It didn't come as a surprise, not really.
But Itachi would be lying if he said it didn't hurt to hear the news. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a momentary sense of panic in his chest when he heard what had happened.
Even more so when he couldn't do anything about it from where he was currently sitting.
Bark!
The old cookbook in his lap had fallen and the once-sleeping Yami that had lain beneath his feet had now jumped onto his stomach sensing the slight shift in his emotions, sniffing his face as if to ask what was wrong.
"That's what I had overheard, but I thought you should know," Kisame finished, pausing for a moment before walking back into the house.
His brother was gone, and though Kisame had said Sasuke had gone willingly, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that maybe hearing he had been kidnapped instead would have made the sinking feeling in his chest just a little bit better.
It wasn't that he wanted Sasuke to have been kidnapped, not necessarily, but knowing Sasuke had walked off into Orochimaru's hands willingly left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Didn't Sasuke hate him enough to detest appearing anything like him, hate anyone Itachi would be associated with, much more with the very man who had killed the Hokage?
Didn't Sasuke know that following in his older brother's footsteps would only bring him more pain? This wasn't a competition to see who could be the better villain. Not to Itachi.
Meaningless.
What had Itachi done exactly? It was as if everything he had done up to that point was now rendered meaningless and every murder he had committed only seemed to blink through his mind as their eyes stared back at him, their bodies drained of their life and of their blood.
Death and suffering.
It was almost comical. It was as if history was repeating itself and Itachi was once again that young boy standing beside Orochimaru at Obito's funeral as he had asked him what the meaning of life was.
"There is none," the older man had told him.
The life Itachi had seen the moment Sasuke was born, the life he had worked to protect in the background had proven otherwise, but it was now becoming full of death and suffering. Just like him, just like Itachi, his deadbeat brother.
Itachi's breath faltered as his fingers absent-mindedly stroked Yami's fur, his eyes glazing over as he fell further into his own hopeless dismay.
"Hey, what color is this?"
Silence.
Kintsugi didn't need sight to be able to tell something was wrong with Itachi.
If she were honest with herself, it bothered her, because not only had he not spoken to her as much as he used to ever since she had left the hospital a few weeks ago, he seemed more guarded, more cold.
And if Kintsugi didn't know herself better, she would say the emotion she felt about the whole thing was anger and a lot of hurt.
Had she done something wrong? Was she getting too close? Is that why she felt this way?
Even when they had all returned from a mission the other day, Itachi had kept his promise to get dango and mochi with her, but he had acted indifferent as if it were just another task he had to complete.
She couldn't help but think of Rashaan. That maybe he was right. She was a tool and would always be a tool. A means to an end. But here she was determined to push through.
And as her head began to ache, she gripped the paintbrush she was holding just a little bit tighter feeling as if she was losing a bit of herself in the current reality.
"Itachi," she whispered as she accidentally lay her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, his eyes slowly finding hers for the first time in a while.
He didn't speak, but she knew she had his attention now, and just like that, her headache seemed to lessen.
"The color?" Kintsugi asked again hoping to disguise her earlier mistake as she sensed him turn her way. "Are you okay?" She dared to ask again seeing as he still hadn't answered.
His eyes looked at the hand she rested against him, and gently, his fingers reached out to touch her hand, bringing her in front of him as he pulled her closer to his body and to the dog that still lay on his stomach.
"Violet," he whispered taking the paintbrush from her with his other hand as he brushed it against the top of her own in one slow stroke.
"Oh...okay," she blinked, confused as she turned around and walked back inside.
It wasn't too long after when Kintsugi came back to where he still sat, cookbook once again on his lap and a tired Yami by his feet.
"And this one?"
"Blue," he monotoned as he watched her walk back into the house with a different tube of acrylic paint.
He wasn't reading anymore, she knew this because she hadn't heard a single page turn for the past 30 minutes she had been attempting to paint.
But he was the perfect illusion to anyone that would happen to glance his way, the black shirt he normally wore had an abundance of dog hair from where Yami had lain, and though he was out in the open, anybody that would have happened to stop by would immediately see a brown-haired man wearing a black shirt with round-rimmed glasses.
Her fingers trembled as she held the paintbrush sensing his eyes temporarily looking at her in observation.
"Is there something on your mind?" Kintsugi muttered as she brushed a bit more on the canvas in front of her.
"No," he spoke wearily, his head resting against his hand as he shifted his body.
"...you once told me...that if you want to know who you are, you have to look at your real self and acknowledge what you see," she paused as she tilted her head, "I don't know how you feel exactly Itachi, but whatever's going on communicating is..."
"Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That Sasuke's gone, Kintsugi."
"...I do...," she paused, "I did."
"You didn't tell me."
"Would me telling you about what he did change anything? Are you going to go after him?"
She hadn't meant it in a bad way, but she was curious because this was the most he had spoken to her in a while. Even if it was over something like this, at least he was talking to her.
"Whatever I may or may not have done...that would have been up to me if you had just-"
"I found out yesterday Itachi. Even then I thought it had been a rumor, but up until a few hours ago, Kakashi had confirmed it because I wanted to make sure," she spoke as she sensed him shift in his chair again in what seemed to be discomfort, " So I'm sorry if I wasn't the first one to tell you the news like Kisame. I figured it would be better if someone you actually talked to could deliver the news."
Itachi blinked because here he was having an argument with someone he wasn't supposed to care about at all. Whoever was right and whoever was wrong shouldn't matter to him. But he felt something ache within him as she sighed in frustration because of him.
"What are you doing?" She muttered as she sensed him get up and walk towards her, his face leaning closer to her own.
"Are you mad?"
"No."
"You are."
"I said I'm not, what...what are you doing."
"You're bothered by something." Itachi whispered as he held her face between his hands glancing up and down her features, " and I don't think it has to do with what we were just talking about."
"What? I was the one asking you-"
But she didn't get to finish because Kisame's words echoed in his mind.
Kintsugi couldn't see but Itachi was staring at her lips as one hand reached out to gently hold the paintbrush she was still holding.
He now understood what that meant, a little bit of what the meaning of life was. He now understood that Kisame was right.
He was fond of her.
Very fond.
[Kintsugi's painting]
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11/10/2022 (A/N): I know. I know. It's a short chapter. Guess I'm in that character development arc in my life or something because I've been struggling and dealing with a very high amount of stress and anxiety this past month that I have never experienced before in my life.
Writing anything was difficult and today was the first day where writing actually felt like it was helping to alleviate just the tiniest bit of that stress. With that said...I'm sorry...cliffhanger?