was there – get a tiny peer into things.  

Just a vague idea, really.  

A little itty-bitty sight into the way things were set to go.  

A small indicator of his current circumstances. That was all.  

Surly nothing big enough to warrant such treatment! 

“I’m not!” Shizuma argued, the gills on his cheeks puffing outwards as he scowled at the other. His voice wavering only slightly at the ridiculous tone it took under the pressure of Kisame’s hands... “Besides, if not paperwork, how am I meant to do such things by merely tending to weapons? You don’t expect them to be whispering secrets to me, do you?”  

He kept his stance firm even as Kisame let out a low huff of half-amusement half-exasperation, releasing his nose and lifting his arm. “No, I suppose not.” he mused in consideration before shaking his head, “Though, it’s beside the point. I have no intentions of waiting a month for you to heal simply because you could not be bothered to take the proper time for it during the first week.”  

Forced into bedrest like a damned child. How obnoxious, he mulled, rubbing his now tender nose with the back of his free hand. 

As though a little sword grease would do him in... 

“...Why is he sulking now?” Itachi let out a long sigh as he made his way over, handing the bag of weapons to Kisame who now held all five in one hand. Shizuma scowled at the question, holding his sword out as the clerk came over to de-activate the anti-theft seal.  

“I am not sulking.” he reiterated, even as Itachi’s brow rose doubtfully. He held the man’s gaze for only a moment before retreating, his eyes shifting away from him and off to the side as a bit of heat ran up his face. 

Embarrassed slightly by his apparent uncooperativeness towards those who were showing him such indulgence by offering to train him and buying him such nice things...yet embarrassed more-so by his own inability to repay them in any meaningful way.  

Accepting such nice, unconditioned, and unearned things made his skin crawl! He decidedly did not care for it, in the least! 

It made him feel like a damn brat. 

“I’m only saying.” he continued, treading carefully even as Kisame let out a low sigh of his own – his gaze steady on the elder Hoshigaki as he tried his best to sway things his way with an appeasing tone, “It’s not as if I can sleep for a week straight. I will have to be awake at some point during the day, so you might as well give me something to do rather than wasting the extra pair of hands.”  

Paperwork, training, weapon maintenance, anything would do! Even if he was barred from the more delicate matters and left without answers for now, he did not wish to sit idly! 

“We have no intentions of locking you back up in the room, if that’s your concern.” Itachi dismissed off to the side, turning and flexing his fingers in a motion to follow as he headed towards the front of the store to retrieve his coat. “Kisame cleared the spare room this morning, and if things have gone as they should, the furniture should be prepared by the time we return. Your room will be ready, and thus, you’ll have plenty of things to focus on putting away and arranging as you see fit. I have also prepared a few documents you will need to look over thoroughly as well.”  

...So much for waiting until he woke up and giving him a chance to backtrack on his acceptance. He hadn’t, of course, but still...to empty out the room beforehand was a bit of a leap. Was he so obvious? Or was Kisame simply having way too much fun with this whole ordeal... 

Shizuma mulled over it with a light huff as he followed Itachi’s lead, Kisame slow on their trail as they continued on down the road with their coats once more adorned.  

After a moment, he decided, he probably shouldn’t complain any for now, seeing as it worked in his favor. Though, his latter words did open up an entirely know array of questions.  

“Such as?” he asked, head tilted slightly in interest as his hand toyed with the handle of his new weapon. Trying to imagine what exactly there was left that he may need to look through...something that would take up an enough time to keep him busy for the next week.  

He watched idly as Itachi’s ponytail steadily stopped in its swaying, the water which came down on them drenching it into place.  

His own hand reached up to toy idly with his dark curls as Itachi spoke from ahead, “A collection of notes I’ve written in regard to the Uchiha clan. Information which should be known by the next generation, once I am gone. Information I expect you to pass on should you have your own children someday...as well as to your cousins, should any ever be produced.”  

Shizuma blinked briefly at the elder’s words.  

His children and cousins, huh?  

A litter of his own...little mini-me's to carry on the legacy he hoped to one day make. Small mimicries' of both himself and someone he loved enough to want to see their reflection in his spawn.  

Who would even be able to fill such a roll? Buntan? Ichirōta? Someone he had not yet met?  

Shizuma flustered mildly at the very idea, shaking it off.  

Ah, how ridiculous.  

He had many years of work ahead before he had to worry about such things. Many layers of legacy to build. Much effort to put forth, to change Kirigakure into a land they could live in contently.  

It was all a far, far ways away – but should the day ever come, he would do as Itachi asked, he amended silently to himself. He would make sure things were passed on, and that he himself remembered them well. 

Though...as far as cousins went...that may be a bit more difficult. 

“That girl...” he mumbled lightly to himself, brows furrowing in distain as he tugged a bit harder at his front curls. What a pain it would be to track them down. Surely, he wouldn’t need to, all things considered? Not when she had her own father to speak with. "...Must I?"

He frowned,  keeping his eyes on the elder as he turned the unpleasant thought round and round with no shortage of annoyance. 

“Hm? What girl?” Kisame pressed on behalf of Itachi, swinging the bags lightly by his side as they finally made it back to the hideout. He poked his nose in the conversation all too easily, musing as they began to slip off their shoes and then coats in the building’s entryway, “Our future daughter-in-law?” 

He nudged Shizuma with his elbow, the younger nearly toppling as he reflexively shoved Kisame back to no avail.  

“Don’t be nasty.” he grumbled when the other didn’t so much as budge, shaking the water from his hair as he finally lowered his hands. “I’m speaking of the girl, I suppose, would be my cousin.”  

Itachi’s eyes swept over towards him as he spoke, Shizuma’s spine stiffening a bit as the elder's expression seemed to fall flat yet sparked with all the intensity of a typhoon in an instant. 

It locked down and into that same cold look he had seen out on the docks, the one so utterly unlike the almost relaxed one he had held throughout the day. 

Both were quiet and calm, yet this one...it felt significantly more dangerous.  

Shizuma kept his eyes pulled off to the side, his thumb rubbing idly against the handle of his sword even as he let out a small puff of air - refusing to let his nerves show. 

“...So Sasuke will have a daughter, then?” Itachi asked with mild interest at best, his tone a sharp contrast to his expression as he finally spoke after a long moment. 

Kisame’s almost weary glance towards his partner left little room for comfort, the playfulness melting off the elder Hoshigaki’s face as he watched his partner so carefully with something akin to worry or concern.  

Once more, it left Shizuma feeling as though there was something unspoken in the air. Something neither seemed interested in sharing.  

“...Yes. I believe so, if I understand correctly." Shizuma nodded, forcing his words to remain firm. "He and his wife seemed to be on a trip of sorts while she was pregnant with his child a few years back from my current day. They came to Kirigakure when I was about...six or seven? To visit the resting spot of Zabuza and Haku.” he squinted slightly, trying to recall the exact details even as he saw Kisame frown thinly by his side. The two’s eyes lingered on him, the air shifting along with the conversation. “I can’t claim to know whether that child made it or not, however, I did look into them a few years later – once I had better access to the information channels – and she did have a young daughter. More likely than not, the same one she was carrying then.” 

Information he had learned on a whim, and nothing more, yet now seemed to register heavily in Itachi’s mind. 

“I see.” Itachi nodded lightly, glancing him over briefly. Shizuma could feel something in his stomach drop further at the gaze, his hand tightening slightly against the sword.  

It was so horribly uncomfortable, not being able to get a read on the other. He had almost thought he had begun to today, yet now he had his doubts.  

To ask him to look after his cousin, then regard the concept so coldly a mere minute later...it made no sense.  

Did Itachi hate her as an extension of her father? Or did he find interest in her as a member of their clan? Did he think of her with distain, or affection? With notice, or boredom?  

Did he think of her the same way he thought of him?  

The very idea was unhelpful, considering he didn’t yet have an answer for that much either. 

Even now, he couldn’t help but be confused by the man’s read on him. Not to mention the man himself. 

How could he be so eager to pass on his clan’s name and values - as though he hadn’t been the one to end them to begin with?

“Yet you did not approach them, even so.” Itachi sighed lightly, hand reaching up to massage the center of his own forehead as he spoke. As though he were caught between disappointment and frustration over the very idea. “Were you truly so loyal to Kirigakure, at even that age?” 

“Hm?” Shizuma frowned, considering the elder shinobi’s words only briefly before reluctantly shaking his head. His shoulders still stiff despite the slight ease of Itachi’s brow, the elder's demeanor turning less and less severe as he seemed to appraise Shizuma.  

The pre-teen bit his tongue, slowly turning his head back to look at the other as he saw Kisame pass him by to set his hand on Itachi’s shoulder. Easing the missing-nin's coldness further and further in, calming the dangerous aura which he had nearly forgotten about in the face of his tolerance throughout the day.  

Shizuma wondered, mildly, as Kisame so carefully regarded Itachi, whether it was that coldness which had allowed him to slice through the rest of the clan. As well as whether he should have simply nodded along for now, objections be damned.

He supposed it made sense, after all, for family to be a touchy subject for Itachi. No matter how he seemed to want to speak of it – his eyes still lingering on Shizuma for an explanation he didn’t quite know how to give without further stumbling along the thin line in the sand he hadn’t actually managed to find yet.  

“I did not think it wise to push my luck.” he attempted to put it as plainly as possibly, brows furrowing even as Itachi's severity seemed to ease bit by bit. “When I was let out of Orochimaru’s lab, it was alongside dozens of others, by the hands of his squad. It was on his order, yet it was not him directly. He did not know, precisely, what he was doing. And I was not...certain, he would have done the same had he known I was a clone of the person he sought to kill.”  

After all, he of all people was able to understand the basic concept of a generational grudge.  

Nor was he sure he would have been able to live day in and day out with the man responsible for the death of a man he so admired, if he were to be honest. 

“...I suppose he might not have.” Itachi spoke after a long moment, Kisame’s mere proximity around him seeming to pull the last of the cutting coldness from his body. The man let out a long sigh, as if steadying himself as he amended, “Though, I can hardly say. He has always been too kind for his own good...to be frank, I’m still a bit impressed he had the gall to go through with confronting me.”  

There was something almost snarkily amused to his tone, his head shaking back and forth loosely even as Kisame seemed to take on some of the dark aura he lost... 

Shizuma’s fingers gripped further to the top of his weapon as he watched them, frowning as he continued to bite his tongue. 

Perhaps he was amused as he now had the upper hand? A way to make it so he would be the final victor? But then why in the world did Kisame look so forlorn...surely, he wanted his partner to live on? 

Shizuma wasn’t certain, though he himself did feel his own mood sour a bit at the idea. 

...He wanted Itachi and Kisame to live on in this world, yes, and knew that the information he gave was bound to change much about the future...yet...it was another ordeal completely to consider things face-to-face. 

Would that woman never become pregnant? 

Would the him of this world ever escape Orochimaru?  

Did the him of this world even exist anymore, with his soul now on the same plane? 

Would Kisame and Itachi be there, in the future? Or would they be off somewhere else?  

When he returned, would it be with an array of new memories he had never truly lived through? Or with an array of gaps and holes he couldn’t quite fit? 

It all was a bit much, he had to admit.  

“...Ah, yes, but such things are in the past for you. So allow it to be of our concern for now, Shizuma.” Kisame cut through their respective silence, the hand on Itachi’s shoulder giving one final squeeze before he turned – lifting the opposite arm up and into the air as he spoke with a clearly only half-true grin. “You have other matters to tend to for the night, after all.” 

Chapter Text

Shizuma slid his sword into the loops of his borrowed pants, reaching out to accept the array of bags as Kisame all but tossed them over. They hung heavy in his grasp, his shoulders tugged down a bit by the weight even as he felt himself pushed along by a hand on the center of his back.  

“It’s the one directly to the right of our room…we’ll be there in just a moment. Until then, I imagine you can manage?” his head crooked to the side as Shizuma let out a low huff – the younger Hoshigaki forcing the unease from his body as he once more lifted his chin. 

“Yes, yes. I’m plenty capable. I’m twelve, not five.” he dismissed with perhaps a bit more bravo than he felt before the two’s unreadable faces, beginning to slowly make his way further and further down the hallway as he spoke. 

Once again, so utterly confused by the dark-haired man from Konoha.

Unable to tell whether he had gathered the man’s ire or not. 

Unsure if he was angry, upset, or merely disappointed with the news he brought. 

Uncertain whether the man was filled with slight annoyance or a great bloodlust...his bland yet piercing expression sending needles down Shizuma’s spine even as he left the two behind step by step. 

His eyes narrowed in a mix of confusion and weariness as his thoughts began to drift back towards the dock, to the last time he’d seen the look in all its severity and seriousness. 

From the slight easing of Itachi’s hand around his jaw, to the slim fingers which had immediately re-tightened to a grip ten times as painful mere seconds later. To the cold, crushing presence he had been certain meant to end him. 

All at the mere mention of his brother, at the brief assumption that he had been his son. 

...Shizuma silently added Sasuke to the slowly growing list of topics to avoid, right alongside his own plans regarding Kiri – his tongue pinching between his teeth as he considered it with no shortage of his own annoyance.  

Itachi was so eager to learn of the future, yet so unsatisfied to hear of it. No matter how closely the response he got aligned with what he seemed to want.  

He grew somber and serious at the mention of Sasuke...ready to crush his jaw at the mere thought that they could be related. Yet asked him to pass on his words to his cousin - even growing frustrated with him for not attempting to follow the man back to Konohagakure... 

He so clearly held hate in his heart for the villages, to be a missing-nin, yet spoke down to him with such displeasure at the mention of his plans. Unwilling to even consider the ways in which Shizuma meant to help his allies and self alike by turning that rotten home on its head. Able to see the foulness within the village, but unhappy with the idea of gutting it.  

It made it all but impossible to measure where the other stood with him. His dark eyes all but boring through Shizuma - filling his heart with a terror he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in many, many years. Weakening his knees as though he were a mere child. 

As though he were not the leader of nearly a dozen others back home. As though he were not working so hard to fix his village, to make it into something they could all revel in rather than abandoning it. As though he hadn’t done so, so much to- as if he hadn’t spent years of his life trying to- In order to make all the shinobi of the past, that was- 

He fumed silently, a dust of blue climbing up his collar as his gills snapped open and closed in agitation he wouldn’t quite admit to.  

“Urg. Of course there room is near the end of the hallway.” he mumbled briefly to himself, walking slowly down the corridor as he shook his head with narrowed eyes. Shaking them off, lest he make a further fool of himself by growing emotional over the man’s mere aura. He would be no better than a damn child tearing up after being caught in another’s foul mood had he allowed that to be the case. 

His eyes remained trained in front of him, narrowed and unflinching on the ground ahead as a brief headache took over. Even as Sasori emerged from his own quarters and moved along the opposite side of the hall, silent as could be.  

At the very least, just as content to ignore Shizuma as he was to ignore him. Something which both served to fill him with relief and additional annoyance all at once as they passed by one another.  

He shifted the bags to one hand in front of the bedroom door, biting down on the flurry of agitation to instead focus on the matter at hand. Smoothing over his urge to grind his teeth and instead allowing his gaze to flicker between the door and his own hands.  

How had Kisame managed to walk so effortlessly through the rain with these pounds of merchandise?  

It was borderline unfair. He trained plenty hard, and yet still he was left tilting a bit to the side as he used his free hand to twist the knob and make his way in.  

Just what sort of methods had the man used to grow so strong? Would they work on him? Or would he need to follow a regimen that more closely mimicked Itachi’s? He really rather not have to sacrifice his speed for strength’s sake, though he supposed he had little room to make demands in their arrangement… 

The thoughts buzzed around in his mind as he slipped into the room, making quick work of tossing the still damp bags on the empty bookshelf to his left. He shut the door behind him once his hands were free before rotating, flopping unceremoniously on the large bed.  

Shizuma looked up at the light hanging overhead, reaching up to lightly rub his chest wound as he frowned thinly.  

Ah, what a mess he was in. 

Shizuma rolled over and onto his stomach, hiding his face in the navy blues of the bedspread. So large and fluffy, so utterly unlike the bed he had spent the last few years falling asleep in. So very fresh, without a single speck of the familiar wear and tear from times before he had learned to properly care for the things he wished to keep by his side.  

Lightly, he lifted his chin, letting out a low huff.  

He supposed he should put his things away rather than dawdle with such pointless comparisons - and stop messing with the skin near his stitches.  

Kisame had been right, after all. The last thing they needed was him sabotaging his own recovery and causing them to fall behind. He had no interest in delaying his training any further than it already had to be, nor did he wish to have to travel with such a wound if they were called away on a mission.  

No, he needed to collect himself. To stop fooling around and take this seriously in both body and mind.  To stop poking and prodding at wild beasts and being surprised when they inevitably grew agitated.  

Shizuma reached up, rubbing the sides of his face before rolling over and back onto his rear. He leaned forward, taking the bags from the shelf and onto the bed. Finding that they were somehow already dry despite only just leaving the rain.  

How odd.  

He began to dump them out one by one, gaze shifting from one thing to another and feeling as the obnoxious pain in his heart from earlier doubled. 

He tucked the dark hairbrush they had chosen for him below his chin, a long sigh escaping his gills as his eyes lingered on the many things before him. Scowling, ever so slightly.  

Hair ties. Nail clippers. Towels. Soaps for his hair and body. Deodorant. Toothpaste. Toothbrush. Floss. Mouthwash. A travel pack. A notebook and pen. A water bottle. Clothes. Shoes. Basic medic’s bag. Weapons.  

It was all entirely too much, for a duo Shizuma wasn’t yet convinced actually liked him all that much. At the very least as far as Itachi went, anyway. Though he’d hardly put any bets on Kisame, either...their words and actions at times clashing just a bit too much with their tones and expressions for him to be able to truly tell.  

Shizuma sat the brush down and slid off the side of the bed, shaking his head once more.  

He supposed it didn’t matter all that much. So long as they were still willing to teach him all he wished to know and keep him alive until he could make it back...he’d behave on their terms. No matter how vague. 

He was not a damn dog, after all. He would not perish if they did not like him.  

Such a thing had never been part of their deal, anyway. They had merely said they would teach him if he stayed as their ward. Their tricky words of affection and boundless attention aside, that much had not changed. He had simply...gotten ahead of himself once more, that was it.  

More likely than not, he’d simply stumbled into a trap of theirs. Yes, that was likely the case.  

Their sappy words and oddly friendly touches were little more than honey meant to lure him in. To test him and see how much of a fool they had unknowingly bred. A simple experiment to check and see how swiftly he would cave and how easily he could be cowed. Nothing more.  

It explained it all. Each and every gap in their act he’d spotted. 

He just had to show them that he had not fallen for it. That he was smarter and stronger than that – worth having as their student rather than a mere dog at their feet. It was not too late.  

Swiftly, he nodded to himself, making haste in putting his things away as if to prove a point.  

He folded his shirts and pants neatly into the top drawer of his dresser right alongside his underclothing and socks. Sat his array of hygiene items and hair pieces in the second. Lined his weapons in the third along with his medical bag and notebook. Left the bottom two empty, should he need them. 

Easily he moved from one to another, shutting each drawer until everything he owned was left in its rightful spot. His bingo books and cash left atop for the moment, just as he lifted his sword to lay on his bed.  

Shizuma paused only momentarily before reaching over to lock his door, lifting his shirt over his head and slipping off the borrowed pair of clothes. He folded them off to the side, settling into a pair of his new clothes instead. The sleeveless burgundy shirt fit easily over his head, the dark pants he had chosen to match doing quite the same with his legs. 

He changed in a matter of seconds, unlocking the door soon after and returning to his previous endeavors. Shizuma slipped a few shuriken and senbon into his sleeve, setting the kunai on the inner part of his weapon’s belt for now. Leaving the tags and bomb bases behind as he hadn’t yet had a moment to properly weave his seals into them.  

...He went ahead and tied his medical pouch around the inside of his pants as well, leaving it on his leg just in case he found himself caught off guard. 

Crystal blue eyes glanced up and down his form as he stood in the room, the young shinobi taking himself in as he gathered himself. Lightly, he held up his arms, huffing a bit at the river of unruly curls which ran down his chest.  

He had better take care of that while the chance presented itself.  

Shizuma reached out, taking the brush from his drawer alongside one of the hair bands he had been given. He slipped the band onto his wrist with one hand, using the other to begin carefully brushing through his hair from bottom to top. Working slowly and carefully until at last it was manageable enough to tie into a ponytail.  

He shifted his head from left to right, feeling as that same odd bundle of hair tried to slide its way out. A low huff escaping his lips as he reached up to card his way through his hair, releasing it and allowing it to settle as bangs for now. Without his headband, there was really no use in trying otherwise.  

With that, he cleaned out his hairbrush, tossing the loosened hairs into the waste basket beside his dresser and putting his brush back in. His databooks and cash were retrieved in turn, his pockets once more filling as he plopped down on the bed.  

His gaze shifting through the room from top to bottom, taking it all in as he crossed his legs and left his hands within his pockets. Taking in the spacious bed, the window and bookcase to his left, the dresser ahead, the trash can beside it, the chest ahead of his bed...everything near identical to the former room.  

The only oddity left being, once again, where the former two had gone. 

“We’ll be there in just a minute.” he mumbled to himself with a light roll of his eyes, lifting himself up from his bed and folding his hands idly behind his back. Glancing between the door and himself, eyes narrowing as he debated on whether to go and seek out the two. 

No, it was probably best not to, he decided after a long moment.  

Not if he wanted to prove to them that he had caught and understood their test, even if it had all but taken Itachi hitting him over the head with his disappointment and frustration for it to happen.  

He would show them that he was plenty capable of listening and learning from them as a good student, of taking in their lessons as a shinobi rather than a weak little welp clinging to any sight of attention. To do that, he needed to keep himself occupied and efficient on his own even without their instruction...which in this case would be...ah, yes, he should work on tending to his wound. That was it.  

Shizuma climbed over and onto his bed, once more shedding his shirt as he pulled out his weapons pouch. Beginning to clean and disinfect the wound for the day, tending to the stitches which had loosened throughout the day. 

He carried on slowly, careful with each movement until he was fully content with the results.  

His shirt slipped back on as he finished, leaving him once more with little to do... 

Ah, what else was there? His weapons were not yet dirty enough to warrant cleaning or sharpening, his room was settled, his injuries were tended to, he had his borrowed things ready to return... 

Slowly, he sat back down on the bed, eyes lingering on the window.  

What else was there to do? How else could he prove that he had himself in order?  

He sat, considering it as he carded lightly through his ponytail, eyes set on the unseeable view before him – the rain outside rendering the window near useless as he watched... 

Time passed on at a dreadfully slow rate as he waited, trying to find any gaps he had left. He only gave up as the door finally creaked open from his side, the near silent noise piercing through his focus in an instant. 

Shizuma’s head turned, eyes casting over and up to the shadow of a man lingering in his doorway. Itachi remained rigid where he stood as their eyes locked, Shizuma’s own twitching a bit at the sheer effort such a thing required.  

…It seemed Kisame had not followed the man this time, occupied with other matters or otherwise uninterested in the ordeal. Not there this time to smooth over the tension in the room as he had been the last time Itachi and he found themselves on unlevel footing post-ire. 

An issue Itachi himself didn’t seem to have an interest in rectifying, based on the way he stood stiffly in the doorway. Watching him ever so steadily.  

Waiting for an apology, perhaps? Repentance for his whining at the thought of having to seek out his cousin? Or for his inability to see his test for what it was. A chance, maybe, to make amends for his swift failings as a student. 

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought as the two eyed one another, hands holding firm by his side as he held the edge of the bed.  

He used this grip to leverage himself, lifting his legs from their crossed position to press against the mattress – pushing outwards with just a speck of chakra to leap from one side of the bed to floor beside the other. 

His eyes creased closed as he did so, landing on the other side with a wry smile as he added the bit of distance.  

His knees rested easily on the floor, arms reaching upwards and crossing to cushion his tilted head as he watched Itachi from the new vantage point. 

Careful as he treaded the thin, thin, line between obedience and competency. Refusing to roll over, yet yielding his neck all the same.  

“Hm, no Kisame?” he asked mildly, eyes reopening but merely lingering in the others general direction rather than making eye contact. Crossing over the rims of the red clouds Itachi once more adorned…only moments after removing them. 

His fingers curling idly into the bedspread as he watched the fabric of Itachi’s coat shift, the man’s hand pressing lightly against the wooden door to click it shut. Movements slow, as if preparing to corner and gut an animal.  

“…No, Kisame is busy with other matters.” Itachi spoke after a moment, hands lowering back to his side as he began making his way slowly through the room. “Though, it’s given us a moment to speak, so I suppose it works well in the end.” 

Shizuma’s grip tightened against the bed, his eyes narrowing as he focused hard on fabric clouds which paused before him. Feeling just a tad like he had been purposefully left for slaughter, unable to help doubting the sincerity of Kisame’s business as he leaned further into the mattress.  

“Oh? What of?” he asked however, playing along carefully as he kept his tone steady. The senbon in his sleeve itching relentlessly as the taller man made his way over. His mind snapping in every which direction as he tried to find the words he needed. Words to convey the realization he had come to. 

His eyes lingered on the other’s unmoving form for only a moment longer before he dared to cast his eyes upwards, his smile tightening on his lips the longer the silence stretched on. The blank, almost hollow look the elder cast down upon him turning his stomach horribly.  

It didn’t quite fit into any of the boxes Shizuma had managed to identify thus far.  

It was not the cold and piercing one from the dock. 

It was not the short and condescending one from the discussion in their room.  

It was not the quiet and fond one which only seemed to appear when Kisame was near. 

It was simply. Blank. Like the man himself wasn’t quite sure which box to pull from as he considered Shizuma’s question.  

…The younger rubbed his fingers idly against the senbon in his sleeve as their stare-off continued, keeping himself steadied even as his heart threatened to burst in his ears the longer he kept on. Stomping down the voice in the back of his mind which begged him to back down and yield, keeping his stance and refusing to waver as the test carried on throughout the- 

Shizuma twitched as a long sigh left the man above, dark eyes slipping shut as he tilted his head back in thought. The noise somewhere between tired and agitated as he seemed to decide upon one of the latter two boxes. 

A long moment passed as Shizuma watched Itachi, his own blue eyes narrowing further as he scanned the elder’s face for any sign of an answer. His shoulders stiff, ready to either lash outwards or rebound further back if the other opted to make a move for him.  

He only hardly resisted the reflex as Itachi’s head lowered back to its prior position, hands loose by his side as he settled down on the bed in one short, clipped movement.  

The man’s hands smoothed over his legs, running along the lower half of his coat as his focus seemed to slip away from the younger and back towards his own thoughts.  

Shizuma receded slightly into his spot, his arms sinking further into the too-soft sheets as he peered over them and towards the still not quite readable shinobi. Silently demanding he spit his answer out, any built up ire or annoyance be damned. He might as well get it over with instead of simply taunting him with his lingering displeasure.  

“Come.” Itachi’s voice sounded far too exhausted as he finally spoke, completely ignoring Shizuma’s question to instead motion him forward with one free hand. Shizuma’s stiff, on edge smile faltered at the command - eyes darting from Itachi’s face as the man finally turned his attention back to him. 

Shizuma sat up from his spot leaning against the bed, his hands falling to his lap as he shifted further away. His eyes sharp as they cut between the elder shinobi and the hand currently motioning him forward. Beckoning him towards his lap in a damningly easy movement.  

The young Hoshigaki stared at the hand, his smile fully fallen as he watched the other flatly. His heart booming in his ears as his fingers curled into the fabric of his own pants.  

What was his angle? 

Did he mean to taunt him? To echo the words he had spoken in that room and to Kisame mere hours ago? Words that must have been relayed only moments ago. Did he mean to call him out for the lap dog that they saw him as; to mock his quickness to fall into their trap. To remind him of how very lowly they saw him. Of-  

“Shizuma.” Itachi sighed once more, reaching out to tug him forward ever so lightly - pulling him by the bicep until he was leaning on his lap just as he had been the bed mere moments ago. Shizuma’s flat look fell into a frown as he moved along, hissing slightly even as he moved with the guiding hands. “You’ll think a hole through me at this rate.” 

His skin felt like it was on fire as the elder shinobi began running unsettlingly gentle hands across his knuckles, chin tilting up reluctantly to look up at Itachi as his gills shuttered reflexively. He resisted the urge to jerk his head away from the lap it had been placed in, his hands twitching under the other’s hold. 

No, no, no, no! He was not a blindly clingy lap dog which needed tended to, he was not so weak, he was not-! 

“ Shizuma .” Itachi reiterated, the hands holding his own tightening as he frowned down at him with furrowed brows, “Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop it .” 

“I- That is- I noticed- I apologize-“ Shizuma's tongue tied horribly despite his words, his head jerking back even as it remained set on Itachi’s knee. “It was not my intention to-“ 

Shizuma’s frown melted further into a scowl as Itachi lifted a hand, reaching down to hold his cheeks between his fingers. He squished his face without any real force all the while his own remained flat, dark eyes steady as he looked down upon him with a mildly scolding tone. “Do not try to sway me with such soft, pathetic words. Especially if you do not mean them. You-“ 

Shizuma’s scowl deepened as he cut the other off, the hand not being held thumping against Itachi’s knee in outrage. “I’m- I am neither soft nor pathetic!” he objected, brows furrowing up at the elder as his only half sincere apology was interrupted. Perhaps not so sincere in his apology as he was upset with himself for falling for their tricks, but needing to convey his notice of the test all the same.  

“No, you’re not. Which is why I don’t see why you’re acting as though you are. Retreating so swiftly when I know you’re plenty capable of standing your ground.” Itachi shook his head, the hand on his mouth lifting to instead rest on his head. Rubbing his scalp, as though it would ease the anger aching in his bones. “Just listen for a moment. Allow me to say what I came in here to say, then if you still have something to add, you may. Agreed?” 

“…Agreed.” Shizuma grumbled out after a terribly long moment, allowing his head to lay limp in Itachi’s lap as the man continued shifting his hands over his knuckle and hair. His stomach turning horribly, eyes narrowed towards nothing in particular as he bit down the urge to argue. 

Itachi’s praise held in careful regard as he debated its sincerity.  

“…It was not my intention to make you uneasy.” Itachi began, not so much as blinking as Shizuma tilted his head to send a weary glare upwards at the perceived slight. “I allowed myself to be caught up in the matters at hand and become short with you. It was unfair, and you have my apologies.”  

His dark eyes seemed to stare though Shizuma’s soul as a long, unpleasant silence followed his words, the pre-teen’s own eyes peering up to meet his as he sat half-buried in the fabric of the man’s coat. Shizuma’s shoulders stiff as he did his best to dig his heels to the ground. Refusing to be swayed by the false words a second time.  

“I was not. Uneasy.” He denied, keeping his gaze steady on the elder. His lips feeling all too dry as he attempted to explain away the pit in his stomach, “I simply…I was merely…” 

“You would have been right to be.” Itachi spared him from his attempts, his hand lifting from Shizuma’s knuckles to smooth over his hair with both hands. “After all, it’s not as though you have any true reason to put your trust in me. Not when I’ve taken so much from you years before you were even born. Not when I’ve continued time and time again over the last few days to look upon you with a gaze which was meant for another.”   

Itachi’s eyes seemed to look through Shizuma as he spoke, his gentle hands a sharp contrast to the cruel reminders leaving his lips. “I took your grandparents. One of your clans. The ability to ever return to the lands of Konoha without risking your head in the process. All without explaining it in even the vaguest of terms.” 

For a split second, Shizuma half thought the man would explain it to him.  

Or, at the very least, give him some sort of reason. Some sort of excuse for slaying the only half of his bloodline which he could have turned to with the Hoshigaki clan spread to all corners of the ocean.  

A clan he doubted would have been any more interested in him than Kisame’s had been, one which would have likely been just as marred with the shame of their missing-nin clansmen as the Hoshigaki. 

One he had never needed nor sought, yet had to wonder over even so. A clan which had been destroyed less than a decade before his birth, for reasons he had never known. Reasons he had never dared to wonder over back in his current day, let along here under the roof of the one responsible.  

Shizuma hardly resisted the twitch which tried its best to spark through his body from head to toe as Itachi’s hand came to a still on the top of his head – the dark eyes Shizuma had lost himself in closing as he swiftly averted his own back down to the man’s lap. Shizuma’s gills fluttered slightly despite his best efforts to remain passive, turning his gaze to the side as he played at indifference.  

Utterly unsure of what the man expected of him.  

Was he attempting to taunt his way through this? To get a rise out of him and lead him back towards the short fused habits he had fallen into time and time again throughout the last two days? To excuse himself by acting as though he had attempted peace?  

Or to leave him disheartened – forcing him into sadness and borderline pity using guilted words in order to encourage his forgiveness.  

Then again, perhaps it was much simpler than that. Perhaps he merely meant to retighten his grip on Shizuma, to reinforce the fear he was so sure resided in Shizuma’s heart while hiding behind the facade that was his apology.  

Shizuma’s fingers twitched faintly from their spot leaning up against Itachi’s lap, his lips pulled into a tight frown as he listened to the man continue – seemingly uninterested in clarifying it in the least. 

“It is as I said last night, however.” Itachi’s hands returned to playing with his hair, a thin frown lacing his lips as Shizuma’s eyes ventured slowly upwards once more. “As warranted as your fear may be, it is not something you should worry yourself with. Had I wanted you dead, you would be. Had I intended to treat you with needless cruelty, I would have started long before now.”  

The hands smoothing over his hair ran downwards, cupping either side of Shizuma’s face and forcing his head upwards to look fully at Itachi once more. His lips drying yet again as the other assured him, “For as much of a monster as I may be. As cruel as I am. If there is one thing I am capable of, it’s doing as I please. Which, at the moment, means looking after you. For both Kisame and myself. Even if it may not make sense to you currently.”  

The words leaving his mouth never-ending, even as he neglected to explain a single one of the dozens of questions buzzing in Shizuma’s mind.  

“...I understand.” Shizuma lied, lowering his head to rest once more on Itachi’s lap as the elder let out a low sigh overhead.  

Chapter Text

Itachi’s hands continued carding wordlessly through Shizuma’s hair for another few moments, his fingers almost deceivingly gentle. Moving with grace and ease despite the many crimes the man didn’t so much as try to hide, his touch feeling less and less dangerous as time went on. Until he was left with that same embarrassingly tight and bubbly feeling in the pit of his stomach as before, his resolve left in shambles at the hands of Itachi now as well.  

He was really asking to be betrayed, wasn’t he? Letting his guard down after two mere days, just because they’d bought him some things and tolerated his presence – offering him flowery words all the while.  

How pathetic he was. 

How hypocritical he was.  

Selling out just like the rest of the clan.  

Shizuma’s eyes shifted from open to shut, his face remaining half-buried in Itachi’s lap for only a moment more before he finally forced himself to sit straight once more. His head craning back to look up at the elder shinobi as the gills on either of his cheeks let out a long, quiet sigh.  

Looking now at the man before him, and thinking back to the other, Shizuma couldn’t help but feel he had been played somewhere along the line. 

