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Kisame didn't mean to turn his partner's younger brother into a little kid. How was he to know the combination of their jutsu would have such a bizarre effect? The brat attacked him first—he was only defending himself!
This is the story he'll stick to when Itachi demands an explanation.
The brat's lightning attack fried him good. His hair and clothes are still smoking, the air smelling of burnt fish. Kisame steps forward, blinking at the absurd sight in front of him, and wonders if that Chidori gave him brain damage.
Just a few minutes ago, there was a surly teenager standing in front of him—red eyes and cold expression identical to his older brother. Now there's a terrified child, six years old at most, staring up at him and drowning in way-too-big clothes.
The teenager and the child bear an uncanny likeness to one another.
"Well, shit," Kisame says.
Itachi's gonna kill me for this one.
The kid—what was his name? Kisame can't remember—stumbles backward, nearly tripping over the fabric pooled around him. He's afraid, wide black eyes set in a paper-white face.
Kisame supposes he isn't the most comforting sight: large and bulking, with sharp rows of teeth. A headband declaring him a rogue ninja, and a gigantic sword propped against his shoulder.
And if the miniature brat doesn't remember him at all... Kisame can understand his terror.
"Hey, kid," Kisame says. "Do you know who I am?"
Mini-Brat jumps half a foot in the air at his voice. He shakes his head frantically. "N-No. How did I get here?"
"An excellent question." Kisame starts to walk closer, and the kid immediately starts scrambling back. He sets down his sword and raises his hands. "Whoa, hey. I'm not going to hurt you."
The six-year-old (five-year-old?) presses his lips together. "You're a r-rogue ninja. I don't trust you."
Kisame sighs. Fucking children. Why couldn't they just go where strangers took them without being so damn untrusting? Kisame doesn't have the time or temperament to deal with a skittish child.
Kisame looks down at him, crossing his arms. "Here's the deal. You can stay here by yourself and die if you really want to. Or you can come with me and let me take you to your brother."
Kisame worries for a moment that mention of Itachi might be met with rage—but the kid's head snaps up and his eyes flood with relief. "Itachi? You know him? He's here?"
So this is definitely before the massacre then, if Itachi's little brother is responding to his name like that. Good—Kisame doesn't want to deal with an angry five-year-old (six-year-old?) out for blood.
"Yep. We're traveling together." He holds out a hand. "Come on. I'll bring you to him."
The child hesitates. Then, he takes Kisame's hand and they begin walking.
"You're smoking," the young boy tells him, staring curiously at the wisps of smoke rising off him. "Did you know?"
Kisame scowls at the reminder of the powerful lightning blast the teenager sent his way before losing ten years. "Yeah. I know."
"What," Itachi says, "did you do."
It's not even a question. Cold eyes stare at him from a cold expression—the same expression the child next to him had worn, when he'd been two feet taller.
"It's not my fault," Kisame says immediately. "I was the victim. The scent of burning fish you smell? That's me, because your brother fucking fried me—"
"Hey!" the five-year-old says. "I did not! I don't even know you!"
"Kisame," Itachi says, his gaze not so much as flickering down. "What. Did. You. Do."
Kisame swallows, glancing down at the miniature lifeform next to him. A tiny hand is twisted tightly in Kisame's Akatsuki cloak, and the little kid is staring up at Itachi with wide dark eyes. No doubt this twenty-year-old with the scratch through his hitai-ate wasn't who he was imagining when Kisame told him he'd take him to his brother.
"I don't know what happened," Kisame says. "I swear. I ran into him—just by coincidence, I think. He didn't seem to even know we were here. But when he saw me, he figured you had to be close by. We attacked each other at the same time, and then... this."
Kisame gestures toward the kid. Itachi's expression is unreadable.
His dark eyes go back to his little brother, expression unchanging. The boy quakes, seeming unused to being on the receiving end of such coldness. Kisame knows next to nothing about Itachi pre-massacre, but the five-year-old's immense relief at hearing his older brother's name seemed to suggest they had a good relationship.
