A little more time
“I hate to put the two of you in this position. Please, just buy us more time- as much as you can.”
As they get to their feet after kneeling for quite a long time, Itachi sways on the spot, grabbing Shisui’s wrist to keep himself steady.
His skin is deathly cold, and his face is totally bloodless. Shisui imagines he doesn’t look much better.
“Something wrong?” Koharu asks.
“I’m fine,” Itachi answers, a bald faced lie. He forces himself to bow; Shisui doesn’t follow his lead.
(if he doesn’t keep perfectly rigid he’s worried he might throw up)
Sarutobi looks drained too, rolling the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger to stave off what must be a blistering headache.
“I’ll try to speak with my father,” Itachi says- the longest sentence he’s said since they got here. “I can’t promise he’ll listen, but it might help.”
He’s glad Danzo isn’t here to chime in with why that won’t do any good. He prefers to speak without being interrupted.
There’s a thin sheen of cold sweat across Itachi’s face, his voice thin and hoarse. But he tries so hard to maintain his dignity.
.”I know it’s a lot to ask of you two,” Sarutobi says, casting a pitying look at both boys in front of him. “But please bear with it for just a while longer.”
The pair nod, knowing there’s no other answer to give.
They’re dismissed, and quickly take their leave to get some fresh air and sunshine.
Shisui has no witty remark or comforting word as they make their way to the compound, cutting through a narrow alley to get there.
“Hey Tachi, you okay?”
Itachi has suddenly frozen in his tracks, leaning against a heavy stone wall.
“I can’t-”
He presses a hand against his chest, drawing breath in labored, shallow gasps.
He bows forward, eyes wide in panic as he can’t draw in enough breaths and starts fighting against gut-wrenching coughs.
“Tachi-”
Shisui grabs the younger boy when he collapses, immediately overwhelmed with the heat he radiates. He rubs circles on Itachi’s back, murmuring encouraging nonsense to him while he struggles for air.
He isn’t entirely shocked. Whether it’s from panic or something else, Itachi’s been breaking down over these last weeks, physically and emotionally. He’s been choking it back, but it was only a matter of time before he finally cracked.
Silver lining- knowing that this would happen, he’s had a plan for the eventuality. For when Itachi was bad enough that he couldn’t refuse his efforts to help anymore.
“Here,” he offers, pulling out a water bottle and holding it to Itachi’s lips.
“Come on, drink.” he commands.
Itachi obliges. He’s too out of it to notice how bitter it is.
(the tablets were probably well past their use-by date when Shisui dug them up, but they should still serve their purpose well enough.)
“Come on. We’ll go back to my place and just rest for a bit, ‘kay?”
He carries the younger boy the rest of the way on his back, wondering when the last time he actually slept was.
That soon doesn’t matter however, as the drugged-up water soon has Itachi dead-to-the-world asleep, his breath coming in raspy, rattling bursts that can’t mean anything good.
Just hang on. I’ll figure something out.
His mother is still out, which is nice because he doesn’t think he’d be able to come up with a good enough explanation for Itachi being in this state that didn’t make him seem pathetic.
Pulling all the curtains and flipping all the lights off, Shisui heads to a room and locks them in. Itachi immediately curls up into a tight little ball the second he’s laid out on the bed. Shisui climbs into the bed with him, even though it’s not really big enough for the two of them.
Both of them need some rest. This’ll do for the time being.
It’s been a hot minute since Orochimaru has had time to himself. Seems like there’s always been something going on, pulling him away, keeping him far too busy without a second to pull away and be alone. As a consummate introvert, it’s been driving him utterly mad.
Finally, though, he’s been able to take time away. A cup of tea and something interesting to read will be a welcome change of pace after everything.
(This low-level espionage and hired thug shtick isn’t really suiting him, but he supposes it doesn’t really suit anyone here.)
Where’s Sasori gone? He’s been out for awhile, and while the quiet is welcome, it’s not quite like his partner to wander off alone like this.
He’s probably gleaned all from this text that he can, but he keeps reading just in case he’s missed something.
Another hour or so passes, with no sign of Sasori returning. He thinks he’d said something about finding spare parts, but he might have imagined that.
By now Orochimaru is starting to get just a bit uneasy. Apparently even he gets the itch for good company sometimes.
He won’t be able to attend to Kimimaro again (or the rest of his growing menagerie of misfit youth) for quite some time, either. The perils of needing to constantly move about.