...Something wasn’t quite right. 

They were just as sharp and strong as the stories had said, having turned him on his head both literally and metaphorically more times than he could count already. True to their reputations in that regard. Yet.  

There was something not quite reasonable about the simultaneous reality they insisted on shoving his nose in time and time again.  

How could the same men who had shaken him half to death and threatened his life for answers even after the fact act like this? How could they be so perfectly efficient and true to the shinobi name…yet so very soft and - dare he say -  weak a mere instant later. 

Insisting on taking him on as both student and son. Gifting him a bingo book for his collection. Making him rice and sandwiches alike. Giving him blades, shoes, clothes, the lot. Patting his head and claiming he was theirs. Holding his face and saying they wanted him. Never once asking for anything substantial in return.  

It painted them as plain fools. 

Everything was so much simpler when he had considered himself a simple copy of the two. A vessel meant to carry on their legacies…which now seemed to be the exact opposite of what he had anticipated. 

Yet now he was now forced to see through glass as warped as this. To imagine himself as their student and son. A child which they seemed to want at least a bit if their unsettlingly unbrash  words were to be believed.  

He could not say he had seen many such cases back home.  

“You understand so well that you have not a single question?” Itachi spoke after a long moment, his tone calm as he looked down at Shizuma. No trace of the earlier frustrations on his face as he eyed the one sitting on his knees before him.  

Shizuma watched him carefully from his peripheral, his gaze heavy on the man’s unmoving form and even gaze. Debating, momentarily, whether he should take their gift as it was or push his luck and ask why he was being given so many with so little effort having gone into earning a single one. Whether to demand to know whatever tribute it was he would eventually be expected to pay or find out the hard way. 

He supposed the worst that could happen would be the man falling through with his apology and becoming frustrated again.  

Something it was probably best to test now, while they were still new to each other. While he still had a chance of pushing the man into his most extreme of reactions as a borderline stranger rather than having the cushion of familiarity blind sight him in the future when he pushed too far.  

Shizuma could feel his own nails digging into the palms of his hands as he sat, sure to keep his spine straightened even as he glanced downwards and away from Itachi. Certain he would fail to read the elder shinobi, and not quite willing to look him in the eye while inquiring. If not for the risk of sharingan, for the humiliation the very question shot through his body.  

“…Why.” Shizuma finally asked after a long moment, eyes narrowed at his own lap. “Would wish to do something such as this?” 

He could feel Itachi’s stare on his neck as he spoke, but kept himself steadied all the same.  

“…Kisame and I already answered that.” Itachi reminded him after an even longer stretch, his voice even. “We wish to pass on our teachings. For Kisame, it is a matter of the sword. For myself, it is a matter of clan.” 

He paused momentarily before continuing, “It is normal, for a father to wish to pass these things on to his son, is it not? For one to want to teach their children what they know, so that they might avoid death and misery in their future. To help put them on a proper path…so that they might grow into a person which can be content with themselves in their final moments. A father…he should want what is best for his son.” 

There was a long moment of consideration before the elder spoke again. 

“…Or, if absolutely nothing else, he should care for his child. ” Itachi seemed to decide, carrying on even as the back of Shizuma’s throat began to grow blue with blush at the ridiculousness of his words. “Whether he succeeds in the rest or not.” 

Shizuma’s fingers pressed idly against his lap as he listened, his gills fluttering open and close in both first and second hand embarrassment as Itachi asked, “Does this answer your question?” 

His own eyes narrowed in debate over the man’s words. Rolling them around carefully in his head before he finally answered bluntly, “Not quite.” 

Well aware they’d only wind up running in circles if he were to accept such a nonsense answer and carry on with it. Playing along until he was no longer able to ignore the dozens of holes lining the concept from top to bottom. 

Shizuma refused to allow the pit in his stomach to get the better of him even as he heard Itachi let out a brief sigh, the younger blowing his hair out of his face easily as he fell back further – sitting on his rear as his leg propped up before him on one side and stretched out and under the bed on the other. His head craning back to look up at Itachi’s patient yet tired expression, eyes remaining narrowed as he searched for any hint of dissatisfaction or praise. Finding none of either, in the end.  

“Why, precisely, are you going so out of your way to follow the - frankly stretching - conclusion that I am your son?” his words sharp and clipped even as Itachi’s brows moved slowly up his face. “You’ve had just as many opportunities to free yourself of the obligation as you have had to kill it.” 

He flicked the wrist hanging loosely from his arm which was propped upon his knee, a finger held out for each reason as he spoke. Undeterred by the thin frown laying itself across Itachi’s face. “To begin, I am a clone. A man-made human. A glorified mix of you and Kisame’s tissues. One brought forth by no will nor fault of your own.” 

“Secondly, by all accounts, it would be more than reasonable to say I am Orochimaru’s to deal with seeing as they are technically the one who gave me life.” 

“Thirdly, I have told you I am a chuunin. I am an independent, by village code, thus meaning I do not require guardians or any such nonsense to be on my own.” 

“Fourth-“  

A soft agitated puff of air escaped from Shizuma’s gills as Itachi leaned forward, pressing his finger to his lips even as the young Hoshigaki glared on. Unaffected no matter how Shizuma’s warning glare deepened.  

The nerve! 

He half considered, for not the first time, biting outwards and taking the man’s finger for his insolence. 

Yet still he sat, glaring impatiently upwards at the elder shinobi as Itachi seemed to try to gather his thoughts.  

Time seeming to stretch an eternity before the man finally spoke, his tone sounding almost stubborn – as though it were an age long argument he was presenting for the hundredth time rather than the simple and valid point Shizuma knew it to be. 

“A glorified mix of tissue is all any of us are. You are no less human than either Kisame or myself,” Itachi frowned deeply, eyes lingering on Shizuma. “And as for your second point, you are neither an issue to be dealt with nor Orochimaru’s to claim. One does not allow a thief to keep stolen goods merely because they’ve succeeded in their heist.” 

Shizuma watched with a thin frown of his own as Itachi’s hand lifted away to  smooth over the slightly ruffled fabric on his lap, the man’s eyes drifting downwards once more as he sat – the picture of composure despite his grim silence as he turned and twisted Shizumas final point in his mind.  

An undeniable fact, one which surely he must have considered before now. 

As a matter a fact. 

If his old bingo book held any truth, Itachi wouldn’t have been much older than he himself was currently when he decided to leave his village behind. 

So surely, he must understand. 

Shizuma could handle himself just fine. It wasn't as though he were actually a child after all, civilian standards be damned.  

He was just. Fine.  

Fully capable, more than the likes of them could ever fathom with their soft hearts and untarnished hands. 

“…Lastly, a matter I should hardly entertain.” Itachi finally spoke, palms resting on his legs as he looked down upon him with something close to decision. “For as correct as you may technically be…we don’t seem to be in either Kiri nor Konoha.” 

His voice a low hum as he carried on despite Shizuma’s furrowed brows. “No, we seem to be in the lands of rain. A village I am contracted to work through, yet you have made no binding oath to. A village I am, ever so vaguely, a shinobi of…while you are not.” 

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed further at the man’s words as he processed them, his propped leg sliding down as he leaned back on either of his palms. Catching onto what he meant, yet… 

“I may not be a shinobi of this village, but I remain one regardless.” He argued, “You are still bound to the rain even when away, are you not?” 

After all, it wasn’t as though a man was made any less of a shinobi merely because he crossed the boarders between lands. No, as far as Shizuma was concerned, he was still a man of the mist. Perhaps not this mist. But the mist none the less… 

“Perhaps.” Itachi nodded, even as his brows pinched slightly in frustration. There one minute, gone the next as his expression smoothed over in an instant. “Though. It’s hardly relevant - here and now, you hold no title in any of the villages. You have not proved yourself to any of them, so many opportunities which were available before have likely disappeared. All in the single moment you were sent back.” 

His tone grim as Shizuma’s own lips twitched downwards at the mention.  

A quite kind way to say he was back to being seen as the same street crawler he had been as a child, untrusted to so much as dine before paying let alone lease an apartment. 

Doomed to spiral back down and into the bottomless pit he had clawed out of, set to reenter the endless loop of filth and failure until he was able to persuade the village of his use or find someone willing to hire a rouge for their work. 

An unpleasant process he’d done once before and could undoubtedly do again. Yet. Not one someone such as the man before him should have any whims about subjecting him to. 

Nor one that was particularly relevant to the conversation at hand.  

After all, the villages’ views of him had little to do with his question. He had asked why Itachi so insisted on seeing him as a son which needed warding, not whether the villages would should they catch wind of him. 

“Besides.” Itachi interrupted his  thoughts, “That’s merely a matter of the villages. It doesn’t begin to take either the Hoshigaki nor Uchiha rites of passages. Rites which I doubt you’ve managed to obtain on either count, if you so wish to push beyond the realm of legality and into my view in particular.” 

Nearly seeming to read his mind, Shizuma glowered slightly. Unimpressed with the weak excuse.  

“Rites of passage should hardly be cause for concern.” Shizuma rolled his eyes mildly as he listened, his sock-clad toes pressing idly at the support beam under the bed. “I’ve been safeguarding my own survival since I was a toddler. Whatever they may be, I doubt they’ll be of any hindrance to me.”  

His own frown furthering as Itachi’s lips quirked up in what seemed to he dry amusement.  Undeterred as he shook his head briefly, “While I can not claim to know the ways of the Hoshigaki clan, I can say this. The rite of passage into adulthood for the Uchiha is not so simple as merely completing a test.” 

Itachi’s eyes focused in on him, a chill Shizuma wouldn’t quite admit to zipping up his spine as he scowled at the man’s doubt.  

“I’m certain I could manage.” He argued flatly. 

“Shizuma…” Itachi’s eyes shifted to the side as he shook his head. “To lay claim to adulthood and leave behind the mark of childhood in the eyes of our clan, you must receive three blessings. One of the body, one of the mind, and one of the soul.” 

Shizuma’s feet paused in their pushing, head turning off to the side as he listened to the man’s words with renewed interest. 

Hm. Was that so? 

He opened his mouth to ask further,  but was shushed as Itachi held a finger to his own lips this time. 

Perhaps having gathered that if he risked it again Shizuma wouldn’t be able to hold back the urge for vengeance against his rudeness.  

Shizuma's fingers twitched slightly with ire, though he did not interrupt as the man noted, “We will discuss it at a later time, however, as we are straying further and further from the matter at hand. The matter of your initial question.”  

Ah, yes. Shizuma supposed they had… 

“You’ve asked why I have rejected my many chances to free myself from the obligation of taking you in.” He began, “The answer is quite simple. It is as I’ve said – to me, you are both a son and child. Regardless of whether you agree or not. I had a long week to consider it while you were unconscious and…I’ve come to decide I would rather you remain alive and well than dead and gone. There is nothing to gain in your death or misery, but plenty to gain in your survival.”  

The young Hoshigaki listened quietly, lips twitching downwards with conflicting feelings as his fingers pressed further to the ground. 

He had been out an entire week?  

He supposed it explained why he had been able to move so freely over the last two days…yet he hadn’t thought his injury to be so deep.  

Then there was the matter of his latter words.  

There was nothing to gain from killing him? There was something to gain from him remaining alive?  

What exactly did the other man expect of him?  

Was it simply for him to fulfill his promise, to learn what they wished to teach and pass it on accordingly? Or was it more than that.  

Was he meant to help him in his endeavors, once he was deemed ready? To claim his revenge if Sasuke did manage to kill him even in this world? 

Or fulfill a less obvious favor. 

“Such as?” Shizuma asked, keeping himself steady as he spoke. Refusing to allow the nerves which crept up him any notice, stomping them down in an instant.  

Whatever it was the man wanted, he was certain he could do it.  

He much rather know in detail what he was expected to give in return for their kindness than be left to guess.  

“…Such a stubborn boy.” Itachi seemed to mildly mourn, something close to scolding lining his voice even as he remained visibly unbothered. Merely taking a final breath before he began again, “To start, with you here, both Kisame and I are able to pass on our knowledge as we’ve said. To safeguard our clan’s history through you, and confirm with ourselves that we have done all we could for you.” 

Information which was neither new nor fresh to the young Hoshigaki.  

Impatiently, Shizuma pressed his feet against the support beam below the bed. His neck continuing to crane back and watch the elder as he sat, smoothing over his desire for the other to hurry on with his words and merely continuing to lean back on his palms. 

Prepared for whatever mission he might hope to give. 

“...Then to finish, a slightly more tedious matter.” Itachi finally admitted, leaning forward from his spot on the side of the bed to look down upon him. Eyes calculating, considering, as they scanned him over. 

Shizuma leaned forward to match the man, his hands drifting to lay on his lap as his legs curved out from under the bed to rest on either side of him. His back straight as a spear as he awaited the man’s request, ready to hear whatever it was he sought from him. Certain he could manage no matter how tedious it may be.  

After all, so far as he was concerned, stubborn was simply another word for resilient.  

“My final use for you...” Itachi started, words drawn out almost as if to tease or taunt him with the possibilities. “Is to act as my aid should I perish in this world as I did in the last. Should I find myself unable to resist time’s plans for me...I would like to be able to leave my matters here in your hands.”  

No doubt referring to his fated battle with Sasuke Uchiha, just as he had thought.  

“You wish for me to rid the world of your brother, should he succeed in taking you out this time around?” Shizuma asked carefully, hand lifting to motion towards himself as he spoke.  

Not finding the idea too terribly easy...yet certain he would be able to manage with enough training. He had always been rather skilled naturally as it was, so no doubt his abilities would improve by leaps and bounds now that he had teachers such as the two.  

It also helped that the Sasuke Uchiha of this time would not yet be as strong nor respected as the one from his own. 

Yes, if push came to shove, he had seen how the other adults of the time had looked to him even after his efforts in the war. He’d heard the whispers they’d sent his way. It wouldn’t be horribly hard to find connections which could eliminate him with sheer numbers rather than attempting a one-on-one battle as Itachi seemed to intend.  

It was odd, the thought of destroying the man Itachi had scolded him a mere hour or so ago for not following home, but he had little objection to it. Certainly, if he wished for the other to fall, he would fall.  

Sasuke Uchiha no doubt wished for revenge against Itachi for their fallen clan.  

Just as Itachi no doubt would wish for revenge against Sasuke for his own stolen life. 

It wasn’t a fair exchange by any means, but it was one which made sense to Shizuma. A mere string in the everlasting rotation of war and acclaim.  

The strongest were the ones who would be remembered. 

If Itachi was willing to make him strong, he was willing to make sure the man was at least remembered in turn. 

It was as simple as that.  

“No.” Itachi sliced through his considerations, brows pinching together in subtle dissatisfaction. 

Or, well, what would be subtle on anyone besides the man himself. 

Shizuma lowered the hand which had been motioning to himself back to his lap, his own brows screwing together in frustrated confusion.  

He was beginning to think the issue was less that he was too arrogant and stubborn, and more than Itachi was far too evasive. 

It was a wonderful skill to have, of course, but Shizuma would truly rather it be directed at anyone besides him. At the very least now, while the man seemed to be trying to make a request. 

“You are not to bring any harm to Sasuke Uchiha, nor his family, regardless of my outcome.” Itachi warned, “I have no interest in such things. If Sasuke and I are to fight, it will be just that. A fight between equals - a fight between brothers. With the best shinobi coming out alive, with no interference from the outside either before nor after. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Itachi’s tone was not quite harsh, but certainly firm in its point. Uninterested in leaving any room for objections or complains. 

Shizuma’s stomach welled up with something between terribly childish admiration and all too real envy, the very idea of such a fight leaving him almost hungry. His chest empty, so empty, craving the very sight.  

The sight of a fight between true shinobi, one which would end in honor and esteem for both regardless of the outcome.  

A true shinobi’s death, a death he one day hoped to manage as well once his time finally came. 

“I understand.” he assured the man before him, nodding with certainty as he slid his legs back under him once more – his back straightening even further as his hands curled to fists against either of his thighs.  

Shizuma watched with steady eyes as Itachi nodded in turn, his stern eyes easing just a bit around the edges. His initial scanning easing up as he seemed to take in Shizuma’s sincerity this time around. 

His gaze lingering heavily on him as he seemed to almost reluctantly praise with a straightened spine of his own, “Good. I’ll expect you to hold to it, then, as any honorable shinobi or shinobi-in-training should to his allies.”  

Itachi’s hand reaching out and down to carefully pat Shizuma’s shoulder, touch so light the younger could hardly feel it even as he leaned in to stop the man from having to stretch any further. “Now. As for what I wished to say before.”  

Shizuma listened as Itachi started once again, his attention fully on the elder now as he felt the hand on his shoulder tighten ever so slightly – centering him and keeping his focus as the two sat. “The matter I mean to leave to you...is Kisame.” 

The younger shinobi blinked slightly, watching the man with brief weariness at the words.  

What exactly did he mean, he wished to leave Kisame to him? 

“The final reason I have decided to take your on as my son and student, besides the more obvious ones, is for his sake.” Itachi explained carefully, voice low as he seemed to convey what could only be a secret between the two. “Shizuma, we may not know you well quite yet, but we one day do hope to. We wish for you to stay by our side...just as you may have from the beginning, had things worked out differently.” 

Something in his tone was so terribly somber, a complete and utter one-eighty from the brave and steady man he had just been even as he remained just as serious.  

It left an odd mix of confliction lingering in the bottom of Shizuma’s gut, the younger’s eyes drifting between the hand on his shoulder and Itachi.  

“It is my wish that, at the very least until you are able to find a way home, you remain there. Whether I am to perish, or even Kisame for that matter. While you are here, in the past...stay with us. Even if it is sure to be an adjustment for us all. I believe you being here is for the best. For you, as well as for us. For both ourselves, and the future which we hope you will aid us in realizing. Whether we are able to remain together as a group, or you find yourself with only Kisame left.” 

Something in his voice sounding all too damned, his eyes heavy even as Shizuma reached his own hands upwards to wrap around his thin wrists in a play at comfort. Attempting to smash down that sorry look the elder wore by holding the hand which rested on his shoulder, his head tilting to the side to lean against it with a toothy smile. 

Still not quite understanding how the two had deluded themselves into finding some sort of strange fondness for his mere existence, but more than willing to take it now that he had finally pried the answer of what exactly they sought from him out of Itachi. Even if it was something as simple and easy as companionship.  

A quite common desire he’d seen plenty of over the years, he supposed, despite it being a bit off-putting to see it coming from the likes of them... 

But regardless. It was one he was quite used to fulfilling, and out of all the possibilities, not one he minded all that much. 

Especially when there was so much to gain, and so very little to lose.  

After all, it seemed fate was finally on his side. 

For once, he, and by extension they, held the overcard.  

“That last matter is a bit obvious, isn’t it?” he promised, gills fluttering despite himself as he watched the man across from him let out a low sigh. 

Though this time he couldn’t quite tell whether it was one of exasperation or affection.  

Chapter Text

Shizuma’s head continued leaning against the warm back of the elder shinobi’s knuckle, his own fingers remaining loose on the attached wrist. Letting the man keep his hand there if he so pleased, all the while indulging him with reciprocated touch of his own.   

His efforts to convey his agreement only broken as a heavy set of knocks thumped against the bedroom door.   

Shizuma glanced towards it - considering it only briefly before he allowed the discussion at hand to end.  

He released his hold on Itachi in an instant, letting both of their hands slip back to their laps. His eyes lingering on the door for only a moment before his elder clansmen entered, Kisame’s broad form seeming to almost slide into the room despite his size.   

The man’s wide, toothy grin was cast down at both Itachi and himself as he stood in the doorway, looking all too amused as he played at concern. “My, my, Itachi. You come to visit the boy for a mere hour on your own and already you’ve got him kneeling in repentance. It seems the Uchiha clan runs just as tight of a ship as I’d imagined.”   

Utterly unwavering even as Itachi let out yet another sigh.  

This one, quite clear with its agitated origins.   

“He is down there by no order of mine.” Itachi retorted, his brows pressing together with subtle agitation which was just a bit too visible to hold much truth to it.  

His head turned just the slightest bit, enough that Kisame could see the faint speck of ire as he spoke. Yet not far enough to make it any sort of real challenge as the bulkier man slowly made his way to stand on the opposite side of the bed, lingering like a ghost.  

Shizuma glanced between the two briefly, huffing quietly to himself as they danced around an invisible line he couldn’t help but feel neither would be too terribly upset to see crossed.  

His own hands reached up to toy with the tips of his hair as he watched them, eyes narrowing as they switched from one to another.  

Cutting carefully into the well-balanced act as he lifted himself up from the ground and plopped on the mattress beside Itachi, keeping his own back turned from the other as well.  

His gaze drifting over his shoulder to watch Kisame through sharp eyes, fingers continuing to tug idly at the tips of his curly locks....  

His legs crossed idly as he tested his leeway with a soft titter of his own, “I don’t recall being assigned to a particular seat, Kisame. Whether I wish to sit on the floor or bed, I see no issue with either.” he reminded, keeping his eyes locked steadily with the other as he spoke.   

His tone ever-polite and mild even as he poked and prodded at the larger shark with his words; neither interested in arguing against Itachi alongside Kisame nor wishing to admit to the rather shameless display he had given mere moments ago.   

The light shake of the other’s head and his dismissive waving telling Shizuma quickly that it was something which wouldn’t be terribly hard to avoid.   

His slowly steadying resolve in his actions as well as the inkling of satisfaction at the ease with which he was able to bury the issue only shoved down and into the dirt an instant later.   

Shizuma let out a low hiss, his gills snapping open as angry puffs of air escaped either one.   

The same large palm from the general store had come down upon him, once again without any real force, but with twice the destructive power instead.  

The brute's hand quick to ruin all the work he’d put into untangling his hair a mere hour ago, undeterred even as Shizuma’s hands shot upwards to swipe them away. “You-” he warned, sliding off the bed once more in one quick movement to escape.  

His hair turned every which way by the time he was back on the ground, looking over the side of the mattress with a heavy glower.   

What a fucking prick.   

Shizuma locked eyes with Kisame over the edge of the bed, his feet digging into the ground below as he considered the best way to repay the man for his rudeness. Dissatisfied as he came up unfortunately short the longer they sat in each other’s sights, only able to continue staring as he felt Itachi’s eyes lingering intermediately between the two of them.  

The younger neither wishing to back down from the match nor wind up turned on his head a second time if he attempted to re-climb the bed. Unwilling to make a fool of himself a second time, should there be a way around it.  

…His victory only came as Kisame shook his head once more, the elder Hoshigaki sitting heavy on the opposite side of the bed with his back turned to them in one quick movement.  

Shizuma matching him in equal strides, sliding down and off his knees to sit with his back to the bed instead. Accepting the victory for the stare-off quickly, yet unwilling to allow the other a win of his own with his efforts to ignore him.  

He’d be damned if he was going to fall for that.  

So it was that he continued to sit on the floor, his back to both Kisame and Itachi even as he sat beside the latter of the two. His hands moving easily upwards as he fixed the mess the former had made of his hair, smoothing it down bit by bit.  

The single puff of strands which jutted out of his right bangs now somehow worse off than they had been earlier, unwilling to go down no matter how he smoothed them.   

Remaining in the end, as he allowed a single loss to befall him.  

“You seem to have to have gotten your things put away quite quickly.” Kisame noted mildly after a moment - from the other side of the room as he seemed to scan it. Likely finding near nothing out of place as far as the many things they’d bought today went.   

Outside of his sword, of course, which Shizuma had little interest in tucking away anytime soon.  

“...I have.” Shizuma agreed lightly, his own gaze locked in front of him as he spoke. “Your arm warmers are folded beneath Itachi’s borrowed clothing.”   

Unsure of where he should have put them, but having opted to leave them atop the dresser for now.   

“Ah, many thanks.” Kisame mused from behind him, the sheets shuffling as he went to collect the returned items. A low rumbly hum leaving him as he turned them over in his hands, seemingly unaware as Shizuma peered over at him from the corner of his vision.   

His fingers twitching briefly as he saw the elder’s eyes drift down to the trashcan tucked beside the dresser, his beady white eyes lingering there for a moment before turning back to Shizuma. “And you’ve cleaned your injuries as well, it seems. Such boundless energy...I had imagined you would seek some rest once we finally made it back to the base. Such a wound is hardly ever accompanied by an easy recovery, after all.”   

“…I’d say I’ve slept more than enough as it is.” Shizuma dismissed easily, his own gaze falling downwards as he scanned his nails atop his propped knees. “With a week’s rest...it should be long since healed by now, if anything.”   

The silence which filled the room soon after unpromising, his vague probing doing him little good as he thought over the events of the day prior.  

His hands folding over one another as he considered Itachi’s words coupled with the fresh memory of awakening in that room. His prior annoyance at Sasori having waited until he was awake to pull his sample doubled as it mixed with the knowledge of the timeline.  

Tripling, in fact, the further he considered just how much the man must have had to work with prior. His blood and open guts somehow not having been sufficient enough for his parlor trick of confirmation.   

Confirmation which was rather late, as well...to an almost unreasonable degree.   

What a sadistic psycho.  

“Yes, well, it was a rather nasty slash.” Itachi mused to his side, sounding only half interested. “You should count yourself lucky you were able to remain unconscious for the duration of the healing.”  

Not elaborating in the least even as Shizuma tilted his head back to look at him – his eyes scanning the man up and down for any sign of something further but finding none.  

“I suppose so.” he eventually agreed, tilting his head back down. “With Kagura being as he is, it wouldn’t have been terribly surprising for me to have wound up dead. I certainly wouldn’t be the first to die by those hands of his.”   

A thin smile of amusement lining his lips at the thought, his nails pressing into his palms.  

Then again. It wasn’t as if he was near as weak and feeble as the others.  

At least he had held the strength and reserve to handle his student’s bloodlust, unlike that group he’d heard howling from yards down the hall mere months prior.  

Their screams akin to a group of rabid dogs which had finally met their match in the form of a fierce young wolf cub.   

So, utterly, unprepared.  

“...Such an odd one, you are.”   

Kisame’s low muse cut through his thoughts, a light, amused smile lingering on his lips even as Shizuma sent him a mild glare at the tactless insult.  

“And who are you, to be calling others odd?” he cut back, his expression holding strong as he saw the other pause only momentarily before letting out a low huff of a chuckle.   

His words ringing true, something even the likes of Kisame was unable to deny.   

“I suppose you’re right.” Kisame agreed with an almost appraising hum, “Between Itachi and myself, I should hardly expect a boresome child.”   

His words unapologetic even as he amended them, Shizuma’s own lips twisting downwards in turn as the other’s lifted up.   

Hmph.   

Though Shizuma wasn’t certain he cared much at all for the man’s implications, he couldn’t say he disagreed all that much.   

At least he hadn’t been one of those pathetic dying dogs.  

His own soured and excentric reputation be damned.  

He was, if nothing else, competent.  

“...Yes, between odd and boresome, I suppose the former is better.” Shizuma waved him off easily, sliding his propped-up knees down before him as he turned his attention fully towards the two. His eyes scanning over them, taking in their slowly familiarizing forms as they remained stagnant and unmoving. Their eyes stuck to his form just as his were to theirs.  

He silently willed himself away from the reflex to shoot them a dirty look the longer their eyes lingered on him, his toes curling inwards as he merely gave a low huff and forced his stare back at his lap. Far too stubborn to acknowledge the pinpoints in his back the longer he sat being analyzed like a particularly interesting catch.  

Shizuma’s nails scratched idly at his wrist, nearly breaking the skin as he felt a too-light hand touch his head and break them from the air which had become all too awkward all too fast.  

He craned his neck upwards to look at the only slightly taller shinobi, his stance on the ground helping him little as he sat. Itachi’s steady hand lingered against his scalp; the four fingers settled there light as a feather before a single one tapped consideringly against it.   

“Quite so.” Itachi seemed to agree only after a long moment of pondering; his dark eyes narrowed down at Shizuma as the younger kept their gazes locked. “Though, if you intend to die, perhaps plan for a later date. It would be quite disappointing for you to die so early on, let alone at the hands of a mere student.”   

His eyes slipping closed as Shizuma began to frown further at the gross simplification of the matter.   

It wasn’t as though he had been trying to die by taking Kagura on as his student, after all.   

No, he had far too many plans he was far too deep into for the likes of that nonsense. Had he wished to follow that path...well, he would have done it alongside the others in his clan. Not in such a careless manner as Itachi suggested.  

Even if being cut to pieces by Yagura’s grandson was hardly the most pathetic of deaths out there. He would quite prefer it happen once the boy was trained further, as Itachi said.  

If it must happen at all, that was...  

“Now come, stand up.” Itachi’s fingers pressed lightly against his skull, just enough to annoy Shizuma as the younger glanced upwards with a thin frown. “Rested as you may claim to be, your fragile status remains. You should sit on the bed while I go gather some dinner for us. Rolling around on the floor will do your injuries little good.”   

His fingers remaining set on Shizuma’s head as he spoke, unmoving as Shizuma sat stubbornly. Debating, for a mere second, whether to push back against the man’s pitying words or not.   

Shizuma’s heels pressed to the ground in annoyance, a long huff of air leaving him as he used the firm footing to hoist himself back up and into the bed.  

Willing to cooperate for now, though not without sharing a small snippet of his own.  

“Fragile is a bit much to say, is it not?” he objected even as he crawled back up atop the bed, plopping down in one easy movement as Itachi finally stood from his spot near the bottom side of the mattress. “If nothing else, I’m at least capable of making it to the dining room...”   

Shizuma’s words seemingly unheard as the elder shinobi moved to take his half of the borrowed clothes back from Kisame, the younger near ready to repeat himself when Itachi’s dark form turned back towards him. A thin frown lining the man’s lips as he seemed to appraise him now too, unyielding in his consideration no matter how easily Shizuma remained puffed up.   

“...Be that as it may.” Itachi turned towards the doorway, his movements as smooth as ever as he reached for the doorknob. “I would quite prefer we remain on the side of caution until you are completely healed. The last thing we need is for one of the others in the organization to catch onto the scent of blood in the water more than they already likely have.”  

His words true, perhaps, but no less frustrating as he slipped out of the door and away from the conversation without allowing so much as another word of debate on the matter. The solid wood of the door clicking shut in an instant, leaving Shizuma and Kisame to their own devices while he fulfilled his self-assigned mission.  

Lightly, Shizuma huffed for what felt like the dozenth time that day – his shoulders thumping faintly against the headboard alongside the back of his head as he watched the door. His legs and arms alike crossed, crystal blue eyes doing their best to will a hole through the door the man had just escaped from.   

“Hm.” Kisame hummed lowly to himself as he stood beside the now closed door, his head shaking as he turned it downwards. White eyes lost in the empty space before him, his gaze considering as he began to slip the arm warmers on one after another. The bulkier man seeming to confirm that they were in place before allowing his arms to fall back down to either of his sides with a final muse of mild critique, “Now if only you would extend such worries to your own health, Itachi...”    

Shizuma’s brows rose slightly as his gaze shifted away from the door and over to Kisame, taking in his words and turning them around in his head.  

Was he referring to Itachi’s upcoming fight, which he still seemed so intent on partaking in despite the apparent doom waiting for him at the end of it? Or perhaps it was more straightforward. Was it the sheer lack of food he seemed to eat? His eternally tired and soured expression? Something else entirely?   

Shizuma turned the possibilities over in his mind, glancing upwards at the ceiling as he considered them. Pulling from the short time he’d been conscious around the two, silently logging anything of note in right alongside Kisame’s words.   

His pondering once more cut short as the bed shifted greatly, Kisame’s large form lowering carefully onto the side of the mattress beside him. “And as for you...I wouldn’t concern yourself too greatly with his words of fragility. He merely wishes to make sure you are in proper shape come time for your training.”   

The man looked all too knowing as he spoke, leaning forward as if in attempt to intimidate Shizuma. “After all, neither he nor I am particularly well known for our mercy – regardless of whether we’re in fields of enemies or allies.”  

Something in his tone both somehow promising that he was only being playful, while also assuring the younger that he was all too serious. Once more leaving Shizuma unsure of which was more-so the case this time around.  

Shizuma huffed lightly at the implications regardless, leaning forward from his spot to match the elder Hoshigaki’s attempts at intimidation. Perhaps unable to truly scare him, but at the very least unwilling to allow him to think he had succeeded in his own attempts.   

“Yes, well, I suppose it’s a good think I’ve been a teacher long enough to know how useless mercy in the classroom is then, isn’t it?”   

Chapter Text

Itachi returned not long after he left, this time with a large plate in hand and thin frown covering his face.  

One which was, for once, not directed at Shizuma. 

No - this time, it was directed at a certain partner of his.  

Or rather, Shizuma supposed, the actions of the aforementioned man.  

“Kisame.” was all Itachi had to say for the bulkier shinobi to immediately drop his hold on Shizuma, freeing him from his death grip of a headlock far quicker than any of Shizuma’s hisses or attempts to claw his arms off had. 

“Ah, apologies Itachi, it was not my intention to dismiss your orders for him to rest. I was only hoping to squeeze some of the ego out of him before he so inconveniently burst all over his new room.” Kisame explained with a terribly un-sorry expression - Itachi’s narrowed eyes and doubtful glance doing little to dissuade Shizuma from this reading.  

“My sense of ego is just fine, I’ll have you know.” Shizuma grumbled under his breath as he made quick work of crossing to the other side of the bed, his knees once more pulled up to his chest as he propped his feet on the side of the mattress.  

His fingers trailed over the sides of his neck where Kisame’s arm had previously held him hostage, his hair now ruined further by his struggle to escape.  

Or, more precisely, his failure to escape.  

“...Asshole.” Shizuma added after a brief moment, unable to hold his tongue despite his attempts over the last few days to play nice. His gills fluttered inwards and outwards rapidly as he caught his breath, his attempts to quell his fury at the embarrassing display unsuccessful.  

If only his sword had been just a few feet closer.  

If only the weapons stashed away in his clothes hadn’t been blocked by Kisame’s spare arm, so busy holding his thrashing form in place that he wasn’t even aware Shizuma was three seconds away from being able to cut his damned fingers right off his sides and- 

“Pfft.” Kisame’s low huff of amusement rang in Shizuma’s ears, the younger Hoshigaki dropping his arms down from rubbing his neck and towards the weapons he had hiding in either of his sleeves. 

Laugh at him, would he? 

Shizuma may not be able to actually off the man, but he’d be damned if he was going to take this disrespect without at the very least leaving him dented. It wasn’t like Kisame would kill him for it anyway. Probably.  

“Kisame.” Itachi reiterated, with just a tad bit more warning in his voice this time. His expression firm even as he continued on towards the younger, shoving Shizuma's knees down from their spots against his chest and setting the warm plate on his lap as he reached up to hold each one of his wrists.  

His dark eyes giving Shizuma a purposeful and knowing look even as he directed the hands down and towards the chop sticks on the edge of his plate, Shizuma’s glower at being manhandled by the likes of even Itachi not seeming to bother him in the least.  

“…Ah, but I haven’t said anything further, Itachi.” Kisame not-so-helpfully reminded - unstopping even as Shizuma’s brow began to twitch from his side of the bed.  

