Work Text:
The old door leading to the office creaked as Itachi carefully opened it. Kakuzu hadn’t been with them for weeks and there was no reason for Itachi to be worried about him showing up. Still, there could be traps and his time as a shinobi had taught him to always stay sharp. The office was completely dark, devoid of windows, and the air was dry from the thick layers of dust. Paint chipped off the wall as he hit the lightswitch to bring some light into the tiny room. Fluorescent lights flickered to life and showed just how decrepitated the office had become. Stacks of tomes and piles of old scrolls lined the walls, towering over the tiny desk shoved into the corner of the northwestern wall. Messy signs and numbers denoted the order of the piles, dating them back years and years. Itachi stepped into the room, careful not to trample any of the loose paper scattered on the floor. He maneuvered over to the desk and pulled out the rickety chair to sit down and begin his work.
The first scroll he had picked from the pile was covered in grey dust that created a big cloud when he blew on it. The seal had dried out long ago and it cracked right down the middle as he opened it. Rolled out on the table, it was filled with dark symbols – columns, filled with numbers tightly packed side by side. Itachi had some trouble reading the numbers, and even further trouble trying to read what they were supposedly attached to. He chalked it up to either his declining eyesight or a sloppy day of writing from Kakuzu. The scroll made a muted shuffling sound as he rolled it back up and replaced it with another from the same pile. Same procedure as the previous scroll: clear the dust off it, crack the dried-out seal, and attempt to read what was written. No luck. He repeated this procedure for five further scrolls before rubbing his temples with a sigh. There was no jutsu affecting the scrolls to jumble the writing, it was just plain ink on smooth paper. He was no stranger to bad or complicated handwriting.and had intercepted and cracked countless coded messages, but this was something different. This was the worst case of doctor’s handwriting he had ever seen, and it would be a challenge to read even a single column.
Always wanting to test his limits, Itachi was not one to back down from a challenge. At first, he tried using the sharingan to find some small crack in the handwriting. He knew it was futile before he even started. There was no-one to copy, and his genjutsu wouldn’t do anything to ink. Itachi steeled himself and pulled out a small leather-bound pocketbook and a worn pencil from the inside of his coat. The book was warm from being near his chest and provided a nice contrast to the chilly office. He opened the book on the table with a soft thump and began to methodically copy the scribbles from the scroll. The pencil made a scratching sound as it carved its way through the paper, leaving graphite stains in its wake. As he wrote, he paid meticulous attention to the way his hand moved. Down to press the pencil against the paper, sliding down to draw the starting line, shifting side to side, round and round, until the symbol had been copied. Repeat for the rest of the column. When the first column was finished, he was still none the wiser. He continued the copying, writing down the same column over and over again until he had filled several pages and knew the pencil strokes by heart. Still nothing.
His wrist was beginning to strain, so he put the pencil down beside the book and stood up to stretch his legs. He pushed the chair in under the table with a frustrated force, snatched the book up and walked out of the room without care for what he might trample underfoot. The hallway was completely dark and silent, filled only by burnt-out sconces. The air felt heavy as he moved towards the old pantry. They hadn’t used this hideout in a long time, but he hoped there were at least some tea leaves left in a cupboard.
Before long, he arrived and began opening cupboard after cupboard, empty pot after empty pot. Eventually, he found a small ceramic jar nestled deep within the top cupboard. It contained a small collection of dried tea leaves with an earthy scent. It would barely be enough for a single cup, but it would do. He poured the water he had brought with him into an old dry cup and brought the water to a boil with his chakra. The leaves went in with a light splash, floating at the top before slowly absorbing water and sinking to the bottom. He walked over and sat down on a bench carved into the stone wall. The cold stone made him shiver. A soft clacking marked the cup being put down on the bench beside him. He sighed. Trying to decipher Kakuzu’s writing had given him a headache. He took a deep breath and opened the pocketbook again. The scribbles were just as indecipherable as before. Exhausted, he closed it with an airy gasp as the pages clapped together. Itachi picked the warm cup back up and took a small sip. It tasted earthy and herbal, with a hint of lemon and something fruity hidden behind the bitter heat. It burned on the way down, heating him back up, pulling him into relaxation. He let his mind wander, trying not to think about the numbers for a moment. He thought of Sasuke and the rest of the clan he had erased. Hopefully his brother had grown stronger than the weak boy he had last seen. A soft tone escaped his lips as he hummed a song his mother had sung to him as a small child. He felt a tear start to form in his eye and stopped to compose himself. He took another sip of tea and stayed like that for a while before getting up to stretch and returning to the office.
Stepping back into the room, he was struck by the harsh fluorescent lighting. He was in a state of exhaustion, only mildly paved over by the tea. His eyes hurt as he sat down. Still, he would not back down from this challenge. The work needed to be done, Akatsuki needed their books balanced, and he needed to figure out Kakuzu’s writing. He opened his leather book again, returning his eyes to that horrible problem. The dark symbols stood against the light paper like crows on a snowy field. It hurt his eyes, and he stared himself blinder than he already was. Dancing lights shimmered from the strain in his eyes. He almost thought the symbols on the page danced with them. He briefly thought it to be some genjutsu trap he had overlooked, but there was no chakra affecting him, so he put it down to stale air. Distracted, he hummed that same tune he had hummed in the pantry, matching the rhythm to the lights in his eyes. Somehow, this unlocked something. He recognized one of the characters on the page. Then the next, and the one after that. “Konoha Outskirts. Assassination. Missing-nin. 40 million.” it read. A satisfied smirk grew across his lips. He had done it. It had taken a while, but he had cracked it. He had once again tested his limits and come out on top. Tingling satisfaction and excitement flowed through his body, rejuvenating him from head to toe. He stretched his arms into the air and took a look around the office. There was much work to be done, and he had to work hard to catalogue all of the scrolls before they headed out again. Itachi carefully picked a large scroll from the pile, blew the dust off, cracked open the dry seal, and got to work.