In the cold of space you find the heat of suns

Thank you for the reviews. They are very much appreciated. We reached 300 reviews on 14/03/2010. Particular thanks to blackfirexd13 for the 300th.

Apologies if the characters have grown differently in their new environment.

Warning. This chapter contains reference to torture and extreme abuse. It does not contain any description of such torture or abuse.

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.

56. Cure

Haku woke early. He hummed to himself in contented satisfaction. Kisame had been ridden, showered, pampered and tucked into bed; Haku felt that it had been an excellent start to his campaign to persuade Kisame that life without Itachi was worth living. As added frisson, Haku knew that Itachi would be apoplectic with rage if he knew. A small part of him hoped that Itachi would regain consciousness so that Haku could tell him. The rest continued to want Itachi very dead.

He dressed in one of his favourite kimonos, pinned up his hair and joined Iruka-sensei and Kono-kun in the galley. He kissed Konohamaru on the lips, apologising for not finding much time to spend with him recently.

Konohamaru kissed back and smiled. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Haku knew that Konohamaru was referring to his homicidal frenzy. “I have had better afternoons,” he admitted. “I am fine now. I shall endeavour to extract my revenge by saving Kisame-san. It is a more elegant solution.”

“You sit down,” Iruka told him. “I shall make you breakfast.”

Haku slipped into a seat, “Thank you, Iruka-sensei,” he acknowledged. There were people for whom Iruka made breakfast and there were people expected to make their own. Haku was in the second category. He wondered if the gesture was inspired by sympathy or approval.

“Do you have a busy day, Haku-san?”

So it was approval; Iruka only ever called him Haku-san in praise. “I have my usual duties,” Haku replied. “I also have a session with Neji and Rin this morning. I have arranged with Kunugi to tidy his room after lunch.” He paused and Iruka nodded; the request was Kunugi’s way of asking for some more intimate attention. “I was hoping to find time to show Kisame-san about the ship,” Haku continued, “but perhaps it would be better if someone else was his guide. Perhaps Sumaru-kun? Sumaru would have to speak and Kisame will be good with him.”

Iruka nodded. “The idea has merit. Sumaru has been struggling lately. He finds Naruto’s obsession with babies distressing.”


They may have discussed it more but Sumaru chose that moment to walk into the galley. He made small polite bows of greeting and began his morning task of collecting the crockery to set the table.

“Leave that, Sumaru-kun,” Iruka told him. “Come and sit down for a moment. Kono-kun will help you set the table once we have spoken.”

Sumaru put down the dishes obediently, came to the table and sat down.

“Would you like to show Kisame-san around the ship this morning?” Iruka asked.

Sumaru perked up immediately. “With Kono-kun?” he asked.

“No, just you, Sumaru-kun,” Iruka told him.

Sumaru complexion went red, then white, then pink as he balanced having to do all the talking against the honour of being the legendary warrior’s guide. “Yes. Please. Thank you, Iruka-sensei.”


As usual, the next to arrive was Neji. Astonishingly, Shikamaru was with him.

“I must still be dreaming,” Haku announced. “Pinch me, Kono-kun.”

Konohamaru obliged and Haku yipped.

Shikamaru scowled, sat and laid his cheek against the table. His eyes were shut.

“I said you should stay in bed,” Neji told him.

“Want to eat breakfast with you,” Shikamaru mumbled.

Haku realised that this was about Neji’s hypnotherapy. They had a difficult session planned. The spectacle of Shikamaru trying to interact with early morning would be a welcome distraction for Neji.

“How did you ever manage to cat?” Haku asked.

Shikamaru moaned.

“Ibiki-san was very helpful,” Iruka recalled. “He used to drag Shika-kun out of his bunk and shove him under a cold shower. It usually worked.”

“Did I hear my name?” Ibiki asked from the crew room and then froze in the doorway. “I must still be sleeping. Only in a dream would Shikamaru be up so early.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Rin-san, you have to see this. Bring Shino-san.”

“Very funny,” Shikamaru complained.


Naruto was next. He had one look and went to tell Sasuke. When he returned he sat next to Shikamaru and sniffed him.

“Smells like Shi-chan,” he admitted.

Shikamaru opened one eye. “Not you too,” he accused.


Shikamaru’s ploy had worked; Neji was much less tense than Haku had anticipated. They talked about everything and nothing as Rin ran the familiar pre-session checks. Every so often Neji’s lips would quirk into a tiny smile and Haku knew he was thinking of Shikamaru.

The hypnosis sequence began. Neji had become better at relaxing and letting go. Haku checked that the recorder was running. Rin’s voice in his earpiece confirmed that Neji was under. Haku played extracts from previous sessions to spark Neji’s memory. Neji responded and the tone of his voice, slightly higher and with a puzzled innocence, confirmed that they had hit the mark.

In his mind Neji was fourteen. He was implementing his plan to find a suitable crew with whom he could space. He had gone to the right place. He had picked out a Traditional crew. They had liked him. Neji had been confident all would be well.

They had not even got Neji back to their ship; the other crew had challenged and claimed the virgin cat as their prize.