The chopsticks in his hands felt all too much like the perfect weapon in that very moment, his fingers tightening around the wood even as he continued to make eye contact with Itachi. The man seeming to shift his warning look between Kisame and himself, as though he were waving a pair of mongrels off one another. 

Shizuma considered it only briefly before taking a less than pleased bite from his food, his head turning the other way as he gnawed at the chopsticks in annoyance.  

His rage ever unquelled, halted only by the surprise of wood splintering under his teeth. 

Ow.  

Just what sort of shoddy chopsticks did they stock in this rain-filled village!?  

Shizuma’s annoyance was quickly tucked away and replaced for the moment as he felt the loose tip of the wood linger in his mouth right alongside the mouthful of noodles he had been given, his expression pinching slightly as he cursed himself.  

Of course. Of course it was he who would have such an inconvenient fate befall him. 

“…Did you just-” “It wasn’t on purpose .”  

Shizuma cut Itachi off before he could finish, lifting a hand to his mouth as he continued looking the other way - spitting the tip of the wood out and into his hand as he frowned heavily. He looked at the mutilated piece alongside the well-splintered end of his chop sticks, eyes dragging over towards Itachi with no shortage of awkward discomfort.  

Really now, biting through his chop sticks.  

What was he, three? 

Shizuma dropped the mutilated wood in Itachi’s extended palm, the elder shinobi accepting it without comment despite his low sigh. His form moving out and towards the door without a word once he had it, leaving Shizuma to sit once more with his arms crossed and back to Kisame.  

The only difference this time being the plate of warm food sitting on his lap, keeping him at least somewhat safe from further horseplay while Itachi was away.  

Not that Shizuma was all too concerned with that now, he sulked mildly.  

After all, if he couldn’t so much as handle not harming himself with his own dinner, how could he truly blame the other for thinking his ego was just a tad too high?  

Shizuma kept his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest, head lowered from its usual high spot as he used his tongue to trace over the sore spot on his gums where the wood had poked him. A small and slight abrasion that would surely no longer hurt by the end of the hour, but one he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at even so.  

“…It’s nothing to grow upset over. Things manufactured away from the strong forms and sharp teeth of Kiri are bound to be less sturdy than-” Kisame began in a distinctly uncasual way, his play at boredom supremely unsuccessful.  

The man quick to crawl directly back onto his nerves mere seconds after Itachi had taken his leave... 

“I don’t recall claiming upset.” Shizuma dismissed his words, glancing over his shoulder and towards the bulkier man after a brief moment. His eyes focusing in on the other’s form as he held his own forearm firmly, lips twisting down and into a thin frown. 

Really, he couldn’t help but be exasperated by Kisame’s ever-patient concern at this point, why did the two insist on being so difficult?  

So similar and different from their reputations, so much better and worse in every regard… 

It made him want to pull every last piece of hair from his scalp.  

Shizuma slowly lowered his crossed arms, lifting his plate up in one hand so that he could crawl back over to sit at the center of the bed once more. 

There it was that he remained, arms once more crossed and head turned away no matter how Kisame’s gaze seemed to linger on him for further explanation.  

That same fascinated look stuck on his face - As though he were looking at a new, rare breed of fish which had flopped out of the bottom of the pond and onto his well-worn and familiar deck.  

Shizuma very pointedly did not allow himself to shift from his spot no matter how long the gaze lingered, keeping himself firm in place even as Kisame hummed lowly in understanding to his side, “Hm, yes, I see. My mistake.”  

His eyes remaining cast away even as Itachi entered the room with a new pair of chopsticks in hand, dark eyes sweeping between Kisame and himself once more as he stood in the doorway.  

... 

Shizuma slowly turned his own attention up to meet the other’s as he was handed the replacement utensils, his grip on the wood more gentle this time as he accepted them with a low mumble of, “Thank you.”  

Itachi’s brief nod and light movements as he sat on the side of the bed opposite to Kisame helping to ease the slight lingering tension in the air, Shizuma’s movements ever so slightly lighter now as he ate the offered meal. 

His own gaze shifting slowly between Kisame and Itachi as they sat, only falling to his food as he saw the two still continuing to watch him with those too-steady eyes of theirs.  

Really. Shizuma was hardly the type to become shy or nervous around attention of any sort - good or bad - but these two seemed determined to test the bounds of that fact.  

Bite after bite he ate, light eyes occasionally flickering upwards at the two between sections of the plate.  

His feet tapping idly against the sheets of the bed, he very nearly bit through his chopsticks a second time as Itachi finally turned away - yet another low sigh leaving his lips as he seemed to glance upwards and towards an empty spot on the wall.  

“Let's not act as though his ego is any more of a mystery than his teeth.” Itachi spoke with a distinct boredom, his words neither defending nor harsh towards either Kisame nor himself.  

No.  

Truth be told, he seemed almost - almost - amused. 

If not for the sheer tiredness with which he said it, that was. 

Shizuma did not have a chance to so much as deflect the allegations against himself before the tides of the conversation were forced onwards however, Itachi’s attention once more moving back towards him as he seemed to consider something. Pausing only briefly before he inquired, “Are you enjoying your dinner?” 

The words themselves ringing with a thousand layers of awkward uncertainty, something which Shizuma would have been quick to mock internally if not for the calm certainty they were delivered with.  

... 

Pausing mid-chew, Shizuma held the food in his mouth, keeping his eyes locked with Itachi’s as he debated whether the question was multi-faced or not.  

Briefly, he was caught with worry that he had been tricked and made a fool of once more - his cooperativeness and sheer willingness to follow along with what they demanded and gave him unimpressive to the more experienced shinobi.  

He was reminded of the utter foolishness of accepting food in other lands from hands which he had not seem busy in their work. Of the ease with which a simple poison could cut the life of even the most battle-hearty shinobi. Of- 

Of the fact he had already eaten plenty of their food by now. Of the fact they surely would not have had to fall back on such sneaky methods to kill or immobilize him. Of the fact he would be quite useless in fulfilling his promise to Itachi if he were to fall here and now or digest something which could not be forgiven.  

Reluctantly, Shizuma swallowed the mouthful, stomping down any reflexive worries of tests or deceit. 

“Yes, thank you.” he repeated, fingers twitching briefly as he continued onto the next bite.  

Itachi’s raised brows doing little to quell the unrest in his gut. 

“…Good.” was all he said however, turning back towards the empty spot on the wall as he asked all too stiffly and formally, “Is this the sort of meal you would standardly seek, or do you have…other preferences?”  

Shizuma’s weariness crumbling more and more with each word, the younger shinobi watching the elder with a hopelessly unimpressed expression once his heart stopped trying to hammer itself out of his chest and up his throat.  

All Itachi meant to ask was what sort of food he favored?  

Shizuma finished chewing his current mouthful before swallowing, his brow twitching a bit as he resisted the urge to let out a low sigh of his own.  

He was beginning to wonder more and more where he could have possibly inherited his interpersonal abilities. Certainly, it hadn’t been from this man as he had initially guessed…nor was he willing to put many bets on Kisame… 

Hm. Perhaps it was something he had managed to create all on his own. 

“I’m not terribly picky.” he answered eventually, carefully tucking his criticisms aside for the moment. “I’ll eat just about anything…though I’ll not go out of my way to buy processed foods as they have a tendency to make me feel unwell.”  

No, he would take an unseasoned fish straight out of the pond over a bowl of that plastic-tasting off-colored garbage his students loved to clog the cafeteria up with any day.  

Though again, if it was all there was to eat. Well. He was hardly the type to become prissy over the matter.  

Or at the very least, not vocally. 

“...I see.” was all Itachi said before the room returned to silence, the only noise within being the steady sound of food being eaten and the slight drumming of Shizuma’s feet against the sheets.  

Itachi’s words from the conversation prior ringing irritably in the back of Shizuma’s skull, a light dust of purple falling over his face as he considered their relation to the ones at hand.  

Itachi had acknowledged that neither he nor Kisame quite knew Shizuma. As well as the fact that it was something they wished to change. Something they saw as a wrong, something which under idealized circumstances would have never come to be.  

So… 

Shizuma sat his plate to the side as he finished eating, pulling his knees to his chest once more as he rested his chin atop them. Willing his nerves to steady, to keep on and use the conversation at hand to meet the other halfway. 

To perhaps reach further than halfway, if Itachi’s current attempts at prodding for information were anything to go by… 

Yes. It seemed the man needed some aid in his endeavors, and Shizuma himself was certainly not going to miss the opportunity to prod back if given the chance. If not for their aid, for his own. 

Perhaps it would help him made sense of the ridiculous duo, if just a bit.  

Something found in person and planted in fact, rather than information scraped from old boogeyman stories and the half-baked recounts of those lucky enough to cross their paths and come out alive to tell the story decades later.  

“Mhm.” he confirmed with a low hum, tilting his head lightly atop his knees as he watched Itachi carefully. “I’m quite fine to eat any amount of anything. Quite the opposite of the likes of either of you, I take it?”  

He didn’t so much as pause as he saw Itachi’s brows begin to furrow and crawl up his face, his eyes latching onto the elder’s as he mused, “I don’t believe I’ve seen either of you have more than a cup of tea over the last two days.”  

Itachi’s hand lifted to massage his eyes as he listened to Shizuma continue speaking, Kisame’s low muse from their side sounding suspiciously like he was asking permission for something or another as he leaned his large form closer and closer to Itachi from across the bed. 

When Itachi merely continued ignoring him and focused instead on Shizuma, he seemed to take it as permission.  

“It is true that my appetite is typically rather limited-”  

“Unless sweets are involved.” 

Kisame amended Itachi’s words, somewhere along the line having stretched his arm over from where he was sitting on the opposite side of the bed to the spot directly between he and Itachi. His hand resting easily on top of the pale man’s, as though it were the most common thing in the world.  

His toothy grin and Itachi’s light huff of air as he allowed it leading Shizuma to believe his assumptions were not necessarily incorrect… 

Ack. How bizarre.  

Being partners was one thing - both professionally and romantically - but to slip such sappy displays in at such a mere moments availability… 

Did they truly have no regard for the fierce reputations they had built? 

They certainly hadn’t been so shameless while out and about earlier during the day, so why now did they insist on such pointless displays?  

... 

Shizuma turned his gaze to the side, letting out a low huff as he avoided the display. 

Sweets, they had said? 

He supposed they were alright.  

“My…mission partners…are the same way. They also insist on ordering sweets at the end of each mission.” Shizuma noted mildly, his fingers drumming idly against his knee as he spoke. “Though, they at the very least have real meals alongside theirs.” 

Even if Ichirota did have to all but plead with Buntan half the time, that pathetic welp of a man. 

“Oh? I see. That is a good practice to keep, I suppose.” Itachi’s head tilted ever so slightly with notice. His tone mild, even as he moved along the edge of the conversation carefully, well aware of it as he nudged at the line between them with his foot. “Though, I don’t believe you’ve mentioned these teammates of yours priorly.” 

Shizuma paused for only a beat before nodding, lowering his knees from his chest and setting his hands atop his lap as they curled beside him. His attention finally turning back to the two, though only to let out a low huff.  

There was only so much he could cover in two days, after all, and his allies certainly were not at the top of the list priority-wise. 

“What more is there to mention?” Shizuma mused, “We’re mission partners, and they like sweets.” 

He shrugged loosely as he spoke, though his eyes did gain a spark of realization as he saw Kisame’s gills flutter in amusement in the corner of his vision. 

Ah. Then again.  

It wasn’t as though they were just anyone’s teammates. They were his.  

Which of course meant they had to be exceptional by a normal shinobi’s standards, and thus he supposed, were worth mentioning beyond this small footnote of similarity.  

“Buntan Kurosuki and Ichirōta Oniyuzu, both other chuunin of Kiri.” he offered the secondhand introduction, unable to stop the toothy grin which cast across his face as he saw Kisame’s eyes dilate just a bit in recognition. “Daughter of Lord Raiga and heir to the Oniyuzu clan, respectively.”  

He spoke proudly, setting aside the usual bitterness which would accompany the claim and allowing contentment to rest in its place.  

For here and now, such a thing meant something. 

Something which was, admittedly, questionable. 

But something nonetheless.  

“Raiga’s girl, hm?” Kisame asked, turning fully to Shizuma even as his hand remained lingering atop Itachi’s - the man listening silently from the side of the bed with an unreadable yet not quite irritated expression. Interested, perhaps?  

Shizuma watched them both carefully, eyes shifting between the two as Kisame mused, “So he has a pup of his own wandering around now…no older than two or three I’d say, considering his less than recent demise.” 

Something in his eyes different from the few spare times he had mentioned Zabuza - not necessarily pleased…but certainly not saddened in the least.  

“We’re about the same age, so yes, she should be toddling around her wretch of a mother’s legs right about now.” 

Shizuma hummed, sticking out his tongue in reflexive disgust as he thought back to the many conversations Buntan and he had shared over the matter. “Not that he would have known the difference regardless of whether he lived or died. Dining and dashing and all that…”  

Shizuma’s momentarily collapsed grin spread wider as Kisame’s gills fluttered in secondhand embarrassment, the man reaching up to rub his temple as Itachi’s head crooked further back towards his partner with an ever so slightly furrowed brow.  

“Ah…so vulgar.” Kisame mourned, shaking his head lightly before allowing his free hand to fall back down to his lap. “Still though…what a shame is it. Raiga and I may have had our share of disagreements, but even I can say surely that he would have taken quite the interest in knowing such things. If only you had splattered against our dock a few years earlier…” 

His pondering easy and considering, a look of only mild interest crossing his face. Shizuma watched it carefully, cataloging it in the back of his mind as he toyed with the rim of his shirt. 

Hm, so Raiga would have been at the very least interested to have known he had a daughter?  

It was something to consider. Something he was sure Buntan would find just as equally. Interesting. 

“As for the other - the Oniyuzu heir - it surprises me that they would have been put on a team with the likes of you and that girl.” Kisame continued without missing a beat despite Shizuma’s thoughts, his nose scrunching a bit as he suggested, “A tether? Or a watch dog?” 

His guesses fair, but missing the mark by a mile-wide shot. 

“Neither.” Shizuma shook his head, letting out a low huff of air in amusement as he sat the looming matter which was Buntan to the side for now. “For a variety of reasons.” 

Shizuma’s lips only curled further upwards as he saw Itachi’s brow raise briefly, a stark contrast to Kisame’s knowing look. 

Hm, yes, a slightly bitter and childish part of Shizuma scolded Itachi - perhaps if he would have at least heard him out in regard to the villages shortcomings the night prior he would know what he was referring to.  

Shizuma resisted the urge allow this snark to slip past his lips however, toying harsher with the edges of his shirt instead as he elaborated instead, “For one, we were never placed on a team together. These two were not part of my Genin team; no, that sorry lot is still stuck in the exam rotation.”  

“…Which is an entirely different ordeal.” he added as he saw the brief glances shared between the two. “One which is truthfully not all that important nor interesting once it is boiled down to its base.” 

Shizuma shrugged even as Itachi looked prepared to say something. 

Nope. He wasn’t going to be interrupted. Not again, or at the very least not today. 

“All it truly comes to is that they were not sufficient teammates, and once I was far enough along to be on my own, I saw no point in staying by their sides if they could not keep up. My Jonin agreed, and thus with his blessing I opted to take my exam alone and seek new allies which could keep up.” he spoke with a toothy grin despite the brief twitch of confliction in Kisame’s expression and Itachi’s barely noticeable frown. 

As if either had any room to cast judgement over him for kicking his old allies to the curve. 

“Which is how those two found their way to my team. Buntan thought it best to join me, to avoid the hassle of having to fight over the few spare high-stakes combat missions. An even split with much less work…plus our dear Ichirōta once he swallowed his pride enough to agree to join us and eat the one percent loss of the three-way split.”  

Even if he had been clicking his tongue and twitching his rigid form from head to toe the entire time - the bloody priss. 

Shizuma reached up, quietly clamping the palms of his hands together as he smiled at the thought.  

It was unfortunate, but the nature of things even so.  

They couldn’t all come out on top, after all. 

He understood.  

“It is an arrangement the Mizukage has never quite liked, but one he has learned to deal with. This combined with my own combing of Ichirōta’s records has been enough to confirm there are no acts of surveillance nor treachery afoot. As a matter a fact, between what I found and what he has conveyed, he is far more closely tethered to I than he is to the village.” 

Pride welling in Shizuma’s chest at the very thought, his cupped hands dropping to his lap as he tilted his head - musing towards the two, “Besides, with the state his clan has fallen to following the war, he would be a fool to try pressing such a wonderful arrangement.”

He gains a steady wad of cash and reclaims the glorious days he and his father so yearn for...honors his late mother...at a near perfect rate of success for mission claim...while having stable assurance of his mission partners’ competence.  

It was truly the best-case scenario for him, even if things had slowed since the Mizukage’s recent insistence on shoving him back into that damned academy... 

Jealous bastard was just upset they managed to properly rig the system. 

Spirits forbid they give the village a team it could be proud of after he went and tossed the seven swords in some ugly backroom, forgotten and unutilized.  

The bloody fool. 

“You’ve gathered quite the group of misfits, by the sounds of it.” Kisame mused with a wry smile, “Two children of former rogue swordsmen…two sons of disgraced clans…with a leader not born within Kiri. It’s quite the line-up of disgrace.”  

His smile unfaltering even as Shizuma’s dropped just a bit, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward; clicking his tongue with an unimpressed roll of the eyes.  

Really, now. 

“Yes, yes, it’s a team Kiri has to shortage of distain for at the moment. However, such a thing is only temporary.” Shizuma focused in on Kisame, lifting one of the hands from his shirt’s rim to point towards himself with a re-forced smile of his own. Unwilling to allow the village’s naive claims of disgrace to destroy the gold he knew was truly there. “It’s only a matter of time until the false peace he is so intent on showing off falls to pieces - and once that time comes, well, he’ll surely be singing a different tune.”  

No, he won’t be casting that condescending and exasperated look down towards them then.  

Not once they are finally able to tear the enemies to bits without restraint, to show him and the rest of the village all they are able to do. The safety they could promise, the suffering they could stomp down in earnest without relying on a cheap rug to sweep it beneath.  

All at the simple, simple, cost of acknowledging the wrongs which had been committed. Of paying them back for all the unjust suffering and endless disrespect they had thrown their way, unaware of the treasure trove of talent they were trying so hard to snuff out. 

Any day now, their time would come.  

Perhaps sooner than anyone could ever predict, if his talks with the land of water continued on as they had so far.  

“…Your wish to be there for your village in a time of crisis is a noble one.” Itachi spoke as he lifted himself up from the bed, back to Shizuma as he all but grit the words out despite his placid tone. His shoulders tense as he used his hands to smooth over his shirt, as though saying the words were as difficult as pulling out a tooth. 

…Was complimenting him truly so painful, Shizuma half scowled even as he inched further on the bed - nearing the two until he was a mere foot away from them both. His eyes narrowed a bit as he stared at the back of the man’s neck, debating the matter momentarily. 

Hm.  

He supposed it was a step up from the last time they had shared this discussion. 

“However.” Itachi turned to him, his dark eyes focusing in on Shizuma as he seemed to debate his words, his tone dangerously close to the same lectureous one Shizuma was slowly becoming unfortunately familiar with. His lips pressed into a firm line as he looked down at Shizuma, who had deflated just a bit at the shift. 

…Really now, did the man insist on making him backtrack on his words of praise already… 

Shizuma watched Itachi with a weary glance, his head ducting just a bit on reflex as he felt the man reach down to once more pat the top of his hair - smoothing out the disarray Kisame had put it in priorly, if just a bit even as he frowned in grim thought all the while. 

…Perhaps dragging out his disappointment in whatever it was he found so displeasing on purpose, perhaps utterly unaware of the volumes his slightly downcurved lips spoke… 

“It is a matter which is not of immediate concern.” Itachi finally spoke after a moment, seeming to decide upon something or another. “There is still plenty for you all to learn before such sacrifices will be necessary. So for now, you should allow yourself to focus your efforts on resting and learning well so that you might succeed once the time does come.” 

His gentle touch a sharp difference from the mourning edge in his voice. 

“…I know.” Shizuma allowed after a long moment, his lips pressed together slightly as he agreed to Itachi’s words.  

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for the night to finish off after that, Itachi’s hand lightly rising from his hair and shifting over to where the now empty plate sat to their side. His unspoken suggestion followed slowly by Shizuma, the younger shinobi slipping out of his bed to gather his things for a shower as the elder picked up. 

He dug through the drawers one by one, gathering everything from sanitaries to clothing to towels. Ready to make quick work of it and head to bed as the other had suggested, his urge to continue the night slowly disappearing the longer he stayed awake with such a full stomach - the plate Itachi brought having been full to the brim this time. 

Shizuma rolled the small collection of items together in the towel against his chest, his eyes turning to the two as he saw them beginning to make their way from the room; Kisame shaking his head briefly with a hand full of their clothing and Itachi silently with the empty dinner plate.  

Shizuma held his own hoard carefully, weary not to drop anything and have to retreat as he made his way down the hallway with Itachi.  

Kisame had slipped into their room with the clothing, leaving the two dark haired shinobi to walk steadily down the corridor. Parting ways only as they reached the bathroom he intended to use, neither speaking a word as he entered while the other continued on. 

He shook his head briefly, tossing the clothes on the counter and making quick work of hopping in the shower. 

Rinse off… 

Avoid the bandages… 

Wash his hair… 

Dry off… 

Done. 

Shizuma quickly moved from one to another, lest the warm water combined with the full feeling in his stomach leave him half asleep in the shower.  

No, he’d rather avoid that, he mused with a low huff as he moved to the sink - scrubbing his teeth until they were good as new. His head tilting back and he toyed with the slight abrasion on the roof of his mouth, poking and prodding at it with his finger. 

Hm. How obnoxious.  

“…Shizuma?” Itachi’s voice came from outside the door to his side after a moment more, sounding all too patient. “Are you finished?” 

Utterly unaware as the younger sent the door an unimpressed glance out of the corner of his eye, hand still half-stuck in his mouth as he frowned. Was Itachi waiting to escort him back to the room again? Had they not gotten past this earlier, when they had allowed him to make it back towards the room by himself upon arriving home? 

Apparently not. 

“Yes. I’m coming.” Shizuma answered after a brief moment, his hand lowering from its poking and prodding to instead be rinsed off in the sink below. His dirty clothes picked up one by one and wrapped in his now used towel, his sanitaries and such pooled in his other arm. He used the laundry filled hand to open to door, Itachi’s slightly taller form coming into view quite quickly.  

If Shizuma was any less of a man, he noted, he might find it a bit eerie. 

“Good.” was all Itachi said however as he turned on his heel once more, Shizuma quick to follow just as he had the day prior. Their footsteps near-silent as they made their way down the long hallway, passing by room after room until finally they made it back to theirs.  

Kisame’s ever-present form lingered in between the rooms, Samehada finally unstrapped from his back for the night. His light eyes trailing between Itachi and Shizuma as they each split off towards their respective rooms, a low hum of amusement leaving him as he stood by the latter’s side.  

Watching steadily with those focused eyes of his as Shizuma maneuvered his laundry-filled arms so that he could twist the knob; nudging the door open with his foot. 

Shizuma almost, almost, thanked the man when he reached out to hold the door open for him, but refrained as he heard the low noise and saw the too-interested hint in his eyes.  

Like a predator ready to pounce… 

Shizuma turned on his heel in precisely the right moment to duct and dodge the hand which reached out to pat his head, hopping to the other side of the room even as Kisame tittered idly from the doorway, “Running away again? Ah, what a bad habit you’re developing, Shizuma.” 

Shizuma scowled lightly as he tossed his dirty clothing in the laundry basket in the corner of the room, opening and closing his drawers while he placed everything back in its rightful spot. Eyeing Kisame out of the corner of his vision as the other remained parked in the doorway, door propped open despite their supposed parting for the night. 

“It’s not that I’m running. It’s that you’re lingering.” Shizuma shot back, awkwardly shifting so that he was half-standing behind the dresser as he finished. “Clingy man that you are.”  

“Mm. I’m not certain it is I who should be labeled clingy between the two of us.”  

“... Pardon ?”  

“Well…I’m only saying. I’m not the one trying to climb Itachi’s side like a remora every hour or so.” 

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed, gills fluttering in agitation. 

“No, of course not, you’re far too busy sticking to his hands at the very least . Like an overgrown suckerfish.”  

He watched as Kisame’s did in turn as well, his face flushing a slight purple even as he dismissed his suggestion.  

“Ha! Vulgar little thing you are, aren’t you? So much for that pretty face and silver tong-” 

“Kisame. Shizuma. It’s time to rest.”  

Itachi’s words cut through their debate, his voice slicing through the conversation even from the other room. His orders clear and decisive, leaving little room for argument even as the younger Hoshigaki let out a low huff. 

He himself knew he had little room to argue against it…and Kisame… 

Well. Kisame didn’t seem interested in the least in arguing against his partner’s orders. The bloody pushover. 

“Ah, of course.” Kisame nodded in agreement with Itachi, head turning towards the sound of Itachi’s voice as Shizuma began to roll into bed. His body curling up beneath the thick layer of sheets, wet hair drenching the pillow below as he waited for the other to take his leave.  

He watched Kisame from below the blanket as he laid, beady white eyes meeting crystal blue ones in a brief final stand-off for the night. Kisame’s thin smile of amusement for something or another sending needles down Shizuma’s spine.  

Gods damned clingy beast of a man that he was… 

“Need tucked in?” 

“Get out.” 

Shizuma cut his final jab short, holding the sheets tighter under his raised chin as he watched Itachi pull the larger man by the arm towards their shared room with all the force of an elk… 

The echoing sound of their “Night!” and “Goodnight.” ringing in his ears even as Itachi so calmly used his free hand to click the door shut behind Kisame. His troublesome husband delt with so swiftly. 

Lightly, Shizuma let out another low huff, rolling on his stomach and setting his head atop his pillow. Listening distantly for anything further but hearing nothing, the sound-proof walls hard at work no matter the hour he supposed. 

How wonderous. 

Shizuma nuzzled further into his pillow, shaking his head briefly as he sank into the oversized bed. The comfortable warmth of the sheets seeming almost unreal as he laid against them, the heaviness of his body slowly dispersing as he let his eyes slip shut against them. 

“Goodnight.” he mumbled after a moment, to no one in particular. His room dead silent as he lay there, absent of the steady breaths from the night before. While also being void of the usual ruckus outside his apartment's bedroom window. 

He was certain it would take him ages to fall asleep with the ringing in his ears. Even as he sank further and further into the bed; his fingers gripping the pillow beside him. He listened to the seemingly stretching silence - his own heartbeat drumming lightly in his ears as he held it to the cushion… 

… 

… 

… 

… 

… 

… 

… 

… 

Mmph. 

It was so bright. So loud. 

Shizuma couldn’t help but mourn over the thoughts with no shortage of annoyance as he rolled over in the bed, from his stomach and onto his back. His hands reaching up towards his face to rub away the sleep left within them, his long yawn doing little to ease the exhaustion which he felt weighing down on him. 

There were people shifting around outside the door…arguing over something or another as he turned on his side and curled his legs up against his chest. His eyes lingering on the worn wood of the exit for a split second before shifting to the window at his bedside, the bright neon colors from the festival outside seeming to coat the room in a dozen rainbow hues. 

His crystal blue eyes twitched briefly as he looked to them, hiding his face halfway in the sheets of his twin sized bed. The musty blankets filling his senses as he laid there, brows furrowing in brief confusion and annoyance. 

Had he fallen asleep? What had he been doing? Were his…was he late? Or was he… 

The gills on either of Shizuma’s cheeks twitched in agitation, his left hand reaching upwards to rub at his nose as he used the other to prop himself up in the bed. His face itchy and irritated, the feeling unwavering no matter how he rubbed at it. His head aching painfully from the blinding light, the loud undecipherable voices outside only growing louder by the minute. 

…What was going on out there… 

Shizuma slowly let himself slip off the side of the bed, his feet patting against the floor as he reached up to rub his eyes once more.  

They needed to be quiet…or…or… 

He moved step by step towards the door, itching uncomfortably at his short curly hair as he reached up towards the doorknob. Yanking and yanking it until finally it clicked, pushing and pushing until it swung open. 

The voices silenced in an instant, the room’s rainbow hues shifting red as his bare feet pressed to the cold wood floors of the conjoined room.  

The previously boisterous children standing side by side, hands folded in front of them with heads bowed in avoidance. Their faces blank and unmoving, as though they were frozen in place...or merely too afraid to so much as shift. 

Shizuma moved between them, brows furrowed as he took slow and steady steps further and further into the room. Circling the various small groups slowly, taking in their strange forms with no shortage of confusion.  

Listening as their hearts drummed uncontrollably loud in his ears, thumping and thumping until he was certain he would go deaf. The silence everlasting yet nowhere to be found as he stood in the echoing room, his hands sliding upwards to cover his aching ears.  

The relief never coming no matter how he pressed and pushed inwards on his own skull, his eyes narrowing in further agitation as small sniffles and sobs began to join in with the booming thumps of their hearts. Their heads bowing not out of respect, but rather, terror as they were wracked with their pitiful whines. 

"Silence!" 

His patience was torn and torn until their was nothing left at all, his sharp nails digging into the back of either of his ears as he finally willed himself to stomp downwards - the flood of tears turning from clear to murky red in an instant. 

Shizuma stepped back as it began to run towards him without cause, his previous advances into the room undone as the blood seemed to follow him back and into his corner no matter how he tried to dodge the puddles. His voice coming out perhaps a bit harsher than he meant it to as he held the wall behind him, his own heart joining in the unpleasant symphony as his hands slid down from his ears and onto the cool wood.  

“Be quiet! The lot of you! I- We- I haven’t even- I’ll-” he attempted to defend himself and threaten all at once, his fingers clawing into the wall behind him as he watched the impending river of blood.  

Very nearly collapsing on the spot as he felt a pair of hands rest on his shoulders from behind, a split second of relief and panic overtaking him all at once as he twisted his neck upwards to see who it was.  

Ita- 

Itai- 

Itako- 

Shizuma’s head swam uncomfortably as he looked up at the person behind him, their long black hair and empty eye sockets leaving a deep unease within his stomach despite the gentle smile lacing their lips.  

“Fathe…Matron…n…?” Shizuma asked, his body shaking as he looked between the person and the blood which had finally reached him, soaking his feet in a deep crimson red. The hand on his shoulder firm, aching faintly as he slowly pried his eyes back up from the ground and towards the other.  

Their gentle smile falling a bit as their brows pushed together, a concerned expression on their face even as the hands on his shoulders began tightening to a painful level.  

A sharp agony shooting through them the longer their hands remained, their fingers crunching in through the skin like it was made of hollowed out bread rather than flesh. Their fingers coated in blood as they stood, keeping him in place even as he finally summoned the sense to pull away - hissing out in his best attempt at bravery, “Let go, let go! That hurts, it hurts!” 

Shizuma’s hands dropped from the wall to reach for his shoulders, pulling and yanking the slender pale hands which rested there upwards. The flesh on his shoulders tearing and ripping as their fingers were nearly ripped from the holes, his eyes beginning to sting as he failed with each attempt. His body collapsing backwards into the persons knees before he slid down to the ground, blood soaking his pants and legs now as he felt their- her- hands pop out from his shoulders.  

The gaping holes remaining even as he twisted his body around – pressing himself to her legs.  

Face half buried within them as the gills on either of his cheeks snapped open and shut rapidly and without stop - his eyes clenching painfully open and shut as he heard her distant yet still familiar voice speak with a sickening amount of compassion, “I know, I know. It doesn’t feel good to hurt, does it, Shizuma?”  

The hand which had previously been finger deep in his shoulders now smoothing over his hair, running from the front of his scalp all the way down to the back. His chest tight, so very tight, as he forced the words to choke out one at a time, “N-No. It. It. Does. Not.”  

He wept against the woman’s legs, his arms holding them tightly as he tried beyond all odds to catch his breath. His chest impossibly tight as he clung to her, his heart shuttering on and off alongside the lights in the room as tried to fight off the drowning feeling.

He clung to her soothing voice, sinking himself into it even as he lost sight of everything around them.  

“That’s right. It doesn’t. But that’s what happens when you hurt others, isn’t it?” 

The consoling words leaving his heart squeezing painfully, the young Hoshigaki kicking pointlessly at the puddles of blood by his feet, his nose scrunching up against the woman as he argued, “I didn’t- I haven’t done anything- I haven’t-” his words cut off as he felt the grip on his hair grow tighter, his head craning back to lean into the hold with a low, pitiful whine. 

He hadn’t done anything, truly! He had only just woken up. He hadn’t. He hadn’t so much as raised a hand to them. They had- they had started it! He hadn’t- he hadn’t- 

Shizuma’s eyes clenched tighter, his lips beginning to drip as he melted further into the woman’s legs. Her presence feeling almost fuzzy the longer he lingered on it, his lightheadedness making it near impossible to focus on even the painful grip in his hair. 

His sobs echoing, and echoing, until they were all he could hear. His own rapid breaths leaving him shaking, the fingers which had previously held onto her legs weakening as the buzzing worsened and worsened. 

… 

… 

“…Shizuma.” the woman’s voice changed, the previously youthful pitch having deepened considerably.  

It’s roughness was a stark contrast to the hand on his head, which had slid downwards and now lingered on the center of his throat’s back - rubbing small circles round and round until finally his eyes managed to pry themselves open. 

He watched through hazy, disoriented eyes as the world around him seemed to shift. The harsh reds of the room changing to something softer, something more sincere. 

The sunlight filtering down through the trees landed warmly on his face, the wind blowing gently against him even as he hid from it in the shirt of the new woman. His legs tucked tightly beneath him as he slowly managed to focus his gaze on the item in front of him... 

A persimmon.  

A cut and ready permission, held in withered blue-green hands. 

Shizuma hid his face further in her shirt, clenching his still puffy eyes tightly once more. Ignoring the light coaxing rub on his neck, unwilling to so much as consider it as he heard the second familiar voice echo, “Shizuma.”  

Why must the world hate him so, so, much? What had he done? 

Shizuma paused, allowing a long moment to pass between them before he spoke again, reminding the stranger for what he was certain was the hundredth time, “I don’t like them.” his voice coming out as just a bit more of a whine than he had anticipated.  

Why did nobody ever listen? 

Shizuma pouted slightly as he felt her hands move from his throat to his shoulders, rubbing the ache which still lingered there away despite the injuries no longer remaining. Her words ever-patient as she reminded him, “I know; but you’re hungry even so, aren’t you?” 

Her voice caught between reasonability and pleading, her words laced inside and out with a distinct sadness and hope he so distinctly knew were hers.  

Hers... 

Because she... 

She was... 

“…Yeah.” he agreed, even as he felt the strange feeling of fullness rest in his gut. His fingers lowering from her shirt to hold his stomach as he spoke, a wave of unsteadiness falling over him once more as he tried to collect himself. 

Slowly, Shizuma turned his head, eyes opening blearily as he sat on the broad woman’s lap. His mouth slowly popping open as she fed him the sweet, sweet fruit piece by piece, his tongue dragging along the top of his mouth as he felt the odd texture it left behind.  