Seems like it’s been all quiet in Konoha as well; a bad sign for sure, since it’s normally been fairly easy to keep up on the latest gossip. He’s ignored it for a while, but the solitude lets it eat at his mind the longer he sits with it.
(No news is never good news in that village.)
He’s more than memorized the hand seals now- he could probably do them in his sleep.
He doesn’t see anything or get an answer for a moment or two. Wondering whether he’s being ignored, he cocks his head at the gold-eyed snake in his lap curiously.
“Whaddaya want, ratbreath? It’s not really a good time.”
It’s not Itachi, but rather his older companion Shisui. It’s a little hard to make out his features in the darkness, but there’s no mistaking that crop of wild, curly hair. Even if he's only seen him properly once or twice before.
He’s got a bundle of blankets gathered in his arms, clutched close to his chest. The bundle breaks out into a hoarse cough, the entire thing heaving from the force of it. Shisui does his best to hold it steady, going white at the horrible hacking sounds that just won’t stop.
“Hey, hey, easy, you’re okay-”
After what feels like forever, the coughing finally stops. Dark as the room is, Orochimaru still thinks he can see blood on the boy’s teeth.
From the heap of blankets, Itachi pokes his head out blearily, eyes wandering around without really seeing anything. Then, he leans against Shisui’s shoulder and falls asleep again, apparently drugged well past lucidity.
“He doesn’t seem well.”
“Yeah no shit; he hasn’t been well in weeks. He just can’t fake that he is at the moment.”
“What’s happened?”
“Why do you wanna know? Short on gossip at the terrorist organization?”
Shisui still clearly doesn’t trust him one whit. But that’s alright; he’s dealt with far less cooperative people.
“I’m not trying to gossip. I’m trying to help.”
“Yeah? What for?”
“Because about nine years ago I had a little boy come up to me with the most pitiful look I’d ever seen, asking me what the point of living was. I didn’t have an answer for him and I feel guilty about it. Does that satisfy you?”
Shisui doesn’t have a witty comeback for that.
“Now tell me what’s going on. I don’t bite.”
(both of them are well aware of the irony of that statement, considering his wickedly sharp teeth.)
The older boy’s eyes dart around the dark room and back at the snake on the bed distrustfully.
“...It’s getting bad.”
“What’s getting bad?”
“The clan n’ the village,” Shisui answers, idly petting Itachi’s sweat-damp hair. “I’m sure ‘Tachi’s told you before. Nobody’s listening to anybody. Something’s gotta give way soon and I don’t like where I think this is going.”
“Is that so?”
“‘Tachi’s been worrying himself sick over it. We can’t let anyone know, so he’s been hiding it, but I just can’t let him kill himself over this. I just hope he can forgive me.”
“I’d suppose that depends on what you did.”
“Forged a lotta paperwork. Everyone thinks he’s off on a mission so they won’t come looking for him."
Itachi shifts around in his blankets, muttering something half coherent. He tries to lift his head, but doesn’t seem to have the energy.
“Doesn’t seem like that’s all you did.”
Sheepishly bowing his head, Shisui knows he can’t dodge the unspoken question.
“...We had some stuff left from when my dad was sick. Before he uh- well. I just gave him some so he could get some sleep.”
Orochimaru raises an eyebrow.
“...okay. Snuck him some. I’ll apologize to him later so save the lecture.”
“It isn’t my job to lecture you.”
Even with that, Shisui looks ashamed of himself.
“I just- we can’t look weak. Especially him. If anyone finds out they’ll eat him alive- the clan’s already been bickering over whether he’s a good enough heir, and I know Danzo’s just waiting for him to crack. I had to, or he’d force himself to keep going until he collapsed and made everything worse.”
Orochimaru hums, figuring that sounds about right to him.
“It’s a good thing you’re there to look after him, then.”
“Well he’s not gonna look after himself. Someone has to.”
He sounds angry. Tired. His entire body sags downward like he’s been carrying a tremendous burden, his young face bearing a grim expression that one so young has no business wearing.
His guard dissolves in a heavy sigh. His eyes glow a dull scarlet in the dark, reflecting his frustration.
“We don’t know what to do. I feel like we’re being set up to crash and burn.”
There’s a sound somewhere outside Orochimaru’s door, setting his nerves on edge. But he tries to keep his focus.
“What do you mean by that?” he pries, trying to coax out more about what’s happening.
