#crmsneye

That’s not the question he means to ask. Is it?

Kakashi leans upon the tree. His flak vest drags against the bite of the bark, and somewhere high among the forest’s treetops, a squirrel chitters noisily and picks at a nut. The copy-nin sets his lone gaze toward it, mind working with the answer. Right. It is not unlike Itachi’s eyes, he thinks idly, that leaf fluttering downward all deep in its browns.

He’s younger by a bit, but he cannot fool the son of Konoha’s White Fang. Of course he regrets. He’s twenty, and shinobi do not live very pristine lives, but still. Friend killer. Murderous lead. What, exactly, are your regrets?

The Hound keeps watch. “They used to be all I had,” he offers vaguely. He has this nagging feeling that Itachi’s stilling his tongue – is he troubled? Worried about something? – but refuses to ask. “But you don’t live long here if regrets are your only company.” It makes you uncaring – a little greedy for your demise. Kakashi knows and stills by the burrow. 

“Choose your friends carefully,” he says.

Wash the blood off of him.

The akatsuki cloak is stained with blood and torn from debris. The battle had not been easy, but for their name, Sasuke had won. For his brother, he had won. “Itachi,” It’s a little breathless, pained - he didn’t get out unscathed. 

“Your eyes -- did you do your tr-treatment today? Fuck,” 

@crmsneye

          it takes him a moment to respond, caught off guard as he is by the young man’s approach. his head tilts slightly to the left, the senbon in his teeth clacking quietly as he shifts it to the side of his mouth. a slow smile spreads, something feline and sly.

          “didn’t take you as much of a philosopher, itachi.” didn’t take him as much of anything, to be honest. he’s well acquainted with hatake, he knows how dangerous it is to go into a conversation with these ‘boy-genius’ types with any preconceptions. 

          itachi isn’t  wrong, however -- and it shouldn’t come as a shock that he notices, not with how he listens, sits quietly and observes while the rest of them run their fat mouths. genma had always, erroneously it seems, assumed that it was because he had some sort of weird clan-heir superiority complex. he’s kind of glad he’d never voiced these thoughts; he knows a great many of these ‘fools’, knows they’re some of the sharpest tools in the box, so to speak. 

          he looks him over, thinks of gai, of minato, of kushina. pulls the senbon from his mouth and twirls it between his fingers idly. “you’re right, though. sometimes it’s a front, but sometimes ... enjoying the good things in life doesn’t always make someone a fool. being enthusiastic, or open, or kind,” he pauses, trying to think of a way to explain. “these things are frowned upon in our profession, and often mocked. it makes it harder to survive.” he shakes his head.