Archive of Our Own

0: Before

First, there was nothing but Chaos. And then, from the very depths of the emptiness - a spark of light, bringing about Earth and Sky and Sea. 

And Earth was the first creator, she who gifted the world with life. First she gave birth to the titans, and then to the cyclops and the hecatoncheires. Disgusted, the Sky threw her monstrous creations into the depths of Tartarus, a place so deep below the earth that no life could reach it. And, in an act of vengeance, the titans slaughtered their father and from his dead body came the oldest deity; Love. 

Technically, Death is the second-oldest. He was born soon after Love was created, but most forget that, being that Justice managed to stay out of their dear father's stomach. So it is Justice who takes dominion over the heavens, and because Death comes out last he takes the part nobody else wanted; the Underworld. 

Justice takes the name Hashirama and his wife, the name Mito. He has bitter disputes with Love, who chose the name Madara, over what is right and wrong - but they are close friends as well. Madara especially takes a strong liking to the Hearth and Home, named Izuna, and - to the surprise of many - Death himself.

Death chooses the name Shisui. Shisui has curly hair and a smile many would call angelic. This, many think to be a contradiction; death is not meant to be handsome or lovely. Death is no salvation. And they're right, kind of. Shisui is many things but nice or selfless has never been any of them.

For Death's part, he swiftly befriends Harvest, who calls himself Itachi and rarely smiles. Most think that he is what Shisui should have been and vice-versa. They're idiots, Madara tells him, and Shisui agrees. For all that Itachi looks stern and prefers to keep his thoughts to himself, he is much nicer than the rest of them. Hardly a good fit for Death.

Though it seems an unlikely bond - for Harvest, who oversees the bounty of the earth and helps to nurture humans, feeble beings though they are, to enjoy the company of Death who takes away life and harvests nothing but souls - Itachi nonetheless knows the importance of decay. So, their friendship is as natural as that between Love and Home.

Soon come many other deities. The Sun and the Moon, Wisdom and War, the Forge and the Traveller and Festivity. They are younger than Shisui is, than all of his siblings, but age stops mattering after the first century or so. A god lives forever and infinity is impossible to measure; what is the point?

(Despite what many think, War dislikes Death and Shisui isn't very partial to War, either. He's not one for needless killing, nor the carnage that War lays out in his wake. And the backlog of souls is a headache, too.)

Godhood is complicated. There are petty squabbles, there are fights that cause earthquakes or storms. There are worshippers who praise their name and cities built in their honour; there are those who would curse them, who would challenge them, arrogant as they are. There are monsters and heroes. Shisui prefers to stay out of it, content with a calm life and those few who deign to spend time with him. Itachi, too, prefers to avoid such conflicts when necessary and when he isn't attending to humans, or to his fields, or making sure that people do not starve he will visit Shisui in the Underworld, followed by a loyal train of crows. 

He never lets Shisui visit his domain - Shisui has never heard of anyone being permitted to enter Itachi's domain, not even the king of the gods himself. Not even Izuna or Madara or Obito, the god of the Forge and Flame, all of whom are good friends with Itachi and Shisui himself. Not even Mikoto, the Moon, is allowed. It is the first rule every new god learns; never enter Itachi's domain, on pain of swift and unmerciful torment.

Well, Shisui can handle that. It is lonely, sometimes, being in the Underworld, and Itachi's company is always welcome.

0.5: In-Between

The first years of humanity are ever-so pleasant. No stupid fights or wars, just the warm golden hours of peace and calm. Most souls Shisui sees are old and wise and happy to enter Death's realm, to enjoy the afterlife in the Underworld. As such, he has plenty of free time. 

A lot of that free time is spent with Itachi; whether it is exploring forests and mountains and meadows, or sparring (Shisui with his sword, Itachi with his sickle), or listening to Madara talk.

Madara is an interesting deity, Shisui finds; they are old, old enough to have known Shisui's father and mother, old enough to have known the Earth before she fell into slumber and the Sea before he, too, sank to the depths. They have eons of knowledge and centuries of wisdom; they are also flighty and temperamental and deathly powerful. It was Madara who gifted Obito the flame when Obito fell, it was Madara who helped to first kindle Izuna's hearth, it was Madara who helped their mother hide away Hashirama to ensure his safety. Love is the one deity who the rest of the gods would not dare anger. 

Ah, but poor Pandora. Shisui doesn't even blame her; curiosity is such a natural thing and even the gods are prone to folly now and then, so would it be fair to be angered at a mere human for giving into temptation? She opened the box, alas, and out came evils of all sorts. Pestilence. Disease. Famine. Greed and jealousy. Shisui had to make an entirely new part of the Underworld in order to handle those who came down with their souls tainted by these new sins; it had not been an easy job, that was for certain. 

"She should not have done such," Itachi says, frowning. Just as the farmer was disciplined in his toil so too was Itachi, always holding himself to his high standards and rules. "Look at what has been unleashed because of her foolishness."

"Even the Lord Hashirama can't help but give in to the wiles of something pretty now and then, 'tachi," Shisui says, teasingly flicking Itachi's ponytail with fingers crowned in black nails, one accidentally scraping a thin white line over Itachi's skin. "Don't be so hard on her."

Madara just sighs. "You two," they say, ruffling Shisui's hair first and then Itachi's, messing up the delicate crown of golden wheat. Itachi scowls and adjusts it, mending the broken stalks with a twitch of his finger. "Young and judgmental."

"We're hardly young," Itachi scoffs.

"Hey, who're you calling judgmental?" Shisui says. 

"Pandora was a young lass on a string," Madara continues as though they hadn't heard Shisui's or Itachi's complaints. "She was always set up to fail, the poor girl. Yet what is the point of life if it is always so perfect? If there is no evil, can there be good?"

"You're getting philosophical again," Shisui comments.

"Shush," Madara says. "As I was trying to say, she created strife and tragedy. But she has created virtue and kindness, as well." They pluck a dove feather out of their hair, grey-white. "And if you truly wish for someone to blame, blame Hashirama, that sod."

"Your rivalry with our lord never ceases to concern me," Itachi sighs, shaking his head. "Is it because you are Love that you love conflict so?"

