（ he can play instruments — to varying degrees of the word 'play'. the perfect recall of the sharingan makes it simple to impress musical refrain upon the mind, but it's more mimicry than actual talent. he has never, for a variety of reasons, turned his hand to musical skill. ）
No.
（ his eyes track the flute — even in his own world, instruments can be used to channel genjutsu, so he is innately wary even without full awareness of what cultivation can do via the channel. ）
It's common where I'm from for people who are as skilled as you to also be proficient in music. "The four arts." [He waves a hand in the air, rolling his eyes and lifting his dizi for Itachi to see.]
Cultivation is only for the privileged, and so, cultivators must be refined. Proficient in music, art, calligraphy and all number of respectable hobbies. The gentry is the gentry no matter the world, I'm sure. Have you met Zewu-jun? Ah, that is Lan Xichen?
You've seen him, right? Elegant, refined. Looks like he's never tripped or cursed or done anything unpleasant in his whole life. [The laugh he lets out now has just a touch of derision.]
He plays the Xiao flute and his playing is renown for its skill. That's what a cultivator is supposed to be like.
（ there are always eddies and whorls of nuance to be gleaned if one pays mind. wei wuxian's irreverence is not new. it is obvious he has no patience for those highborn souls that lack empathy for those beneath their station. he would not have thought lan xichen to be among them, but that contempt is a very real thing, given breath and form on the wings of that laugh.
he cants his head to one side faintly. ）
Does it trouble you, that you are different?
（ resentment is not quite the right word. he does not feel that the glimmers of anger he has felt beneath the surface of wei wuxian's discussion on cultivation are for his own treatment so much as the way cultivators, perhaps, treat others. but there is still an element of... failing to belong, perhaps, that he understands well. he too was ever a stranger among his own people, his clan, his village. ）
[His eyes go wide for a moment before he breaks out into soft laughter.]
No, never. I was taken in by one of those gentry families. Fed, clothed, and trained. Given opportunities I never would have had without them. I owe them everything. They took me off of the street. I would have died a starving orphan and no one would have given two shits, just another starving poor kid. [The last part is said without any malice despite the brutal reality it presents. That was simply the way of the world. It was always a debt he could never ever repay. He couldn't have then and he certainly can't now. Probably they should have just left him to die.]
And because I wasn't one of them by blood, I had so much more freedom than so many of them. It was a good place to be. All of the privilege and half of the responsibility.
[But. But.]
But my differences made me see things in a way most of them didn't. Cultivators are supposed to serve the people. They're supposed to protect them. To stand for justice. What good is perfect calligraphy when a cultivator ignores those in need because their cases are too simple to bring them any glory? What does it matter how well someone plays the xiao if they won't stand up for the innocent when they need it most?
[He can feel the bitterness and anger rising to the surface at his own words and it feels good. He's been trying not to dwell on any of this since he'd arrived. How could he throw stones when he's the one responsible for so much death and loss? How could he possibly think to judge anyone else?
But he's angry. God he's so angry at the injustice of it all.]
（ as sad stories go, it's nothing he's unfamiliar with. the shinobi world is full of such things. children taken in because they present a use or fill a need or serve a purpose. they are the lucky ones, but like wei wuxian they carry the scar of that injustice the whole of their lives. he does wonder, which role wei wuxian filled for his adoptive family — because he suspects it was not generosity that bade them take him in.
he has always ached for such people. he aches now, in a way he has learned to put aside. but, for what it's worth — ）
I agree with you. Those with power are often blinded by it. When you forget who you wield it for, and why it is your duty to do so, you are already lost.
Forgetting their duties, hmm? [There are so few in his life who'd ever agreed with him. Some played lip service to the concept and a rare few truly felt the same. Hearing Itachi's agreement and the simple sincerity with which he speaks makes something tighten in his chest and he has to look away, if only for a moment.]
There are four leading cultivation sects in my world. There were five, but one of the leaders went mad with power and the other four fought a war to stop him.
[He's quiet for a very long time as he recalls the events that followed the war. He doesn't really know why he's telling Itachi all of this, but it feels good, to share just a little bit. To give voice to the angry thing living inside of him.]
