nisacharakj: (summer diorama)
Title: Anchor
Author: [personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Het/Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Characters: Uchiha Shisui, Mitarashi Anko
Summary: An epidemic wipes out most of the young and old population in feudal Japan. Shisui and Anko deal with the loss of their second child.
Warnings: Infant death

They never really went back to the grave stone. They never really went back to the row of jizo lining that part of the cemetery. The number of jizo had grown that summer, all thanks to the famine and the epidemic that swept through the land at the time.

Well, they were still in the throes of it.

It’s only been a month, just barely four weeks, and the pain was still so raw. It came about as numbness at first that continued on for the first two weeks or so. And then it was the emptiness that crept up on them and made itself so painfully conspicuous. Sometimes when it rained outside and the wind was strong and it rattled the wood and shook the trees, Shisui thought he could hear her tiny voice: her weak little cry that, despite how small it was, was a comfort during a time when they always checked in on her just to make sure she was still breathing. Sometimes it sounded so real he would go in and look, slide the fusuma a crack and peer in, only to find the room empty and strewn with scrolls and ink stands and other paperwork. Sometimes the room would just be as empty as ever, tatami mats lining the floor and nothing else placed on it anywhere. Either way, he would be always reminded of her absence and the sound of her little voice would seem clearer in his head than ever that it would refuse to go away for days.

Nanami seemed to catch on as well, though she was still too little to understand what it really was that was going on. All she knew was that she’d had a little sister for all of a week and a half before she ‘went away’ to where the baby cherry blossoms grew. Anko’s clinging to her at all times, the extreme reactions when Nanami would go quiet while she played, when she tripped and fell, when she even looked in the direction of the fire, when she was held so tight at night—Shisui watched as the girl grew to doubt her every move for fear of upsetting her mother. She didn’t understand; she was too little to understand why adults acted the way they did. She didn’t understand why, that instead of crying when they were sad, they thought she would run away or do something horrible to herself. And Anko had closed herself off to Shisui trying to tell her that she was hurting more than helping—and he understood that she didn’t really need that right now.

At dinner that night, he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over her, falling to her obi, now tight around her belly where she’d once carried their daughter. Only just over a month ago. Only just, and they’d been worried and she’d said she felt like something was wrong, but he’d put his hands on her and felt the little kicks from within and he’d told her that it felt stronger than the last time… They had allowed themselves to hope. Too much, apparently. And now it was flat, her obi tied neatly, and inside—empty.

The emptiness crept up on them in all the wrong places.

Dinner was a silent affair, quite unlike how dinner usually was. Neither of them ate much (and they haven’t been, this past month), and Shisui had to reach over a few times to squeeze her hand to remind her she still had food on her plate. Anko would pick at her food in response, uninterested. It was in moments like these that she wished he’d just leave her alone. Closed off to the world in the moment, she just wanted him to shut up and quit worrying about her.

And somewhere in the loud silence came a baby’s cry: a neighbor taking a stroll with their little one, letting it get a bit of fresh air because that’s what they’d been told—to make sure the children got plenty of fresh air to strengthen their lungs. The epidemic weakened them so.

It lasts for all of two minutes, and he doesn’t even notice that he’d been staring past the shoji in the direction of the baby’s voice all that time. When the crying finally fades into a distance where silence creeps over them again, Shisui finally tears his eyes away to look at his plate. “The fish is good.” It’s a bland comment, but it’s the most he’s said all day to her. “If there is more tomorrow, we should make some tomorrow night as well. Before the season is over.”

But all he’s met with is more silence, and Shisui has come to accept it, though he looks up at her as if to try and discern some sort of answer from her expression anyway. …But her expression has nothing to do with fish or dinner or small talk. It’s all pain and anguish and rage and frustration and hurt all mixed into one and trying so hard to break past the stony mask that was trying to shield her away from the reality of it all.

And he notices the dark patches on her kimono, spreading bigger by the second, and Shisui heart nearly shatters. Their child may be no more, but she was still a mother. Her body still refused to accept what her mind was trying so hard to do. It reacted as it normally would, letting her milk down at the mere sound of a baby’s cry. And he knows she hasn’t nursed in all of a month and he knows it probably hurt…

Hurt in all the ways he could only imagine.

