Divided Loyalty

A/N: And here's the new chapter. This one is focused on Kisame and Sasuke, since I realized that I have been neglecting them a little recently. :D Satterb, I hope you enjoy it.



CHAPTER 6



Sasuke slowly woke up, feeling as if he was drifting and boneless. The window above the bed was slightly ajar and pale sunlight seeped into the room through the partially drawn curtains. He could hear seagulls crying out outside, as well as the soft hum of the ocean.



Sasuke sighed and buried himself deeper into the cosy cocoon of blankets and the large, muscled limbs wrapped around him. Limbs? His dark eyes flew open in surprise and he stared at the wide, heavily muscled bluish chest of the Mist Nin. His skin was surprisingly soft under his cheek, the lone nipple in his line of vision being of strange dark-blue colour, so dark that it appeared to be almost purple. Slowly his gaze travelled up, past the surprisingly elegant neck for a man so packed with muscles to his face. Kisame looked… well, he didn’t look innocent in his sleep, Sasuke doubted that he looked innocent even as a baby, but he seemed relaxed. Serene, almost. His thin lips were slightly parted, showing a hint of his terrifying teeth hidden behind them, the odd golden eyes closed, his dark-blue hair tousled in sleep. He looked like a slumbering predator – seemingly harmless, but also prepared to tear you to pieces if you tried to poke him with a stick.



Speaking of sticks…



His morning erection was making its presence known and Sasuke felt his cheeks heating up with embarrassment. The fact that he was wrapped in the arms of a man like Kisame – so large, powerful, and yet capable of surprising amount of gentleness – didn’t help the matter very much. Juugo had been similar in a way – physically at least, although, unlike Kisame, his innocence had been real, and the monster inside of him like a separate entity not under his control. The Mist Nin, on the other hand, was very well-aware of his own inner monsters, Sasuke was sure of that. He was aware of them and had mastered them long time ago, had made them his allies and weapons. Perhaps that was what Itachi had seen in him? The ability of exercising rigid self-control over his darker impulses, hidden beneath his veneer of good manners and polite speech?



The powerful chest rose and fell quietly under Sasuke’s cheek and his arousal intensified. He closed his eyes and tried to regain control, to push it away, unwilling to embarrass himself like this in front of Kisame when the man finally deigned to wake up.



He raked his brains for the most unarousing mental image he could, and finally came up with an idea. Orochimaru. In his original form. There. The revulsion that mental image caused was enough to keep his arousal at bay. He almost sighed with relief when he felt his erection subsiding. Under him, Kisame slowly began to stir, his breathing increasing, golden eyes blinking open and then immediately focusing on the younger Nin.



“Good morning.” Kisame said with voice still hoarse from sleep.



Sasuke looked away and couldn’t control the furious blush that bloomed in his cheeks.



“Good morning.” He mumbled and extricated himself from Kisame’s embrace, the other man readily opening his arms and making no attempt to hold him back.



“You slept better.” The Mist nin noted.



Sasuke nodded mutely and slid out of the bed, clad only in a pair of black boxer-shorts.



“I’ll go take a shower.” He stated and quickly left the room. Kisame stared after the retreating firm little bottom, unable to tear his eyes away from the delectable view. Itachi, he remembered, had the same ass. He scowled at himself and pulled the sheets away, then slid out of the bed too and headed for his own room, filled with annoyance that the brat had managed to hog the bathroom first yet again. He had to think about constructing another one. At least the toilets were two.



While going about his morning routine – that is, excluding the shower as Sasuke was still in the bathroom – he thought about his own reactions to Sasuke lately. They varied – from severe annoyance and exasperation, to concern, to barely controlled lust. The last bothered him on many levels and once again he scowled at the mirror while brushing his teeth, working the brush furiously. Was it right to desire Sasuke? He was not a man prone to feeling guilty about whatever he did, but Itachi had held a special place in his heart – and he had been forced to admit, at least to himself, that he still had a heart – and lusting after his younger brother just seemed wrong, regardless of the fact that the man had been dead for almost two years. Two years during which he hadn’t touched another human being in such a manner, mainly for two reasons – because no one had been able to excite him the way Itachi did, and because he still grieved. He disliked grieving – having grown up in Kirigakure, grief was an emotion that he considered lo have been beaten out of him during his childhood, and yet here it was, as raw and overwhelming as it had been after he killed his brother during the Final Exam. So where had this lust come from?



