Chapter Text
Tenzo mutters a curse as he hobbles to the front door, rubbing his eyes blearily before grabbing the doorknob and whipping it open. Shisui’s mouth forms a perfect “o” as he blinks at Tenzo with some surprise, his hand still raised to pound on the door.
“I thought that would take longer,” he says. Tenzo narrows his eyes, and Shisui hops back a step, frantically holding up a brown paper bag spotted with grease stains.
“I brought you breakfast, please don’t hurt me,” he says, eyes wide, holding up the bag like a shield. Tenzo leans out the doorway, glancing at the window at the end of the apartment building’s hallway. Early afternoon sunlight gushes through the window, vigorous and vibrant.
“I didn’t mean to sleep in,” Tenzo says with a sigh. “We got back late last night and I just… passed out.”
Tenzo grabs Shisui by the wrist and pulls him inside, shutting the door behind them, wincing slightly as he looks around the mess in his apartment. The wooden floors are smeared with grass and dirt, muddy sandal tracks and traveling clothes dumped on the floor. Tenzo hadn’t even made it to his own bedroom; instead, he’d collapsed on his couch and slept. His kit is scattered around wherever he threw it off himself last night.
“You’ve really let this place go,” Shisui muses, and Tenzo scowls as he snatches the paper bag out of his hands. The pastry is flaky and buttery, still warm, and Tenzo scarfs it down as he hunts for his reconnaissance notebook. He finds it, half-hidden under the couch, and he tosses it at Shisui.
“No fuckin’ sign of him. Not even the Inuzuka on the mission with us could pick up Kakashi’s trail,” Tenzo says, dropping heavily on his couch, licking his fingers absentmindedly as he props up his feet on the table in front of him.
Shisui flips through the book, his brow furrowed a little as he reads. He looks up after a minute, and Tenzo anticipates the question on his lips.
“We had no luck tracking Naruto either,” Tenzo says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Kakashi might have been able to track the kid, considering how much time he spent watching him, but--”
“But there’s no sign of him,” Shisui finishes, dark eyes warm with sympathy. Tenzo doesn’t trust himself to speak and settles for a tense nod, jaw clenched. Shisui sets the notebook down on the table. He looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it and glances away.
“What is it?” Tenzo asks suspiciously. Shisui shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“Do--would you want to come with me for the rest of the day? You could help me make dinner, maybe?”
“What?”
“I--I just mean like, you’ve been out of the village for like two weeks, you probably don’t have anything to eat here, and you seem upset, and you shouldn’t be alone…” Shisui says hurriedly, his voice growing smaller and smaller.
Tenzo stares at him for a long moment. Shisui scratches his neck, laughing awkwardly as his cheeks grow pink.
“Sorry,” Shisui mumbles. “You don’t have to--”
“No, I--uh, I can come over,” Tenzo says, not quite sure why he’s agreeing to this. On the list of things Tenzo would want to do on a weekday night, ‘dinner with Shisui’ is down there between ‘eating Kakashi’s cooking’ and ‘licking the floor of the ANBU barracks’.
But it’s a hell of a lot better than sitting in his apartment with the blinds drawn, frustrated and worried and terrified that something bad’s going to happen to Kakashi.
“I can come over,” he repeats, a little steadier this time, half-expecting Shisui to rescind the offer. But Shisui beams at him and starts talking about the vegetables they need to pick up on the way home, and Tenzo doesn’t feel quite as empty anymore.
It’s weird, but not bad-weird. It’s good-weird. Tenzo watches Shisui turn around without looking and trip over a discarded sandal, nearly falling flat on his face.
Good-weird.
***
It’s been a long time since Tenzo has felt this out of place. The crooked streets of the Uchiha district are awash in resplendent afternoon light, filled with ranks of taciturn Uchiha and gently blowing breezes, not a single outsider in sight.
