it is a simple thing: a picture of the lotus pond in the sunlight room.
when wei ying arrives there, itachi will be seated at its edge, pants rolled to his knees, bare feet in the water up to his shins. and he, who very rarely shies away from eye contact, does not look at the man. tension sings in every line of him, taut as a garrote drawn across the naked column of a neck.
his hands are laced between his knees, and he makes no move to invite wei ying into his space as has become their custom.
aloud, he says only — )
If you cannot contain your anger or your sympathy intended on my behalf, I would ask that you instead leave me in peace, and return when you have marshalled yourself.
( there are so many things he can stand, but not that. and saying so, politely, is the compromise to allowing him near at all. )
[The walk over had helped a little, as does the sight of Itachi with his legs in the lotus pond, but he still has to consider Itachi's words carefully. The anger has sunk beneath the weight of his sorrow, but whether he can contain that sorrow...
It's a long while before he moves again, and when he does he sits across from Itachi rather then next to him, removing his shoes and rolling up his pajama pants so that he can mirror his pose and dip his legs into the water. Itachi will understand that his choice to stay is implicit agreement to his terms.
He doesn't have to like the terms to understand that at least right now, they're what Itachi needs.
For a long while, he says nothing. It would be peaceful if it didn't threaten to plunge him straight back into emotions that Itachi shouldn't have to bear, and he pulls his thoughts back each time, fighting the urge to do exactly as Itachi has asked him not to.]
Thank you for telling me. [Is how he finally breaks the silence, voice quiet.]
( if he were less certain of the man's character, perhaps the outcome would surprise him. as it stands — he sits in mirror of him, and dark eyes track briefly up, and then away. if wei ying was one to flinch at his monstrousness, taeum would have been the last of their acquaintance.
the water ripples away from him, as the man slips his feet into the water. itachi tracks the movement of the water until it settles, and when wei ying speaks it is the sentiment more than the sound that grates on his every sense like the wailing lament of a ghost.
his jaw shifts laterally, by a fraction. then, dispassionately — )
[He doesn't know what "ill" would look like. Not Wei Wuxian proclaiming Itachi's secrets to the world. He'd attempted to make Wei Wuxian do that himself for a goal, always so willing to throw his own comfort away for the sake of others. (Or if not others, then at least for Wei Wuxian.)
No, for ill would be if Wei Wuxian broke their agreement and expressed his anger or sympathy he thinks. That's what would hurt him. His fingers curl into fists and then open up again and he leans forward to scoop some of the sludgy water into his hand and watch it trickle between his knuckles. The pond is fairing well here. He's grateful. It's a nice addition to the room, he thinks. A little piece of home.]
What happened to Sasuke, after?
[He doesn't know if he should ask it, but it's all he can do not to crumble.
And he can't not wonder about him. The brother Itachi gave everything for.]
( he would never take pains to soften that blow. )
Within the realm of Tsukuyomi. The impetus behind the massacre could never be publicly known — so, instead, I set him on a path of revenge. He remained in the village for a time, until his desire to gain the power necessary to kill me lead him elsewhere at thirteen. I know from... an old ally that was here for a time that he lives until at least nineteen.
[He doesn't flinch from Itachi's gaze, but neither does he manage to conceal his pain. He would be lying if he said he was trying that hard to do it. He can bite his tongue and try to keep his feeling from his tone, but he can't pretend not to feel. He does eventually look away for Itachi's sake rather than his own.]
The Uchiha planned to unseat the Hokage and have my father step into the role. At the time, our clan was the most powerful within the village — but we had few friends and no allies among the other great families. They would have risen up against us, and in the ensuing civil war, Konoha would have been vulnerable to external attack.
( he has explained this before, but this is the first time it is not done to wound. there is no bite to his words, only weariness. he has worked the uchiha affair over in his mind many thousands of times like a puzzle box with no solution, no key to speak of, and until only recently he continually came to the same conclusion each time — that there had been no choice, no hope, no escape.
yet sarutobi hiruzen, who had sworn multiple times that he would speak to his father, never did. positioned as he was, the fulcrum between the uchiha and the village, he would have known — be it from the council or the secret meetings of the uchiha. no such meeting occurred. no such effort made.
it pains him, to find folly with the man. yet there is no other explanation than that. sarutobi had years, between the time he joined anbu and the coup was first a whisper until the night the massacre occurred. in that time, he had done nothing. it may pain him, but the truth is writ plain in the blood of his kinsmen.