What also bothered him was that he wasn’t even sure if it was just lust. Lately, especially during the past several months, he had begun to feel as possessive and protective of Sasuke as he had been with Itachi. Was it because the two brothers were so alike? Was he transferring whatever emotions he had had for Itachi over to Sasuke? Had he begun to view Sasuke as some sort of replacement for Itachi?



He spat in the sink and rinsed his mouth and the brush then huffed with annoyance, mostly at himself. Such emotional confusion was incredibly juvenile, and yet here he was, a grown man of 34 years of age, deliberating whether he was getting attached to a brat even younger than Itachi had been, or was simply transferring the attachment he already had for Itachi onto someone who was like him in so many ways.



When he got out of the toilet Sasuke was still in the bathroom, the shower running, and it appeared that it would continue for a while. Sasuke would use up all the hot water again, Kisame reckoned and pinched the bridge of his nose to stall the headache that threatened to blossom behind his eyes at the thought that the two brothers were very much alike indeed. Prissy and vain about their appearance, even if both would be very indignant if that was pointed out to them.



Finally Sasuke deigned to come out, a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, wild hair flattened to his scalp with water, chest damp and glistening. With his hair like that he was almost a splitting image of Itachi and it made the Mist Nin pause and stare helplessly. Sasuke frowned at him:



“I didn’t use up all the hot water, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He muttered, then turned and headed for the kitchen. It was his turn to cook today. Kisame felt like banging his head against the wall.



Indeed, there was still some hot water left, and when Kisame emerged from the bathroom, freshly bathed and shaved, he found two bowls of okayu waiting for them on the kitchen table, the smell of grilling fish wafting from the stove.



“We have no eggs left.” Sasuke stated without turning. He had exchanged the towel for a pair of pants, standing barefoot in the kitchen, his damp hair slowly returning to its previous tousled appearance.



“Market day is tomorrow, we’ll get some then.” Kisame answered and sat down, watching the young man move gracefully, turning the fish with a sure hand over the grill. Kisame already knew that Sasuke was a good cook, unlike his brother had been – Itachi had many amazing talents, one of them being the ability to burn water.



Sasuke served the fish in two small plates and handed one to Kisame, as well as chopsticks, then served himself. They ate in silence for a while, each looking at his own plate.



“Thank you.” Sasuke suddenly blurted out.



“Hm?”



“About last night. About…” he paused, obviously uncomfortable “…comforting me.”



Kisame nodded and ate another bite of his fish before saying:



“I am used to comforting Uchihas, you know. Your brother too had terrible nightmares.”



Sasuke blinked at that, the chopsticks holding a little morsel of rice pausing as he lifted them to his mouth.



“He did?”



“Yes.”



“It’s hard to imagine that there was anything about him that made him human.” He muttered, more to himself than to Kisame. The older man frowned at him.



“Your brother was very human, I assure you of that. More so than many other Nin that I have known over the years.”



“Then I have not known him at all, have I?” Sasuke scowled and shoved the food in his mouth.



“He did what was necessary for you to survive, Sasuke. Sooner or later you’ll have to come to terms with that.”



Afterwards they ate in silence again, and when they were done Kisame headed out the back to prepare his net and their little boat for the day while Sasuke prepared them something to eat during their little trip out to sea.



Kisame smelled rain in the air and he knew that the good, sunny days were numbered – storm season was approaching, and while he had no problem going out to fish in a storm – in fact, he probably would feel most at home in such conditions – he knew that he couldn’t take Sasuke with him anymore. It would become too dangerous for the younger man. He had the nagging feeling that the Uchiha wouldn’t be happy about that.



