👤🔀👤 (sagekisame, enjoy being twice as tall and powerful)

Send me ‘👤🔀👤’ for our muses to switch bodies for one thread. || Accepting

Was it normal, he wonders.

To feel a bit of genuine horror at seeing your own body less then a meter away from you?

At least–

At least it was breathing. Itachi’s hand is trembling. His blue hand. A quick glance in a kunai and he confirmed he was piloting his partner. But why? None of them had done anything out of the ordinary the night before. They traveled across two countries in one night, and set up camp in a dense cluster of trees.

He reaches over, and prods at his own shoulder. ….Get up.

okay, 👤🔀👤

Send me ‘👤🔀👤’ for our muses to switch bodies for one thread. || Accepting

Something is off in the time it takes consciousness to return to him. His body feels ill proportioned, a heavy weight on his chest. Itachi keeps still, listening to the sounds around him, taking in everything before he dares open his eyes.

The mattress he is sleeping on feels softer. More of him is sinking through.

The sheets are of a differing material. The air even smells different.

But none of that compares to the slow burning internal panic when he sits up and realizes that not only is his location different, so is his body.

His brain refuses to adjust, making the simple task of slipping out of bed and locating a mirror that much more difficult. It is laborious.

Pale skin, and white eyes. This is a Hyuuga, but Itachi cannot put a name to a face alone, tucking his shirt around his chest tighter in an attempt to flatten it, and alleviate some of the discomfort.

A release is pointless, and only heightens the sinking feeling in his stomach. He can think of nothing in last night’s activities that would merit him waking in a different body, with full motor control.

The panic must be pushed aside. Itachi locates a stray hair tie on the girl’s dresser, and pulls his hair back. He has to rummage through the girl’s clothes, trying to find something suitable to wear for travel, and something he can layer to flatten the chest further.

The maids find it odd that Hinata doesn’t greet them on her way out. Her new hairstyle looks nice, however.

Surely the Leaf will not mind if he borrows one of their messenger hawks to send Kisame a message. Itachi would just leave right now… but he remembers that the Hyuuga clan are even more possessive of their own than the Uchiha ever were.

‘👤🔀👤 (can we do this?)

Send me ‘👤🔀👤’ for our muses to switch bodies for one thread. || Accepting

This isn’t good.

This is one of the worst possible situations he could think of. And he’s still racking his brain trying to figure out exactly how this happened. The Yamanaka are famous for a jutsu which takes control of another’s body, but…

Was this actually reciprocal? Was Sasuke running around in his body?

The room he’s in is dark, and musty. Only two candles near the door illuminate anything. But it’s not as if Itachi doesn’t know where he is.

This is one of Orochimaru’s bases. Somewhere Sasuke knew–

If he’s escaped from Kisame he’s likely returning here…

Itachi takes a deep breath, tipping his head back, eyes firmly shut. Just relax, Itachi. You need to get out of here, and find Kisame.

👤🔀👤

Send me ‘👤🔀👤’ for our muses to switch bodies for one thread. || Accepting

The sound of the alarm clock going off at 5:30 sharp actually terrifies Itachi. He awakes with such a jolt, straight up onto a sitting position, fists balled at his side.

…This isn’t the inn Kisame selected.

Brows furrow, as his vision clears and he’s presented with a single person room. There’s a problem when the edges aren’t blurred, and when the entryways are clear in his sight.

Performing a genjutsu release serves no purpose, and Itachi is left staring at his hands. The skin is darker…

Wary of his surroundings, he exits the bed slowly, inspecting the nearby rooms to make sure that he’s truly alone. Channeling chakra to his eyes proves useless, but at least the attempt is made.

The face in the mirror is one he does not recognize. But the flak jacket hung tidy behind the bathroom door tells him that whomever he is inhabiting is a Shinobi of the Leaf.

…Wonderful.

He does not plan to stay and play pretend. Itachi finds whatever clothes are suitable for travel and packs whichever weapons are available.

If his hunch is correct, then this shinobi was in his body in return. It presents a load of problems, not only for himself but for Kisame.

Umino Iruka never does show up for class, but rumour has it he was seen exiting the village gates, with quite the scowl.