“And what do we say?” she asked, using her long sleeves to wipe his mouth. Undeterred even as he squirmed slightly at her attempts to clean the non-exisitant fruit juice from his lips. 

Her sleeve sliding upwards even as he stubbornly paused, the woman ever insistent as she worked to dab his snotty nose and pull the pointless niceties from his throat.  

“…Thank you.”  

He mumbled his words despite the low noise of disapproval it led to, shifting on her lap until he was able to look up at her.

Taking in every blurry line of her distorted face as she reached up to smooth over the gills on either side of his face - wiping the tears there next, as if it would make him the least bit more presentable with the gallons of blood still soaking his shirt and pants. 

Oh. The blood. 

He shifted slightly on her lap, trying and failing to squirm away from the steady hold around his waist. His attention foggy at best, blurry at worst. 

“…Mm’ going to make you bloody, Miss Yumi.” 

“Child, I was bloody long before you came along.” 

... 

... 

It was all on fire. 

Everything. 

...

...

First Yumi’s. 

Then Itako’s. 

... 

... 

He didn’t do it. 

... 

... 

He didn’t do it.  

... 

... 

He didn’t do it. 

... 

... 

But by the gods, he wished he had.  

Chapter Text

A sharp breath left Shizuma as his eyes finally snapped open for what was, hopefully, the last time that night.  

His chest rose and fell heavily as he remained tucked into his tiny ball, his body curving in on itself as he gripped the fluffy blanket snug under his chin. His gills fluttering unevenly as his gaze snapped from one side of the room to another, breath held in the back of his throat as he took in his blurry surroundings. 

It was dark - and quiet. 

The only light in the room being the dull white of the moonlight filtering in through the window, the uneven croaks of the frogs outside the only proof that time was unfrozen. 

Shizuma drug his eyes between the window and door, taking in their starkly different forms as he slowly managed to catch his breath. His body unmoving all the while, save for the tight clench of his fists against the blankets.  

He could feel his own heart drumming obnoxiously in his chest as he glanced half-consciously around the room, his eyes dragging from one spot to another. From his sword to the bloody bandages still resting in his trashcan. From the large dresser to his torn-to-hell bed. 

Shizuma’s eyes clenched shut as he pulled the comforter closer still to his chin, his shoulders and lungs stinging painfully as he intertwined his legs tightly together. His breaths leaving him quicker and quicker even as he channeled his unease into the fabric below. The blanket withstanding, even as he felt his fingers press deeply enough into it to reach his own palms. 

He was in the Akatsuki’s room. 

Kisame and Itachi’s room. 

His new room. 

His room. 

That was right.  

Things were finally right. 

There was no Matron.  

Only Itachi. 

There was no crispy old corpse. 

Only Kisame. 

A final long breath left Shizuma’s lips as he reopened his eyes once more, his gaze dragging from the window in front of him down to the bunched up sheets in hand. 

How pathetic. 

He continued to hold half of the fabric in one hand as the other reached up - the young Hoshigaki using his forearm to scrub away the pitiful remains of his tears.

The proof of his misery gone in no time, as though it were never there to begin with.

The only hint of his shame left being the faint puffiness of his eyes, which he was certain would remain either unnoticed or unverbalized if either Buntan or Ichirota were to arrive early for- 

Shizuma bit the back of this tongue, brows pinching together in annoyance as he threw the banket off him with perhaps a bit more force than was strictly necessary.  

He dropped his arms to his sides, willing himself up in one quick movement - his feet landing hard on the wood floors below as he glared the ground down.  

His brows furrowed as he reached up to reflexively scratch at the back of his head, a long puff of air leaving his lips.  

Dwelling on pains of the past (future?) without intent nor hope of being able to solve, let alone fix them. 

Ignoring real issues which truly deserved his time and attention for such sorry nonsense.  

How childish. 

Shizuma rubbed his feet together as he sat, a heavy frown lacing his lips as he listened without focus to the chorus of croaks outside his window. Their throaty drumming playing low in his ears as he sat, gripping either side of the bed. 

Minute after minute ticked by, slow and heavy, until finally Shizuma managed to pause in his fidgeting and raise his head to the ceiling above. 

He supposed he wouldn’t be finding sleep again for the night. Nor was he able to keep his mind occupied with lesson plans. Or lessons of his own for that matter, considering Itachi had yet to give him his material to study… 

Shizuma shook his head once more before he let it fall back down to shoulder level, standing as he began to drag himself over towards the light switch to get ready for the day.  

His sweat-damp clothes replaced with fresh ones, his hidden arsenal restocked, his hair once more made to cooperate, his bandages refreshed without more than a brief scowl at his own shaky hands. His form reshaped into something more presentable as he pulled himself together - the room dragged along all the while as he smoothed over his bedsheets and sat his dirty laundry and bandages in their respective spots. 

Perfect. Everything was just perfect.  

Shizuma let his hands smooth over his pants, blowing the hair which dangled to his right out of his face. He wasn’t quite sure how late, or early, it was. But it certainly wasn’t quite time for either Itachi nor Kisame to be awake, so far as he would imagine. 

No, it would likely be another few hours before they came-to; and until then…well. He was plenty able to entertain himself. Perhaps he could train a bit before they got up. It would be a shame after all to see Itachi bursting a blood vessel in his brow over it so early in the morning.

… 

Then again. The man did seem to have almost eerie senses as far as his ability to detect such things went, and he would rather not start the day with such a slight. The last thing he needed was for them to see him as unfit to even manage walking around freely and shove him back down to stage one. Stuck sitting locked in a room lest he wander off and into injury. 

He was far too capable to deserve such a fate, Shizuma noted dryly as a thin frown crossed his lips.  

Perhaps instead of training for the morning, then, he should simply take a walk. It was preferable to sitting in the room all alone for hours on end with nothing else to do, if anything. 

Besides. He could probably use the fresh air.  

A shinobi’s focus…was his drive…after all.  

Not to mention the good it would do for them as a whole.

...Yes, it would be helpful to set the precedent. 

Proof to the two that he would not vanish if he were allowed to wander further than eight feet from their sides…and a show of his capabilities to the others in the buildings.  

He would not go looking for a fight, of course, but it was probably best he get ahead of any false assumptions. It was one thing to hide and duct behind Itachi from Kisame…it was another to have a building full of shinobi thinking he was little more than a weakling clinging to his fathers’ legs. There was no need to go setting unnecessary targets on his back, nor a need to embarrass the two so.  

With this in mind, Shizuma nodded firmly to himself, letting out one final breath as he made for the door. Eyeing the sword on his end table…but deciding against it for now. He didn’t need his intentions to be misunderstood, after all, and it wasn’t as though he had any shortage of weapons to choose from up his sleeve.  

It was probably best not to go swinging a blade he hadn’t had a chance to properly practice with around anyway. 

He settled on leaving it behind for now, making a mental note to ask Itachi about the trap jutsu he’d seen displayed in his room a few nights prior. Just as soon as he managed to figure out how to without outing his snooping. 

The door shut near-silently behind him as he stepped into the dark hallway, not so much as a lamp left on as he made slow progress down the hall. No moonlight to guide him as he moved carefully from one room to another, his gaze sweeping over the large empty building. 

Not a soul out and about in either the kitchen nor dining room, let alone the commons area.  

The crowded rooms harder to traverse than the hallways as he began to second guess the common sense behind his plan which eventually left him standing in the middle of the front doorway.

In the pitch dark. At gods knows what hour.

Unsure whether he should bother turning on the light to see or merely turn tail back towards his room until he at least had a chance of crossing someone's path; saving himself the energy and risk alike at the mere cost of a small failure.

...But then again. The air did feel quite nice on his lungs. Even if the humidity was a bit much...

Shizuma scowled lightly at the dilemma, kicking idly at a rock near the doorway. No doubt kicked off someone's shoe before entering.

He watched the rock roll out of the doorway and into the dim street, the moon just barely lighting it with the misty rainclouds overhead. His feet moving one after another further and further in until finally he stood, staring up at the sky overhead. His eyes lost as they lingered on the distant moon, taking in the faint rays from below as light rain began to press his hair to his face.

…His soul very nearly leaving his body as something came down quick on his head, his neck turning sharply as he skirted further back and into the street with a glower of warning.

His weapons already pulled from his sleeves as he grounded his feet, glaring daggers at the person standing on the dark edge of the porch. Their form looming as they remained in place, hand still outstretched from the… 

The hat.  

The hat that they had just placed on his head. 

The hat that Konan had just placed on his head. 

Shizuma frowned, forcing his stance to ease just a bit as he retracted the weapons back away from his fingers and into the palms of his hands. His eyes switching briefly between the bamboo hat and the woman standing at the center of the porch, her amber eyes lingering on him from the doorway as she stood so very still. A tight frown on her face even as she mused lowly, “…So fast.” 

Not so much as shifting as Shizuma reached up to fix the hat atop his head, his own frown doubling in place even as he heard her praise. His crystal blue eyes stuck to hers from behind the hat as he tried to pin point what exactly to say to amend the situation. 

He had been hoping to run into some of the others, of course, but his plan hadn’t included being startled from behind by any of them. Being caught off guard due to his own focus on his thoughts, like the fool that he was, it was hard enough to recover from. Not even taking into account the error of mistakingly pulling his weapons on his fathers' superior.

How to respond without admitting to his own inadeptness - how to recover from the frankly embarrassing display? 

He opened his mouth, preparing to choke out a half-baked attempt at shifting the attention to her, when she continued.  

“Were you planning on going somewhere?” she inquired after a long moment of silence, finally moving as she stepped easily down from the porch. Her eyes still locked onto his all the while, unmoving even as she continued so casually.  

The hint in them telling him her intentions were anything but. Though he couldn’t quite place why. 

“…No.” he answered after a long minute, his eyes narrowing a bit as he finally turned the thought around enough to understand the force behind her step. So that’s how it was. “I only wished to go for a walk. Unless there is a problem with this?” 

Shizuma kept his tone even, unchallenging even as he carefully toyed the line between politeness and accusation. His lips turning upwards and into a smile even as he saw her own frown deepin in thought. 

Shit. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Must he run into one of the four people with a degree of hierarchy over him? Could it not have been any number of others he was hoping to distinguish himself to? Deidara? Hidan? Sasori, even? Perhaps not Kakuzu… 

Shizuma took a single step back as he saw her take one more forward, leaving a small gap between them. Her eyes still drilling holes through his skull even as he kept the polite smile up, biting his tongue in annoyance at his own foul luck.

“No…of course not.” Konan spoke after a long moment, reasoning, “Though you may want to put on a coat first. It would be a shame for you to catch a cold and die now. Itachi and Kisame…I imagine they’d be quite displeased."

Shizuma resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his smile faltering just a bit.

Tch. Was that so? 

“Thank you, but I doubt a cold will be enough to do me in, Miss Konan.” Shizuma reasoned, his smile only lowering further as he saw her tun on her heel, motioning after her. Not so much as bothering to check if he was coming, so certain that he was.  

...

He let out a low huff to himself as he followed her, watching as she paused by the coat rack. The woman merely pointed to the new coat from their shopping trip.

Watching him like he was a fucking dog as he followed her silent order, his brows furrowed. 

At least there was no one around to see it, he supposed.  

“Thank you.” she spoke as he finished sliding the coat on, tilting her head back towards the door and motioning him back out once more. Her own hat lifted from the hook and slid upon her head.  

Ah. Hold on now. 

“I do not require company.” Shizuma asserted even as he followed her out the door, his smile no longer anywhere to be seen as he followed her to the porch. The door clicking shut behind them as they walked, her delicate frame plowing past his objections with a simple hum of agreement.  

“Perhaps not, but I would like some, if you would oblige. The patrol routes are quite long, and I’ve yet to run into any others so far.” she mused, “A rather odd occurrence, all things considered…though I suppose it may still be a bit early yet.”  

She spoke easily, once more not so much as bothering to look back as she walked forward. 

Shizuma’s brows furrowed even as he continued following her, the younger shinobi shoving down the hesitance in his gut. He supposed this had been what he was after, to some extent…yet the ease with which it came left an odd weariness within him. 

“Mm. If you would like.” Shizuma allowed after a long moment, shaking off the prior embarrassment as he caught up to her easy pace.

His back straightened as he walked just a bit behind her, careful to keep his station known while keeping a steady hold on the rest of his dignity. A good relationship with one of the two leaders of the group was hardly anything to dodge, after all.

Besides, at least now he knew it was early in the morning rather than merely late in the night.  

“I would.” Konan confirmed mildly, walking along the outskirts of the building with easy steps.

Her words dying down as they walked, seemingly just as unsociable today as she had been yesterday despite her insistence on his joining.  

Chapter Text

Shizuma walked at an easy pace behind the woman, his eyes drifting over her slightly taller form. Watching, intently, as her eyes swept from side to side with each passing street. Each one as empty as the last, the seemingly never-ending rain leaving the streets soaked and cold. 

The frogs surrounding so very quick to fill the silence as they walked, their song seeming so much louder from the outside of the building. Their small forms hopping here and there if he paid close enough attention, their foggy green eyes watching them under the moonlight. 

Hm. Perhaps he should have made himself some breakfast before venturing outwards. The very sight made him yearn for crisped frog legs - though he supposed it was a bit late now. 

Turning his attention from the small, slimy beings to the elder shinobi, Shizuma once more summoned a curved smile to his lips. Watching as she moved further and further from the hideout and towards town, step by step. 

Her movements so very familiar and practiced, as though she had done the same thing every day for the last decade. Unneeding of either light nor guide as she traveled the muddy roads…not unlike he himself was back home. 

“Mm, you’re patrolling rather early today, aren’t you Miss Konan?” Shizuma began, trying not to take offense as he saw her sigh lightly at his question. After all, if he were going to get on her good side, he couldn’t merely walk in silence with her. “Or is it always at such an hour?” 

“It is rather early.” Konan agreed after a moment, “However, it’s not any more so than usual. It’s not as though enemies will be attempting to sneak in during broad daylight, after all. So it makes the most sense to have our guards up in the dark hours.”  

"I see.” Shizuma nodded from behind her, watching the side of her face as he walked. Fair point. “Still. It’s quite a lot to ask of someone of your position, isn’t it? Having to wake so early for something as trivial as patrol.”  

“It’s not trivial.” she corrected with an even shake of her head. “It’s important work, making sure our village is safe. Pein may do the majority of the heavy lifting when it comes to such things…but I do wish to help were I can. If I have nothing better to do, then there is certainly no harm in certifying that no one is slipping past the barriers he has in place.” 

She lectured, her eyes focused, “Besides. It gives the people of the village a visual reminder that they are safe, and allows them a chance to seek me out for aid with lesser issues.” 

Shizuma supposed it was a fine enough reason.  

Having one of the leaders of the village wandering around, so easily accessible…it was simultaneously so very brilliant and so very foolish. It painted an unnecessary target on her back…which also allowing her to see so, so much more than he imaged she would ever manage to from the comfort of the village’s central building. 

It was quite the double edged blade.  

“Ah, I see, see.” Shizuma nodded along as she spoke, turning her words over in his mind as they passed by store front after store front. The first sparks of twilight breaching past the tips of their roofs, tinting the dark sky in shades of blue rather than black. “They’re quite lucky to have such attentive leaders.” 

Konan’s amber eyes shifted over towards his, matching crystal blue ones between the light pitters of rain. Her brows furrowed just a bit, as if to say something, before she discarded it. Replacing it with something new so very quickly. 

“I suppose they are.” Konan nodded, eyes closing only briefly before she tilted her head towards the closed blinds of the passing houses. Watching them intently as she hummed idly, “The Akatsuki takes quite good care of it, when it isn’t busy causing mayhem in the streets.”  

Utterly unblinking as Shizuma tilted his own head a bit, blinking at the side of her face as she spoke.  

Mayhem, was it?  

“Kisame and Itachi seem particularly fond of it, on the rare occasion they’re within the village walls.” she noted, her eyes slipping over towards a shop as it’s lights flipped on from within. The vague silhouette of a man shifting around inside, moving slowly from one edge to the other as he started his day so very early. “Always stopping here or there for weapons and tea.” 

 Her voice so casual, as though it were not in the least bit odd for her to be keeping such close tabs on the organization’s members… 

Shizuma slowed slightly, sending the back of her head an unimpressed glance.  

Hm. No wonder she and Itachi seemed to get along so well.  

Both so, so, eerie. 

“They seem to have made themselves quite comfortable here. Though I suppose such a thing could happen anywhere, should one linger there long enough.” Konan mused ahead of him, her chin nodding forward in acknowledgement as slowly the first signs of life began to spark throughout the village. “…With any luck, it won’t take long for you to settle in just the same.”  

Not so much missing a beat as she spoke, unaware as Shizuma’s brows furrowed behind her.  

She made it sound as though he would remain here forever.  

After a long moment, Shizuma shook his head from behind her. His eyes trailing over the few spare people here or there, lingering on them carefully as he appeased, “I’m certain it won’t. It’s not as though I’m unused to residing in foreign lands, after all.”  

Even if he would much rather be in Kiri…getting to finally lay eyes on the bloody mist he had spent so much time trying to recapture. He supposed this was better than the dreary lights and unsteady drumming of his modern day village. If just a bit.  

“Besides. Kisame has been a nice enough reminder of the mist, I’d say.” he hummed his praise idly, undeterred even as he saw the brief glance the woman sent him out of the corner of her eyes. 

A brief spark of amusement lingering there, upfaulting even as the rest of her expression remained flat.  

“...Though I can’t claim to disagree, not many would venture so far as to call Kisame, ‘nice’, as you say.” the elder shinobi merely mentioned before turning her attention forward and to the others surrounding once more. 

Though her head tilted just a tad bit as she seemed to listen for his words… 

Shizuma moved forward just a bit, standing just barely behind her as he gave the woman a toothy grin - his gills flapping open in excitement even as he so calmly tittered, “Yes, well, not many understand the charms of the bloody mist, do they?”  

His amusement at the thought unending even as another long sigh escaped Konan, her head shaking briefly as she walked on. Impossible to read as ever, unyielding in her stone-faced exasperation as she hid her expressive eyes away.

Shizuma trotted along behind her despite this, weaving from her left to her right as they walked. His pleased expression only growing as he heard her low voice utter, “I suppose not…”  

The silence reclaiming them for only a brief moment before Shizuma felt her gaze fall onto him once more, her focused eyes taking him in out of the corner of her vision. Eyes scanning him up and down, unstopping even as Shizuma kept his own locked onto hers with a pleased glance of his own. 

His gills flittering despite himself as she spoke once again, hands folding behind his back as he puffed up a bit at her perceived praise. “…Truly, the two of you are so very alike. There must be something...unique, in that mist.” 

“Mm, certainly.” Shizuma agreed, his eyes crinkling together as he smiled despite the words walking a thin line between insult and approval. His hands held tight behind his back as they turned a corner, beginning to circle back towards the central building via the outline of the village’s tall walls. “That’s something I’ve heard quite a lot, long before I reached this time, I can assure you.” 

There perhaps having been a bit less lee-way to the previous utterers’ tones, but the words having transpired all the same. Their words just as warm in his chest then as hers were now, their pulsing eyes just as meaningless to him as her bland ones.  

Regardless of whether the others saw it as a good thing or not, he was pleased by it all the same. Their lack of ability to understand not meaning the least bit to the pre-teen. 

“Is that so?” Konan merely drawled on ahead of him, her gaze shifting back towards the back of the buildings and tall outer walls. Seemingly content to allow him to nod firmly behind her, chattering on with ease as he made himself quite comfortable on her good side. 

“Quite.” Shizuma hummed easily, his hands reaching up from behind his back to run his hands idly over his own fluttering gills. “Supposedly, I got a fair bit from his side of the gene pool. His height, his father’s eye color, his mother’s nose, his predator stare, his electroreception, his rabid behavior, his bioluminescence- to some degree- though that one is an observation of my own, which I highly doubt came from Itachi-” 

Shizuma’s teeth pressed together as he let out a low huff of air from his gills. “Though, there’s quite a lot they say I must have gotten from him as well.” 

“Oh?” Konan hummed along, seeming to half-listen as they turned another corner.  

Her eyes once more glancing back at him as he neared further, practically on her flank as he continued. Not wishing to overstate Kisame’s claim to him by any means…but significantly less certain when it came to the Konoha man.  

“Mhm. My hair, for one. My eye shape, for two.” he mused, considering briefly before adding, “Likely my study capabilities as well, considering many didn’t imagine them coming from Kisame. My speed a bit of a draw between the two, according to my classmates and their silly little data cards.”  

Though. He supposed he couldn’t blame the fools too much.

Not when he didn’t imagine there were many surviving accounts from the two to go off of...and certainly not from anyone willing to supply that ridiculous company with information for their petty little trading cards. 

Their petty, inaccurate, trash-heap worthy cards. 

Foolish enough to claim the two’s attack stats were below that damned Seventh Hokage. As if they would know... 

“Ah, that would be Itachi, more likely than not. With Kisame being a close second…” Konan finally spoke after a long second, her body pausing as they made it to the half-way point along the wall. Her hand holding it steadily as she turned to look him over from top to bottom. “Though that wasn’t exactly what I was referring to initially.” 

“Oh?” Shizuma paused in his step, his hands falling down to either of his sides as he rubbed his fingers together idly. His head tilting to the side and up just a bit as he matched the woman’s eyes. 

“I was referring to the ‘charm’ of the bloody mist you speak of.” she corrected, tilting her head forward and towards the center of the village once more. Leading him down the final route they had yet to take, towards the many lively apartments “The one which allows you to see Kisame’s true nature for what it is.” 

The woman not seeming to notice at all as Shizuma sent her a brief glower from ahead, following her route with his head turned sharply so he could still see her.  

There was no need to word it so sappily. 

“I almost have to wonder if it’s the same mist which brought you forth from your room at barely four in the morning, wandering the building with such a pale complexion you’d think you’d either seen a ghost…or become one.” she remarked so easily, unflinching even as he turned fully around - his glower doubling as his teeth reflexively bared into a tight smile.

Warning, so very strongly, for her to ease the line of questioning if she wished to keep the conversation at hand pleasant. 

“Yes, well, I’ve seen many ghosts these last few days.” Shizuma reminded her, eyes firm even as she slowly rose a brow. “Not that such things matter terribly. A corpse is a corpse, dead or alive. Faded or bright.”  

He turned on his heel, his hair bouncing a bit as he sped up his pace. Hand waving idly, uninterested even as he heard Konan’s brief objections, “I don’t believe that's-” her words dying out before she could finish them. 

Her brief attempt to poke and prod at his display of weakness stomped down in an instant, destroyed before it could truly begin.  

Her rude hints towards the same for Kisame slashed on his behalf.

The woman’s agitated sigh lingered in his ears as they continued to walk, his eyes now shifting back behind him to watch her.

Her head turned to the side in displeasure, that blank stare having reclaimed her face.  

Her failings seemingly accepted, if at the cost of the previously pleasant conversation. 

Shizuma’s shoulders sagged, just a tad, as he folded his hands behind him once more. His pace slowing as he twisted his steps so that he was once more behind her, his head poking around her shoulder with a huffy smile. 

Really now. There was no need to be agitated when she had been the one to start such nonsense. He had been perfectly content with their prior small talk. 

He pressed his line of walking close and closer, eyes stuck on Konan as he tried to will the conversation back towards something more pleasant. His lips stuck curling upwards as he opened his mouth to repair the brief damage and-

…Shizuma let out a quiet hiss as he felt the semi-familiar sensation of a finger flicking his nose, his smile falling from his face immediately as his hands rose - wrapping around either side of his nose to defend it from any further attacks. His focus blurred for a small, brief moment as he stumbled along behind her.  

“Excuse you, Miss Konan!” he warned, thrown off by the sudden attack to his person which was neither violent enough to warrant a defense nor small enough to be ignored. His body unsteady for just a moment as he continued following her, his unfocused eyes shooting between the nosy onlookers to glare in warning and her unapologetic form to demand an explanation. 

His brows furrowing further as he only received a brief shrug in response, her steps ever steady as she drug her eyes away from him and towards the  approaching central building. “Kisame has mentioned before that this is how one deals with unruly pups, and it seemed to work fine enough yesterday.”  

Not a speck of apology in her voice as she walked.

“Kisame is a liar.” Shizuma asserted, still holding his fuzzy feeling nose as he followed the elder shinobi perhaps a bit too closely. His feet practically on top of hers as he heard her low sigh and felt a pair of delicate hands rest on either of his shoulders, her hands guiding him forward so that he was in front of her as they marched along towards the looming central building.  

Konan’s voice all too skeptical as she mused, “Somehow, I doubt that is the case.”

Chapter Text

Shizuma slipped through the front door - tossing his shoes, jacket, and hat off as they finally made it back to the central building. His feet padding through the few empty rooms up front and towards the dining area where he could feel Kisame’s familiar chakra.  

He pointedly did not look back as Konan slowly continued on behind him, her lingering presence following him through the main door and towards the dining room. Her hands lingering by her side now that he had slipped out of them, amber eyes stuck to the side of his face as Shizuma pointedly did not return the favor. 

“Ah, you’re up earlier today, Shizuma.” Kisame spoke from his side, beady white eyes drifting between the woman who seemed to have made herself quite comfortable sitting at the table alongside Kakuzu and the younger Hoshigaki which had made a beeline for his side. A low, just barely audible huff of amusement leaving his gills as he looked down at the ire-filled form of his son. “Having quite a busy morning, it seems?” 

Not a shred of the earlier misplaced pity to be seen as Shizuma hardly resisted rubbing his twitching nose; looking up at the taller shinobi with a brief scowl. Kisame’s knowing expression not amusing him in the least.

“Not quite.” Shizuma pointedly did not allow Konan the satisfaction of his upset as he kept his head high, leaning around the taller man to see what it was he was cooking. “Miss Konan merely asked for company in her walk, and I obliged.”  

His eyes landing on the wonderful sight of an omelet array as he spoke, the vague scent in the air making a bit more sense as one of the three were slid into his hand by Kisame. “Ah. I see. How helpful.”  

The man’s critical and mildly doubtful gaze not lost on Shizuma as the younger took the plate, his head tilting to the side a bit as he let out a low huff. 

Really now, did he seem so rotten to the elder shinobi that he was unable to believe even that much? 

“Very.” Konan butted in from the table, leaning back a bit in the chair as she waved Shizuma over. Her tired, dull eyes unimpressed as Shizuma’s legs stubbornly locked into place.  

His brows pressed together as he felt Kisame set a hand on his back, pushing him towards her in equal strides as he himself walked towards the table with his own plate - the two sitting among the small group in no time.  

Kakuzu to Kisame’s side, blessedly ignoring them, Konan to his, unblessedly not.  

Shizuma frowned thinly between Konan and Kisame on either of his sides before allowing his head settle in between - his attention turning to his food as he let out a silent huff. 

Hands folded easily in his lap as he mimicked Kisame’s waiting stance, the two seemingly stuck in time until finally Itachi began to make his way out and towards the group. 

Not so much as seeming to blink as he took his plate, setting himself easily on Konan’s opposite side.  

His eyes lingering heavily on Shizuma as they sat, just as tired as the older woman’s as he gave his half-nod in greeting - his frail hands lifting up to begin eating, seeming to release Kisame from his own waiting.  

The two ate slowly in their respective spots, unspeaking as Shizuma did the same from his own. His ire lessening the longer he remained at the table, the fluffy omelet easing the brief feeling of hunger in his stomach. 

…His eyes trailing up to glance at the two out of the corners of his eyes occasionally, only to dip back down to the matter at hand an instant later… 

“I have my clones in the room writing out your resources for the day. As does Kisame.” Itachi spoke after a long moment of silence, pausing to chew on his egg for a brief moment before continuing, “Both he and I have much we must do today, but should you run into any issues or have any inquires. An empty scroll has been left for you to make notes which we can discuss tonight. Take breaks as necessary.”  

His words sounding closer to a mission report than Shizuma was completely sure Itachi realized…though the younger did not object even so.  

Shizuma’s lips curved upwards as he held his chopsticks in hand, nodding easily in agreement to the other's order despite his slight ire at once more being kicked back to the room.  

“Understood.” Shizuma mused out easily in reply, making a mental note of his words.  

Between the two of them, there should be plenty to keep him occupied throughout the day - plenty which he was more than interested in and near certain he would be able to find questions within.

Their knowledges a treasure trove he never would have imagined he’d be able to stumble across, one which he had no intentions of wasting. Not when he had spent so much time trying in vein to find these very answers on his own. 

Besides. It gave him a good opportunity to both prove he was capable of doing as they bid him and take a look around now that daylight had broke. No doubt, there would be plenty of others abound for him to run into during his breaks in his studies. 

If he managed to balance things right, he may be able to both meet the lot of them by the weeks end and show his skill in studying off.

Perhaps, despite Kisame’s words the day prior, he’d manage to show them he was plenty capable of lending a hand despite his injuries. 

If not with Itachi’s backlogged paperwork, with the weapon stock.  

He’d only have to focus, and continue his work in easing his way onto the organizations good side. Perhaps a bit better than his first attempt, which he still wasn’t completely sure over. Konan’s mild expression making it impossible for him to tell whether he had succeeded in his efforts or set himself bounds behind.  

Ah. He supposed time would tell.  

It was only his third conscious day, after all.  

Surely there was just a bit of lee-way to be found. 

Shizuma took another bite of his egg, his expression unwaivering even as he watched Itachi’s brows pinch in a bit in preemptive exasperation. His own food chewed silently in his mouth as he watched Shizuma so carefully, so very doubtfully. His voice mild as he finally swallowed, noting, “I hope you do.”  

Itachi’s words not a bit more trusting than Kisame’s had been a few moments prior, as though they had any reason to cast such doubts towards them. 

Shizuma pointedly did not allow himself to twitch or shift under the unwarrantedly weary gazes. 

Not Itachi’s. 

Not Kisame’s. 

Not Konan’s. 

Not Kakuzu’s- 

Ah. Well that wasn’t fair in the least. He’d certainly not done a thing to deserve such weariness from him.  

He had hardly so much as blinked in his direction!

Shizuma kept his eyes turned downwards as he focused on the meal, careful to keep his mannerisms polite and his lips turned up despite his inwards objections over their suspicious gazes.  

How utterly annoying.

“…Mm. You’re in an awfully odd mood this morning.” Kisame spoke to his side as he continued his breakfast. His elbow piercing Shizuma’s side in an instant, even as the younger shifted in his seat to avoid the mild blow. “Get all of your bratting out of your system last night? Or did Konan scare it out of you this morning?”  

His lips quirking up in playfulness in precisely the same moment Shizuma’s tilted down, his brows furrowing as he let an angry huff escape from his gills at the teasing.  

Really, Itachi had already sabotaged his chances with Konan, and now Kisame would do the same with Kakuzu?  

Would he not be allowed to have one, single, person in this organization not think of him as a nuicence before he was even able to intoduce himself? Were his attempts to set a good first impression so pointless? 

“Neither, I’ll have you know.” Shizuma’s brow twitched as he felt a second nudge to his sides, pointedly refusing to so much as dodge let alone play along with the horseplay as he grounded his feet to the floor below with chakra. His lips forced back up and into a smile as he used all his hard-learned self restraint not to turn and kick the man square in the hip. “Believe it or not, I can be quite civil when I’m not being antagonized left and right.”  

His efforts slowly coming to furition as he watched the man’s limbs finally move back to himself, his beady white eyes just as doubtful now as they had been a moment ago. A low huff of disbelief sounding off from beside Shizuma  as the elder shinobi tittered, “If you say so, bratling.”  

The man unwavering in his words even as Shizuma allowed himself to send him a brief, brief glare. His cutting eyes sent to the elder in warning for only a moment before he turned back to his breakfast, plopping a piece of egg in his mouth as he returned to his prior pleasantness.  

Really, suspicious over good behavior. 

With the way Itachi and Kisame were acting, one would think they wanted him to be tossing plates of food at them and kicking at everything in his path. 

“You two…” Itachi shook his head from his spot beside Konan, as though he were not just as much part of the problem. His dark eyes flittering between them as he sat the final piece of his breakfast in his mouth, standing up in one easy motion soon thereafter. 

…Somehow giving the impression that he was looking down upon them before he had so much as started standing up, not to mention afterwards… 

Kisame’s dopy smile continued to his side even with the mild scolding, his hands easy at work as they scraped the last bit of the shredded omelet into one small corner to eat. Not so much as seeming to blink as Itachi walked past them, beginning to rinse his dish off in the sink with a brief sigh.

The dark haired man’s gaze barely turning towards Shizuma as the younger hurried after him to do the same with his dish - his brows furrowing as the man swiped his dish away to rinse it on his behalf.  

“We will be stopping by around lunch to gather you.” Itachi spoke from his side as he rinsed off their dishes, dark eyes never once lifting from the plate at hand as Shizuma stood idly to his side. “Until then, I imagine you can keep to our agreement on your own?” 

His voice pointed as he spoke, the vague reminder of his agreement to behave not lost of Shizuma even as he felt his own gaze reflexively tick back towards Konan.

“Mhm. Of course.” Shizuma assured, his attention shifting back to the elder shinobi a mere second later.

...His pleasant expression twitched down just slightly as the other merely nodded, turning back towards the now standing Kisame to gather the other’s plate for washing. His movements almost robotic as Shizuma watched them, the younger shinobi shifting forward just a bit as he saw Kisame come up behind him in his periphial.  

A long, drawn out huff of mild aggitation leaving him as he felt the other’s chin land on the top of his head, two large blue hands coming down in one easy movement to rest on either of his shoulders. Kisame’s gaze locked onto Itachi likewise, even as he bent down at such a ridiculous angle.  

“Mm. Is being antagonized from the top any of an improvement?” Kisame inquired, so very forward in his questioning even as Itachi shook his head briefly to the side. Shizuma’s limp surrendering doing little to dissuade him from his actions. 

A long moment passed before finally Shizuma allowed, “A bit.” his arms folding neatly in front of him as he allowed the other his brief teasing. At the very least, well aware that he would soon be free of it once the three split off towards their own work for the day. 

He just had to be the bigger person. 

At the very least, metaphorically.  

“Good.” Shizuma could feel the other lift up an off his head, the younger’s neck reflexively crinkling forward a bit as he felt a hand land atop it. Utterly ready for his hair to once again be ruined mere moments after he had finally fixed it, and so very grateful when it wasn’t. 

His feet pressed idly together as he continued to stand, arms crossed with a frown of mild embarrassment. Feeling as Kisame’s hand rested atop his head, unmoving as the other stood back to his full height at Shizuma’s side. His crystal blue eyes slowly casting upwards to look at the other out of the corner of his vision…watching as the man so patiently waited for Itachi to finish putting away the now dry dishes. 

“Should you need anything. Itachi will be down that hall, third door on the right.” Kisame spoke after a brief moment, his free arm stretching out in the opposite direction of their sleeping quarters. Only to shift behind them a moment later. “And I myself will be in the final room, closest to the back exit.” 

