the darkest night around
For the fifth time that evening, Itachi felt the weight of Kakuzu’s glance. He poured his portion of tea, ducking a flailing Tobi. How neither of them was sprayed with jasmine, Itachi would never know.
“Is there a problem, Kakuzu?”
For a solid ten seconds, Kakuzu said nothing, just continued to give Itachi that acidic glance. Then, “your bounty is rising.”
Itachi kept his face even. Interesting. Did the Hokage want him dead? They had made a deal Sasuke’s safety depended on it. He supposed he never did tell the Hokage to let him live. But he had let him go, hadn’t detained him or executed him when he debriefed his murders his mission.
Was it for show? Was it Danzo, wishing to tie up a loose end? What would happen to Sasuke—
“Is that so?” he replied, taking a delicate sip. “Interesting.”
“It’s sizable. Even for a clan killer. Wanted dead or alive.”
For a moment, Madara lost his sheen of madness. Itachi felt more than saw the glance leveraged at him. Something calculating, something…. curious.
It wouldn’t matter. If Danzo or the Hokage decided he was too much of a risk, they would have sent someone else to kill him. Someone like Kakashi, and his former captain was noticeably absent from the hunter nin already sent after him.
On the other side, if they wanted someone outside the village to kill him so he wasn’t brought before the Yamanaka, maybe they believed a bounty killer would do their dirty work. What was curious was the fact that he was wanted in Konoha, dead or alive.
Itachi blinked and let the world sharpen with focus. He looked up from the misshapen mass of his dinner (Kisame's cuisine), eyes glowing red. Kakuzu’s narrowed eyes were finally brought into view. “Was there something you wanted, Kakuzu-san?”
“He’s deciding if it would be worth it to fuckin’ kill you or not,” Hidan said as he strolled into the room. He leaned his scythe against his chair, looking at Itachi will bright, amused eyes. “Looks like he’s done playing babysitter, pipsqueak.”
The Akatsuki didn’t believe his age when he had first joined. It was only with Madara’s insistence that led to his approval and asylum in Akatsuki. Because it was asylum.
Even if his name wasn’t splattered on every single Konohan bingo book, a rising bounty meant there were fewer places to hide, even if he somehow left here. It meant more difficult missions, with a new partner he didn’t trust at his back. What he wouldn’t give for Shisui’s rambling and advice.
There was no Shisui to go back to, no parents either—
Itachi dug his fingers into the meat of his palm. There was no use in rumination. He had done….what he had done. There was no way to turn back. He just had to stay alive long enough for Sasuke.
Just enough for Sasuke.
“That’s enough.”
Itachi crawled out of his head to see Konan. With a delicate flick of her wrist, a group of paper birds carried Hidan’s scythe away. Itachi wondered at their bravery.
“Hey! The fuck are you doing?!”
“No weapons at the table, Hidan, you know this.”
Hidan threw an affronted hand toward Itachi. “Baby serial killer here has his shitty eyes activated, and no one said a fucking thing.”
He felt Konan take him in. What her stare lacked in acidity was more than made up for in its intensity. It was hard to match, even with the Sharingan. Father had had a similar—
Finger digging further. No.
Itachi let Konan’s stare fade out of focus. Hidan humphed.
“Itachi-kun is capable of the missions Akatsuki requires,” Konan said easily. “He has the skills necessary to carry out the Akatsuki’s vision.” And that was that. As Pein’s mouthpiece and right hand, Konan’s word was law. Clan meetings would go the same way. When Yashiro and the rest of the clan’s elders spoke, no one could say anything in opposition. Itachi and Shisui swallowed their bitterness and chanted with the rest of the clan. Chanted until Shisui’s back hit the water, then there was anger, then rage, then…everything. Then nothing.
It was far too late for bitterness. It was far too late for regret. It was far too late for anything.
Anything except Sasuke.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t be too late for Sasuke.
As Itachi readied himself for bed, he stood in front of his mirror, and gave himself five minutes. Just five.
Itachi blinked, brought the world back into Sharingan-sharpened focus.
He thought of Izumi and the way she used to smile after two sticks of dango, hers and his. Shisui’s terrible jokes and the way he would ruffle his hair after long missions. Mother, and the way she would talk about the dragon and the phoenix’s love story, on the rare days he was mission free. Father, his straight face, the rare break in the clouds where Itachi could see his smile. Itachi, my boy—
"Tsukuyomi!”