singlelogbridge | Inbox: Ximilia

（ he hmms softly, and kneels down beside the man. the position is not like to be lost on either of them, strangely mimical of their return from taeum and sedorum. he puts one hand to the man's heel to lift his leg, and with the other dips the rag into the water and begins the process of cleaning away the blood. he hasn't even begun healing it yet, wanting a better look at the punctures themselves — he isn't quite skilled enough yet to heal sight unseen. ）

Animal bites have a high likelihood of becoming infected, a product of the bacteria in their mouths.

（ it's not quite a lecture so much as information known and shared while he works. his touch is firm, but there's a delicacy to it, not entirely unlike the nature of his calligraphy. ）

How did it happen?

[For a long moment, he says nothing, eyes falling to the bite. As his focus drifts, he folds his arms across his chest and brings his good leg up to curl close to it, instinctively making himself smaller without realizing.]

Isn't it obvious? [He tries for flippant and misses. After another pause, he continues in a soft voice, eyes dazed and focused on the memory.]

I was out at night. And there was a...a pack...of...um. [He stumbles over his words, and closes his eyes, appearing to struggle with even talking about it.

And then, quieter than the rest.] They were hungry. When I was a kid. When I lived on the streets. [His arms wind around the leg pulled up in front of him and he shrugs.]

They were always hungry.

（ wei wuxian speaks, but he is no longer present — not exactly, not entirely. and itachi listens, as he sets the bowl aside and focuses. this application of chakra is still clumsy, no matter that he has been learning it for nearly a year — it has never come as naturally to him as causing harm. but the chakra that floods his hand from his wrist to the tips of his fingers feels like submerging himself in a sunwarmed lake, and it's enough. the flesh begins to knit beneath his touch, a wrinkle of concentration furrowing his brow. ）

I'm sorry. I can't begin to imagine what that would have been like.

（ his upbringing, after all, was befitting the son of a clan leader's son. he wanted for nothing within the walls of the compound, and while missions could be prone to hardship, he never experienced hunger of any scope or sort that he knew would not be alleviated upon his return to konoha. ）

[He blinks a few times and seems to come back to himself, inhaling sharply and then letting his gaze shift to watch Itachi work. The cleaning process had stung a little, but it only feels warm now.]

Aside from the...[He gestures vaguely with a hand] dogs, it wasn't that bad.

I was young enough some people took pity. And there was a kind old couple that let me sleep with their animals in the winters. [It might sound like very little, but it wasn't. It saved his life and not many people would have afforded such luxury to a street kid like him.]

And it was only for a little more than two years before Jiang Fengmian found me. What other street orphan could be so lucky?

（ what other street orphan could be so lucky? itachi's mouth thins to hear that, and once the leg is as mended as he can make it, he slowly lowers the man's foot to the floor, rolls down the cuff of his jeans. the injury is entirely healed upon the surface — but the trauma in the deep muscle is more difficult to work with, and will require only time.

he rises, when he is finished, and takes the bowl full of hazy, pink water to the bathroom to pour out. there is the sound of water running, and eventually he emerges, wiping his hands on a small towel. ）

Luck is finding a coin in the road. No one takes in a child without expecting them to have a use.

（ even if it's done purely out of the good of their heart — being good of heart does not clean a dwelling, or pay for food. he thinks of izumi, then, born to a non-uchiha mother, removed from the compound at the death of her sharingan-wielding father. it was not until she woke it herself that they were permitted back into the relative safety of the clan grounds. but the uchiha would have been perfectly content to let them — a grieving mother and young child — starve on the streets because they did not provide a use. ）

No, it wasn't...[He pauses. Sighs. Then keeps going. There is little he wouldn't tell Itachi, especially now, and it was common knowledge in his world anyway.]

He knew my parents. Before Uncle Fengmian met Madam Yu—his wife, he knew them. [Itachi more than others perhaps will pick up on the linguistic nuance. Uncle and Madam, the former intimate, the latter, the address of a stranger or servant.]

My father was his right hand man. My mother was a rogue cultivator—unaffiliated with any sect—who had trained under the immortal Baoshan Sanren herself.

Uncle Fengmian loved them both. [A quiet pause and even quieter admittance] He loved my mother.

Anyway, when he heard they'd been killed on a nighthunt, he spent months tracking me down. He raised me as one of his own. He was a good man.

