#he knew it was struck by lightning cause it was a lil bit on fire

[slav-every-day]

[some-guy-writes]

FTB Ch 1.

50 Tungsten Bullets Chapter 1: Fifty

Summary | Next

“Who did you get this from?” Jeebs asked.

Spiv leaned on the pawner’s counter. “Who?” he smirked. ”Ain’t no ‘who.’ Found it ourselves, old man. Though, I might be willing to part with the where for something extra.” 

“I ain’t that old.”

“Twenty years my senior at least,” Spiv snickered. “Makes you old in my book.”

Truth be told, Spiv wasn’t sure as to the exact age of Mr. Jeebs. Looked just as wrinkled and grumpy as he did the day Spiv tried to steal the shoes off his feet as a kid. Spiv got caught and beat till he was seeing stars. But by the fourth attempt, Jeebs sat him down with some lukewarm soup and taught him how to make an honest living. Well, a more honest living.

Jeebs stared at the immaculate metal cylinder with a solemn glare. He didn’t even bother responding with one of his famous ten K curses. The device was silver in color, with a gold tint and despite the dim sunlight peeking through the cracks in Jeeb’s shack, it lit up the room as if being struck by mid day. Fifty thousand kollars, easy. Spiv hadn’t the foggiest what the thing he found was, but old world tech like that would fetch a pretty penny from collectors. He brought it to Jeebs because, fuck, even he got a little sentimental at times. Spiv figured it’d only be right for Jeebs to make the first offer. 

“Put it back,” Jeebs spoke without looking up. 

“Sun bake your brain while I’ve been gone?” Spiv pushed off the ancient dead wood table and paced in a circle. “Shit, Jeebs. My crew almost died a dozen times over to get that thing to town and now you’re saying put it back? This could really change things for us if we find the right buyer.” 

“Ain’t gonna be no buyers, put it back,” Jeebs growled. 

“Old man, I got nothing but respect for you. You’ve done a lot for us over the years, but now you’re talkin’ about taking money out of our pocket.” 

Spiv reached for the device. Jeebs slammed his hand down on its casing with such force that it knocked a crystal on the shelf behind him to the floor, shattering in a myriad of iridescent colors. 

“Take it past Yonder’s Mountain, to the bunker where you found it, and put it back.”

“How’d you-”

Jeebs eyes burned beneath droopy lids and a thick brow. “Because I’m the one who put it there.”

“You couldn’t have,” Spiv stammered. “The hull was sealed for centuries. We checked the logs.”

“User authenticated,” a synthesized voice spoke from the device. There was a hiss as white fog seeped out. A panel popped open to reveal a hollow interior. 

Spiv’s eyes bulged like a rock rabbit that’s been left dead two days on a dirt road. “Shit… You’re an old worlder. One the immortals.” 

“Ain’t all that. Can still die, same as any of you. Just don’t get any older is all.”

Spiv’s gaze drifted back to the capsule. Jeebs turned it around so he could see. Inside was a massive revolver and a single shell with a name on it. Gun like that put everything in the crew’s arsenal to shame. Probably put everything in the whole town of Bakersville to shame.

“It’s my gun,” Jeebs said. “Hideo model 12 hybrid, fifty cal. Made to fire tungsten rounds with ionized neon core. Could punch a hole the size of my fist in a tank from a quarter mile off. And that casing is from when I shot the man who killed my wife.”

“You could buy all of Bakersville with that thing. Fuckn’ shit.”

Jeebs looked away. “And all it cost me was two tickets to Fluorescent.”

“Bull crap,” Spiv laughed. “Old man Jeebs living it up with the rich folks on Fluorescent? I can’t even picture it.”

“It’s the truth. Would have been. If, well...”

“Sorry about your wife.”

“No need to trouble yourself,” Jeebs said, rubbing his nose. “Happened before your great great grandaddy could piss himself.”

“Why leave the gun in the ground?”

“Killed two dozen men with that thing. Didn’t want to be reminded of the kind of man it made me. Stuck it in a casimir vacuum chamber and left it at my wife’s grave.”

A minute of silence passed between them. Jeebs refused to look at the capsule. Spiv couldn’t look away. 

“What does it take? To become immortal, that is,” Spiv asked. 

Jeebs let out a sigh. “Wouldn't tell a soul even if I knew. Wars were fought over that question. Wouldn’t want to be the cause of the next.” 

“Does that mean you’re the last one left? Thought all the immortals were rounded up and killed off in the last conflict.”

“No, not all. They just keep a low profile, like me. Can’t be having any more joining the club neither. Just pray that you never meet one. Seen what happens when people live long enough to lose their humanity.”

Spiv took a deep breath, resting his hands behind his head. “Could just as easily turn you in and buy a ticket to Fluorescent myself.” 

“Do what you will,” Jeebs spoke. “You’re a good kid. Wouldn’t want my head to pay for nobody else’s trip to Flour. But I won’t be goin’ easy. Last thing my wife said to me before she died was to live a long and beautiful life. And I don’t intend to let her know how cruel that was to say.”

Spiv cracked a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of throwing my father off a cliff to save my own skin. Might never met him, but you’re sure as hell the closest thing I’ve got.”

Jeebs wiped his eyes. “Don’t say shit like that. Might even make this ol’ life worth living.”