your hands, blue had told him once. but not only yours.
it is perhaps the first time he has possessed the temerity to lay a sliver of blame at the sandaime's feet. but lay it he does. )
The Hokage was aware of this duplicity. I was tasked with observing them, and reporting back to the council — but the Uchiha became suspicious of me with Shisui's death. It was broadly assumed I killed him to take the Mangekyō. My usefulness to the village leadership was coming to an end, and the Uchiha were near their boiling point. Danzō sought to solve two problems at once — eradicate the clan he hated, and disavow the sole individual who knew him to be responsible having ended Shisui's life.
( he was poisoned, he had told wei ying once. he had not, at the time, admitted who had done so. but the man is clever enough, and mindful enough besides, to make the connection immediately. )
The massacre, therefore, was committed by a rogue agent driven mad with the genetic instability known to the clan. The Uchiha's loyalty remained untarnished. The sole survivor had the protection of the most powerful men in Konoha. And my home endured.
[Somehow out of everything, it's the suggestion that he could have murdered Shisui for power that makes him let out an angry scoff, and he quickly bites it back and keeps his gaze lowered, determined to keep his unspoken promise to uphold Itachi's wishes. It's all so much more horrible than he could have ever imagined, it's hard to process all of it which is probably for the best. It'll haunt him tonight and for many nights to come. Later though, all of that later. The anger, the outrage, the raw despair at it all will have its time.
Not now. This is not about him. His feelings on it, no matter how powerful, are not more important than Itachi's.
He rises from the pond and turns his back on Itachi, standing there for a moment to look out at the sunshine room. He isn't crying but he scrubs a hand over his face all the same, exhaling quietly. When he's given himself the moment he needs, he makes his way to Itachi's side and sits down with only a scant few inches between them. He does not face him and keeps his gaze on the grassy fields across from them.
Only after several minutes of silence have passed does he speak.]
( it skirts the spirit of the edict he had laid down, but does not break it. he watches as wei ying stands, turns.
(it would be hurtful, itachi thinks, if the man could see the brief look of surprise that he cannot cull in its infancy, when he sits back down beside him.
lucky he is choosing to direct his focus elsewhere.) )
I do not know.
( if either shikamaru or kakashi had known, neither had mentioned it to him. when he had told kakashi he would kill danzō himself, the man had not indicated it would be an unnecessary task — so he can only assume that he survives at least that long. he had always been a powerful shinobi. )
He was more powerful than I was at thirteen. He would not be so now.
Okay. [He says, because it's all he can say that isn't 'I would happily torture him to death and then scatter his body to pieces so he never finds rest.' There is in fact very little he can say at all that won't violate Itachi's wishes, so he stays silent.
After another few minutes have passed, he slumps and scoots over, allowing his side to press against Itachi's and his head to lean on his shoulder. He doesn't know if it will be welcome but he can't do nothing, and if it isn't welcome, then he can hardly take offense.]
Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and exhales through his nose before opening his eyes again. After a moment he sits up straight. He'd gotten his message across and that's what matters. He won't force Itachi to endure something he doesn't want right now.
Words continue to fail him, but that's alright. What is there to say in the face of all Itachi has spoken of tonight?
Instead, he stays seated within arm's reach. It doesn't matter that Itachi won't reach for him, only that he remains and that Itachi knows he could reach for him if he wanted to.]
( the silence is like a bleak river that twists between them, dark as a moonless night. it is a deep and fathomless thing, but — the heart knows still waters. perhaps he resisted telling wei ying for so long because he knew the man would react like this. not the inward-directed judgment, not the hatred that he has burned with for years in a form of self-immolation.
there was a reason he laid down conditions first. because the idea that wei ying could do anything but join him in the fire is a laughable one — foolish indeed.
he opens one hand, and a small rumpled leaf that had been tucked in against his palm falls to the water, where it does not sink. )
One day, perhaps, I may find the strength to forgive myself for my role in that atrocity. If I do, it will be in no small part due to those I have met here, befriended and come to love. You should know this, too.
[The fist that had been clamped so tightly around his heart loosens with the words as an inkling of hope takes root. It's more than he expected and he's warmed to be wrong. He doesn't know how much it must have taken Itachi to speak them into existence, but he knows it's probably more than he can understand.
