Sometimes, Kisame forgets that Itachi's still a child. The boy's so strong, so independent, so him, that it's hard to see Itachi as anything other than the life and breath of the Akatsuki. Itachi puts them all to shame, and he's barely seventeen.

Sometimes, though, he'll do something childish, or he'll look at Kisame, completely uncomprehending, and Kisame will feel this flash, red hot and burning, and realize, suddenly, exactly what the Akatsuki is doing. Those times feel a little bit like guilt, and those times, Kisame feels a little bit like dying. But, only sometimes.

Like right now. Right now, Itachi was stubborn, just like a child, and now he's limp in Kisame's arms, not entirely there. The wheels in his eyes are slowing down, fading away to blood red, red blood, red red red, and Kisame's shifting him in his arms, throwing the teenager over his shoulder.

See, sometimes Itachi shows how childish he is with his stupid antics and his stupid stubborn pride and his stupid belief in his own immortality, and Kisame has to save his ass, because Kisame's not so far gone that he'd let a child die. Like now.

So he's wading down into the water, the murky water up to his knees, and his waist, and shoulders, and then his face, and he's pulling Itachi off his shoulder and into the water with him, tugging the boy close to his chest. Kisame hates hiding in water, waiting for the damn hunter-nins to pass them by, but he can't fight them and watch the boy, and sometimes, like now, Kisame just wishes he had a different partner. Preferably an adult.

Kisame breathes through his gills, trying to ignore how it makes him feel sick, and pulls Itachi's face next to his, turning the boy's head so he can cover the pale mouth with his, and breathes into him, giving Itachi air. Again. And again. And again. And Kisame pretends that he doesn't want to throttle the stubborn child who didn't listen and didn't think and just got them into trouble again, forcing them to sit at the bottom of a god damned dirty lake. A lake, it might be added, that's cold.

Kisame's pretending isn't working so well.

By the time Kisame drags them both out of the lake, dripping onto the scraggly grass, Itachi's almost back. His eyes are a little more clear, not quite dull, and he's staring at Kisame, a wondering look in his eyes. He touches Kisame's cheek, soft hands with callouses in all the wrong places, and gives Kisame a strange smile.

"Mermaid," he says, voice lilting and dropping and whispering away, and Kisame remembers how much of a child Itachi really is. And right now, when Itachi has that look in his eyes, the look that says he's not quite here, and he's not quite there, and he really doesn't know where he is, Kisame doesn't really want to straggle the brat.

Not much, anyways.

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