A small, secretive smile. Madara tosses the dove feather into the wind and it is carried off, out of sight; Shisui pities whatever poor human it touches. "Perhaps. Perhaps you try to avoid it too much, Itachi."

"What do you mean?"

Another smile. "You know that already."

("What did they mean?" Shisui wonders, later, when the Sun is making his descent and the golden twilight splashes the sky with a lovely camellia pink, swiftly deepening to purple. 

Itachi doesn't look him in the eye. "They are too quick to jump to conclusions," he says. Shisui, sensing that the subject is not one Itachi wishes to confront, just hums and says nothing.)

1: The Start

"Shisui," Itachi says, one evening. "I have a request to make of you."

Shisui lifts his head, brushing a bit of grass out of his hair. A moth flits by, its silken-dark wings like smoke under the moon. He lets it perch on his wrist. "Oh? Another forest fire?"

"What? No. You just caused one three weeks ago."

"Ah, you're right. My memory must be failing me," Shisui laughs. "I'll grant your request if you spend a day with me."

"Six hours."

"Twelve."

"Eight."

"You drive a hard bargain," Shisui sighs. "Eight it is."

He hasn't seen much of Itachi lately. It's understandable; as cities and settlements grow, so does the population of mortals and there are more mouths for Itachi to feed. They are all busier, nowadays. Gone are those years of contentment and hours of enjoying the time passing idly by. All Shisui wants is to see his friend; it isn't too much to ask.

Itachi is silent for a long, long moment. His eyes are unfathomable, dark as the feathers of the crows he favours and equally as opaque. Shisui, as always, wonders what he is thinking about. What thoughts are running in that head of his, what meticulous plan has he crafted this time? 

Itachi, Shisui has noted, is ferrety-quick and whip-smart, always anticipating a few steps ahead. Had he not chosen to be the god of Harvest, he would have made for a fine Wisdom.

He thinks too far ahead, sometimes; there are factors that cannot be foreseen, and to believe that everything can be controlled is to leave blindspots in your guard.

"I have a brother," Itachi says, finally. His hands are busy, clever long fingers weaving together a crown of poppies, twining the stems. Shisui should introduce him to Sleep, sometime. Perhaps they would get along. 

(His usual crown was gone, having been discarded, and his hair is held back with a simple twine of red ribbon. His sickle rested on the ground, the blade wickedly sharp and the handle clearly familiar with Itachi's palm. Was he handsome, beautiful, both?)

"A brother?" Shisui wonders. "Really? Who?"

"Spring," Itachi says. "There is a festival happening in two days or so and I am obliged to attend and give my blessing. During the three days it will take place, I cannot watch over my brother and I would like you to do it in my stead."

Shisui raises a brow. That was... not what he'd expected.

"You're really asking me, the god of Death, to look after the god of Spring?" he wonders. "Maybe a different candidate would be appropriate. Mikoto?"

"Most are busy during this time, except you," Itachi says. True enough. Shisui does not have any festivals and handling the dead is more of an automatic process, by now. He has it down to an art form; all they need is him to take care of exceptional cases and his power to sustain the Underworld. "And I trust you to be good to my brother."

It was likely him, who occupied so much of Itachi's time, Shisui realizes. This mysterious brother, Spring, so cherished to Itachi that he had to be watched over. So cherished that he would ask Shisui to be Spring's minder.

For one, petty second, he considers saying no. Making up some excuse and leaving. But Shisui has rarely ever refused anything if it's asked by Itachi and he doesn't think he'll start now, either.

"Alright," he says. "Where is he?"

"My domain," Itachi says. "I'll take you to meet him tomorrow."

Itachi's domain is a vast expanse of meadow. All sorts of plants grow there, wild and untamed beneath the sunlight. Shisui sees wheat and corn, bountiful rows of gold; he sees barley and rice, he sees raspberry bushes and grape vines and apple trees, glistening ruby fruit hanging off of the boughs. 

It feels oddly empty. All Shisui can hear is the rustle of leaves and branches, the soft crunch of dirt beneath their footsteps, the occasional caw of a bird through the cloudless sky. Itachi guides him through the fields, looking as natural as can be amidst all this life, and leads Shisui to a small glen surrounded by thick vines adorned with golden flowers, impossible to see past.

But he can hear something - or someone - there, and he can feel the life teeming off of the circle of space. This must be Spring.

"Little brother," Itachi calls out, parting the vines with a tap of his sickle's blade. They lift up, allowing entrance. "I'm back."

Suddenly curious, Shisui follows Itachi through. What could Spring look like? So far, Spring was the only deity who was of a season; there were wild winds, North and South and East and West, there were storms and droughts, but not seasons. He doesn't quite know what he's picturing: someone who looks vaguely like Itachi but with a lot more flowers, probably a bunny or a bluebird in the mix as well. Cutesy. Sweet. 

"Brother," Spring says and as he comes into view, as Shisui steps forwards, he finds that - not quite.

Spring has undoubtedly taken the form of a youth. That is expected. But though there are similarities - the dark hair and dark brown eyes, the lithe build - there are many differences. His hair is short and messy, spiky like Madara's and Shisui wonders in the back of his head if it was soft or rough to the touch. His skin is paler. His eyes are rounder, just slightly, and his smile when he looks at Itachi is soft and affectionate, if a little bit hesitant. He's dressed in white, wrapping over his torso and covering his arms and legs, save for a sliver of chest which is left exposed. Not cutesy, and there are no flowers nor bluebirds to be seen on his person, but sweet.

And then he looks at Shisui and all of that changes. His smile fades away, replaced by a flat stare. Dark eyes narrow. Shisui swears he hears the slither of a snake somewhere. 

Not so sweet, either, then.

"Who's he?" Spring demands, a little rudely. Shisui can't help the flicker of amusement. No one but Madara talks to Death in such a brash manner. 

"This is Shisui, Sasuke," Itachi says. His voice is gentle. He's smiling. "He'll watch you while I'm gone."