“Did you like them,” asking as she combs her hair, “I took your advice, but I bought heart shaped ones instead.” She gives a little smile in his direction.

“They made a wonderful late-night snack.” Granted, protocol was that he should eat them during the day alongside his wife, but…his work granted him no reprieve on holidays.

He did at least save a few.

Sarada has been drawing for a while now, all kinds of crayons scattered on the table she is currently sitting at. She’s so concentrated that she sticks her tongue out a bit, her brows furrowed. When Itachi is near enough to hear her she calls out to him. “Uncle, uncle, look what I drew!” It may be a bit wonky, but she certainly got her father’s and uncle’s hair right. “It’s our family.”

“It looks good, Sarada.” Look at all those spikes of crayon to denote his little brother’s hair. He adds a small squeeze to her shoulder. And there was the pink head inbetween all of the black. A little odd, but certainly not unwelcome.

Sarada will need new black crayons soon.

What a day to spend with him. It’s like the president and vice president of Konoha’s virginity club got stuck together and decided to celebrate all by themselves. Anko’s setting up one of the traps he planned out, carefully winding the wire like he told her to. What fun. What a great fucking time. Fucking kill her.

Itachi’s inability to connect with people thankfully spares him of a lot of discomfort and awkwardness when it came to picking up on other’s cues.

Which means her inner tirade about today is entirely lost on him, even if he is noting she’s wiring a little too tensely…

“You’re going to wire your fingers.”

Since whatever he was doing was taking longer than usual, she goes to bed. Leaving the neatly wrapped box of chocolates she had crafted earlier that morning. With his suggestion she goes out to find a better mold. These being the best so far it’s her gift to him. Just a simple thank you.

He’s almost burned through his candle. Dealing with the clan is a whole entire job of its own, utilizing skills entirely different than normal shinobi work. It might not be physically tasking, but he ends up exhausted most nights anyways.

If only he’d discussed these sorts of things with his Father before… he’d always claimed to be so open-minded when he was young. Apparently that didn’t count when it was a person he disliked.

Itachi calls it quits when he feels another migraine coming. Blows out the candle, on its last inch of wax, and uses the residual light filtering from the walkway to make his way to the kitchen.

It is a nice gesture. Nice is an understatement. She may not know the details, but her support is there nonetheless. It does give him some sense of relief, and he makes sure to eat a few as he downs an acetaminophen with his tea.

He’s been sick for the past few days, locked away in his room. He peeks from under the covers when he hears his door slide open. “Itachi,” he croaks,” you shouldn’t be here.” He doesn’t want his little brother to catch this. It’s been hell dealing with it. Pushing himself to sit up, Sasuke reaches for a tissue and blows his nose.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Okay, three days and 13 hours, but that was a long time for him. Mother told him the same thing, that he shouldn’t come near Sasuke, that the illness was contagious.

But he’s gotten fed up with what little they’re doing to help Sasuke. It wasn’t right isolating him…

“I brought you soup.”

As in, he watched his Mother cook it and stole it when she wasn’t looking.

Here have a reason to rant about SasuIta

Sasuke/Itachi

The Mun’s rating || NOTP / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / BROTP / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / OTP

The Mun’s thoughts || Sasuke and Itachi come in a variety of flavors. There’s the more popular Problematic™flavor, in which Sasuke is inbetween his Post-Truth period and before the 4th War Period. He’ll do anything to keep his brother by his side. He’ll kill for him, even if not necessary. His brother belongs to him and he’ll make sure Itachi knows it. Anyone who so much as touches Itachi will be cut into tiny little pieces.

Then there’s the fluffy “We just want to settle” flavor, in which Sasuke is 35 years old and is tired of fighting and knows he wouldn’t win against the village anyways. All he wants is to be with his brother. He can’t fight for a pardon or justice, or anything else like that, but his brother makes him happy and that’s his only wish. He’s not even specifically possessive, either, and will gladly let people interact with Itachi as long as they aren’t obviously a threat, and in that case he’ll let Itachi take care of it himself first. Please, just let us rest. That’s all we ask.

The Muse’s rating || Fuck NO / Totally bros. / don’t know… / I’d ship it.

The Muse’s thoughts || “….”