Archive of Our Own

Do you hear me? Figures. Figures you would hear me only now—Wake up—Wake up—What is my name?—What is your name?—W A K E   U P —

He wakes up. Does he—Who—He is—He can’t see—He can’t see—

“Interesting.”

What? Think, Shinobi. Think. You are alive. You are—rescued? There was a fight, a fight you lost? Or won? A bit of both. It usually is. Who—

Idiot—Idiot—Idiot—

Alright, so he’s—insane? Seems like the most likely option. Is he hallucinating both voices? The vaguely female-sounding one, yeah, that’s definitely not real. Is it an illusion? It doesn’t feel like it. He knows illusions. He should, shouldn’t he? He was an—An Uchiha? No, no, that doesn’t sound right. He was—A Clan-brat? Noble Clan? That, yeah, that sounds better. A Noble Clan of—Illusionists? No, no, it was Kenjutsu, wasn’t it? Kenjutsu and—fire? Something with fire?

“What to do with you, is the question? I could take you to Oto but Uchiha tend to be more trouble than they’re worth. Especially eye-less Uchiha. Then again—that is not Chakra that I know. What did he do to you, little boy? What secrets do you hold?”

Okay, okay. That’s okay. That doesn’t sound like his subconscious. He’s never heard those speech patterns in his life, he’s pretty sure. The content reminds him of someone, though. A—scientist? Assassin? Blonde, wasn’t he? Ash-blond and slippery—

—Idiot—Idiot—Idiot—

Annoying. Why is his subconscious insulting him? Surely it would be on his side? Some sympathy, maybe? He just—

Yes, you did, didn’t you? Again, wasn’t it? You’re two for two, you mindless cretin! You can’t resist a noble sacrifice, can you, you—

So that’s odd. He doesn’t know about mind breaks, but he doesn’t think the voices in his head should interact with him? Honestly, this sounds more along the lines of the Yamanaka. Yamanaka? Who—

“Oto it is. Why not? Things have been growing rather dull in recent years. Why not see what can be done about it.”

Shisui wakes up again sometime later, in a bed. It is Shisui, isn’t it?

Useless, useless—

Okay, so this is becoming concerning. He’s not useless. He is very useful, to so many different people—

Damn you, why can’t you—I waited for so long—For once, can’t you t h i n k?

“Good afternoon.”

He flinches, retreats as back as he can. That’s a man, a trained Shinobi with Chakra too big for him to even gauge. Shinobi? Wasn’t it Shinigami? Wait.

“Good afternoon.” Better start there. “I—Seem to be experiencing some sort of psychotic episode. If you are—If you know me, I apologize, but—”

“Interesting. What are your symptoms?”

Very informative. Whoever this voice is, it’s not friendly. Not an enemy either, he doesn’t think. Enemies don’t leave Shinobi alive. Shinobi? His migraine grows by a full degree, against all odds. He strangles the wince. Showing weakness is just plain dumb, no matter who or what he is.

“I am confused about my name, origin and species,” he says. Should he smile? His entire head throbs, but it’s worst in the area around his eyes. Around where his eyes had been. That much he knows. “Any information you have would be welcome.”

A laugh, low and—hissy. Intimidating. “You are an Uchiha. A man, a Shinobi from Konohagakure, presumably.”

Only partly true—That is not all you are—Not all—Not—

“Thank you.” Politeness never harmed anybody. “My mind disagrees, but I value your perspective.”

“Oh? What are the points of contention?”

Hm. Should he be honest? It seems a bit naive, but whoever he is, he is pretty pointless isn’t he? Weak, injured, blind and insane—nobody would want to use him, anymore. No, his mind agrees on the fact that he was more or less a supporting character in the bigger picture. He fulfilled his mission, whatever it was. He tries to remember, digs a little deeper. Mistake, mistake, abort.

“Well, are you perchance called Urahara Kisuke? Captain of something called Tenth Division, in Seretei?”

Another laugh, this time slightly more—amused? “No, I am afraid none of those terms rings a bell. I am Orochimaru, of the Orochi Clan. Leader of Otogakure. A pleasure to meet you, Uchiha-san.”

Orochimaru—Orochimaru—He knows that name. An enemy? A really fucking scary nightmare-monster. Obsessed with—Uchiha?

“Um. About a half of me is terrified. Did you, uh. Do this to me?” He doesn’t think that’s true. It doesn’t feel true.

He did not—He did not—You did this to yourself, you unforgivable, miserable idiot—

“I did not. Do you believe me?”

He thinks about it for a moment. Should he believe him?

