Itachi's blank expression was met with something strained from Shisui. Shisui himself had a tendency to close off, shut himself out from any outside help and bear the burden of all the blame on himself. But he couldn't stand to see Itachi do it. He saw himself in Itachi then, and it infuriated him. There was frustration clawing at him, this need to want to reach out and grab Itachi by the shoulders, shake him till he was almost blind. It was what he sometimes wanted to do to himself, but knew better than to act upon it, aware that the problem was an intangible one.
And at the same time, he wanted to pull Itachi into an embrace, dig his fingers in the other's man's flesh, grip bruising.
But Shisui did neither. he could only stare back at him with that same pained expression.
Watching Itachi sketch the person in question, Shisui pursed his lips. Itachi was giving him the job of finishing up what he started. Itachi was literally handing it over to him. He wasn't going to go back and finish up himself, was he?
Shisui eyed the other while he sketched the woman out.
He could finish what Itachi had started. That went without question. He hadn't formed any prior attachment to the person in question to harbor anything that would hold him back. But even so, it wasn't the village he was worried about yet. It was Itachi.
Would Itachi forgive him for it? Would he come to resent him? Would it only add layers to the guilt he was already trying to fight off? Some of those questions were rhetorical; Shisui already knew the answer to them.
When he was presented with the finished version, Shisui's eyes bled into crimson, spinning lazily as it memorized the face on the parchment. The sketch, now in Shisui's hands, was promptly set on fire, flames licking Ashiko's face almost as though it were a grim predictor of events to come. Shisui felt no pain, the fire dancing in his palm until there was nothing but ashes. He watched in silence as the fire burned holes in the face first, then spread like a disease, engulfing her, and then the space around her-- a slow, ugly crackling following the edges of the charred remains.
For a long moment, there was nothing but ashes sitting in his palm that a sudden gust of wind ripping through the trees swiped off of him.
"What's stopping you?" His voice had lost the strained, tense bite to it.
What was she like, he wanted to know. Why was she special-- so much so that Itachi would choose her over Konoha...
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And at the same time, he wanted to pull Itachi into an embrace, dig his fingers in the other's man's flesh, grip bruising.
But Shisui did neither. he could only stare back at him with that same pained expression.
Watching Itachi sketch the person in question, Shisui pursed his lips. Itachi was giving him the job of finishing up what he started. Itachi was literally handing it over to him. He wasn't going to go back and finish up himself, was he?
Shisui eyed the other while he sketched the woman out.
He could finish what Itachi had started. That went without question. He hadn't formed any prior attachment to the person in question to harbor anything that would hold him back. But even so, it wasn't the village he was worried about yet. It was Itachi.
Would Itachi forgive him for it? Would he come to resent him? Would it only add layers to the guilt he was already trying to fight off? Some of those questions were rhetorical; Shisui already knew the answer to them.
When he was presented with the finished version, Shisui's eyes bled into crimson, spinning lazily as it memorized the face on the parchment. The sketch, now in Shisui's hands, was promptly set on fire, flames licking Ashiko's face almost as though it were a grim predictor of events to come. Shisui felt no pain, the fire dancing in his palm until there was nothing but ashes. He watched in silence as the fire burned holes in the face first, then spread like a disease, engulfing her, and then the space around her-- a slow, ugly crackling following the edges of the charred remains.
For a long moment, there was nothing but ashes sitting in his palm that a sudden gust of wind ripping through the trees swiped off of him.
"What's stopping you?" His voice had lost the strained, tense bite to it.
What was she like, he wanted to know. Why was she special-- so much so that Itachi would choose her over Konoha...