Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shisui drops to the ground. His little cousin’s fingers twitch against his shuriken. “I’m going to need you to tell me I’m not crazy.”

The spokes glint in the sun. After a moment of consideration, they’re embedded within the bullseye on the other side of the field. “Hello, Shisui.”

Shisui waves him off, leveling his cousin with a dismissive look. “Please. We’ve known each other for years. We’re past the point of proper greetings.” His gaze becomes imploring. “Humor me.”

“Very well.” Itachi’s posture loosens by a near-imperceptible margin. “Why are you not crazy?” 

“See,” Shisui replies, “You’re supposed to say, ‘Of course you’re not crazy, cousin Shisui. In fact, you’re the picture of mental health!’” He pauses at Itachi’s glance. “...Comparatively.”

Itachi lets out a noncommittal hum. “Are you wanting to be genuinely reassured?”

He hems and haws. “I want you to keep an open mind. And on that note; I don’t think I like the implication in your tone, young man.”

His cousin turns towards him fully, unimpressed. 

“Alright, fine,” Shisui sighs. “You’ve pulled it out of me. I’ll tell you.”

“Will you?” Itachi asks, almost idly. 

“Yes.” He fidgets, then finally blurts out, “I think I’m being haunted.”

With appropriately dramatic timing, the wind whistles by. Itachi stares at him, expression carefully neutral.

Shisui does his best to appear like he’s in his right mind. Which he is. “I’m not delusional.”

“Hn,” Itachi replies.

“At least try to look like you believe me,” Shisui whines. Itachi widens his eyes slightly, the picture of innocence. He cannot believe the large majority of their clan thinks he doesn’t have an impolite bone in his body. “I mean, it’s either that or you-know-who is trying out some weird new recruitment strategies.” He grabs his cousin by the shoulders. “Tell me, Itachi, do I look like the type of person who’d willingly hop into the back of a white cart?”

Itachi’s expression twists to show the slightest hint of disgruntlement. Still, there’s a flash of worry in his eye. “Is it truly that concerning?”

Shisui pulls away with a huff. His little cousin immediately moves to smooth the wrinkles in his shirt. “Well, no. Maybe?” He throws his hands into the air. “You’d think so. But it’s more like…” He slams a fist into his palm. “You know your creepy stalker fan club? Their obsession with giving you gifts at random?”

His little cousin looks back up, disturbed. “Yes.”

“I keep finding ‘care packages’ scattered throughout my house.” Shisui paces back and forth, grass poking through his sandals. “Except they’re, you know, not packages. It’s like… I’ll head home one night, and suddenly there's a hotpot in my fridge. Or a new pair of gloves in my dresser. Or a blanket I do not remember buying on my couch. And if you think any of that is strange,” he stresses, “Clearly you haven’t stumbled upon a bag filled with premium weaponry that’s completely unrecognizable to every single metal worker in Konoha.”

Itachi frowns. “Perhaps they’re made by an independent seller.”

“I feel like you really just glossed over everything else there,” Shisui mutters. “Anyway, I checked. Thoroughly. Just about every one of them assured me they’d never send anything out without clear branding.” He pulls a kunai from his pouch, all but shoving it in Itachi’s face. Unsurprisingly, he pulls back. “See?” Shisui insists, flipping it back and forth. “Nothing.”

Itachi carefully takes the blade from his hands, testing the weight. He tilts his head, then launches it towards the field’s centermost target. Predictably, it lands right next to the shuriken he’d thrown earlier. “It’s well-made.”

“Premium weaponry,” Shisui repeats. “Not one or two things, either. A whole set, worth at least a couple thousand ryo. Each.” 

“There were no notes?” His cousin’s nose scrunches. “A confession letter, perhaps?”

Shisui’s responding laugh is nearly hysterical. “Well. Something like that.” He slips a paper from his pocket, smoothing it out before handing it over.

Itachi stares. “It’s written in newspaper clippings.”

“Like a ransom note straight out of an action movie.” Shisui recites the words with the over-exuberance of a daytime radio host. “‘Not for use on self. Seriously, I mean it. I know where you live. I know where Maito Gai lives. Consider your options very carefully.’” He points at the first line, disgruntled. “Frankly, I’m offended that they felt the need to clarify.”

“It’s strange,” Itachi agrees, inspecting the lettering. “This is from the civilian district.”

“Kind of debunks the ghost theory,” Shisui replies glumly, plucking the paper from Itachi’s grip. “And raises the question… Am I being punked by a civilian-born ANBU?”

“Father wouldn’t allow their presence within the compound,” Itachi notes with a slight frown. “Which would indicate that they’re working independently.”

“Or they’re unafraid of death, maiming, and all that other fun stuff,” Shisui suggests flippantly, tucking the note back into his pocket. “But, yeah. Seems like a whole lot of effort to go through, especially for someone who’s clearly not eager to share who they are.”

“How often do these… ‘care packages’,” Itachi quotes delicately, “Arrive?”

“Pretty often. Started up a few weeks ago.” Shisui pouts at his cousin’s distinctly unimpressed expression. “No, I haven’t said anything to anyone. Don’t judge me. Besides…” He lowers his voice, gaze appropriately intense. “Do you really want it getting out to Fugaku that a non-Uchiha is getting in and out of the compound on the regular? Without anybody noticing?”