“Yeah, more or less. I don’t know that is a very useful metric, however. I’m pretty observably insane. Also blind, injured and—with you.”

The man re-settles, he’s pretty sure. That’s the sound of rustling fabric, a whisper of hair rubbing against—linen? Silk? He knows all about long hair, doesn’t he, after Ita—

The strongest jolt of pain yet stabs between temples, this time accompanied by a twist of his heart. A sound escapes, a low, pained whine. He is wholly incapable of stopping it—Itachi—Itachi—Who is—Itachi—

“Interesting. That is a name I know. Uchiha Itachi is a well-renewed prodigy, Heir of the Uchiha Clan.”

He can feel his mind give out, shut down on the screaming hurricane of noise and pain. Uchiha—Itachi—Nejibana—

Finally

“Oh, good, you’re alive. I had wondered.”

Kaien wakes up. Is he—he’s not—blind? He has eyes—He has eyes—He watches the sky, dazed and—

I will never forgive you for this. Never, Kaien. I watched you kill yourself not once, but twice. Never.

Yeah, yeah, that’s fair.

‘I don’t expect you to, dear-heart. I wouldn’t dare. I am pretty stupid when I get scared.’

Never. You had a life, here. A boy who loved you more than life itself. Who depended on you. A chance to live without the burdens of rank. You chose to die. Lie to me, if you dare. It was easier to die, wasn’t it? I should have let you drown, you traitor. I should have let water end your miserable life.

Okay, okay so Nejibana is angrier than he ever thought was possible. Which, yeah, if he watched his soul kill himself not once, but twice, he’d have some feelings to express.

‘I am sorry. I know it’s trite, but I will make it up to you, somehow. I will.’

You will never make it up to me. Never, Kaien. Shisui, I could forgive a little. He was young. But you? Once is a mistake. Twice is a habit. I might let it go, because I love you, but you will never make it up to me.

Fair. That’s fair.

‘I need to—are you with me, lovely? I will need your strength in the coming days.’

I am not the one that runs away. I am with you. Always was, always will. Even when you betray everything you should stand for.

Okay. Okay, he can work with this.

“Apologies, ah, Orochimaru-sama,” he says, forcing through the rasp of his abused throat. Man, but that is one pissed-off Shinobi. Also—wet? “I appear to have caused you some trouble.”

Golden eyes pin him to the ground, wide and manic. He smiles—bares his fangs, really, long and curved. “When I fished out a half-living corpse from a river, I can’t say I expected—any of this. Did you solve the puzzle of your species and identity?”

“Ah. In a matter of speaking. Uchiha Shisui, at your service.”

Orochimaru of the fucking Sanin makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a hiss and a growl. Water drips down his hair and there is no saving that silk robe. “That is not all you are.”

You might as well tell him. Your Reiatsu flooded his home. He took you and ran.

He doesn’t hide his wince. Did he trash Orochimaru’s home? Fucking—

“No,” he says, trying to arrange his facial muscles into a smile. It’s—yeah. It doesn’t go well. Whatever he is now, it’s not a body he knows to work with. “No, that is not all. I—do you believe in reincarnation, Orochimaru-sama?”

“I do now.”

Whoa. Okay. Calm down the dangerous man. Smiling, yeah, is a bad idea. He sits up halfway, propping himself by the elbows.

“Well, there we go. Shiba Kaien, Lieutenant of the Thirteenth, uh, at your service?” Man, but this is awkward. Kaien was a charming bastard, wasn’t he? Shisui too? Shouldn’t he be twice as charismatic now?

“My pleasure. And what is Shiba Kaien? Because you are not a human, anymore. You aren’t even alive. I don’t know what you are, Shiba-san, but the closest thing I know is a Summoning Spirit.”

Huh. Not a bad analogy, really. He died, he’s pretty sure, and was—changed.

You’re something new. This world is not—There is no Seretei, here. You aren’t what you were, anymore. You aren’t a Shinobi either. A mix between the two is my best guess.

“Well, I am not a Summoning Spirit,” he says. Huh. When he smiles reflexively it works out better. “But I am not a man, either. I—don’t know?”

“Guess.”

Hm. Okay. So Orochimaru of the Sanin is on the brink of indiscriminate violence. Best take stock—

Well, he thinks a moment later, desperately trying to hold back the tide of Reiatsu that tries to flood through him. Well.

“Okay, before you come at me with fire and swords, let’s, uh.” What? “Let’s—not?” Well done. “I’m not playing games, I don’t know. I died and merged with my—previous incarnation. That’s everything I have.”

Orochimaru-sama goes through several cycles of meditative focusing. Just in time, Shisui, because the Reiatsu in that sword the Sanin has unsealed just now is really fucking creepy.