Haku had come to understood some of the burden of being Hyuga. Neji continually analysed the behaviour of those around him, so he always had some idea of what was going to happen. He experienced everything twice, first the anticipation and then the event. This meant he suffered any trauma twice, once in his imagination and once for real.

That day the worst a naïve youth of fourteen could imagine had repeatedly fallen far short of the reality.


The crew’s hobby had been playing Snuff.

Haku was familiar with the horror stories, all spacers were. It was different to meet a victim of Snuffers. There were few survivors and the majority of those lost the will to live.

Even Snuff had rules. It had to be a cat and the cat had to be won from another crew. There was a detailed and extensive menu of ways to abuse the victim. Each was worth points. Sexual acts scored more highly than pure torture. The more extreme the act, the more points it was worth. Points for that act were halved if the victim fell unconscious and lost if the cat died. Off-menu acts, for example mutilation, voided the game. Crews recorded each game and submitted it for independent evaluation. Holos of high scoring games sold for large amounts of credit.

If the cat lasted three hundred minutes he won the right to live.

Haku briefly clung to the hope that Neji had survived because the crew were inexperienced players, or had been interrupted, or any explanation other than managing to live through three hundred minutes in the hands of skilled Snuffers.

They had been experts.

Haku was pulled away from the horror by Rin’s voice in his ear ordering him to terminate the session because the telemetry was so worrying. Haku forced himself not to rush. He carefully implemented the procedures that would distance Neji from the memories. Usually the session ended with Neji waking and them talking through the session. This time all the indicators were amber or red. Neji would need to sleep, possibly until the following morning.

Rin came to help as soon as Neji was unconscious. She had one look at Haku and began checking his pulse.

“That bad?” she queried.

Haku managed a nod.

“Should I know?” she asked. “Or do you need to tell someone?” She gauged his reaction. “You can trust me, Haku. I understand confidentiality.”

Haku had to tell someone. He was not going to be telling Shikamaru. “Snuffers,” he admitted and watched all the colour drain from Rin’s face.


Shikamaru knew that Haku would come to speak to him after Neji’s session. That was the agreed pattern. Neji had hypnotherapy, Neji and Haku talked, Neji napped under Rin’s supervision and Haku talked to Shikamaru.

Haku was slightly early. He looked dreadful. He had changed out of the pretty kimono he had been wearing earlier. His eyes had a haunted look and his smile was forced. Shikamaru prepared himself for very bad news.

“It was a difficult session,” Haku admitted. “Rin decided that Neji needed to sleep directly after the hypnotherapy. Neji and I didn’t talk, so I have not checked what I should tell you. I am sorry, Shikamaru-san, but you will have to wait.”

Haku’s relief when Shikamaru accepted his explanation was also worrying.


Shikamaru had hacked into the hypnotherapy records almost before consciously making the decision.

Snuffers.

Snuffers explained everything.

Snuffers made every gesture of love Neji had made to him a thousand times more precious. Shikamaru now truly understood how difficult it was for Neji to accept a touch without flinching. He thought about every time Neji had allowed him to hold his hand, or wash his hair, or kiss him gently on the lips, or to cuddle close to him when they slept.

His memory played back what Neji had said to him in the laboratory, the day when they had agreed to be lovers, “It won’t be smooth, Shikamaru-san. I have had some bad experiences. It is hard for me to let someone touch me.”

Shikamaru wept at the sheer magnitude of the understatement.

Neji was going through hypnotherapy for him. He was reliving that horror for him. Neji loved him that much.


He washed his face, checked what he looked like and went to find Sasuke. He was alone in his office.

“I need a ring to offer Neji,” he announced without greeting, preamble or introduction.

Sasuke blinked at him in surprise. He pulled himself together. “Do you know what size?” he asked.

Shikamaru did. He had checked. Sasuke fetched the box and picked out all the rings without crests that should fit. There was one with a pattern in diamonds and some lilac gemstone. It reminded Shikamaru of Neji’s eyes. He picked it up and ran his thumb over the smooth surface; the stones were pavé set. Shikamaru thought Neji might like it.

“This one,” he told Sasuke. “I’ll return it if he refuses it.”

Sasuke shook his head. “No, you keep it in case he changes his mind,” he insisted.


Then Shikamaru went back to the laboratory. Shino was elsewhere, which was convenient. He checked the cabinet that contained his data crystal array. The crystals were his, not Uchiha’s. He had bought them gradually over the standards. They were populated by data downloaded from the data streams. His share from the Silver Leaf, some carefully judged speculation and their time on Tarrasade had allowed him to double the size of the array. Every time they were at a gate with a communication relay, Shikamaru hacked in, searched for new information and updated the array.

Next he connected to his console and constructed an enquiry about Snuffers. He included some of the information he had gleaned from the hypnotherapy records. Once he was satisfied, he began running it through the array.

