one_long_mission | [Open] Tell me something I don't know...

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[Open] Tell me something I don't know...

Blue skies this morning, cloudless and sharp, the color intense enough to cut. Maybe it was an odd metaphor for the sky, but that was how it felt. He'd slipped out for a breath of air in a quiet moment, enjoying a sudden burst of solitude -- no one was around, this close to the edge of the village, this far from the centers of habitation, and he liked it that way.

He turned away from his contemplation of the sky, watching the edges of the trees that had yet to start budding properly, still winter as far as they were concerned. Good for them. The trees that budded too early suffered for their preciptiousness. Timing was everything. Wait too long and they missed out, move forward too soon and their blossoms died in late frosts. Such was life. Although he did pity the trees a little - they had no intelligence to calculate their timing, and nature could be cruelly deceptive.

Ah, well. The strong survived.

His attention was caught by the rattling sound of a piece of paper blown by the wind, and by reflex he caught it as it twisted by him. Thick paper, obviously of good quality, and simple words in a dark, dry blood-brown.

You are a monster.

The words were... well, unsurprising. Of course he was a monster. It was the method of delivery that concerned him more; he'd not sensed anyone nearby. Still holding the paper, he turned, looking upwind, alert. It couldn't have come from too far away, not with such accuracy...

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He might not have sensed anyone before, but that didn't mean he wouldn't now, as the man had, in his moment of inattention been spotted, and once very very intent genin was headed right for him. Sensei~!

But the child's approach was noted as Ibiki looked up from his search, the familiar if long-unfelt chakra nudging insistently at his senses. He'd been here long enough to figure out what was going on, even if he'd chosen not to interact with anyone while he was getting his bearings and settling.

And this child... took him back to what he now regarded with some nostalgia as a simpler time. His student, his first student, back when he'd barely been old enough to rate the title of 'sensei'...

"Itachi," he rumbled as the boy drew close. He seemed so much tinier than memory supplied...

He was very much not slowing down either. If anything, the last few steps were a run, and he threw himself at the man, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his face against his belly. "Sensei! You're here!!"

The boy, innocent and enthusiastic as he was, telegraphed his motion quite well enough that it didn't take Ibiki by surprise. Rather, it was with a gently growing sense of wonder that he looked down at Itachi.

Definitely tinier; then again, when Itachi had been this small last, Ibiki himself had still been in his teens, and a fair sight smaller.

The thought was bemused, as he looked down at the little child holding onto him so fearlessly. Most children shied away -- ironically, more shinobi children than civilian, better able to sense the quiet aura of danger and blood that Ibiki radiated to the world. But Itachi was, would always be, the exception to everything.

It felt strange to see him as a child again -- the living reminder of an easier time. But that strangeness was a good one, and he welcomed it, reaching down to rest a gloved hand on Itachi's head.

"Been here a while," he rumbled. "It's good to see you again, kid."

He snuggled into him, peering upward after a long moment. "Sensei, you're taller." He eyed him critically for a long moment. "Nope, still not scary. I don't get why people make that face at me when I say you're my sensei." He rolled his eyes and rested his cheek against him. "Haven't seen an Iruka yet, but you're the first you! Where're you staying? How much older am I for you? I'm eight."

The stream of questions made Ibiki snort in amusement, his scarred face twisting into a halfway grin that made most people flinch. Of course Itachi wouldn't.

"Being a little chatterbox, aren't you?" Rare to get that kind of flow out of Itachi, but then again, he wasn't immune to enthusiasm. "It's been a while, kid. About thirteen years, I'd say." Thirteen intense goddamn years.

"Oh. So you're from Ani-chi's point in time. I don't think he's from the same timeline as me though. Stuff's different from when he was little. Oh! Ohoh! You gotta meet Ani-sama! There's a me who is the Godaime! He's kinda running things here now, and he's nice and not sad and um." He paused, wilting a little. "My heart's broken." He touched his chest. "Physically."

The flow of information was captured and held fast; Ibiki had done enough covert exploration to have identified the different multiples, although he'd had less backstory. Still, the boy's words confirmed a guess he'd made, and he nodded at that.

The words of his health, though, were a new concern. His student had been a somewhat sickly child, although from what he'd gathered, much better off than he had been at a younger age (and then, by all reports, worse again; it had surprised him not a little to hear that Itachi's health had slowly failed during his time in Akatsuki).

"Don't tell me that," he reprimanded Itachi now, shaking his head. "You know better than to advertise your weaknesses." Another sensei might have shown concern, might have coddled the boy. Not him.

He lifted his chin defiantly. "I'm going to tell you because I trust you and want you to know sensei."

"Well, there's your first mistake." He snorted, shaking his head. "Don't trust me. I'll use it against you. Didn't I tell you from the start that I'm not your friend?" He wasn't; he was a teacher, and that meant teaching Itachi to endure the pain that was a shinobi's life.