Finally, they were in the boat, Sasuke sitting at the front, a bundle wrapped in cloth in his lap, Kisame at the back. The Mist Nin dipped two fingers in the water over the board of the boat and concentrated on his Chakra. Suddenly, they were moving as if they were propelled by a diesel engine, the water swirling after them. He stirred them towards the small bay at the back of the island, a place rarely approached by ships and boats, since it was filled with underwater rocks and traitorous currents – something which posed no problem for someone like him but which was deadly to the ordinary fishermen. As a result, there was plenty of catch and no people anywhere in sight. When they finally arrived and he was pleased with the place he had chosen, he turned to Sasuke:



“Do you want to throw the first net?” he asked. The young man turned, his eyes a little wide with surprise.



“Me? Are you sure?”



“Didn’t we establish that I am teaching you how to fish?”



Sasuke couldn’t help but smile a little at that and turned to grasp at the net, letting Kisame fold it in his hands as it was supposed to be folded and then guide him into properly throwing it, his hands surprisingly gentle as he situated Sasuke and showed him what to do. The first attempt was quite pathetic, at least in Sasuke’s opinion, but Kisame didn’t seem phased at that at all, he just nodded, patted his shoulder and said:



“Repetition is the mother of knowledge. You’ll learn in time.”



Then they sat down to wait, with Sasuke curiously staring overboard into the clear depths of the tropical sea. The water was so clean, so transparent that he could see the bottom, several meters below them, make out the soft ripples in the sand and the fish lazily swimming under the boat.



“Did you ever go fishing with Itachi?” he asked after a while.



“Sometimes. When we had time, or when we were hungry enough for it.”



“He was quite good with a fishing stick when were children.” Sasuke said.



“He was good with it as an adult too.” Kisame answered with a little smile.



“How did you learn how to throw a net?”



“My father taught me.”



Sasuke turned to look at him with surprise:



“Your father was a fisherman?”



“Yes. As was my mother. Although most of my colleagues seemed to be terribly afraid of her.” He said with a wistful smile.



“So you’re not from a Ninja family?”



Kisame shook his head:



“No.”



“But your Chakra…”



“Was a fluke of nature.”



He really didn’t feel like talking about his family anymore, nor what him and his brother becoming Nins had done to it. His mother, he was sure, never forgave him for killing Seiji, despite being well-aware beforehand that one of her sons would die in the Final Exam. But neither her, nor their father had been able to accept that Kisame had become the instrument of his destruction. He had lost more than his brother that fateful day.



Apparently his face betrayed something of his emotion because Sasuke looked apologetic.



“I didn’t mean to pry…”



“Yes, you did, actually, but that’s fine.” He forced himself to smile a little at the young man. It wasn’t his fault. “It’s okay.”



Sasuke nodded and looked back into the depths. Kisame silently moved to sit next to him, gathered his hands for a seal and slid his hand into the water again. Suddenly the fish moved as if swept by an underwater wind, chasing them right into the net.



“How did you do that?” Sasuke said, wide-eyed. “Did you change the currents?”



“On a very small scale around the boat.” He replied as he watched the result of his action. Sasuke looked intensely curious, but his eyes remained their usual dark colour, no red bleeding into them. He refrained from using his Sharingan, knowing that now that he had the Mangekyou, it would be a matter of time before he got sick like Itachi had if he used his Bloodline Limit. Exercising such control over something which was part of him, which had been his main weapon for all these years, was torturous, but he was determined not to follow in Itachi’s footsteps. If that was the price for survival, then he would pay it. He owed his brother that much, despite everything.



Kisame watched the young man stare down with a hungry look on his face.



“Do you want me to teach you?”



“Teache me what?” Sasuke said distractedly.



“The Jutsu I just used. I know that you can’t use your Sharingan to copy it anymore.”