Somehow. Though Kisame can't really imagine Itachi ever having a good relationship with anyone, much less the person Kisame witnessed him beat and torture two years ago.
"Itachi?" the young boy whispers, looking to his older brother for some sense of assurance, of safety.
Poor kid. He has no idea his brother systematically slaughtered his entire clan. Kisame almost feels sorry for him.
Something flickers in Itachi's eyes. If Kisame wasn't already extremely certain of his hypothesis that his partner is heartless, he might have thought it was emotion.
Itachi's gaze returns to him. "What were you thinking? Why did you even engage him?"
Kisame scowls. "He engaged me. I was defending myself."
Itachi's jaw clenches. "He's a child, Kisame."
"Stunning observation. I didn't realize."
Itachi's jaw clenches harder. He's usually so difficult to read, but right now his anger is transparent. "How did this happen?"
Kisame rolls his eyes. "Are you half-deaf as well as half-blind? I just told you, I don't know."
"Well, you're the one who did this. What did you even hit him with?"
"Nothing! Just a simple water jutsu!"
"You expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth!"
"You turned my brother into a kid."
"Once again, stellar observation—"
Their argument is interrupted by a quiet sob. "Nii-san."
Itachi freezes at the word, like a startled deer. He looks down, as if he momentarily forgot the child's presence and is only now remembering.
There are tears in the kid's eyes that he's trying to hold back. He's biting through his bottom lip.
Kisame watches, waiting for his partner's reaction. He remembers two years ago, Itachi beating his brother into the ground and calling him weak. What will he do, faced with this shaking child? Kisame doesn't have much in the way of morals, but he almost feels tempted to shield the kid.
Itachi sinks down to his knees, and it's like an instant transformation. Kisame stares, dumfounded.
His entire body softens, sharp angles and hard edges smoothing out. The ever-present ice in his eyes thaws, replaced by a soft warmth. A mask seems to fall away—a mask Kisame never even realized he was wearing until it dropped.
Itachi places his hands on his brother's shaking shoulders, not a hint of the cruelty he displayed two years ago.
"Sasuke," he says—right, that's his name—"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
The child stares at him. "You're not—you can't be Itachi. You're too... old."
Kisame is unable to stop his snort. Itachi ignores him.
"I am Itachi." He reaches out to poke the boy in his forehead with two fingers. "I promise."
The gesture must mean something to him, because Sasuke's eyes widen, staring at his brother as he touches the spot that was just jabbed. There's shock, at first, but then relief.
Hesitantly, Sasuke releases the grip he has on Kisame's cloak to step forward. His eyes roam Itachi's face, catching on the scratched headband.
"Nii-san... I don't understand. What's going on?"
Itachi's mouth tightens. "I know you're confused. But you don't have to be afraid. What's the last thing you remember?"
Sasuke frowns, eyes squinting and eyebrows scrunching up. "I don't know. Everything... everything is fuzzy. I don't remember..."
This realization causes the young child to grow quite distressed again, eyes wet and breathing speeding up. He's on the verge of hyperventilanting. Itachi acts quickly, moving closer and squeezing his shoulders. He rubs his hands up and down Sasuke's arms.
"Shh... it's okay. You're okay. It's alright if you don't remember. Just breathe. Try to calm down."
"Nii-san, what's happening?"
Itachi sighs. "Sasuke... this isn't going to make much sense. It doesn't to me, either. But you aren't actually..." He frowns, looking at him closely. "How old are you right now? Six?"
"Five," Sasuke corrects, looking offended.
"You're not actually five. You're fifteen. You got in a fight, and somehow it reverted you to... this age."
Itachi makes a slight face as he speaks, clearly knowing how ridiculous the explanation sounds. Sasuke blinks, then frowns down at himself, taking in the large clothes hanging off of him.
"I'm... fifteen?"
"You're supposed to be, yes."
"And that's why you're older?"
"Yes."
