Disclaimer: Naruto and Bleach are not mine
Warning: This one-shot contains Uchiha Itachi x Hisagi Shūhei Bleach-Naruto crossover with eventual yaoi copulation
Credit: thank you GheistWriter & MaskedSoldier for beta reading
A/N: In this fic, whatever happens to a corpse (e.g. amputation, burial, incineration) doesn't affect a soul who has departed from its body. The souls who have reached the Soul Society don't even know about their bodies unless they use a specific method to gain the knowledge, such as the shinigami's paperwork or the audio visual facilities in the twelfth division.
Shibakushou [lit. "death supremacy clothing"] = the standard shinigami uniform of Gotei 13
The ground was brown and hard and dusty. The golden solar disc still watched the lives of the puny terrestrial creatures from the lofty vault of the sky like an all-seeing eye. It was hard to believe that this was not the earth where he used to live. However, when he looked at the blood-splotched black outfit that draped his body, any doubt that he might still be alive in the human world disappeared. This was the same shirt and trousers as the ones he had worn the day he had died fighting Sasuke.
So, a lifetime wasn't enough for him to dance in the palm of the treacherous clan of Senju that he must still deal with more anthropoid beings even after death? No eternal rest existed, but an afterlife instead?
There was no consolation in a sigh, and thus Uchiha Itachi continued walking. With each step, his expression grew darker: even the gravitational force here was too similar to the world of the living. But, at least, the shabby buildings flanking the narrow street seemed like the slum in Edo Period Japan. None of the hidden villages had this kind of structure. In fact, none of the faces he had passed in the streets looked familiar so far. No more ninja to meet.
"Hey, that's a cool band! Too bad it's scratched."
Itachi halted his steps. The comment belonged to a boy who seemed to be less than a decade old. The boy's tone was very light, too light for those who possessed the knowledge that a scratched forehead protector signified the status of a missing nin. What's the situation I'm in?
"Boy," Itachi was surprised to hear how gruff his voice sounded after not speaking for...days? Hours? How long had it passed since he died? The jōnin quickly changed his tone into a perfectly emotionless one. "What is this place?"
Still with the same cheerful insouciance, the boy replied, "The one hundred and twenty-third district of Rukongai."
"Rukongai?" Itachi's eyes narrowed. Wandering Soul City?
"Yeah, the Soul Society's ghetto. Don't you even know that? Are you new here?"
But at this point, there was a sound of metal banging followed by a child's whimper from the next street. Judging from the characteristics of the voice, it was likely that the owner of the whimper was even younger than the boy who was talking to Itachi.
"Uh oh, sounds like Yachirobe is beating his brother again. Stay out of it; you don't want to get involved with a thug like him!" With that, the boy who admired Itachi's headband scurried away.
Yet, Itachi headed to the source of noise instead, leaping over the roofs of the residential houses and landing on the neighboring , a man with a pimply face hit a young boy with a piece of broken rain gutter. The boy, covered in bruises and clotted blood, pleaded, "No more…please forgive me, nī-san."
If anyone treated my brother as such…
With one swift course of his kunai, Itachi sent the gutter flying. Seeing that rescue had come, the boy took flight immediately. The missing nin would have struck the child abuser to death next, had it not for another man's interference.
Itachi sprung upward as an orange-hued tendril with spiraling yellow patterns attempted to ensnare him. Since its intended target landed on a nearby roof, the 'Disintegrated Circle' captured an empty space, where the ninja had been just a second before.
The caster of the energy circle appeared to be a man with the number '69' permanently etched on his left cheek and short, dark hair, clad in sleeveless black shibakushou. He eyed his target cautiously; there weren't that many number of people who had succeeded to evade from Bakudō #9: Hōrin. He then declared, "You are under arrest for stirring a public commotion and for a murder attempt. Surrender now and you shall not be harmed."
"Shi- shinigami!" shrieked the hoodlum, and he, too, fled.
Itachi's eyes narrowed as he looked down at the so-called 'shinigami' on the ground and inspected the patrolling officer beneath his vigilant stare.
So, the entity known as 'shinigami' really exists?
"I will not allow you to disrupt peace in Soul Society," stated the Gotei 13 soldier, face fully alert and body poised for a combat. Even though Hisagi Shūhei would not resort to violence if he could help it, the man before him was not the sort of opponent who would give in peacefully.
When Itachi spoke at last, his tone hinted a shred of annoyance—like a beast that was interrupted by another in the middle of a hunt. "Shinigami, is it too much to ask to reach a remote region of a no man's land after one's death?"