Spring - Sasuke - presses his lips together and shoots Shisui another flash of a glare, but then when he looks back at Itachi all that is gone in favour of quiet obedience. "Okay. How long will he be here?"

"I'll be here for three days," Shisui says and offers up a grin. It gets nothing but narrowed eyes and slight irritation. 

"That's a while."

"I'll be back before you know it," Itachi promises. "He's a close friend of mine, Sasuke, so I trust that you two will get along."

With the way Sasuke is looking at him, Shisui highly doubts it. But he swallows his thoughts in favour of a smile.

"We'll be fine, 'tachi. Don't you worry."

Itachi nods, though he looks like he's having second thoughts. "Right," he says. "Be safe, Sasuke. Shisui, take care of him."

"I will," Shisui says, and Itachi nods again, pausing for a moment to touch Sasuke's forehead in goodbye before leaving. The vines close back down, enshrining them together. All Shisui can see in the clearing is the sky above and the plants within.

And Sasuke, too, turning away from him and heading for a wild rosebush in the corner. "You can go," he says, voice flat enough to be believably interpreted as neutral but Shisui reads it as annoyed instead. "I know what my brother wants of me and no one's come into his domain in centuries, anyway. I'm perfectly fine on my own for three days."

"No can do, kid," Shisui says. Sasuke bristles, like a hedgehog. Is that - yes, it is, it's a snake, watching him with slit gold eyes. "Your dear brother asked me to watch over you while he's off at his festival and I'm afraid promises I make can't be broken."

"Bullshit," Sasuke says.

"Got it in one, kid," Shisui agrees, sitting down against a tree trunk, "but I'm still not one to break my promises even if I can. So, you're stuck with me for the time being." 

Sasuke turns around. There's another snake, previously disguised within his hair, that has poked its head out. He looks at Shisui like he thinks Shisui is a locust and should be swatted down immediately, barely disguised behind his mask of calm. He's so easy to decipher that it's endearing, almost. A young, stubborn god; it dredges up memories. "I don't need you following my every move."

"Oh, and you're fine with your brother doing it?"

The jab slips out before Shisui can hold it back. Why, even he's not sure. Jealousy? He would think that he's beyond that by now, but humans were created in their image and that comes with the full package, irrational emotions included. Sasuke's reaction is minimal but the snake in his hair hisses, long dark tail coiling about Sasuke's ear. 

To his credit, Sasuke just takes a deep deep breath and turns back to his flowers. He seems determined to ignore Shisui, so Shisui decides to oblige him and picks out violets from the earth, braiding the slender stems together. So maybe he's feeling a little spiteful as to uproot instead of just pick the violets, but they're just wildflowers. New ones grow back as he plucks them, Spring feeding life into the earth.

That's how their first day goes, with Sasuke nurturing his little clearing of space and Shisui weaving together increasingly intricate crowns from the flowers Sasuke grows, watching as the petals wilt and die within moments. Sasuke says nothing after their brief, initial exchange and Shisui decides that he's fine with silence.

Their second day starts off quiet, as well. Shisui is awake before Sasuke is and notes, with some amusement, that he's managed to attract a whole host of animals while asleep. Cats, birds, snakes, and - yes - a rabbit. Most of them are snuggled up as close to him as they can possibly be, or are piled on top of the other animals in order to be close to him. He's barely visible beneath the mass of fur, feathers, and scales.

Shisui plucks a flower. It's a daisy, this time. Sasuke twitches.

Curious, Shisui does it again and Sasuke opens an eye, irritated. "Would you stop picking out the flowers?" he snaps, voice groggy and roughened from sleep. 

"You didn't say anything about it yesterday," Shisui comments, mildly amused, and ties the roots of the daisies together. They dangle, limp, from his hand. 

"Doesn't mean it's not annoying," Sasuke hisses and untangles himself from the animals. His clothes are messy, one sleeve slip-sliding off his shoulder, and he shrugs it back on, smoothing down the white fabric. "If you must pick them at least don't take out their roots. They die if you do that."

"You know I'm the god of Death, right?" Shisui says, swinging the daisies a little in demonstration. They've wilted, already, and the petals are falling. 

"And you're in my domain," Sasuke says. "You wouldn't burn down my brother's crops, so stop killing all my flowers."

Sasuke couldn't really stop him. Even though the area about is full of life, Shisui could strip it all away if he wished. Still, this is Itachi's baby brother and he doesn't want to upset his friend too much. He did promise to play nice.

"Alright," he sighs and lets the flowers decay as they fall, back into the grass. Sasuke looks like Itachi when he scowls, if more childish. There's a slight hint of pink on his cheeks, too, not from embarrassment but out of irritation. He's not quite as menacing as Itachi manages to be. "I suppose I'll just sit here, then, and watch you?"

Sasuke's glare lessens, slightly. "Do whatever. I don't care. Just don't uproot my flowers."

He stands. Little petunias have popped up in his hair, spots of pink and red. A snake slithers up his leg and curls about his waist, like a makeshift belt. A bird sits on his shoulder, chest dyed red among the dark feathers; a robin, it looks like. And then he takes a few steps towards where there's a tree growing and kneels in the grass and starts to tend to it, hands gentle as they handle the sapling.

He's not too far away. Shisui can see his fingers as they smooth over the leaves and they are slim, almost delicate. Not like Itachi's, which are rougher. Spring has soft hands and probably soft palms, too. Perhaps a little calloused, from the gardening - which seemed to be all he did - but not as much. 

"Am I allowed to eat any of the fruit here, or do I just sit around?" he drawls. Sasuke glances towards him. The tree is growing, buds popping out of its boughs. They'll open up and leaves will unfurl, soon. His robe puddles around him. Is it silk or satin? Shisui wonders if he should bother trying to find out. 

"You can, I suppose. Anything I've grown won't be as good as my brother's, though."

Shisui laughs. "Itachi does grow amazing fruit. Have you ever eaten any of his?"

"I don't need to eat and I can grow my own," Sasuke says. "... but, yes. When I was.... a decade or so, maybe? I snuck out and stole a strawberry."

"Just one?"

"It was weird being outside, okay!" Sasuke says, tinting redder. "I grabbed the first thing I saw and went back in. It was very sweet. A bit too sweet. I'm not a fan of sugary stuff."