“But what about the gun? Even if I put it back, someone else is just gonna come along and find it.”

“I know.” Jeebs said. “Just get it out of my sight. It’s yours. Spent too much time remembering things I’d hoped to forget.”

“Ey, Spiv,” a wary voice spoke from behind. 

“Well if it ain’t lil’ Kit,” Jeebs chuckled. “Still think you’re better off runin’ with Spiv than workin’ the brothel with your mum.”

“Fuck off, Jeebs. But seriously,“ she said, tugging at Spiv’s arm. “We gotta go. Like right now.”

Spiv glared at her. “What’d you do?”

“I got kinda bored waiting and I mighta scammed a few shady pricks. Now let’s go!”

“Weren’t wearing black masks, were they?” Spiv asked. 

“Yeah. Why?”

“Fuck, Kit! That’s the Faceless Gang from the down south. I warned you about them. Those fuckers will straight up kill you. Like chopped up into little bits and fed to livestock kinda dead.” 

Kit chewed on her cheek. “...Well that’s even more reason why we need to go.”

“Take the door out back,” Jeebs said. Right as the one in the front was knocked clean off its hinges by a large, black boot. 

Spiv scooped up the capsule and bolted. “Find the crew and skip,” he said to Kit as they crept out of the shack. “Not the usual place. Second cave past the landfill. Got it?”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“I’m staying for a bit. Gotta see if old man Jeebs needs my help.”

Kit nodded. She pulled her scarf around her face and dashed off. Like lightning on a sunny day the kids used to call her, and for good reason. Spiv breathed a little easier. Ice cube’s chance in winter on Sebrum anyone’d catch Kit when she got going. 

Spiv peaked between shelves filled with Jeeb’s junk. Just enough to see a cloaked figure in all black strutting towards the old man, an intimidating gun at his hip. 

“Lookin’ for a little roach that ran away with my money,” the stranger said. “Wouldn’t happened to seen where it went, would you pawn man?”

The man in black spoke through some sort of filter. His voice sounded distorted, robotic, like that of the AI in Jeeb’s capsule. 

“Don’t do business with roaches.” Jeebs eyed the man from where he sat. “If you’re here to buy or sell, then we can talk.” 

The man in black stepped closer and put both hands on the counter. “Well I’ll be. You are the spittin’ image of the man that killed the ol’ boss Joey Iron Rod. Grandaddy o’ yours? Grandaddy’s granddaddy?”

“Wouldn’t know nothin’ ‘bout it.”

“Nah. ‘Cause I know for fact the fuck never made spawn. You are the man that killed Joey Iron Rod. Woulda thought time’d do my work for me. Guess the only way to make sure a job is done is to do it yourself, right?” the stranger laughed.

“Might have a point there. Figured the rest of you immortal cunts got blown up in the wars with the rest.” Jeebs reached for a shotgun under his desk.

“Nah see, the old old gang made it through the wars alright. Hid out in the desert, got by. ‘Course, really should be thanking you. Made picking them off myself a whole lot easier.” The stranger leaned in closer. “Let you in on a secret. Reason my gang wear’s masks is so I’ll always be on top. Just gotta purge a couple cunts and call myself something new. ‘Course, now that you know, I’ma have to kill you.”

“Best move your failed fetal acohol abortion ass along,” Jeebs said. “This is my town. Been here forty years. Anything happens to me, posse of thirty to three hundred be after you.”

The man in black stepped away, turning his back, arms raised in a V. “Town might be yours, but the whole world of Sebrum is mine. I am its god. Its immortal ruler. Anyone who stands against my rule will be-”

Before the stranger could finish his sentence, Jeebs landed two rounds of buckshot in his back. The man stumbled from the impact, but he just laughed. 

“Gonna need more than that to kill me,” the man in black spoke. 

That voice made Spiv the coldest he’d ever felt. Tasting ice once when he was seven was now in second place. He swallowed, hard and dry.

The stranger rolled up a dark sleeve. Underneath was a metal arm. It gleamed like the capsule Spiv clutched in his hands. 

“While you been playing shop keep, I’ve been quite productive with my time,” the stranger said, admiring his body. “Took a few generations of scavengers to collect all this. Enough old world tech to make that ol’ cyborg Joey Iron Rod green with envy. Count yourself honoured. You’re the first to see this hand in the better part of a century.” 

He raised his palm to Jeebs.

Jeebs shoved another two rounds in his gun and took aim.

“Your wife screamed bloody murder as Joey split ‘er in two with his iron rod,” the man in black chuckled. “Thought I’d let you know, for when you meet ‘er again.”

There was a soft wine as capacitors discharged. A red light shined from the stranger’s hand, bathing the shop in blood red. Jeebs fired two shots.

Spiv blinked. The next thing he knew, the shack was in flames and Jeebs was on the ground in two pieces. Spiv shook. He’d feared for his life many a time before, but nothing quite compared to this. He wasn’t one to heed monsters. That was, until seeing one in metal flesh. 

The man in black strutted out the way he came, whistling to himself. Spiv wanted to go after him. Wanted to take him from behind and smash his deranged face in. But Spiv was scared. So scared. Too scared to move. He crawled out of the rubble, capsule in hand, tears in his eyes and a tremble in his step. 