"Tired of living? Don't worry. The time for your soul to pass on will come eventually. Even the afterlife in Soul Society is not immortal." The shinigami hurled a disc-like purple spiritual energy. "Hadō #54: Haien!"
The 'Abolishing Flame' rotated at a blinding speed, only to fly and incinerate Itachi as soon as it came into contact with his skin. However, rather than being reduced to ash, the shinobi's body dispersed into a flock of crows.
Shūhei's pupils dilated; how was it possible to perfectly clone oneself down to the amount of reiryoku? But he had no more time to be surprised of his opponent's peculiar technique, for a gigantic ball of fire was after him from behind. With his shunpo, he managed to dodge the fireball, though a small portion of his hakama was burned.
Following his Fire Release: Great FireballTechnique, Itachi fired off a salvo of shuriken at Shūhei.
Reluctant though he was of his zanpakutō's shikai form, Shūhei knew this man was not the sort of an adversary he could triumph over with Kazeshini's sealed state. At its release, the katana with an octangular tsuba turned into a pair of sickles. And like the wind of death, the kusarigama blades parried off each and every piece of shuriken Itachi threw. As the clang of metal reached the vice-captain's ears, the ninja threw two kunai from above.
Shūhei looked up a second too late. Sweat trickled on the tattooed man's temple; he did not see his opponent coming. The S-class shinobi did not employ shunpo, but displayed the speed of Captain Soi Fon's level. But more than that, everything around them turned into crimson, just like the color of the missing nin's eyes. He could no longer smell the air; the only scent that lingered was that of his own blood. He could no longer sense the warmth of the sun; the only thing he felt was his own fear. Save for himself and his opponent, the place was empty.
As the deflected shuriken fell scattered on the ground like leaves after a storm, the two kunai pierced through the shinigami's his shoulders. Gritting his teeth in pain, Shūhei aimed Kazeshini higher to reach his opponent. Even so, the pain from the embedded kunai hurt him more than he had expected, hampering his movements significantly.
"Hadō #11: Tsuzuri Raiden!" In desperation, he cast 'Bound Lightning' while spinning Kazeshini by its chains. An electric current flowed through the chains to blast the red-eyed man. But Itachi's fingers formed hand sealsforSnake, Dragon, Rabbit and Tiger in a rapid succession. The jōnin then inhaled air via his mouth and, utilizing a large amount of fire chakra, spewed a large fireball onto Kazeshini's chains, making his flame and Shūhei's electricity overlap in violent torrents. Shūhei quickly let go of the zanpakutō before the fiery electric currents reached him.
Since zanpakutō was not going to work against his adversary and his injured shoulders would not bring him an effective result with hand-to-hand combat, the ninth division vice-captain resorted to kidō. "Hadō #62: Hyapporankan!"
A white rod of energy appeared in the shinigami's hand and was hurled toward the shinobi. Like before, Itachi's body metamorphosed into crows, but the rod disintegrated into myriads of smaller rods which pinned all the birds onto the nearest wall, rendering them immobile.
A pain took Shūhei by surprise. It was as though his body had been pierced by a multitude of sharp objects. He looked down and found the 'Hundred Steps Fence' he had directed to his enemy earlier now jabbing into his own body. He writhed in agony, but the more he moved, the more severe the pain became.
It would have been a blessing if the torment had ended here. However, luck was not on Shūhei's side. Kazeshini released itself from its master's grip and took an anthropoid form. Sneering, he tilted Shūhei's chin with the tip of his kusarigama. "Nice expression. You look best while suffering like this."
Shūhei had always resented Kazeshini's method and aggression, not to mention its sickle shape as well, but at least that zanpakutō had never stabbed him in an enemy's presence before. Today, Kazeshini swung his blades and began lacerating the shinigami, jeering as he did so. The zanpakutō wielder's feet were rooted to the ground; not even a muscle was movable.
At one wound, Shūhei's blood splattered.
At two wounds, the sinews within Shūhei shrieked their complaints.
At thirteen wounds, Shūhei longed to clutch his wound and scream.
At twenty-five wounds, torpor took over the reign of Shūhei's mind; he wished his excoriating torture to stop, even if he had to forfeit his life to achieve such result.
At forty wounds, the ruby tears shed by the injured flesh pooled near Shūhei's feet.
"You are not the real Kazeshini!" He may be ruthless, but he kills his preys at the first opportunity without toying with them.
At these words, Kazeshini's shadowlike physique sneered one last time before transforming into dark crows. The only difference this time was that a kunai was concealed among those crows, and it grazed the tattooed man's arm in spite of his endeavor to dodge it.