His hand coming down lightly as the man gave his head one final pat, his sharp teeth in full view as he warned - assured? - him, “Kakuzu and Sasori have even so kindly agreed to leave you be for now, so you shouldn’t have to worry about having any of your bits stolen before death should you come seeking us."

“So long as you stay out from under our feet.” Kakuzu finally spoke from the table, his inhuman green eyes lifting over his paperwork for the first time since Shizuma had arrived to mildly correct Kisame’s words. The younger’s eyes sticking to his briefly, unsure whether to hold his ground or metaphorically bare his neck to appease the ancient man. “Get in our way, and we will be splitting your organs and outer shell between ourselves.” 

His words blunt and to the point as he shifted to the next paper in his little stack, his gaze falling down on the new sheet and away from Shizuma’s still frozen eyes. Undeterred even as Konan’s brows pressed together by his side. 

“Kakuzu. I believe both you and Sasori agreed to keep your part-hunting for those outside of our organization?” 

“We did, and we are. I don’t see a coat on the brat, do you?” 

Shizuma’s eyes narrowed as he watched the two face off for a brief moment, Konan’s eyes drilling into Kakuzu’s skull in warning while the elder merely continued shifting through paper after paper. Uninterested in furthering the discussion now that he had said his peace - or lack there of. 

The younger Hoshigaki let his gaze fall after a brief moment, setting his sights on the crease of Itachi’s sandals as he saw the other finally turn to them; finished in his work. The hand on his head a bit heavier now, even as Shizuma mumbled passively, “That’s a fair enough condition, I suppose.” his own private reservations about their words held to himself for now. 

He shouldn’t have to worry about any of his bits being stolen ‘before death’, hm? 

Shizuma wasn’t certain whether he should be grateful or annoyed at the prospect and all it implied. 

But then. He hardly had any intention of dying as it was, so…he supposed it should be fine. 

Probably.  

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long before the three finally began to split for the day, each going their own way. Itachi to the side, Kisame to the back, and Shizuma to the slowly familiarizing halls which led to their rooms.  

He kept his focus on the matter at hand as he took steady steps out of the room, not allowing his gaze to drift back towards either Kisame and Itachi’s fading forms nor Konan and Kakuzu’s steadily quieting discussion. The group slowly left behind as he was once more left to his own devices, his quiet footsteps the only sound to be heard as he walked down the long hallway. 

The vague forms of Kisame and Itachi’s clones were caught in the distance, their arms stretched out as they each handed him a decently sized scroll. The two giving little more than a nod before they vanished, fingers twisting to release each of their seals simultaneously. 

Hm. Shizuma held the large rolls of paper to his chest, looking between them and the empty spot where the two’s likenesses had once stood. It seemed they’d been quite busy this morning. 

Shizuma’s lips curved upwards in light amusement, letting go of the slight stiffness which had previously overtaken his body. His stance shifting so that he could hold the scrolls in one hand as he moved to open his bedroom door, stepping in and allowing the two to roll carefully out of his arms and onto his bed.

At least the elder shinobi had left him plenty to do. 

He shut his door behind him before crawling up onto the bed, shifting himself around until finally he was comfortable.  

He leaned back against the headboard, his legs spread out on either side of him as he looked between the scrolls. His hands reaching up to pull his hair back into a temporary ponytail, eyes focused as he debated momentarily which to begin with.  

The Uchiha …he knew next to nothing of.  

The Hoshigaki…he knew only sparingly.  

The two clans so vastly different from his limited understanding of them, only united in their mutual destruction. Their vibrant pasts and plentiful people diminished over the course of a mere few years, their remaining few left so alone…soaked in the shame and misery of the last decade. Unable to stop the rot as it spread further and further down and into the very core of its last remaining members’ beings. 

One having been allowed to live in peaceful bliss, unaware of the last remaining smudge of filth on their clan’s history...the other painfully knowing and unable to rid themselves of it no matter how they scrubbed and scrubbed. 

Shizuma’s eyes closed briefly, the young shinobi taking a long, silent breath as his thoughts shifted between the two.

The shadowy figure he had seen kneeling at Zabuza’s grave...and the dozens of elders which had loomed over him year after year – waiting so steadily for each and every one of his mistakes to come to light so that they might scorn him for it in a rare show of acknowledgment. 

Nothing better to do than punish him on behalf of all those who wished they had the knowledge or authority to.  

The weak old hags.  

So bitter in their loss of glory that they failed to see the opportunities they had to regain it.  

Shizuma supposed he would just have to see what it was they so dearly missed. The secrets so sacred he wasn’t so much as allowed to hear of one or two from anyone besides his fellow scapegoats.  

He lifted the scroll which Kisame’s clone had handed him, setting Itachi’s to the side for now. The paper from the former unrolled carefully, allowed to roll out and across the length of the bed as he lifted the top up to his eyes. 

Their founding legend, hm? 

And a quite lengthy one at that. 

Shizuma eyed the paper with amusement, quick to begin his work as his eyes ran through row after row - taking in the information with ease as he worked from bottom to top. 

Paragraph after paragraph disappearing as he took in the ancient and wisdom filled text- 

Which amounted to little more than a cartoonish description of a group of sharks, so very brave and determined in their skills that they sought to conquer the lands after they had their way with the sea.  

Kisame’s cheeky note at the bottom, which reminded him that sharks as a species predated most stars, doing little to help the outrage he felt burning in his skull. 

What. Was. His. Fucking. Problem? 

Shizuma scowled down at the scroll, brows furrowed in agitation as he debated whether or not to use one of the spare scrolls they had given him to begin his notes. Uncertain whether he should call out the tomfoolery for what it was, or accept it has his wisdom. 

Surely, the man must be joking.  

They had to have kept up with their origins, at least a bit better than this. 

Right? 

Shizuma’s eyes lingered on the page for a long moment, rereading the story time and time again, but finding no hidden depth to it. Kisame’s reminder of the shark’s long existence true…yet… 

He let a long sigh leave his gills, back thumbing against the headboard as he sat.

Perhaps it was merely the man’s way of admitting that they truly didn’t know…? But then why include it at all. Had Itachi’s clone included it, leading him to merely add it so that Shizuma didn’t come to him with demands for an answer on his side…? 

The young Hoshigaki frowned, lifting the scroll a bit and moving on to the next section. 

Supposing the other would say something if it was only a joke…and not quite eager to walk into another round of his teasing.  

Holidays.  

That should have something, at least? He’d seen many gatherings of the clan…at least from a distance. Even if they had been rather small, given that there weren’t exactly a ton of them left on shore… 

“The Hoshigaki clan is comprised of many different shark breeds…” Shizuma mumbled slightly to himself as he worked his way down the scroll, brows pressing together as he continued on from one line to another. “Each gathered into their own ‘sub-faction’ so to speak…”  

“However.” his brows reflexively pinched a bit at the word, the scroll lowering on his lap as he continued, “Our specific bloodline is what is commonly referred to as a ‘mutt’!”  

Un-fucking-believable. 

“Thus, while we are technically a part of multiple factions…we are neither expected or welcomed to join celebrations and functions save for invite-specific cases! Though we are encouraged to celebrate on our own amongst our own!” Shizuma glowered down at the paper, unsatisfied as he continued, “Attending unwelcomed is not something which was practiced in my family, but it is something I am open to should you find yourself uninterested in celebrating within our small circle! Though our reenactment may not be precise to the source!”  

Those cranky old broads, treating even Kisame like this! Discouraging him from joining them even with all the renown he brought their clan! All the glory they so eagerly sucked up when faced with it from outsiders who don’t know the difference!  

Who did they think they were, treating the Monster of the Mist like some sort of outsider rather than someone to be welcomed and respected? Someone to be given the dues he had so earned? 

Shizuma sat the scroll on his lap, scowling at the ink as though it had personally attacked him.  

They should attend uninvited, alright. 

And go home with a nice little goody-bag of severed fingers, to boot.  

That should set their foul attitudes straight. 

…His eyes lingered down at the paper, eyes shifting between the list of factional celebrations and the single large one in which they all would unite, pedigree aside.  

What a load of horseshit.  

As if it’d be worth seeing their sorry arses.  

No, at least if they celebrated at home they wouldn’t have to deal with such unpleasant sights.  

Hmph. 

Fine. What was next, then? 

“Clan principals…respect nature or you won’t live to regret it…it’s existed a lot longer than you, and you’d do well to remember that…yes, yes, of course…” Shizuma continued on down the scroll, eyes flittering past mildly familiar warnings, ones which he could only vaguely recall being delivered in hushed and patient lulls from one he couldn’t quite remember the face of now… 

Ah. Here was something with a bit more substance.  

Things to keep in mind as one of the Hoshigaki bloodline. Surely this would deliver him some answers, or at the very least, some useful information.  

Shizuma read over the small paragraph once, before doing the same a bit slower. 

“Do not be alarmed if you seem to lose teeth every few years without rhyme or reason…nature is merely working itself out…keeping you prepared for the enemies you will face.” Shizuma read, reflexively pressing his tongue up against the back portion of his mouth. The slightly achy few which he usually elected not to bother resting there, remaining despite Kisame’s claims and Itachi’s efforts during their fight out on the docks.  

If we were going to loose any…it would hopefully be those few. Perhaps it was why they ached.

Yes. Perhaps they were preparing to disperse and make room for newer, more efficient replacements?  

Shizuma could only hope. 

“Keep gills clean…you do not want a gill infection…yeah, no shit, thanks for the underlines and exclamation marks…those would have been useful a few years back.” he tittered, rolling his eyes as his gills let out long sighs of annoyance.

Just thinking about it made him want to press them shut permanently.  

He tilted his head back a bit as he read the last few lines, his eyes narrowing.  

“When at all possible, it is best to steer clear of vibrant lights, high-voltage areas, and excessively loud racket. For with our great senses…comes great sensitivity…until proper training and resilience has been built up…” Shizuma mumbled, eyes lingering on the paper for a long few moments as a number of thoughts washed over him. 

The first being absolute ire at the idea that he would be incapable of controlling himself over such small matters… 

The second being a brief consideration of his suspiciously strong patience over the last few days… 

The third being a slight revelation over how, precisely, Buntan managed to get on his nerves so much easier than Ichirota while they were out on missions together...

...

...

...

He supposed he should simply add it as yet another reason the new-age mist was inferior to the old.  

Though surely there must be ways around it beyond mere resilience training. Surely there was some secret to be found. Some hint to lessen their surrounding’s power over them.  

He would have to ask Kisame, no matter how embarrassing the endeavor may be. 

Setting the scroll down momentarily, Shizuma crawled forward, reaching over towards his dresser from the edge of the bed. 

He pulled the drawer open, taking one look at the scrolls they had bought him before shaking his head and shifting to the other drawer. Despite their prior words, it made a bit more sense to use the notebook and pen they had bought him instead. It was far less wasteful, and besides, he highly doubted he would have that many questions to keep track of.  

So it was that he collected the supplies, slipping the drawer shut and slowly maneuvering himself back to his prior spot on the bed. His back leaning easily against the headboard as he began to write two bullet points rather than the initially planned one. After all, he supposed he should get it out of the way while he was already making a fool of himself… 

- How to tell which teeth will fall out next 

- How to lessen the power of our surroundings

...Shizuma looked over the list briefly before nodding lightly, setting it to the side as he returned to his prior work. 

Next up was… 

The Hoshigaki clan coming of age requirements.  

Something Itachi had previously claimed he knew little about…yet had been so sure he would face trouble with even so. His quirked lips still heavy in Shizuma’s mind as the younger shinobi began to quickly move through the section, his eyes scanning carefully for whatever it was that could cause him such trouble. 

“To enter into adulthood within the clan…I must either see the passing of both my parents-” check, Shizuma couldn’t help but snark internally, “Or find my mate?” he scoffed, looking down at the scroll with mild scrutiny as he read over the fine details. Finding such a requirement to be a bit ridiculous, though not near as much as the ones listed in tiny print beside an asterisk . 

Shizuma’s eyes lingered on the detail as he reached it, lips pulling back and into a heavy frown.  

“Adulthood within the clan may not be reached before age twenty? I don’t recall any such coddling ever being directed my way!” he narrowed his eyes in objection, half wondering if it was another poor attempt at a joke. Surely, it must be.  

After all, it seemed far too high for a clan as strong as their own. Hell, civilians could claim adulthood before that! Ichirota’s clan had held his coming of age ceremony mere months ago, and he was only a year older than Shizuma!  Shizuma himself was already one by the village's standards, so why not by his!

Shizuma snatched his notebook from the side, adding a bullet point. 

- 20??? With a shinobi’s life expectancy??? 

There was simply no way. 

Shizuma let a lot huff escape his lips as he tossed it to the side, Itachi’s prior amusement ringing in his ears. He couldn’t say for the Hoshigaki clan, hm? Why did he have a feeling the man had lied to him.

Picking the scroll back up and returning to the same section, Shizuma frowned. Yes. Surely it was only a joke, meant to ruffle his feathers. A mere tease to get on his nerves.

...Even if he had thought the man above adding trickery to matters as important as this...

“How obnoxious…does he not have better things to do in his free time…” Shizuma flopped down and onto his back, holding the scroll over his head as he looked to the next section. His legs stretching outwards as he rolled his ankles, murmuring, “Now. For the clan’s right of passage…a separate matter from adulthood…mhm…ah. That will be quite challenging.”  

Shizuma watched the paper steadily, his head crooking to the side as if it would help his understanding in the least. 

To become an official shinobi of the clan, and thus be given the right to a voice clan matters, he must defeat either one of his parents or an elder-approved shinobi master. Which in his case he supposed would be one in the same. Either one Itachi Uchiha or Kisame Hoshigaki. 

Shizuma tossed the idea over in his mind, rolling onto his stomach with the scroll as he tried not to dwell too heavily the implications this left for his own time… 

So it seemed the old broads had never intended to let him have a hand in clan matters anyway, was that it? He supposed it wasn’t terribly surprising…yet still.  

Shizuma supposed it wouldn’t matter, soon. Not if his plans were even half-successful. 

He’d just have to work hard. With any luck, between the two elder shinobi, he should be able to manage in no time so long as he focused and kept strong in his efforts.

At least here, someone would appreciate it. 

“Ah...at last I’ve reached the half-way point...which is-” Shizuma glanced at the next section, running his fingers over the print as a brief fluster fell over his face. “...Break time. I should take a break, considering the fair pace I’ve kept...” 

Shizuma nodded to himself as he sat the scroll to the side, staring at the ceiling only momentarily before sitting up.  

Yes. Break time. He deserved a break. 

Shizuma made his way out of bed, rolling up the scrolls and setting them neatly on his dresser alongside his notebook.  

He glanced the room over only briefly before leaving, making his way down the halls with his hands held idly behind his back. His eyes tracing over the small hint of light leaking out from Sasori’s rooms…his pace quickening a bit as he headed towards the kitchen once more. 

He was disappointed to see it was now empty, his intentions of running into the remaining members once more sliced down in an instant. Really, with how loud Deidara and ‘Tobi’ had been that first day awake, one would think he’d have managed to run into at least one of them by now…and wasn’t Hidan Kakuzu’s partner? If the elder was here, surely he should be as well.

Shizuma huffed slightly, half heartedly pouring himself a glass of water and leaning on the counter. His eyes tracing over the vast empty room before him, searching for any sign of life.  

He half had to wonder if Itachi or Kisame had something to do with it…or perhaps even Konan.

He would be unsurprised, unforunately. 

Chapter Text

Eventually, Shizuma threw in the towel, unwilling to waste his morning away with the vein hope that someone new would arrive.

If anything...considering his track record...it would wind up being Kakuzu or Sasori taking a break from their own work that he'd meet. Or Itachi and Kisame, exitting just in time to see him slacking off...

Shizuma let out a low huff at the thought, rinsing his cup clean and setting it back in its rightful spot before he began making his way back towards the hallway. Kisame’s familiar handwriting lingering in his mind as he slowly made his way back to the room, the page mocking him even from so far away.

Courting, huh?

It was something he was sure he would eventually need. And yet.

For who?

Shizuma couldn’t imagine the sort of person who would so willingly place themselves by his side for all eternity. Let alone the sort he himself would allow to remain.

Someone strong, no doubt. Someone persistent. Someone loyal, who wouldn’t let themselves stray from his side no matter the hardships they faced.

He scoffed briefly as he made it to his bedroom door, feeling a faint warmth spread over his face. What sappy, idealistic thoughts.

As if such a perfect person was waiting out there for him.

“Still, I suppose it’s good information to know. If nothing else, it might prove useful at one point or another...” Shizuma tittered to himself, shutting the door behind him and sitting heavily on the bed - scroll tight in hand.

He allowed it to unroll once more, the paper tumbling down towards the floor even as he shifted it upwards to re-find the spot he had been at before. His eyes tracing over familiar letters until finally he found the heading, his feet pressing idly against the bed as he let out a brief breath.

“Hoshigaki clan courting rituals and expectations…should the day ever come where you need to make a catch of your own…mostly tried and proven.”

Ew.

Shizuma pointed did not linger too long on the last sentence, focusing instead on the advice at hand. The sections growing longer now, though they at least seemed to have a bit more relevant substance to them.

“To begin ones courting officially, both lovers must seek out the parents of the other to receive their blessing. If there are no parents to seek out, it is acceptable to ask loved ones which are of similar significance to your lover. This step is extremely important in establishing your wish to combine, join, or leave your family lines - depending upon the specific circumstances…”

That was quite a mouthful, wasn’t it?

Shizuma scooted back a bit, crossing his legs and setting his notebook and pen on his knee as he adjusted himself.

“Should any of the parents refuse to give their blessing, the courting is expected to end there.” Shizuma’s brows rose, “With an apology given to all for the wasted time, just as a thanks would be had all agreed.”

Shizuma lowered the paper, his lips turning downwards as he read the words over twice more.

That was it? The couple was expected to merely give up if their parents refused to approve of their relationship? With a love so shallow…Shizuma wouldn’t imagine there would be much lost in such a case.

Besides. How did that work if the couple’s parents were alive and well yet held no love in their hearts for their children? What then? Should their ill will outweigh the genuine happiness of the couple? Or did that sort of situation fall in line with the aforementioned possibility that there were no parents to seek out?

Shizuma lifted his pen, making a quick note.

-In cases of disownment or ill will?

His eyes drifted between his notepad and the scroll momentarily before he sat the pen back down, returning to his work. There was still quite a bit left in that section, after all.

“It is ill advised to join or be joined by your partner during these requests as it shows a distinct lack of backbone…thus lowering your chances of acceptance…though this may vary should you choose to marry outside the clan - a prime and reoccuring example being the Hōzuki clan, who tend to see this as more of a callous move than one of strength.” Shizuma read off, making a mental note to himself of the latter half in particular.

The Hōzuki clan; they were close kin to the Oniyuzu, were they not? It was good information to have, if so.

“It is common for the parents to take a few weeks to decide upon their answers - leaving the couple a golden opportunity to sway their choices. Should you marry within the clan, this should be rather straightforward.” he continued, “Male lovers are expected to offer their services to the woman’s family to prove himself worthy of the woman’s time and affection…while female lovers are expected to prove their strength and capabilities as the head of the house to the women of the man's family; to assure them he will be taken care of…”

Shizuma flustered a bit further at his, a low huff escaping either of his gills. He supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised to find such old-fashioned thoughts in a script such as this…yet…the thought of his future partner having to prove that they could take care of him. The thought of he himself having to seek out his partner’s parents to prove himself worthy of their love…it was all a bit embarrassing to consider, even he had to admit.

Also. How exactly did such things work for those who wished to marry the same sex? If he wound up with another man, would they both need to prove themselves worthy of the other’s love? Of being able to take care of one another? Or was there another expectation.

…Were such things even considered as a possibility, in a time like this? Kisame had done it, so to some degree it must be possible. Yet. The man was a missing-nin, so Shizuma doubted he and Itachi had been forced through so many hoops…

Shizuma lifted the pen up once more, scribbling his second note for the section.

-Any notable oddities for same-sex couples?

Shizuma shook his head briefly, running a hand over his face as he leaned back a bit. Lifting the scroll up once more to continue in his reading, he allowed the thought to roll off him and into the distance.

“Lastly, a slightly outdated practice-” Shizuma began, brow quirking upwards slightly as he considered just what sort of practice would require such a warning. Particularly after the last few. “But one which holds significant sway even so, partiularly with elder members of the clan.”

He considered briefly the old broads of his time, and grimaced. Ah. The sort of practice they would approve of.

“The couple are expected to exchange a tooth each, whether both are of the Hoshigaki bloodline or not, as a show of trust and devotion to their partners.” Shizuma read, “For women, it is an oath of protection, for men, a show of faith. Though it is not uncommon these days for such promises to be interchangeable, so long as the words remain between the couple at hand.”

A bloody blessing, Shizuma acknowledged, reaching up to idly touch the side of his mouth. He wasn’t certain he could ever force himself to say such embarrassing words had it not been the case.

“Along with this, it is becoming increasingly popular for only the Hoshigaki to give their teeth away as can be grown back rather quickly. Though, as priorly mentioned, this may lead to disapproval from some of your elder clansmen. The lack of reciprocation a telling sign for many that the relationship is void of devotion.”

Hm. Shizuma considered the thought briefly before rolling his eyes.

On one hand, he certainly understood the sentiment…on the other, his utter lack of respect for the majority of their rotten clansmen made it difficult for him to care what their stance on the issue was. Perhaps if any of them had any real backbone he would mind a bit more…but alas.

If nothing else, he supposed he should make a note even so. After all, it was possible that by the time he made it back to his own time his clan would be a bit better than it was as he left it. Perhaps it would be more worth respecting, by that time.

“Next up we have…marriage. How splendid.” Shizuma huffed slightly in amusement, skimming through the section. “A blessing must be received from both the parents and elders of the clan…thanks and apologies should they approve or deny…yes, yes. Ah. Here’s something new.”

He drummed his fingers idly against his notebook as he read, “Wedding decor and dress is traditionally black to symbolize that the couple’s love is as deep as the sea…as well as being a declaration that they will be together until death dares to part them…ah. How sweet.”

It would certainly be a nice bonus for himself specifically. He was sure he’d look quite good in a dark kimono, if we was just able to make sure his hair would cooperate. Perhaps with a few paler details thrown into the decor so they didn’t clash…

“Should you find yourself invited to a wedding…be prepared for quite the event…” Shizuma continued to skim, “And for your wallet to suffer an equally large blow. Regardless of your attendance.”

Hey now.

Shizuma frowned down at the vague guidelines the man had given him, his recent attempts to lean into politeness and cooperation to meet his goals seeming less and less appealing the longer he read. “A wedding gift is expected to be delivered to the couple - at the latest - two months prior to the wedding. The expected range being ¥25,000, ¥50,000, and ¥100,000 respectively for friends, superiors, and relatives.”

He wasn’t certain whether he should be outraged at the thought or begin making arrangements with his team…

Buntan would more likely than not be willing to join the ruse so long as she got her fair share…but then. Ichirōta did have a far wider network to work with…

Shizuma lifted his hand, flustering heavily at the thought. It wasn’t a bad idea, by any means…yet. He did have to wonder whether it would even be worth the embarrassment. Let alone whether his clan would actually play along.

A matter to consider. Later.

“It is expected that this money will be used on the wedding…mhm, of course…while the gift from the respective parents - typically ¥2000,000 to ¥5000,000 - should be put towards the couples new home…” Shizuma’s brows rose, “Should you intend to sire any children of your own…it is recommended you begin your saving as soon as possible…with the fact that multibirths are not uncommon in our clan in mind, should you marry within…”

Ouch.

That would be quite troublesome to plan for, wouldn’t it? To have so many children…

He could hardly manage his class as it was. He didn’t imagine having some of his own to cling to his legs would be much of an improvement. Though he supposed there was still time for that to change, once he was a bit older perhaps and had managed to plant his feet firmly enough into the ground.

Shizuma tittered over the thought, shifting the paper upwards as he discarded the idea for now.

A short lived attempt.

“…Paternity and Maternity in the Hoshigaki clan.” Shizuma sighed a bit to himself, stretching his back out and rolling his shoulders as he resisted the urge to get up for another break. It was almost lunchtime anyway, so really, it would be a waste at this point. “Once again I will remind you of our varied background…which is majorly comprised of the great white, tiger, and blue shark characteristics…”

Shizuma skimmed on further, acknowledging the information only mildly before he was forced to engage further with what the print truly meant.

He paused about half-way through the section, his brows pinching together in mild disbelieve and borderline distress.

“Though it may not be very pertinent to you now, it should be noted in case you find yourself either mating with a partner of similar background or siring a daughter in the future: Pregnancy within the clan can be quite odd due to the vastly varying traits found in our bloodline.” Shizuma mumbled along, grimacing, “For instance, those who have strong ties to the tiger shark should be weary of their multiple wombs…while those of the blue shark bloodline should be aware that quadruplets or sextuplets are the norm…”

Oh hell no.

Imagining twins or triplets was enough of a terror. Beyond the responsibility, beyond the expenses, beyond the fright which would come with possibly losing someone he was interested in enough to want to sire little minis of them…

At this rate, he was certain he would rather adopt his future heirs. Surely it was far safer a bet to place.

Yes, perhaps a young Hoshigaki not unlike himself would rear his head and he’d be able to pass on his legacy that way...

“Do not grow overly attached if you hear their little heartbeats as there is a low probability all of the pups will make it… pups need to be separated for the first few months - at least until they’re old enough to understand that resource guarding is not necessary… they will also need watched closely if you wish for them to all survive childhood as children are temperamental and Hoshigaki are walking weapons and vulnerabilities…ah. Why does anyone in this clan dare to traverse waters such as these…” Shizuma scowled down at the mile long list of warnings.

Kisame had better consider himself lucky, to have been able to skip over such horrors. To have one successor plopped so easily in his lap without trial nor error.

“I had better be just as lucky.” Shizuma huffed, allowing a brief childishness to fall over him as he lifted his head, “I’ve been a fairly cooperative son thus far…so reward me for it someday, fates. It’s the least I deserve.”

His idle plea sent out and into the empty room, head bouncing back down a mere moment later.

There were only three more sections left, at least.

“Line of succession…” something which Shizuma doubted was all that relevant to him, the further he read. “As I’ve said, there are many branches of the clan; some more closely tied to specific shark breeds than others…the closer one is tied to a specific breed the higher their family line as a whole is regarded…quite similarly to Kirigakure's founding system…”

The founding system which has since been turned on it’s head, Shizuma noted with a low huff to himself. The respect on their clan’s name ever-fading as the great war so shamelessly rearranged and altered their hundreds of years of history. All to fit their silly little agenda of ‘peace’ and ‘friendship’; unacknowledging of all the forgotten clans had done to get them so far…

“Each line is passed down from mother to daughter; or aunt to niece. It may occasionally be passed from mother to son in rare cases, though it is an extremely uncommon occasion…” Shizuma flopped down and onto his back, once more holding the scroll over him his legs propped up. He drummed his feet idly against the foot of the bed as his eyes narrowed at the information he knew, in some compacity, yet…

“Mm, I suppose not being of one of the main bloodlines has it’s perks after all.” Shizuma hummed idly, watching the scroll carefully as he considered it. What a rare show of simultaneous mercy and ruthlessness from the world, for him to have come from Kisame’s bloodline in such an odd and roundabout way.

At the very least, with them not belonging to any specific sub-faction…and Kisame no longer belonging to the Kiri…Shizuma doubted the clan nor elders would have much say in who Kisame opted to pass his knowledge onto. Not that there was much competition, regardless…yet another added bonus to him having been sired by two males…

So long as Orochimaru kept his slimy hands to himself, all should be well, Shizuma nodded firmly. After all, frail as he may be compared to most of the women in his clan, he was still more than strong enough to be worth teaching. It wasn’t as though he had been spat out of just anyone. He had come from Kisame Hoshigaki and Itachi Uchiha…two with more than enough power to make up for superficial strength in arms.

Besides. Kisame was borderline a bolder compared to most of the men in their clan anyway - and there was still time for Shizuma to inherit it…he just had to stay focused and work hard.

He’d hit his growth spurt any day now. He could feel it.

“Second to last…here we go…oh. Death is quite short.” Shizuma noted, his feet stilling in their idle drumming as he sat back up - the notebook which had at some point slid off his lap lifted from it’s fallen spot and sat off to the side.

He sat his head idly atop his knees as he pulled them to his chest, crystal blue eyes drifting across the paper as he read the only half-familiar words. “The dead are returned to the ocean in a traditional water burial…their names etched eternally into the memorial stones of both Kirigakure and the Hoshigaki head grounds…”

“Unless of course no body is recovered…or it is claimed by the intelligence department…in which case no physical send-off takes place.” Shizuma read the words even as a distinct lump in his throat seemed to try its best to slow him, his lips pressed together firmly as he paused for only a moment before continuing, “In which case, the names are merely recorded upon the memorial stones…with family and clan members coming to the ocean to speak their goodbyes privately.”

Something which was now near impossible, between Kiri’s memorial stone ‘corrections’ and their over-populated beaches…

The Hoshigaki head grounds locked far out of his grasp, the stone which could very well be just as lacking as the village’s out of his reach…

Both so ashamed by their past that they would go so far as to destroy it. To hide it behind a dozen layers of protections, untouchable to any who they deemed unworthy of keeping their dirty secrets.

Past heroes strung up like banners, vivid warnings of all that would come to those who fell out of favor; their past admiration gone, turned to hatred in a matter of years. Destined to fade to nothing, forgotten despite all their efforts.

It was disgusting.

It was something Shizuma would not allow.

Reaching up to rub some of the tenderness from his increasingly tiring eyes, Shizuma let out a low huff. He supposed he could take another break…though it would be quite pointless now. He only had a section left to read, after all, and he’d be done with all Kisame had given him.

It would be the perfect half-way point for when they came to get him for lunch. One before, one after, if he kept on track.

Surely it would be a good show of his dedication to the two if he could at least do that much.

A promise of his sincerity to encourage them to let him help, if just a bit.

He only had to finish this last section.

Taboos.

Hm.

He wasn’t certain such things warrented an entire section…but then again. If the man wished to give him a list of ways to get on he and his fellow clansmen’s good side. Shizuma had no intentions of ignoring him.

“Keeping on-theme with the prior section…it is common to take shells from the waterside of a loved ones departure. They say you can hear the lost loved one’s soul speaking to you through its echo…and thus it is both incredibly bad luck and heavily frowned upon for one to go around breaking sea shells…” Shizuma continued, letting out a low huff of amusement at the very idea. How childish…

“Naming your son the heir is considered bad taste…naming your daughter the heir too early is considered bad taste…commenting on a full-male or full-female litter either positively or negatively is considered rude…” Shizuma tittered, letting his legs fall forward a bit as he skimmed the last remaining section. “…Announcing the number of pups during pregnancy temps lady fate to take them all away…”

Really, what was it with this clan and it’s focus on such things? Were they truely so important…?

“Favoring female pups is heavily frowned upon in most sub-factions despite the lack of probability males have to bring glory or fame to the clan…it shows a lack of respect for nature and the mother who nurtured them both…Oh, well, there go my future plans.” Shizuma drawled sarcasically, eyes rolling at the very thought. So much attention given to just a trival thing.

“That leaves only…ah.” Shizuma crooked his head a bit as he looked over the final note, one which he supposed was good to know. Yet left the same awkward pit in his stomach even so.

“Though I don’t imagine this is something which needs said…I will remind you still of the foul impression it would leave for both a future partner and their parents to have a Hoshigaki approach with a half-empty mouth, claiming affection. So should you decide to share the news of your love with your true mate…perhaps make sure your teeth have had ample time to regrow from past relations and friendships alike.”

His words twisting and avoiding, Shizuma mused with a faint scowl, as the man tried to convey the awkward reminder that for all their clan loved to hang off one another…their true affections were reserved. Certainly, not something to be given loosely, if they wished to remain a figure to be at least somewhat respected by their clan…

Shizuma rolled his eyes as he began to revert the scroll back to it’s original state, a low snicker leaving his lips as he considered the effort the man must have gone through to properly word his heeding in a way he considered ‘age appropriate’.

Really now. He wasn’t a child.

And besides.

Their clan’s respect for him was a boat which had long since sailed.

Shizuma shook his head briefly, hopping down from the bed as he once more sat the scrolls on the endtable and regathered his notebook to lay it near.

It was almost endearing to imagine – the bear of the man finally on the other side of their reoccurring discomfort. It was about time it was someone else's turn.

Shizuma leaned backwards, glancing towards the sun outside momentarily with a slight hum of consideration. He probably still had a little bit before lunch. Certainly enough time to take a small break – to claim a reward for his efforts.

He could lay down for a bit...

Go visit Kisame...Itachi, perhaps...

Or. He could use this free moment to stop by the kitchen and commons once more.

As a small reward for the break-neck speed with which he had managed to get through Kisame’s half. A nice little rest for his eyes, which ached so heavily from all the early morning reading.

Chapter Text

Finally, Shizuma was free. 

He hurried out of the room while he still had a chance, slipping down the halls and towards the distant common’s area.  

The hallway remained just as still as the last time he had made his way through it, still dim as could be. Sasori’s faint lights shining out from under the door to light the area ahead of it, but little more.  

Shizuma’s attention flickered between it and the brightly lit area ahead, his hands folding idly behind his back as he walked with his head held high.  

Sasori seemed busy as ever...meaning at the very least he shouldn’t run into him for now. Kakuzu was a simple matter of making himself scarce. And their partners. Well. They would have to appear sooner or later.  

Shizuma paused just outside the exit to the hallway, closing his eyes and listening as he heard the faint sound of shuffling from within. The footsteps erratic but not heavy, the heartbeat within just abnormal enough to give away the person’s annoyance. 

He lingered outside the door for a brief moment, listening steadily for the person to speak, but never hearing so much as a low grumble.  

Mm.  

Shizuma’s eyes cracked open as he stared at the door ahead of him, taking a small step back. 

What to do, what to do? 

The person sounded far too light to be either Kakuzu or Kisame. Sasori seemed to be in his room. Itachi, for all his frustrations, so far hadn’t been the type to let his emotions overtake him with such ease. Konan. Thus far had been rather calm in her upset. 

Which meant it was more likely than not either Deidara, Hidan, or Pein. Tobi a possibility, but unlikely considering how unaligned it was with the antics Shizuma had seen thus far...not to mention his less than common appearances over the last few days.  

But regardless. 

The signs all pointed to it being someone he had been hoping to run into – and by all accounts should be taken advantage of...yet. There was the small voice in the back of his head, his common sense whispering reminders that it was better to retreat for now and return once the unknown person was in a better mood. The steadily unhappy heartbeat promising him nothing but a foul introduction despite his attempts. 

Shizuma scowled slightly at the door, his arms dropping down from behind his back to linger by his sides.  

Then again. 

If he managed to fix the person’s foul mood somehow – to flip it on its head so soon after meeting them. It would make for quite the introduction. It would be far more effective than simply waiting and playing it safe. 

One had to play big to win big, as they say. 