Shisui stands, reaches up, and plucks a lemon. Its surface is golden and ripe. "Have you ever had one of these?" he says. 

"... no," Sasuke says. "The big fruit trees were here before I was. I mostly just eat the berries." He nods to a patch of raspberries, plump and red glistening between the leaves, the brambles. 

"Well, try one," Shisui says and peels off the skin, strips of yellow rind falling to the grass. He crosses over to Sasuke in a few swift strides and crouches, breaking it apart into half. "It's good, I promise."

"It is?" Sasuke's brows furrow, unknowing, as he dangles the fruit between his thumb and index. "... alright."

He pulls off a segment and takes a bite. And then - "Oh that's sour."

Shisui bursts into laughter at Sasuke's grimace. "That's a lemon, kid! Want to try a lime next?"

"No!" Sasuke scowls, coughing as he swallows. A drop of juice beads at the corner of his lips and he wipes it off with his thumb, licking it off with a flash of pink tongue. "I don't trust you to give me good fruit anymore."

"Oh, come on," Shisui pouts. "I'm your brother's best friend! You don't trust me?"

"You gave me this," Sasuke says, holding the lemon half out like an accusation. "If you want me to eat more fruit that you offer me, then you have to eat it too."

"Fine, fine," Shisui laughs. He takes the rest of the lemon and eats it in a few easy bites. "No big deal. Ever had a peach before?"

"... this better not taste like a lemon," Sasuke warns. 

"It won't, I promise," Shisui says and picks one, taking a bite. The flavour is mostly sweet, but with a slight touch of sourness that evens it out nicely. "See, it's good. Try."

Sasuke eyes him with clear suspicion and the snake in his hair does, too - though considering that it's about the length of Shisui's hand, it really isn't a very big threat - but accepts and, hesitantly, sinks his teeth in, breaking skin and down to the flesh. He chews, slow, and blinks, a beat of eyelashes. They're thick and pretty. 

"Huh. It's actually nice."

"Did you really think I would trick you?"

A flat stare. He has peach juice on his lips and a bit is trickling down to his chin. He should wipe it off. "Yes."

"You wound me."

"Sure I do," Sasuke drawls and takes another bite of the peach. He really should wipe the juice off. He is kind of beautiful, Shisui has to admit; not in the way of Itachi, with his regal air and elegant yet stern features, but instead in a more... pure way. Like snowdrops, fragile blooms in the winter cold. 

And their second day passes in this way, with Sasuke gardening and Shisui occasionally offering new fruit for him to try, languid beneath the sun.

The third day, Sasuke wakes up early. Shisui watches as he stands and gently nudges the rest of the animals away, beneath the bushes. Except for a woodpecker, which sits on his shoulder, and the ever-present snakes.

"What are you doing, kid?"

"Why do you always call me a kid?" Sasuke grumbles.

"You look like one to me," Shisui teases. "Like a little baby bird."

"I'm a god," Sasuke huffs, affronted. "I'm nearly a century and a half."

"Just a century and a half? You are young," Shisui says. No wonder Sasuke knows so little. He's not even two centuries old. "You're not even a baby bird. You're a little chick."

Sasuke shoots him a glare and pointedly turns away. "Anyway. I'm bringing rain."

"Rain?" Shisui says, raising a brow. "Aren't there storms for that? Isn't it our lord's job?"

"Lord Hashirama's job is to summon lightning and thunder. He's not the god of storms," Sasuke says primly. "And as the god of spring, I am also obliged to bring about spring rains."

"Makes sense," Shisui hums. As the aurora crosses the horizon, clouds start to drift in, over the dawn light. They thicken, bit by bit, first translucent and then greying. Rain fills them up, heavy and waiting to burst, and then with a breath starts to fall. "Just rain? Or lightning too?"

"How many thunderstorms do you see during the spring, exactly?" Sasuke says. "I'm not our lord, am I? Just rain." He sits down, beneath the broad leaves of a hazel tree. "This will nourish crops. Mortals will take it as a blessing, likely, to have a rainfall during the last day of their festival."

"Mortals are just as likely to interpret a drizzle as a god being mad at them," Shisui snorts, reaching out to catch a few drops of rain in his palm. "They're fickle, foolish beings."

"Are they?" Sasuke says and he hears it, the tell-tale hint of curiosity. Tell me more, he seems to say. What else do you know?

Well, Shisui can indulge him. 

"Ever heard of a mortal named Tantalus?" he asks.

(Oh, Tantalus, he who wished for divinity. He who would serve even his own child, the poor little bird; he who had so much luxury and wealth yet still wanted more, more, more. Greed so great that Hashirama punished him eternally in the depths of the Underworld, living with water and ripe fruit at his fingertips yet so out of reach.)

Across the clearing, Sasuke shakes his head. He sits draped in dove-white satin, making him appear more delicate than he actually is. His feet are bare; they're not entirely covered by his robe, even though he has them tucked up next to his thigh. "Who was he?"

Shisui leans his head on his palm and smiles. "Let me tell you, then."

He finds himself almost reluctant to leave, on the fourth day. Sasuke, despite the prickly attitude, is pleasant to be with and even his barbs are interesting now and then; what is a rose without its thorns? 

(He has not had company like this in a while.)

Sasuke, for his part, also seems unhappy to see him go. But he says nothing, letting his brother worry over him, occasionally sneaking glances over at Shisui. It's surprisingly cute. 

"Well, I'll see you in a bit, 'tachi," Shisui says as he prepares to leave. "Bye, Sasuke!"

"Wait!"

Shisui, at the edge of the clearing, pauses. So does Itachi. 

"What's wrong, little brother?" Itachi asks. 

Sasuke's jaw tenses for a moment but he nonetheless takes a breath and seems to gather himself. "Can he come back?" he asks Itachi, shoulders squared as though anticipating a fight. A snake slips out of his sleeve, curling the length of its sand-coloured body around his wrist. "I haven't had much company in so long, brother, and... "

Itachi frowns. It doesn't look like he likes the idea. "It's for your safety, Sasuke. You know this."