Itachi's figure—Shūhei could not tell whether this was his opponent's real body or a clone—came over. With his current agility, it was apparent that this man could have dodged all his earlier kidō effortlessly. "You purposely let me shoot the kidō to analyze my power and then chose the most effective method to torment me. Is it that exciting for you to watch your opponent squirming in despair?"
"You think this is despair? Let me show you what a true despair is." The shinobi did not sneer. Nor did he speak in any sort of derisive manner. Yet, his eyes performed a dance of crimson in their flicker.
The moment the jōnin deactivated his Sharingan, the ninth division vice-captain gasped, as though freed from a trance, and found himself suffering no physical damage. All the redness around him vanished; there wasn't even any drop of blood. Kazeshini lay neglected on the ground, steps away from where he stood. Yet, it was too early to feel relieved.
His muscles went into a lethargic state, as though they had just awoken from a long, long sleep. Worse still, he had used up too much reiatsu from the numerous kidō earlier. Although his skin was unscathed by any wound, his movements were temporarily near slow motion. During this ephemeral moment of weakness, quickly, deftly, Itachi tore Shūhei's shibakushou asunder.
"What are y—STOP IT!"
Shūhei's eyes bulged, either in horror or in disgust, or perhaps both, Itachi couldn't care less. All the shinobi cared for was that the more he gazed at his adversary, the more he desired to inflict the shinigami—the obnoxious fool who had tried to prevent him from protecting a helpless little boy—with pain.
Pushing the figure before him against a wall, Itachi examined Shūhei. Those eyes sought for power. That skin glistened with sweat. Those muscular curvatures were too far different from his former girlfriend's. This physique by no means belonged to a pretty boy, but to an entity more than a century old, whose scars indicated that he was toughened through infinite battles…
He wanted him.
How would it feel to conquer a decently strong man such as this one? To break him? To humiliate him? To taste him?
Yes, he wanted this struggling shinigami in more ways than one. Would it matter if the world shattered the next day, as long as they became one for now? Shoving his manhood inside the older man, the Konoha missing nin broke the soldier's walls of defense. The captive's own blood became the only lubrication between them. Shūhei's fists clenched each time the other man penetrated him. His tensed muscles hurt him so, but this physical wound could never be as deep as the wound of his pride.
Sapped of the strength to stand up, Shūhei's knees buckled. His collapse brought him to the other man's embrace. The Uchiha prodigy held him firmly, hoisting him by both thighs. As the younger man rocked their two bodies together, the narrowed gap between them enabled Shūhei to distinguish Itachi's heartbeat from his own gasps and ragged breathing.
Itachi watched his sweat trickling onto the soldier. The shinigami's inside fitted the shinobi perfectly, wrapping his member despite his movements, as if it was custom made for him. Hence, Itachi's rough, shallow thrusts steadily grew into precision, and this elaboration, in turn, shook his captive with tremulous desire. The Leaf missing nin could even hear a distant choir of 'more… more…' echoing inside his head at each journey he made.
This was not supposed to happen; they should go back to being strangers again as soon as the carnal activity ended. And yet…
How come the body of a man, far older than he was, slaked his thirst for lust? How come the tight ring of flesh kept drawing him in even though it contained no magnet? How come hunger seized him but his body refused anything but the frictions between their skins? Why did he find his own reflection in his victim's obsidian orbs pleasing?
Shūhei was aware that Itachi's eyes kept gazing at an imaginary space, his mind was the farthest thing from where they were...and it would have been better if the sex had been tasteless, so that as soon as it was over, it could slip easily from his mind.
But it didn't.
The following evening, when the crimson sky had bled away into the deeper color of velvety night, the defeated man reappeared before his rapist in an abandoned shed after searching him through reiryoku detection. Broken planks of wood, pieces of household bric-a-brac and other debris lay scattered on a tatami-free soil, covered in dirt. The severely punctured ceiling allowed moonbeams to bathe the place with its silvery light.
A lump formed in Shūhei's throat as he stepped closer to the resting ninja. Even though Itachi left without a word as soon as their copulation ended, Shūhei could still feel the other man's warmth inside him. The shinigami knew that he could not have resented anyone in his life more than this shinobi, who treated him—a vice-captain—like a used up disposable item. However, he was also aware that he could not have longed for anyone else that much either.
"I am Hisagi Shūhei, the vice-captain of the ninth division of Gotei 13. I have come with a request." His words were solemn. His sword remained sheathed. His gaze never left the ninja casually sitting before him.
Rather than giving a sarcastic remark such as "You shinigami surely have a strange way of living; yesterday you were trying to kill me and now you come back to plead?," Itachi stayed silent.