"Fifteen..." Sasuke mumbles. He shakes his head. "No, that isn't—I'm not. I'm not!"
Itachi winces slightly. "You don't believe me. That's fair. But can you trust me, at least?"
Sasuke bites his lip. He looks deeply into his brother's face, seemingly looking for something. Whatever it is, he must find it, because finally he nods.
"Yes. I trust you."
"Good. Whatever this is, I'm going to fix it."
Sasuke stares at him fearfully. "What if you can't?"
Itachi brushes the hair out of the boy's eyes. "I will. It's going to be okay, otouto. I'm going to take care of you, alright?"
Sasuke sniffles, his eyes wet. He steps forward, into the circle of his brother's arms. Itachi shushes him gently, stroking the back of his head.
Kisame boggles at the scene. What the fuck?
Itachi makes the decision that they'll settle down for the night so that they can figure out what to do. There's a village nearby; it's only early evening, and it should only take a couple hours to reach it.
"We could just make camp here," Kisame says.
Itachi raises an eyebrow. "Really? You're turning down the chance to sleep in a real bed?"
Kisame huffs. "No. But we've been walking all day already. My feet are killing me."
"It looks like it might rain. Besides, I don't want Sasuke to have to sleep on the ground."
Kisame stares at him incredulously. Itachi pretends he doesn't notice, even though Kisame knows there's no way he doesn't. He's acting like this entire situation is normal—like the hand that is tenderly wiping his little brother's teàrs isn't the same one that once wrapped around his neck.
Seriously. What the fuck?
Kisame has dozens of questions. He struggles to hold them behind his teeth. Itachi is fixing Sasuke's clothes, attempting to turn them into something still wearable. He uses the white shirt as a cloak, and spends a few minutes trying to use the purple rope to secure the clothing.
It's no use. Itachi ends up discarding the clothes and shrugging off his own cloak. He wraps it tightly around his brother.
"Here. Wear this for now. We'll get you some new clothes once we reach the village."
The child clutches the cloak like something precious. It's much too big for his tiny frame, but it covers him up and will keep him warm.
"Village?" he asks. "Konoha?"
Itachi shakes his head. "No. Not Konoha. We're near Kusagakure right now. You know where that is, right?"
Sasuke's brow furrows. "Um... isn't that in the country between the Land of Fire and the Land of Earth?"
"Yes, exactly." Itachi smiles, pulling lightly on the end of his brother's hair. "Good job. Someone's been paying attention in class."
Sasuke blushes. The praise seems to make him stand with more confidence. "So we're going to Kusa, then?"
"No. There's a smaller village that's closer. We'll find an inn there to stay at while we figure this out."
In reality, Kusa is actually closer. Kisame knows the real reason they aren't going there. A hidden village populated by shinobi—if the two of them aren't recognized by their pictures in the Bingo Book, then they will be by their cloaks. But in a small town made up of civilians, they'll be able to go unnoticed.
The three of them start walking. Sasuke clutches tightly to his older brother's hand, sticking as close to him as he can manage without the two of them tripping over each other.
"What about our mission?" Kisame asks. "Leader-sama expects us back."
"Don't worry about that for now. We still have time."
"And when we don't? If it takes too long to figure out how to turn the kid back?"
"Then you can do the mission yourself. Leave the explanations to me."
The five-year-old looks between them curiously, but seems too nervous to ask what they're talking about. He shifts even closer to Itachi, practically on top of his feet.
"Sasuke," Itachi says chidingly, as Sasuke trips over his foot. "We need to walk."
Sasuke backs up a bit. "Sorry."
They walk for what feels like at least an hour. Kisame isn't sure, his internal clock sucks. But the tiny brat begins to slow down, growing weary, which slows Itachi down as well since he's still clutching his hand.
"Hey," Kisame snaps. "Mini-Itachi! Move your fucking feet."
Itachi narrows his eyes and jabs him painfully in the ribs.
"Ow! What?"
"Watch your language."