It was night when Spiv returned to Jeeb’s shack. The poor thing was looted to completion in hours and the rest burned to the ground. A few people stood around a mound out front with a stone on top. Under normal circumstances, if someone fucked with this town, there’d be a posse after them in no time flat, for better or for worse. How places kept their peace and independence. Nothing like that tonight. By now, everyone had heard the rumors of what the Faceless Gang did to Westbrook Oasis a few miles south. Rumors Spiv was certain to be true. 

Spiv adjusted his belt. He wasn’t used to the weight of fifty tungsten rounds quite yet. Cost him one thousand kollars each. His hand went to the cloth wrapped revolver resting in a holster at his side. The barrel alone nearly reached his knee. He pulled his hat a little lower, spat and walked off into the night. Word was the Faceless Gang was headed up to Jepsum. As luck would have it, so was he. 

[force-healer]

Summer Thunder

Just a lil Ita/Saku thing I wrote today.

Itachi should never have been in Fire Country. And Sakura should have known better than to enter a cave without checking to see if it was occupied first.

Itachi peered down into his small woven basket, creasing his brow at the small amount of herbs inside. He had been picking the herbs for the better part of the afternoon and the sky was beginning to darken now. The irritation in the back of his throat was getting worse and he feared that he wouldn’t be able to pick enough herbs to last him by the time the sun dipped below the horizon.

He crouched back down to the ground and plucked another herb, grasping its long stem with a fist and yanking it forcefully from the ground, careful to preserve the golden bud at the top. He tossed it into the basket with a sigh.

These herbs only grew in Fire Country, which was a dangerous place for him to be. He was hardly inconspicuous, even without his Akatsuki cloak. He was an Uchiha, after all. One of only two living Uchiha left. His eyes would certainly make him recognizable, but at this point he couldn’t deactivate them because he could hardly see without them.

The tickle in his throat became too much and he coughed into the crook of his arm. When his coughing subsided, he looked down at his bare arm where a few flecks of blood had appeared. With a grimace, he wiped them away. He didn’t have time to deal with this. He needed to collect as many herbs as possible and get back to the Akatsuki hideout before anyone saw him here.

He glanced up at the sky, gauging his location. He had several hours of traveling to do, but luckily no one would notice his absence for a few days. And that was a very good thing because it looked like it would rain soon and he couldn’t travel in his condition in the rain.

Because he hadn’t brought the necessary equipment to set up a rainproof camp, he would have to find a suitable inn to stay in until the rain had cleared. He had planned for this, of course. There was a small town just a few miles west of his location. He wouldn’t be recognized there, and even if he were recognized, no one would ask questions. No one who valued their life, anyway.

A raindrop fell and landed on his cheek – a hot summer rain that was already filling the air with its humidity, already shifting the smell of the earth, the lushness of the forestry. He would need to find cover soon enough if he didn’t want his herbs to be ruined.

Quickly, Itachi covered his basket with a cloth and began making his way toward the small town. He heard a peal of thunder off in the distance and not even a second later he saw a bright flash of lightning that illuminated the woods around him.

This wasn’t good. The rain was moving far too quickly. He’d never make it to town before the rain started pouring down. He needed to find cover quickly before the coming rain destroyed the herbs he’d spent all day picking.

Deftly, he climbed a thick, nearby tree, using its height to scout the area for any substantial cover. The forest offered little by way of cover – whatever protection the trees gave would be rendered useless if the rain was heavy enough – which, by the sounds of the consecutive peals of thunder, it was.

But whatever god was watching over Itachi was merciful that day. He spotted the opening of a cave not too far from his location. It would take only a minute or two to reach. He only hoped it was empty. The last thing he needed was to walk straight into some wild, vicious animal.

He made his way to the cave, mindful of his herbs. Mercifully still, the cave was empty save for what used to be a small fire – now a pile of ash and a few mostly burned sticks. It seemed Itachi wasn’t the first to use this cave.

Resigned to a night in the lap of luxury, Itachi set his basket against the furthest wall of the cave and shrugged his pack off his back. He took a seat on the dusty ground, leaning back against the wall. A moment of rest would do him some good. The heat had become unbearable during the day, but inside the cave was mostly cool and dark, especially now that the sun was setting and the rain had begun to fall in a gentle, almost lilting pattern.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the sounds of the pelting raindrops, the rustling leaves, the thudding footsteps…

No, wait. There shouldn’t be any thudding footsteps.

He opened his eyes, listening carefully as he gazed out through the mouth of the cave. The footsteps were close. He masked his chakra, praying that whoever, whatever was out there would be dim enough to miss the cave, or smart enough to realize he was inside and avoid it altogether.

The rain began to come down harder, falling in thick sheets that obscured his vision of the world outside the cave. It would be easy to lose an enemy in rain like this. But it would be unpleasant and would exacerbate his condition. His best bet was just to wait and hope that those thudding footsteps receded on their own.

But Itachi’s god’s mercy was not limitless. He felt the approaching chakra signature of a shinobi and heard the footsteps come steadily closer, closer. He held his breath, steeling himself for this inevitable fight – another death, either his own or another by his hand.

And then, a moment later, a girl hardly older than his little brother burst through the mouth of the cave, sopping wet and panting.