And besides. If worse came to worst. His wound hadn’t been bothering him much at all today. In fact, he could even feel the distant sparks of his own chakra beginning to swell within his gut. If he truly needed to, he was sure he would be able to escape away one way or another.  

He had always been the slippery type.  

Shizuma lifted his hand, setting it on the doorknob as he took a steadying breath. His reservations tucked away and replaced with an air of certainty as his back straightened, eyes firm in their determination.  

The pre-teen pressed the door open, slipping through it easily and landing on the other side without issue. He shut the wood door behind him, his pace steady and calm even as his eyes darted over to the turned back of the not-quite familiar blond.  

Shizuma approached at an easy pace, keeping a bit of distance between them as his hands refolded behind his back.  

The blond - Deidara, he acknowledged - was simultaneously so much older and younger than he had expected. The faded images he had flipped through a mere few months ago blurry and warped in Shizuma’s memory, the brief glances he’d spared the older shinobi’s file somehow having massively over and undersold his age all at once.  

Though, to be fair, Shizuma supposed he did have a bit of unfair competition when it came to such things. Kisame and Konan were rather old, not to mention Kakuzu - and Itachi, well… 

Itachi had an old soul, Shizuma supposed he should say.  

“Tch!” Deidara’s eyes snipped up from his sandwich and towards Shizuma, only to drop back down a moment later. His heartbeat increasing steadily as he worked, head turned away as if by force. His gaze so steady as he watched his lunch, as though by giving it his full attention he would be able to pack all his annoyances into it. 

Shizuma continued his slow and careful approach, head turning idly as he turned the corner of the counter. Approaching just quietly enough to not be obnoxious, while remaining loud enough that he wouldn’t startle the elder shinobi with his appearance.  

He watched from across the kitchen as the other continued packing up his lunch, head held high even as he refused to so much as turn towards Shizuma - let alone acknowledge his entrance into the kitchen.  

The younger allowed a long moment to pass before he took another step forward, slowly circling the blond as he moved from one side to the other. Taking in his messily made multi-layer sandwich, as well as the way he seemed to turn his back to whichever angle Shizuma tried to approach from. Quite the rude and bold move, all at once, he silently tittered as he opened his mouth to introduce himself.  

“If you want a sandwich, go ask your freakin’ dad. I don’t have time to play caterer too.” Deidara shooed him, still not so much as looking up as he finally seemed to finish stacking his meal for the day. The hand which was waved loosely in his face leaving Shizuma agitated despite his best efforts.  

He had known the elder shinobi was annoyed when he approached him. So there was really no use in taking offense. Yet still. He narrowed his eyes at the offending motion, lifting his own to wave it off easily.  

“If I wish for a sandwich, I am more than capable of getting one on my own.” Shizuma noted dryly, nose crinkling a bit at the suggestion. His light scowl morphing into something more pleasant as the other finally turned his attention towards him, his sharp round eyes lingering on the younger as he held his plate in hand.  

Deidara watched him for a long few seconds, his eyes shifting between Shizuma and the empty walkway beside him. His heartbeat uneasy as Shizuma remained parked in place, the younger's hands back to gripping one another idly behind his back as he stared up at the elder shinobi. “What is it you’re busy with? Perhaps I can help?” he offered, unwavering despite the older boy’s unimpressed glance. 

He could feel it as the other scanned him up and down, taking in every piece of his appearance - his face unmoving from that same mildly annoyed glance no matter how his heartbeat seemed to rise and fall throughout his search. Utterly conflicted even as Shizuma remained standing before him, his patience wrangled enough to continue watching the other despite his eternal internal debate. 

“Thanks, but I don’t need some kid messing up my work…or lecturing me about how it could be done more efficiently…or whatever.” Deidara refused after a long moment, turning his head sharply to the side. “Besides, don’t you have work to be doing?” 

Shizuma frowned, just a bit of his gusto taken as he listened to the older boy. His brows furrowed as his smile dropped a bit, one of his hands drifting to his side while the other rose to itch idly at his cheek. Did he seem so incompetent? Had the other heard about his less than glorious fight out on the docks? But then what was with the conceeded image he seemed so quick to project onto him… 

Also. How did he know about his studies? 

“Since I’ve finished half of my work for the day, I’m taking a break.” Shizuma allowed, head tilting up just a bit to keep steady eye contact with the other; or at least as much as he could with his head turned away in dismissal. “And as for my ability to help…” 

Shizuma swallowed down a bit of his pride, his toes curling slightly even as he remained calm and easygoing with his words. Deidara’s words tossed around rapidly in his head as he tried to find the best angle to work from. The best way to convince the other to allow him to help, to let him ease the frusterations in his heart and thus allow Shizuma himself to claim at least a bit of leeway there.  

His reluctance shoved down and into his stomach as he assured the other apeasingly, “I can follow instructions just fine, if you’re willing to show me how to do whatever it is that needs done…” he suggested, clipping his mouth shut afterwards and pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Steadying himself as best he could as he tried with all his might to force his gills to remain stoic - to not give away any of his agitation at having to follow the blond’s lead. 

He kept his back straight as the taller boy finally turned his gaze downwards once more, the plate still held in his hand as he seemed to mull it over. The corner of Deidara’s lip twitching slightly in confliction.  

“If you’re taking a break, shouldn’t you be laying down? Or eating, or something?” Deidara challenged, free hand pointing to him as thought it would help him find his deceet. “I have no interest in waking up tomorrow to Itachi roasting me over a fire for wearing you out. Or having to deal with Kisame’s weird-sad-threatening-puppy-dog eyes for the next two weeks.” 

His finger wagging up and down as he spoke, as though he were speaking down at a dog rather than someone offering him help.  

Shizuma let his hands fall to either of his sides as he listened to the other, steadying his own annoyance at the other’s words and focusing instead on the slowly relaxing pulse of the other’s heartbeat. He could hear the underlying admission, the weariness that Itachi and Kisame had likely directed his way as well. The unspoken order or favor to not bother him in his hour of resting. 

It was really making this so much harder than it had to be, good intentions aside. 

“They’ve had me rest plenty.” Shizuma waved his hand in front of his face idly, “Besides, Itachi is the one who instructed me to take breaks as needed, so he really can’t be upset with me for taking them as I see fit; and as for Kisame, he made mention of me being helpful this morning when I aided Konan in her patrol. So he should have no issue with-” 

“Alright, alright. You can tag along and help if you want it that badly.” Deidara shook his head, moving past him in one easy movement. “But if anyone’s ass- shit, wait- or. Ack. If anyone is taking the heat for this, it’s gonna be you. Got it? I don’t want to hear anyone whining about me tiring you out.”  

Deidara’s head was held high even as he tripped and scrambled over his wording, seeming to get tongue tied as he sent the decidedly unintimidating warning Shizuma’s way. Giving up rather quickly in his decidedly pointless attempts to lessen his cursing. His pace never so much as halting as he walked towards the hallway once more, the younger shinobi quick on his heels as they walked.  

“Of course, of course.” Shizuma agreed, his prior pointed smile returning ten-fold as he walked just a bit beside the older boy. “It was I who approached you, after all. So how could it be any fault of yours.”  

He shifted from one side to another behind the boy as they walked, his eyes drifting over the man’s free hand as he finally allowed himself to focus on other matters. Now that Deidara’s ire seemed soothed, it was the perfect time to catch a peak at those odd hands of his. Just enough to see if the stories held any truth to them.  

“What is it we’ll be doing?” He asked, head crooking to the side as he finally spotted them. They did look quite odd, even from so far away. Yet at the same time, so impressive, when he considered it was an abnormality which he hadn’t been born with.  

“…Making explosive tags. A lot of them. Konan said we’re running low.” Deidara answered after a long minute, lifting his hand to press the door just beside Sasori’s open. Did it hurt the hands…? Shizuma imagined it must feel at least a bit odd… “Do you know how to do that?” 

“I do.” Shizuma nodded behind him as he followed him into the room, his eyes casting upwards from the hand to the room surrounding. It was so very different from Kisame and Itachi’s plain rooms. So much messier. “How many are needed?” 

He side-stepped a table full of clay, eyeing the bright lamp which hung over the creations as they made their way towards the back of the room. A variety of explosive tags already set out, stacks upon stacks prepared with the neatest of lines.  

“As many as we can make.” Deidara plopped down at the desk, his plate sat off to the side as Shizuma began to carefully approach via the other side. His legs crossed as he sat down, back straightened as he nodded along.  

Looking at the nearby stacks, it seemed a bit like overkill to him - but if it was all he had to do to get on the blond’s good side. Well. He wasn’t going to complain.  

“I see.” Shizuma mused, watching as the lights in the first half of the room dimmed once they made it to the back. The lighting even different in this room as the front turned pitch black save for the impossibly bright lamps hanging over the clay. 

What an odd guy.  

But still.  

Shizuma reached for one of the not yet used brushes as Deidara began to eat his sandwich with one hand, using the other to hold his brush steady. His eyes lingering between Shizuma and the paper even as the younger focused entirely on the task at hand, leaning forward as he held the paper steady. So very careful to make his work just as detailed and flawless as the ones stacked mile high beside him.  

He worked intently, keeping his eyes on the paper even as he felt Deidara’s attention linger on him. The issue not lasting near as long as it normally would had it been either Kisame or Itachi, the blond quick to break it as he seemed to relax a bit.  

"...So." Deidara had one hand propped up on his knee as he continued to multi-task, his gaze lingering on Shizuma as he asked bluntly, “You’re the organization’s new golden goose, huh?"

His head tilted just a bit to the side as he asked, "Are you always rushing to give your eggs away like this?”  

Deidara's question neither as taunting as Kisame’s had been prior to their discussion over the future nor as disappointed as Itachi’s after the fact. His eyes holding only pure and idle curiosity, as if it weren’t a question which suffered from a thousand layers. 

Shizuma held his gaze only briefly before allowing his eyes to drift back down to his work, his hands steady even as he mused idly, “Mm, more like, I know when it’s in my best interest to hand them over.” he corrected mildly, listening carefully for the other’s expressive breathing even as he kept his attention elsewhere. “Which in this case, means passing my knowledge on and aiding the organization where I can, even if only minimally.” 

If not for the praises of today, for the bonuses of tomorrow. The investment slow and steady, but certainly worth his time. As much as he would rather be a bit more involved first hand… 

“Hm, yeah, because Kisame and Itachi beat you to a pulp?” Deidara spoke easily, not so much as wavering as he switched from one tag to another. “Heard about that - and can’t say I’m all that surprised. Wouldn’t be the first time Itachi has done it, and Kisame…well. He’s Kisame.”  

The teen seemed to…complain about the former? His eyes rolling as Shizuma glanced up briefly with furrowed brows. The blond’s heartbeat speeding up just a bit as he spoke of Itachi, the ire returning to his chest despite the way he seemed to be steadily calming. His mention of Kisame lax in comparison, despite the latter having objectively done more damage. 

“…I was injured when I got here. It’s not as though they beat the information out of me.” Shizuma defended mildly before refocusing on the work at hand. “I gave it over of my own volition. This organization having it will help me, long term. If not for what I stand to gain immediately, for the way things will sway long term. It’s what will help me set the future straight easiest. That’s all there is to it.”  

Not quite caring for the hinted smudge on either their nor his name. After all, the way Deidara said it…it made him sound a bit pathetic. Not to mention the warped perception it put on their actions. 

“Mhm, so getting knocked down into a week-long coma didn’t sway your choice in the least.” Deidara drawled sarcasitically, taking a bite of his sandwich before musing, “Is that it, un?” 

“It didn’t.” Shizuma argued faintly, brows furrowing a bit as he lifted his eyes up momentarily from his work. “I’m from the blood mist, it takes more than something like that to keep us down. Besides. It’s not like I don’t get it. If a suspicious shinobi appears, of course they need apprehended and drilled for information.”  

He kept his tone steady, only wavering a bit as he saw the older shinobi’s crooked brow. Easing himself down, smoothing out the outrage in his voice as he kicked away the sprinkle of conceededness Deidara had been weary of a mere few moments ago.  

It’d be a bit of a waste to get kicked out of the room now, after all.  

“Tch.” Deidara shook his head, using a wipe from off to the side to clean his hand before continuing his work - now sandwich free. “Just as analtical as Itachi, and tough as Kisame. Really, are those two blind…what a couple of pain in the asses." 

“Hm?” Shizuma implored slowly, moving from one explosive tag to another even as he kept steady eye contact. Allowing the second slight to pass for now, if only momentarily. The elder shinobi's remarks beginning to truely get on his nerves. But not quite worth cutting off yet. Not if it continued to give him such glimpses into the organization's odd dynamics. “Not that I haven’t been getting that a lot, but...care to eleborate?” 

His request met instantly as the other continued on with his quick words, his free hand motioning around in a distinctly more aggressive manner than the other seemed to be feeling. So very quick to take the excuse to ramble on with his odd balance of respect and distain.  

“What I mean is their constant back-and-forthing. Nearly comatosing you one minute, then visiting your bedside the next. Ribbing on about how if you die you die, but then sneaking behind Hidan and I’s back to have Konan assign us a bunch of busy work- I mean, come on!” Deidara drawled, shifting from one tag to the next. “It’s not like I’m gonna plant a bomb in your jacket just for shits and giggles. I mean- yeah, Hidan might have cut you up before, but Konan has already made it clear you’re off limits, so they’ve really not got anything to worry about, un. He’s a pain, but he isn’t stupid.”  

Deidara smacked the paper down beside him in one of the lower stacks, moving onto the next one as he ranted. “Those two find out they have a son and suddenly it’s gotta be everyone’s problem. I mean, look at you, you’re fine. Not exploding into a billion little pieces.” 

Shizuma nodded along as he listened, tilting his head just a bit with each passing word. His hands busy at work as he mused, “Mm, yes, they do seem to be a bit mislead as far as my capabilities go. I’m not near as torn down from their attacks as they seem to think.”  

He held his head high, lips curving upwards a bit as he saw the other nod quickly in agreement from across the table.

The younger agreeing fully with his own words, despite his private reservations about the way the blond spoke of them. An odd mix in his gut, certainly.

"Yes, exactly! I’ll tell you what the issue is, it’s that ego of Itachi’s I’d bet. He-” Deidara began, only to be forced to a slow soon thereafter.

Shizuma watched as the teen’s short temper was cut down with a single knock at his bedroom door, the blond’s head bobbing over towards it as he called with only mild annoyance at being inturrupted, “Yeah, c’mon, come in-”  

He waved despite the person on the other side of the door being unable to see, both he and Shizuma’s eyes alike lingering on the bulky figure in the doorway as he entered. The man's lips turned up in probably sincere amusement, even as his brows pressed upwards.  

“Helping again, Shizuma?” Kisame asked, lingering in the doorway as the younger Hoshigaki blinked briefly up at him, shimmying out from under the table as he nodded quickly. His indulgence in Deidara’s ranting set to the side for now as the other seemed to have calmed…and somewhat having decided he was worth allowing around. His complains over the circumstances aside.  

“I was.” Shizuma agreed, setting his most recently finished paper aside to hurry over to the taller shinobi’s side. Careful as he moved past clay bomb after clay bomb, unwilling to ruin all his patient endurance now. “Miss Konan requested explosive tags, so I-” 

Shizuma let out a low, miserable whine as the larger shinobi used his arm to wrap tightly around Shizuma’s shoulders, borderline locking him into place under his arm no matter how the younger tugged at the offendingly strong appendage. The headlock sudden as it was firm.  

“And what, percisely, happened to keeping your nose where it belonged? Inches deep in the scrolls we gave you this morning?” Kisame implored, his hold everstrong no matter how Shizuma tried to pry himself from it.  

“I was taking a break, as instructed!” Shizuma objected, allowing himself to struggle for only a moment more before going limp. His eyes cast upwards towards the other, lips puffed outwards in objection. “I’ve already finished one of the scrolls. I made good time.” 

He held Kisame’s gaze, hands holding arbitrarily onto the man’s single arm as he did his best not to give way in front of Deidara - the blond’s low huff of amusement not lost on him as the other proved percisely his point.  

“Breaks mean laying down, eating, and otherwise resting. I belive you know that.” Kisame tittered idly, leaning down to near his face as Shizuma slunk his neck further and into the other’s arm. His puffiness evolving into a full on pout after a long moment, something which as perdicted did little good to sway the elder shinobi. 

“I tried to tell him…” Deidara shrugged easily off to the side, as though he hadn’t spent the last long while raving over their absurdity. Shizuma’s brows furrowed as he shot the blond a mild glare, unamused with the other even as his prior reminders that he wouldn’t be taking the heat played over in the younger’s head. “But he just had to come with.” 

Deidara sat his paper to the side, attention turning down from Kisame’s low hum of doubt and back down to his work. Pointedly ignoring both Shizuma’s glower and the elder Hoshigaki’s low hum of, “I see.”  

The bloody bastard.  

Chapter Text

A low, throaty noise of objection left Shizuma as Kisame led them out of the room - his head still tucked below the other’s arm with each step no matter how he twisted and turned his neck. The steady pace near-impossible to keep up with as he sped-walked alongside the taller man.  

“I was only helping.” Shizuma grumbled lowly after a long moment, sensing eventually that the man had no intentions of loosening his grip on him until he had a proper explanation. The annoying hold unrelenting despite his words. “Do you not want me to help? Would you rather I simply sit there, useless in my room?”  

He poked and prodded at the other with his words, his brows furrowing in agitation as they walked. A slight, mild concern reentering his mind as he remained unable to escape the hold - Kisame’s strong arms unpainful…yet dangerous in their placing.  

“I believe this is something we’ve already discussed, Shizuma.” the other’s words just a tad bit jaded despite the low hum he spoke with. “If you’re failing to remember, perhaps think back to the weapon’s shop?” 

Utterly unrelenting in his stubborn refusal to let him so much as glance in the Akatsuki’s direction, despite his living in the same quarters. That same paranoia from his first day awake still going strong, even now. The man far too eager to find faults which simply hadn’t been there. Or. Ones which had been buried behind a dozen others, at least.  

“I didn’t- it wasn’t like that.” Shizuma let out a long huff of protest, “I was only helping make explosive tags! How could that be of any harm! What could I stand to gain from that!”  

His hands lowered from their temporary hold on Kisame’s arm to instead motion out ahead of him, his brows furrowing further as he saw the larger shinobi shrug with his free shoulder, “That’s not relevant, nor any of your business, truth be told.”  

None of his-!

Shizuma’s teeth clenched tightly as he looked up at the elder Hoshigaki, just barely biting his tongue as the other continued, “You’re a smart kid, Shizuma. A chuunin, in fact. So one would think you’d find yourself able to follow simple instructions. If we say no helping with paperwork or weapon keeping…what does this imply you should not partake in?” 

His pause unfortunately not decorative as Shizuma admittedly sulked in his hold, his arms dropping back down to fold over his chest. The silence stretching for a long moment before finally he mumbled the truth he knew, yet didn’t much care for. “…Patrolling the village and aiding in weapon creation.”  

Shizuma lowered his head slightly, willing the room empty as they made it into the kitchen - a low breath of relief leaving his lips when it ended up being the case. The only person within Itachi, which wasn’t ideal by any means, but at the very least an improvement from say Kakuzu or Konan. 

“That’s right!” Kisame’s beaming smile did little to ease the speck of frustration in his eyes, the man’s free hand coming up to pat his head almost mockingly. The confirmation of his suspicions somehow both seeming to please and disappoint the man. “Because if you truly wish to aid Itachi and myself, you are well aware this is not the way to go about it.”  

Kisame’s arm loosened at long last as they reached the dining area’s table, his head once more ducting down to show off his teeth.

As though such a thing would scare Shizuma…plenty of people back home had teeth which were the very same…and he himself had them as well… 

“No…if you wish to help us, you should simply do as we say. Focus on the work we’ve given you, and stop wondering off like a shark trying to find blood in the water. For we both know you won’t find any…besides perhaps your own.”

Kisame’s wry grin sent a harsh shiver down Shizuma’s spine as his head snapped away from the other’s smile, his own lips twisting down further in half-annoyance half-weariness. Supposing the man somewhat had a point. Yet.

“Kisame.” Itachi’s mild voice from across the room filled his ears, the man’s idle words unconvincing in their scolding he continued putting the stack of sandwiches together. 

Shizuma’s eyes lingered on the elder Uchiha, if only to avoid looking at Kisame, as he felt the arm finally move off his shoulders. Kisame’s hands easily moving to rest on the top of his back, pushing him lightly down to the seat below.  

“I’m only saying! If he truley wishes to help you and I, it would be quite easy. The least he can do is not twist our arms so brutally.” Kisame huffed a bit, “For as practiced as we may be in the matter, I don’t imagine either of us are eager to stain our swords red with our own kind’s blood once again.” his hand coming down in perhaps the world’s most untimely of moments to pat the top of Shizuma’s head as he mused with his partner, “I, for one, would like for the boy to remain intact for as long as possible. Not that he seems to share the sentiment.”  

Shizuma scowled slightly as he listened to the man’s words, his gills puffing outwards in annoyance despite it all. Really now, he may have been wrong to ignore the man’s various warnings…but to act as though he was doing it out of malicion or stupidity wasn’t quite fair.  

He did want to help, truly. He just also wanted to do as he wished, unbound or at least unhindered by the tight leash the two so insisted on holding him back with. Was taking initiative really so wrong?  

Shizuma crossed his arms as he felt the hand remain lingering on his head, his eyes closing briefly as he let out a second huff from his gills.  

He supposed he shouldn’t be all that surprised. After all, missing-nin or not, they did still answer to a village head in at least some regard. All their work to escape their old leashes only to willingly slip back onto a new one…how annoying.  

Killing for Kiri…killing for Konoha…killing for the Akatsuki… 

It was really all the same in the end, wasn’t it? The life of a shinobi the same no matter where he might go, his loyalties held just an inch above his priorities.

Should have just stayed back where things were at least comfortable, if that were the case. At least back in Kiri it was easy to slip under the radar with one’s transgressions. 

“…Sorry.” Shizuma let out a low sigh, his head tilting back to look up at the taller man. His apology insincere, but at the very least, understanding of where the man was coming from. Which would hopefully count for enough.  

After all, it wasn’t as though he’d be willing to toss years of work out for a comrade, family or not, either. He wasn’t willing to, as a matter a fact.  

He still had every intention of continuing in his work to learn more about the other members, if not for his stay here, out of sheer curiosity now.  

But still. He could at least respect the man’s attempts to scare him away from it. Had he been a few years smaller, it might have worked. Unfortunately, though, it was as the man had said. He was a chuunin. He understood how things worked. Just as he was sure Kisame understood as a shinobi himself. 

Shizuma watched the man’s beady white eyes with crystal-blue ones of his own, their gaze matched in understanding for a long moment before the man finally lifted his hand. His fingers lifting upwards - dangerously close in angle to his sword - before they came down hard on Shizuma’s nose. 

A surge of curses left Shizuma as he snapped his head back down, his forehead thumping hard against the wooden table as his hands reaching up to guard the area of attack - the room seeming to fuzz around him as he heard Kisame’s doubtful muse from above, “No you’re not…don’t lie.”  

The elder Hoshigaki pulling out a chair beside him to flop down in, his lips turned downwards and into a firm frown as he watched. Pointedly unamused as Shizuma turned his head away once more, his glare aimed into the abyss as he tried to recover from the brute’s slight. 

So much for understanding one another as shinobi! 

“And just how do you know I’m lying, hm? It’s in poor taste to carry on with only assumptions!” Shizuma glowered, even as he finally lifted his head to lean back a bit - Itachi thumping a pair of plates before both he and Kisame as they sat. The man’s heavy sigh ringing through the room as the elder shinobi sat to his opposite side, dark eyes casting over the two in a silent warning to rid themselves of the conversation.

Utterly unhelpful as ever.

Shizuma’s lips fell into a frown as he let another moment pass, his hands slowly lowering from his face and falling down to his lap. His nose still twitching no matter how he tried to focus.

His eyes shifted from Itachi to Kisame, brows furrowed as he watched both of them turn down towards their sandwiches. Unblinking no matter how he continued his gaze.

Eventually, Shizuma's attention dipped back down, his hand reaching up to rub idly at the fuzzy feeling center of his face as he eyed his meal. His brows still furrowed in mild agitation as he finally lifted a sandwich from his plate to eat, his own eyes still switching quickly between the two once he was settled.

Not in the least caring for the injustice he had been served…but supposing he had little choice but to let it drop for now. It didn’t seem as though either were going to become any more reasonable with it at the moment regardless... 

Shizuma took a bite of his food, keeping his eyes on the two in idle rotations. The heartbeat ringing steadily in Kisame’s chest conflicting with the rigid one in Itachi’s…the latter seeming for some reason more unrested by the conversation that the prior. 

Urg.

Shizuma shifted his hand as he reached up to rub at one of his ears instead. That stupid dream of his had him sensitive again. Why did it always insist on reappearing just as soon as he managed to steady himself and block out the incessant thumping?  

“Did you at the very least manage to get through some of your work before wandering off?” Itachi asked after a long moment, his eyes lifting from his sandwich to meet Shizuma’s shifting ones. 

…Shizuma frowned thinly at the man’s tone, but nodded even so. “I did. I got through the Hoshigaki scroll, and intend to do the Uchiha scroll after lunch.” he explained, hardly resisting the urge to elaborate on his reasoning for wandering off for a break.  

A part of him wishing to try to appease the situation by getting Itachi on his side, then by sheer proxy, Kisame. The swordsman always seeming eager to jump to whichever side Itachi was on. The only thing stopping him was Itachi’s unknown status. Would he be just as eager to jump when Kisame demanded as the other was…? 

It was probably for the best that he not test it out now.  

“You finished the Hoshigaki scroll? All of it, in it’s entirety?” Itachi’s brow quirked upwards, sounding just a bit doubtful. As though his claim were but another lie! Shizuma glanced over to Kisame, his frown deepening as he saw an equally skeptical glance.  

Well, that was just plain rude.  

“I did.” Shizuma lifted his chin, taking another bite from his plate and chewing before answering, “An hour or so ago, I’ll have you know.”  

His time borderline breakneck in it’s impressiveness, he knew, but hardly something that deserved such doubt even so. After all, hadn’t they both had similar reputations for such feats even before they reached his age? If Itachi could become a missing-nin by thirteen and Kisame could stand at the top of his graduating class right alongside the other noble clans, it was only expected that he should be able to handle something so mundane.  

“And you retained all this information?” Kisame unhelpfully reached over to knock his knuckles against Shizuma’s skull, the younger shinobi sending him a brief glare out of the corner of his eyes for the slight. So this was how his efforts were rewarded… 

“Of course I did.” Shizuma pointedly did not acknowledge the faint twist in his stomach, his eyes stuck on the other as he spoke. Really, he knew he could be a bit much at times, but he wasn’t so stupid or uncaring as to disregard something of that sort. Even his teachers back at the academy had been able to vouch for that much, after a time… 

Shizuma watched the man with furrowed brows, annoyance slowly seeping into him just as it seemed to slip out of the other. The hand on his head shifting from knocking to patting once more as the other so carelessly pulled Shizuma forward - the preteen nearly dropping his sandwich as his head was once more held under the other’s shoulder.  

Shizuma could practically feel the blue blush shooting up his face as he was pulled into the side-hug, his annoyance slipping out of his grasp as it was replaced with embarrassment instead. His usual quick reflexes failing him as he heard Kisame titter from above, “Ah, no pouting, I was only asking.” the man unserious with his words as his hand thumped steadily against Shizuma’s skull. 

“...I wasn’t.” Shizuma finally bit out after a moment, his arms crossing over his chest as he glanced downwards.

What was it with he and Itachi when it came to thinking he was sulking? 

“Mhm.” Kisame spoke in acknowledgement even as he carried on, poking and prodding at his annoyance in a weak attempt to undo it. Shameless as he fluffed Shizuma's ego in what seemed to be a mild attempt at an indirect apology, “You made quick work of it. Quite impressive.” 

"..." Shizuma’s feet pressed idly to the chair he sat on, stubbornly muttering, “I am aware.” unwilling to allow the slight to escape him so easily.  

It was one thing to lord over him with their superior skill, after all. They were the picture of perfection in both combat and strategy, so of course they would see his efforts as inferior. It was another matter all together though to claim he had no skill at all. 

Shizuma remained, unbudging, as the other merely lowered his hand, allowing it to dangle off the side of Shizuma’s shoulder. Kisame’s gaze still weighing heavily on him for a brief few minutes before finally the man let out a low sigh of his own. 

“…You certainly are Itachi’s son.” Kisame huffed lightly, his head shaking back and forth as Shizuma finally allowed his eyes to drag up towards the man out of the corner of his vision. The words not quite relevant to the topic at hand so far as Shizuma could see…yet still unwinding the twist just a bit. Was it the man’s poor attempt to say he had gotten his intelligence from Itachi…? Or something less flattering...Was it simply a cheap and easy way he'd determined to unwind his ire...?

Shizuma wasn’t quite sure.  

Chapter Text

Shizuma sent Kisame precisely one last glower before he was finally let go, the younger Hoshigaki’s chair falling back into place after a brief moment of teetering back and forth. His balance kept only by his own hands, which held tightly onto either side of his seat until finally it came to a still. 

He waited until it was fully returned to it’s proper place before letting go, his hands lifting up from his sides to return to the plate before him. The sandwiches smelling particularly good after a long day of studying. At least until Kisame opted to sour them with his words. 

“Tell me then, did you have any questions?” he asked so easily, hardly seeming to think twice as he bit into his own lunch. Staring down at Shizuma with those small, beady eyes of his, the previous unjust scolding finally seeming to leave his voice. Only to be replaced with the far too-blunt question. 

Lightly, Shizuma thought back to his small list of questions, his gills pressing down hard against his face as he frowned deeply at the elder shinobi. His hands a bit sweaty as he tried to stomp the foolishly childish response down, his eyes sharp as they looked up towards his elder clansmen. 

He supposed it was now or never.

After all, if he dodged the opportunity only to bring it up again later, he doubted the man would be kind in his mockery. 

“…You mentioned it wasn’t abnormal for teeth to fall out periodically.” Shizuma forced himself to sit up straight, his head tilting a bit in mock-boredom as his eyes looked half-liddedly at the other. Shifting into place as he sat. “Is there a way to tell which ones will next fall out?” 

He took a bite of his sandwich as he asked, chewing slowly as he awaited his answer.

“It’s no different than human teeth, I would imagine.” Kisame’s eyes shifted from him to Itachi, as if to confirm. His white eyes lingering over Shizuma’s head for only a moment before they returned back to him. “They should begin to shift around and wiggle when you poke them.” 

His words as unhelpful as they were direct. 

“Yes, yes, clearly.” Shizuma ushered the idea on before elaborating, “I was more-so referring to unhealthy teeth. Is there a way to know which does not require poking and prodding? Or should it be assumed that those will fall out before the others? And if so, how long after the deterioration begins should it take?” 

His own intent gaze never once wavering even as Kisame let out a low hum of consideration at his words; his head seeming to dip a bit so he was eye-level with Shizuma once more.  

“Yes, the rotten ones should be the first to fall. As for how long it takes…it depends. If they’re aching, it’s sometimes easier to simply pull them out and start anew rather than wait. Though it’s a bit difficult to fulfil such feats yourself when the gums are tender.” Shizuma backed up in his seat just a bit as he saw the other once more intrude into his personal space, his mouth clicking shut to finish chewing the piece of his sandwich as the other suggested, “If this is the case for you, I’m willing to try to aid you. Though Itachi may fare better, considering the size of my hands.”  

The monster of a man leaning back a bit as he glanced idly at his palm, as though truly considering it! 

“Very funny.” Shizuma scowled mildly, his shoulders pinching a bit as he leaned away from the elder shinobi with a brief warning glare. The throbbing in the back of his mouth painful at times, but certainly not worth going so far as inviting the two to go rooting around in his mouth for cavities.  

He did not relent in his warning glances even as the other merely lifted a brow, his gaze rising from his hand to Shizuma as he corrected bluntly, “It’s not a joke. If you’d like for it to continue rotting in your mouth, go right ahead. However, do know that the option is there.”  

The underlying hint in his voice heard but ignored, the unspoken criticism that Shizuma had endured significantly more pain than that in the last week lingering heavy in the air.  

Lightly, Shizuma ducted his head down a bit, taking a rough bite of his sandwich as his brows remained furrowed back at the other.  

“I don’t recall claiming to have such issues. Perhaps my question was hypothetical in nature.” he excused himself, walking the thin line between dismissing the conversation topic and lying to the man once more. Careful not to slip and fall onto either side as he spoke. 

The brief sigh from Kisame his only sign of victory in his endeavors.  

“Fine then. Are there any other questions you have for me which are hypothetical in nature?” Kisame allowed after a long moment, his brows still locked together as he reluctantly allowed them to move onto the next matter. His thin frown deepening just a bit as Shizuma continued onto the next one.  

“How is one supposed to go about getting their partner’s parent’s blessing for marriage if they’ve been disowned? Or their parents harbor ill-will towards their child?” Shizuma snipped bluntly, crossing his arms even as he lifted his hand to tear a bite off of his second sandwich. “Would they simply skip to the next of kin, or one less bias?”  

Shizuma wanted to do it right if he ever did elect to do it, after all, but at the same time. He had little interest in allowing soured old elders to ruin his shot at happiness. Particularly if they were not of the clan. 

“…Shizuma, you may be a bit obnoxious at times, but we have no plans of disownment or sabotage. There is no need to plan for such things.” Kisame elbowed him, his lips forced upwards and into an attempt at a teasing smile as he spoke; the man semi-sincere in his lightheartedness for perhaps the first time since chewing him out for his efforts with Deidara.   

Lightly, Shizuma stuck out his tongue, reaching out to lightly kick the man’s leg in retribution for his shoving.

“I don’t recall saying anything about the likes of you. So self-centered.” he scolded the man, listening as his slightly stiffened muscles seemed to relax across from him. “I merely thought I should ask, considering the majority of the people I am familiar with have found themselves in such situations. It will be of use to know.”  

Shizuma stared at the man with focus as he spoke, daring him to once again tease him over his non-existent romances back home. His foot already stiff in preparation for another kick if he dared. 

A long moment passed before finally the other spoke appeasingly, “Alright, alright. If this is the case, you may move onto the next reliable kin. After all, it is the point of it to assure that you are fit as a husband.” Kisame mused lowly, leaning back a bit to rest his elbow over the back of his chair. His sandwich finally bitten into once more as he looked down towards Shizuma. “Not that I imagine such a day is running towards us.” 

His beady white eyes sending an awkward shot of electricity through Shizuma as he sat, the younger glancing between him and his own sandwich as he mumbled lowly, “Yes, well, it’s better I know now rather than later.” 

Taking another bite from his sandwich, Shizuma added, “Though. Speaking of such matters. How does…” 

He paused for only moment before furrowing his brows, rebeginning, “How do such things work when both halves of the couple are of the same sex? Are they both expected to court the other in the same fashion they would if they were straight? With the same requests and offerings being made to the parents? Or is it settled differently?”  