We won the war. [Despite the statement of victory, his voice is only hollow.] And in the aftermath, that mad man's people were gathered up and killed. First, his soldiers and spies. Brutal but necessary. Then his court. Maybe their loyalty never could have been trusted. And then...and then those four righteous clans—those refined cultivators in charge of protecting the innocent—they gathered every elderly man and woman, every craftsmen and doctor, every child who had the misfortune of stemming from that mad man's bloodline, and they slaughtered them.
[There were, he supposes, a few steps in between, but the end result was the same. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and sees the bodies of the Dafan Wen hanging from the walls at Koi Tower. Has it already been a month? The memory feels so fresh still.]
Aiya, but I'm being unfair. [The amusement in his voice is far from sincere.] Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that one of those men had this done. One of them had no power to do anything about it at all. And the other two...the other two looked the other way.
（ each word is hammered like a coffin nail into all those places inside him that live alongside guilt and shame and horror. there is no outward sign of it — he has lived this lie too long now to surrender it so — but his exhale is practiced calm.
he can see what wei wuxian describes even without superimposing his own sins atop the atrocity. there is always a war, and there are always power-hungry men eager to sacrifice others atop the altar of their own egotism.
they walk in silence, footfalls silent against the unblemished marble of this perfect, impure world, and then: ）
Indifference has a tendency to excuse atrocity.
（ it is crueler, in a way. at least if you have an enemy, you know where you stand with them. with an indifferent man, you can never be certain of when they will find it acceptable to avert their eyes. ）
I'm sorry. War is never easy to bear, much less in those circumstances.
No, it isn't. [The agreement is quiet and Wei Wuxian feels suddenly so tired.
Indifference, Itachi says and he wonders. Maybe Nie Mingjue was indifferent or maybe he was just angry. Huaisang's brother was a good man but not a critical thinker, and he'd lost a father to Wen Ruohan. Wei Wuxian had not expected him to step in. Zewu-jun was not indifferent. He knows he wasn't. Couldn't have been. But he did not step in and Wei Wuxian doesn't know why. Maybe it's terrible that for this reason he holds Zewu-jun in greater contempt. He was the one who knew better and still he did nothing.
Oblivious to the nerve he has pressed on in his companion, he exhales and shakes his head, gathering himself and beginning to reassemble his mask. As they wander, he pushes open a door at random and once he assesses the forest pathway the door has revealed, he steps inside and holds the door for Itachi.
The pathway turns into a mountain hike and even knowing how impossible this should be, Wei Wuxian revels in the clear mountain air, tracking off of the path until they come across a crystalline waterfall that feeds into a small pool of clear blue water. He takes a deep breath and feels some of the gathered tension retreating back inside of him as he takes in the sight.
Eventually he speaks again after having remained silent for a long while.]
I'm sorry. You didn't ask for that. It all feels so recent for me and being in this place surrounded by people who have no idea...it's nice but so strange.
You remind me of home in some ways. [He flashes Itachi a tired smile.] It makes it easy for me to get carried away.
( this new place reminds him of kisame. his tendency to select campsites that were a lush combination of features found prominently in both their countries. he was always aware of that particular courtesy, even if he did not indicate so.
he walks to the water's edge and stands apart from wei wuxian, studying the waterfall. then: )
It does not require apology. If I did not care to listen, I would leave.
[He can't help it. Wei Wuxian snorts and then lets out a full bodied laugh. It's the first time he's sounded genuinely amused in a while.]
No you wouldn't, would you? [He chuckles some more under his breath and tosses his boots, immediately hiking his trousers and robes up before wading into the water up to his calves.]
Man, what I wouldn't give to see you interact with sect leader Yao—he's a minor sect leader, pompous, obnoxious. Thinks the world revolves around his every whim. He'd probably have a qi deviation on the spot if someone just walked out in the middle of conversation. [He laughs some more and then turns a bright smile back on Itachi.]
Well I'm glad I pass muster. You're a good conversation partner, Itachi-xiong. [Despite the teasing note, the words are sincere.]
[This!! Guy!!!! Wei Wuxian's jaw falls open in an incredulous gaping look that does not hide his amusement, and he dips his hand into the water to send a wave of water in Itachi's direction.]
You! [Rude!!! He's so rude!!! Wei Wuxian loves it.]