Startled, Itachi eyed the young girl, watching from the back of the cave as she braced her hand against the stone and caught her breath. She was small and pink-haired, he mused, though he knew better than to underestimate a kunoichi. And what’s more, he recognized her. She was Sasuke’s teammate. Of course it had been Itachi’s prerogative to keep tabs on his little brother after he had defected from Konoha, so he had made certain to learn more about Sasuke’s genin team when the time came. He had been surprised to hear that the kyuubi vessel had been assigned to Sasuke’s team, and that Kakashi – someone Itachi might have considered a friend under different circumstances – had been appointed as their sensei.

It was this pink-haired girl who had flown under Itachi’s radar. She was a civilian born, that much he knew. Unremarkable otherwise. Until recently, when he realized that she had apprenticed with the Hokage. She was a medic-nin now and her name was in the bingo book. She had been the one to kill Sasori all that time ago when Akatsuki had kidnapped the Kazekage.

No, it would definitely not do to underestimate her.

He watched as she shrugged a massive canvas pack off her shoulders and tossed it onto the ground. It looked waterproof, Itachi noticed, and huge. He could only imagine what she was carrying around such a massive bag for.

She pushed her soaking wet bangs out of her face – a face that was definitively annoyed – and shrieked in surprise when she met Itachi’s gaze. She stumbled backwards a few steps, her breathing labored as she assessed this new situation she was in.

“You,” she breathed.

Itachi said nothing and remained motionless, waiting to see what she might do with this precariously changing turn of events. Itachi was a well-known shinobi. His name struck fear in Konoha. He was a murderer, a villain, a man so evil he killed his entire family in one fell swoop. Even if this girl was used to her opponents underestimating her, or her pretty face somehow giving her an edge over men who might hesitate to harm her, she had to have known that such advantages would be nonexistent when it came to a clan killer like Itachi Uchiha.

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face in Fire Country.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was right, of course. He had some degree of nerve to come back here, back to the place where was constantly being hunted and hated. And she had a lot of nerve, too, to say something like that right to his face, not knowing what he would do, how he would react.

It wouldn’t take much to kill her. After all, she was already making direct eye contact with him (a mistake she was bound to know she was making).

But maybe she did have a bit of an advantage here. He didn’t want to kill her. He didn’t really want to kill anyone, but he had a specific urge to let her leave here alive. She was Sasuke’s teammate. She must have been important to him. He had already taken so much away from Sasuke. How could he take this, too?

“What the hell are you even doing here?” she demanded. She had taken a fighting stance, her feet spaced apart, bent knees, her hands curled into tight fists. “Where’s shark boy?”

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Itachi answered. He was amused to see the slight shift in her features – a crease between her brow, a new and curious blaze in those bright, jade eyes. “He’s far away from here.”

“Why aren’t you with him?”

He focused more sharply on her now, a little annoyed that she continued to question him. She should be more afraid. She should be running back to Konoha in spite of the rain. But she didn’t look afraid. She only looked angry, and that wasn’t something Itachi could really fault her for. After all, he was the cause of her teammates worst grief, the blight of the bright jewel that was Konoha. He was everything wrong with her idyllic, Will of Fire obsessed village.

“Because I don’t want to travel in the rain,” he answered, slowly as if he were speaking to a small child.

She made a low sound in the back of her throat – a growl that was hardly threatening coming from a cherry blossom.

“I could have a hundred ANBU surrounding this cave in a moment’s notice, you know,” she said. “You have no business being in Fire Country.”

He chuckled – a sound that surprised even him with its cruelness. “If that were true, you’d have already done so by now, because surely you know that you can’t best me in a fight,” he said. “You’ve already made the grave mistake of looking into my eyes, and I know you know what these eyes are capable of.”

She glared at him and crossed her arm with a frustrated huff. But she cast her eyes away from him, looking down at her feet instead. He continued to watch her carefully, because he needed this to play out well in both of their favor. Otherwise, he would have an unfortunate death on his conscious and maybe there would be a renewed interest in the bounty on his head.

“But you are correct that I shouldn’t be here in Fire Country,” he said. She immediately looked back up into his eyes – a foolish, foolish mistake to make twice. She must have had a merciful god looking after her, too. “When the rain clears, I will leave.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “The Akatsuki killer is afraid of a little rain?”

He laughed again, entertained by the absurdity that she would insult him so openly and the irony that his new home was in Rain.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“Don’t taunt me.”

“You ruined Sasuke-kun’s life,” she said sassily, hands on hips. “I’ll taunt you if I please.”

It took approximately one second for him to cross the short length of the cave, wrap his fingers around the slick column of her throat, and press her back against the cave’s wall. She gasped, but was unable to make much more of a sound as he applied firm pressure against her windpipe – not enough to choke her, but enough to warn her. She brought her hands up to his arms, fruitlessly trying to pull them away. She had wisely decided it would be best to screw her eyes shut, so Itachi didn’t have the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“What’s your name?” he demanded. He wished he didn’t have to ask, but he had forgotten and it wouldn’t do to address her as kunoichi.

With his Sharingan, he saw her begin to concentrate chakra in her hands. He remembered then that this girl was famous for her chakra control and her ability to utilize it to obtain monstrous strength. If she chose to use such powers now, she could level the cave and destroy his cover, his herbs, and any chance he had of remaining dry.

“Look at me,” he commanded, moving his face close enough to hers that she would have to feel his breath on her face. She opened her eyes and looked down at his chest, wisely avoiding his gaze. Her chakra was growing steadily in her hands, but she seemed to be waiting for the best moment to strike.