"Seriously?"
Sasuke glowers up at him from Itachi's side. It's the same glower his fifteen-year-old version had directed toward him, only on him it was actually a bit intimidating. On this tiny child, it's mostly just adorable.
"My name is Sasuke," he says. "And we've been walking for a long time. My feet hurt."
Kisame hefts his sword up as it begins to slip from his shoulder. "Welcome to the club, brat. I've been walking nearly all day. You don't see me complaining."
"You've been complaining all day," Itachi says.
"I have not!"
Itachi looks like he's fighting the urge to roll his eyes. But because he's Itachi Uchiha, he doesn't do it.
He stops walking. Crouching down on the ground, he tells his brother, "Here. Let me carry you."
Sasuke's eyes light up. Without any words, he wraps his arms around his brother's neck from behind. Itachi lifts him from the joint of his knees, settling him on his back. The action is easy and familiar, as if it's been done dozens of times before.
Sasuke rests his chin on Itachi's shoulder. "What about you? Aren't you tired, too?"
"I'm fine. You hardly weigh anything."
"Thanks, Nii-san."
Kisame tries not to stare. It's very difficult.
He wonders, briefly, if that lightning blast Sasuke aimed at him really did cause some sort of brain damage. Clearly he's having some sort of wacked hallucination—or he's been dropped in some sort of alternate universe. It's the only thing that explains what he's seeing—proof that the heart in Itachi's chest isn't actually cold and dead.
Kisame remembers the brutal beatdown from two years ago. That Itachi—the Itachi he's known for nearly seven years now—doesn't compute with the one walking next to him.
They remove their headbands when they finally reach the village. This is a civillian town, no shinobi to recognize them from their photos in the Bingo Book, but walking the streets wearing the mark of a missing-nin on their foreheads is just asking for trouble.
A frown pulls at Sasuke's mouth. "Why do you have those, anyway?˝ he asks, watching his brother pocket his.
"I'll tell you later," Itachi says.
The five-year-old's eyes are troubled. He drops his chin back to Itachi's shoulder.
But even without the headbands, suspicious eyes follow them as they walk down the streets. It can't be helped—Kisame's distinctive appearance, paired with his sword, just naturally scream danger to anyone who sees him. Luckily, this is combated by the wholesome sight of the two next to him—the adorable child being given a piggyback ride by his big brother.
If only they knew, Kisame thinks, that he's actually the man who slaughtered the poor kid's family.
If only Sasuke knew. He wouldn't hug his brother so tightly then.
Itachi asks for directions to an inn. They're pointed toward the nearest one. They walk inside, up to the middle-aged woman manning the front desk.
"We'd like a room for the night," Itachi says.
The woman looks extremely weary, eying Kisame and his giant sword with apprehension. But her expression softens when she spots the child clinging to Itachi's neck.
"Of course." She smiles at Sasuke, then asks, "Your son?"
Sasuke makes a disturbed face. "What? No!"
"Brother," Itachi says.
"Oh." The woman blushes in embarrassment. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"It's fine."
Kisame grins. "I know. He looks older than twenty, doesn't he?"
Itachi glares, tripping him with his foot as they turn around.
"I don't think you look that old, Nii-san," Sasuke says. His voice is unbelievably earnest, as if he believes Itachi was actually hurt by the assumption.
Kisame raises an eyebrow. "Weren't you the one who said he looked old just a couple hours ago?"
The boy huffs. "I said that he was too old to be my brother. Not that he looked old."
"...Right."
"Stay here," Itachi tells his brother once they get settled in a room, setting him down on one of the two beds. "I'm going to go buy you some clothes that fit, okay?"
Sasuke doesn't seem to like this plan, judging by the way his eyes immediately widen in alarm. His hands shoot out, clinging tightly to Itachi's arm. "No! Don't leave!"
"It will only take me half an hour at most. But you need clothes—"
"Then let me come with you!"