（ he could move. he's quite a bit quicker than wei wuxian, and dodging a bit of water is nothing when one is accustomed to dodging knives thrown with cruel precision. instead, he just lifts a hand to block it from his face. ）
I apologize. Perhaps I should consider your feelings before I speak.
You should! I have so many feelings Itachi-xiong and I am very delicate, can't you tell? [The sulking words come with another wave of water and this time he wades closer, splashing more than once in indignation.]
And don't think I don't know you're not being sincere! Not even a little bit!
（ in response to that, he simply vanishes. shunshin bears him a distance away, where he is abruptly standing out on the water of the pool, supporting his weight with chakra. he simply raises an eyebrow, as if to convey that he is unimpressed with this new tack.
this is a light moment. camaraderie of a sort he has not known in years. yet — he does not feel light, experiencing it. knowing where it will end, and why. it is not the same as those last days of summer spent with sasuke while the sword of damocles hung over the throat of their clan, but it is an echo of it. a ripple through time.
he can think of nothing else but the sunset over a stark cliff, the call of the void in the open air over a river far enough down to drown in. and then he blinks, and the memory is gone. ）
I'm not certain 'delicate' is the word I would use.
（ his tone is wry. amused. never let it be said he lacks devotion to his lies. ）
[What a fucking cheater. Wei Wuxian might be impressed if he weren't so busy being exasperated. Itachi is a menace. Why didn't anyone tell him he was a menace? Wei Wuxian balls up his robes and inner shirt and tosses them to shore and then submerges himself in the water completely. He resurfaces a moment later and swims the rest of the way to where Itachi is standing.
After treading water for a moment, he swims a circle around him all the while keeping his eyes on Itachi's feet and trying to figure out how exactly he's doing that. He's channeling qi, obviously, but how the water acts as a surface to support the qi is beyond him. Letting out a soft huff, he turns his gaze back up to him.]
Then what word would you use to describe me? [Is the question he asks when he does finally speak, smirking and raising one eyebrow. He does not ask about how he's standing on the water. Wei Wuxian is going to figure it out himself or die not knowing.]
（ an old habit: he tracks the progress of the man's undressing not because there is comeliness about him, but because he is looking for weapons in all those places where it is simple to conceal. the inside of the wrists, the small of the back, senbon in the long hair.
he is still as an evening's long shadow, any movement so imperceptible as to seem imagined as wei wuxian swims close. the only point he concedes is to look down. ）
[The smirk breaks open into full bodied laughter and Itachi will find Wei Wuxian unarmed in more ways than one. Despite his secrets, his laughter here—the easy joy and friendliness in it—is entirely sincere. It's easy to laugh around Itachi. Even with his restrained demeanor, Wei Wuxian sees traces of something more in him. Itachi is funny. He is kind. He's patient and for all that he insists they are not friends, he endures Wei Wuxian's antics with grace.]
Much more flattering than I expected. And certainly true. [It is not the first time he's been called as such or something similar in less flattering terms.]
You only have yourself to blame, Itachi-xiong. I find it very difficult to pull myself away from people I like.
[He snickers again and then leans back in the water, floating lackadaisically on his back. Someone as observant as Itachi will probably notice that he's very comfortable in the water, moving in it like he's been doing it his whole life.]
I won't argue that one either. [He tilts his head then, curious] Do you swim?
（ though that isn't saying much. itachi tends not to do things without purpose, every action deliberate, its outcome set on predetermined paths, each thing mapped and minded. fun, enjoyment, relaxation — all very rarely factors for him.
he does partake of hotsprings, but most of the water he and kisame encountered in their travel were lakes, oceans and streams. cold, especially nearer the north. it made his chest seize and his lungs burn. he had no tolerance for it. he has not been swimming since he was a boy, and even that was teaching sasuke. ）
["Not recreationally" feels like it applies to most things Itachi does in life. Probably, except for secretly being petty and fooling everyone into believing he's not. Wei Wuxian is sure Itachi enjoys that recreationally all the time.]
It's always more fun to swim with other people. Come race me! I'm sure you'll win but maybe I'll make you work for it.
（ the body-flicker carries him back to shore, and he goes through the motions of undressing without ceremony. unlike wei wuxian, he strips down to nothing, entirely unselfconscious, as prepossessed of elegance and poise clothed as not. his haori is folded neatly, the kimono and undergarments set atop and treated likewise. once everything is set aside, he undoes his hair in its low tail and winds it into a bun, securing it deftly much higher up than prior.