He let go of her, letting her slump down the cave wall and catch her breath. She began to shiver, whether from fear or the chill of being soaked to the bone in the chilly darkness of the cave Itachi didn’t know. He crouched down next to her, but refrained from touching her this time because he didn’t want to provoke her to use her strength.

“Tell me your name, kunoichi.”

She curled her body away from him, looking toward the mouth of the cave as she hugged her arms tightly around herself. She was cold. The chakra in her hands dissipated, much to Itachi’s relief, and her features softened.

She then buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Itachi grimaced, wrinkling his nose at the sound of her sobs. It had been a long time since he’d heard a young girl cry. He didn’t make a habit of causing girls to cry. It made him uncomfortable and it was unfitting of a kunoichi.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling it away from her face so he could see her eyes. “Stop crying—”

Pain exploded in his temple and he staggered backwards, clutching his face. He could feel his eye swelling up already, and a small trickle of blood seeping between his fingers.

She had punched him and he hadn’t seen it coming because she had distracted him with her girlish antics, just like he had known she would. Yet he had let himself fall for it anyway.

But now he was angry and he didn’t need some kunoichi thinking she could pull one over on him like that. With blinding speed, he captured her throat again and pulled her down to the ground, pressing her back into the dust. She squirmed and kicked underneath him, pulling her chakra to her hands again. But this time, he caught her hands and pinned them above her head.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I am not going to hurt you. If I let go of you, will you promise not to attack me?”

“Hell no!” she screamed. “Get the fuck off me and I’ll kick your ass fair and square.”

He let out a huff of amused breath, but tightened his hold on her wrists. She was still avoiding his gaze, but he could easily grab her attention and catch her in a genjutsu if he needed to. He had hoped, however, that he could do this the easy way.

“We can make a deal,” he offered. “We can call a truce. Just until the rain stops.”

“Why should I do that?” she demanded, though she was squirming a little less now, and she subconsciously leaned into him, leeching his warmth. It made Itachi want to let go of her and cross back into the depth of the cave.

It was officially dark now, only scant moonlight through the thick canopy of leaves casting a dim glow into the mouth of the cave. Another loud peal of thunder echoed in the distance and a bright flash of lightning lit up the cave.

“It’s too dangerous to leave the cave right now,” he explained. “So we’re stuck here together.”

“That only makes it easier for me to kill you.”

He had qualms about whether or not she could do that. He wasn’t sure what her skills were like, but she did manage to land a punch on him, so he didn’t want to underestimate her again. “And rob Sasuke of the chance to do that himself?” he asked, hitting a more emotional weakness.

She stopped squirming completely, going limp. She let her head loll to the side as she let out a resigned sigh.

“Why should I trust that you won’t attack me?” she asked, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I need this shelter and I need you to keep those fists of yours from caving the whole thing in,” he said. “If you agree to that, I promise I won’t attack you.”

She clenched her teeth, craning her neck as far away from him as possible. She was caked in dirt now that she had been rolling around on the ground in her damp clothing. It clung in clumps to her hair, marred the paleness of her skin. Even still, it didn’t do much to detract from her pretty, effeminate features. What did Sasuke think of this pink, petulant girl?

“Fine,” she acquiesced. “Now get the fuck off of me.”

Itachi stood up, brushing the dust from his clothes. He thought of extending his arm to help her up, but decided that was too nice and merely walked back to his corner of the cave and sat back down.

“So you’re just going to sit there until the rain stops?”

He cracked open an eye to look at her. She was sitting up now, and had pushed herself against the wall so she could lean back into it. She was watching him, her eyes now focused sharply on his, which would have given him ample opportunity to catch her in a genjutsu, but he had promised not to and she seemed to take him at his word, which was refreshing, but also very stupid.

“That’s the plan.”

She pressed her lips together, her brow furrowed as she let her thoughts wander. Just what was she thinking inside that little pink head? Was she going to tell the Hokage that she ran into the infamous Itachi Uchiha when she returned home? That was fine, Itachi thought, because he’d be long gone by then. Was she planning something nefarious? Would she attack him if he let his guard down? He’d have to keep a careful eye on her.

“You know it’s supposed to rain all night, right?”

He didn’t respond to that, though he wanted to ask why she was caught out in the storm if she had known it was coming.

“What exactly are you doing here in Fire Country?” she asked. “Are you here on Akatsuki business? Does it have something to do with Sasuke-kun?”

He eyed her with disdain because he would gladly send her back out into the rain if she was going to keep up with the incessant questions. “Do you know what curiosity did to the cat?”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her shoulders away from him, back toward the mouth of the cave. It was dark enough now that he could only see her silhouette. He should start a fire (he needed one to fix the herbs for his remedy), but he had nothing to burn.

A heavy silence filled the cave, punctuated only by the relentless downpour of rain and raucous thunder. Every so often the cave lit up entirely with a flash of lightning. It had been a long time since Itachi had weathered a storm like this one.

“Hey, kunoichi.”

She turned her head back toward him. He couldn’t see her face anymore, but he knew he had her attention.

“If you go knock down a tree and get us some dry firewood, I’ll start a fire.”

“I’m not going out there!”

“You’re already wet, though,” he argued.

“I don’t want to be more wet. What if I get struck by lightning?”

