In the cold of space you find the heat of suns

Spacer crews travel the Far Borders and the Fringe of occupied space, trading. Spacing is an ancient and honourable profession carved out by millenniums. Most spacers start out as fourteen-year-old boys seeking a future. Few survive a decade spacing.

21. Brother

Sasuke’s recognition of Itachi ran deep. It did not matter what Jiraiya said or that Kakashi refused to acknowledge him, he knew it was Itachi. Most of Sasuke wanted to run to him, as he had as a child. A small part whispered warnings. Where had he been for the last nine standards? Why challenge for him? Why did Rin hate him so? Had they really killed Genma?

Seeing Kisame-san released a flood of memories. Unlike Itachi, Kisame-san had not changed. He even called him Sasu-chan. But when Kisame-san said the words, “Please forgive me if I am forced to kill Kakashi-san.” Sasuke’s world shivered and threatened to break.

Kisame-san was the best fighter Uchiha had ever produced. Noone could touch him. Kakashi would not defeat him. Naruto would lose to him. He wanted to run at Itachi, to tell him to stop the challenge, that he would go with him, but Jiraiya would not loose his hold and the Captain was ordering him to stand.

The challenge rolled inexorably forward. Kakashi’s hand was on his arm, taking him towards Naruto.

“Listen to me, Sasuke,” Kakashi said. “You must trust me. I vowed to keep you safe. I cannot hand you over to another crew, whoever they are or whoever they are pretending to be.”

“I know they should not have you,” added Naruto. “You belong with us not them. They smell wrong. They did bad things to Genma.”

Sasuke knew it was true; he belonged with Naruto, with Kakashi and with his crew.

“They will have to kill both of us to get you and then keep you,” Naruto continued. “I go first, Kakashi-sensei.”

They were planning a challenge and rechallenge. Whoever went first died, but this was Kisame so they both died. “But…” objected Sasuke.

“I love you, Sasuke,” Naruto told him, his voice husky with emotion. Sasuke knew that, but Naruto had never said it. Naruto preferred actions to words.

“Naruto?” he begged, but Naruto was Naruto and nothing would keep him from fighting for him, from dying for him.

“Kakashi-sensei, may I wear our plaque?” he asked.

Iruka came and stood beside Sasuke when Naruto went forward to present himself as champion. He was deathly pale and Sasuke was horribly aware that Iruka was also about to lose everything. Perhaps he did not know it yet. Perhaps it was better not to be as certain. Shino had found Naruto’s lockbox, which, typical of Naruto, was unlocked. Shikamaru was waiting with the key for Naruto’s collar. Sasuke opened the lid of the box. It contained the plaque and a scatter of mementos that Naruto had collected since joining the crew. Sasuke lifted the plaque from the box and shut the lid as Naruto walked back to him.

Shikamaru unlocked Naruto’s controller, altered its setting and then handed the collar and key to Sasuke. Naruto and Shikamaru briefly touched foreheads; Sasuke realised that they were saying goodbye. Deep inside, Sasuke screamed denial. Then Shikamaru moved away, taking Iruka with him. They were alone.

Sasuke stepped close to fasten the collar and plaque around Naruto’s neck. Naruto took a deep breath and Sasuke knew that Naruto was scenting him. He stroked Naruto’s skin: tan and warm with its faint suggestion of golden fur. Naruto caught his hand and drew it upwards, turning it to expose the underside of his wrist. The touch of his lips was gentle, gentle like Naruto. Sasuke wanted the moment to last forever.

Only it could not: Naruto had a challenge to answer.

Naruto was fast; he moved so quickly that Sasuke could not decipher one movement before he was into the next. Naruto would dart in, strike and be gone. It was amazing to watch but it was having minimal effect on Kisame; a few superficial cuts from which Kisame bled little. Then Kisame moved. Bones snapped but Naruto escaped and Kisame was bleeding from a slice across his implant.

Sasuke’s heart hammered. Naruto’s left arm was useless: the beginning of the end. During Naruto’s next attack Kisame caught him and bit him on the shoulder. Naruto’s head lolled back and he gave one small whimper. Kisame lifted Naruto above his head. From somewhere, unbidden, came the knowledge that this was the start of Kisame’s signature move; the way he killed.