His chopsticks clatter against his plate as he scrambles towards her about the same time she abruptly stands and tries to get away. And when he catches her and presses her face to his chest, she’s already screaming—screaming into the folds of his yukata, literally fighting him.

But it’s the first time she’s done this since their baby’s passing and he doesn’t want her to do this alone. He doesn’t want her to do this alone any more.

So he holds on, tighter than ever, his tears making the fabric on the shoulders of her kimono darker.

And her screams have died down to an agonized keening. He can feel her fingers twisting in his yukata, almost tearing as she tugged and pulled and pushed him away all at once. He can feel her try to punch him, pull at his hair, do anything. Anything.

Until she stops.

And she holds him just as tight as he was holding her, holds him as she remembers that he’s the only constant in her life to date that has proved time and again to always, always return to her. An anchor.

And for a fleeting moment she wonders why it never hit her before, why it never came to her in the hours she’d been at her lowest. It’s all it takes. It makes it all the more easier to let it all down, to let the walls down in front of him and pull him into the grief that wracked her.

And she finds that she can let him hold her up… that he wouldn’t let her fall.

nisacharakj: (M/M: Kiss me hard before you go)
Title: Birdsong
Author: [personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Shonen Ai/Friendship/Romance
Rating: G
Characters: Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Shisui
Summary: Itachi cannot stop thinking about how warm Shisui's hand was that first time they shook on a promise of friendship-- and he decides to find out what other parts of him might feel just as warm.
Warnings: --


[1]

Fugaku’s voice eventually trampled his thoughts: “Did you beat your previous time today at practice?” Droll, dry, leaden, predictable-- it seemed so distant, like it always did at dinnertime. Technically, it always seemed so, regardless of what time of day, but dinnertime was when the family sat down to conversation. One-sided, of course: Fugaku did all the talking.

So used to the daily routine since he could remember, Itachi already knew what to say: “Yes.” Monotonous, apathetic, not a hint of wanting his father to prod him some more and drag the subject on for any longer than the time it took for the last grain of rice to remain in his bowl. He knew what came next: praise that was delivered with pithy, thinly veiled braggadocio that was soon followed by a set of instructions that he was expected to follow in the near future. Instructions, plans, dreams that were not his but his father’s: a future already written out for him; a future that he, even at only five, knew that he did not want. It was a future that left him somewhat hollowed-out and wanting—wanting for something more, something to hope for.

And as his thoughts strayed once more while Fugaku spoke in the background, Itachi pointedly made to glance at the hand holding his chopsticks. His right hand—the one that had grasped Shisui’s in a handshake. It was the very same one that had shaken on a friendship that he hadn’t even been given the chance to decide on whether he wanted it or not.

Read more... )
nisacharakj: (rainbow birds)

Title: Nightmares
Author: [personal profile] nisacharakj
Type and Genre: Shonen Ai; Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Shisui
Summary: Sasuke is having a nightmare; Shisui offers comfort.
Warnings: --
Notes: Based on an AU rp in which Sasuke is deaf/blind and also aquaphobic.

His assignment lay forgotten in a slew of papers strewn all over the floor amidst a collection of open books, all dealing with ornithology. The laptop screen was blank, only the orange light on its side blinking in sleep mode. Half reclining, half seated, one leg bent at the knee and the other almost falling off the edge of the couch, Shisui dozed on. His head rested lightly against the backrest of the couch. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to pick the couch to study if he was only going to fall asleep at the drop of a hat; he needed to get things done by the end of week, and since the events that had unfolded six weeks ago, Shisui had been trying not to drown under the backlog of work that had accumulated.

But juggling work and academics in addition to taking care of his traumatized cousin was looking to be a tad more than he could handle. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. But with the number of days he’s gone without food or sleep or even brushing his hair or changing out of his pajamas, it wasn’t looking too good. Today, however, he’d managed to remember to shower and get into clean clothes. After which he had done the laundry and sorted and ironed Sasuke’s clothes—plus the few items of his that he’d managed to wash as well. Perhaps it was because he was clean today that sleep felt like it couldn’t escape him. So much so that Shisui, who was usually alert enough to notice even from all the way in the living room when Sasuke stopped moving around in his bed and finally fell asleep, didn’t really hear him whimper.

Fluff, however—she’d padded over to Shisui and at first, nuzzled his hand. There hadn’t really been any response. Not even when she’d whined, then whined a little louder.