"I know," Sasuke says. "But you trusted him enough to watch me for three days while you were away, right? What's the difference between that and him visiting now and then?"

Shisui knows the difference. Itachi likes his plans, likes his order and rules. This is a wrench in things, a sudden twist that he doesn't enjoy. 

"... I suppose it might be alright," Itachi says. He trusts Shisui enough to let Shisui be with his little brother. Death is rarely given so much faith. "I must guide Shisui to the exit of my domain, but I will be back soon, Sasuke."

Right. The reason Shisui can't be with Itachi as much is because of Sasuke. It's not Sasuke's fault, Shisui can rationalize, but the more emotional part of him is still a little bitter. 

Sasuke nods and Shisui catches a glimpse of him before he turns away, a swish of white behind the closing vines.

1.5: In-Between

("So, are you really keeping him holed up in your domain for his safety?" Shisui asks one day. 

"It's what's best," Itachi says, stubborn. Set in the fact that he's right, proud as always. And the look in his eyes tells Shisui to drop the issue, so he does.)

He does visit Sasuke, though. There's a glimmer of surprise in Sasuke's eyes as Shisui steps through the vines, and then a slight hint of exasperation.

"You didn't have to decay them," he scolds, as they begin to regrow. 

"You can just grow them back, right?" Shisui says.

"Well, yes, but you can just say you're here and I'll open them," Sasuke scowls. "Try these."

He shoves a basket of blackberries at Shisui, who raises a brow. "Oh? For me?"

"I'm practicing my fruit-growing," Sasuke declares. He looks proud, a little, and indeed - now that Shisui looks closer - there are more berry bushes than usual. "I want to be as good as my brother is. Try one."

Curious, Shisui obliges. The blackberries are sweet and tangy, almost crisp in their flavour. "You grow a lot of berries, I assume?"

Sasuke nods. "I do eat them, and so do a lot of the animals around here." Case in point, a crow busy nibbling away at a plump blueberry. "Good?"

"Very," Shisui says. "Try one. You grew it, you should enjoy the fruits - "

"Seriously?"

" - of your labour," Shisui laughs. 

"I can't believe my brother is friends with you," Sasuke scoffs, accepting the basket back into his hands. Something about it rubs Shisui the wrong way, slightly.

"It's a little hard to believe you and he are related so closely, too."

A pause, as Sasuke is in the middle of reaching into the basket. Dark eyes narrow. "... what does that mean?"

"Nothing," Shisui hums. "Just an observation. Eat one, baby bird."

A glint of defiance, likely a retort bubbling up on Sasuke's tongue. He's touched on something, Shisui realizes, some long-hidden insecurity. But Sasuke just puts a blackberry in his mouth and his glare is poisonous as a foxglove flower, the tint of his cheeks as pink as its petals as he chews.

It's true. Sasuke and Itachi are different, enough so that Shisui wouldn't be surprised if Sasuke was a cousin instead of brother, the similarity in appearance aside. Sasuke is the god of Spring in all its wild beauty while Itachi is more controlled, more level-headed; Sasuke is brash and quick to react, while Itachi buries things ten layers deep; Sasuke is honest in his irritation, his anger, his curiosity and happiness, while Itachi is a mystery on the best of days.

".. I know I'm not like my brother," Sasuke says, eventually. He seems to have cooled off a little. That's another difference; Itachi's temper is a slow-burning ember, rather than a flare of sparks. There's no jealousy; he's stating a fact, a simple matter of life. He looks resigned, almost. "If you want to visit him, I think he's at Olympus right now. He said he had to talk to the Lord Tobirama."

"You're interesting in your own right," Shisui shrugs. That, too, is true; wild, thorny little bird, so prickly and so young. This cage of vines and trees is not meant to keep Sasuke in; it's to keep others out. Except Itachi, and now Shisui too. "Want to know my favourite fruit?"

Curiosity, now, sparking in Sasuke's eyes. Transparent eyes, revealing everything. Sasuke is an open book in every sense of the phrase. "What is it?"

"I like apples," Shisui says. "Call me simple, but they're a favourite fruit of mine. Tell you what, little bird; I'll share with you a story if you grow me some apples from that tree right there."

"Deal," Sasuke says near-immediately, so eager to for knowledge. It is said that curiosity is what overcomes fear, moreso than courage. "About who?"

"Ever heard of Orion?"

He finds himself drawn, over and over again, to Itachi's brother. To this sharp, snappy, curious to the point of being naive, fearless being. That sort of recklessness will get him in trouble one day, Shisui reflects. Should Spring not naturally fear Death? Yet Sasuke is not one to cower or tremble, it appears, and that just makes him all the more interesting.

("You keep calling me a bird," Sasuke says one day, lips curled in slight annoyance. "Why?"

"You remind me of one," Shisui shrugs. "You can't tell me you don't see the resemblance between yourself and one of your robins?"

"Me and - seriously? A robin?"

"Hmm, maybe a canary."

"A canary??")

How Itachi managed to cage Spring, Shisui isn't quite sure. He can see that sparking desire in Sasuke's eyes, to leave. To see more of the world, perhaps see Olympus or the mortal Earth. Yet, ever so loyal to his brother, Sasuke stays. 

("You spend a lot of time with my brother," Itachi comments at one point. 

"I think he's lonely," Shisui shrugs. He knows how that feels. "And he's fun to be around."

"I have been away more often," Itachi sighs. "Thank you for being with him, Shisui."

Shisui smiles, up at the sky. "No problem, 'tachi."

No problem at all.)

Sasuke trusts too much, Shisui finds. He's clever and has good instincts, especially for someone who has been so confined during their entire life, but he's seemingly unaware of Itachi's intentions (and if Shisui is being honest, his own as well). For someone normally kind, Itachi has quite the possessive streak. 

If Sasuke is aware, he just doesn't care - or doesn't think it's harmful, which wouldn't be surprising. There doesn't seem to be much resentment from Sasuke's end, either. Poor bird. 