"Take the test for a captain; currently, three seats are vacant," Shūhei spoke again, "Even though, in most cases, a zanpakutō took form of a sword in its sealed state, it is possible to have kunai or shuriken as your zanpakutō's shikai form. The speed of your legs may not be called a 'shunpo,' but that doesn't change the fact that it is an excellent hohō. You haven't mastered any kidō yet, you do have the potential."
If I become a captain…
"Is it your wish to be tortured…," Itachi beckoned to the vice-captain insignia on Shūhei's arm, "… every day?"
The quiescence of the musty shed allowed the sound of Shūhei's sharp intake of breath to pierce the placid air. However, when Shūhei reopened his mouth, his answer—more steadfast than Itachi expected—rang clearly throughout the small space that confined them. "As long as the torture comes with a price: protect Soul Society as one of Gotei 13 captains, and you are free to do whatever you please with me."
'Protect'? The word pricked Itachi's heart more so than his ears, refreshing him of the memory of the night of the obliteration of the Uchiha Clan, of the sacrifice he had to make in order to protect Konoha.
"On your knees!"
His voice was toneless, Shūhei gathered, but colder than Hyōrinmaru's hail of ice that he had experienced during the fight between Hitsugaya Tōshirō and Tia Harribel.
As Shūhei's knees began to bend, Itachi spoke again "With your clothes off!"
There was a flicker in the vice-captain's eyes, but he removed his shibakushou nevertheless. He tossed all his clothing articles in a jumbled pile a few feet away from them, perfectly knowing that his requester would not grant him the luxury of time to fold these garments. Besides, the quicker they got over with it, the better it would be for him. Appearing naked in front of this particular man made him feel vulnerable and vulnerability was not a description befitting a high-ranked seated officer in Gotei 13.
The vision of the previous day's copulation swam through the ninth division vice-captain's mind: how the lost soul before him moved rigorously in and out of him; how his own body was defiled by their semen; and how that man left him without a word as soon as their flesh were no longer connected. Trying his best not to gulp, Shūhei prostrated himself stark naked on the ground, kissing the tip of Itachi's toe. The foot moved to kick his face, but he had expected that much. And still, he had decided to pay the visitation that earned him ravish and humiliation from another man.
Itachi's foot, no, both feet this time, prowled in slow-paced steps. Without removing his clothes, the ex-Konoha jōnin rose from his seat and knelt to plunge himself into the shinigami.
Shūhei shut his eyes abruptly as a lump of hot semi-rigid flesh jostled into him, ripping his unprepared private tunnel. He gritted his teeth to swallow his voice, fighting back an incomplete scream. Clenching his fists and breathing laboriously the shinigami received every thrust the shinobi gave. Each lunge was harder than before, and he fought hard the urge to utter, to demand, to entreat for a termination.
Notwithstanding, in just a couple of minutes, the younger of them stopped moving, and even retracted himself.
The shinigami thought it was too good for his wish to come true so soon, and he was right, for he heard the genjutsu-tsukai's command next, "Turn to face me and let your voice out!"
How much more humiliation he had to endure? The inferior man did roll over to meet his conqueror in the eye, but he snapped, "You bastard!"
"Is this the limit of your obedience?" A pair of orbs glowed red as the ex-Akatsuki member spoke. His tone was flat and his expression was as unperturbed as ever, but his fingers leisurely trailed along the '69' tattoo on the naked man's cheek.
A fresh wave swept Shūhei's mind. The original bearer of the tattoo would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for Soul Society's safety. Yet he fussed over something this trivial!
In desperation to imitate Muguruma Kensei's tattoo, Shūhei had paid the tattoo artist's service with his body, a penniless young boy he had been. The grizzly haired man had used cheap sake to prepare the child's hole. The sting of alcohol had borne no significance against the invasion of the older man's bulky erection.
That was the first and the last time Shūhei had copulated with a man before fate decreed that he should cross his path with Itachi's. The tattooist had merely toyed with him, but the shinobi was different. Something within the frictions of their skin the day before had told him there was more to it than physical need; it was almost like a longing, a passionate yearning of which reason was too deep to recognize, and he was both frightened and intrigued by this strange new feeling.
"My fault. Please continue." The shinigami averted his gaze as he spoke.
"Lie down!" ordered the stronger man with the same flat tone.
Feeling the pressure of the cold soil against the skin of his back, Shūhei took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself while waiting for the worse, or worst, to come.
Sure enough, in a matter of seconds, the next order resounded. "Open yourself to me!"
The short-haired man had to take another deep breath before spreading his legs wide and tucked them over his abdomen, knees curling against his chest. He could see his manhood clearly this way, and the warmth of a blush diffused over his cheeks and ears.
