As it were, Itachi's channels of chakra were a mess, throughout his entire body, but especially within his head. The chakra twisted around his brain, behind his eyes, and it was bright and angry and red, a color not quite unlike the color his eyes used to be. Sometimes the chakra would pulse, would tighten, and Itachi would feel peculiarly human in the way the pain would make him stumble and gasp for breath and feel childishly weak.

"Itachi-san?" Kisame asked, and Itachi hissed at the sound, tightening his hands into fists. He wasn't weak, would never be weak. This irony, this little joke life was playing on him, was nothing but that. A joke. He was stronger than it, better than it.

"Let me alone," he snapped when he felt the larger man's hand rest on his shoulder. His head was pounding, the chakra was coiled tightly in his body, and it wanted an outlet, a sprung leak.

"Your chakra-"

"It's fine." The desperate voice was his, and he was surprised at its tone. He bit back another sharp word, closing eyes that couldn't see. "I can fix it myself. It's fine, I'm fine."

"You'll attract attention," Kisame said, and his hand was on the back of Itachi's neck. The teenager snarled at the pressure of Kisame's fingers, and the older man pressed on the points.

x

When Itachi felt awareness, he also felt the rush of fear that was becoming a regular occurance. He couldn't see, couldn't feel, he was lost, he didn't know-

"Where?" he asked, and his voice sounded rough from disuse. There was movement to the side, and the surface beneath him sank a little lower. A bed, with creaky springs and dirty feeling sheets.

"A hotel, Itachi-san." Kisame's voice was almost soothing, when Itachi bit down the urge to kill the man. The teenager began to reach for his chakra, just for a sharp jab, something to warn Kisame, but his channels felt strangely empty.

"What did you do?"

"I drained off your chakra. It was out of control again, it was-"

"I was fine," Itachi snarled, and he hadn't felt so angry for years. His body felt too loose without chakra coiling inside. It felt as though he were about to fall apart any moment, and he was falling apart, mentally and emotionally and physically, and again, the irony hadn't escaped him.

"Of course, Itachi-san." Kisame's words were coddling, humoring, and Itachi reached for chakra that'd been drained the point of not being there, and he came up empty once more.

"I'll kill you." He was tired now, anger draining away as easily as Kisame had drained away his chakra, and he rolled over onto his side, away from Kisame. He hadn't felt so humiliated since he was a child, when he still felt emotions like salt on raw skin. He hadn't been so pathetic, so small and out of control, since he was first sent to the Academy. The feeling of being reprimanded grated on him, and he couldn't strike back without misjudging the distance, or the strength behind the strike, or anything else.

"Itachi-san-"

"Go to sleep, Kisame."

"It's only noon." The older man's voice was gentle again. Gentle didn't suit Kisame, didn't suit either of them, and Itachi didn't bother to try to keep his words gentle in return.

"Then find yourself a whore." Itachi touched the sheets beneath him. They felt crusty, dirty, and he had a faint urge to burn his body clean.

He could barely hear the footboards groan beneath Kisame's heavy weight, and the door whine as it was opened, and the click as the door met the frame. Itachi felt tension in his muscles fade away, just a little, and he tucked his hands back into his cloak. Kisame was a fool who tried to be a hero in between whores and Hunter-nin and draining chakra from geniuses who made the hokages look like children.

Kisame was nothing but a hero with a whore, and Itachi was nothing but a whore with a hero.

Sometimes, it made Itachi feel a little sick.

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