Except for Tenzo, that is, who’s being dragged down the alleyway by a frightfully-energetic Shisui.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” Tenzo hisses under his breath, glaring at the red-and-white fan on the back of Shisui’s shirt to avoid the stares of strangers.
“ ’Course it is,” Shisui says, in between tossing big smiles and greetings left and right. Tenzo watches him with slight incredulity, because it seems like he personally knows every single Uchiha they run into.
The Uchiha always notice Tenzo first; it’s still remarkably rare for outsiders to come into the heart of the Uchiha district, and everyone studies Tenzo with surprise and a touch of suspicion.
But then Shisui will yell out an excited greeting, or he’ll clap them on the back, or he’ll wave like a hyperactive nine-year old, and those wary gazes will melt and turn to genuine affection. Tenzo thinks he’s seen more Uchiha smile in the past ten minutes than he’s seen in the previous year.
“They like you,” he says to Shisui, and there must be some unintentional surprise in his voice, because Shisui slows and turns, frowning.
“Uh, duh. What’s not to like?” he demands.
“Nothing,” Tenzo says, clearing his throat. “Didn’t we need to buy some things? It’s getting late.”
“That’s where we’re going,” Shisui says with a lopsided grin. “Here--”
There used to be a time when Shisui was always respectful and reserved towards Tenzo, driven by a sense of intimidation and unfamiliarity. Tenzo mourns the loss of that respect now as Shisui pulls him along like a sack of flour, babbling endlessly about which produce vendors give him the best deals.
Ten minutes later, Tenzo sighs as Shisui hands him a fifth bag to hold.
“Did you just ask me to come with you so I could carry everything for you?” Tenzo grumbles, shifting bags from one hand to the other so he doesn’t drop everything onto the ground. Shisui glances over his shoulder at Tenzo, looking a little guilty.
“Shit, I didn’t mean--here, gimme one,” Shisui says, turning around and reaching for the bags. Tenzo, having just balanced all five paper bags in his arms, scowls.
“It’s fine,” he says.
“No, seriously, just give me, like, two--” Shisui says.
“It’s fine, Shisui--” Tenzo says, trying to get away from Shisui’s grabby-hands.
“Will you quit being so stubborn--” Shisui says, exasperated, seizing one of the bags and yanking.
“Stop it! You’re gonna make me drop--”
“Shit!”
One of the bags tumbles to the cobblestones with a crash of shattering glass, strawberry jam splattering the street, potatoes and onions bouncing all over the street. Tenzo stumbles back, stabilizing himself and tightening his arms around the remaining bags, and sends a furious glower at his companion.
Shisui groans, picking up the bag and trying to stuff everything back inside. He goes chasing after a couple onions that roll lazily towards the curb.
“You’re a human disaster,” Tenzo says with a sigh. Shisui’s head snaps up at that.
“That’s mean, Tenzo,” he whines. He smiles a little sheepishly. “I’m sorry. This one’s probably my fault.”
“Probably?” Tenzo asks, raising an eyebrow. Shisui huffs in mock-anger and shakes his head, setting down the bag on the cobblestones and getting on all fours to grab a stray potato from under a wooden bench.
“Shisui?” an unfamiliar voice calls out, and Tenzo turns to see a vaguely-familiar man emerge from one of the shops lining the street. “What are you doing?”
Shisui scrambles to his feet, abandoning the potato to its fate as his face turns bright red.
“N-nothing,” he says. “Hi. Hello. Chief, uh, sir.”
“Oh. Um, hello,” the man says awkwardly, and Tenzo finally realizes just who this man is. Fugaku Uchiha, normally a bastion of stoic impassivity, looks almost comically uncomfortable. His dark eyes flit between the street, the shopfronts, and even the sky, as if he’s afraid to meet Shisui’s eyes.
“You’re well?” he asks after a moment, and Shisui nods vigorously.
“Yes! Good!” Shisui manages to say, appearing every bit as uncomfortable as Fugaku. Tenzo frowns, confused, because this is the most painful small talk he’s ever seen, and he’s friends with Kakashi.