“Chances of that are very slim,” he said. “Besides, you’d be able to dry yourself faster by a fire. And it would keep you warm.”

“Why don’t you go do it?”

“Because I don’t have the strength you have. The firewood has to be dry.”

She growled – a sound Itachi found amusing now, and rose to her feet. “I know that,” she said. “I’ll get the damn firewood. But you should know that you’re a piece of shit and I hate you.”

Her gall made him blink in surprise, but she was had already disappeared through the mouth of the cave by the time his mouth had caught up with his brain and he thought to tell her to go fuck herself.

He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity he had without her presence, though. He opened his pack and pulled out his canteen. It was nearly empty now, but he quickly drained the last bit into his mouth before he moved to the mouth of the cave and set it on a rock outside in the rain. He waited patiently for it to be filled as he scanned the landscape for any signs of the kunoichi.

He couldn’t see her, but he could hear the sharp crack of wood nearby – a sound nearly drowned out by the thunder.

When his canteen had been refilled (quickly, thanks to the heavy downpour), he returned to his spot and waited for the girl to return.

A moment later, she returned with a massive tree trunk in hand, dragging it behind her. It was an impressive sight – such a small girl carrying a tree easily three feet in diameter. Once a portion of it was inside the cave, she cracked it open with a fist before breaking it into smaller portions with her hands. She then neatly arranged the wood into a campfire formation by the light of the ever-increasing lightning.

“Stand back,” he warned, prompting another impudent roll of her eyes, even as she retreated back into his corner of the cave.

He cast a fireball jutsu, aiming at the wood she had arranged for him. Once the flames had settled down and the fire was an appropriate size, Itachi let out a tiny sigh of relief. All of the dust the girl had kicked up had begun to irritate his throat again, and now he would be able to brew his medicinal tea.

He grabbed his pack and his basket and moved to sit near the fire, appreciating the warmth and the glow. The girl, too, grabbed her things and moved closer to the fire, sitting across from him and gazing into the flames.

“Thank you,” he said. “For the firewood.”

She looked up at him, surprise obvious in her features. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“You may be a murderer, but at least you have manners,” she said dryly.

“A simple ‘you’re welcome’ would have sufficed,” he said with an equally dry tone.

They were quiet once again, each keeping a wary eye on one another through the flames. After a tense moment, Itachi reached into his pack and pulled out a small metal pot, which he then nestled securely into the fire between two pieces of wood. He felt the girl’s eyes on him as he poured in the water from his canteen, letting the heat boil it.

She cleared her throat and he looked up at her, though it didn’t seem like she wanted his attention. Instead, her gaze was focused on the basket by his feet.

“What is that?” she asked, nodding toward the basket.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re nosy, kunoichi?”

“My name is Sakura.”

He stared at her, unsurprised by the name, but a little caught off guard by her willingness to offer it. His gaze flitted to her pink hair and then her green eyes and then lower, down to the lithe figure beneath those wet, clingy clothes.

“What an unfitting name for a girl so prickly.”

To his bafflement, she laughed – not just a giggle or a huff of amusement, but a full-blown belly laugh. Itachi would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t at least a little charmed by it. When was the last time someone had laughed like that at something he had said? Laughter that wasn’t sardonic was hard to come by and he’d forgotten just how sweet that sound was.

“That’s new,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “As you can imagine, no one’s ever said my name isn’t fitting before. Come to think of it, I’ve never been referred to as prickly, either.”

Another loud peal of thunder rang out, rattling the walls of the cave, the ground beneath them. The girl – Sakura – glanced toward the mouth of the cave, a wistful look on her face. She was still shivering, even in the glow of the fire. In the fire’s hot radiance, Itachi could see her features more clearly now. There were dark circles under her eyes, crow’s feet that shouldn’t be there, and worry lines around her mouth that made her look much older than he knew she was.

He felt guilty suddenly, because it was likely that he was a huge source of pain for her. Sasuke was her teammate and he had defected from Konoha to come find him, and here he was sitting before her. She must have felt conflicted and angry. He couldn’t blame her for her sharp tongue and her vicious attitude.

Again, against his better judgment, Itachi reached into his pack and pulled out his cloak. “Here,” he said, tossing the cloak to her. “You can put this on. It’s warm.”

She gave him an incredulous look, maintaining eye contact with him for far too long to be smart before she dropped her gaze back to the cloak in her hand. She ran her hand over the embroidered red clouds, the white stitching around them.

“I’m not putting this on,” she said.

“That’s fine,” he said. “You can sit on it. Or use it as a pillow.”

Another incredulous look, this time with something that looked suspiciously like pity. But what would give her cause to pity him?

She hesitated for a moment before she shrugged the cloak over her shoulders, slipping her arms into the sleeves that were much too long for her. He imagined that if she were standing, it would be quite a bit too long as well.

And well, he didn’t have to imagine, because she stood up and closed the cloak, all the way from its hem, which brushed the ground to the top of the collar. She then tucked her arms back inside through the sleeves and began rustling around underneath it.

Itachi watched with confused fascination as she seemed to struggle with herself under there.

“Pervert,” she muttered under her breath.

And then a moment later she ejected her wet clothes through the bottom of the cloak. She picked them up and neatly spread them out in front of the fire to dry. Itachi felt a hot blush on his cheek because he could see that she had also taken off her underclothes, which meant that she was completely naked under his cloak.

