Ties that Bind

Tsunade growls like an ill-tempered cat, cursing the walk and the sunlight and her hangover and everything else as they make their way onward.

(Honestly, with how much she must have had to drink to get that drunk with her alcohol tolerance, getting away with just a hangover is a small miracle in itself.)

Sasuke is on the verge of tears from worry; Naruto takes his hand and gives it a squeeze to try to steady his nerves, reassuring him the entire way that everything is going to be okay; his chipper voice is the only one to fill the long way home.

(The boy is starting to grow on Orochimaru, though he doesn’t want to admit that even to himself.)

They descend into the labyrinth that’s been dubbed Otogakure, the temperature dropping a good ten degrees as they make their way down.

“So this is where you’ve been all this time?” Tsunade asks, unable to bear the silence anymore. She hugs her arms close to herself to keep warm, long painted nails digging into her flesh from anxiety.

“Sort of,” he answers. “It’s a little complicated.”

“It’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon, right?"

“I don’t feel like this is really the time.”

“Is it ever gonna be ‘the time’?” Tsunade asks, with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. Shizune draws closer to her on instinct, putting a wary arm on her to steady her nerves.

Orochimaru doesn’t have a good answer, so he clams up and walks ahead.

Normally she would pry, but there’s plenty else to be doing so she lets it go for now.

“It’s really quiet,” Jiraiya remarks, glancing around warily. “Where’d your little shitheads go?”

“Oh, they’re around here somewhere,” Orochimaru assures him. “It’s a big area, so they tend to wander. Sometimes I don't see them for a day or so, but they always turn up eventually.”

He certainly doesn’t seem all that concerned. Maybe that’s weird, but if he’s not worried Jiraiya won’t worry either.

“Alright show me to this sick kid already,” Tsunade demands, already growing impatient.

Horrible, wet, hacking coughs echo off the cold stone walls, making them shiver with disgust. It gives Jiraiya a vague feeling of nausea, the sound enough to make his stomach churn.

“Sounds like that’s him?” 

“That would be him, yeah.”

Tsunade wrinkles her nose

“You’re getting back in bed right now-”

“But where’s Sasuke-”

“That’s not important! Lie the fuck down.”

“Sounds like he’s awake at least,” Jiraiya remarks.

(Of course the first thing he’d be worried about would be his brother. It’s almost painfully predictable at this point.)

Orochimaru shakes his head in disbelief. Sasuke darts down the hall, with Naruto hot on his heels.

There’s maybe a five second lull in the horrid coughing, a great gasp for air, and then it resumes again.

“He sounds awful.”

“We told you he’s not doing well.”

Despite being so cranky and hungover, her former teammates watch her switch into medic mode, her eyes getting sharp and her expression getting serious.

“Show me.”

Orochimaru leads her along to the medical bay, where a frightened Sasuke clings to his brother and a beyond frustrated Kabuto tries to separate them so he can force the older boy to lie back down.

(Poor thing looks dreadful. Though at least he’s at the point where he isn’t changing color from hypoxia anymore. Even if his coughing is absolutely horrid.)

Unceremoniously, Tsunade grabs Sasuke by the back of his shirt, lifting him up despite his protests and setting him down behind her.

“Give us space.” she orders, in a tone that even he can’t argue with. “If he’s got something contagious I don’t want you getting it.”

“If he were going to catch it he would’ve caught it by now,” Kabuto tells her, beyond frustrated at yet another new arrival. 

“Whatever just keep him outta the way will ya? Go keep ‘em entertained for a bit.”

Kabuto looks offended at being shoved out of his own job so unceremoniously. He glares daggers at her even as he does as he’s told and ushers everyone else out.

Tsunade furiously mutters to herself for a few moments as she assesses the situation, checking Itachi’s temperature and turning his head around at a few awkward angles. 

“How long were you walking around sick for?” she asks, finally addressing the boy directly.