Laying Itachi across his lap to give his arms a break, Shisui rubs the back of his neck and sighs.
“There’s some people higher up who want the clan dead. All of us. Sandaime told me n’ Itachi to try and buy time to sort it out, but it feels like everything they do just makes the clan angrier. I feel like we’re getting played.”
(Orochimaru doesn’t have to ask who higher up. He has a good idea already.)
“You’re sure of that?”
“Already had Danzo ask me if I’d do it if it came down to that.”
Orochimaru shuts his book and pushes it aside.
“Would you?”
"No."
Shisui pets Itachi’s hair gingerly, like he’s worried the younger boy might break.
“I wouldn’t. He might, though.”
There’s a long, painful pause.
“You’re sure?”
“They’ve been meeting with him more lately. Alone. He won’t tell me what they’re telling him but I know it’s not anything good.”
Not good. That's an understatement.
“I’m worried I won’t be able to get them outta his head.”
Orochimaru stands up. He absentmindedly plays with his hair while he thinks.
“You could run away.”
“We could. But we’d probably have to leave Sasuke behind, and he’s never gonna be okay with that.”
Shisui buries his head in his hands and groans.
“Feels like we’re trapped.”
“Hm.”
The gears in Orochimaru’s head whir, thinking through myriad hypotheticals.
Akatsuki’s leader seems to like Itachi well enough. If he pleas the boy’s case well enough, maybe it wouldn’t have to come down to a slaughter on either side.
Or maybe it’d just turn it into a slaughter on both.
Tricky business, really.
And really, Orochimaru doesn’t care too much about it one way or the other. The Uchiha may well manage to take Konoha down if granted the opportunity. It would be interesting for sure, and normally he wouldn’t want to interfere.
Nothing is normal anymore, however.
“...buy just a little more time,” he answers, after an uncomfortably long pause. “I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.”
The boy opens his mouth, but the words are lost on his breath. He looks so exhausted, a drowning child clinging to anything that might keep him afloat.
“We don’t have much else to lose,” he mutters. “But don’t think I trust you.”
“You don’t have to trust me. Just take care of Itachi-kun, and try to keep it together for a while longer.”
As if answering him, Itachi breaks into another horrific coughing fit. Shisui nods, steadying the younger boy and giving Orochimaru a look that plainly says go the fuck away.
Obliging, Orochimaru runs a hand through his hair and wonders just what the hell his life is coming to.
Any other time, he’d probably just get some popcorn and sit back to watch Konoha implode from its own arrogance. As long as he got a good seat, what did that really matter, after all? It’d save him a bit of trouble down the road.
“You’re plotting something.”
Sasori has gotten perceptive like that, catching whatever subtle cues his partner gives off. He doesn’t even have to look up from his latest project, intent on threading each hair back through its scalp with beyond surgical precision.
“Well, out with it then. What are you up to?”
Orochimaru rolls his eyes, continuing to write.
Well, it can’t hurt too much to tell him, can it.
“Do you suppose our leader would be too cranky if I brought in a couple Uchiha?”
“Suppose it depends on why you wanted to bring them in. We’re not exactly a charity organization, y’know.”
“It’s not charity. I just think it would be interesting to watch Konoha implode if I absconded with a few of their most talented ninja.”
(that’s not a total lie, really. A part of him is highly amused at the thought of how incensed Danzo might be if he goes through with it.)
“Leader-sama likes having a direct Konoha contact though. He might not be keen on giving it up.”
True. But still.
“A contact won’t do much good if he’s dead. Which seems to be the direction this is going.”
“Hm.”
Sasori turns his new puppet’s head from one side to the other, sorting out what spots need more hair.
“I wonder if we have room for two new recruits,” he ponders. “Seems like he’s dead set on keeping nine of us. Think he’d make an exception?”
“Maybe not.”
“Why not just keep him in that collection of yours? You seem to have quite a few, what’s a couple more?”
Another option, sure. Maybe. Kimimaro is turning into such a jealous child though, so that may be a difficult adjustment. He already looks like he’s ready to murder the other children when they get so much as a kind word.
He might just have to learn to live with the jealousy, he supposes.
If he decides to go through with this, he’ll want to pull Hakuto and Amai out too. Maybe Anko too, if they can talk her into it.
Pull out the people he cares about, and watch the dumpster fire from a safe distance away.
Good plan. Here’s hoping he can pull that off.