It becomes routine, soon. To visit Itachi's little brother, to bring something new with him each time; a rare flower even Spring has not seen before, a feather from one of Mito's birds, a piece of pink quartz, but more often than not just a story. Stories which Sasuke drinks up, every time without fail, so starved for knowledge. So eager to learn.

Oh, little bird. Curious, unknowing bird with dark eyes and a fearlessness that would lead him to fly straight into thorns just to see the rose within. Pretty bird, with his ebony-dark hair and equally dark eyes; little bird all wrapped up in white, sweet but not soft, delicate but not breakable. 

Shisui almost can't blame Itachi for trying to hoard Sasuke away.

2: The Descent

It starts a little like this:

"I've never been to a festival," Sasuke sighs one day, a little mournful, like a nightingale. "My brother never lets me go with him."

"No worshippers?" Shisui says, raising a brow. "Not even for Spring?"

"People worship Harvest, not me," Sasuke shrugs. "I help my brother by bringing about spring and its rains, but I don't exactly get worship for that."

"Well, if it helps, I don't have any worship either," Shisui offers. "I honestly don't mind too much. It frees up time that I would otherwise have to spend blessing people. And with what, even? Dying faster?"

Sasuke laughs, bright as a warbler. "Entrance to Elysium?"

"Everyone can pray, not everyone is a kind enough soul for that," Shisui scoffs. "Come on, birdie, you should know I don't give out things for free by now. I'm not that nice."

"You are a right scoundrel sometimes," Sasuke agrees, "but you can be nice on occasions. And you've given me things before for free." He points at a vibrant flower bush in the corner, grown from a seed Shisui had gifted him. 

The feeling in his gut grows another head, like a hydra. 

"Well, you've never been to a festival, but would you like to see Mount Olympus?" Shisui says. 

"Really? You'll take me?" Sasuke says. And then hesitates; "But... my brother... "

"I'll be with you the entire time, there's no need to worry," Shisui reassures. "Besides, it'll only be for a few hours or so. Itachi's away right now. I doubt he'll notice a thing."

He holds out his hand. Sasuke hesitates. Is it fear of his brother? Fear of leaving? What wins out; curiosity, his trust in Shisui, or what has been ingrained into him his entire life?

Slowly, a pale hand slips into Shisui's own and Shisui closes his fingers. Sasuke's hand is soft after all. 

(Oh, trusting little bird.)

"This way," Shisui sing-songs, tugs and Sasuke follows, nudging aside the vines when Shisui requests, following him through Itachi's domain and out finally into Mount Olympus. He looks lost, the snake in his hair letting out a sibilant hiss as Sasuke sidles closer to Shisui. Spring is warm, is unafraid to be so close to Death. 

"It's so big," he breathes, awed, gripping tighter to Shisui's hand and Shisui squeezes back, tangling his fingers with Sasuke's own until only he can separate them, interwoven as they are. "What's that over there?"

"That, is where the Lord Hashirama resides," Shisui says. "Do you know any of the other gods, bluebird?"

"Uh... I know Lord Tobirama rules over the seas," Sasuke says. "And you rule over the Underworld."

"No 'Lord' for me?"

"No," Sasuke says. "Lord Madara, they're the deity of love. Lord... Jiraiya? God of festivity and theatre. And Lady Mito, goddess of marriage and family."

"Mmhm. We also have Obito, god of the forge; there's Mikoto, she's the goddess of the moon and hunt; Minato, he's the god of the sun, music, and healing. There's Tsunade, goddess of wisdom and strategy; there's also Danzo, the god of war, and of course Izuna, the god of the hearth and home. And we all know Itachi, of course."

"That's... a lot. Are there more?"

"Of course!" Shisui laughs. "Minor gods and goddesses, like you, wren. And that's not even counting nymphs or dryads or other spirits who aren't technically gods but are still immortal. Though, as far as I know, you're currently the only god of a season. Special, hm?"

"Wow," Sasuke says. "Do you think I could get to know them, in the future?"

Itachi probably wouldn't allow it. Shisui wonders if he himself would, even, assuming that he had that sort of control over Sasuke. Itachi wouldn't allow that to happen, either, but...

"Shisui?"

"No need to worry 'bout me, robin," Shisui says, shaking off his thoughts momentarily. "Come on. We shouldn't stray too far from Itachi's domain, but we can probably explore a little."

Sasuke brightens, forgetting whatever it was he was wondering about near-immediately. 

(Ah, little bird.)

But it just spirals from there. 

The god of Death can be oh-so lonely, sometimes. The Underworld is not an ugly place - how can it be, when it has all the riches in the world - but the gardens are lifeless. Not even Itachi could sustain life down there, so deep below the earth where the sun does not reach, but perhaps the god of Spring could. 

He enjoys it a little too much, having Sasuke's trust. No, that's not it. He enjoys how blindly Sasuke trusts him, unafraid or just unknowing. The snakes know Shisui better than Sasuke does; they are clever, watching him with wary slit eyes, always curled close to their master. But Sasuke doesn't seem to care, always straying past safety without a backwards glance.  

He's smaller than Itachi is, and smaller than Shisui too. With his fine features and unblemished skin he's like a doll. The urge is always there, in some way, to squeeze and see how long it takes for skin to bruise. He would look good in blue and purple, in the sun-gold that is the colour of a god's blood. Any deity in Olympus would eat him right up. 

Obsession is such an ugly word, but there is nothing more suited for such an ugly thing. Madara, perhaps, would know more - obsession was something inherent to love, and they knew boundless forms of emotion inside out - but possession is inherent to obsession, and this is something that Shisui wants to keep. 

It's quite the cruel cycle. The more he visits Sasuke, the more limbs his desire grows, the more the inhibitions that hold fantasy back from reality blur. Yet at the same time, the more he visits Sasuke the more Shisui becomes aware that Sasuke is one of the few things he cannot have. Oh, but does Shisui want.

What would you look like, defiled? Are you more beautiful for your purity or for your lack thereof, as it slips away? 

(Each time, he is so close, just within Shisui's grasp. And then like water he slips away, the wild beautiful spring, flighty like a butterfly or a bird. But a bird should never be tethered, should never be tied down unless its wings are broken.)

