Reaper [YonShi, ItaShi, slight ItaYon and ItaKisa; PG]
Title: Reaper
Author: the-lady-lamb
Genre: Naruto
Sub-genre: Angst/Romance
Summary: Minato isn't gone yet, and Itachi isn't here to give him permission to leave. Very AU. A smidgeon of shounen ai with a lot of shoujo elements mixed in.
Rated: PG for implied character death.
Author's Notes: Another one for yukari_rin - this one is a full-fledged response to her beautiful, beautiful piece Last Words, which brought my Itachi!muse back to life. This is just my version of how things may have transpired; don't take me at face value, especially since this is my own fic and was not coordinated with yukari_rin . I'm just using the situation to my own ends. Shisui's a chick, Itachi's a teenager, Minato's dying, Kisame's black, Konoha's a tiny town in the midwest. ...don't ask about that last one.
Reaper
Monster
How should I feel
Creatures lie here
Looking through the window
- "Monster", Meg & Dia
There is nothing to be placated - Namikaze Minato is not being crushed beneath the thumb of some oppressive god - and so he brings no gift to the hospital with him. It is the very same hospital where he was born (Konoha is a very small town for all it's boasting) and he takes his time walking through the separate wards, one by one, and ascends the flight of stairs to the blond's room.
Shisui has just left and he knows she has because it smells like her - her scent (a mixture of rose tea and cold, clear water) is overrunning the already rampant odors of plastic and astringent. The tape recorder is where he thought it would be, at the table by his side; his breathing is terribly gentle and his eyes are closed, even though they both know he isn't sleeping. There is no nurse in the room. It is a small hospital. If they press the button on Minato's bedside, one will arrive in time.
But neither of them will.
Itachi is quiet by nature and so sighs to himself and goes about tidying things: he takes a small vase full of sunflowers (a gift from the Uzumaki family) and replaces the water in it; he examines and straightens two drawings - professional level - and a poem taped to Minato's window (gifts from Rin, Kakashi, and Obito); he takes a dufflebag from the corner, from the days Minato came here thinking that he would leave after a week at most, and unzips it, and carefully folds the clothing haphazardly tossed there (many of them gifts from Mikoto, Fugaku, Kuzunoha, or Shisui).
But Itachi has not brought a gift.
Minato's voice is much weaker than he remembers. "Are you always this domestic when you're mourning?"
"I'm not mourning." Itachi empties his water in the sink and pours him another glass from the plastic pitcher near his bed. "Mourning now would be presumptive and unnecessary. Drink this."
Minato takes it but his eyes never leave Itachi's face. "Are you going to mourn me when I die?"
"No." Itachi watches him expressionlessly. Minato sips his water and smiles almost-fondly.
"You're so stubborn."
"If you die," Itachi says, "I'll never forgive you."
"She wasn't lying, was she...? You don't like death. You hate pain, watching people die." Minato sets the water aside. "You're a pacifist."
"You're an idiot."
"You really won't forgive me will you?"
"I keep my word to you unfailingly, most especially when I say things that I know you find unpleasant."
"Do you think Shisui will?"
The question is startling, but only to a person without Itachi's steel resolve. "Shisui has already forgiven you." He sits down on the bed and feels Minato's thinning legs against the base of his spine. "She forgives you so much and so often that she has no mercy and no forgiveness left for anyone else." He stares at the tape recorder. He will not look at Minato, and it is not because he is afraid, but because he does not want to. He stares at the tape recorder knowing exactly what it really is and Minato follows his line of sight.
"I need you to take it with you."
"I won't."
"Promise me, Itachi."
Itachi shakes his head adamantly. The movement is sharp. "I won't," he says again. (He's unable to remove his eyes from the device.) Minato curls his fingers around Itachi's small hand where it is clenched in the bedclothes.
"Promise me you'll take care of her."
"Take care of her yourself."
Minato's eyes are devastatingly vague and Itachi glares back icily, as if he is more put out by Minato's loss of fire than by his dying.
"Promise me. This is the last wound I deal to you."
"It is the fatal one." Itachi stares unwaveringly at him before parting their hands - he stares at him, memorizes irrevocably the texture of his face before deciding that this is not the way he wants to remember him. He is not even sure he wants to remember him at all.