"I know." He stared up at him, utterly unfrightened. "I don't care, I trust you anyway. You would only do what you feel you have to, so if you use it against me, you felt you had to."

Trusting, so trusting. Ibiki knew how to use trust, how to twist it into a manacle and a whip. But Itachi, in some sense, was right: he did not use his weapons carelessly or only for pleasure.

Still, the boy's ferocious confidence in his good intentions was offputting, and needed to be chastened. Yes, he tried to prepare his students as best he could for their futures, but he was no saint.

"Maybe I'll use it against you because I think a child with a heart condition has no business being a ninja," he countered coolly. "How can any teammate depend on you in an emergency if you might not endure?"

"Here it would have no impact and if you're from the future then it's already taken care of itself, and I don't think you did it." He gave him an amused smile. "Besides, the person who took charge of this village is an older me who was the Godaime sooo... who would you complain to?"

That was a change. The Itachi Ibiki had taught had been a quiet, respectful, sober child; this one, while spirited, was showing enough arrogance that Ibiki had to wonder if he truly was taught by another equivalent to himself.

It was true he wouldn't complain. Why bother? This place was a nowhere.

A lesser man might have struck the boy for his insouciant tone, but Ibiki felt no need to. Instead, he stepped back from Itachi and turned his back on him, deliberate and contemptuous. There were certain tricks to the chakra that would play heavily in the atmosphere around him -- they were not quite genjutsu, but rather a natural effect that shinobi and even more sensitive civilians would subconsciously detect and react to. Now he thickened his chakra in the air between them, creating a sort of wall, an insulating distance -- something that would not be detectible to the conscious senses, but would increase the feeling of separation, create the gut-level perception of a gulf between them, coldness and distance.

"My students keep respectful tongues in their heads," he remarked idly, as though to the trees. "A pity I've not encountered any of them here." A pointed message to Itachi -smart off, and be shunned by the man he evidently felt such affection for.

He stared at him, a soft huff of air escaping him as the overexcited good mood drained right out of him, and he put his hands behind his back. His tone was much quieter.

"I was only pointing out how it wasn't much a weapon to be used here."

He didn't turn around, not yet, but he let the chakra trick fade, the distance between them nothing more than space now.

"You don't give out weapons just because you think they aren't much good," he pointed out. "You don't know the future, or the opportunities I might have to use that information. And you also don't know me. I might not be the same man as your sensei." And with what he knew of his own nature -- it would only take a very little difference to see him completely changed, and not at all for the better.

"If you're not, then you'd have no reason to try to correct the mistake you saw, right?" He continued to watch him, voice soft. "Being afraid of you wouldn't solve anything either."

"You're still making assumptions." Sharp, pointed. To presume that he was effectively the same man as the other world's Ibiki, simply because he had welcomed Itachi and was giving him some level of instruction, was potentially dangerous. Who knew -- even Ibiki himself did not, after all -- where the little variances might be?

This Itachi was not the same as his own; his own Itachi had suffered health problems, yes, but defects of the heart were not among them. And of course, had Itachi not mentioned it, Ibiki would not have known from this brief meeting that the defect existed. The same logic worked in reverse. A minor difference could not be predicted until evidence arose for its existence. And the minor differences could very well be dangerous, even deadly.

"Why do you think people are afraid of me?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his back. If he was going to instruct Itachi, then he would do it thoroughly.

"I know that there are people who find you physically intimidating, mentally dangerous to them, and that you're very effective with use of techniques that can up that but... I don't really understand it." He met his eyes evenly. "I can respect it, and I admit that I'm probably assuming too much, but you're still Ibiki-sensei to me, whether you were actually ever my sensei or not."

"You need to learn," Ibiki told him, disapproving. "You won't get anywhere if you don't understand people. That's the essence of being a shinobi. What good is being a genius if you can't read people, if you don't know what drives them. You won't be able to predict them if you don't understand them."

He shook his head at once. "No! I don't understand why that's frightening! I understand how it works, and why other people think so, but I don't know what it's like sensei." He bit his lower lip. "...I don't think I told you that before."

He snorted. "Primal fear, enhanced by shinobi sensitivity. Perhaps your sensei's falling down on his job." Because he knew he'd made sure that his students knew exactly what that felt like. Sparingly, yes -- not enough that they would live in constant terror of him. That education, he reserved for the operatives he trained for T&I. But Itachi had not escaped his tutelage without discovering what his instincts drove him to when there was nothing to feel but fear.

"I know. You taught me that. I'm good at using it even! But that's not what I mean. I meant the...the thinking fear. Fearing without you being in the room, or having ever seen you before. Fear of a reputation. I can see how it's useful, but I don't understand why it works. What's the point in having fear like that?"