（ then your use was assuaging either his sense of guilt or of obligation. but it is a cruel thing to say, and he sets it aside.

the distinction between uncle and madam does not go unnoticed. nor does, at length, that 'was'. so, the man that took him in passed away, and left him to the care of a woman who should have been considered an aunt but was instead a madam.

wei wuxian does not have many scars — but he thinks of the brand he saw, and his frown deepens at one corner. ）

Stand. The leg should support your weight now.

[He stands as directed and lets out a soft exhale of relief, fixing Itachi with a gratitude filled smile.]

You didn't have to. Thank you. [There's still feel a slight ache, but it's barely noticeable in comparison to what it was before.]

And you didn't even need any needles. [He can't help adding, lips twitching with amusement. Despite the weight between them and the tension that hasn't entirely faded, he feels warmth in the presence of his friend, and gratitude for more than just the healing.]

I considered them.

（ it's a spark of dry humour as he reclaims his seat. time ticks by, and he does not seek to stopper silence. it is not until he has lifted his tea and lowered it in turn that he speaks: ）

The ability I used on you is called Tsukuyomi. When wakened, the mangekyō sharingan often manifests one or more unique abilities in the user. Tsukuyomi is the absolute control over an opponent's minds and perceptions. It is all but unbreakable. But it is a weapon, and I should not have turned it on you. I apologize.

[He wasn't going to ask.

He'd considered it. Not at first. Not when the weight of his guilt was too overwhelming for him to even think it wasn't something he'd deserved, but a week after their first painful conversation when the guilt remained but was no longer an ever widening sinkhole, he had considered asking if he ever had the chance.

The day before, when they'd agreed to meet, the thought had crossed his mind again, and he'd eventually dismissed it. Maybe one day, but not now.

Itachi's ability—Tsukuyomi—had been...uncomfortable. It's the easiest word for him to use. At the time he'd been so consumed with Itachi's reaction that the void of black he'd been trapped in had been a secondary concern. But as the minutes passed and the trap kept it's hold, his discomfort had grown. And he'd hated the seed of doubt in him that wondered how long it would last.

He looks away briefly, dropping his eyes and shaking his head.]

It was reactive. I understand. [There is an urge in him to dismiss it. To wave it away as nothing. It wasn't nothing though, and to do so would be disingenuous to both of them so instead he says] I forgive you.

Absolute control, huh? [The words are light and interested, but there's a knowing look in his eyes when he raises them again. The sheer power and terror of a weapon like that doesn't escape him. Nor that all Itachi did was give himself space to get away.] What does that mean exactly?

（ his mouth thins, and there is a faint considering tilt to his head as he debates what and how much he wishes to divulge. until now, there has been a partition, a line drawn between his past and present. but the lines are now blurred, and wei wuxian knows more than he should.

it is not that he is uncomfortable, exactly. if other people knowing of his myriad cruelties could have an identifiable impact on him, it would have broken him years ago. it is simply that he no longer feels like he is entitled to the person he has been becoming — as if a collar has tightened around his neck and drawn him back into the world he is increasingly aware he has been leaving behind.

the ring on his right hand is abruptly an impossible weight.

i forgive you. black eyes drift away at those words, though his expression does not change. unsettled, perhaps, is the word for it. the apology had not been intended to evoke those words, and they are claustrophobic. ）

Its primary use has been torture.

（ it's said with no more inflection or concern than how one discusses the weather. ）

It is advantageous, in my line of work, to create disabling sensation in one's mind that leaves no mark upon the body. Tsukuyomi's only limit is my imagination. I can force an individual to live decades within it, with no escape and no hope of death, and their mind will perceive it as time truly spent. Everything within it feels real to the one experiencing it. The twenty minutes you were aware of — did you happen to glance at the clock, afterwards? You would have found no time passed at all.

（ it was merely meant as a distraction. shunshin was sufficient to gain ground between them, but the time perceived meant that wei wuxian would not have thought to follow him, considering him too long gone. ）

[Given what he knows of Itachi's past, it doesn't come as much of a surprise, but his heart still sinks with the delivery of it. Wei Wuxian is no stranger to torture. There is no other word to describe what he did to Wen Chao, and even now he doesn't regret a single minute of it. Still, he remembers how young Itachi had been in that memory and wonders if this too was something he took part in as a kid. He shakes his head and takes a sip of his tea, not speaking until he's put it down again.]