He presses his lips to Minato's forehead to be sportsmanlike. (So that Minato can die with the taste of Shisui in his mouth.)
I promise you.
"I'm sorry," Minato says. He sounds as if he means it.
"I'm never going to forgive you," Itachi says softly. He stands up and feels emptier than when he arrived, which he isn't entirely sure is possible. He looks back and then looks at the door and resolves never to look back at this man again. The tape recorder is in his hand.
"This will be the very last time you see me,"
(echoing-)
"even if it is not the very last time I see you."
(So long.
And thanks for all the fish.)
His best friend is waiting for him outside, Black Mamba skin gleaming in the lamplight, smoking a cigarette. Itachi doesn't greet him at all, just goes to stand beside against the wall. Kisame tilts his head back and blows a perfect smoke ring and a tiny white moth darts through it just before it clears the top of the hospital building. He turns to him, examining his ivory face.
"You look dead."
"How ironic." He keeps his hands in his pockets.
Kisame watches him carefully. "You aren't going to call her?"
Itachi doesn't move and doesn't look at him. "There's no reason to." Kisame sighs (he always sounds like he's laughing, somehow) and shakes ash onto the concrete.
"You still want to marry her?"
"I'd rather marry you."
"I'm not really the marrying type, though I guess I appreciate the sentiment." He stares out into the parking lot, pale eyes darting around the light of the streetlamps before he looks Itachi over again. "...you really aren't going to call her? You think she already knows? Some women have that thing, you know. Where they can sense stuff like that."
Itachi turns his head, looks past Kisame to a moth that is batting it's furry wings on the wall beside his friend's temple. He stares at it for a long time before snatching Kisame's cigarette from his chalky brown fingers. He is poised, a dagger, ready.
"She knew."
And he still can't do it. He knows already that watching it die would wrench him open. He sighs frustratedly, hands Kisame his cigarette back, retires further from the wall, walking back towards his car. Kisame follows him, apparently unfazed by his uncharacteristic violence. "Knew what?"
"That I was his Reaper," Itachi says, seriously.
Kisame puts the cigarette back in his mouth.
"You can't save everyone, Itachi."
Itachi unlocks his car.
"One of many things I've never tried."
Author: the-lady-lamb
Genre: Naruto
Sub-genre: Angst/Romance
Summary: Minato isn't gone yet, and Itachi isn't here to give him permission to leave. Very AU. A smidgeon of shounen ai with a lot of shoujo elements mixed in.
Rated: PG for implied character death.
Author's Notes: Another one for yukari_rin - this one is a full-fledged response to her beautiful, beautiful piece Last Words, which brought my Itachi!muse back to life. This is just my version of how things may have transpired; don't take me at face value, especially since this is my own fic and was not coordinated with yukari_rin . I'm just using the situation to my own ends. Shisui's a chick, Itachi's a teenager, Minato's dying, Kisame's black, Konoha's a tiny town in the midwest. ...don't ask about that last one.
Reaper
Monster
How should I feel
Creatures lie here
Looking through the window
- "Monster", Meg & Dia
There is nothing to be placated - Namikaze Minato is not being crushed beneath the thumb of some oppressive god - and so he brings no gift to the hospital with him. It is the very same hospital where he was born (Konoha is a very small town for all it's boasting) and he takes his time walking through the separate wards, one by one, and ascends the flight of stairs to the blond's room.
Shisui has just left and he knows she has because it smells like her - her scent (a mixture of rose tea and cold, clear water) is overrunning the already rampant odors of plastic and astringent. The tape recorder is where he thought it would be, at the table by his side; his breathing is terribly gentle and his eyes are closed, even though they both know he isn't sleeping. There is no nurse in the room. It is a small hospital. If they press the button on Minato's bedside, one will arrive in time.
But neither of them will.
Itachi is quiet by nature and so sighs to himself and goes about tidying things: he takes a small vase full of sunflowers (a gift from the Uzumaki family) and replaces the water in it; he examines and straightens two drawings - professional level - and a poem taped to Minato's window (gifts from Rin, Kakashi, and Obito); he takes a dufflebag from the corner, from the days Minato came here thinking that he would leave after a week at most, and unzips it, and carefully folds the clothing haphazardly tossed there (many of them gifts from Mikoto, Fugaku, Kuzunoha, or Shisui).
