*whispers* kisaita and āthings you said too quietlyā or āthings you said when you were cryingā i canāt decide both of them are suffering-worthy
āKisame, you need to sleep.ā
Kisame blinks, refusal fighting to break through the bleary haze as he lifts his head. Thunder rumbles in the distance as he squares his shoulders and turns back to Itachi. From his place on top of his pack, Itachi huffs at his partnerās grumble of denial.
āItās been four days. Even with your endurance, itās only a matter of time before your brain shuts down. Especially with how much blood you lost.ā
āI should still be okay for a little bit.ā Ā The layer of light-hearted ease is thin, but itās still there. āNo hallucinations of dead teammates or fear that the tree over there will burst from the ground and eat me just yet. And when those shinobi catch up, that should wake me up.ā
Kisame scrunches up his brows, thinking. āIā¦.it would be those Kusa chunin. And hunter nin, thereās always hunter nin. We already got the bounty hunters, right?ā
āNot these ones. And we killed the Kusa nin three days ago.ā
āRight, the giant fireballā¦.ā He shakes his head slightly. Itachi watches him from beneath the tree, watches the raindrops slide down the curved silhouette of his nose, watches his shoulders slump.
āIām pretty sure I can still manage it,ā Kisame says, voice even thinner.
āYou donāt need to.ā
Kisame goes very quiet, and even through the rain Itachi can hear his own ragged breathing. He pulls himself up from his pack slowly, trying to angle himself to avoid the stabbing pain in his chest.
āItās not safe, Kisame. For either of us. You know better than anyone what happens to shinobi who fall asleep at their post. And I canāt sleep anyway.ā
Kisame pauses only a moment this time before sighing and shuffling back further into the canopy towards him, letting Samehada rest against a tree. This time, he doesnāt even ask if it hurts; he knows what the answer is. Itachi finds the outline of Kisameās shoulders in the dim light and pulls him closer. Kisame lets himself led down to rest against Itachiās lap.
āSorry, Iām probably getting you all wet.ā
āYouāre no worse than me,ā Itachi murmurs, raking his fingers back through Kisameās sopping hair. Itās not entirely untrue; the mud on his own sandals is so thickly caked theyāre practically boots, and wringing out his hair could only do so much. But Kisame is soaked to the bone, water still dripping from his clothes to Itachiās, and skin tightening from the flare of his gills.
They need a fire. They need to get out of these wet, muddy clothes. They need a better meal than the stripes of rabbit jerky their supplies have whittled down to. They need to rest, and talk about things that arenāt surviving and killing and dying. They need time.
They have maybe a few hours; hopefully in his current state itāll take Kisame less than one to fall asleep.
Itachi twists around to undo the buckles of his sodden pack to grab their thermoses, passing Kisame his before returning to rummage through maps and kunai. He likes to think that the ease of knowing it would be in its usual place is due to their years of quick escapes and the need for easily accessed supplies, and not about the fact that heād be able to do it blind.
He thinks his is Blue Mountain Tea, but even after he first few lukewarm mouthfuls he canāt be sure. Still, it helps wash down the blood. He glances down at Kisame and isnāt surprised to see his cup almost untouched.
āHere,ā he murmurs, reaching for the abandoned cup. He presses it close to his lips and breathes a steady stream of flame until he can taste the chamomile flavoured steam. The chakra leaves a dull burn from his chest to his throat, but if itās worse than the usual ache heās grown numb to it. He thinks some hurt must show though, from the defeated look on Kisameās face. He must be little more than a silhouette with glowing eyes, but his partner can still read too much of him. As Itachi grabs his own cup, he watches the flames dancing in his partnerās pale eyes and wished the light reached the rest of him. Kisameās lips move, and for a moment Itachi wished his vision had gone far enough that he couldnāt read the words.
Itachiās sharp intake of breath stabs deep within his lungs and he canāt meet Kisameās eyes. He lifts his gaze to the canopy above them, letting the stray drops dash against his cheek.
āIāll try, Itachi-san,ā Kisame says softly, but he finally lets himself settle back against Itachi. While he holds his gaze, he can feel, more than see, the slow flicker of his eyelids as he drifts off.
He gently strokes the wet hair back from Kisameās forehead, pushing back the strands sticking to the stitches. The rain has managed to wash out most of the blood from his hair, and hopefully the stitches would be able to come out tomorrow. Or was it today? Hard to tell in this light.
He had to admit it had been a good shot. Theyād noticed Kisameās healing quickly and gone straight for his head. Itachi had only managed to throw the last one slightly off track. The rest of the squad had not been given an opportunity to replicate their teammates attempt.
Nor would the ANBU or the hunter nin over the next week. Itachi hopes that they will head the flee on sight broadcast for Kisame and himself, but resigns himself that they likely wonāt. By now, theyāll know theyāve been spotted, and believe thereās no turning back. Itachi supposes there isnāt.
Theyāll be able to take them, him and Kisame. Even as they slowly fade away, they can take them. Ā But the hunters will keep coming for Kisame long after Itachi is gone. He might be able to take them.
He hopes Kisame will try.
āKisame?ā he whispers, but the only answer is Kisameās soft breathing. Ā His own mouth opens again, but the words are choked in his throat.
Promise meā¦..I wish I couldā¦.I know you canā¦.I need you toā¦please tryā¦.
Kisame doesnāt stir when the tears hit his cheek.