Year of KakaIta
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“Thank you for listening to me.”
“So this is it.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Let me help you.”
Kakashi insisted, the words a plea for him to listen to whatever reason still remained. Kakashi reached out for him and his eyes widened when the man gripped his shoulders and gave him a little shake. His lips parted, his sharp inhale one of surprise. No one had touched him in years. He had hands that hurt and little else.
Series
- Part 1 of Year of KakaIta
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“I am not having sex with you. You will lie there and suffer for the remaining sixty-three hours, and we will pretend this whole thing was a fever dream. I have witnessed enough in the last nine hours to ruin me for the rest of my life. Now please be quiet, senpai.” Itachi carefully pulled his hand away and sat back in his chair.
Series
- Part 2 of Year of KakaIta
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“You didn’t have to bring me here,” Kakashi sighed, clearly more relaxed without the elements hinting at torture. Black, white, and red dominated the world, but the color scheme didn’t matter to them. He let his hands rest by his sides as they studied one another, both of them unsure where to take their conversation. In tsukuyomi, there was no shy blush, no attempts at avoidance, just them trying to decide where to start. “I’m sorry. About what happened in Sound, I never meant to hurt you. I forced myself on you, and I’m not proud of that,” Kakashi began, looking utterly devastated by memories of their time together. Itachi let the man continue, choosing to see where Kakashi took the conversation without his input. “You deserve a lot more than that. I apologize.”
Series
- Part 3 of Year of KakaIta
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The world wanted them to meet and part, a vicious cycle that left them both dizzy. They had progressed from enemies to allies, from allies to something indescribable, and every meeting was a new introduction to the blurred lines of their unspecified relationship. He went from reporting to a woman in northern Fire to reporting directly to Kakashi, thanks to Jiraiya’s constant movements and the shifting of the man’s spy network. Jiraiya was getting closer to accumulating all of the pieces of the puzzle, but there were only so many pieces left on the proverbial table. Itachi couldn’t always report, at times being spotty at best, but he tried to gather as much information as he could to tip off the right person.
Series
- Part 4 of Year of KakaIta
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He felt as if he were choking on creeping vines wound around his lungs, the tightness in his chest a crushing weight, his bloody coughs staining the white sink red. He was nineteen and locked in the bathroom of his hotel room, where he could paint the porcelain sink with his blood spatter. His grip tight on the edge of the sink, he put most of his weight on it to keep upright because his legs tingled and burned from spreading nerve damage. He needed more and more kotaro to keep functioning, and he wondered if his body would be nothing but saigenzai by the time he finally died. He relied so heavily on his sharingan that he could no longer see without it being active.
Series
- Part 5 of Year of KakaIta
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The intermittent downpours had ruined most of the morning and afternoon, and the evening promised more of the same, but the weather worked for them. They sat in the corner of the bar, their seats close together, bodies angled towards one another. He showed interest in obvious ways without being affectionate. From the other side of the bar, Kisame watched their exchange, likely looking for subtle signs of betrayal. It was a night for a simple glass of red wine and wasted words among them. Their report had been brief, delivered by crow over two days ago, but they still chose to meet. Itachi lived for their blurred lines.
Series
- Part 6 of Year of KakaIta
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“Will you lie to me again?”
He whispered the question in the small space between their lips, pausing just to hear the sweet words, a false confession to soothe him and make him feel truly connected to another human being. Kakashi looked at him with a furrowed brow, though they both knew exactly what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. Kakashi lightly stroked his left cheek, gaze moving from his lips to his eyes. Itachi didn't know how badly he'd needed to hear the words.
Series
- Part 7 of Year of KakaIta
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“Are you meeting him again?”
“I am.”
“He’s more than a contact.”
“I have a man that I love and this green tea. That is all.”
Kisame had a duty to report on his every move, but the man had become inexplicably lazy, an oddity in itself. He’d never anticipated an unraveling of his lifestyle from simple observation alone, but Kisame was known for exceeding expectations. So he waited for Kisame to exclaim that he had been caught, to hint at the fact that his time as a spy had drawn to a close, to attempt to murder him where he sat; instead, Kisame blew on his own tea and took a sip.
Series
- Part 8 of Year of KakaIta