Unearthed

[kasarin]

TITLE: Unearthed
AUTHOR: kasarin (kasarin/kasarin)
FANDOM: Naruto
RATING: Teen and Up
CHARACTERS: Hoshigaki Kisame, Uchiha Itachi
RELATIONSHIPS: Hoshigaki Kisame/Uchiha Itachi
TAGS: AU - Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Compulsion, Blood Drinking, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Self-Harm (for feeding purposes)
SUMMARY:

Against his will, Kisame's foot takes a shuffling step, bumping against the bottom of the staircase. Get out, something within him pleads. Get out, get out, get out!

Then another voice reverberates through his body, deep and resonant, filling his soul with pure purpose:

Come closer.

Unearthed

Three months after the visions began, Kisame finally finds the tomb.

Perhaps it should have taken more time. Perhaps Kisame should have doubted the visions for longer, questioning his sanity instead of heeding their instructions. Perhaps he should have sought a priest instead of pouring over old books, combing their pages for obscure references, somehow invariably locating whatever information he needed. Perhaps he should have doubted the deep and melodic voice that rumbled in his heart, promising that he would understand in time.

Or perhaps Kisame should have located the tomb more quickly. After all, the visions came to him alone—that's what the voice said. So why didn't he believe in them immediately? How could he leave their source trapped for three long months?

Although, when he looks at the tomb, Kisame knows it's been far more than three months. Three decades, perhaps, since the tomb was last tended, leaving it half-buried in trees and vines. Far longer still since the tomb was constructed, ostensibly as the resting place of some long-forgotten lord. (But of course, the visions have shown Kisame that that particular tale is entirely false.)

Cutting his way through the overgrowth takes time. The plants seem determined to stop him, ensnaring his limbs and tangling his blade. Kisame presses on regardless, slashing his way through branches and vines, carving a path to the tomb's entrance. There, he jambs a crowbar into the gap between the wall and door, muscles straining as he pries open the heavy stone slab.

Finally, the door creaks open. Stale, dusty air greets Kisame, wafting from the depths of a dark, stone-hewn staircase. Panting, Kisame leans a hand against the doorframe, the tomb's cool air chilling his sweat-slick skin.

Is that why the hair on his arm suddenly rises? Is that why he feels a shiver down his spine? Or could it be…

Kisame shakes his head, dismissing the thought. The secret behind his visions awaits below. He has nothing to fear.

After lighting a torch, Kisame begins descending the staircase, each step filling him with a renewed sense of anticipation. The air feels strangely thick in his lungs, each inhalation and exhalation requiring far more effort than it should. Kisame pushes through his discomfort, only pausing at the bottom of the stairs. There, he rests his forehead against a stone wall, trying to calm his racing heart.

Why is his body reacting like this? Does it mistake his eagerness for fear? Is that why a little voice in his mind screams for him to flee up the stairs, leaving the tomb far behind?

Against his will, Kisame's foot takes a shuffling step, bumping against a stair. Get out, something within him pleads. Get out, get out, get out!

Then another voice reverberates through his body, deep and resonant, filling his soul with pure purpose:

Come closer.

Kisame obeys, stumbling deeper into the tomb. He raises his torch high, firelight flickering on carvings decorating the walls, the ever-changing light rendering them all but illegible.

"Where are you?" Kisame asks the air, searching in vain for anywhere a man might hide. But the tomb is empty, devoid of even a coffin.

Closer.

Again, Kisame obeys, walking deeper into the dark, following what feels like a rope around his heart. It guides him, tugging him to a specific spot on the stone floor, then—

Dig.

Kisame looks down. The floor is made of stone, just like the walls. But he isn't about to let that stop him.

"Dig," he repeats, kneeling down. Then he jambs his crowbar into the seam between two stones, digging, heaving, dragging it from its earthen bed. "Yes," he breathes, levering the stone to the side, exposing the soil below. "Of course I'll dig. I'll dig until I find you."

Approval washes over him, warm as an embrace. Kisame smiles, props his torch against a wall, and digs.

He has no idea how long it takes. Long enough that his shirt is drenched in sweat, his hands scraped raw from metal and stone. Long enough that his body begins to panic again, begging him to flee. But eventually, the compulsion to dig eases, and he sits back, staring down at his work. He has dislodged stones and earth in the rough shape of a man, digging a hole deep enough that he could lie in it if he chose. Fortunately, the voice doesn't ask him to do so.

Here.

Kisame complies, digging again—but carefully this time, heeding some unspoken command. Then he spots something buried in the earth and switches to digging with his hands. His fingertips brush cloth, old and caked with dirt. Heart pounding, he sweeps the soil away, gradually revealing the shape of a face beneath a shroud.

"Is it you?" he whispers, gently clearing away more dirt. "Are you who I've been searching for…?"

Unearth me.

Shivering, Kisame does so, clawing through the soil until he unveils a shrouded body. Gently, he lifts it from its grave, laying it upon the stones.

This is wrong, his mind tells him. The body is wrong. Why is it intact? Why hasn't it decayed? This is wrong!

Kisame, the voice whispers, silencing Kisame's thoughts.

"Yes," Kisame murmurs, reverently touching the shrouded face. "I'm here. Please, tell me what you need."

Look into my eyes.

Without hesitation, Kisame pulls back the shroud—and then sucks in a gasp.

Blood-red eyes stare up at him, gleaming in the dark. They fill his vision, his mind, his body, encompassing him within a scarlet glow, urging him closer, closer, closer.

"Of course," Kisame whispers, understanding. Then he uses his blade to slice a vein, holding his bleeding wrist against pale, dry lips.

The eyes stare into him, burning and soothing all at once, drowning him and drinking him in. Slowly, Kisame lays down beside the still-shrouded form, watching as those lips suck at his wrist, drawing strength from his life. His eyelids grow heavy, his body relaxing against the ground as though to sleep. Just when darkness begins to creep at the edges of his vision, the lips cease their suckling, and the wet swipe of a bloody tongue seals his wounds.

"Thank you."

Kisame shudders as that voice slides over his skin, enveloping him in its embrace. He knows it well; he has heard it for months. But hearing it aloud is so much more, soothing wounds on his soul that he didn't know existed. Through half-lidded eyes, he watches the figure rise to its feet, discarding dirt and dust with each smooth, sinuous movement.

"Who are you?" Kisame asks from his place on the ground, gazing up at the beautiful, bare figure.

The figure doesn't answer immediately. He stretches as though from a long sleep, muscles moving smoothly under pale skin. Then he crouches down next to Kisame, those scarlet eyes capturing Kisame's gaze again. A hand reaches out, slender fingers brushing Kisame's face, tracing his cheekbone.

"Itachi."

"Itachi," Kisame repeats, shivering again. "I'm so glad to finally meet you…"

A tiny smile graces Itachi's lips. "And I, you."

Carefully, Itachi slides his arms beneath Kisame's shoulders and knees. Then, seemingly effortlessly, he scoops Kisame into his arms and rises to his feet.

"You're mine," Itachi says, cradling Kisame close. "Now and always."

Kisame smiles, relaxing in Itachi's arms. "That sounds wonderful."

Itachi smiles again, then ascends the staircase, carrying Kisame out of the tomb and into the night.

Author's Notes:

crossposted to ao3 here.