“Is--is Itachi well?” Fugaku asks, looking deliberately at the cobblestones between his feet with intense focus.
Oh, Tenzo realizes, suppressing a wince. Okay, this makes sense now.
“He’s, um, good. Super busy. With his Hokage apprenticeship, and everything,” Shisui says weakly.
“Of course,” Fugaku says, nodding slowly.
“How-how is Sasuke doing?” Shisui asks.
“He’s doing well. He misses his brother,” Fugaku says with a small, tired smile. The smile falls off his face after a second, though, and it’s replaced by an almost-wistful expression. “Can you… would you tell Itachi that we miss him as well? His mother and I.”
“I can--yeah, I mean, of course. Yes. I can do that,” Shisui says, flustered. And then, clearly not thinking about what he’s saying, he continues. “You should come visit sometime!”
Tenzo gawks at Shisui, who turns bright red and immediately starts stammering out something unintelligible. Fugaku just waves a hand, cutting him off.
“No, no. I don’t want to impose,” he says softly, a distant look in his eyes. “He wouldn’t want that--but, uh, if you could just tell him. That we do miss him.”
“We can pass that along,” Tenzo interjects, before Shisui can say something else stupid. Fugaku nods, then takes a step away.
“I have to head back down to the station. It was nice seeing you,” Fugaku says. He pauses, as if he’s going to add something, but settles for a mumbled “goodbye” as he disappears around the corner.
Tenzo shakes his head, and Shisui frowns.
“What?” he asks, and Tenzo snorts.
“You’re a human disaster.”
“Hey!”
***
“Mom! I’m home!” Shisui yells at the top of his lungs, letting the screen door slam shut in Tenzo’s face. Tenzo mutters several unkind words under his breath.
“Shit! Sorry,” Shisui says, pushing the screen door open and holding it. “Forgot your hands are full.”
“Is that Itachi?” a woman’s voice drifts from somewhere within the house.
“No!” Shisui bellows back, at a volume that Tenzo finds both excessive and unnecessary. “It’s just Tenzo!”
“Can I set these down?” Tenzo asks, and Shisui waves him into the kitchen. Tenzo sets the bags on the counter, rolling his shoulders slightly to work out the kinks in them. He peers around with some curiosity, as if Shisui’s home would have some clues as to why Shisui himself is such a fucking mess.
But the house seems perfectly normal, an archetypically cozy cottage lost in the country fields. The walls bear numerous framed photographs of Shisui as a child, the wooden floor is well-worn and scratched up, and a truly hideous chicken-shaped clock hangs on the wall next to a rickety screen door that leads out onto the back porch. Shisui rummages through one of the bags, humming under his breath as he pulls out potatoes and heads over to the sink.
Tenzo keeps exploring, trailing his fingertips over the red-and-white checkered tablecloth on the dining table and sniffing the freshly-cut flowers stuffed into a glass bottle on the countertop. The back door itself is open, and the screen does nothing to hold back the afternoon heat from seeping into the house.
Tenzo walks up to the screen, staring out over the backyard. The expanse of wild grass stretches to the shady treeline a couple hundred feet away, but the grass closer to the house is cropped short. He sees a half dozen garden plots, outlined by raised wooden borders, arranged in a row a couple feet from the porch.
“You garden?” Tenzo asks Shisui, slightly surprised. Shisui looks up from the potatoes he’s rinsing under the tap, shaking his head.
“Nah, that’s Mom’s garden. I’m not allowed near it,” he says, and Tenzo snickers.
“Sounds about right,” he says. Shisui’s face scrunches up in a scowl.
“Shut up--”
“Shisui!” an admonishing voice exclaims, and Tenzo looks over his shoulder. The newcomer is a short woman with curly black hair, eerily similar to the messy mop atop Shisui’s head. “That’s not any way to speak to a guest!”