I didn't notice. [He was too busy breaking down on the steps of the school to do something like check a clock but he would literally die before admitting that to Itachi.

It occurs to him to wonder just how upset Itachi must have been to resort to a skill like that in the first place. There should be wariness in him now and he knows it. Now that he knows a little more of what the man is capable of and just how violent his past is. There should be, but there isn't. Not of Itachi.]

Honestly, at first I wasn't even sure if it was something you did or if it was that terrible school. The resentful energy there is so thick at night and the things haunting it are so powerful. You were the safer option.

（ you were the safer option, wei wuxian says, as if it isn't the most absurd thing itachi has ever heard from him. the man had proven himself handily able against whatever it was that lurked in the school, it surely was not less dangerous than tsukuyomi.

which means it is less a matter of danger and safety and more one of trust.

sometimes, he thinks he could hold wei wuxian's beating heart in his hand and he would still look at him with that steady, unshakeable belief — but even sasuke learned to look at him in fear before that night.

he closes his eyes, and reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. ）

That is a matter of opinion, I think.

[Eyes raised to Itachi's, he's quiet for a moment before he nods.]

A matter of discernment is more accurate. You might be more powerful than all of the resentful energy in that school in most of the ways that count, but you aren't the biggest threat. Not to me.

[He glances at his leg, newly healed, and he closes his eyes for a moment on a swell of emotion. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet.]

Even street dogs are a bigger threat to me than you. [He brings his eyes back up.] You won't hurt me.

（ months ago, he may have been tempted to prove the man wrong. even now, something in the twitch of his fingers suggests very much he would like to wrap them around wei wuxian's throat and squeeze. he meets the man's gaze, perilously steady, but is the first to look away. it is not surrender so much as the sheathing of a weapon. ）

I would not wish to. Do not confuse that with won't.

[He considers the distinction for a moment and then acquiesces.]

That's fair. [He's hurt plenty of people he didn't want to after all.]

It still matters to me. I choose to trust in that, Itachi. [I choose to trust you.]

（ he — sighs, tiredly, and then shakes his head as he lifts his tea. it's mostly cooled now, but he isn't about to let it go to waste. ）

You are a very foolish man, Wei Ying.

[Finally, the hint of a smile to accompany the warmth inside of him.]

Maybe. [But not for this, he doesn't say, sensing that both of them can only take so much of this at once. He sips at his own tea and his smile brightens faintly as he lifts the cup to peer inside.]

You didn't answer. Did you bring this from the ship?

Station.

（ he's a pedant, it is Known. ）

Yes. Gyokuro.

（ he sends him a message as well, of the accompanying kanji — 玉露. ）

[Ignoring that with nothing but a soft snort.]

It's good. [A twitch of his lips.] And it's actually tea.

Not, [He starts, holding up one hand defensively before Itachi can give him A Look] that I expected any less from you.

[The herbal mixes are fine and all, but they aren't tea.]

Mm. It was the one thing I made time for, with my work. I visited a tea shop in every country on the continent.

（ with jūzō, and later with kisame. it was an indulgence he could never quite train himself out of, one of the only kindnesses he could stand to accept for himself. ）

[He smiles down into his tea and packs that fact away. This might be the closest he's ever come to Itachi talking about something he likes and he's not going to forget it.]

Then I'll request tea from Yunmeng so that you can try it. The teas in Yunmeng are smooth and not bitter at all. Do you like bitter teas? [He makes a face. Gusu's tea was the worst—or at least some of the tea they served in the Cloud Recesses, but they seemed to like their tea that way.]

Not especially. I do prefer some measure of sweetness.

（ look......... he has a sweet tooth. let him live. ）

Good! [And then] On E23-b you weren't interested in going out drinking, though from what I've heard, the alcohol there was barely consumable.

Do you ever drink liquor at all? [As he speaks, he aimlessly swirls the tea in his cup, a habit he normally subjects his stronger drinks to.] I know my wines much better than my teas, I'll admit.

You might imagine there are reasons it is not especially wise for my inhibitions to be lowered.

（ it's not a no. he has consumed liquor on occasion, and he can forcibly expel it with chakra readily enough if he has such a need. but there is little point when he finds next to no enjoyment in the act. ）

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