Shikamaru had decided to destroy the Snuffers. It would take time but he could be patient. He would drive Snuff holovideos underground; if the holos automatically corrupted as soon as they hit the data streams they could only be sold as tapes or crystals. He would publish the identity of Snuffer crews, with evidence. He believed he could rely on the more powerful Traditional crews to do what was necessary. If not, there were other ways.

It would be his gift to Neji; a secret from everyone, including Neji, but Shikamaru would know and that would be enough.


Sumaru had shown Kisame-san the Oak and the Sakura. He had shown him all the exciting parts, like the gyms and Naruto’s gun turret, and the interesting parts, like the stimulators and the Control Room. He had even pointed out the boring parts, like the laboratories, engine rooms, offices, holds, docking bays and accommodation. It was not as difficult as he had thought, because Kisame-san would ask questions when he did not know what to say. Once Sumaru had run out of places to show him, they went back to the galley and Sumaru made tea, being careful to make it the way Iruka-sensei had taught him.

“Who were the ladies I saw, Sumaru-kun?” Kisame asked him.

Sumaru wondered if Kisame-san liked ladies. He obviously liked Haku and Haku was very feminine. “They crew on the Silver Leaf,” Sumaru told him. “The Silver Leaf is our ally.”

Kisame-san was looking at him. Sumaru had come to realise he did this when he was hoping for more information.

“Captain Tsunade is Jiraiya-san’s lover.” Sumaru tried and was rewarded by a twinkle in Kisame-san’s eye. “Temari-san is one of the Sunagakure. We have agreed to help the Sunagakure rid their system of slavers. Her brother is the hybrid warrior hibernating in the ship I showed you.” He stopped. That was the end of the interesting things about the Silver Leaf’s crew. Kisame-san was still looking at him. “Their cat, Tayuya, is nasty,” he added.

Kisame smiled. “And how did you come to be Sasuke-sama’s ward, Sumaru-kun?”

“My mother is very ill. She asked him to take me,” Sumaru told him.

Kisame put a hand on his shoulder, which was nice. “I am sorry to hear that your mother is ill, Sumaru-kun. Is there any chance of good news?”

Sumaru shook his head. “No. Rin-san continues to try. Rin-san never gives up.” He looked Kisame in the face. “You know that. You brought Sasuke’s brother here because of that.”

“I know that,” Kisame acknowledged. “So your mother is in the infirmary here?”

“Yes. I visit her every day.” He was struck by a sudden thought. “There is time before the midday meal. I could visit my mother and you could visit Sasuke’s brother.”

“That would be nice, Sumaru-kun,” Kisame agreed.


They walked together to the infirmary. Kisame shortened his step and Sumaru increased his pace; they had worked out that this was the most comfortable way for them to walk together.

“What are your plans, Sumaru-kun?” Kisame-san asked.

“I want to be the greatest Uchiha warrior ever,” Sumaru told him. “Greater than Naruto-san.” He flushed. “Greater than even you, Kisame-san.” He considered. “If that is not possible, I want to be the greatest warrior I can be.”

Kisame looked at him with approval. “That is a laudable ambition, Sumaru-kun. We should train together. Perhaps we could start tomorrow.”

Sumaru thought his heart would burst. He could not think of words to express what he was feeling. “Thank you, Kisame-san,” he squeaked.


Kisame liked Sumaru. He liked his straightforward, boy’s attitude to life. He was surprised that such a small, slight, pretty thing wanted to be a fighter. He studied him more closely, noting his musculature, his balance and the way he moved. There were the signs that he trained when one looked for them.

Sumaru took him through the infirmary and into a small side room. As well as the tank, there were decorations and a chair with a small table beside it. Kisame imagined the boy spending time there. Sumaru introduced them and Kisame politely responded as if Natsuhi-san were conscious, which the boy seemed to like.

Itachi was in a similar small side room. Kisame had to go searching for a chair. He placed it so that it would be easy to see Itachi’s face. He looked peaceful. Kisame shut his eye. Seeing Sasuke reminded Kisame of Itachi at that age. He had been so fine and proud and graceful.

Kisame knew that Itachi was as he was, tanked on the edge of death, because of him. No matter how unstable Itachi had become, Kisame had always been there for him: his anchor and his foundation. When Kisame had betrayed him, when he had chosen Sasuke over him, Itachi’s brittle world had shattered. His obsessions had transformed into delusions; his self-destructive tendencies had become addictions. While before he had drunk a little too much, he had begun drinking heavily. He had started taking other drugs, not caring what they were or what they could do to him. He had stopped sleeping. Not even Itachi’s genetically perfect body could cope with that degree of self-abuse. His nanobots had begun malfunctioning. His enhanced immunity had overreacted to infections, ravaging his organs.

And Kisame had let it happen, because when Itachi was drunk, or ill, or unconscious he did not kill people for no reason or force Kisame to kill them in order to protect him.

This was better. Itachi was safe. Others were safe from Itachi. There was the hope, however small, that Rin would cure him. In his heart of hearts, Kisame wished that Itachi could be truly cured; that he could be the man he would have been if he had been raised by Mikoto-san, or Iruka, or Sasuke and Naruto.

Kisame hoped, as he always had, for a miracle.

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