(And each time the more the wish to break those wings grows, if only so that Sasuke couldn't ever fly away again.)

2.5: In-Between

(Tell me a story.

Alright, alright, little bird. Not even a 'please'? I indulge you too much, sometimes.

Indulge - who's the one growing you whatever you want?

Fair, fair! Have you ever heard the story of Actaeon?

No? Who was he?)

(Ah, poor Actaeon; he who saw far and wide, he whose own sight was his downfall. Pride in his great prowess as a hunter led him to inadvertently lay gaze on the goddess of the Moon, who was enraged and turned him to a stag. Poor Actaeon, he who believed his sight could never fail him; he who was right, in the end, and paid his life for it.)

(Scoot a little closer, birdie, I don't bite! And it's raining, you don't want to get caught in your own downpour do you?

... I guess not? Isn't it weird to be sitting so close together?

Aren't I your friend? Don't you trust me?

You convinced me to eat a guava once and you know I don't like sour fruit.

That was so long ago, wren! And haven't I fed you some good fruit?

I forget nothing.

Aww. Well, will a peach buy your forgiveness?

... fine.

That's a sweet bird. Aren't you cold, wearing so little?

A bit, but I'm fine - woah! Did you have to lift me like that??

You don't want to get sick, birdie, it's awful, trust me. I promise I don't bite, it's fine if you want to lean closer.

... you know, for being the god of Death, you're actually pretty warm. Thanks.

Aha! It's no problem, chickadee. None at all.)

(Ah, the things mortals would do for love. Orpheus, he who was so blessed with music, tread deep into the Underworld for a chance to bring back his love, Eurydice. But oh, Eurydice; she called for him to turn back, for him to look at her and the poor mortal listened. And thus they were separated once more, as Death claimed Eurydice's soul, save for in art where their story lives on.)

(Haven't you ever wondered what it's like to fly? I see my birds all the time in the clouds. What do you think it's like, up there?

Hmm... I'm not sure, hummingbird. I've never flown before. Lord Hashirama might know, though. Did you know he once snuck down to Earth by taking the form of a swan?

A swan? 

Yep! It's a big white bird. Very beautiful, very prickly. Like you, birdie, though you're not quite as majestic. I imagine it's exciting, though! Seeing everything from so high up!

...

Aw, your cheeks are pink!

Shut up! ... do you think I could fly?

I'm not very sure, puffin. Aren't you the god of Spring, though? Wouldn't you rather stay grounded?

Probably. I've never seen my brother fly.

Me neither! Do you think he'd take the form of a crow, if he could?

Definitely. They're always with him.

They are! Tough little rascals, they are.

Like you, though you're not as tough.

Hey!)

(Poor Leda. A young girl, naive to the fact that she was just a plaything of the gods. Most mortals seduced by a god were just toys, little breakable dolls. Yet the legacy she left behind would outgrow her; the lovely Helen, the queen Clytemnestra, the twin stars Castor and Pollux. The children of Zeus would always outshine their birth.)

(Ever learned to use a weapon, birdie?

No, I haven't. But I have sparred with my brother before. He gave me this scar, right here.

...

Shisui?

That is... certainly quite the scar.

... it is, I guess. I got it when his sickle blade accidentally slashed open part of my stomach. It was unpleasant, but it was thanks to my blood spilling onto the earth that those vines there were able to grow. The flowers are gold because of that reason.

Wow. Well, would you care for a spar with me?

... are you going to use that sword?

Aha! Only if you want me to, little bird. And if you're sure you can handle it!

I can handle it just fine, thank you very much.

You're very welcome.

... that was horrible. Let's just spar.

Aha! As you wish, starling.)

(And Shisui is right; Sasuke's skin is beautiful in blue and purple, is beautiful overlaid with veins of gold, is beautiful with Shisui's hands over top.)

3: The End

"I want," Sasuke says one day, "to see the Underworld."

Shisui freezes. A thousand images rush into his mind, none of them wholesome. His little songbird, enclosed deep within the earth. Oh, but Shisui would certainly make sure Sasuke had enough space to roam and fly - just not back out, not back up to the surface. 

"Why?" he manages to ask.

Sasuke shrugs. "My brother said he'd been there before," he offers. Quiet, guileless eyes blink up at him, the gesture sweet and oh-so naive. Ah, little bird, how lovely you are in your curiosity, in your foolish courage. "I've seen Olympus and it's beautiful, but what's the Underworld like?"

A starting-to-fade bruise is blue-green on his skin. His wrist is entirely dwarfed by Shisui's hand as he takes it, Sasuke letting him without so much as a hint of resistance, pliant, the edge of his sleeve slipping back to reveal more skin. The bruise had been from one of their spars - Sasuke put up a good fight, swift as a hummingbird and tricky as a snake, but he was ultimately too young and too inexperienced to win. 

"The Underworld's not exactly as... well, lively," Shisui says. Sasuke rolls his eyes at the pun. Fair enough, it wasn't very good. "But I do think it's nice, in its own way. You sure you want to go, sparrow?"

"You and your bird names," Sasuke sighs. "I am. Death is just the second part of life, right? It can't be that bad."

No, the Underworld is not so bad. There is beauty to Shisui's domain. There is Sasuke, too, and Shisui's hands itch.

"I'll take you, then," he agrees, hungry. "Follow me."

Oh, darling canary within a cage. Follow me down into the earth, little bird, curious as you are. Don't look back, nightingale, keep your eyes on me. Watch me forever.

Beneath the surface, Sasuke practically glows. The torches set off the soft, rosy flush of his skin and the white of his garb, satin rippling with every shy step. Shisui leads him deep through the labyrinthine halls of his palace, down corridor after corridor, over floors of marble inlaid with veins of gold and walls of obsidian, pitch black. Deeper and deeper, holding to Sasuke's hand so he can't let go and run.

A gift for you, little bird. Silver, to match with your clothing; this blue pendant goes so nicely with your eyes. These bracelets - are they too tight? Let me loosen them a little. You look oh-so delicate in jewels.

(Can you fly? Can you fly away, weighed down by what I have given you? Nonsense, you must stay.)