Though it was unnerving, it also implied some level of trust, which was still foolish on her part, because even though Itachi had no intention of hurting her, she couldn’t have known that. And now she was naked and wearing his cloak and totally unable to fight should it come to that.

But he had promised not to attack her, and she didn’t seem like she was going to attack him, so he supposed everything was fine.

Except that she was naked and that was definitely not fine.

And now he couldn’t take his eyes off her, because he couldn’t remember a time when he had ever been around a naked girl, even if she was an enemy.

She sat back down, bring her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. She flicked her gaze up to his, and noticing that he was watching her, she narrowed her eyes slightly.

He returned his attention to the water in the pot, which was now boiling. He pulled the cloth that was covering his basket of herbs and reached in for a handful. Silently, he began to pick the petals off the buds, exposing the core – the part he really needed. He dropped a couple cores into the pot, watching as they unfurled themselves in the water.

“Goldbalm,” Sakura said. “That’s what’s in the basket?”

He looked up at her and nodded before looking back down into the pot.

“That’s a cough suppressant,” she continued. “Are you sick, Itachi?”

He winced, caught off guard by the way she spoke his name. It didn’t have an animosity in it, even though that’s what he deserved. No, she seemed matter-of-fact as she cocked her head and watched him pull the petals off the goldbalm cores. He didn’t answer her, or rather, he didn’t feel that telling her the truth was a wise thing to do. But she was a medic, after all. She would know what the herbs would for. And she had touched him earlier, so maybe she already knew.

And then, as if purely for the intention of betraying him, the tickle in his throat returned and he began to cough. He held up his arm to catch the blood he knew would be there, shielding Sakura and the fire from his germs, his abhorrent disease.

“You’re doing that all wrong,” she said. “If you want to get the most out of the goldbalm, you need to grind up the cores first.”

She pulled her pack closer to her and unzipped on the side pockets. She pulled out of it a mortar and pestle – something he would never have thought to carry around with him. She stood up and skirted the fire to pass the tools to him, which surprised him. She had no reason to offer him her help.

But then again, he had no reason to offer her his.

He took the mortar and pestle from her, ignoring the shock that coursed through him when his fingertip grazed her wrist.

“Those only grow out here in Fire Country,” she speculated. “That’s why you’re here. Gathering herbs.”

He ignored her as he placed several goldbalm cores into the mortar and began to grind them up. He felt her eyes on him as he worked, but he didn’t look up at her.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” she began, and immediately she had his attention, though he kept his eyes down on his work. “But I saw your medical file. I mean, I was snooping through Uchiha files. It wasn’t just lying around. But I saw it and I know you’re sick.”

“Then why did you ask?” he snapped, then immediately regretted it.

“I just wanted to confirm,” she said quietly. “You know your disease is treatable. Those herbs might be helping with your cough, but they aren’t treating the root cause.”

“I’m not really in a position to be seeking medical assistance.”

“It will be a real shame if Sasuke doesn’t get to you before your illness does.”

“Then let’s pray he comes quickly.”

It was too much to have said and he realized this the moment the last word escaped his lips. He kept his eyes on the mortar and pestle, avoiding Sakura’s gaze even though he could feel her staring at him. She hadn’t returned to her side of the fire yet. Instead, she crouched down next to him and reached into the basket. Without looking up at her face, he let his eyes wander to her hands and watched her peel the petals from the goldbalm core and pass it to him.

After a few minutes of this unsettling teamwork, Itachi had at least a few tablespoons of the goldbalm powder, which he lifted to pour into the pot.

But Sakura’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Wait,” she said. “Not like that.”

She reached into her pack again and pulled out a fine mesh bag – one meant for teas and other herbal remedies. She pulled the ribbon, un-cinching it, and held it open for him to pour the powder inside. He gratefully accepted her help and poured the powder inside and watched as she tossed the bag into the pot.

“You don’t have to help me,” he said.

“I’m not helping you. I’m helping Sasuke.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He wondered now if she would still want to tell her Hokage that she had seen the infamous Itachi Uchiha, if she would want to admit that she had helped him in some way.

“It’s hard to look at you,” she said after the silence had weighed heavy for a few moments. “You look so much like him.”

It was hard to look at her, too, because she reminded him so much of Konoha and the life he left behind.

“Don’t look at me, then.”

She pouted and stood up. He could feel her looking down at him, tapping her foot somewhere under that length of cloak as if she were waiting for him to say something. When he said nothing, she returned to her side of the fire, crossed her legs, and sat down.

“Do they know you’re sick?” she asked. “Akatsuki, I mean.”

Again with the questions, he thought. How could one person be so annoying and yet so helpful?

“I suppose you wouldn’t want to answer that,” she said. He thought he detected a hint of a smile in her tone. He chanced a look up at her face and saw that she was indeed smiling, all traces of animosity gone from her.

That was more concerning than anything she had said or done so far. She shouldn’t be smiling or laughing or helping him.

“But shark boy probably knows, doesn’t he?” she continued. “I mean, he’s your partner, right? He’s probably heard you coughing before.”

That was true, Itachi thought. Kisame knew of his disease. There wasn’t much that could be done about that. But on some level, he trusted the shark nin, so he wasn’t too concerned about it.

