When last I knew him, he was sweet and gentle. Generous, kind to a fault. Strongly competitive, with a great yen to prove himself and his worth to our father. He lived in my shadow, and it was not kind to him.
๏ผ his voice is very distant as he speaks, no more inflection than if he had chanced to read a roster of shinobi registrations. ๏ผ
I did not see him from the time he was seven, until he was sixteen. I know very little of the man he became, and cannot say for certain how one might describe him now.
[ Shang-chi listens, putting this information to memory and feeling the hollow way it echoes something in his chest. He thinks of Xialing who was no more than ten years old before he left ... and then it wasn't until another ten years later before he saw her again.
He knows next to nothing about the person she is now, but ... he wants to. He wants to regain the last bit of family that he's got left. But something about what Itachi says strikes him as a little weird. ]
he could lie, but sees little point in doing so. a handful of people know, and he trusts shang-chi now more than he did clara then.
more than that, perhaps, is that he is tired of having mistruths inform his identity so completely he barely exists beyond them. )
No. I am dead in my world. ( there is a faint tilt of his head, reminiscent of the crows he calls. ) I met my end in combat. Very few shinobi survive to advanced age — it was not unexpected.
( it was in fact a goal, pursued with single-minded determination, from the time he was all of thirteen years old. )
Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him, or maybe it's because it doesn't, because he can see a situation where he winds up losing his own life in combat too, had also been prepared for it โ but he looks back in Itachi's direction.
Honestly, his confession only brings about even more questions ... about how he came to be here, how he could have known that, what is involved in his regret, whether he'd get a chance to see things undone โ you know, real easy conversational topics.
He nods suddenly feeling tongue-tied. ]
I'm โ
[ He stops himself, because the words feel stupid to say. ]
๏ผ there is only one sentiment he could have opted to truncate there, and itachi's expression does not so much as flicker. ๏ผ
Do not be.
๏ผ sorry. but shang-chi is good-hearted, and it stands to reason that would be the thing he reaches for. compassion is difficult to come by, in lives like theirs. it is why his mien softens after a moment, and there is a touch of a smile at one corner of his mouth as he reaches out. his hand alights briefly, there and gone, on the man's shoulder. ๏ผ
[ He nods again, nearly letting out an exhale. It's good enough to be understood without having to say the words so explicitly, but he does mean the sentiment as much as he really can.
His mouth quirks in response too, a brief reflection of Itachi's faint smile. And then he swallows, thoughtful. ]
I don't really know how it works, like at what point is it that they decide to approach us and ask us to join this team. [ Whether it's at their most desperate moment or some other crucial moment in their lives. ] But I didn't think it was possible, to bring someone in who died.
I have no memory of 'being' dead, if that eases your mind. Whether the Orb made its offer in the last gasp of my consciousness or not I cannot say. I woke in the infirmary — perhaps it is possible they were able to resuscitate me from that brink.
๏ผ he reclaims his chair, crosses his legs at the ankle. he looks — leisurely like this, perfectly at ease, commanding in a way that speaks to the upbringing of one expected, once upon a time, to lead armies. ๏ผ
However, there was a man here briefly — Shikamaru Nara, from my own world — who confirmed it.
๏ผ it is something of a lie — shikamaru said no such thing directly, but it is easy to arrange the context of their conversations such that the inference exists. he had been out of chakra, his failing heart a stutter in his chest, more blinded than not by the cruel rigors of the mangekyล, bloody from a half-dozen wounds and burns and the drain of susano'o on his life. if he was not dead when sasuke's face slipped from his sight, he does not doubt his brother would have slit his throat to ensure it. it was the only way that fight could ever have ended. ๏ผ
[ That had been some time ago ... not even long since he'd joined the Ximilia crew. ]
I met him once, in the sunlight room. We didn't talk for that long but I didn't know he was from your world.
[ But it is something of a reassurance to know that the memory of dying or being dead isn't what Itachi came to the station with, especially when that could have easily been him too had things gone really badly back home.
And there were some pretty close calls.
More than that, he genuinely does hope for the best for his friend. Because after a year slowly getting to know him, to fight alongside him, and to share in each of these missions together, they are friends. Shang-chi wouldn't even say he's got many of those. ]
It was not something either of us were inclined to advertise.
๏ผ itachi has never seen the point in being particularly secretive about what he is, and the barest amounts of what he can do. but then — he is accustomed to a certain level of notoriety. when one's face, name and life story are spilled across the pages of a bingo book, accompanied by a considerable reward for kill or capture, one learns very quickly that privacy is a tool to be wielded like any other, and discarded when it ceases to suit you. his reputation's preceding him allowed him to avoid situations that would have otherwise lead to a fight. few people want to face the sharingan, and fewer still a man so ruthless as to have murdered his own kin.
ximilia is, in point of fact, the first time in a decade that people only know what he has told them.
it's a strange, ephemeral sort of freedom. one that is still new enough to be precious to him. ๏ผ
He was from a point some three years after my death. Though he was not aboard the Ximilia long — I was grateful to learn what followed.