But Itachi has not brought a gift.
Minato's voice is much weaker than he remembers. "Are you always this domestic when you're mourning?"
"I'm not mourning." Itachi empties his water in the sink and pours him another glass from the plastic pitcher near his bed. "Mourning now would be presumptive and unnecessary. Drink this."
Minato takes it but his eyes never leave Itachi's face. "Are you going to mourn me when I die?"
"No." Itachi watches him expressionlessly. Minato sips his water and smiles almost-fondly.
"You're so stubborn."
"If you die," Itachi says, "I'll never forgive you."
"She wasn't lying, was she...? You don't like death. You hate pain, watching people die." Minato sets the water aside. "You're a pacifist."
"You're an idiot."
"You really won't forgive me will you?"
"I keep my word to you unfailingly, most especially when I say things that I know you find unpleasant."
"Do you think Shisui will?"
The question is startling, but only to a person without Itachi's steel resolve. "Shisui has already forgiven you." He sits down on the bed and feels Minato's thinning legs against the base of his spine. "She forgives you so much and so often that she has no mercy and no forgiveness left for anyone else." He stares at the tape recorder. He will not look at Minato, and it is not because he is afraid, but because he does not want to. He stares at the tape recorder knowing exactly what it really is and Minato follows his line of sight.
"I need you to take it with you."
"I won't."
"Promise me, Itachi."
Itachi shakes his head adamantly. The movement is sharp. "I won't," he says again. (He's unable to remove his eyes from the device.) Minato curls his fingers around Itachi's small hand where it is clenched in the bedclothes.
"Promise me you'll take care of her."
"Take care of her yourself."
Minato's eyes are devastatingly vague and Itachi glares back icily, as if he is more put out by Minato's loss of fire than by his dying.
"Promise me. This is the last wound I deal to you."
"It is the fatal one." Itachi stares unwaveringly at him before parting their hands - he stares at him, memorizes irrevocably the texture of his face before deciding that this is not the way he wants to remember him. He is not even sure he wants to remember him at all.
He presses his lips to Minato's forehead to be sportsmanlike. (So that Minato can die with the taste of Shisui in his mouth.)
I promise you.
"I'm sorry," Minato says. He sounds as if he means it.
"I'm never going to forgive you," Itachi says softly. He stands up and feels emptier than when he arrived, which he isn't entirely sure is possible. He looks back and then looks at the door and resolves never to look back at this man again. The tape recorder is in his hand.
"This will be the very last time you see me,"
(echoing-)
"even if it is not the very last time I see you."
(So long.
And thanks for all the fish.)
His best friend is waiting for him outside, Black Mamba skin gleaming in the lamplight, smoking a cigarette. Itachi doesn't greet him at all, just goes to stand beside against the wall. Kisame tilts his head back and blows a perfect smoke ring and a tiny white moth darts through it just before it clears the top of the hospital building. He turns to him, examining his ivory face.
"You look dead."
"How ironic." He keeps his hands in his pockets.
Kisame watches him carefully. "You aren't going to call her?"
Itachi doesn't move and doesn't look at him. "There's no reason to." Kisame sighs (he always sounds like he's laughing, somehow) and shakes ash onto the concrete.
"You still want to marry her?"
"I'd rather marry you."
"I'm not really the marrying type, though I guess I appreciate the sentiment." He stares out into the parking lot, pale eyes darting around the light of the streetlamps before he looks Itachi over again. "...you really aren't going to call her? You think she already knows? Some women have that thing, you know. Where they can sense stuff like that."
Itachi turns his head, looks past Kisame to a moth that is batting it's furry wings on the wall beside his friend's temple. He stares at it for a long time before snatching Kisame's cigarette from his chalky brown fingers. He is poised, a dagger, ready.
"She knew."
And he still can't do it. He knows already that watching it die would wrench him open. He sighs frustratedly, hands Kisame his cigarette back, retires further from the wall, walking back towards his car. Kisame follows him, apparently unfazed by his uncharacteristic violence. "Knew what?"
"That I was his Reaper," Itachi says, seriously.
Kisame puts the cigarette back in his mouth.
"You can't save everyone, Itachi."
Itachi unlocks his car.
"One of many things I've never tried."