"It's a wise fear," Ibiki answered; Itachi was settling into better behavior now, and he was willing to teach a little. He settled himself comfortably, leaning against a tree, facing the boy. "Fear exists to keep prey alive and safe. To work properly, it has to work before they confront the danger. My reputation tells them that I'm a predator, and so they fear me, as they ought." It was really beautiful, how fear worked -- the most valuable natural impulse, to his way of thinking.

He slumped slightly, sighing. "Has your reputation grown so very big Sensei?"

"Big? No." He shook his head, snorting. "But where it has gone, it's impressive enough to do what I need." There was a fine distinction there. A broad reputation? Not very useful. But a profound one, among the people who had reason to fear him? Excellent.

He looked contemplative at this, studying him. "I can see why you would like that."

"I would hope so," he said in a crisp chide. "It's a simple enough matter. And you'll find it a useful tool, when you build your own. Reputation does a fair part of your work for you."

He nodded once, not even slightly thrilled with the idea... but aware that it would cut down on actual need to harm so... Yes, he could work with that. "And makes it easier all around."

Ibiki wasn't the only one enjoying the solitude. Not too far away, someone else was taking in the crisp morning air. Though it was pretty clear they didn't come all this way by themselves.

The frail man was sitting in a wheelchair, with a blanket draped over his lap. He appeared to be meditating, his eyes were closed and his expression was strangely serene. His face may have been thinner, but it was still very recognizable. And when his eyes opened, revealing a pair of sharingan, suspicions were confirmed.

It was another Itachi. The Ani-chi that the younger Itachi had mentioned.

Ibiki wasn't the type to approach openly, immediately; when he caught sight of the wheelchair-bound figure during his stroll, he remained concealed, observing him for a time. Itachi, yes, another Itachi, this one visibly weak, skin and bones.

The question was, at this point, to approach or not. Until now, Ibiki had held to a firm policy of avoidance for anyone who seemed familiar. But he was beginning to think it was time to relax that -- after all, the little Itachi had found him. Perhaps...

He considered the matter a little while, then quietly emerged from the shadows, taking a few steps toward Itachi but pausing still at something of a distance, simply observing the world around them.

He noticed the other man's presence, and recognized his chakra. You couldn't have served in the ANBU black ops and not recognized Konohagakure's primary torture and interrogation specialist. The same could be said with being a missing nin.

Itachi took a deep breath and stood up. His body moved slowly. His limbs were stiff. But he turned to face Ibiki, at the distance that he was. He didn't dare approach, but he wasn't going to be caught off guard either.

"...I am... not your enemy... here."

Blandly, his expression revealing nothing, Ibiki studied Itachi -- the way he moved, the way he presented himself. There was a lot to be said for body language -- but a lot to be said against relying on it, as well. Major signals could be easy to manipulate, and so he looked past them, to the subtler ones, to the slide of muscle -- the tremble of it, the evidences of strain, the unnatural movements of a body that had lost much of its strength.

"No," he answered calmly. "I don't imagine you are."

Itachi knew his physical condition ensured that he would never be perceived as a threat. Ibiki's answer all but stated it outright. But to many people, he was still the infamous traitor of Konoha, perpetrator of the Uchiha clan massacre and an Akatsuki. And there are two ways with resolving that discrepancy - to live and let live or take advantage of their weakness and kill them.

"I speak the truth..." He added. "This... is a peaceful place..."

"So I've seen," Ibiki agreed, still carefully neutral. In truth, it wasn't the sickness alone that ensured Itachi wasn't a threat -- after all, one didn't need to be physically robust to do quite a bit of damage, as Ibiki well knew.

Besides. He'd seen the reports that quietly came through, via circuitous routes. Technically, they hadn't gone to him, but he had his ways, and people loyal to him. An Akatsuki, yes, but a spy nontheless.

"There doesn't appear to be much to gain here, either," he added thoughtfully; not that that was necessarily true, but for the moment, it was his impression.

Itachi offered a small smile to that. It was expression the other man probably wasn't used to on a man like him. But it was strangely genuine. And that was the most unbelievable part.

"You would be wrong there..." He cautioned Ibiki. "There is a lot to gain here... Peace, happiness, family... A second chance... to do things differently..."

Peace, happiness, family? Well, Ibiki could understand how that would be appealing for Itachi. For himself, though?

He gave a low, wry chuckle. "Hm."

"Say what you will..." Itachi added. "But you will have to find your place here..."

There was, he explained as he slowly sat back down, no real way back out of this world. But that certainly wasn't something Itachi was loosing sleep over. In fact, it was something that relaxed him even more.

"It took me... quite some time to find my place... And it was... a painful process... But that is the past now."

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[Open] Tell me something I don't know...

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