Sasuke scowled at him severely.



“I am far from helpless.” He stated haughtily and pulled away from the side of the board.



“I didn’t suggest it to rub salt in your wounds, Sasuke. I really don’t mind teaching it to you in the traditional way.”



Sasuke was looking at him suspiciously for a while, then nodded.



“Okay.”



Kisame got up and began pulling out the net, pleased with the amount of fish that had been caught in it.



“Let’s put away the fish first and then I’ll begin teaching you.”



Sasuke helped him untangle the fish from the net and put it in the buckets they had brought for that purpose, the ice in them, once again courtesy of Kisame’s skills, sure to preserve it in the hot weather. When they were done, the Mist Nin stepped overboard and walked small distance away from the boat, waiting for Sasuke to join him.



“Okay. Now what?” the Uchiha asked once he stood next to him.



“How do you imagine fire, Sasuke? When you mould your fire-jutsu?”



Sasuke paused and thought about it:



“Chaos. Heat, within me, in my chest, rushing towards my mouth and my fingers.” He explained. Kisame nodded. Itachi had said something similar years ago when he had asked him the same question.



“Your element is Fire, Sasuke, which is why teaching you a water Jutsu would be a little difficult, and it probably wouldn’t come out as powerful as from someone with the Water element, like me, but it’s not impossible. Water’s nature is quite different than Fire, you see.”



Sasuke was looking at him curiously, saying nothing.



“When you mould Fire, you need to be in control, because, as you said, Fire is chaos, if you let go of that control, it can consume you. Water is the exact opposite, that way.”



“I have to let go of control?” Sasuke didn’t seem too impressed by the notion.



“Not exactly. You need to let yourself flow with it, become part of it, let it become part of you. I always imagine my element as a vast, serene lake within me, and I am the wall, the dam that holds it in. When I allow that dam to break, I become not only the dam, but also flow that comes rushing out.”



Sasuke looked thoughtful.



“This is very different than Fire.”



“Indeed.”



He showed him the small series of seals needed for the Jutsu he performed on the boat. Sasuke copied them without a fault, even without his Sharingan, but did so without feeding any Chakra to his hands.



“Now, try to imagine that lake. You’re the dam, and you’re the Water when you feed the Chakra in the seals. Are you ready?”



Sasuke nodded and did the seals again, this time powering them with his chakra, then placed his hands a few centimeters underwater. Nothing happened. The fish below kept swimming lazily, barely paying them any attention. He frowned and looked up at Kisame, expecting him to look disappointed and lose interest, just like his father had, all those years ago when he had tried to teach Sasuke that fire Jutsu. There was no such thing on the Mist Nin’s expression – he looked calm and patient.



“It’s normal that it wouldn’t happen the first time. Don’t worry. Keep trying. I’ll help you.”



Sasuke blinked at the encouragement, unused to such attitude from a teacher, except perhaps from Kakashi, but in his case it had been more like a pointed lack of interest rather than patience. It felt surprisingly good not to be scolded for his failure, not to be looked at like some sort of prodigy expected to do perfectly everything that he was taught the first time he tried it.



He folded his hands in the seals and tried again. And then again.



They spent the whole afternoon practicing, Sasuke slowly becoming better and better at what he tried to do. It was difficult for him, he admitted that for himself. Water was a very different element, and he found it difficult to control the strength and speed and direction of the flows once he did manage to create them, but he didn’t give up. And neither did Kisame, patiently correcting him when he thought it necessary, pointing out his mistakes, and then showing him how to overcome them. He was unlike any other teacher he had ever had, his father, Kakashi, Orochimaru… Perhaps Itachi had been a little different than them, he had had genuine desire to teach Sasuke, in the rare occasions when he had the time to instruct him. However, despite his genius, Itachi had still been a thirteen year old boy back then, and had had no experience as a teacher. Needless to say, those lessons hadn’t been very fruitful, even if Sasuke had enjoyed them immensely.