The ninja slid within him again, but it was far easier now that the blood from the rough penetration a few minutes prior had lubricated his inner tunnel. There was no reduction of power in the shove, and the man underneath did not hold back his groans.
Just as instructed.
His pride forbade him to carry on, but his body longed to be the sheath for this mighty sword. A sword fit for a captain. A zanpakutō.
"Why did you let me rape you?" Amidst their panting breaths, a tranquil voice came out of Itachi's mouth.
"Why did you rape me even though you knew I'd have let you?" replied the older man no less calmly. There was no need to spell it out loud. Even if their first time occurred because of Shūhei's inferior strength in resisting Itachi, no man should be foolish enough to turn up before his ravisher all alone the following day unless…
"Why have you chosen me as captain?" The ninja asked again, more urgently this time.
Itachi did not receive any answer until the two men's seminal fluid mingled on the hard ground. The jōnin attempted to withdraw from the shinigami's body, but the latter wrapped his legs around the other man's hips, his heels digging into Itachi's buttocks to encourage a prolonged stay and, if possible, an even deeper penetration despite the overflowing opaque liquid on the tattooed man's crotch.
Beads of sweat trickled down Shūhei's ribs as his abdominal abs inflated and deflated. The red-eyed man traced his fingers along his partner's jaw line, culminating on the older man's shivering lips. Like other soldiers, Shūhei had been fantasizing to have a woman as voluptuous as Matsumoto Rangiku as a future wife; he had even tasted the pleasure brought by the women from the red light district. Why couldn't any of them feel this intense?
Within this man's embrace, it was easier to allow himself to be led astray by the passion that flowed through his veins. He was not aware that the passion belonged to an entity older than any shinigami or even the civilizations—an entity known as 'Love.' Nor was he cognizant that the summon of Love never was revocable.
"You…," Shūhei spoke at last, after catching his breath, "… never underestimated your opponent, and hence, wouldn't be caught off guard and wouldn't lose your composure even when your opponent was more powerful than you had expected.
Whilst in possession of such powerful bloodline limit an impressive skills in genjutsu, ninjutsu and taijutsu altogether, you neither became arrogant nor misused your power to abuse anyone who opposed you. According to your life documentation, which I perused this morning, your illusion techniques are more than capable of incapacitating your enemies with real injuries. Still, you opted not to do me any harm because to you, an opponent is not necessarily an enemy.
"But most of all, you'd go to a great length so as to sacrifice yourself for the greater good."
Itachi's voice grew colder. "I massacred my entire clan."
"Bar your little brother. Even though a chronic disease had ravaged your body, you relied on drugs to prolong your life in order to fight him and die in his presence. You have always wanted to make Sasuke a hero who is truly accepted by every Konoha villager and trusted the son of the fourth Hokage to raise your brother to the light."
Your corpse was even desecrated: your eyeballs were taken out and your body was controlled to be a fighting machine. No, you don't need to know this; you have suffered more than enough.
Itachi's eyes blazed at the mention of Sasuke's name.
"He is precious to you, isn't he?"
"Sasuke will never be the shinobi that I was."
"And yet, you love him more than the Uchiha Clan, if not the whole world itself."
It was not an exclamation in the slightest; in fact, it was more of a hiss than anything else...and yet, it was a demand nonetheless.
"It's all right, our supreme commander, Captain Yamamoto, is not the sort of man who will coerce you into working as a double agent again."
By the time Shūhei realized he really should have said nothing at all, it had already been too late. Itachi's flesh inside him was hardening again. Placing one of the shinigami's calves against his shoulder, the shinobi spread his victim's other leg holding it by the thigh. The crimson-eyed man's hand covered the lesser man's mouth, ensuring no more words came out of it.
From the gap between tattooed man's sprawled legs, their eyes met. Itachi's gleam was seething with silent rage, but Shuhei's bore no regret. If this were some sort of punishment for disobedience, perhaps he would venture to provoke the younger man again another day.
With that, their two bodies began to move, pelvic bones pounding against each other.
The view of the moon shining so brightly outside the window illuminating the pair of red eyes that stared at him endlessly was the last thing Shūhei saw before everything turned into darkness.
The following year, the moon shone so brightly outside the window again, illuminating the same ruby eyes that stared at him endlessly. Straddled on Itachi's lap, Shūhei's hips bucked vigorously to join his captain in flesh, while their documents lay neglected on the desk and on the tatami of the ninth division office. But that night, the slumber's darkness did not visit him, not so soon. Amidst the exchanged sweat between two naked men, the vice-captain moaned, "Cap—ahh—tain!"
The one he addressed only stared at him in silence, eyes glowing red against the pale radiance of the moon, only to close when their lips sealed each other's.