“I’ve got to say, it’s real harrowing to see the mighty Itachi Uchiha cough,” she said.

Absently, because his thoughts were way too far away now, Itachi pulled the pot from the fire and set it aside to cool and steep.

“Sorry, I must be annoying you.”

She was, but she also kind of wasn’t.

“Don’t get too comfortable around me, kunoichi—”

“Sakura.”

“Sakura.”

“Please,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “As if I could ever feel comfortable around someone like you. But at the same time, being near you is sort of like being near Sasuke… Except you’re a little nicer.”

She chuckled darkly at her own words and Itachi bristled. Just what did she mean by that?

Another tense moment of silence went by. Sakura shrank further away from the fire, sufficiently warmed now that she had been underneath his cloak for so long. She pulled the sleeves of his cloak around her hands and fisted them as she leaned back into the wall and shut her eyes.

Itachi glanced down at his feet and then back toward the mouth of the cave. The rain was still coming down hard and it was difficult to see much in the darkness. There was nothing left to do now but wait until the storm passed.

He leaned back against the opposite wall, crossing his arms and trying not to let his gaze fall on Sakura.

But like a magnet, he couldn’t draw his gaze away from her for too long. With her eyes closed, he could look at her without her rebuke, so he did. He took in her delicate features, her pale lips, dirty cheeks, and stringy, dirt caked hair. She was a mess, so why did he feel the compulsion to push the errant bangs away from her face and touch the skin of her cheek?

Logically, he knew that part of his draw to her was because she was Sasuke’s teammate. She was a Konoha kunoichi. She was a slice of home, a reminder of why he wore an Akatsuki cloak, why he watched the village from the shadows, why it was so necessary that Sasuke kill him.

And logically he also knew that another reason he was drawn to her was that she was pretty and young and he was a red blooded male who hadn’t had the time or the frame of mind to pursue a young woman before. Not that she was one he could pursue. She just happened to be there.

Yeah, that was it. She just happened to have pretty features, and he just happened to have been unfortunate enough to have never explored his hormones post adolescence. She just happened to be here in this cave with him. Naked underneath his cloak.

Sucking in a shaky breath, he shifted his weight forward and picked up the metal pot, bringing it to his lips.

It tasted sweeter than he remembered, and felt soothing and warm against the irritation in his throat. She had been right – grinding the cores was a much better way to elicit goldbalm’s healing properties.

He sat sipping the tea and watching Sakura, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the fact that he was in his home country – maybe for the last time, depending on how long it took Sasuke to find him. It was strange to be in Sakura’s company and feel so at peace. He shouldn’t feel like this. And she shouldn’t still have her eyes closed while an enemy was sitting right across from her.

But she looked at peace, too, and he wouldn’t be the one to take that from her.

He sat there for a few more minutes as he finished his tea. The sounds of the rain let up a little. He glanced back to the mouth of the cave and saw the sheets of rain ebb away into nothing but a drizzle.

And now that he’d had his tea, he felt better – well enough to return to Akatsuki’s base. Reluctantly, he got to his feet. He collected his things, covered his basket with what left he had of the goldbalm and shrugged his pack back onto his shoulders.

“Sakura,” he said, turning his attention to the one possession he had yet to reclaim. He approached her and noticed that she was asleep, her breathing even and slow.

He could wake her, but it seemed like such a waste. With her asleep he could easily get away from her without having to fight or say goodbye or have any other awkward conversation.

But that meant forgoing his cloak, because even if he was an S-class criminal and a murderer and a missing-nin, he wouldn’t strip her naked and leave her here alone. Instead, he bent down and brushed that strand of hair away from her face. He touched her cheek, which was soft and silky in spite of its current state of ruddiness.

“Thank you for your help, Sakura,” he said softly, watching her chest fall and rise as she slept. “Keep the cloak as a parting gift. And take care of Sasuke for me.”

He stood up straight, extinguished his fire, and gave her one last glance before he ventured back out into the rain.

________________________________________

Exactly one month later, Itachi returned to Fire Country with his basket, a new Akatsuki cloak, and a mortar and pestle tucked away in his pack.

He would be more careful this time. He had checked the weather – there was no sign of rain for the next week. He could pick the herbs to his heart’s content, with ANBU patrols being his only concern, though he had been scouting the area for some time and he knew that ANBU weren’t likely to be around this location until later in the evening.

But to his annoyance, it seemed that there weren’t that many goldbalms to be picked. He was aware they typically grew in the heat of summer, and that fall was rapidly approaching. But still, he had hoped he’d be able to top off his supply before he isolated himself to Rain again.

He picked what little he could, following the path they grew east until it seemed he had reached the cave again. He paused, gazing into its darkness, wondering if there was anything in there today when a piece of blinding white parchment caught his eye.

There, tacked to the cave’s mouth, was a note written in girlish scrawl. “Don’t die yet,” it said. Itachi plucked the note off the wall and stuffed it into his pocket. It must have been Sakura’s doing. Who else would leave a note like this?

Out of curiosity, he wandered into the cave. It looked exactly the same, down to the pile of ashes, though it was maybe a little bigger than before. And on the ground against the back wall was a wicker basket. He sensed a trap, but he couldn’t claim that that was why his heartbeat increased slightly.

He lifted the basket’s lid to find it filled to the brim with goldbalm cores.