Unwilling to waver in his stiff eye contact even as he saw the elder shinobi relax increasingly further with his inquires. The awkward sigh from behind him set to the side for now, Itachi’s woes unable to steer him off track and towards a longer discussion.  

“Once more, it depends.” Kisame mused lightly ahead of him, surprisingly still sincere as he shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, anything it takes to sway the parents of the couple is fair game. I found myself off the hook personally when it came to such matters, though Itachi was not quite so lucky if you wish for more vivid examples of what is to come.” 

The man looked to Itachi as if to turn the conversation over to him, unblinking as Shizuma’s brows furrowed further; his lips falling into a thin frown as his head snapped over towards Itachi. What, precisely, was that supposed to mean? 

Itachi’s avoiding eyes helped him little with his questions. The silence lingering heavy between the three as the dark haired man looked awkwardly into his own sandwich. As though he could escape the questioning in such a manner. 

Finally, Shizuma broke the quiet which had begun to spread through the room.  

“…Does being a missing-nin not exempt you from such pleasantries?” Shizuma asked bluntly, his lips turning down slightly as he saw the worn and tired expression on Itachi’s face. 

“…Not when your partner’s mother loves him enough to welcome him back home, even in exile.” the elder Uchiha spoke, his expression one of mild mourning. 

Oh.  

“Your mother is alive?” Shizuma turned his head back over towards Kisame, his back straight as he took another bite from his sandwich. “I thought the generations above, below, and adjacent to a traitor got their heads lopped off in the bloody mist?”  

“…Or something like that.” His wording softening a bit as he saw the man’s expression fall back towards one of scolding displeasure, the scowl which befell Kisame’s face surely harsh enough to cause most to fall where there they stood.  

The elder shinobi remained staring down at him for a long few seconds before he finally allowed the scolding look to wear off, a low sigh leaving his lips as he turned to glance elsewhere in mock-disinterest. 

“In most cases, yes.” Kisame agreed mildly before adding, “She, however, just so happened to have a favor or two to call into the Mizukage. So she was able to keep her head attached to her shoulders when it came time for her final fall.”  

Seemingly just as uninterested in answering further questions regarding the matter as Shizuma was in asking.  

Metaphorically, Shizuma patted the ground, smoothing over the grave of his uncouth questioning and praying for its peace. 

“Ah, how wonderful…” Shizuma scratched the back of his neck before returning to Itachi, his eyes shamelessly pleading as he sought his rescue. The low sigh from the dark haired man singing blessedly against his ears.  

“Point being,” Itachi began once more, “She was alive when the time came, and kind enough to indulge us with her blessing after only a week or two of visiting and menial challenges. Combat, cooking, chess, hunting, unpaid hard labor. The usual run down, even with us being missing-nin.” 

Itachi shook his head briefly, his tone uneven, as though he couldn’t quite decide whether to look back on the events fondly or not as he mused, “Though, when it came to our blessing, I imagine my reputation served as a much taller hurdle than any of those petty skills. With any luck, your trials may not prove quite so difficult.” 

Silently, Shizuma thought back to his old borderline personal seat in the principal’s office. To the sour glances the other war-orphans still sent his way. To the clan elder’s less than pleased expressions every time he wound up in front of them, no one in the village quite sure what else to do with him for his crime of existence. And occasional violence.  

If he wanted to get married, he decided, it would have to be to someone whose parents either came from the old age as his did. Or simply didn’t care to meddle in their child’s affairs. For there was no way he would receive the blessing of someone half-aware of his reputation.  

“Fine, I wasn’t going to marry in-clan anyway…” he mumbled briefly to himself, his brows furrowed as he took the last bite of his sandwich. Reaching for his third one even as he heard Kisame’s low huff of amusement from his side. Apparently opting to be kind with his forgiveness this time around. Shizuma glanced over towards him, brows furrowed. “What?” 

“What’s wrong with marrying within the clan?” Kisame asked, even as he seemed decidedly unbothered by his decision. “Don’t tell me you’ve been scared off by mere formalities.”  

“I haven’t.” Shizuma scowled at the suggestion, crossing his arms even as he continued to eat. “I’m merely avoiding setting myself up for failure. I have no interest in jumping through a dozen hoops only to end up either at the bottom of the barrel with a male partner or stuck helping rear a bunch of brats for decades of my life with a female.” 

“Ah, you don’t want a couple little ones, swimming beside you on the beach?” 

“Not four or five.”  

“Oh? But I thought you were a teacher?” 

Shizuma glared heavily as he saw the man’s lips curve back up into that obnoxious taunting smile of his, half wishing he would return to his disappointment and scolding.  

“I am. However. That does not mean I do not spend every morning cursing the Mizukage for his inability to keep his nose out of my business.” he glanced elsewhere, brows furrowing in annoyance at the very thought. “…Some children are fine, and I’m certain I would like my own just fine, but that does not mean I’ll put myself in a situation where I’m damned to have an entire school of them up my ass for two decades.” 

With his luck, he’d fuck them all up at once and have a tiny army of children out to kill him in his golden years.  

Which. As a matter a fact.  

Shizuma turned fully towards Kisame in his chair, cutting off the man’s low rumbly laughter with sharp words of his own. “Speaking of which. Twenty years?” he borderline accused the man, still half certain he had been poking fun at him through the scroll. “On a shinobi’s life expectancy?” 

Kisame had the nerve to look almost confused for a split second as he finished soothing his own laughter with a hand to his gut - the palm laying flat against his stomach as if to keep his cruel amusement in place. “Twenty- ah, you mean the coming of age requirements.” 

The man shook his head briefly, picking up a second sandwich of his own as he looked down at him with a too-amused expression. “Yes. On a shinobi’s life expectancy.” he agreed easily, “How do you think we Hoshigaki manage to live so long?” 

…Shizuma had a feeling the answer was neither shark trivia nor sheer toughness as he had previously assumed… 

“We keep. Our pups. Out. Of. Trouble.” Shizuma’s nose scrunched up a bit, his spine straight as the man lightly tapped his nose; the action for once light enough not to really do anything beyond cause some annoyance. “At the very least until we are certain they can do so themselves.” 

“But-” 

“I quite like you, Shizuma. However. I will not be changing centuries of clan tradition for you.”  

Kisame cut him off before he could so much as begin to argue his case, his vaguely amused glance sending needle pricks up Shizuma’s spine. The man had spent all morning harassing him, was that not enough? Did he insist on teasing him as well? 

Shizuma frowned deeply up at the other, debating on the merits of trying again regardless of his interruptions when the other added his unhelpful reminder, “Besides. You have quite a ways to go before you’re able to fulfil the rest of the requirements anyway. Isn’t that right?”  

Kisame’s arrogance not quite unearned, but leaving Shizuma with a harsh bruise to his ego even so. For while it was true even he wasn’t prepared to claim he could best Kisame in a fight. One would think this would be the appropriate area for all that unneeded humility of his to cover.  

“I suppose…” Shizuma allowed after a long moment, looking up to the other with a heavy frown even as he let it pass. His previous unrest doubled as the moments ticked further and further on and it became apparent that the man was not, in fact, teasing him. 

“Is that all, then?” Kisame continued when he didn’t say anything more, his beady white eyes lingering on him from above as he took another bite of his lunch. “Or was there anything else?” 

Shizuma allowed a long moment to pass before finally he nodded, turning back so he was sitting properly in his chair for approximately three seconds before lifting his legs up to his chest - his fourth and final sandwich bitten into as he spoke.

Less than pleased with the outcome, but supposing he had no way to fight it for now.  

“…You mentioned it was best to steer clear of vibrant lights, high-voltage areas, and excessively loud racket. That’s nearly impossible in modern-day Kiri.” Shizuma criticized, looking over to the other out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m practiced enough in droning out others’ heartbeats unless I need them, but how am I to ignore such a broad range of my surroundings? Here and now isn't so bad, but modern Kiri is another matter all together."

"The lights here don’t hurt a quarter as badly as the one’s in my time. Perhaps since they aren’t LEDs, or perhaps due to there being less of them…”  Shizuma narrowed his eyes lightly as he looked up at the light, his gills twitching as he considered it. “Not to mention the amount of electricity running through most buildings there, or the thundering of hundreds of tourists in and out, treating the village like their personal playground. Avoiding such places…it’s impractical as it is improbable.” 

He turned his head to look back towards the other as he asked his question, his face half-buried in his sleeve as he let out a low huff of annoyance at the very idea.

What a blessing it must be, to not have to worry about such things in this era of theirs.  

Shizuma kept his eyes locked with Kisame’s as he listened to the slow and steady reply of the elder, the man’s lips dipping down just a bit as he listened to the pathetically weak whine of a question.  

“It’s as I said.” Kisame answered after a brief moment, even with his low lips dipping into a frown. “It takes practice. Perhaps once we begin training, we can focus on that first.”  

His words unhelpful still…but promising, at the very least. 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long after that their lunch finally came to an end.  

Itachi was the first to rise from his seat as he once more made his way towards the sink with their dishes, his back turned to them as he rinsed each one. It was still such an odd sight to see, considering just who he was, but one Shizuma supposed was necessary if they wished to avoid an array of filth overtaking the kitchen.  

Slowly, he stood, wiping his mouth with a light nod as Itachi noted from the other side of the room, “We can discuss any questions you might have regarding the Uchiha clan tonight, should you finish the other half of your reading as you intend. Please be sure to take your time to read through the sheets carefully, however, and avoid using your sharingan to simply copy the information. It does you little good to keep records, no matter how permanent, if you never stop to properly read them.”  

The man’s back remained blessedly turned as he spoke, unseeing of the way Shizuma’s gills clipped shut on reflex as his arms fell back down to linger at his sides to his sides.

Briefly, Shizuma glanced elsewhere, focusing with all his might on keeping his heart steady so as not to alert Kisame of his attempt to side-step the truth. His fingers holding idly onto the ends of his sleeve as he dismissed the thought, ”Yes, of course."

A promise he would keep whether he liked it or not.

His eyes as boresome and unblessed as they day he was created, even if he didn’t quite want to admit as much at the moment. His attempts to conceal such things futile in the long run, but necessary for his own currently beaten pride.  

“Good.” Itachi nodded from the sink, his hands carrying on with their busywork so easily, as though the thought that he might not yet have his sharingan wasn’t even a possibility to him. His standards so low, yet still unmet, Shizuma couldn’t help but think with a brief scrunch of his nose. 

He very nearly leapt out of his skin as he felt Kisame rest a heavy set of hands on his shoulders from behind, the taller shinobi having somehow managed to sneak behind him as he stood. His white-eyes looked over the top of his head and towards Itachi, unnoticing even as Shizuma craned his head upwards to look at him. 

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him while he studies,” Kisame promised overhead, his fingers tapping idly on either of Shizuma’s shoulders as he spoke.

A vague burning sensation left in his wake despite his lack of force or ill intention.

The elder shinobi did not so much as look down at him to see the heavy frown being sent his way, let alone the slightly scrunched-up nose. “So please, don’t worry about such things, Itachi.” 

“Did you already finish working with all the weapons? How do you intend to watch me from the armoury?” Shizuma criticised, despite knowing quite well that he would require no such surveillance. Half worried he had somehow given his failure away, half offended by the idea that Kisame might think him as simple as a houseplant.  

“I have not.” Kisame gave his shoulders one final pat as he finally looked down at him, the corners of his mouth stretching outwards and into a decidedly unpleasant smile. “However, it will be quite easy to manage both, as you will be joining me in the armoury."

“I already gathered your notebook and scroll from your room,” he continued even as Shizuma opened his mouth to ask about the sudden shift in plans, the younger’s jaw opening only to click shut the very next moment as Kisame mused, “Earlier, when I went there to fetch you and found that you were not within.” 

Lightly, Shizuma tilted his head down, his gills fluttering awkwardly in mixed agitation and embarrassment.  

Really now, as much as the two may like to claim and play otherwise, it wasn’t as though he were truly a child! Perhaps he had been wrong to play specifics with Kisame’s warnings and take advantage of Itachi’s loose wording, but he did not need to be watched over like an academy student! Besides, they’d already amended their instructions. It wasn’t as though he intended to oppose them directly.  

“That is not necessary.” 

“I believe it is.” 

“I’m not going to-” 

“Shizuma.” 

“I’m more than capable of-” 

“Shizuma.”  

He could feel his gills flapping in agitation as the man interrupted him a second time, his heels digging into the ground on reflex as his jaw tightened. His narrowed eyes lingered on Itachi’s back as the man made no move to aid either of them, far more interested in drying their dishes than stopping the absurdity at hand. 

“…Fine.” Shizuma muttered after a long moment, crossing his arms as he glanced elsewhere in disinterest.

He supposed further argument would only serve to make his eventual defeat more needlessly humiliating than it already was - the stubborn, stubborn man unwilling to listen to reason no matter how he tried. At least this way, he would be able to keep some semblance of his pride intact.  

“Thank you.” The hollow, bullshit words left Kisame’s mouth without pause, the damn bully of a man quick to pat his shoulders in a final mockery as he gave his goodbyes to the dark-haired man, “We’ll see you a bit later then, Itachi.”  

Kisame left only a moment for the other to nod in turn before he slipped his hands off Shizuma’s shoulders, moving ahead towards the armoury as if expecting him to follow like a damn dog. His actions were easy and calm, his gaze never once sent back behind him as they walked towards the armoury. No doubt feeling the ever-loyal mutt on his heels. 

Silently, Shizuma forced down his fuming, biting his tongue as they walked. 

The younger shinobi reminded himself, mildly, that this was not something which should be unexpected. He was not their partner, after all. He was their student.

And students, sometimes, were expected to follow through with their master’s ridiculous requests. No matter how unjust, no matter how humiliating, no matter how unreasonable. It was his job to suffer it, as Kisame’s disciple. No matter how he might disagree. If not to claim a teaching of today, to be allowed to claim one tomorrow.  

If Kisame thought him too stupid and incapable to be left alone, it was his own fault for not managing to dissuade the notion before it could be born, he silently admitted as he plopped down in the corner furthest from the man’s cleaning set-up. His back turned to the other as he snatched the offered scroll and notebook from Kisame’s outstretched hand, mumbling dutifully even as he felt himself begin to lose steam, “Thank you.” 

…The dust from the room was quite annoying as he reached up to rub his irritated eyes, his brows furrowing a bit as he made himself comfortable in the corner of the room - his back turned to Kisame as he leaned up against one of the walls, head tilted down towards the scroll in hand. The Uchiha Clan’s crest displayed there so vividly, even before he so much as opened it.  

He could hear Kisame shifting around behind him as he began to unscroll it, his eyes lying heavy on the paper as his free hand dropped back down to his lap. It seemed this one followed a near-identical format to the previous. No doubt due to the two clones’ shared proximity at the time of creation.  

Creation legend… 

Holidays… 

Spirits… 

Kekki Genkai adjustments… 

Coming of age… 

Courting… 

Marriage… 

Shizuma got about halfway through his skimming before he heard Kisame clear his throat from his spot across the room, clearly trying to gather his attention.  

No doubt hinting that he needed to turn around so that he could properly fulfil his promise to watch him for Itachi, Shizuma realised near-immediately, his teeth clenching together tightly in annoyance as he reached up to rub at his face one final time.  

The pre-teen forced the last lingering remains of his distasteful sulking from his expression as he let a long sigh escape his gills - lifting himself from his spot propped up against the wall to turn towards the elder shinobi using his other shoulder. Eyes still focused entirely on the scroll as he sat, brows furrowed despite his best efforts to force his lips into an unbothered smile. 

“Shizuma.” his eyes twitched briefly as he heard Kisame begin once more from his seat on the opposite side of the room, his voice low and steady. Perhaps unsatisfied with his field of vision and wishing for him to move closer, perhaps unsatisfied with him for another reason altogether. The man seeming to think him a psychic as he said nothing more. 

“…Yes?” Shizuma asked after a long few seconds, continuing to stare down at the scroll even as he spoke. His eyes drifted over the section heads he had already skimmed and onto the others, noting idly that there were brief differences between the two scrolls after all. Namely, the Uchiha clan had quite a little list of clan recipes to be found.  

“Come here.” his eyes flickered upwards from the scroll and towards Kisame, his brows pressing together further as the dismissive smile fell from his lips. He could see the crease likewise in Kisame’s own brow, the man’s lips a low frown as he motioned Shizuma forward; the half-polished sword on his lap balancing carefully over his knee as he spoke.  

Slowly, Shizuma rerolled his scroll, letting out a low sigh from his gills as he stood up from his spot on the ground. His footsteps were steady as they were quiet as he made his way towards the elder shinobi, head tilted downwards and off to the side as he parked himself in front of the other.  

He had gotten far too comfortable far too quickly, he knew.

Backtalking, sneaking off when he could have been working, playing willfully ignorant with their words, practically climbing up their sides at every chance to stick his nose in their business.

He’d want to snap his neck too, if he were his student.  

Shizuma lingered heavily in front of the other, his scroll held tightly in hand as he waited for Kisame’s final judgement. Supposing, mildly, that it was for the best that he simply accept it so that they could move on to other matters. His previous misconception that the man had let him off the hook after only the brief scolding erased.   

Lightly, the corners of Shizuma’s mouth pinched downwards as Kisame lifted a hand; his eyes following it with an otherwise blank expression. He watched as it lifted from its spot holding the sword to the spot on the mudroom bench beside him, one hand left to balance the weapon as the other thumped lightly on the wood.  

“Take a seat, relax.” Kisame ordered, slipping his hand up off the bench to make room for him - his gaze lingering heavily on Shizuma as the younger sat down at once. Their eyes locked in a stiff stand-off even as Kisame leaned over to rest his arm loosely over Shizuma’s shoulder. The two locked in place for a long few seconds before the other turned his attention down to the sword at hand. “You’ve been far too quiet today. It’s beginning to give me the creeps.” 

The nearly-seven-foot-tall-boulder-of-a-shinobi not so much as seeming to blink as he said this. 

Firmly, Shizuma gripped the scroll on his lap, head tilted up to look at the taller man for only a brief moment before allowing it to fall back down. His gaze unsteady as he fought for the appropriate thing to say.  

After all, ‘You have been mad at me’ was far too childish of a reason to utter.  

“…Come now, I know you can talk.” Shizuma’s brows pinched together a bit in brief weariness as he felt the hand hanging over his shoulder reach up - the backside of Kisame’s large index finger tracing slowly up and down the bridge of his nose; an odd and faintly fuzzy feeling lingering there as he did so.

The action seemed to pull the weight from Shizuma's chest with each swipe despite his best efforts to remain stoic, the tension there released without warning.

His brows remained furrowed even as he leaned forward and into the only vaguely familiar fuzzy sensation, his eyes fighting between trying to look up at the finger and the urge to slide closed; his mouth pursed slightly as his gills fluttered in confused calmness. The low noise of amusement from beside him registering only mildly as he listened to Kisame’s voice. “Pfft, don’t fall asleep now, when I’m trying to speak with you.” 

The bloody sadist allowed for two more swipes along the bridge of his nose before letting his hand go limp over Shizuma’s shoulder, the younger’s eyes opening semi-hazily to send the man a cut-eyed glare. The horrible twist in his stomach gone now and replaced by his ire.  

“I wasn’t.” Shizuma mumbled briefly, lowering his head to rub the last of the odd feeling from the tip of his nose. His eyes locked with Kisame’s all the while, lips turned downwards in a brief pout. “What is it you want me to say?” 

“Whatever it is you’d like.” 

“Unless it’s something you wouldn’t.”  

Shizuma let his legs pull up against his stomach as he spoke, his head ducking down to rest behind his knees as he peered over them to look at the larger shinobi. His eyes narrowed as he carefully baited the man, the hand dangling over his shoulder held in half-attention as he switched between it and the quiet expression ahead. 

Lightly, Shizuma’s toes curled as he watched Kisame, his words neither accusing nor angry as they would normally be. The steady tight-rope treated with the utmost caution as he did his best to determine where exactly Kisame fell on it.  

His fingers twitched lightly around the scroll, which had been sandwiched between his stomach and knees, as Kisame turned his head back towards his sword. A low sigh seemed to rattle through the mammoth of a man as he seemed to consider Shizuma’s words, his lips locked downwards into the same unreadable expression even as the minutes passed on. 

Eventually, the silence broke. 

“I suppose that’s fair enough.” Kisame spoke after a long moment, his eyes focused forward even as Shizuma felt the hand on his shoulder lower to rub along his bicep in a terribly stiff fashion.

Shizuma glanced briefly at the hand on his arm even as he kept his head ducked easily behind his legs, the oddly rough yet light movement as  near-mesmerising as it was odd.

“…You know.” Kisame began to his side, his eyes seeming to focus on something at long last. “When I was but a guppy, I was of a quite similar opinion to you when it came to the thought of having children. I recall quite clearly what I told my mother.” 

“Had I wanted to deal with a bunch of grubby-handed monsters tailing my every move, I would have allowed my womb-mates to escape her body with me.” Kisame’s lips turned upwards in wry amusement, unhalting even as Shizuma felt himself reflexively pull away from him slightly, held in place only by the hand on his arm.  

Mildly, Shizuma forced himself to remember the man’s words from yesterday. Had he wished to eat him, it would have been before he bothered dressing him head to toe in a dozen different pieces.

Yet still. 

“She was quite unhappy, as you can imagine.” Kisame carried on despite Shizuma’s private reservations, just as ready to beat around the bush as ever as he spoke with vague amusement, “She was certain I would understand one day, when I met a nice woman who would call me her own. I still remember her seemingly endless lecture, so angry as she chopped up the fish for dinner that night. Fish that I was certain she would replace with my head if she had the chance.” 

…Silently, Shizuma found the dull inkling of disdain he had felt growing towards the unknown woman in the back of his mind fade, just a bit. The earlier revelation that she was alive, and the subsequent realisation that she could have come knocking at the orphanage’s door just as much as anyone else in his clan, disappearing in an instant as he imagined the terror of a woman mad enough to cow Kisame...

The man paused briefly, shaking his head as he tittered, “It was all quite the ordeal. One which didn’t end until late in the night, with her kneeling down to tuck her sorry bastard of a son into bed. Trying so very diligently to explain to him why such things were far from acceptable to say.” 

Lightly, Shizuma allowed his eyes to drift up from his arm to the man, his expression pinching just a bit as he listened.  

Was that what he was getting at?

Was this all merely a long way to say he should know when to shut his mouth and listen before he got in trouble?

That he had grown far too comfortable opening his foul mouth?

That he should take their criticisms better, rather than sitting and sulking in the corner like a-

“It was quite infuriating.” Kisame interrupted his thoughts, lips turning upwards further as he spoke. “I was certain she was mistaken, that the years of living like a princess as the granddaughter of one of the head households had tricked her into clinging to far too many rigid expectations."

He paused momentarily before amending, "Though, I believe at the time I worded it a bit differently. Something along the lines of her being a terrible old wretch who was incapable of taking a joke, I believe it was. Not that my father cared much for that description either…Ah, I saw my life flash before my eyes twice that day.”

Kisame laughed briefly, unaware as Shizuma watched with slightly widened and attentive eyes from behind his knees. The younger shinobi’s lips tilted down slightly, even as he felt an odd mix of feelings enter his gut at the story. The sensation neither pleasant nor poor, the feeling indescribable outside of its sheer heaviness within him.

"Regardless, though, my point was…it was a misconception that remained for many years. One I nearly forgot about, until this last year, when Itachi and I made our visit to claim her blessing.”  

“Oh?” Shizuma leaned forward a bit, allowing his head to rest on the taller shinobi’s bulky arm, just below his gills. Supposing it was a safe enough way to release some of the tension from his lower back, if the hand lingering still on his shoulder was anything to go off.

Kisame’s laughter not sounding malicious, at least.

“Mhm.” Kisame returned his noncommitted response with one of his own, the man’s hand halting only briefly in its rubbing before continuing on, “As it turns out, it was not a matter of rigid expectations…but rather, her own personal thoughts on the matter. She believed at the time, despite my childish foulness, that I  would make for a great father someday. It was such a simultaneous shame and convenience, she had said during our visit, that I had managed to find a partner and life which would leave me unburdened by such things.”  

Shizuma’s lips pressed firmly together as he listened, the feeling in his stomach twisting to something less pleasant as the other didn’t so much as miss a beat with his words, “It’s quite ironic, looking back on it now.” 

“The day she finally came to accept that I was truly uninterested in such things…was a mere year before I finally changed my mind.”  

Shizuma felt his stomach leap up and into his throat, his gills flashing outwards as the taller shinobi finally turned his head to look down at him once more. He could feel the blue blush beginning to creep over his face, even as he forced his voice steady. “If this is a long, elaborate way to say I should reconsider my disinterest in marrying within the clan. I’ll have zero children instead of my previously intended one or two.”  

“Shizuma…” Kisame turned his head back away, lifting his other hand from its spot resting on the sword’s hilt to rest his fingers to his own forehead with a tight look of amusement.  “Whether you have zero, two, or ten pups of your own. It is up to you to decide for yourself.”

Shizuma let out a low huff from either of his gills as the other lowered his hand near immediately, looking down at him once more. “I believe you know quite well what I aim to convey.” 

“We may have only met you a mere week or two ago, but already I’ve grown to find you quite…interesting.” Shizuma’s brows pressed downwards slightly at the description, only to prop back up as he felt the hand on his arm slide upwards to dangle back around his neck. The man’s hand reaching up to once more itch at the bridge of his nose in a shameless manipulation of his weakness. “And so it would be quite the shame to lose you now, particularly at the hands of your own foolishness.” 

Shizuma sent the man a brief glare even as he once more tilted his head upwards and into his hand, his tone caught somewhere between annoyed and warning as he muttered, “…I don’t believe I’m the foolish one here.”  

Silently criticising their too-quick undertaking of him, the fools having not waited even a week after waking him to dump hours of work and insane amounts of cash into his stay. Promising him training and teachings alike simply because he shared their blood, despite the dozens before who had opted to ignore his presence despite meeting the very same criteria. Continuing to claim he had earned their favour even as he seemed to trip and stumble over both of their nerves time and time again. It was ridiculous. Noble, he supposed, but ridiculous. 

“Ah, then what would you call it?” Kisame inquired from above, lowering his hand after a brief few seconds. His face slowly coming into view as Shizuma reopened eyes he hadn’t remembered closing. “Sneaking off in the early morning, then once again near noon, to play poke-the-bear with missing-nin? Missing-nin, which you had already been warned of an entire day before you had even claimed residency within their halls.”  

Slowly, Shizuma turned his head, resting his ear to the man’s arm instead as he stared ahead at the other side of the room.  

He supposed his plans hadn’t been the most well-thought-out. Yet at the same time. He found it hard to claim he regretted it, and near-impossible to do so truthfully. 

So instead, he settled on answering mildly, his eyes glancing downwards just a bit as he picked at the tips of his nails.  

“…I grew bored. There wasn’t a thing to work on this morning, and I didn’t imagine Itachi would be thrilled with me training quite yet. So I settled on a walk.” he semi-explained, knowing that the elder shinobi was correct in his assumptions that he had been far from avoiding the other missing-nins, but not eager to simplify his actions so heavily. “As for the afternoon…my eyes were growing heavy, so I was taking a break. I ran into Deidara in the kitchen and merely thought…perhaps…it might be a good idea to say hello while the opportunity was there. Ignoring him seemed rude.”  

A heavy beat of silence lingered between them as Shizuma finished speaking, the younger Hoshigaki’s hands slowly falling back to rest on the tops of his knees as he listened to the semi-steady heartbeat beside him. 

“…Yes, well, the Akatsuki has no shortage of rude individuals within its ranks. Had you chosen to ignore him, it would have been far from unusual.” Kisame mused to his side, as if considering it. “Though, I suppose you aren’t wrong to want for their good graces. If for no other reason than to steer clear of their ill temperaments.” 

Kisame paused only momentarily before noting, “Nor should I begrudge you too terribly for wanting to seek them out for information’s sake. Even if I can’t quite allow it…I would be lying if I claimed I wouldn’t do just the same. After all, information is quite powerful. Even with Itachi and myself keeping watch over you, it’s quite fair that you would want for a weapon of some sort to keep you safe. Particularly when your physical skills are far from sufficing at the moment…”  

Shizuma bit down the urge to argue with the man on his blunt latter words, supposing they weren’t all that wrong, yet still finding himself irritated by them even so.  

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his physical skills. It was just. Insurance. That was all. For both the current day and the future. 

“Still though.” Kisame’s hand, which had been resting easily on his arm, lifted before coming down in a hopefully friendly clap on his shoulder. The movement jostled him forward just a bit, even as he stiffened his spine to remain in place. “It’s hardly worth the risk. Making friendly small talk is one thing, but let’s not risk the organisation misunderstanding your actions as those of a mole. Sneaking around before dawn as even hit…had it been Kakuzu or Sasori, I’m afraid we likely would have woken to your corpse.” 

Shizuma peered over at the still-pleasant-faced man with a sour expression, knowing he wasn’t incorrect, but still resisting the urge to argue that he had made sure to avoid those two. Well aware that it would hardly help his case as far as his claims that information gathering was not his intention with these trips. 

“I suppose…” Shizuma relented after a long moment, slowly taking in the other’s words as he shifted a bit, allowing his head to drop down to once more rest idly behind his knees.

He acknowledged lightly to himself that the other wasn’t completely wrong to say his plans hadn’t been the most well-thought-out. His actions led by unrest and boredom rather than any solid goal…his desire to aid them amounting to next to nothing when faced with the fact that he was likely causing more trouble for them than anything else.  

Hopefully, it wasn’t too late to amend his wrongs, and he would still be able to in the future. Once he had a better plan and had proved to them he wasn’t typically the type to rush headfirst into such things, like a silly child catching sight of the shinobi from their favourite trading card and insisting upon capturing a picture. “…Sorry.” 

“Mm, don’t concern yourself with it too much.” Kisame mused lightly to his side, “We should have known better than to leave you sitting for so long, all by your lonesome. Sharks must stay moving if they wish to live, after all…”  

Lightly, Shizuma glanced his way again.  

If it was what the man had to tell himself to be able to be free of any plausible grudges or lingering ires towards him. Shizuma certainly wouldn’t object to the reasoning. 

“It’s fine. It’s not as though I require a keeper.” he mused, his eyes lingering on the side of Kisame’s face, watching as the gills there fluttered in brief amusement. “…I don’t.”  

“No, of course not.” Kisame agreed with a distinct lack of sincerity, his hand once more coming down to pat his shoulder as Shizuma finally forced himself to sit up and off his arm with a brief frown.  

His eyes had grown terribly heavy at some point or another, despite it only being the afternoon, he couldn’t help but notice.  

Chapter Text

“While we’re being mushy and gooey, would you like me to handle that tooth situation of yours?” Kisame hummed from above, the hand which had previously rested on Shizuma’s shoulder lifting until it was dangerously close to his mouth. “I may not be able to promise success; however, I will do my very best to-”  

Shizuma squirmed out of the taller shinobi’s hold at once, lifting Kisame’s arm off of him and shoving it back towards the man’s chest with a quick warning glare. Kisame’s hopefully playful offer not nearly as tempting as he seemed to think it was.

“You may keep your hands to yourself.”

Steadily, Shizuma held his arms out, keeping Kisame’s single larger one pressed to his body for a long few seconds as he spoke. Their eyes matched evenly as they held the mild battle, Kisame’s slowly upturning lips leaving Shizuma caught between doubt and assurance in his actions. 

He supposed Kisame must not mind his rudeness too terribly, if he was willing to carry on with this silly game.

The elder shinobi’s previous ire seemingly gone in its entirety now, as though Shizuma’s willingness to indulge in his old stories and speak the truth of his motives was enough.  

Ah, what a ridiculous man Kisame had turned out to be.

Was he not aware that Shizuma was past the age of naive truths? Did the clan have his brain scrambled enough to believe it was reasonable to be teaching such infantile values to someone of his age? 

Shizuma gave Kisame’s arm one final push - as if to confirm that he was serious in his rejection - before letting his hands drop down and into his lap. Itachi’s poor scroll now thoroughly jostled around and neglected for the afternoon despite its still near-perfect appearance.  

Shizuma let his hands fall back down to rest on the paper even as he kept his eyes steadily on Kisame, the two remaining locked in their silent battle for only a moment more.

Once he was adequately sure there would be no second attack, Shizuma shifted in his seat. 

He turned so that his back was to Kisame, staying like that for less than a second before he allowed his head to plop back down on the elder shinobi’s bicep.

Itachi’s scroll unrolled slowly and carefully as he listened to the vague objections from Kisame, who seemed to think himself above being the one facing torment in this eternal cycle of taunting he insisted on continuing despite Shizuma’s efforts to remain respectful.  

“First an overgrown pirana, now a pillow…how terribly I continue to fall.” Kisame mused lowly from above, even as he remained perfectly still. 

“Yes. Well. It’s as you’ve said. You’ve unjustly ignored me today. So this is the least you can do. Unless you intend to send me back to sitting on the floor thrice in two days.” Shizuma accused mildly, “Or would have me cram myself onto the edge of the bench just for the sake of not being in your way.” 

Shizuma’s gills fluttered lightly in amusement as he heard the low sigh drain from the man behind him, Kisame seeming to consider it for only a moment before allowing, “I suppose this is what Itachi meant yesterday, when he claimed you were kneeling of your own accord. Slippery little thing that you are…” 

Kisame’s criticism distinctly lacking of any true severity, Shizuma noted as he slowly began unrolling Itachi’s scroll until the top portion was visible. The letters far less blurry and out of focus now as he was able to properly stretch his legs out along the small wooden bench.  

He did sink down a bit further against the man’s arm, however, as he heard Kisame ask belatedly, “…Speaking of which. I suppose I can trust you to abide by your promise to Itachi regarding your sharingan, despite this arrangement?”  

“…Yes, yes. Of course.” Shizuma muttered briefly as he turned his gaze to his peripheral, despite knowing he would be unable to see him. “I quite clearly read the prior scroll, didn’t I?”  

Shizuma’s eyes slowly drifted back down to the one at hand, brows pinched a bit as Kisame mused from above, “I suppose so.” his form shifting just slightly as he seemed to rearrange himself so that he could continue to work despite the restrictions Shizuma had placed upon him.  

Shizuma paid it no mind, focusing instead on the scroll before him, as well as the fact that he was no doubt now behind by at the very least an hour. 

He’d have to stay attentive if he wished to fulfil his prior boastings and assurances. 

Lightly, his eyes trailed downwards and over the top section, taking in the vast list of stories that lay there.  

Tales Of The Clan  

It seemed the Uchiha clan had been far more careful with their record-keeping than the Hoshigaki. Though. Shizuma supposed it must be easier when there weren’t a dozen subfactions to keep track of. As far as he knew of, at least… 

Briefly, Shizuma’s eyes began to scan over the top portion, eyes carefully falling over each sentence with blunt curiosity for a clan he knew next to nothing of.  The words before him morphing into something quite fascinating as he read.  

The story of their clan’s founding. 

The story of an unnamed elder and younger brother. 

The story of one with great talent and another with great patience.  

The story of a family unable to understand that which the elder brought forth.  