It’s been a minute since. Sasuke’s still stirring in bed, broken syllables leaving his lips every now and then. Fluff needed Shisui awake. Now.

Eventually, the dog reaches up, paws on the edge of the seat as she pressed her cold, wet snout up against Shisui’s cheek.

“Huh what?!” Of course, that does the trick.

He’s wiping his face and the sleep out of his eyes simultaneously, still in a daze as to where he was and what just happened. There’s a yip from the goldie sitting next to him, thumping her tail on the floor. An urgent little yip.

Shisui groans, closing his laptop and letting it slide off his lap and onto the cushions.

“Mrnn. What is it, girl?” And she’s up, paws shuffling on the floor, signaling that he was needed in Sasuke’s room right away—that something wasn’t right with Sasuke.

It’s enough to have Shisui bolting upright. “What’s wrong?” But she’s padding towards the room, and Shisui is all but running.

“Sasuke?”

It’s not like he can hear him, but Shisui doesn’t care right now. All he can see is his little cousin in distress. Still dreaming, but still in distress. Whimpering in his sleep like the worst was happening to him, like he was in some far off place and nothing was happy.

And Shisui knew exactly where he was—back in that river, holding on for dear life as the current tried to take him.

“Sasuke…” It’s murmured as he slides into bed behind him, arms coming to wrap around him in an embrace. Shisui pulls himself closer, an arm across Sasuke’s chest, the gesture protective. “I’m so sorry…”

He was. It had been his fault for leaving Sasuke alone and taking his word that he’d stay put until he returned from class that day. If anything, Shisui should have just taken him to class with him. And now—

The whimpers and the struggles cease, however, and Sasuke reaches up to rest his hands on Shisui’s arm. He isn’t alone, he realizes. He isn’t drowning; he could still breathe. Someone’s got him. Shisui’s got him.

Sasuke feels his cousin nuzzle at his ear, warm breath fanning his neck—enough to lull him back to sleep, his heartbeat slowing down once more to something calmer.

Shisui smiles, mostly in relief, and presses a chaste kiss to the back of Sasuke’s neck. A little gesture that was more familial than anything. –And he reaches his free arm over to Fluff, who settles on the other side and brings her big fluffy head to rest atop Sasuke. Shisui pets it, smiling at her.

“Good girl.”

nisacharakj: (M/F: Hey soul sister)
Title: Economy Class
Author: [personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Het; Humor/Romance
Rating: T
Characters: Uchiha Shisui, Temari
Summary: A flight from Australia to France brings out the best, and the worst, in Shisui and Temari
Warnings: --



Flying economy class was never a pleasant thing on long distance flights to halfway across the world. Flying halfway across the world itself was a chore. But Shisui had no choice. Or well, that’s what he told himself. He didn’t have to fly all the way to France for his vacation. Actually, that was Temari’s idea, so there really was no arguing in the end. She’d said she wanted to go to France, so they were going to France. No questions asked. The downside to this arrangement was that they couldn’t find two seats together, and the man in the middle seemed to be fast asleep from the get-go to even ask him if he’d mind shifting to either the aisle seat or the window one.

Cute under the cut  )
nisacharakj: (M/M: Sweet)
Title: Rain
Author:[personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort
Rating: T
Characters: Senju Hashirama, Uchiha Madara
Summary: Madara turns to alcoholism after the death of his brother; Hashirama confronts him
Warnings: --

It was raining. Always raining.

And Madara hated the rain. He despised the way it snaked down the windows: twining, curving, slithering down the glass, almost obscene in the way its serpentine path covered every crack and crevice, obscuring everything beyond it. He hated the red stains it left— the more he tried to wipe them off, the bloodier it would become. He hated the way the rain plipped down into puddles, lethargic in the way it filled them up after the main showers. He hated the sound that every drop made as it landed, each one ringing loud and clear and almost deafening that even the loudest pleas to make it stop were rendered futile.

But most of all, he loathed how it wouldn’t let him forget: eyeless sockets staring up at the heavens that did nothing but pour down on them, as if mocking their inability to make tears any more. Puddles of water turned into puddles of blood, and Madara had been knee deep in it, shielding the fallen soldier from the incessant downpour. Were they not allowed dignity in death?

Perhaps not, for ever since Izuna, it had always been raining.