It’s got some dimensional properties, I think. It would cut your link to this Universe and send you—somewhere. Dead, presumably.

Good grief.

“Alright,” says the volatile man with the cursed sword of nightmares. “Alright. Start from the beginning, Shiba-san. What happened that left you dying in the Naka?”

“Excellent question, Orochimaru-sama,” he beams, getting his feet under his tiny teenager body. “Let’s talk about one Danzō Shimura and why it is in everyone’s best interest you keep your death-sword away from my soul.”

Every sword is a death sword, you absolute disgrace.

Jeez, everyone’s a critic.

Shisui’s return to Konoha is, as it happens, really fucking fortuitous.

“Easy, easy,” he tries to soothe the weeping teenager clinging to him. “I’m sorry, Ita-chan, I am so sorry. I never should have—I fucked up. I did. I’m here now and I’m not leaving. Not ever.”

“I—Shisui, they—they thought I killed you—Father and mother and the rest of the Clan—They’re keeping Sasuke from me—And, and—And Danzō said—I must kill the Clan, Shisui, I have two days left—”

Deep breaths, Kaien. Deep breaths. So you died for nothing. So the village never meant to honour shit. You don’t need—

I’m sorry, what was that? I seem to hear you’re about to make excuses? They harmed us and ours, Shiba Kaien. Uchiha Shisui. They harmed and lied and killed. There is no excuse. Where is your honour, warrior?

Yeah, yeah.

“Stand back, dear. A bit more, there’s a lamb. Rage through the Seas and Heavens, Nejibana.”

***

Nara shadows don’t work on him, which is very convenient. Neither do the Yamanaka techniques. Akimichi are easy to blast away and Uchiha ninjutsu is absorbed by the small ocean that Nejibana keeps around them in a column that looks to be hundreds of meters high. Hyuuga work with Chakra, and Shisui is more Reiatsu than anything. Too bad. So sad.

“Shimura Danzō,” he shouts, strolling through the village. “Come out, traitor. Come out or I will drown you in the hole you crawled into. I will flood this entire death trap you call a village until you and your rat-ilk come running out. I will scour the earth, drawing out your poison inch by inch. Come and face your death, you faithless wretch.”

Nothing. Of course, there’s nothing. A man as wretched as Shimura would let the entire world drown if it would buy him minutes more to cling to relevancy.

At least the other mortals have stopped wasting our time.

That’s true. The Genin and the Chūnin have evacuated the civilians and the Jōnin and ANBU are the only ones left. His little monologue—very villainous, Shisui, good job—was effective in that respect. Not many care about Shimura of all people, to stand between a Shinigami and his due.

“What is this, Uchiha Shisui,” calls—Sarutobi. Sarutobi the miserable fucking—

“Sarutobi-sama,” he says, injecting all the poison he can into his voice. “What a nice surprise. I come with wonderful news. For once in your tragedy of a political career, you get the opportunity to do the right thing. Your friend, your bosom buddy, your companion in life, one Shimura Danzō had killed me, Shisui Uchiha, a couple of days ago.”

He sends his rapt audience a mocking smile followed by a bow with as many flourishes as he can manage. “He and your other two worms had then blackmailed my Itachi into kinslaying, if he wants his little brother to live.”

The gasps and the bristling Chakra on the sides is a balm on the insane, frothing rage, the manifestation of which is darkening the skies. “No, no, I’m afraid you don’t get to speak. It is my turn now. I died for your sins and your lies and your corruption. That wasn’t enough, was it? You just had to milk the situation. You accused my Itachi of having killed me, his best friend. You traumatized a teenager even further, just so that you can manipulate him into killing his family. Everyone, young and old, civilian or Shinobi. I should cut you down too, now that I think about it. All of you worthless, opportunistic lizards, I should—”

“Shisui—” Who dares—

Your kin calls, Kaien.

Ah. Itachi.

“Yes?” Okay, check yourself, Shiba Kaien, that’s not how you talk to family. “Sorry, ‘m a bit stressed. How can I help you, pumpkin?”

“Uh.” Itachi’s eyes are huge, red-rimmed and terrified. He’s interrupting his Chakra once every ten seconds, apparently checking for illusions. Which is, yes, completely fair, but a bit sad. “Maybe—don’t kill everyone in Konoha? I mean—Shimura-sama, yes, maybe but—Sasuke goes to school here.”