The story of a family which was far too slow to move beyond the younger’s pace.  

The story of two who were destined to split from the start.  

Hm.  

Shizuma wasn’t quite sure whether to think the clan horribly arrogant for their lengthy paragraphs detailing the greatness of the elder son who would one day become their clan’s founder. Or find confirmation in it.  

After all, the Uchiha clan had been quite the name back in the day if the tales of old held true. It wasn’t as though there were many men who could require a five-nation army to defeat. So at the very least, their arrogance had been earned. 

Lightly, a small puff of amusement escaped either of Shizuma’s gills at the thought. His eyes drifting lower as he continued on with the next story. 

The story of a fight between the elder son’s own great-grandchildren. 

The story of one with eyes which could see the world for what it was. 

The story of another with eyes which naively looked away. 

The story of the younger son who would not forsake their loved ones. 

The story of the elder who insisted they must.  

The story of the Uchiha and Hyuuga clan births. 

Shizuma dutifully read the story once before skipping onto the next one, not all that interested in rereading the story of the Hyuuga clan’s stupidity and subsequent birth. The cruel things they had suggested be done to their own clan were beyond distasteful, the infighting hardly worth it when put up against the outside forces they were facing.  

Really, to be so willing to brand their own rather than putting that effort into training themselves into someone whom others wouldn’t dare mess with. It was beyond lazy.

Not to mention the disgrace of suggesting only part of the clan face such a fate, rather than uniting in the shared burden.

It was all such a terrible mess, one which he couldn’t blame his ancestors in the least for refusing to play along with. 

Even if it had ended with them being the first to fall. At least they had managed to fall with…well. Not quite grace. But something closer. Something he didn’t imagine the likes of the Hyuuga could ever attain.  

Shizuma reached up with his free hand to itch at his forehead, his legs crossing on the bench as he read on. 

Next was the story of a beast-god which had blessed the clan with an affinity for animals after being saved by its clan head… 

Then the story of the next clan head’s grandson who had led with the precision of a hawk, the cunning of a cat, and the genius of a crow… 

Shizuma’s lips quirked upwards in amusement, his head craning towards Kisame as he lifted the scroll - fingers pointing easily to the few sentences detailing the beast-god’s blessing.  

“I wonder, does this apply to beasts of the aquatic sort? Were you destined to be caught from the beginning?” Shizuma tittered mildly, staying in place as he allowed Kisame to read the hoisted-up scroll. “My condolences if so.”  

Kisame was quiet for a long few seconds, before finally, Shizuma heard a low noise of amusement sound from behind him.  

“The condolences are as unnecessary as any blessing would be.” Kisame remarked idly, unrepenting even as Shizuma’s nose scrunched up a bit at his words. 

Ah, Kisame was no fun like this. He had been hoping to get some sort of rise or reaction out of him, not a sappy one-liner about his beloved. Disgusting. 

Shizuma lowered his hands, his cheeks puffing up momentarily. The air filtered out from his gills a mere few seconds later, his brows turning down sternly as he turned his head back to the sheet. “Tsk.” 

He pointedly did not respond back, even as he felt Kisame’s arm shake slightly with his amusement.  

His eyes remained trained on the paper below, his shoulders slumping a bit as he carried on with the last two stories. They were much lengthier now, no doubt due to them being at least semi-recent. But at least they were the last ones.  

The top one the story of an elder brother who had gone mad in his desire for power and taken his younger brother’s eyes straight out of their sockets. 

The bottom one the story of a younger brother who had been so preoccupied with the grievances of the past that he had been unable to see the bright future which could have awaited him. His eyes and light alike stolen in cosmic retribution for his inability to look forward. 

Shizuma’s lips tilted down further, resisting the shiver which ran from the bottom of his spine up to the top. His own eyes twitching briefly at the very idea. 

The Hoshigaki liked to pull out teeth… 

The Uchiha liked to pull out eyes… 

It was truly a match which had been made in hell. 

Hopefully, the stories were little more than exaggeration.  

No. In fact. Shizuma was certain they were.  

It wasn’t as though one could simply tear the eyes from another’s head, let alone their own, just to swap them, after all. There were far too many issues with the concept. If not for the matter of the mixing bloods and severed nerves. For the sheer amount of mental fortitude such things would take. 

Shizuma could perhaps see poking another’s eye out. But tearing it from their skull? Lifting the lid, and- 

Urg.  

He was not easily squeamish, but the idea left a sour taste in his mouth even so. He’d not even begin to consider what it would take to pry his own eyes out.  

“Find something interesting?” 

“…No.”  

“Mhm. I see.”  

Shizuma shifted his hands down to the next section of the scroll, refusing to allow his voice to waver as he refuted the idea. The stories he’d read no doubt meant to scare values and loyalty into susceptible children who were so foolish as to believe what they were hearing. Nothing more. 

“Mhm. It’s just. This scroll is quite a bit longer than the previous.” Shizuma mused lightly, shaking off the previous gory thoughts and instead focusing on keeping his tone steady. His fingers lingered on the scroll as he spoke, “The clan tales alone were easily eight times as long as the other.” 

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s what happens when a clan remains so closely knit for so many years.” Kisame mused idly from behind, “Word of what has happened surely travels fast from one generation to the next.” 

“Besides. Itachi no doubt has many stories which could only live on through you. After all, his brother was barely out of the womb when the others were cut down.” Kisame noted, “Unlike myself, who I suppose could afford to be more lax in my record-keeping. If not due to the vast number of others who know the tales just the same, for the sake of not drowning you under the tides of both the Hoshigaki and Uchiha’s memories.”  

Shizuma’s narrowed a bit as he listened, lips turning downwards a bit at the insinuation that he had purposely held back from listing his own array of stories so as to not overwhelm him. Kisame’s mention of him being Itachi’s only hope of continuing the stories onwards not lost on him. But not able to hide his words either.

“The others in the clan knowing does me little good, Kisame.” 

Shizuma pointedly articulated the other’s name, hoping his displeasure would reach the man despite their inability to see one another from their current angle. The low sight from behind and subsequent hand on his head assuring him that his efforts had succeeded.  

“Ah, now you’re sounding like the arrogant little bratling that I know.” Kisame muttered after a long few seconds, as if unsure whether he was relieved or not. His hand ever-heavy as he rested it on Shizuma’s head. “Finish your current workload before you go making demands of me.”  

…Lightly, Shizuma let out another small huff.  

“Very well.” He allowed despite his own objections, supposing he could always return to it once he was done.

After all, it didn’t seem the two had expected him to finish the first half nearly as fast as he had. So it would only be a matter of time before he was able to.  

Shizuma let his head lower a bit further down, feeling as Kisame’s hand slid off of him and back over to his own work. The slightly oily residue he left behind atop his head annoying, but fine for now.  

Holidays  

Sizuma glanced at the next section, reaching up to smooth over the top of his head and rub the subsequent liquid off on the bench beside him.  

The sun festival at Summer’s start… 

The moon festival at Fall’s beginning… 

The thunder festival which came with Spring… 

The soul festival which came in winter… 

A grand celebration for each of the seasons, each meant to be filled to the brim with shinobi and civilians alike from all corners of the clan and lands.  

Feasts, stories, and dancing displays during the sun festival… 

Stars, talking, and late-night viewings during the moon festival… 

Boisterous dancing, vivid fireworks, and endless food at the thunder festival… 

A dozen small fires held in regard for the lost during the soul festival… 

Shizuma read over the seemingly endless lists of all there was to do at each, his eyes lingering on the barely concealed memories which Itachi pointlessly recounted for him.  

After all, even if it was quite fascinating to read about and imagine, it wasn’t as though such celebrations would ever be in his future. No, no matter how they managed to change the future, that much would not change. For here and now, the clan was already dead. It was something which would not change.  

By the time they made it back to his current day. They might have but five or so remaining, at the very most. Himself, that girl, Sasuke, and Itachi. Perhaps Tobi, though that was highly unlikely. Six, if he split into two different beings during the return…? Eight, maybe, if they were to count Miss Sakura and Kisame as spouses which would be allowed to attend. Or. Four, if Sasuke failed to survive the fight this time around and thus never married his wife or sired his daughter… 

Not that they would all be able to celebrate together, regardless, even if they did somehow both survive their eventual fight.

Lightly, Shizuma shook his head, continuing on with the list if nothing else for the sake of knowledge.

At the very least, he should be aware, should he wind up with children of his own who might someday revive the clan to a point where such celebrations were possible.

Or perhaps he himself would gather the energy to at least hold small ones for them, to keep the pulse of the clan going despite the hard hurdle they had found themselves in. 

“Heart’s Day, Soul’s Day, Blessing’s Day, Parent’s Day…for lovers, loved ones, children, and parents…so many holidays which amount to near-identical themes…” Shizuma tittered mildly as he sat, asking for confirmation, “I don’t imagine Itachi is the type to celebrate any of these?”  

Shizuma’s eyes lingered in his peripheral, listening as Kisame mused from behind him, “He quite enjoyed Heart’s Day this last year, and as for Soul’s Day…he has made mention of it, though he’s never acted on it to the best of my knowledge." The elder Hoshigaki seemed to recall something before noting, “As for Blessing’s Day and Parent’s Day…well. You can imagine why such things haven’t been considered before now.”  

Kisame hummed lightly, in consideration, “New Year’s, however, he does quite enjoy. We’ve celebrated it on his terms for a couple years now.” his words appreciative as he continued on with his work from behind.  

Shizuma’s eyes shifted over to New Year’s, brows risen a bit.  

Was that so? He hadn’t quite imagined the man who had slaughtered his own clan to be the type to do so. But then again. Itachi hardly seemed the type to have done the aforementioned either…not that he was about to question such things now.  

“Watching the moon fall at the end of the year and sun rise as the new one begins? Ah, I suppose it would be quite the spectacle.” Shizuma admitted, his mind crawling back towards Buntan momentarily.

If she enjoyed watching the rise and fall of the sun of the standard day. He was certain she would all but melt at the thought of the first of the year. 

How very romantic of the two, to share such a moment every year, Shizuma couldn’t help but quietly snort as he moved onto the next section.  

Gods   

Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi have guided their clan forward throughout the centuries…though ultimately each man’s actions are their own… 

Susanoo is much the same, though rather than guiding them, he encourages them to channel the storms which he sends rather than fear them… 

The unnamed and unseen beast god, which protects and watches over them. Seen in every turn yet never spotted- 

With just a smidge of guilt, Shizuma snorted once more, reaching up to cover it by rubbing his nose slightly. 

Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi…had Itachi named his eyes after their clan gods? But then.

Susanoo was not unique to Itachi, from his understanding. So had an elder clansman done that?

Perhaps it was why the beast god never revealed itself to their clan. Perhaps it wasn’t eager to become a cheesy namesake as its fellow gods were destined to… 

“Something funny?” 

“No, sir.” 

Shizuma answered on reflex, shaking his head in rejection of the very idea as he did his best to keep his thoughts in line.

Silently, he sent his condolences to the three gods, as well as to Itachi. His free hand lingering against his nose for only a moment more before he managed to wipe the unjust smirk from his face. 

If Itachi and the clan elders so wished. They could name their abilities as they pleased.

Regardless of whether it sounded like something straight off a television - and regardless of whether Shizuma found it beyond entertaining. 

Ah, what was next? 

Kekkai Genkai - 

Ah.  

Kekkai Genkai  

Shizuma felt just a smidge of his amusement leave his body, bit by bit, until there was next to nothing left. His eyes lingering on the scroll before him even as he sank down a bit further against Kisame’s arm. 

Ah. He believed that was what they called ‘karma’, according to Ichirota.  

Shizuma let out a low, defeated sigh as he read the section which seemed to be haunting his every move this afternoon.  

‘Though it may be pointless to say so now…I will confirm a few things even so.’ Shizuma silently read, his brows once more creasing a bit at the wording. ‘At the very least, so that you might know that such things were not abnormal and may properly prepare your own children, should the day someday come.’  

Heavy exhaustion in the weeks after the sharingan is awakened is not uncommon… 

Swaying vision and a period of adjustment after the fact is perfectly normal, particularly when the eyes are active… 

Periodic extreme headaches become more common as the user ages and continues using the eyes… 

Be wary of the photographic memory which follows the awakening…do not look if it is not something you wish to remember until the day death comes…

Do not be unsettled if the eyes activate without warning in moments of great distress…it is not abnormal… 

Nor of the blood which one might spot leaving an elder Uchiha’s eyes…for such things are not typical of the standard sharingan… 

Do not rush the development of the tomoe, as they will change when the time is right... 

Shizuma sank down a bit further still, until his head thumped against the wood where he had previously been sitting. His legs had uncrossed and pulled upwards to remain propped; the scroll lowered to his stomach as he looked up as Kisame. Debating, momentarily, whether to speak or not as the man merely quirked a brow at his shifting. 

On one hand, after all, he knew it was only a matter of time before the two found out that he did not, in fact, have the eyes which they thought he did. Their impending disappointment in his lack of skill understandable, of course, but prepped to sting even so.  

On the other. It would be so easy to keep the play going. To hold off on such things until they had at least seen other areas of his skills. His swordsmanship, if nothing else…it should be able to make a dent in Itachi’s impression of him, if not Kisame’s.  

Scowling briefly in debate, Shizuma lifted the scroll to cover the lower half of his mouth, brows stiff in their spots.  

“Father,” he shamelessly abused the title which the bulkier man had only yesterday sulked over being the last to receive, “Generally, when do most Uchiha unlock their sharingan? Do you know?” 

Shizuma kept his own crystal blue eyes locked onto Kisame’s starkly white ones, unmoving even as the other’s brows continued crawling up his face at the question. His head turning from Shizuma and back over to his work as he set the handful of kunai he was working on to the side, replacing them easily with another dull batch.  

“…Well, let’s see.” Kisame began, his voice considering as he began to wipe down the next batch of weapons. “For what little I know of the matter, I’d say it’s not quite so simple. Itachi’s younger brother had his eyes by the time he was your age, yet some adult shinobi of the clan lacked them in the spare few times we crossed paths on missions. Then there’s Itachi, who has eyes far superior to most others in the clan despite still being a young man himself.” 

Kisame shook his head, as if to dismiss a thought, before setting the kunai he was working on off to the side and switching to another. “Regardless, such things hardly matter. You’ll only set yourself up for failure by comparing your progress to the likes of Itachi, so I would suggest you focus on what you have, rather than what you lack. The base form, even if incomplete, still seems to be fairly impressive for your age. It’ll be more than enough for Itachi to work with, once you finally make it back out to the training fields.”  

Shizuma listened, something in his gut twisting as he slowly rose up from where he was lying. He kept his legs in place as he once more propped his head atop them, a small spark of exasperation entering his voice as he finally summoned the motivation to criticise the assumption. 

“…I do wish you lot wouldn’t go assuming such things.” Shizuma muttered after a long moment, “How, precisely, do you expect me to have my sharingan before I’m so much as aware of how to attain them? If there should be an innate understanding of the matter, I lack it.”  

Shizuma looked down at his feet as he spoke, lightly tapping them to the wood below as he frowned mildly. Why the two insisted on humiliating him by making him say such things aloud? It was beyond him.  

If it was merely to motivate him by making him feel bad, he wouldn’t allow it.

He was a beyond-competent-enough shinobi. Even if he was missing the final piece to the puzzle at the moment.

He had played such games enough with his own students to recognise it when he saw it. 

“Shizuma…” he could hear the sheer tiredness in Kisame’s voice from behind him, “Did we not just manage to finish our discussion surrounding these lies of yours? Even if not ill-intentioned…let’s not start the matter anew.”  

“There is a  difference  between lying and manipulating the specifics of the truth, Kisame.” Sharply, Shizuma twisted his hips, turning his head back towards the man even as he remained in place. “Neither of which I am doing at the moment, I’ll have you know.”  

Shizuma’s eyes remained sharp on the taller Hoshigaki, unwavering despite the steady look of doubt Kisame gave him.  

“Yes, well then, it’s a shame then that you’ve gone and lost your mind at such a young age.” Kisame settled on muttering after a moment, his brows pinching together lightly as he allowed his hands to return back towards his work. “Not that I should be too surprised, given your heritage…” 

“Kisame.” Shizuma reiterated, his own expression once again souring back along with the other. He held his tongue for a far kinder amount of time than he considered reasonable, before finally, he spoke bluntly. “You’re being unreasonable, and frankly, quite rude. If you’re going to claim I should be happy with what I’ve got one moment, do not switch to belittling what I don’t in the next!”  

Shizuma kept his pointed and stern expression strong despite the way Kisame’s eyes slowly returned to him, his hands pausing in what they were doing once more as he seemed to lose every thought within his mind. Or perhaps become buried below the dozens of them. 

“Shizuma, we’ve-” the man stuck the kunai into the bench’s edge beside him so it was out of the way, reaching up to run his hands down his face with no regard for the way the oil on his hands just narrowly missed his rapidly flexing gills.

Seemingly just as irritated by the conversation as Shizuma, as though he had any right to be.  

Shizuma watched him with an unimpressed scowl, his own fingers holding tightly onto his legs as his feet stopped their padding.

‘Shizuma’, what, Kisame?  

“I do not know what you believe you will achieve by hiding such things,” Kisame spoke after a long moment, allowing his hands to fall back down to his lap as he turned his eyes to seemingly see through Shizuma. “But Itachi and I are already well aware of your sharingan. In case you have forgotten. Someone was quite eager to whip out their dojutsu and drain themself of chakra the moment they heard mention of interrogation. Not to mention the dozen little handfuls of times you awoke from your rest, too terrified to bother hiding it.” 

Kisame’s words were pointed as he watched him, eyes steady as if awaiting his admission in the face of this damning evidence. As though the man thought he could will Shizuma into believing facts which were simply untrue, as if he could gaslight him into believing he held the sharingan. As if such a thing would benefit him in the least. 

As though he wouldn’t have noticed his vision blurring out on the dock… 

As though he wouldn’t have felt his body tiring in the weeks since… 

Ah. 

Slowly, Shizuma’s eyes widened a bit as the man’s supposed evidence bled closely together with his own symptoms which - up to this point - he had attributed to blood loss. 

He dropped his legs from their perked up position to let his hips turn fully, the younger shinobi quick to turn around as he all but forgot about the prior list of alligations he was creating for the man.

The slowly regrowing grudge dropped just as swiftly as Itachi’s scroll as he turned to put either of his hands on Kisame’s arm. His own face nearing to Kisame’s until their noses practically touched, his eyes wide in excitement which could not be dampened by the likes of his father’s confused and borderline weary expression.  

“You mean to say you saw the sharingan, in my eyes? You’re certain it wasn’t merely yours playing tricks on you?” Shizuma urged the elder shinobi, ignoring the way the wooden bench scraped against his knees as he held tightly onto the arm of the larger Hoshigaki. “You saw it not once, but many times? Both on the docks and within the lab?” 

“Ack!” Shizuma yelped lightly as he felt Kisame’s free hand come down on his forehead, the gentle bump back and out of the man’s face leaving him tumbling backwards slightly and onto his rear. "Excuse me!"

“You’re excused,” Kisame answered, his hand still lingering in the air from where he had nudged Shizuma down and out of his face.

His brows remained pinched even as Shizuma's did in turn, his excitement souring just a bit at Kisame’s refusal to answer. “You mean to say you were unaware?”  

Kisame asked it so earnestly, as though the thought were hardly a possibility for him.  

“How would I know?” Shizuma reiterated, reaching up to rub at his forehead with a brief pout. “It’s as I’ve said, I’m not even aware of the steps it would take to acquire the eyes! So how should I have any knowledge of my supposed acquisition?”  

Shizuma’s brows screwed together tightly as he muttered in mild consideration, “Was it a matter of proximity to Itachi? A sort of bluetooth, so to speak? Or, no, that couldn’t be the case. No, then all Uchiha would surely have it…” he tilted his head up and towards the cieling, considering it with no regard for the now doubly perplexed Kisame. 

“Blueteeth- what are you on about now?” 

Chapter Text

“Ah, apologies, but you’re of little use today.” Shizuma shook his head, turning and sliding off the workbench in one easy movement. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go take a look.”  

He took precisely two steps towards the door before feeling something behind him halting his movement.  

His head tilted backwards towards the man with an unamused glance as he spotted where Kisame was holding the back of his shirt, his gills fluttering in annoyance at the grip.  

“Can I help you?” 

“Can you sit down and breathe?” 

Shizuma glanced between the elder shinobi and the door ahead, his gills fluttering further as he debated on whether or not to fulfil the request.

On one hand. The bathroom mirror was not going anywhere. On the other. He hardly wanted to sit and play dictionary right now.  

He stayed stubbornly in place for a long few seconds before plopping elegantly back down on the bench, his arms and legs crossed as he looked up at Kisame. “Fine. I’ve sat. I’ve taken a breath. May I go now? I wish to see for myself.”  

Shizuma allowed his foot to pat idly against the floor below as he impatiently awaited Kisame’s permission - well aware his chances of making it to the door without being snagged back were next to zero. Yet hardly able to restrain himself even so.  

If he truly had the eyes. He wanted to see them.  

Based on the way the two had been speaking. It seemed he had an incomplete sharingan. Whether that meant one or two tomoe, he needed to know.

He had been waiting all his life for them to finally appear, so why now should he force himself to wait even longer still? 

“You may not.” Shizuma just barely resisted the urge to fall into past dramatics as he listened to Kisame finally speak, his lips pressing downwards.

Really, what nerve. To tell him he could not go and see the eyes which resided in his very own skull.  

“And why so-ever not?” Shizuma argued, his agitation strong enough that he was unable to so much as find a speck of amusement in Kisame’s face which so closely resembled a fish freshly ripped from the water. “If I have the sharingan, I would like to see it. I’ve not waited twelve years to let it set unseen!” 

He kept his glower locked onto Kisame even as he felt the man rest a hand on his back, then another on his chest, the large hands steady as the man looked down upon him with furrowed brows.  

The elder’s expression focused, as if attempting to will Shizuma into calmness with his eyes alone. 

…Briefly, Shizuma let his own gaze drop down to the hand on his chest, his eyes lingering there just along enough to feel his own heartbeat thumping steadily against Kisame’s palm.  

“Easy there. I hardly imagine you were swimming around in Orochimaru’s tubes, awaiting the day.” Kisame finally spoke, the hand on Shizuma’s back thumping lightly as he attempted to deliver the ill-timed joke. Stopping only as Shizuma kept his flat gaze on the other out of the corner of his eyes. “…But even so. I hardly mean to block your path. I’m only suggesting, perhaps, that you take stock of the situation first?”  

Kisame spoke reasonably, as if he were not in fact physically halting Shizuma from moving forward as he pleased.  

Shizuma lifted his head, allowing his eyes to peer further over towards Kisame out of the edge of his vision as he silently urged the man to hurry on with what exactly he meant. 

“You are still suffering a substantial physical wound, despite what your bounding around would suggest…your body has only just begun to recover from extreme chakra exhaustion…and you’ve hardly managed to keep yourself awake for the duration of the afternoon. So tell me, do you truly think it wise to go playing lightswitch with your eyes, with no way to properly measure how much chakra is enough?”  

Kisame held his gaze steadily as he spoke, as if silently asking whether Shizuma’s ego was too stubborn to admit such things.  

Stiffly, Shizuma held it in turn, his own head only bobbing back down to look towards his lap after a long few seconds.  

“I suppose not…” Shizuma muttered after a moment, his arms uncrossing as Kisame’s lifted up and off of his chest in turn - the one on his back remaining only to give a couple more easy thumps.  

“Good. Now just give me a moment…” Kisame began, standing up beside Shizuma and wiping his hands off on his shirt.

The man turned himself around easily to grab Samehada from off to the side before setting the massive sword in his back holster, continuing to put away his only semi-finished work as though it wasn’t in the least bit a hindrance. “And I’ll be happy to accompany you, as a precaution.” 

Kisame retrieved the kunai which had been discarded earlier, stacking it neatly in the box of finished weapons as he spoke.

His suggestion just a bit overbearing. Yet welcome all the same.  

Shizuma slowly uncrossed his legs and stood, allowing his hands to fall back behind him as he narrowed his eyes just a bit - his head tilting as he watched Kisame move about the room.  

Really, he almost wanted to ask, was such concern truly meant to fit the monster of the mist?  

“…You have my thanks.” Shizuma spoke instead, allowing such thoughts to fall into the back of his mind as he instead found his mind crawling closer towards Kisame’s earlier ones.  

He supposed the cranky-sounding old woman Kisame had called his mother had been right, at least to some degree. Even if he couldn’t help but think he was taking such praises to a degree unwarranted.  

“Mhm.” Shizuma turned to follow along behind Kisame as he heard the low hum of acknowledgement, grabbing the scroll and allowing it to linger in his hold as they walked. His eyes stuck to the back of Kisame’s neck as they moved, his lips falling into a thin frown of consideration. 

Had the spare few others his age he’d known been subjected to such extreme restraints from their parents? He couldn’t quite recall, though still he dug in his distant memory for even a hint of such bizarre nonsense.  

The very concept of worry and Buntan’s mother existing within the same sentence was practically hilarious… 

Ichirota’s father, he had watched over him closely, but never in a way such as this… 

The spare few clansmen he’d met, back before they had developed the sense to fear him, he supposed their parents had been a bit closer… 

The light tugs on their children’s arms and firm voices which were too hushed for even him to hear only slightly reminiscent of Kisame when he reached the height of his overbearingly strange coddling and brutish habits. Their distant and blurry forms hardly there to be compared, yet remaining stark in his memory all the same.

Still though.

Shizuma supposed things lined up well enough between their vauge forms and the words he'd read earlier this morning for him to be able to believe that it was a clan issue rather than one of Kisame’s own personal ones.

After all, as large of a stretch as it was to believe an entire clan could be so dedicated to such antics. It was even more so one to believe it was a natural instinct of Kisame’s. 

Lightly, Shizuma shook his head at the thought, turning a corner as he followed closely behind the elder. He supposed the origins of the odd behaviour didn’t matter all that much, so long as he was able to properly manage it. 

Besides, it seemed to be causing more blessings than irritations at the moment, so he supposed he shouldn't complain too terribly.

His hands lingered behind him as he kept his eyes on the back of Kisame’s head, his focus only shifting to the rest of the rooms momentarily as they passed through them.  

The empty spaces between the weaponry room and the bathroom seemed far more vast than he recalled, though he supposed that was a bit of an unfair comparison to make.

After all, there hadn’t been much waiting for him the last time he had made the trip from the front of the building.

Shizuma shifted past the taller shinobi and into the bathroom as the door finally came into sight, easily flipping the switch on as he made for the mirror. 

He leaned over the sink, setting the scroll safely aside and looking closely at the ever-clear eyes before him.  

The faint pulse of chakra in his stomach tugged upwards, increasing bit by bit as he tried for what was far from the first time to centre the energy into his face and then eyes. He could feel the slight pull from his gut as he tried to rip from chakra which simply wasn’t there, his body uneager to use up what little it had despite his efforts. 

Really. It was his body; it should do what he wanted, he couldn’t help but glower in agitation as he gave another harsh push forward.

The energy in his body stretching and stretching until it reached his neck and no higher. The stringy pulse of chakra fizzling out with no regard for just how close it was.

A low puff of air escaped Shizuma as he leaned back a bit, his brows pinched together.

It wasn’t fair, not in the least. He had waited so very long to finally have the eyes which so many feared he would one day grow into, and now, as he finally had them, he was utterly unable to so much as see them. 

He supposed that was what he got for pushing himself so far during their fight on the docks, so busy trying to keep his cool that by the time he was finally cornered he had none left to give. His chakra still struggling to replant its roots even now, nearly two weeks later.  

Shizuma leaned back a bit from the mirror, his lips pressed together in a heavy frown even as he felt a hand on the centre of his back. The palm lingering there as Kisame leaned down from above, his eyes ever-steady as he looked into the mirror alongside Shizuma for the eyes which were not there. 

Glancing elsewhere, Shizuma kept his head held high.

He urged the words from his throat, supposing he should say something after all but dragging the man from his work to see eyes which didn’t exist. Yet finding such things easier said than done.

Shizuma forced his mouth open after a long few seconds, only to click it shut as he felt vaguely familiar icy chakra shoot through his back and into his stomach.

He blinked, shifting slightly as he felt that which had been hurling tidal waves of water at his head a mere few days ago mingle so easily with his own, the chakra twisting and swirling in his stomach as he glanced down at his gut. His body relaxing as he was finally freed from the starving itch he had slowly grown accustomed to over the last few days.

“That’s all the chakra you'll be getting from me, so don’t go wasting it.” Kisame mused from above, his hold on the chakra within Shizuma’s body a bizarre feeling as he delivered the warning. “Now. Let’s see these eyes of yours, hm?” 

Kisame propped his head down beside Shizuma, his eyes steady on the mirror before them as the younger once more leaned into it. He could sense the previous strain in his gut loosen as he once more began to channel chakra into his eyes, this time careful as he sent bit by bit upwards.  

“You have my thanks.” he muttered mildly, his words true but far from his focus at the moment. 

He could see the faint flicker of red which entered his eyes as he tried to balance between supplying them with enough chakra and not wanting to somehow cause damage, his vision blurring a bit - just as Itachi had warned him. His nose pinched slightly as he reached up to rub at his eyes, leaning forward further and as he was finally able to focus in on the swirling red eyes before him.  

His pupil was tiny in the centre, surrounded on either side by two tomoe of the same dark colour. They whirled round and round, spinning as he finally allowed just a bit more chakra to surge into them.  

Shizuma watched carefully as they moved, his attention shifting between the newfound splash of red and the rest of his field of vision.  

He could see the texture of his skin…the long broad creases on either side of his nose…the strands of his hair, the slight dip below his lips…each and every detail sharp in a way his vision had never before been.  

Shizuma blinked, allowing his heels to hit the floor as he finally leaned back. After all these years. He finally had the sharingan.  

The eyes that so many dreaded he would one day attain.  

The eyes that he had spent many nights wondering over himself. 

Would they be as astonishing as they had feared? As powerful as he had hoped?

Would they aid him in his efforts to bring about the swift winds of revolution, once the time came - all his previous training finally brought to fruition with this final blessing? 

Shizuma’s face ached mildly from the smile on his face as he finally let the eyes fall closed, his gills fluttering against the hand on his cheek as he considered the matter.

No doubt there would be sore spots to the ordeal, between Buntan’s sure-to-come reluctance and the break it would no doubt cause in the invisible barrier between Kirigakure and the Uchiha Clan’s current head. But so long as he kept it on the down-low until he had the upper hand, it should all be fine.  

Besides. If the Uchiha did somehow take offence to his use of the eyes or perhaps even find issue in Kirigakure’s previous neglect to mention his existence. He was far from opposed to such conflict. It wasn’t as though he was a coward, after all. It would only serve to make the matter all the more interesting as far as he was concerned. 

“…It’s always a bit worrying when you smile like that.” Shizuma felt the light in his heart dim a bit as he cracked an eye open, sending the taller shinobi a mildly displeased glance.

As though he were one to talk, with that eerily constant grin of his. 

“I’m not certain you of all people should be saying such things, Kisame.” Shizuma tittered lightly, allowing his hand to fall from his face and back down the edge of the sink. He leaned back a bit, dangling off it as he looked up at the slowly standing elder with a slightly tilted head.  

“Ah, perhaps so.” Kisame relented after only a brief moment, looking down to him with something unreadable in his eyes - his head tilted in turn to match the younger’s. Not quite saddened by the jab. But certainly not happy with it either. 

…Shizuma, for perhaps the first time in his life, grimaced with guilt as he saw Kisame’s almost static grin tighten a bit in wryness… 

“Though, I suppose it’s a bit more fitting for you.” Shizuma continued in a vague attempt to amend, letting his hands slip off the sink. He tucked them behind his back and turned to lean on the counter, musing, “You’d be a rather disappointing monster of the mist if you weren’t the least bit scary, hm?”  

Shizuma spoke lightly, his head tilted upwards still to keep his gaze steady on the aforementioned monster of a man. 

After all, it wasn’t as though his attitude was doing him many favours as far as the intimidation factor went.

For as badly as Shizuma had wanted to crawl into the dirt and hide that day out on the docks, he was afraid it was a sentiment which hadn’t lasted long. Not with the way the elder shinobi insisted on carrying on these last few days. 

His respect for the man left in an odd balance when faced with the strangely sincere side no one had ever bothered to warn him of.

“Hm. This is rather true.” Kisame mused from above, the corners of his mouth seeming to loosen a bit despite Shizuma's thoughts as he agreed, “Though, I fear we are monsters of quite different sorts.”  

Shizuma blinked lightly as the man moved past him, his hand resting on the shorter’s head only momentarily as he began to make his way out of the room.  

Oh, now what was it with these two and their never-explained riddles? First Itachi and now Kisame.

Shizuma quite preferred it when the man was too busy carrying on about his hardly relevant shark trivia to conceive such things. 

“Pardon?”  

Shizuma snatched the scroll back up from beside the sink and followed behind swiftly, peering around the man’s side to take stock of his amused expression. 

“Kisame?” 

Shizuma reiterated when the other said nothing, his brows pinching a bit.

“Father?” 

He tried in vain, watching as the man’s grin only spread with his continued refusal to acknowledge Shizuma’s question.

Unbreaking, just as Itachi had been. 

Shizuma let himself slow in his pace, his hands lying heavy by his side as he stared at the centre of Kisame’s back with something between upset and focus.  

What was that supposed to mean? 

Did he mean to say Shizuma wasn’t half as scary as he? If so, it was quite an unfair claim to make. Not when they’d yet to see him in full swing, uninjured and amongst those he at least had a fair shot at claiming equal footing to. 

No, he could be plenty scary if he wished to be. If not with his aura or words, with his abilities.

Particularly now that he had these eyes of his. 

If they were half as terrifying on him as they were on Itachi. He could be just as intimidating. He was certain of it.

“Are the eyes all that you wished them to be?” Kisame asked after a long moment of silence, seemingly content to simply ignore Shizuma’s questioning for now.  

The door to the weaponry room was pushed open as they arrived back in place, once by Kisame, and another by Shizuma as they walked. The elder of the two hardly seeming to notice nor mind the slight huff which came from behind. 

“…Yes. I’m quite satisfied with them.” Shizuma nodded, following the other further into the room and wandering around his side to plop on the bench. His neck craned upwards to match eyes with Kisame once more, head tilting as his brows remained pinched slightly in consideration of both the previous slight and matter at hand. “Though, I still can’t claim to know how it came about.”  

Shizuma glanced briefly at the still-rolled scroll, his feet pressing to the ground idly as he muttered, “Itachi failed to mention the awakening requirements in the scroll…perhaps having presumed I would know them, with my awakened eyes…” 

His words venturing, imploring for the elder shinobi to give up any information he might have on the topic.

Kisame had been partners with Itachi for a few years now. So surely, he should know at least a bit in regards to the subject?

Shizuma glanced over to Kisame as the man plopped down right beside him, tittering lightly to himself as the bulkier shinobi only shrugged in response. 

“I suppose you’ll have to ask him, once night falls.”