 

You are my sunshine-- )

 

[FIC] T.O.D

Apr. 6th, 2013 05:03 am
nisacharakj: (koi)

Title: T.O.D (Time of Death)
Author: [personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Implied Yaoi; Hurt/Comfort/Character death
Rating: T
Characters: Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Itachi
Summary: Itachi's days are numbered and the family awaits the inevitable
Warnings: Character death


Every day heard Shisui’s laughter ringing through the otherwise listless atmosphere that pervaded the house in the wake of the other’s passing—one that came by all too slowly, and yet too soon. For Itachi was only nineteen and Shisui was just making it to twenty one; there was still so much to do and still so much to try. They had hopes and dreams and a perfect future that, according to Shisui, would solve all the world’s problems—but time. Time seemed to have an agenda of its own, and all too soon they were left wondering how to make things come around, how to fit between the narrow lines, how to go on.

We've stayed up longer )
nisacharakj: (dreaming with the faeries)



As if the lack of warmth early that morning wasn’t enough. The first flash made him wince, but it was the second one that woke him up. That, and a little bundle of warmth tucked into his side. Then there was another flash and Shisui squinted into the light, turning his head in the direction of the flash, only to eventually make out Itachi’s face.

“Hey.” Itachi was holding a camera, he noted. And smiling.

“Morning.” Those smiles were so rare, they were always treasured. Perhaps today was a special day and Shisui had forgotten what it was supposed to be? He’d find out eventually, he figured, attempting to turn completely to face Itachi...

Shisui stopped.

Itachi smiled wider.

And Shisui was grinning from ear to ear.

“Why hello there, little man~” So he hadn’t forgotten Sasuke’s birthday after all.

Far from it.

Instead, tucked into his side was little Nao, all of three and a half months old, rather sleepy but also in the mood for an imaginary bicycle ride, what with those chubby little legs kicking up the blankets as they pushed imaginary pedals.

Nao cooed, and Shisui leaned in, peppering that rosy face with kisses till little hands came to grab his face and hold it there, regardless of all that early morning stubble that might have hurt them. Nao thought Shisui’s nose was tasty, and Shisui chuckled. The camera flashed again, and Itachi joined in the laughter.

There were more kisses, and Shisui took a moment to tickle that tummy. The cutest little squeal of laughter erupted then, and chubby legs kicked in the air. The camera flashed once more and Itachi rose from his spot, no longer kneeling by the bed, but sitting on it right next to their little bundle of cute. Shisui was already blowing raspberries on that little tummy and Nao would flail and laugh and squeal all at the same time.

And then he kicked Shisui in the face when his Daddy looked up to grin-- 

The camera flashed again and Nao blinked, little toes experimentally digging their way into Shisui’s mouth, trying to part those sealed lips.

It was an effort, and Nao squirmed, those barely-there eyebrows dipping as that little foot tried to pry open Daddy’s mouth. Shiny black eyes looked up to Dad for help, but Itachi wasn’t going to budge. “Ah?” Come on Dad, help me out here.

Itachi only smiled, and leaned in to kiss that little nose. Nope, no assistance, little man.

And so Nao tried harder, the tips of those tiny toes succeeding somewhat in their attempt to get inside Shisui’s mouth. It was all quiet effort until:

“….OMnomnomnommMM~!”

--And another squeal erupted in response as Shisui pretended to gobble up that little foot.

There was another flash, and more laughter.

Itachi had plenty of precious memories in this morning's collection to send home to Mikoto that weekend.

nisacharakj: (dreaming with the faeries)

"That's warm enough." His fingers leave the surface, wet and shaking droplets off them. She coos and reaches out for the water with her little hand, perched in the safety of her Daddy's arms.

When he stands she spots the bright yellow duck in the corner of the bath, sat next to the big orange starfish. "Peep peep!" He laughs, nuzzling her soft curls and gingerly steps in over the wall of the tub, holding onto her tightly lest either one should slip and fall.

The water's barely up to his ankles, but it rises when he settles in. She slips down from his grip and slides down his chest, taking a moment to free her foot from his swim shorts. She crawls over to where his feet touch the other end of the tub and reaches for her toys. All it takes is an excited little yank to send the duckies and the fishies tumbling into the water with a splash.