Now he had a teacher who knew what he was doing, who was patient and yet stern at the same time, who obviously knew how to encourage him to give the best of himself, and that was something Sasuke had never had before. When Kisame finally paused to look at the ominously darkening sky and said that they were done for the day and would be going home now, Sasuke felt downright giddy.



He was silent on the ride back to the small pier behind their house, dreamily carrying the buckets of fish and putting it all away in the freezer once they arrived.



The older man seemed to have gone to take another shower in order to clean himself of the salt and sweat of the busy day that they had had and Sasuke found himself alone in the house. He washed his hands in the kitchen sink and walked back to the main corridor that connected both bedrooms with the bathroom and the toilets and stood there, listening to the sound of the running shower. Kisame’s door was slightly ajar and Sasuke could see that the bedroom was dark. Curiosity got the better of him and he silently opened the door a little more then sneaked inside.



He had never been in Kisame’s bedroom before, despite all the time that they had lived in this house. It looked surprisingly cosy, with a large bed covered with a dark blue comforter, rows of books and scrolls by the wall, as well as the gargantuan sword propped up next to them. There was a desk under the window, more papers and books in a disarray on top of it, as well as a small but ornate wooden lacquered box – polished to a deep, reddish shine, the gold leaf motif forming wild, stormy sea around the scaled, iridescent mother-of-pearl water dragon swimming across the sea. It looked old and quite expensive and Sasuke decided that it must be some sort of a family heirloom.



Unchecked curiosity had always been an abominable weakness of his character, one that had prompted him to open the doors of their home that blood-soaked night and come face to face with his slain parents, despite Itachi’s desperate plea not to come in. Sadly, he hadn’t learned his lesson back then, a fact that he was well-aware of but didn’t care about. He reached, and carefully lifted the ornate lid to uncover whatever treasures the little box contained.



It was filled with all kinds of little knick-knacks – folder papers that appeared to be letters and documents, a broken silver brooch in the form of koi fish, a beaded necklace which seemed oddly familiar, the beads melted and charred in several places, a suspicious lock of silken, raven hair tied with a little red ribbon, a photograph facing the bottom of the box… Curiously, he lifted the photo and turned it over, his eyes widening when he saw what was on it. It was quite old, its corners bent and torn, its colours faded and it seemed to have been touched and looked at quite often, because he could see finger prints all over it, but the image on it was absolutely unmistakable. It was his brother, perched on a windowsill, behind him the sky was heavy with dark clouds, ready to unleash a torrent of rain on an unfamiliar city made of dark, ominous towers. But it wasn’t the sky or the city that shocked Sasuke so much, it was his brother’s image.



Itachi looked around 16-17 years old on this picture, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and dark pants reaching to his knees, his feet bare, his long hair loose around his face. And the face… He stared right into the camera, and consequently, at whomever had held the camera, his expression serene, a tiny smile tugging the corners of his lips, his eyes dark and filled with warmth. He looked human, vulnerable, trusting, completely different than the cold-blooded monster he showed to Sasuke on the rare occasions when they had met after the Massacre.



His eyes slid down to Itachi’s neck and he recognized the necklace in Kisame’s box, the same necklace he seen him wear during their encounters, the same necklace he had lost the last time he saw him – during their duel. Had the Mist Nin given it to him? Was he the one holding the camera? Was this expression, so warm, so loving, aimed at Kisame? Just how close had they been?



His fingers shook as he held the picture and stared at his brother’s face, many emotions warring within him – rage, jealousy, fear, apprehension. He couldn’t even tell why he felt the way he felt, but it was almost overwhelming. Suddenly, he realized that he could no longer hear the water running – Kisame must be finished with his shower. Hurriedly, he put the picture back in the box and closed the lid, then looked through crack of the open door – Kisame hadn’t exited the bathroom yet, but he could hear him moving around in it. Hurriedly, he slid out of the room and walked towards the kitchen as fast as possible to start dinner.