“Uh-”

Itachi yelps when she yanks his shirt up without warning to listen to his breathing and poke along his spine in a way that probably isn’t supposed to hurt, but hurts like hell anyway.

He doesn’t say anything about it, but she makes a small annoyed sound that tells him that she can tell.

“-If I’m being honest, pretty much my entire life? This particular time, I’m not sure.” 

“Great, you’re one of those types.”

Orochimaru comes back in, though he still gives the woman her space.

“How many times are you going to wind up in this situation, Itachi-kun?” he asks, half-joking, half-serious.

“...I’m sorry,” Itachi mumbles, turning his head away in embarrassment. 

Orochimaru shakes his head in exasperation, and Tsunade finally seems to realize he’s there.

“You got stuff to do a blood draw with?”

“Of course- in that cabinet over there.”

“Neat. So kid, are you on any sort of medication already or what?”

“Kabuto-san’s been giving me antibiotics since Orochimaru-sama left-”

“-Not that kind. I mean like to actually try to manage any of this.”

Itachi shakes his head.

“Never really been on any, I don’t think. Mostly I just got told there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Well that’s fucking stupid. Here-”

Tsunade stuffs the stuff needed for the blood draw at Orochimaru and turns her back.

“You do that.”

“Wh-”

Orochimaru stops himself, realizing how stupid the question is.

“Get a couple vials, I wanna run a lotta tests.”

Tsunade drums her fingers against her arm as she says this, jiggling her leg and refusing to look over and face the prospect of blood.

So she never got over that.

After all these years, some things really never change.

(It probably makes him a bad person that the familiarity comforts him a bit.)

Perhaps predictably, Itachi seems no stranger to this procedure. He offers his arm out without protest, watching without flinching through the whole process. 

“You done?” 

“Yep, he’s all yours again.”

Itachi glances between the two of them, brow knit and head tilted like a curious puppy.

“If she’s supposed to be a medic how come she’s scared to look at blood?” he asks, in that blunt sort of way only someone like Itachi can.

Tsunade lights up in anger, even though the question is perfectly innocent.

“Mind your own business or I’ll snap you in half,” she warns  him, getting the boy to fall silent immediately. He shrinks in on himself and turns his head away from her, heeding her warning.

His breathing is still rough, with a horrible wet sound accompanying it that never means anything good. His entire body shakes with coughs that come from deep in his chest, forceful enough that for a split second they wonder if his lungs might come up with them.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Uh, thirteen.”

“Anyone else in your family sick like this?”

Itachi glances around the room while he catches his breath, as if scanning his memories.

“Um- one of my uncles. And I think my great-grandfather on my mom’s side? I can’t really remember anyone else.”

“Well at least it’s not just you. That makes it a little less fucked.”

Itachi manages a feeble attempt at a smile while she takes a pulse and mutters something that,  judging by her expression, doesn’t sound good.

“So how long have you had that arrhythmia for?”

“Had what now?” 

“Arrhythmia. Means your heart’s beating weird.”

Itachi squints, then frowns.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it's not working right, either.”

He sounds so defeated. Frustrated at his traitorous body.

“...do you think we can fix it?” he asks, wary as if he doesn’t dare to hope.

“It’s way too early for me to tell.”

Itachi nods, a little frustrated, but understanding.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever kid,” Tsunade grumbles, pulling at Itachi’s limbs and mumbling about how inflamed all his joints are.

Itachi winces when Tsunade pushes his swollen knee just a little too far, suppressing a whimper.

“How long have your joints been this fucked up for?” the woman asks, frowning. Her voice is less harsh now, more concerned than anything.

“About as long as I can remember, I guess.”

“How badly does it hurt?”

“Uh- a lot, I guess. But I’m used to it by now.”

“That’s ridiculous. Keep your ass here, I’ll be right back.”

It isn’t like I could go anywhere.

Itachi looks over at Orochimaru, a little confused as Tsunade goes off rummaging through the medication in the cabinets. 

“I wish you would have said you were feeling ill earlier,” Orochimaru tells him, with a bewildered shake of his head.