He laughs some more, wetting her shoulders with water from his cupped hands. The ducky squeaks, and she turns to look at him, sending him a single-toothed grin. He smiles back, and sends her a kiss. She sends him one too, then hugs that duck.

Her Daddy pulls her back to him where he can clean her face. There are protests when he cleans her nose, and she screws her eyes shut when the water rains down on her curls and into her face. He does his best to wipe anything that tries to get in her nose, just so she wouldn't breathe it in. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" A smile is his reward, and he kisses her wet hair.

Bath time with Daddy was always fun. He'd pretend he was Godzilla trying to eat her ducky, and she would squeal in terror and laughter, all at the same time. He had to catch her every time she slipped en route her escape from the mighty Godzilla, each one of those catches ending in a raspberry to her tummy and more giggles.

And sometime later she would crawl up to him and shower him with kisses. "Dadadada~" He holds her close, then presses a kiss to her forehead. "Hn?"

Then there is that look— The one where she puts that little finger in her mouth and smiles like a kitten about to pounce on the fish in the bowl. "Pee~ pee~"

It is too late when Shisui lifts her out of the water.

"You little rascal," he mumbles, shaking his head, his baby girl still in mid-air as he holds her up. She kicks her legs, giggling, the duck squeaking whenever she tightened her hold on it.

"Itachi!!!"

…He can hear the distant hum of the vacuum cleaner turn off. Then: footsteps. "What now?"

"She did it again."

That face she sends her Dad only convinces him of her naughty little misdeed. But despite all that, he'd break into a smile and take her from her Daddy to seat her in the sink. "Little trouble maker." It is murmured into her hair soon after he kisses those wet locks.

Shisui kisses his shoulder in passing, out to get a clean sponge from the closet.
nisacharakj: (Default)
Title: Memento
Author[personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Implied Yaoi; Hurt/Comfort/Character death
Rating: T
Characters: Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Itachi 
Summary: Shisui was always putting himself in front of others, and now Itachi has to pay for it
Warnings: Character death



It was several seconds after the shot rang that Itachi felt time do a double take and come to a jarring halt.

Shisui had fallen to his knees.

Itachi could count the number of seconds that passed in that moment. But if he stood there counting, he would have counted forever.

Shisui's lips part, as if to speak. To say something. Call out for Itachi, perhaps. But it isn't words that come out.

Words didn't bleed like that.

Itachi holds him up before he hits the ground completely.

When he rolls him over, Shisui is shaking. Itachi's fingers are lost in crimson. He'd worn his brown coat when he'd stepped out of the house, Itachi remembered distinctly. But chest down there was not a speck of brown anymore.

And Shisui's eyes are red.

Lips quivering, spouting more blood, Shisui brings a shaking hand up to Itachi's, pressing something cold into it. Something he'd meant to give Itachi a long time ago. His breath comes out in shaky clouds of cold air.

....Soon those red eyes begin to fade to black, bleeding into obsidian, receding into an abyss. He feels something cold on his cheek, like raindrops – except they are not raindrops, but something much saltier.

Itachi wipes his eyes, smearing them with red as he watches the stars reflect perfectly in Shisui's eyes.

Shisui has stopped shaking.

And when he leaves, he takes Itachi with him.


....Years later, Itachi would still touch that necklace. He would still open his eyes in the middle of the night when Shisui sat on the end of his bed. He would stare into those eyes for an eternity until Shisui would crawl over him, that smile on his lips... That secret smile only Itachi knew.

And it would still feel warm when he held him like that. It still felt real. He could still feel Shisui inside him, around him, beside him.... Watching over him.


When Itachi looked up at the stars, he knew he was looking into Shisui's eyes again.

[FIC] Bacon

Jul. 1st, 2012 10:53 am
nisacharakj: (Default)
Title: Bacon
Author[personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Yaoi; Romance/Fluff
Rating: G
Characters: Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Shisui
Summary: Guess who's hungry?

For [personal profile] olliegami 



You left again. I was cold and the bed was empty. I sort of had plans on being a grump for the rest of the day, but is that you in the kitchen right now? Are we having bacon?  "Mm, morning."

Still in those pink boxers, mm? "Morning."

You'd rather see me naked? "Watcha making?"  That's a deep pan. So we're not having bacon?  

The windows are wide open, and it's a Sunday. Not that I'd mind, though. "Porridge." No, not bacon. I'm boiling water.