His eyes fall on the leaf floating on top of the water and he reaches out for Itachi, setting his fingers on the back of Itachi's hand. He hopes that he'll understand it as the declaration of love that it is, and not anything born of sympathy or pity.]
You don't need me to tell you that I'll be here, either way. Still, some things should be said aloud. [Itachi might be able to read between the lines, but there is power in words. It's something he's learned only more recently.]
You are my xingan, Itachi. Until the end of our days.
( his fingers twitch faintly beneath wei ying's, but he doesn't move away.
there is something to be said for the fact that the liver is what processes poison. almost, he makes the quip.
but he is neither the first nor the last person to use humour as a deflection — so, rather than give voice to the subterfuge, he says nothing at all — simply focuses on the warmth of the man's hand, his presence and nearness, and the faint smell of camellia oil on his hair.
it is perhaps a small eternity later that he lifts their twined hands together, and presses a kiss against the back of his companion's hand.
no subject
it is a simple thing: a picture of the lotus pond in the sunlight room.
when wei ying arrives there, itachi will be seated at its edge, pants rolled to his knees, bare feet in the water up to his shins. and he, who very rarely shies away from eye contact, does not look at the man. tension sings in every line of him, taut as a garrote drawn across the naked column of a neck.
his hands are laced between his knees, and he makes no move to invite wei ying into his space as has become their custom.
aloud, he says only — )
If you cannot contain your anger or your sympathy intended on my behalf, I would ask that you instead leave me in peace, and return when you have marshalled yourself.
( there are so many things he can stand, but not that. and saying so, politely, is the compromise to allowing him near at all. )
no subject
It's a long while before he moves again, and when he does he sits across from Itachi rather then next to him, removing his shoes and rolling up his pajama pants so that he can mirror his pose and dip his legs into the water. Itachi will understand that his choice to stay is implicit agreement to his terms.
He doesn't have to like the terms to understand that at least right now, they're what Itachi needs.
For a long while, he says nothing. It would be peaceful if it didn't threaten to plunge him straight back into emotions that Itachi shouldn't have to bear, and he pulls his thoughts back each time, fighting the urge to do exactly as Itachi has asked him not to.]
Thank you for telling me. [Is how he finally breaks the silence, voice quiet.]
no subject
the water ripples away from him, as the man slips his feet into the water. itachi tracks the movement of the water until it settles, and when wei ying speaks it is the sentiment more than the sound that grates on his every sense like the wailing lament of a ghost.
his jaw shifts laterally, by a fraction. then, dispassionately — )
My secrets are yours. For good or ill.
no subject
No, for ill would be if Wei Wuxian broke their agreement and expressed his anger or sympathy he thinks. That's what would hurt him. His fingers curl into fists and then open up again and he leans forward to scoop some of the sludgy water into his hand and watch it trickle between his knuckles. The pond is fairing well here. He's grateful. It's a nice addition to the room, he thinks. A little piece of home.]
What happened to Sasuke, after?
[He doesn't know if he should ask it, but it's all he can do not to crumble.
And he can't not wonder about him. The brother Itachi gave everything for.]
no subject
I tortured him.
( he would never take pains to soften that blow. )
Within the realm of Tsukuyomi. The impetus behind the massacre could never be publicly known — so, instead, I set him on a path of revenge. He remained in the village for a time, until his desire to gain the power necessary to kill me lead him elsewhere at thirteen. I know from... an old ally that was here for a time that he lives until at least nineteen.
no subject
And what was the impetus exactly?
no subject
The Uchiha planned to unseat the Hokage and have my father step into the role. At the time, our clan was the most powerful within the village — but we had few friends and no allies among the other great families. They would have risen up against us, and in the ensuing civil war, Konoha would have been vulnerable to external attack.