Itachi's jaw clenches. Kisame wonders if this is the moment he'll finally snap—the façade of loving older brother cracking, falling away. He imagines Itachi taking the kid's arm and snapping it, like he did two years ago.
Instead, he kneels down in front of Sasuke, placing comforting hands on his shoulders.
"I'll be right back," Itachi says. "Kisame will stay with you. I promise he won't hurt you."
Sasuke casts him a furtive glance. "I don't trust him. Nii-san, everything is really confusing and scary."
Itachi leans forward, giving his second hug in less than three hours. "I know, otouto. But we're going to fix this, okay? Just let me go get you some clothes."
The boy sighs against his brother's chest. "Okay."
Itachi is gone, which leaves Kisame alone with the kid. The two of them stare at each other, not saying anything for a long stretch of time.
"What's with the headbands?" Sasuke asks, breaking the silence.
The Kiri-nin blinks, looking toward him. "Huh?"
"Your hitai-ate. It has a scratch through it. Are you a missing-nin?"
Ah, shit, Kisame thinks. Figures this damn brat would ask him about that the moment his brother was gone.
Kisame considers his options. He could always lie, or tell the kid to mind his own business. But Kisame isn't ashamed of who he is or anything he's done. He's proud of his fearsome reputation and the dark deeds written in blood on his hands. Anything other than the truth is insulting.
"Yes, I'm a missing-nin. I betrayed my village and killed my comrades."
Sasuke's breath catches. "Why?"
Kisame shrugs. "No reason, really. That's just the way life works. People kill other people. There's not really a deep meaning to it. Who knows, maybe I'll kill you next."
Terror passes through the boy's dark eyes—so similar yet so different from his brother's. He hides it quickly, meeting Kisame's eyes and tilting his head up in a show of fake bravado.
"You won't hurt me," he says.
"Oh really? And why is that?"
"Because Nii-san would kill you."
Kisame wants to call bullshit on that—he's seen Itachi drop dozens of people without blinking, not a hint of care in his eyes. He slaughtered his own clan, his own parents, at only thirteen. Why would he care one bit about some weak, pathetic brat?
Except he does. For some reason.
He left his little brother alive that night. He left him alive two years ago, too. It would've been so easy for him to kill him, but he didn't.
"You're probably right," Kisame admits. "Still, your brother isn't any different than me, you know. He's a traitor and a murderer, too."
The kid's eyes flash angrily. "Shut up! He is not!"
Kisame rolls his eyes. "His headband was slashed too, remember? I know you noticed. I saw you staring at it."
"No. Itachi wouldn't betray Konoha—"
Kisame has to fight back the urge to laugh. He finds the words exceedingly ironic, coming from someone who has also betrayed Konoha and become a rogue ninja.
Kisame won't lie. Watching the boy process the words, he almost finds himself feeling a twinge of... sympathy? for him. Still, it's only the truth. And doesn't he have a right to know it, anyway? Kisame is doing the brat a favor. Truly, his altruism should be admired. He's saving a naïve child from being hopelessly manipulated!
"But he did," Kisame says. "That cloak you're wearing? It's the uniform of the Akatsuki. We're a criminal organization. Itachi joined us at thirteen after he slaughtered a whole bunch of people—"
Sasuke shakes his head, his face alarmingly pale. "No. Nii-san—Nii-san isn't like that. He wouldn't do that—"
Kisame laughs. "Kid, I hate to break it to you. But your brother's got more blood on his hands than an entire village of—"
Coldness cuts through the air—a sudden presence that makes the words in Kisame's mouth dry up. Killing intent, paralyzing him.
"Kisame," Itachi says from the doorway, murder in his eyes. "Get out."
Kisame swallows. "Itachi—"
"Out."
Kisame leaves, standing up from the bed and stumbling from the room before he could possibly end up caught in a Tsukuyomi. Or being devoured by black flames. Only when he's completely down the hall and a flight of stairs, does the oppressive feeling of Itachi's chakra lift. He can breathe again.