“He started it,” Shisui mumbles under his breath, rubbing his fingernails across the bumpy skin of a potato to dislodge a stubborn bit of dirt.
“You must be Tenzo,” the woman says, a warm smile on her face. “Call me Asami! It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much from Shisui--”
“Mom!”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Tenzo replies, and he can’t help smiling back. “You have such a lovely home. I was just looking at your garden.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet!” Asami says, a delighted glimmer in her eyes. “It just started as something to pass the time, but I’m quite proud of how it turned out. Do you garden, Tenzo?”
“When I have the time to,” Tenzo says. “It’s very relaxing. I like watching things grow.”
Asami leans over the kitchen counter and pokes Shisui in the chest, glaring at him. Shisui looks up, absolutely wounded.
“What did I do?” he whines, and Asami snorts.
“All these years you’ve been working with him, and you never thought to introduce us?” she demands. “Come, Tenzo, let’s go outside so I can give you a closer look…”
“Wait!” Shisui calls out as Tenzo opens the sliding door and motions for Asami to go first. “Wait! Aren’t you guys gonna help me cook dinner?”
Tenzo smiles ever-so-sweetly at Shisui, then slams the door shut.
***
Itachi knocks on the door, letting out a weary sigh as he leans against the doorframe.
It’s been a long day.
It’s been a long week, really. His first week of training to succeed the Third Hokage has been nothing short of pure hell, filled with late nights and exhaustion-induced headaches.
It would have been a difficult transition during normal times, but with the way things have been going…
Between Orochimaru’s attack, Danzo’s assassin abducting Naruto, and Kakashi Hatake deserting the village, Itachi has had a lot to deal with.
His thoughts drift to the reassignment notice in his front pocket. He’d almost missed it; a brief note about a single ANBU being reassigned is easy to miss when there’s a series of crises going on.
The front door flies open, breaking Itachi free from his reverie, and the mouth-watering aroma of something delicious washes over him as he takes a deep breath. Shisui blinks at him.
“Hi,” he says. Shisui looks frazzled, upon further inspection, and Itachi wonders what his idiot best friend has managed to do this time.
“I think I messed up,” he says, and Itachi groans.
“What did you do?” Itachi says. Shisui throws a wary glance over his shoulder before answering.
“I, uh, introduced Tenzo to my mom? And they’re like, inseparable now, they won’t stop talking about gardening and imported teas--”
“Shisui,” Itachi interrupts, reaching inside his pocket and feeling the folded edge of the reassignment notice with the tip of his finger. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Yes!” Shisui yells, a hint of hysteria creeping into his voice. “I wanted to tell you that I messed up, because I introduced Tenzo to my mom, and now they’re inseparable, and--”
“Shisui!”
“What?”
Shisui scratches his nose, looking so convincingly clueless that Itachi wonders if he’s mistaken for a second, and that the notice in his pocket is referring to some other ANBU.
“I work in the Hokage’s office,” Itachi says, unable to keep a wry smirk from spreading over his lips. “They send us a notice when someone is reassigned to the Hokage Guard Platoon.”
Shisui’s eyes grow as wide as saucers, and Itachi can’t help himself. He laughs, pulling out the notice and handing it to his friend.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Shisui says mournfully, skimming the note. “I was gonna climb through your window and say hi…”
“I’m surprised they even let you into the Guard Platoon. Does that count?”
“No! You’re the worst--” Shisui says, but he’s cracking up too as he’s saying it, chuckling ruefully. The sound of their laughter mingles with the chirping of little sparrows and songbirds.
And after a minute, Itachi leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. Shisui looks over at him, still grinning, and the sun’s beating down with golden zeal that lights up the other boy’s face. The air outside is hot and humid and still, and Itachi closes his eyes and enjoys the cool breeze drifting out from the open door.
He feels warm. He feels happy. He feels like--
Well. This might not be heaven, but Itachi feels like this might be as close as it gets.