A plotted starter for @suturedninja
At this point, it was likely they had been written off as casualties. Their two-man cell had been missing for too long now, and, perhaps by all rights, Kisame and Itachi should have been dead. Reconnaissance deep in Konoha territory was a precarious mission, one that originally had two primary objectives; acquisition of a strange, potentially useful weapon and opportunistic intel on the nine-tails. Now, Kisame's only objective was to drag himself and the dead weight on his shoulder through the underground doors of the Akatsuki. Disaster, to say the least. But.. they were breathing. Somehow... Somewhat.
Dumping Itachi's fragile form on the common room couch, Samehada slipping from his grip to the ground, the ningyo trudged onward, step by uneven step. It was a shame; it smelt noxiously of bleach here. Konan must have cleaned. Pity those efforts could not stem the tides of blood in their halls again. Try as she might, poor thing.
But Kisame had no room for sentiment. Even when an overly excitable Deidera came crashing out of his room to the commotion, the rogue-nin's dead eyes glittered darkly down. His face flashed with his ever-sharp smile, but all it's usual humor had been bled dry. "Excuse me." He said, polite as ever before dismissing himself before the young artisan could so much as also where the hell they had been. He shouldered past the blonde, his natural bulk allowing him little contest. Never did this hall feel as long as it did how. Longer than than the trek to enemy territory and back, even. He had made it. Graceless, but here.
He collapsed on his bed, body battered, broken, and bruised. The tatters of his cloak barely held to his frame, doing little to obscure the grevious wounds that oozed beneath. Oversoaked bandages hardly clung to his agitated, sandpaper skin, and that was to speak nothing of the shard of his mangled rib that impaled him on his own flesh. A true mess.
But he made it. Alive, even just barely.
So when he heard footsteps, quiet as they may be, come down the hall, Kisame grimaced. He planted a dirty palm on his sheet as though he intended to abuse his poor body further and get up; but no adrenaline would come to fuel him. His attempt failed.
"...'Tachi's in the commons." He rumbled low to the approaching figure. If only he had shut and locked the door. "Samehada's ... Poisoned." He thought to add, staring blankly at the semi-shut door, willing it to remain that way. Untouched.