Oops, Kisame thinks. He doesn't think he's ever seen his partner that angry.
(He doesn't think he's ever seen his partner angry at all. Aggravated, annoyed, but never truly furious.)
He should probably keep his distance until he cools down.
When he returns fifteen minutes later, Itachi and Sasuke are still talking. He can just make out their voices through the door.
"—which is why I have to act that way. If anyone suspects anything, then the entire mission is blown. I have to keep my cover."
"A mission?"
"A top secret one—from the Hokage himself. In fact, I could get in a lot of trouble for telling you. But I know I can trust you. I can trust you, right?"
"Yes, of course! I promise, I won't tell anyone."
"I knew I could count on you. Now here—go change into the clothes I bought, okay?"
Kisame opens the door, just in time to see Sasuke disappear into the bathroom with a bag in hand. Itachi is sitting on one of the beds.
"Convincing story," Kisame says, re-entering the room once he's sure the kid won't overhear him. "You almost had me believing you."
Something unreadable passes through Itachi's dark eyes. "Tell my brother anything like that again," he says, "and you're going to wake up on fire. Understand?"
Kisame huffs. "He asked a question. I just answered it with the truth."
Itachi's glare is enough to make him feel cold. He closes his mouth quickly, averting his gaze from Itachi's before he can run the risk of being caught in it.
"What is it with you and him?" he asks. "Why do you care so much, huh? He doesn't seem like anything special to me—pretty pathetic, actually."
Itachi scowls. "Watch your tongue," he says, like he hasn't said worse about the kid—to the kid's face. "And mind your business."
And that's the end of that conversation.
Sasuke emerges from the bathroom wearing the clothes Itachi bought him. He's still wearing Itachi's Akatsuki cloak though, like some sort of security blanket.
"Nii-san, I want to go back to my time," he says, face-planting on the bed. It's an amusing sight.
Itachi walks over. "Sasuke, you didn't time-travel, your age has been regressed. There's no going back, you're fifteen."
Sasuke lifts his face from the bed. "Well, I don't remember that, do I?" He sighs, looking nearly as distraught as earlier. "I miss you."
Itachi frowns. "I'm right here."
"But you're different. I want my brother back."
Itachi's gaze drops. "It's getting late. You should go to sleep."
Sasuke pushes himself up so he's sitting. He stares down at the comforter, picking at the threads. "Are you sure we can't go home?" he asks—seemingly referring to a previous conversation they had without Kisame present. "I don't know anything here. I don't like it."
"I told you, it's too dangerous."
"I want to go home. I miss Mother."
"Only Mother?" Itachi asks with a small frown.
Sasuke shrugs. "Father would just say I'm being stupid. He'd tell me to grow up."
Itachi's face pinches. "Sasuke, I know Father was—is strict. But he cares about you."
The boy doesn't seem to notice his brother's slip, crossing his arms. "No he doesn't."
Itachi frowns, but drops the subject. "Come on," he says. "Go to sleep, okay? We'll figure all of this out in the morning."
Sasuke gives him a wary look. "And you're going to stay with me?"
"Of course. I'm not leaving you."
"You always leave. You're never there when I wake up."
An unreadable expression flits across Itachi's face. His mouth tightens slightly. "I'll stay this time. I promise."
Sasuke hesitates. He moves closer, laying down. His head settles in Itachi's lap. "If you're lying, I'll punch you."
Itachi smiles. "I'll let you."
Sasuke stays there, curling up in his brother's lap like a cat. Kisame feels strangely invisible as he sits on the opposite bed—a voyeur to a moment not meant for him. The affection in Itachi's eyes feels like glimpsing a secret.
The five-year-old falls asleep, his breathing slowly evening out. Itachi's head snaps up, and it's like barriers have snapped back up behind his eyes. The coldness returns.
"You will never speak of any of this—to anyone. Understand?"
Kisame doesn't need to look at him to know he's deadly serious. The tone of his voice is enough. "I understand."