( he has explained this before, but this is the first time it is not done to wound. there is no bite to his words, only weariness. he has worked the uchiha affair over in his mind many thousands of times like a puzzle box with no solution, no key to speak of, and until only recently he continually came to the same conclusion each time — that there had been no choice, no hope, no escape.
yet sarutobi hiruzen, who had sworn multiple times that he would speak to his father, never did. positioned as he was, the fulcrum between the uchiha and the village, he would have known — be it from the council or the secret meetings of the uchiha. no such meeting occurred. no such effort made.
it pains him, to find folly with the man. yet there is no other explanation than that. sarutobi had years, between the time he joined anbu and the coup was first a whisper until the night the massacre occurred. in that time, he had done nothing. it may pain him, but the truth is writ plain in the blood of his kinsmen.
your hands, blue had told him once. but not only yours.
it is perhaps the first time he has possessed the temerity to lay a sliver of blame at the sandaime's feet. but lay it he does. )
The Hokage was aware of this duplicity. I was tasked with observing them, and reporting back to the council — but the Uchiha became suspicious of me with Shisui's death. It was broadly assumed I killed him to take the Mangekyō. My usefulness to the village leadership was coming to an end, and the Uchiha were near their boiling point. Danzō sought to solve two problems at once — eradicate the clan he hated, and disavow the sole individual who knew him to be responsible having ended Shisui's life.
( he was poisoned, he had told wei ying once. he had not, at the time, admitted who had done so. but the man is clever enough, and mindful enough besides, to make the connection immediately. )
The massacre, therefore, was committed by a rogue agent driven mad with the genetic instability known to the clan. The Uchiha's loyalty remained untarnished. The sole survivor had the protection of the most powerful men in Konoha. And my home endured.
no subject
Not now. This is not about him. His feelings on it, no matter how powerful, are not more important than Itachi's.
He rises from the pond and turns his back on Itachi, standing there for a moment to look out at the sunshine room. He isn't crying but he scrubs a hand over his face all the same, exhaling quietly. When he's given himself the moment he needs, he makes his way to Itachi's side and sits down with only a scant few inches between them. He does not face him and keeps his gaze on the grassy fields across from them.
Only after several minutes of silence have passed does he speak.]
What happened to Danzo?
no subject
(it would be hurtful, itachi thinks, if the man could see the brief look of surprise that he cannot cull in its infancy, when he sits back down beside him.
lucky he is choosing to direct his focus elsewhere.) )
I do not know.
( if either shikamaru or kakashi had known, neither had mentioned it to him. when he had told kakashi he would kill danzō himself, the man had not indicated it would be an unnecessary task — so he can only assume that he survives at least that long. he had always been a powerful shinobi. )
He was more powerful than I was at thirteen. He would not be so now.
no subject
After another few minutes have passed, he slumps and scoots over, allowing his side to press against Itachi's and his head to lean on his shoulder. He doesn't know if it will be welcome but he can't do nothing, and if it isn't welcome, then he can hardly take offense.]
no subject
merely says — )
You are a very foolish man, Wei Ying.
no subject
Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and exhales through his nose before opening his eyes again. After a moment he sits up straight. He'd gotten his message across and that's what matters. He won't force Itachi to endure something he doesn't want right now.
Words continue to fail him, but that's alright. What is there to say in the face of all Itachi has spoken of tonight?
Instead, he stays seated within arm's reach. It doesn't matter that Itachi won't reach for him, only that he remains and that Itachi knows he could reach for him if he wanted to.]
no subject
there was a reason he laid down conditions first. because the idea that wei ying could do anything but join him in the fire is a laughable one — foolish indeed.
he opens one hand, and a small rumpled leaf that had been tucked in against his palm falls to the water, where it does not sink. )
One day, perhaps, I may find the strength to forgive myself for my role in that atrocity. If I do, it will be in no small part due to those I have met here, befriended and come to love. You should know this, too.
no subject
His eyes fall on the leaf floating on top of the water and he reaches out for Itachi, setting his fingers on the back of Itachi's hand. He hopes that he'll understand it as the declaration of love that it is, and not anything born of sympathy or pity.]
You don't need me to tell you that I'll be here, either way. Still, some things should be said aloud. [Itachi might be able to read between the lines, but there is power in words. It's something he's learned only more recently.]
You are my xingan, Itachi. Until the end of our days.
no subject
there is something to be said for the fact that the liver is what processes poison. almost, he makes the quip.
but he is neither the first nor the last person to use humour as a deflection — so, rather than give voice to the subterfuge, he says nothing at all — simply focuses on the warmth of the man's hand, his presence and nearness, and the faint smell of camellia oil on his hair.
it is perhaps a small eternity later that he lifts their twined hands together, and presses a kiss against the back of his companion's hand.
and then, quite abruptly, he is gone.
if anyone will understand why, it is wei ying. )