But… the bacon? "Are you sick?"

"No…"

Here, let me give you a kiss, perhaps you'd change your mind. "I love you."

…See that? That is a pinch of salt going in the water. No, there will be no bacon. "I love you too."

No? What if I stuck my tongue in here, like this? "Nn—" Your ear is so cute~

Ah-! You cheat… "Shisui."

"Mm?" Have I convinced you yet?

"Get me the bacon." Perhaps.

You're the best, Itachi~

"And a pan." And wipe that grin off your face.
nisacharakj: (koi)
Title: The River Shall Keep This Friend
Author[personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Friendship
Rating: T
Characters: Itachi, Shisui
Summary: Self-sacrifice… a nameless shinobi who protects peace from within its shadow; Shisui's final moments
Warnings: Character death



Unsure steps took them to the Nakano River that night, Itachi holding him by the elbow, his grip almost talon-like against the other's arm. When Shisui asks him what it looked like, Itachi's voice carries in whispers like the wind through the rushes around them: "There is nothing to see." …For on a night like this, when even the light of the moon refused to shine down on them, Konoha was pitch black, save for the soft glow of lanterns in the distance. But the river-- The river was ominously quiet, patient, little waves lapping over each other. If one listened carefully, it was as if she were calling, ever so softly over the gentle breeze that carried through their hair.

When his feet touched that cold wetness, Shisui almost stepped back onto the bank. A moment of indecision: a moment he quickly recovered from. Itachi's hand on his chest held him steady as he slipped in a little deeper now, water lapping the skin around his ankles, and very soon, his shins. Darkness circling those legs that once gave him the title Shunshin no Shisui, eager to pull him in.

So eager…

She may be quiet tonight, but the Nakano was greedy.

She always had been.

Shisui nodded, walking further into the water, the water now licking his knees. Itachi's grip was tight around him, and Shisui chuckled. "Please remember to let me go, Itachi…"

He didn't have to see it to know, was silently thankful that he had no eyes to confirm it. The way those fingers curled in the front of his shirt, gripping fabric tight—the whispers on the wind were louder here, but Shisui knew Itachi was crying.

He stepped further into the Nakano, until his chest felt the iciness of her unforgiving waters. Fingers skimmed the water 'neath him, holding on to nothing, tips quickly becoming numb. If he was shaking, it was only because it was so cold.

Itachi pulled him close when he felt Shisui's knees give way, that curly mop of hair resting against the arm that held on to Shisui's shoulders. Itachi's free hand stayed on Shisui's chest, his heart beat steady as a drum under the ice. The grip on Shisui's shoulder tightened, and it took the younger one all his will to lower his friend into the water. Itachi couldn't bear to look at him, but he felt cold hands grip his own under the water, and it was only natural for his eyes to wander over to Shisui's face. He didn't need moonlight to tell that Shisui was smiling.

Water lapping the sides of his face, his hair waving through the ripples like short kelp, Shisui spoke again. Whispers on the waves…

"My body is merely a vessel. Someday… we will all have to let ours go. My eyes—they held the power of the gods, but I am no god, Itachi. I do not wish to be a tool. I do not wish to be bound by the laws that govern the shinobi world and live to see the people I love suffer under the hands of an unworthy god. But my spirit… " Itachi felt the grip on his hand tighten then. "I will not die, dear brother. For as long as the Will of Fire burns, I will not die. Do not think of me as dead."

Itachi nodded dumbly, tears raining down on the water that was so eager to take the other. It made sense. Shisui made perfect sense, and he had agreed to this weeks ago when the other had first mentioned it to him. But now, the moment was here, and Shisui was slipping in his arms. The river seemed more eager than when they had started out, and Itachi opened his mouth to cry out, beg for more time. Just a minute, a second, a moment longer.

"Itachi… Remember your promise." Whispers on the waves… And when he looked down, Shisui was still smiling.

…Smiling even as the water completely covered him, and Itachi sobbed, begging for time, begging for a way out, begging silently.

When Shisui jerked, he held him down. Let the other grip onto him any which way he wanted, let him tear at skin or pull his arm out of his socket. Bubbles rose to the surface, kicks broke out and splashed around them—Now Itachi wished that it would all be over. Fingers gripped those curls under water.