Itachi doesn't make threats idly. Kisame has never been on the receiving end of his ocular powers—nor does he have any desire to be.
Itachi turns his gaze toward Sasuke. Some of the coldness thaws. The fondness from before returns.
Kisame still doesn't fully believe he's seeing it correctly. Itachi, showing care for someone—the same someone he attacked so brutally before.
And Sasuke—this version of Sasuke—seems to adore him. He looks at Itachi as if he personally hung the entire night sky.
Kisame can't fathom it. And yet...
And yet, Kisame remembers their encounter with Sasuke Uchiha two years ago. That small little genin, so filled with rage that it'd left him completely blind. The memory has always stuck with Kisame, because of the way Itachi fought. How personal it had been—so unlike any of the other fights Kisame has witnessed his partner engage in.
For shinobi, there's a certain intimacy involved in exchanging blows. This is something Itachi has always refused to partake in. When he battles, he does it with his eyes and with his weapons. He's merciless and brutal, but he's also impersonal—efficient, quick, detached. Kisame has never seen him fight with his fists—not until that day in Konoha.
Regardless of the indifference in his eyes, none of that fight was impersonal. His decision to beat the boy with his fists that day—to get in so close instead of keeping his distance—gave away his true feelings more than any expression on his face ever could have.
Because Itachi doesn't touch people. Not ever.
Of course, Kisame never expected this. He knew Itachi wasn't as disinterested or apathetic toward his younger brother as he pretended, could see that the boy meant something to him. But he never suspected that this was what was hidden beneath the façade of indifference—a deep caring and love that goes so far beyond what he thought his heartless partner capable of.
When Itachi looks at Sasuke, there are galaxies in his eyes. And Kisame knows, suddenly, that if it meant keeping him safe, Itachi would kill the entire world. Would kill entire universes.
It's terrifying.
Kisame watches Itachi stare down at his little brother, purple nails combing softly through the boy's hair, and he tries to understand what makes this child so different. What was so different about Sasuke Uchiha, that Itachi allowed him to live when everyone else died? What was it that stayed his hand?
What is it about him that makes Itachi feel something?
"Don't try to understand," Itachi says, easily reading the direction of his thoughts. "You can't. Not someone like you."
Kisame stares at him. "Someone like me? We're the same sort of people, aren't we?"
Itachi's lips quirk slightly, though there's nothing humorous to it. His gaze doesn't move from his brother.
"I told you when we met. You don't understand me at all."
Kisame wakes up the next morning to fighting. Sasuke—once again fifteen and full of rage—is making a good effort to kill his brother.
He's still wearing Itachi's Akatsuki cloak—perhaps he hasn't even realized he's wearing it. His original clothes are back, seemingly manifested out of nowhere. His eyes are blood-red, full of fury, blue lightning crackling at his fingertips.
The lightning strike lands in the wall, barely missing Itachi's head. Sasuke doesn't miss a beat, pivoting and striking out again.
What the hell happened? Kisame wonders, eyes locked on the battling brothers as he pushes himself up from the bed. Did whatever happened to the brat just... wear off? It was temporary?
Sasuke lunges forward with a kunai. Itachi slaps it out of his hand. In a blur too quick for Kisame to follow, he somehow manages to disable Sasuke's arm—there's a sharp crack, and Sasuke is being spun around, his back pressed against his brother's chest. Itachi's arm tightens around his throat.
It only takes a moment for the lack of oxygen to cause Sasuke to pass out. Kisame is surprised, honestly. Compared to the beatdown two years ago, this was... tame. Merciful.
Mercy. Not a term Kisame ever thought he'd use in conjunction with Itachi Uchiha.
Itachi picks the unconscious teenager up, struggling a bit beneath the weight. Gently, carefully, he lays Sasuke down on the bed.
Kisame isn't sure why the care in the action surprises him—the softness in his partner's eyes. He supposes he made the assumption that whatever tenderness Itachi had displayed yesterday had been specifically for the five-year-old Sasuke—that it would turn back to indifference and cruelty when the current Sasuke returned. This gentle, caring version of his partner disappearing with the figment of the past.
