Well, here's the sequel to Accord that I promised, making it the sequel to my sequel of Avengerhawk's Acquiescence. That's way too complicated. Sigh. No matter, the same warnings for yaoi and whatnot are applicable here, but there won't be any smutty goodness until the next chapter (sorry guys!), when the rating will go up.

Anyway, enjoy! Tally ho!

Meadie out.

{Amity}

{Chapter One}

Uchiha Itachi felt exceptionally rested for the first time in years when he woke, his onyx eyes blinking sleepily open at the sounds of conspiratorial giggles and small, bare feet pattering in the hall outside of his closed door. The faint pink tint of the light filtering lazily through the shaded window indicated that it was still early; far too early, he concluded, for Sasuke and Naruto to be out of bed. Growing suspicious, the Anbu sank back against the immovable source of warmth that grumbled behind him, sighing as a heavy arm flopped around his slender waist, tugging him close and wrapping him with a pleasant sense of security.

"Hokage-sama," Itachi hummed flatly, "Hokage-sama."

"'Tachi, don't call me 'Hokage-sama' in the morning," Minato scolded with a dramatic yawn, nuzzling into his guard's dark hair and placing an easy kiss beneath his ear.

A loud crash and two heavy thuds echoed through the house and interrupted their agreeable respite, and the Uchiha felt a miniscule grin tug at the edge of his lips when the blond groaned with frustration. The thumping of naked feet falling heavily upon the worn wooden boards of the hall urged the pair to part, increasing the space between their bodies casually, just quickly enough to avoid too many unreasonably personal questions when two small figures intruded. Not bothering to knock, Naruto led the charge, brazen and noisy as he pounced upon his father, blue eyes wide with excitement as he struggled against his well-earned entanglement with the sheets.

"Dad! Itachi-san! Dad!"

"Aniki!" Sasuke chimed, running to his brother's side.

"What could possibly make you decide to get up this early?" Minato teased his child, ruffling his hair playfully and trapping his small body in a headlock. "Do you have any idea what time it is, Naruto?"

"Some Anbu guy was here and he brought you a scroll!"

Itachi shared a silent, suspicious glance with his master and tugged Sasuke into his lap, brushing the boy's ebony hair from his brow and giving him a light jab on the forehead, grinning faintly. "So it was his fault that you both were up so early? Do you intend to blame all of that commotion on the Anbu as well, otouto? Did he stomp through the hall and break something in the living room?"

A faint pink tint painted itself over the young Uchiha's cheeks as he pouted dramatically, glaring at Naruto and meeting an equally bitter blue stare in return. "Nii-san, it wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't my fault either, dattebayo!" the blond angrily retorted, squirming free of the Yondaime's grasp and pointing an accusatory finger at the other boy, disregarding the slight frown that began to tug at his father's lips as he read the document his son had offered him.

Hokage-sama… the raven haired Anbu thought, ignoring Sasuke's pitiful requests for his elder brother's assistance with a shuriken jutsu later in the afternoon, why do you make that expression? What troubles you now?

"Sasuke!" Minato suddenly interjected, the odd cheeriness in his tone causing Itachi to narrow his eyes when he was casually handed the scroll, "It seems that your nii-san is going to be a bit busy today, but I could help if you don't mind being taught by me instead."

The boy, clearly lacking Naruto's suffocating enthusiasm, chewed his lip in contemplation for a moment before finally agreeing at his brother's insistence. "To be personally taught by Yondaime-sama is a great honor, Sasuke," the elder Uchiha chided gently, "He is far more skilled than your aniki, I guarantee."

"Hai. Arigatō gosaimasu, Hokage-sama," the pale-skinned child confirmed with an awkward bow, though the injured expression in his obsidian eyes caused a stitch of hurt to rip through Itachi's chest, sickening and painful like a wound of the flesh. As an Anbu, the Uchiha prodigy had been carefully stripped of his ability to feel by the intensive training he had endured from such a tender age, like a raw nerve so persistently assaulted that it at last became numb. Yet despite such impressively conditioned stoicism, one nerve remained sensitive, easily and often struck.

Otouto, the elder thought silently, little more than a mild frown etching into the rigid porcelain of his features, so precious. So pure. That boy stood alone in the forest of Itachi's indifference, tall and painfully noticeable amongst the other trees that had sprouted and stunted there, begging to be hit repeatedly by the lightning cast as a weapon against him. Sasuke was simultaneously his greatest weakness and grandest strength, fueling his existence with a delightfully unpleasant variety of discord that managed to propel him forward despite his doubts. They would ever remain, from the elder's perspective, perfectly out of sync and opposites to the core; Sasuke angelically pristine in his blinding innocence, while he himself was shrouded in darkness and steeped in blood. Much as the two identically poled ends of magnets would ever refuse to touch, they – as brothers woven from the same parentage and similar in nearly every way – would never collide. And Itachi felt that it was only right to maintain that invisible, unconquerable wall between them.

Minato's voice yanked the guard from his dismal musings with a cheery tone as he shooed away the boys to ready themselves for training, his voice lowering as the door slammed shut and they were once again left alone. "Read it," the blond ordered, gesturing to the scroll clenched tightly in the Uchiha's fist and placing messy kisses along his subordinate's shoulder. "Danzō is already hoping to get his hands on Shisui, it seems."