It felt like hours, but the Nakano was quiet again. The water around them was once more still. Itachi dare not look into the water then, but he had to pry Shisui's frozen fingers away from his own. His chest heaved with the breath that he took later, turning, eventually, to look at his friend. Ashen under the water, Shisui's lips were still twitched into a smile that was almost not there.

That was enough to let him go…

And he watched as Konoha claimed yet another shinobi.

Itachi… Remember your promise.


-----

Whispers on the wind, whispers on the waves. The reflection in the still waters still smile back at him. The fire in Naruto's blue eyes remind him once more, and he tells Shisui, with utmost conviction: "Soon, brother."

Naruto can only wonder why Itachi looks at him like that.

…And the Nakano babbles and laughs, waiting. Waiting to be set free, waiting for a reunion, waiting for a promise fulfilled.
nisacharakj: (M/M: Kiss me hard before you go)
Title: Waking Dreams
Author[personal profile] nisacharakj 
Type and Genre: Yaoi; Romance
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Kakashi/Shisui
Summary: Shisui's got quite a few vivid dreams to keep him going during Kakashi's absence~
Warnings: Explicit things, crack

For [personal profile] chidorimaster <3


They say the raven can be trained to sing... )

"I need to change our sheets." His raven presses his face to the pillow right next to his. "But they smell so much like you."
nisacharakj: (Default)
Title: Blasphemy
Fandom: Naruto (ofc~)
Rating: PG (I think XD)
Genre: drama/romance (not really)
Characters: Kakuzu, Hidan

For [livejournal.com profile] shirohime777 who gave me the idea one day when we were sitting around doing nothing and complaining to each other about how bored we were~ Ah and should I continue into the gory details...? |: It's my first time writing up an intro to smut. Eh. I feel like I failed lol. Writing Hidan has suddenly become pretty hard for me now that I am so used to [livejournal.com profile] zoe2001135 's version of him D:

However, there is another part planned, where Hidan gets into the conversion process. Gore, anyone...? |8

I also have work tomorrow. WTF am I doing? I should be in bed. 

x.X.X.x


Blasphemy; parte 1~ )
.
.
D8''
nisacharakj: (freedom)

Title: Fields of Gold
Rating: K
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Kakuzu/Hidan
Genre: Spiritual/Friendship
A/N: This little story takes place after Kakuzu and Hidan's death. So err yes, they're dead... C: I was listening to Sting's version of Fields of Gold when the idea for KakuHida death fic came to mind haha (although this story is probably as far from the song as you can get XD ).
 

x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x
 

Kakuzu sweeps his hand against the stalks of cat's tail for the fiftieth time that day. He watches the frizzy flowers narrow as they sift between his fingers, fanning out back to their original form as they leave his grip.

His face contorts into a pained scowl. Realization sets in. The result is the same: nothing.

Nothing.

He can feel nothing. Touch nothing. Taste nothing.

Yet his eyes are able to see into the eternal gold-orange vista that stretches before him. He can hear the wings of the butterflies and the song of the birds. But that is all. He can still feel nothing. Touch nothing. Taste nothing.

He rises, angry at the cruelty of the way things have come to be. Once he had been part of this world, able to feel the warmth of the summer sun on his brown skin. Now he was merely an observer.

He drags his feet in the tangle of weeds. He might as well go... somewhere. Anywhere. It didn't really matter, did it? As long as he kept going. As long as there is something to do.

So he walks – into the embrace of the burning sun whose warmth he cannot feel.

But Kakuzu remembers. He remembers a century's worth of sunrise and sundown. He remembers the distinct brush of a lover's lips caressing his own, fingers entwined in long hair, chests rising and falling, skin plastered to skin, bodies moving as if in a dance. He remembers the biting winds and the searing deserts, warm blood spilling in rivulets down his hands, the smell of copper poisoning the air. He remembers the taste of peaches and sweet potatoes, and the majestic song of the Takigakure falls as they hit the earth from their heavenly abodes.

A century of memories. How could he forget?

Hesitantly, he turns back. He doesn't wish to see it, but he needs to confirm it. He needs to confirm his existence. Or lack of…?

The stalks bow lightly in the wind: untouched, unbent, undisturbed. The patch of weeds on which he was sitting just moments ago cannot be distinguished from the rest of the field. There is no sign of interference, no indication that somebody - that he - had been there. It was as though he never existed.