(perhaps he is catlike in this — a natural distaste for being any more wet than absolutely necessary.)
when he wades into the pool it's cooler than he likes, but the fact that his body retains no trace of its illness here means it troubles him less. once the water is hip-deep, he segues into a breaststroke. he may not have wei wuxian's wealth of comfort in the water, but having mastery over one's body means he is hardly ungainly.
he reaches wei wuxian's general vicinity and — ）
I will refrain from using chakra. That will make it more fair. What are the conditions of your race?
[Okay well. Damn. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment at Itachi's disrobing and then he shakes his head, snickering to himself. It's not strange even if it's not technically proper. They're both men. Beyond that, Itachi is, well. Wei Wuxian might not be interested in him or anyone at all, but he has eyes and Itachi is beautiful. In fact, Wei Wuxian can only think of one man more beautiful than him. That's not a very fair comparison though given Lan Wangji was a god among men.
Anyway.
Wei Wuxian watches him fold his clothes neatly into a pile and has to look away to keep from laughing hysterically. He's still laughing a little under his breath when he turns back.]
Well, it's not very big so maybe we can make it a few laps. From here to the waterfall and back twice. We have to touch the wall at the fall. What do you think?
（ he treads water with an easy stroke, tilting his head faintly to survey the stated path. he has no real desire to win at anything — even when he was young, he cared less about contrasting himself against competition and more about being better than his own attempts in the days, weeks, months prior. he and shisui kept track of their bouts, but he didn't care about the numbers. win or lose, it was the company that sustained him then.
he is indifferent here. he has nothing left to prove to anyone, and is no longer driven to better himself in all avenues of his life. this is intended as play. so... he will play. ）
That is acceptable. Ah — one moment.
（ he summons a clone, performing the one-handed seal while he is treading water without so much as an interruption. a clone appears, though it is standing on the water beside him rather than swimming in it — just as naked and considerably less wet, but otherwise a perfect copy. wordless, it turns and heads for shore so as not to provide an obstacle for the coming race, and itachi nods to it as it goes. ）
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No.
（ his eyes track the flute — even in his own world, instruments can be used to channel genjutsu, so he is innately wary even without full awareness of what cultivation can do via the channel. ）
Why do you ask?
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Cultivation is only for the privileged, and so, cultivators must be refined. Proficient in music, art, calligraphy and all number of respectable hobbies. The gentry is the gentry no matter the world, I'm sure. Have you met Zewu-jun? Ah, that is Lan Xichen?
You've seen him, right? Elegant, refined. Looks like he's never tripped or cursed or done anything unpleasant in his whole life. [The laugh he lets out now has just a touch of derision.]
He plays the Xiao flute and his playing is renown for its skill. That's what a cultivator is supposed to be like.
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he cants his head to one side faintly. ）
Does it trouble you, that you are different?
（ resentment is not quite the right word. he does not feel that the glimmers of anger he has felt beneath the surface of wei wuxian's discussion on cultivation are for his own treatment so much as the way cultivators, perhaps, treat others. but there is still an element of... failing to belong, perhaps, that he understands well. he too was ever a stranger among his own people, his clan, his village. ）
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No, never. I was taken in by one of those gentry families. Fed, clothed, and trained. Given opportunities I never would have had without them. I owe them everything. They took me off of the street. I would have died a starving orphan and no one would have given two shits, just another starving poor kid. [The last part is said without any malice despite the brutal reality it presents. That was simply the way of the world. It was always a debt he could never ever repay. He couldn't have then and he certainly can't now. Probably they should have just left him to die.]
And because I wasn't one of them by blood, I had so much more freedom than so many of them. It was a good place to be. All of the privilege and half of the responsibility.
[But. But.]
But my differences made me see things in a way most of them didn't. Cultivators are supposed to serve the people. They're supposed to protect them. To stand for justice. What good is perfect calligraphy when a cultivator ignores those in need because their cases are too simple to bring them any glory? What does it matter how well someone plays the xiao if they won't stand up for the innocent when they need it most?