"So soon," Itachi replied in a haunting monotone that vaguely resembled an inquiry. He quickly scanned the document as he ignored the elder's affections, and permitting himself a frown, the Anbu carefully placed the scroll back in Minato's grasp. "I will go assess my cousin's condition; he should be able to test his new eyes by now."

"Those eyes are likely of the greatest interest to Danzō; I'm sure he's curious to see how well Shisui can grasp the Sharingan of another. How often do these things happen? The exchange of Sharingan within the clan, I mean."

Sighing mildly, the Uchiha glanced at the other man and rose gracefully from the bed, shrugging out of his yukata as he began dressing himself for the day, ever conscious of the bright blue gaze that roved across his slender body. "Infrequently, at best," he replied, tugging on his shirt. "The last occasion I can recall was Uchiha Madara himself, when he took the eyes of his remaining brother, Izuna, after he was terminally wounded by Senju Tobirama. Madara was then able to develop the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. Should Shisui obtain a similar ability, it will be a fearsome weapon indeed. Just like our ancestor, my cousin has always had superior visual prowess and chakra control, even within the clan; certainly not to the caliber of Madara, but impressive by modern standards, nonetheless."

"I see," the Hokage muttered, suddenly turning taciturn and contemplative.

Itachi eyed the blond warily, pausing for an instant as his fingers hovered silently over the doorknob. Moments like this that had been arising between them far more frequently as of late, inexplicable and concerning, and the vague awkwardness that dwelt in the quiet caused the Anbu to feel an odd uneasiness in his veins. Expressionless, he said nothing, suffering through the seemingly endless seconds until his master recovered from his catatonia and once again brightened the space between them with a feigned smile. Still, the Hokage's distance did not appear to be caused by the darkness that had previously urged him to force himself upon his Uchiha guard, but was rather a product of some residual melancholy. Whether recent or long past events were the cause of the Yondaime's sadness, Itachi could never be sure. Regardless, the phenomenon filled him with an indescribable disquiet like the wings of crows fluttering in his stomach, though his countenance never betrayed it.

The elder shinobi's voice was hauntingly sweet as he drew his guard's attention once more, rising from the bad and moving his more solid frame to silently trap the Uchiha between himself and the door. "Itachi, I know you well enough to see the frown in your forehead," he teased, and the Anbu held his breath when his master placed a gentle kiss on his brow, "Stop worrying so much, you don't have to protect everyone. That's my job. Sasuke and Shisui and Naruto… I'll protect them all. Including you."

Fixing the blond with a vacant stare, Itachi huffed almost inaudibly and permitted the tautness of his body to slacken slightly in amusement. "Very well, Hokage-sama. If you'll excuse me…." He purred before slipping out the door and into the hall, skillfully evading the squabbling boys in the kitchen and stepping into the biting morning air.

Fog still bled through the streets of Konoha when the Uchiha skipped swiftly from rooftop to rooftop, his footsteps muted like raindrops on sand as he habitually moved through the village in shadowy silence. His mind began to drift away from the autumn chill that nipped at his skin, analytically recalling the words that had been scrawled on the scroll from earlier that morning. Danzō was already insisting that Shisui, as a valuable shinobi within Konoha, be released into the custody of the Foundation's medical team, despite scarcely having recovered from tearing out his own eye and flinging himself into the Naka River. Itachi had been overcome with nauseating shock while watching the elder Uchiha's silhouette plummet towards the water's surface; but he strangely found that this development with Danzō, which he had easily anticipated, to be far more unnerving. The man's unwavering greed would sanction him to admit Shisui as a member of the Foundation despite having lost one of his most valuable assests, and that knowledge urged the younger Anbu to fear for his cousin's safety. Something peculiar was bound to happen, Itachi knew, and a black cloud of anxiety hovered on his periphery, invisible as it nagged the porcelain ninja's conscience.

Skittering to a stop on a rooftop near Konoha's hospital, he heaved a single sigh before alighting upon an open windowsill and slipping quietly into a room pasted in sterile white tile and lined with largely unoccupied beds. Itachi permitted his habitually suppressed chakra to flare for a moment, and the mass beneath the blankets of a bed on the far side of the space promptly stirred, sitting up suddenly in the darkness.

"Hey, 'Tachi," the figure called in a weary, but jovial voice, turning a bandaged face to acknowledge the welcome intruder and beckoning the younger to his side.

"Shisui," Itachi replied while removing his Anbu mask, his typically vacant tone melting in the elder Uchiha's presence to become vaguely warm with relief, "how are you feeling?"

The short-haired shinobi chuckled lightly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips when he spoke, though his tone was melancholy. "I should be asking you the same thing. Is Sasuke alright? It must be hard on him… losing his parents so young."

"And knowing that his brother was nearly the one to kill them."

"You were doing what you thought was best for the village, Itachi. He might not understand it yet, but he will someday. But," Shisui added lowly, pulling a stiff Itachi against his chest in an awkward but genuine embrace, "I understand, and you weren't wrong."