Itachi hesitates. “Are you certain it’s not an Uchiha?”

Shisui sighs theatrically, placing a hand over his heart. “You know… While I would love to meet another Uchiha with a sense of humor, I’m afraid I’m the once-in-a-generation type.”

Itachi looks equal parts exasperated and conflicted. “Have you attempted to make contact? Or simply watched from outside?” 

“Well, now you’ve gotten to the crux of the issue, dear cousin. I need you,” Shisui says, pulling them shoulder-to-shoulder, “To lend me a hand. Or, well. An eye. Both of them, preferably. It’d be pretty strange if you only used one.” He turns towards Itachi, expression blank. “What were we talking about again?”

Itachi looks up to the sky, as if begging for patience. “You’re requesting I keep watch while you’re out?” 

Shisui suppresses his grin. “Hmm… Well… If you’re offering…”

Reluctantly, Itachi nods. “Very well.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Shisui cheers, capitalizing on the rare opportunity to ruffle his cousin’s hair. Itachi sighs, already regretful.

Chapter Text

“Itachi,” Shisui asks, sickly-sweet, “Why are we stalking a small, civilian child?”

“You wished to know who was responsible for your care packages,” his cousin replies plainly. “And she’s in the Academy. A year above Sasuke.”

“Do you see why that’s not any better?” he hisses, gesturing wildly in her direction. “She’s—what? Six?” He holds up a hand before Itachi can respond. “Do not use yourself as a benchmark.”

Itachi has the audacity to huff. “It was her. I watched her release her henge.”

“That doesn’t—” he cuts himself off, feeling a vague sense of dread. “...Did you follow her home?”

“No.” Itachi pauses, shifting uncomfortably. “She lives at the orphanage.”

Shisui wheezes, gripping the branch beneath him. “Oh, Sage…” 

“She’s not one of His,” Itachi continues, frowning. “Nor do her chakric capabilities appear to be particularly exceptional…” 

“This feels immoral,” Shisui mutters, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Do you think Fugaku-sama will be able to tell? Can he smell guilt?”

Itachi remains silent, gaze pointed downwards.

“He’ll know,” he concludes. “He’ll know, and he’ll have me arrested, and I’ll never taste freedom again…”

Itachi hums. "I believe she knows we’re here."

“I—what?” Shisui glances down to see the girl plant her foot against the side of the tree. Only the hand on his shoulder keeps him from volleying over the branch. 

“She’s fine,” Itachi says unnecessarily. 

Shisui feels lightheaded. He watches, unblinking, as she casually strides towards them. “I noticed.”

“Hiya.” The girl shoos them both aside before hauling herself onto the branch. As she settles into place, she eyes them warily. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?”

“What the fuck,” Shisui whispers.

“Does it matter?” his cousin asks, flicking his arm.

“Yes.” She doesn’t elaborate. “Is he okay?”

Itachi doesn’t even look at him. “He’s fine.” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re in the Academy. Year two. Tenten, no family name.”

“Wow,” she beams. “That’s kinda creepy.”

“You must have decent chakra control, if you’re able to tree-walk without trouble,” he continues, unphased. “Your henge is near-perfect, as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were able to adequately perform each of the Academy Three.”

Tenten—who does really appear to be yet another baby genius, go figure—narrows her eyes. “Do I want to know where you’re going with this?” 

“Why have you not graduated?” Itachi asks bluntly, causing her jaw to clench. Shisui’s head snaps to the side. “I imagine you’re capable.”

She stares at him for several moments before looking away with a huff. “I'm waiting, obviously. I’ve already got my team picked out.”

A crease forms between Itachi’s brows. “You cannot pick out your team.”

“You couldn’t,” Tenten sniffs. “I can.”

Shisui lets out a startled laugh. The girl’s gaze immediately snaps over to him. It’s strangely intense, especially for someone her age. He wonders if this is how everyone else feels under the scrutiny of the Sharingan. 

“Are you going to tell anyone?” she asks again. “About me?”

Sage, does this mean she really was the one breaking into his house? “...You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that, kid.”

She lets out a put-upon sigh. “I want to graduate with my classmates. So, you know. I’d prefer to keep this all under wraps.”

“The tree-walking, or the care packages?” Itachi questions.

“I said all of it, didn’t I?” Tenten snarks. “Look, just say you won’t. It doesn’t really cost you, does it?”

Shisui trades a glance with Itachi. “Well. I don’t see why we’d have to.” His tone is casual, but his gaze is sharp. “So long as you don’t turn out to be a big bad missing-nin, or something.”

“If I were, I wouldn’t admit it,” Tenten points out, pulling another laugh from him. “I suppose that makes things easier on me. Do you know how time-consuming it is to cut and paste individual letters from a newspaper?” She leans back, practically daring the branch to drop her. Shisui pretends, valiantly, like he’s not about to have a heart-attack. “Hardly worth the effort, I tell you.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what that’s all about?” Shisui asks, subtly scooting closer. He doesn’t quite reach out to support her, but he’s sure Itachi notices regardless.

“Probably not.” There’s a brief pause before she grins. “Well. Maybe if you figure it out yourself.”

Shisui’s lips curve upwards, reluctantly amused. “And what are the chances of that happening?” 

Tenten laughs, unrepentant. “Low.”