[He can feel the bitterness and anger rising to the surface at his own words and it feels good. He's been trying not to dwell on any of this since he'd arrived. How could he throw stones when he's the one responsible for so much death and loss? How could he possibly think to judge anyone else?
But he's angry. God he's so angry at the injustice of it all.]
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he has always ached for such people. he aches now, in a way he has learned to put aside. but, for what it's worth — ）
I agree with you. Those with power are often blinded by it. When you forget who you wield it for, and why it is your duty to do so, you are already lost.
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There are four leading cultivation sects in my world. There were five, but one of the leaders went mad with power and the other four fought a war to stop him.
[He's quiet for a very long time as he recalls the events that followed the war. He doesn't really know why he's telling Itachi all of this, but it feels good, to share just a little bit. To give voice to the angry thing living inside of him.]
We won the war. [Despite the statement of victory, his voice is only hollow.] And in the aftermath, that mad man's people were gathered up and killed. First, his soldiers and spies. Brutal but necessary. Then his court. Maybe their loyalty never could have been trusted. And then...and then those four righteous clans—those refined cultivators in charge of protecting the innocent—they gathered every elderly man and woman, every craftsmen and doctor, every child who had the misfortune of stemming from that mad man's bloodline, and they slaughtered them.
[There were, he supposes, a few steps in between, but the end result was the same. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and sees the bodies of the Dafan Wen hanging from the walls at Koi Tower. Has it already been a month? The memory feels so fresh still.]
Aiya, but I'm being unfair. [The amusement in his voice is far from sincere.] Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that one of those men had this done. One of them had no power to do anything about it at all. And the other two...the other two looked the other way.
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he can see what wei wuxian describes even without superimposing his own sins atop the atrocity. there is always a war, and there are always power-hungry men eager to sacrifice others atop the altar of their own egotism.
they walk in silence, footfalls silent against the unblemished marble of this perfect, impure world, and then: ）
Indifference has a tendency to excuse atrocity.
（ it is crueler, in a way. at least if you have an enemy, you know where you stand with them. with an indifferent man, you can never be certain of when they will find it acceptable to avert their eyes. ）
I'm sorry. War is never easy to bear, much less in those circumstances.
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Indifference, Itachi says and he wonders. Maybe Nie Mingjue was indifferent or maybe he was just angry. Huaisang's brother was a good man but not a critical thinker, and he'd lost a father to Wen Ruohan. Wei Wuxian had not expected him to step in. Zewu-jun was not indifferent. He knows he wasn't. Couldn't have been. But he did not step in and Wei Wuxian doesn't know why. Maybe it's terrible that for this reason he holds Zewu-jun in greater contempt. He was the one who knew better and still he did nothing.
Oblivious to the nerve he has pressed on in his companion, he exhales and shakes his head, gathering himself and beginning to reassemble his mask. As they wander, he pushes open a door at random and once he assesses the forest pathway the door has revealed, he steps inside and holds the door for Itachi.
The pathway turns into a mountain hike and even knowing how impossible this should be, Wei Wuxian revels in the clear mountain air, tracking off of the path until they come across a crystalline waterfall that feeds into a small pool of clear blue water. He takes a deep breath and feels some of the gathered tension retreating back inside of him as he takes in the sight.
Eventually he speaks again after having remained silent for a long while.]
I'm sorry. You didn't ask for that. It all feels so recent for me and being in this place surrounded by people who have no idea...it's nice but so strange.
You remind me of home in some ways. [He flashes Itachi a tired smile.] It makes it easy for me to get carried away.
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he walks to the water's edge and stands apart from wei wuxian, studying the waterfall. then: )
It does not require apology. If I did not care to listen, I would leave.
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No you wouldn't, would you? [He chuckles some more under his breath and tosses his boots, immediately hiking his trousers and robes up before wading into the water up to his calves.]
Man, what I wouldn't give to see you interact with sect leader Yao—he's a minor sect leader, pompous, obnoxious. Thinks the world revolves around his every whim. He'd probably have a qi deviation on the spot if someone just walked out in the middle of conversation. [He laughs some more and then turns a bright smile back on Itachi.]
Well I'm glad I pass muster. You're a good conversation partner, Itachi-xiong. [Despite the teasing note, the words are sincere.]
