Chapter Text
"Shisui."
"I'll fucking kill him. I swear. I'll—"
"Shisui, you need to stop. This isn't helping," Genma says.
Shisui whirls on him. "And you! How many times have you stood there and lied through your teeth telling everyone that Itachi's just fine? This is killing him. And what have you done about it?"
"Panther. That's enough." Genma pushes away from the kitchen counter and jerks a chair back from the round wooden table. "Sit. Now."
Hearing his former ANBU title and that tone of command is like being doused with ice water. Shisui freezes momentarily, staring into calm, unwavering amber eyes. Genma offers no compromise, no accusations, no reassurances, nothing but the order he has already spoken. Twice now, and Shisui gets the sense that's unusual for him. Very slowly, Shisui crosses the room and takes his seat.
Genma plucks a black-labeled bottle off the counter and pulls out a chair for himself. It's rotgut shouchuu, the worst of the worst, but Genma takes a long pull straight from the bottle before setting it next to Shisui's hand with an authoritative clink.
A tense moment passes, then Shisui takes a cautious sip and lets the bitter, foul liquor burn its way down his throat. At Genma's judgmental look, he says, "I used to drink this stuff after Kosaka. I know it's fucking lethal."
Genma's expression softens ever so slightly. He may not have fought in that particular battle during the Third War, but he'd obviously heard the stories. "You would have been what, nine? Ten?"
"Nine."
Genma takes another drink, but this one's smaller, more measured. "That's a bitch."
Shisui snorts despite himself. "Did 'Tachi ever tell you he was there?"
Genma stills. He does an admirable job of keeping his hand steady as he puts the bottle back down, but the color drains out of his face. "He never mentioned it."
"Fugaku-sama made him walk through the battlefield the next day, showed him all that death and destruction right up close." Shisui leans forward and rests his head in his hands. "He was four."
Genma silently nudges the bottle back across the table.
Shisui takes another slow sip. He can't let himself get truly drunk, tempting as it may be to blunt the edges of the universe tonight. Itachi was going to need him. The minutes tick by in silence until Shisui sighs. "I'm sorry."
"I know." Genma's voice is warm, kind. Comforting, after the awful things Shisui had said to him. Shisui doesn't know how Genma can do that. Doesn't know why Genma would.
"I... I should go. I'll send a crow if we...if he needs you."
Genma lays a heavy hand on Shisui's shoulder and pushes him back down into his chair. "Sit. Stay. Fuck, it's like dealing with one of Hatake's ninken."
"Really, I..."
Genma shakes his head firmly. "House rules: you drink my booze, you're stuck with my cooking too. I'm going to fry up some yakisoba."
Shisui wonders if Genma can feel the fine tremors in Shisui's shoulder, the rush of heat radiating from his face as grateful tears try to fight their way free. Hell, as a medic and a sensor, he can probably read Shisui like a picture book. Shisui settles back into place with a murmured, "Thanks."