Kakuzu sighs. The world seems to constantly want to prove his non-existence.

He realizes that he has a century's worth of memories with no way to prove it. He does not belong here, in the world of the living. And he cannot make new memories because whatever he does now will have no effect on the world. He is nothing…

So he walks.

Because there is nothing better to do.

-

-

-

Hidan stands at the edge of the boulder, pondering the idea of falling. Will it hurt? He pushes his chin forward, leaning slightly over the edge. The drop is sharp; about six hundred feet of vertical rock ending in a valley of jagged white stone riddling a carpet of tall grass.

He bends down cautiously and picks up a stray rock. Shifting slowly, he lies on his stomach and stretches out his arm, holding the rock over the edge of the boulder. He drops it.

Violet eyes, gleaming with familiar expectation, trail the downward course of the object as it plunges into the vertical drop. He holds his breath, timing the fall.

One… Two… Three... Four... Five... Six… –

There is a distinct crunch as hard earth shatters against the stone pikes below. He grins.

He sits on his haunches before rising fully, straightening; taking in the glory of the afternoon sun. Of course he cannot feel it. (The sun's rays, that is…)

He is teetering on the edge of the boulder once again, toes curling in anticipation, adrenaline rushing to his head as he lifts his arms to the sides in preparation for the plunge. This is it. He sucks in a deep breath, delirium rising already.

He is falling. He watches the ground loom in closer and closer as he nears his destination. Warm air presses hard against his chest as his body succumbs to gravity. And then… impact.

His pale face shatters against the jagged rocks below. It hurts (like hell) but only for a moment, because soon everything is just black. There is blood – lots of it – trickling down the crude white cones, collecting drop by drop into the fragments of skull.

He smiles. I can finally feel the sun again.

But the rock is still there; he knows it. He dares not look down, but he can feel it nudge his toe.

It never left the edge of the boulder. No matter how many times he dropped it. No matter how many times he watched it shatter.

He grits his teeth.

Cruel, cruel world. Cruel fate. "Fuck you, Jashin sama!" he yells into the afternoon blaze.

He drops to his knees. The boulder anticipates his fall. But how could he? He has already fallen and cannot get up.

His forehead touches the ground. I am dead. Turning his head to a side, he notices a yellow butterfly lightly perch itself on the rock he had thrown so many times before. I am dead… and I already want to die…

Hidan weeps in silence.

-

-

-

Kakuzu stands next to the man, watching him with intent green eyes. The man is kneeling as if in prayer… or defeat?

He longs to talk to him. Ask him what he's doing. Ask him what the weather is like. Does he have a family? Where did he come from? Could he tell him what day it is? Did he know where to go? He had so many questions; too many for his own good. But the one that he longed to ask the most was "Can you see me, hear me, feel me?"

How long has it been, Kakuzu wonders, since the last time he spoke to anyone? He can only remember the cold summers and endless winters that seemed to pass before him as if they were merely handfuls of loose sand wafting in the breeze.

Kakuzu looks at the man and doesn't say anything. Spare yourself the disappointment…

Hidan is aware of the other's presence, yet he does not stir. He knows it wouldn't make a difference. Whoever it was that was standing next to him could probably not see him anyway. After all, he was nothing.

But curiosity gets the better of him and he looks in the direction of the other person.

For a moment, violet meets green.

And then…

"You!" Startled voices call out to each other in unison.

"You can see me?" Hidan asks, standing up now.

"… Yes." Kakuzu blinks. He tries to remember.

"Y-you… you can hear me…"

"I can. Can you?"

Hidan eyes the ring on the man's left middle finger. North. "Kakuzu?"

Three. "Hidan…" I remember.

Hidan raises his hand, slowly, as if any sudden movement will shatter the illusion. Curious fingers touch air as they move closer to Kakuzu. "Can you… feel?"Hidan stops, fingertips feeling nothing, yet hopeful.

Kakuzu brings his hand to Hidan's, shaky. Will I feel…?

Dark fingers intertwine with pale ones. Calloused flesh skims over calloused flesh. Fingertips map knuckles; fingernails graze skin.

Kakuzu smiles. Hidan squeezes his hand tighter.

-

-

-

And so they walk – into the embrace of the setting sun whose warmth they cannot feel.

But that isn't going to be a problem now is it?


x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x
~fin~

 

 

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