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（ this is a joke. he's teasing you. ）
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You! [Rude!!! He's so rude!!! Wei Wuxian loves it.]
So cruel to me Itachi-xiong!
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I apologize. Perhaps I should consider your feelings before I speak.
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And don't think I don't know you're not being sincere! Not even a little bit!
[This time he's getting a two handed splash.]
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this is a light moment. camaraderie of a sort he has not known in years. yet — he does not feel light, experiencing it. knowing where it will end, and why. it is not the same as those last days of summer spent with sasuke while the sword of damocles hung over the throat of their clan, but it is an echo of it. a ripple through time.
he can think of nothing else but the sunset over a stark cliff, the call of the void in the open air over a river far enough down to drown in. and then he blinks, and the memory is gone. ）
I'm not certain 'delicate' is the word I would use.
（ his tone is wry. amused. never let it be said he lacks devotion to his lies. ）
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After treading water for a moment, he swims a circle around him all the while keeping his eyes on Itachi's feet and trying to figure out how exactly he's doing that. He's channeling qi, obviously, but how the water acts as a surface to support the qi is beyond him. Letting out a soft huff, he turns his gaze back up to him.]
Then what word would you use to describe me? [Is the question he asks when he does finally speak, smirking and raising one eyebrow. He does not ask about how he's standing on the water. Wei Wuxian is going to figure it out himself or die not knowing.]
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he is still as an evening's long shadow, any movement so imperceptible as to seem imagined as wei wuxian swims close. the only point he concedes is to look down. ）
Persistent.
（ in a word. ）
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Much more flattering than I expected. And certainly true. [It is not the first time he's been called as such or something similar in less flattering terms.]
You only have yourself to blame, Itachi-xiong. I find it very difficult to pull myself away from people I like.
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And self-indulgent.
（ that's like... three words. ）
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I won't argue that one either. [He tilts his head then, curious] Do you swim?
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（ though that isn't saying much. itachi tends not to do things without purpose, every action deliberate, its outcome set on predetermined paths, each thing mapped and minded. fun, enjoyment, relaxation — all very rarely factors for him.
he does partake of hotsprings, but most of the water he and kisame encountered in their travel were lakes, oceans and streams. cold, especially nearer the north. it made his chest seize and his lungs burn. he had no tolerance for it. he has not been swimming since he was a boy, and even that was teaching sasuke. ）
Are you asking me to join you?
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It's always more fun to swim with other people. Come race me! I'm sure you'll win but maybe I'll make you work for it.
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（ the body-flicker carries him back to shore, and he goes through the motions of undressing without ceremony. unlike wei wuxian, he strips down to nothing, entirely unselfconscious, as prepossessed of elegance and poise clothed as not. his haori is folded neatly, the kimono and undergarments set atop and treated likewise. once everything is set aside, he undoes his hair in its low tail and winds it into a bun, securing it deftly much higher up than prior.
(perhaps he is catlike in this — a natural distaste for being any more wet than absolutely necessary.)
when he wades into the pool it's cooler than he likes, but the fact that his body retains no trace of its illness here means it troubles him less. once the water is hip-deep, he segues into a breaststroke. he may not have wei wuxian's wealth of comfort in the water, but having mastery over one's body means he is hardly ungainly.
he reaches wei wuxian's general vicinity and — ）
I will refrain from using chakra. That will make it more fair. What are the conditions of your race?
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Anyway.
Wei Wuxian watches him fold his clothes neatly into a pile and has to look away to keep from laughing hysterically. He's still laughing a little under his breath when he turns back.]
Well, it's not very big so maybe we can make it a few laps. From here to the waterfall and back twice. We have to touch the wall at the fall. What do you think?
'i am looking respectfully'
he is indifferent here. he has nothing left to prove to anyone, and is no longer driven to better himself in all avenues of his life. this is intended as play. so... he will play. ）
That is acceptable. Ah — one moment.
（ he summons a clone, performing the one-handed seal while he is treading water without so much as an interruption. a clone appears, though it is standing on the water beside him rather than swimming in it — just as naked and considerably less wet, but otherwise a perfect copy. wordless, it turns and heads for shore so as not to provide an obstacle for the coming race, and itachi nods to it as it goes. ）
When you are ready, it can announce our start.
there's so much nudity happening where does he look
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