Itachi shrugged reluctantly into the elder's warmth as guilt clawed at his heart like a caged beast, making him sick with nausea, though his perfectly impassive expression never revealed such a sense of foreboding. Again he was wracked with remorse at the mention of Sasuke's name, his sole remaining nerve struck once again as he was reminded of the vile deeds he had nearly committed against his family and his clan. It had scarcely registered that he had miraculously been saved from treachery by the same man who owned his body as a tool, as a weapon. Now he found himself cleared of outward guilt, though not of conscience, and residing with that very same man, sharing his bed willingly and no longer out of obligation or duty.

"Oh," Shisui interrupted the younger's thoughts, pulling away from their embrace, "I would like to thank the Hokage, if possible. He saved me, right?"

"He will likely bring Sasuke to see you later today. Otouto has been asking about you constantly."

"The Yondaime is with Sasuke?"

"Hai," Itachi responded awkwardly, his voice falling away for a moment before he collected his composure. "We have been staying with Hokage-sama. After the incident he was very insistent, and Sasuke has become good friends with his son. Minato felt that it would be in Sasuke's best interest that he stay away from the place where our parents died until he can learn to cope with the loss."

"Oh?" Shisui questioned, quirking a brow curiously, "Minato said such a thing?"

I used his first name… the younger thought as he was struck by the realization of his mistake, the slight widening of his obsidian eyes the only external indication of the raging panic that pounded through his veins.

Laughing openly, the other Uchiha shrugged before ceasing his taunting with an easy huff. "I wish I could see your face right now. You may look like a porcelain doll, but I can still read you like a book, 'Tachi. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you," he began again, growing solemn in the gentle light of the early morning as it filtered through the wispy linen that shrouded the windows, "will you ever be bothered by the fact that from now on, I'll always be looking at you through your father's eyes? Because I just want you to know that I'll keep seeing you as the Itachi I know. Nothing will change."

"I made that choice," the younger informed dryly. "However, I must apologize for doing so without your consent, as I fear that it may cause you nothing but trouble in the future. Danzō may attempt to steal your Sharingan again."

"I'm not worried. He will wait until it develops before taking action, so we have time."

"I simply came to give you this warning."

"And I have a warning for you," Shisui interjected when the other Uchiha stood to leave, sliding his weasel-faced mask over his identity once more. "Technically you are head of the clan now, Itachi. The elders will be watching you like hawks, so be cautious. They may know of your discontent."

"Hai, arigatō. Get well, Shisui, I will come to you again soon," Itachi replied softly before flickering from the room, stealing once more into the dimly lit streets of Konoha and returning to his master's home, closing the door silently behind him.

It was eerily quiet, the sounds of conspiratorial giggles and naked feet on wooden floorboards and childish bickering plainly absent, making the ebony-eyed shinobi distinctly nervous as he fished a kunai from the pouch at his hip. Making his way down the hall with perfect stealth, the Uchiha at last reached his master's door, opening it as silently as possible as he prepared for the worst, fearing that Madara had once again made an appearance and finished his prior work. Itachi heaved a sigh of relief once he stepped inside, the tension in his posture slackening as he removed his mask and placed it gingerly on the nightstand before dropping to his knees beside the bed. The Hokage lay motionless in the center of the mattress, two small figures curled contently against his sides, their sleeping breaths easy and monotonous as they sought out soothing respite.

"Don't wake them up," Minato whispered as he cracked open a single cerulean eye to assess the guard, "they've been bouncing off the walls all morning."

"Sumimasen, Hokage-sama, if my otouto has been a nuisance," the Anbu purred, fondly brushing the disheveled raven hair from Sasuke's brow and gracing the dozing child with a rare smile. Minato wormed his arm from beneath Naruto as he slept sprawled across his father's solid form, and Itachi internally flinched when the blond lay a large hand against his porcelain cheek, thumb tracing the troughs beneath his expressionless eyes.

"Come to bed," the Yondaime sternly murmured when he lured his guard down for a chaste kiss, and the Uchiha permitted himself a faint smile as he settled himself into the mattress, pulling his brother's delicate frame firmly against his chest.

He could hear Minato hum contently, and Itachi allowed himself a moment of peace, temporarily forcing his guilt back into his belly and away from the space around his heart. All of this felt far too natural, and he felt far too underserving of even an instant of happiness, especially when it came at the price of tainting Sasuke by holding him close with his own blood-stained hands. It was selfish, the onyx-eyed shinobi brutally scolded himself, to feel such contentment; not when he was a monster, trained to kill and incapable of anything aside from following orders and taking lives. Yet Minato had lately developed a way of speaking to the guard that made many suggestions sound like firm, authoritative commands, and thereby alleviated some of the remorse he felt when indulging in pleasant activities; like making love with his master, or lounging in bed with his brother as he was now. Though it was an agreeable diversion, Itachi could not help but internally oppose the blond's incessant pampering, for fear of any complacency that may consume him.

Still, while marveling in silence at the stark contrast of his own ivory skin against the rich bronze of Minato's as the elder wove their fingers together sensually, the Uchiha rejected his despondency for a delightful second, and savored his long-deprived contentment.