But it's still there, and Itachi looks at his fifteen-year-old brother the same way he looked at the child version.
(Like he would slaughter entire universes.)
Itachi lingers there for a moment, seemingly unable to tear his eyes from his little brother's face. Finally, he walks away from the bed.
"Come on," he says. "We're leaving."
That's it? Kisame wants to ask. You're just leaving him here? You're not going to explain any of this to me?
Instead he says, "You left him with your cloak."
"I'll get a new one."
Life moves on as normal. Itachi makes it clear that they are never to speak of his brother, and the incident is never brought up again.
Over a year later, Kisame sees Sasuke Uchiha again. He cuts through the air with his sword, stopping the boy's teammates from following after him.
"Only Sasuke goes beyond this point," he says. "Itachi's orders."
They put up a fuss, the bunch of brats that they are. That Suigetsu kid is eager to fight him. Sasuke silences them easily, telling them it's fine. He'll be going in alone. They all try to protest—the red-haired girl seems particularly worried—but eventually they obey.
"Trust me," Sasuke says.
Apparently they do.
Kisame barely knows Sasuke Uchiha—not this one, built and molded from the broken glass of that small child he used to be. But he's familiar enough with his anger—the eyes that looked at Itachi with the hatred of a thousand burning suns.
That hatred isn't on his face now, despite the awaited battle that is about to occur. It isn't in his voice, either. The teenager in front of him is full of determination, an iron will reflected in his eyes. But there's no fury, and something about this doesn't feel right.
Kisame knows Itachi's plan. He knows his partner doesn't plan on making it out of this fight alive. But looking at Sasuke Uchiha now... Kisame can't help feeling like Itachi miscalculated somewhere, and he doesn't even understand why.
Sasuke goes forward to meet his brother. Kisame stays to babysit the other three brats.
He and Suigetsu have it out for a bit. The kid is fun to mess with, and he's nearly impossible to hit which makes the challenge of trying even more satisfying. But time moves forward, and nothing happens. The four of them are just waiting—waiting for a victor to emerge.
But no one comes. Not a bloodied Sasuke, exhausted but victorious. Not Zetsu, rising out of the ground and declaring Itachi dead. Not Madara.
And slowly, Kisame feels himself growing slightly... concerned.
"Stay here," he tells the three teenagers, after it's been over two hours. Surely the fight isn't taking this long? "If I find out that any of you have moved, I'll cut you up into bite-sized pieces."
Suigetsu flares up. "Yeah right! I'd like to see you try it!"
The large, orange-haired boy puts a hand on his shoulder. "Suigetsu. Don't."
Kisame gives them one last look. "Stay," he repeats.
When he reaches the old Uchiha hideout where Itachi has chosen to hold this final confrontation, he stops in the doorway, staring into the room. He doesn't find anything like he was expecting. There are no weapons strewn around the room, no blood or scorch marks or any other signs of a fight. There's no clanging blades, and the two brothers aren't locked in a battle.
Instead, both of them are sitting on the stone floor in the center of the room. They're facing each other, talking quietly. Sasuke's eyes are rimmed with red. He's been crying. Itachi's shoulders are slumped, his face lined with weariness. They both look emotionally drained.
"Kisame," Itachi says, sensing his presence immediately. Sasuke startles slightly, turning to look at him.
"What is this?" Kisame asks. "No fighting?"
"I never came here to fight my brother," Sasuke says. "I came here to make him explain—and then decide if I still wanted to fight him."
Kisame frowns, not understanding one bit of what's happening. "Right. I take it you've come to a decision?"
Itachi turns his head to look at him. "We're going to kill Madara Uchiha," he says—casually, as if he's suggesting they take a stroll. "Want to help?"
Kisame stares at the two of them for a long moment. He hefts up Samehada, his lips stretching into a shark-like grin.
"Sure. Sounds like fun."