Chapter Text
Shisui startled awake when the safehouse door slid open, one hand falling to his tanto, but he checked the reflex almost immediately. The moonlight outside was dim, but it provided enough illumination to outline a small, shadowed figure in ANBU armor, the hilt of a ninjato peeking over his shoulder. The boy mechanically removed his boots in the entryway, and Shisui felt his heart shatter as he moved into the light. His gloves, arms, and gray flak vest were streaked with ash and blood. His midnight hair was filthy and disheveled, barely restrained by a crimson tie, but enough of his face was visible for Shisui to see the unnatural pallor of his cheeks.
"'Tachi," he whispered, flickering toward him, but a taller man with a cloth mask over the lower part of his face slipped through the doorway to block his path. Other than lifting a hand to his sword hilt, Itachi didn't react. His empty onyx eyes held no expression, there was no wire-taut tension in his slender body, but Shisui still felt a shiver run down his spine. "Itachi?"
The other man spun Shisui against the wall, pinning him with an armored forearm over his throat, but his unyielding grip was surprisingly gentle. "Weapons on the floor, Itachi-kun," the man ordered calmly. "All of them."
There was no movement, and Shisui didn't dare speak. He stared up into the older man's eyes, one the grey of stormclouds and one Sharingan crimson, and a memory pooled in his mind.
Itachi was sitting on the riverbank, his fingers trailing absently through the water. "Taichou...is a good man. A hard man, at times, but a good one. His men trust him."
"Yeah, 'Tachi, but do you trust him?" Shisui pressed. "I know ANBU, I know what some of us are like. Can I trust these men with your life?"
"You have little choice," Itachi said mildly, and he ducked Shisui's annoyed swat. "Someone so concerned for my welfare really ought to avoid hitting me—"
Shisui tackled him into the mud. Itachi let him, eyes soft and the corner of his mouth quirked up in something that might become a smile if Shisui played his cards right. But for now, Shisui let his hold on Itachi's wrists tighten. "Do not play games with me. If they're a threat to you..."
"They aren't." Itachi's voice was little more than a breath, shrouded by genjutsu and meant for Shisui's ears alone. "Taichou is the son of the White Fang."
"Hatake?" Shisui asked, raising an eyebrow. "Shit, who'd you piss off?"
He didn't miss the way Itachi's jaw tightened or the hint of tension that returned to his muscles, and Shisui felt the knot in his stomach unclench just a bit. Itachi did trust the men he served with. Didn't just trust them, but was ready to defend them. It didn't matter that Itachi hadn't said a word. He rarely needed to.
Shisui kissed his forehead and rolled off of him. "You know what, never mind. You're not allowed to tell me anyway. I'm retired." He smiled. "Just watch yourself out there, okay?"
Motion anchored Shisui in the present again as Itachi slowly unbuckled his sword and leaned it against the wall. His fingers fell to his thigh holsters next, fumbling at straps that were caked with mud. He finally yanked the clasp free, and the rattle of steel as they fell to the floor was loud in the otherwise silent room.
"And the armor," Kakashi said without looking at him. The pressure on Shisui's throat didn't waver.
It took several seconds for Itachi to respond, a lifetime for one of the ANBU. The boy's empty expression never changed, but his reluctance was obvious as he pulled off his gloves, and then unlaced his steel bracers. The regulation armguards had always been too large for him, and Shisui saw little glimpses of mottled red-and-black flesh as Itachi worked them down over his hands. Burns. Shisui couldn't help the sound he made then, and Itachi's hand blurred as he retrieved one of his discarded kunai.
"No." The order split the air within the tiny room, and Kakashi turned his head toward Itachi for the first time. The two ANBU soldiers locked eyes, and Itachi's grip on the weapon shifted. Blood dribbled down Itachi's arms, oozing from where the steel of his bracers had seared and torn his skin, but the blade was steady in his hand. They stood like that for a long time, unmoving, until Itachi's gaze flickered to Shisui. Then, slowly, he dropped the knife. A moment later, he knelt and started unlacing his greaves. The skin between the straps had suffered the same burns as his arms. One of Itachi's knees was bruised and swollen, but he didn't favor it as he stood again.
Itachi's hands were slower as they moved to the buckles on either side of his ruined flak vest. His breathing hitched as each clasp came undone, the first acknowledgement of the pain he was in, and when he carefully shrugged out from under the chestplate, Kakashi's arm dug into Shisui's windpipe to keep him silent. Black clothing was popular among shinobi because it melded with the shadows, and because the dye rendered blood all but invisible. Or it should have. The front of Itachi's shirt had taken on a subtle sheen from sternum to waist and the fabric clung wetly to his stomach.
"Let Shisui-kun help you to the bathroom," Kakashi commanded quietly, and the restraining arm dropped away.
Shisui was at Itachi's side in an instant. He bent his knees a bit to put himself at eye level with the boy. "'Tachi?" he asked hesitantly. "Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"
There was no reaction for the longest time. Then Itachi blinked. "Shisui..."
Itachi's balance wavered slightly, and Shisui abandoned caution. In one smooth motion, he scooped the boy up into his arms and cradled him against his chest. Itachi let out a choked sound of discomfort at the sudden movement. His eyes rolled back momentarily until he mastered himself, but they didn't quite focus on Shisui's face again.
"He should be in a hospital, you crazy son of a bitch. What the hell were you thinking?" Shisui hissed, starting for the door.
Kakashi kicked it shut before he reached it. "That would be the worst place for him. Drugged, injured, helpless..."
Shisui heard what he didn't say, and he stared at Itachi's ashen face as it hit him. "One of our own did this to him."
"One of your own," Kakashi said grimly. "And now you're going to tell me why."