#followyou

Dutchiha:

"Shinobi are 'glorified hitmen' at the end of the day," Itachi said with his chin on his palm. A candle illuminated the grass between him and Shisui and the flame threatened to eat Itachi's trousers. Over Itachi's lap lay an old scroll he'd nicked from the library's Closed Section with Special Books. "That's what Ruki said a while ago. I've been thinking. Could there ever really be a "moral shinobi"? A lot depends on how one understands “shinobi” the term. As the Fourth Hokage said, 忍者 (ninja) can be interpreted literally as “endurer”. 忍 also has associations with stealth. It’s a beautiful kanji with deep meaning and associations. The Third Hokage's idea of "a person who does ninjutsu, more ninjutsu than anyone”: is… hm." He didn't like to speak badly of older people.

@shisui-uchiha-anon​:

Shisui sighs, how come Itachi always manages to put him up to things like this? We will just nick and put it back, no one will ever know. Besides, you can flicker it back as fast as the wind blows. He was always the thinker the planner, Shisui would dare to tease him saying the nerd.

"Well, genius, your pants are about to catch fire"

Shisui sighs as other hears nothing, so immersed in reading that scroll, Shisui just moved that candle away.

The screams, the struggles, the choked exhalation of betrayal; the desperate scrabble of blunt nails against wooden floors; the cries of those who do not die in one blow. That is the life of the shinobi the life those two lads had. Instead of going carelessly to school, they had to learn fast and think like adults. The fact that Itachi rook this scroll is saying it all.

He was worried about something.

"Itachi." Shisui tries again.  "Will you now tell me why we stole this and what is this all about?"

Tonight, Shisui had to be patient. Itachi looked up from the scroll. His puzzled expression became neutral, and then puzzled again as he looked down. He repeated one or two sentences softly to himself, as if committing them to memory the hard way--without copying.

“I don’t understand it. It adds up, and it doesn’t,” Itachi said. He held up the scroll, and held it against the moon as if that would help. The light pierced through the cracks, but nothing odd was going on.

Itachi closed his eyes in defeat. 

The breeze tugged on their hair, on their clothes. The grass waved hello and goodbye, equally unsure as Itachi’s mind.