Naruto helpless and flailing. Kisame positioning himself for the killer blow. Naruto suddenly submissive and still. Fearful blue eyes frantically searching. Their gazes connecting. Sasuke was there for him; there for Naruto. Naruto. I love you, Naruto.

Kisame moved and eye contact was lost. Sasuke was spilled back into reality. He saw Itachi’s face: the revolting spectacle of his pleasure. Sasuke hated this person his brother had become. Loathed him. Utterly.

Then, unbelievably, Naruto was free and twisting though the air. There was the familiar sound of him landing: the sight of him running and leaping. Suddenly, Kisame’s chest was exposed to Naruto’s blade and there was the sound of a knife in flesh. Naruto pushed the knife home and was engulfed by Kisame’s arms.

Kisame on the floor with the hilt of the Naruto’s knife protruding from his chest. Naruto standing: alive.

Rin reached Naruto first in her role as medico. Sasuke was second, his left hand seeking Naruto’s right, their fingers interleaving. Naruto was looking at Kisame’s body.

“He let me win,” he whispered, “so you didn’t have to go with Him.”

They both knew whom Naruto meant by Him: Itachi. Kisame, the most devoted and loyal of Companions, had chosen Sasuke over Itachi. Sasuke was puzzled but discovered he was not surprised. Instead there was the memory of Kisame hiding him during the chaos that was becoming a massacre; making him promise to stay hidden no matter who called him, telling him that bad men could make themselves sound like anyone, even Kisame, even Itachi.

Itachi. What would he do without Kisame? Kisame had been with him for so long. Sasuke found himself compelled to check his brother’s expression. It showed fury, with no trace of loss or grief. He made no move where his Companion lay, not even when others from his crew began hauling at Kisame-san’s body as if it were a hunk of meat.

Instead Itachi moved towards the other crew’s cat, now the Silver Leaf’s cat. As always, his movements were mesmerisingly graceful. The boy was remarkably pretty, almost girlish. It turned Sasuke’s stomach to see his fear as Itachi approached him, grasped him and pushed him in the direction of the winning crew. Sasuke was looking away, back to Naruto, when he glimpsed the flash of Itachi’s knife. Sasuke watched, frozen with horror; two strokes and the obscenity was done. The boy slid across the floor towards Jiraiya.

The boy lay with his throat cut and a red flower blooming across his midriff. Exactly as Sasuke’s mother had laid. The same stain on her abdomen. Precisely the same wound to the neck: the same placement; the same angle; the same variation in depth.

The bad man had called for him to come out, exactly as Kisame had warned. He had sounded like Itachi.

It had been Itachi. Itachi was the bad man.

Fury boiled up from deep within Sasuke’s being. Itachi would die. He would die knowing that Sasuke was responsible for his death. He would avenge his mother, and Kisame-san and the boy. He looked for him but Itachi had gone, fled like the coward he had become, or always had been. One of his crewmates was chasing him. Sasuke went to follow but Naruto had his hand and Naruto did not move.

“I need you here,” he said.

And Sasuke let Itachi go, for now, so that he could be there for Naruto.

Rin had abandoned Naruto, diving down beside the boy. Iruka and Shikamaru were opposite and beside her, following her instructions. The pool of blood grew around them as they worked. Then, finally, it spread out but no longer increased in volume. Rin moved from first aid to surgery. Iruka was pumping blood out of Shikamaru’s body and into the boy. Sasuke felt Naruto squeezing his hand. “Remind me of this,” Naruto murmured, “next time Rin-san is being annoying.”

The remainder of the Morning Mist’s crew stood there watching them work on the boy, locked into indecision by shame and incomprehension, until Jiraiya stepped forward.

“We accept your reparation,” he announced. “We also wish you to do us the honour of allowing us to deal with Kisame-san’s body. Long ago we were his comrades. We can sing much of his song.”

“That is… …generous of you,” their captain replied.

“We recommend that you terminate any relationship with the traitor Itachi,” continued Jiraiya.

“We have already reached the same conclusion,” Raiga agreed. He stood for a moment and then decided. “We will find you two hover platforms, so you can transport the bodies. The boy’s name is Haku.”