Right. “A few, then?” Deep breaths. “I gotta—Ita-chan, they never even wanted to mend bridges, I see that now. They just didn’t know how they could kill us all. Me, sure, I was dumb. A dumb fucking kid they jumped and murdered. All my life, I bled myself dry to please them, to show my fucking worth. To lead by example, show that we can have peace. That Uchiha are just people, in the end. But you—that was planned, Ita-chan. They wanted to—Your mother. The babies. The old lady who makes flower garlands. Someone’s gotta die for this. They gotta.”

The Inuzuka choose the time to attack, presumably thinking that Shisui is distracted. Nejibana pulps the first ten, red colouring the hurricane howling around them all too briefly. A human body has, what, five litres of blood in them? That’s fifty litres, combined with about ten million that Nejibana is spinning through the air. It gets lost pretty quickly, is the point.

“Do you want to try again?” He passes a look over their audience. “You’re all complicit, as far as I’m concerned. Clans especially. Lie, if you dare. Tell me you didn’t all look the other way while the Uchiha were getting discriminated against. An Uchiha built this cesspool, it would be fitting for an Uchiha to destroy it, would it not? That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, to finally drive one of us past the point of sanity. Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen, now we all get to see what you do against an Uchiha you already killed, that cannot be controlled.”

“Shisui—please.”

Fuck. That’s Itachi. Fuck. You owe him, Kaien. You died in front of this kid. You put your eye in his hands.

“I am here for you, Ita-chan,” he says with all the patience he doesn’t feel. “I will claim Shimura, but if you want, I will keep away from the rest.”

“You are a mad child, and you must not be allowed to continue.” Sarutobi is—Summoning something. Has been for a while. Shisui hasn’t been paying attention, honestly. What—huh, that’s—Reiatsu, isn’t it?

He can’t resist laughing like, well, like a mad child. “The Shinigami? You would think to stop me with a Shinigami?”

Whoever this version is, is, yeah, decently powerful. Has the right aesthetic, at least. A bit flashy, with the horns and the knife and the rest of it, but overall—Yeah, pretty effective.

“The sun darkens and heavens weep, flood the world, Nejibana.”

Shisui killing the Shinigami in full view of the entire population of Konoha’s Shinobi has a few cascading effects. It saves Sarutobi’s life and soul, which Shisui can take or leave, really. It impresses upon them the relative value of getting in Shisui’s way, which is much better. It also releases the soul of one Minato Namikaze.

“Right,” he says, trying not to show that he’s improvising wildly. “Right. I guess that your local Shinigami position has now been, uh. Freed? So—how about it? Do you wanna give it a go?”

Namikaze-sama smiles a gentle smile, and for a moment the image of Unohana Taicho is superimposed over his semi-transparent face. “Do I want to give what a go, Shisui-chan?”

Damn. There goes his cred. There’s not much you can do when the dead guy is A. Already dead and B. Not all that impressed with you, one Uchiha Shisui, a boy who begged him for autographs on at least thirty different occasions.

“The Shinigami stuff. Look, if it’s not you, it’s gonna be me. Do you wanna have a Shinigami with a seething hatred towards Konoha and all of her inhabitants? I don’t think you do. So. You’re already dead, so you can learn. I was a lieutenant before, I trained a lot of kiddies, none of which were geniuses like you are. So.”

“Minato—”

Namikaze-sama snaps his head to their audience so fast, Shisui is reminded of the fact that he is talking to the Yellow Flash. “Shisui-chan raises an interesting point. Do you know that I am spiritually connected to my son? That a part of me—the part that wasn’t rotting in torment in the stomach of the reaper—could watch, helplessly, over my baby. A boy I left in your care. ” Oh boy. That’s one pissed-off spirit. He hasn’t figured out Reiatsu yet, but he will, and there’s nothing this bunch of tulips have to bring against that. “Shisui-chan thinks Konoha deserves a Shinigami who isn’t burdened with a seething hatred towards her and her people. I am working on how we could possibly resolve that conflict, considering we’re short on possible candidates.”

I like him. You should take him. Take him and your kin and go to the Urahara-lookalike.

‘When you’re right, you’re right.' 

“So, I think that we can all agree on one thing. Well, two things. One, I still haven’t drawn and quartered one Shimura Danzō, which is beginning to weigh on me. Two, my Ita-chan and his Sasu-chan deserve a safe, loving environment, where nobody will try to blackmail them into murdering their aunties and baby cousins. So. What’s going to happen is that, once I’m done drawing and quartering Shimura Danzō, I’m going to go have a chat with the Uchiha Elders. I’m sure I can make a compelling case about why it is in their best interest to play ball or fuck right off to Hell. The Uchiha Clan will, if I am not very mistaken, see things my way, and will take our shit and go to a Kage that will not plot to murder us in our beds.”