"Do you like it?" Shisui says, swinging open the door with a dramatic wave of his hand. A garden sprawls out before them, equal parts stone and plant. Aconite and asphodel grow in thick patches, cypress leaves rustle in the slight breeze. Oh, an owl coos, mournful, flitting by a fountain of tearful pearls inlaid with black diamonds; the water that pours from it is deceptively clear. Oh.

"It's... beautiful," Sasuke breathes and lets go, momentarily, to drift in further. The doors close as Shisui follows, golden chains springing up to tie the knobs together. "What are these flowers?" He touches one and it perks up, rejuvenated by his presence, violet blooms unfurling at his fingertips. Lovely little bird. He'll fit right in with the mourning doves. "I don't think I've ever grown them before."

"They're aconite flowers, or as some call them, wolfsbane," Shisui says. A moth lands on Sasuke's index and he laughs, surprised, bright and joyous like a bell's chiming. Perhaps Spring belongs here, the long-isolated garden starting to regain colour just with him being there. It certainly was much more spacious than his previous cage. "The white ones are asphodel. Those over there are chrysanthemums."

"Wow," Sasuke murmurs. "I didn't expect you to have a garden! There are even animals."

"We're not that dull and dreary, mockingbird," Shisui laughs. "Of course there's a garden." He plucks a pearl up from the earth, dusts off its surface until it shines. "Here, a gift."

"You've already given me so many," Sasuke protests. 

"Nonsense. I'm the god of riches too, birdie. All forms of wealth are at my fingertips, it's barely a fraction of what I can do."

Sasuke's smile is hesitant but he ultimately accepts, rolling the pearl between his fingers. "Where will I put it?"

Shisui steps a little closer under the pretense of touching the pearl, letting more grow from his thumb until Sasuke holds a necklace in his palm. "Wear them. I'll help you put it on."

Gold. Gold would look good, too. Rubies, or sapphires, or diamonds. Gild his bird in gems, in precious metals. 

"These are surprisingly heavy," Sasuke muses. "I thought they'd be lighter."

"Gems are like that," Shisui laughs. "Would you like to come further?"

"I would," Sasuke says. Not an ounce of hesitation as he walks deeper in, following the spiral pathway towards the center. His bare feet tread across paved gold and opals, between hyacinth blossoms and wistful acacia trees. "Your entire palace is huge. I'd probably get lost for days trying to find my way out."

No one has ever gone so far as Sasuke has. There would be no way out, if Shisui wished it that way; you could run hall after hall and the exit would remain elusive, seemingly at the end of the corridor only to reveal itself to be a window instead. He likes his staff enough to not make their life a living nightmare by making it impossible to navigate the palace, but the doors of the garden are locked and nobody but Shisui himself knows the way in. 

"Perks of having an entire new world for my domain," Shisui hums. "You should see Lord Tobirama's and Lord Hashirama's palaces. They're probably even bigger - though I'm happy to say that mine has the most dramatic shadows and torches."

They're at the very middle, now, a little clearing surrounded by fruit trees. Sky blue topaz and milky pale moonstone are arranged in the pattern of a blooming flower, surrounded by emeralds and onyx. Sasuke kneels and touches the precious stones, tracing over the lines of refracted light within their iridescent surfaces. 

"These are beautiful. I've never seen something so pretty which isn't alive before."

"The magic of gemstones," Shisui laughs. "Want one?"

"I can't, I already have too many!" Sasuke says, holding up his hands. The bracelets sing on his wrists, silver and sapphires clinking like bell chimes, thin chains gilding his skin. "How am I going to explain this to my brother? A quartz or a feather is easy, all this is just - excessive, at this point!"

"Fine, fine," Shisui sighs. "No more, I promise."

"Okay, good," Sasuke says, standing in a ripple of white. He turns in place, looking around. "Wow. I wonder how these plants are even able to grow? I mean, there's no sunlight."

"Who knows," Shisui shrugs. "We're gods, linnet. Not much is impossible."

Sasuke touches a cypress branch. Its leaves rustle in the place of birdsong. His gaze is contemplative as he looks from it to Shisui, the feathery swish of his bangs brushing gossamer-light over a pale cheek, eyes dark like onyx but not flat. No, never flat: Sasuke is life itself, the lord of Spring, eternally beautiful, free as the plants and berries he grows. Itachi is the force which tamed the wild golden wheat and domesticated the sheep; Sasuke is that which blesses their leaves with green and their hearts with a drumbeat. 

What a strange thing, this desire. Just as one would want to pick a rare flower or cage an exotic bird, there is something innately satisfying about removing that which makes something beautiful. Which is it for Itachi, Shisui wonders? Which is it for himself?

"I should probably go," Sasuke says, bringing Shisui back to the present. "We've been here a while and I think I want to return to my domain."

Oh, his songbird is leaving? But would he return? 

Maybe that is why Itachi trapped his brother, out of the fear that once Sasuke tasted freedom he would never stop seeking it.

"Alright," Shisui says, easy, relaxed. His smile is angelic. The true monsters are not those which are ugly. "But before you go, try something."

From a bough laden with ripe red fruit, he plucks a pomegranate. Sasuke follows his motions with curiosity, watching as Shisui breaks it into half. Beneath the thick peel lie the seeds, dark crimson like rubies, nestled within their shell.

"What's that?"

"A pomegranate," Shisui says, offers a half with fingers tipped with dark nails. "Ever had one, songbird?"

Sasuke shakes his head as he takes it, guileless. He picks out a seed, glittering between his thumb and index. "No? What does it taste like?"

"A little sweet, a little sour." He pops a handful into his mouth, the juice staining his fingers, his palm, his knuckles. It dries red-violet, like a sunset. "You'll have to spit out the seeds inside, I'm afraid. But they're delicious!"

For a moment, Sasuke pauses. Does he know? Does something inside him know that this is dangerous? Has he heard the stories?

It wouldn't be his fault. He knew nothing. He was never going to be free either way. Little canary singing to the sky; did it even know it could fly?

But his curiosity wins over and Spring obeys, wine-crimson juice spreading like a blush over his lower lip, and Death smiles.