“I didn’t think I was that bad,” Itachi says, in his own defense. “I thought I just needed to sleep it off and I would be fine.”

How pitiful. How miserable must he feel all the time, that he didn’t realize he’d become this ill?

“Here..”

Tsunade shoves a cup of water and a few tablets into Itachi’s hands without asking first.

“Huh-”

“Take them.”

Itachi squirms uncomfortably from intimidation.

“What are they?” he asks in a small voice, a little afraid of her.

“Painkillers, dumbass.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need them.”

The boy tries to hand them back, but Tsunade isn’t having any of it.

“I’m not about to let you sit around in pain when you’re already sick, it isn’t good for you.”

Orochimaru would chime in, but she seems to have the situation well under control.

“It’s really not all that bad,” Itachi tries to say, his voice growing more quiet and meek the more annoyed Tsunade gets with him.

“Do you think you’re supposed to just let yourself be in pain when you literally have the option right in front of your face to not be in pain?”

“Huh?” 

Tsunade runs a hand through the fringe of her hair, blowing an annoyed huff of air out of her nose in a way that reminds Itachi of an agitated horse.

“There’s no honor in hurting for no reason, kid. Just take the damn pills.”

Itachi’s eyes dart from the pills to the woman a few times. Then, finally, he relents and swallows the medication.

“See, was that so hard?”

She sounds almost playful now, and even puts a hand on his head. 

That hand is rough, worn out, and calloused, but it’s warm. Like his mother’s hand. He leans into it on reflex, like an affection-starved cat.

Whatever he wants to say, it’s lost in another coughing fit nearly hard enough to make him vomit.

“Lay down. We’ll be back for you later.”

The kid doesn’t argue with her anymore. He lays down, trying to find a comfortable position with the tubes up his nose. 

The adults duck out to give him some privacy, and Orochimaru leads her to the lab he’s spent months meticulously building up into his dream workspace.

“So what sorts of tests do you want to run on-”

“-Don’t show it to me,” Tsunade snaps, nearly slapping the vials of blood out of his hand. 

Orochimaru frowns, and represses the urge to roll his eyes.

“Still?” he asks. 

“Go ahead and laugh,” she snaps back at him.

“I’m not going to laugh.”

He ties his hair back and scrubs his hands again, making sure to keep the vials of blood well out of Tsunade’s field of view.

“So- about the tests-”

“Just run all of them if you can. So far it seems like his everything is fucked and we need to find out just how fucked.”

Fair enough.

“You don’t happen to have anything like a CT scanner or anything? I don’t wanna be doing any exploratory surgery on him, especially in this state.”

“Yes, but it’s not in working order right now. Give me a few hours and I think I can have that up and running again.”

“Cool. Once we’re done here, get that figured out.”

An awkward silence falls between them for a few minutes, with only the sounds of shifting lab equipment to keep them company.

Both of them have a lot they want to say with each other. But neither of them wants to be the first to speak.

Eventually, after far too long, Tsunade breaks it.

“Question.”

“Yeah?”

She drums her fingers against the stainless steel tabletop, sharp fingernails making a loud, relentless clickclickclick against the metal. 

Her discomfort is clear. 

“If this turns out to be something that’s gonna kill him- if it’s something I can’t fix- is the kid gonna want to know?”

It feels like an odd question at first. But it makes sense that she wouldn’t want to be the one to give a child the news he’s going to die.

“Maybe not. But I did promise him I wouldn’t lie to him, so if it comes to that he’ll need to be told. Don’t worry about that, though- if it comes to that, I’ll talk to him.”

“Noted.”

It still feels so weird between them. It’ll probably feel weird for a while. They know eventually they’ll have to address the multiple elephants standing in the room with them, but for now they’ll allow the distraction of a more immediate problem to keep them occupied.

The longer they wait, the worse it’s going to be when they finally sit down to talk, but at the moment they would rather die than talk about emotions. So they consider that a necessary tradeoff.