๏ผ whatever else happened. kakashi's war, the destruction of konoha, all the deaths — sasuke lives until at least nineteen. ๏ผ
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no subject
๏ผ his voice is very distant as he speaks, no more inflection than if he had chanced to read a roster of shinobi registrations. ๏ผ
I did not see him from the time he was seven, until he was sixteen. I know very little of the man he became, and cannot say for certain how one might describe him now.
no subject
[ Shang-chi listens, putting this information to memory and feeling the hollow way it echoes something in his chest. He thinks of Xialing who was no more than ten years old before he left ... and then it wasn't until another ten years later before he saw her again.
He knows next to nothing about the person she is now, but ... he wants to. He wants to regain the last bit of family that he's got left. But something about what Itachi says strikes him as a little weird. ]
You ... can't see him? If you went back home.
cw: light suicidality
he could lie, but sees little point in doing so. a handful of people know, and he trusts shang-chi now more than he did clara then.
more than that, perhaps, is that he is tired of having mistruths inform his identity so completely he barely exists beyond them. )
No. I am dead in my world. ( there is a faint tilt of his head, reminiscent of the crows he calls. ) I met my end in combat. Very few shinobi survive to advanced age — it was not unexpected.
( it was in fact a goal, pursued with single-minded determination, from the time he was all of thirteen years old. )
no subject
[ Shang-chi goes a little quiet.
Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him, or maybe it's because it doesn't, because he can see a situation where he winds up losing his own life in combat too, had also been prepared for it โ but he looks back in Itachi's direction.
Honestly, his confession only brings about even more questions ... about how he came to be here, how he could have known that, what is involved in his regret, whether he'd get a chance to see things undone โ you know, real easy conversational topics.
He nods suddenly feeling tongue-tied. ]
I'm โ
[ He stops himself, because the words feel stupid to say. ]
no subject
Do not be.
๏ผ sorry. but shang-chi is good-hearted, and it stands to reason that would be the thing he reaches for. compassion is difficult to come by, in lives like theirs. it is why his mien softens after a moment, and there is a touch of a smile at one corner of his mouth as he reaches out. his hand alights briefly, there and gone, on the man's shoulder. ๏ผ
Where my death was concerned, I had no regrets.
no subject
[ He nods again, nearly letting out an exhale. It's good enough to be understood without having to say the words so explicitly, but he does mean the sentiment as much as he really can.
His mouth quirks in response too, a brief reflection of Itachi's faint smile. And then he swallows, thoughtful. ]
I don't really know how it works, like at what point is it that they decide to approach us and ask us to join this team. [ Whether it's at their most desperate moment or some other crucial moment in their lives. ] But I didn't think it was possible, to bring someone in who died.
no subject
๏ผ he reclaims his chair, crosses his legs at the ankle. he looks — leisurely like this, perfectly at ease, commanding in a way that speaks to the upbringing of one expected, once upon a time, to lead armies. ๏ผ
However, there was a man here briefly — Shikamaru Nara, from my own world — who confirmed it.
๏ผ it is something of a lie — shikamaru said no such thing directly, but it is easy to arrange the context of their conversations such that the inference exists. he had been out of chakra, his failing heart a stutter in his chest, more blinded than not by the cruel rigors of the mangekyล, bloody from a half-dozen wounds and burns and the drain of susano'o on his life. if he was not dead when sasuke's face slipped from his sight, he does not doubt his brother would have slit his throat to ensure it. it was the only way that fight could ever have ended. ๏ผ
no subject
[ That had been some time ago ... not even long since he'd joined the Ximilia crew. ]
I met him once, in the sunlight room. We didn't talk for that long but I didn't know he was from your world.
[ But it is something of a reassurance to know that the memory of dying or being dead isn't what Itachi came to the station with, especially when that could have easily been him too had things gone really badly back home.
And there were some pretty close calls.
More than that, he genuinely does hope for the best for his friend. Because after a year slowly getting to know him, to fight alongside him, and to share in each of these missions together, they are friends. Shang-chi wouldn't even say he's got many of those. ]
no subject
๏ผ itachi has never seen the point in being particularly secretive about what he is, and the barest amounts of what he can do. but then — he is accustomed to a certain level of notoriety. when one's face, name and life story are spilled across the pages of a bingo book, accompanied by a considerable reward for kill or capture, one learns very quickly that privacy is a tool to be wielded like any other, and discarded when it ceases to suit you. his reputation's preceding him allowed him to avoid situations that would have otherwise lead to a fight. few people want to face the sharingan, and fewer still a man so ruthless as to have murdered his own kin.
ximilia is, in point of fact, the first time in a decade that people only know what he has told them.
it's a strange, ephemeral sort of freedom. one that is still new enough to be precious to him. ๏ผ
He was from a point some three years after my death. Though he was not aboard the Ximilia long — I was grateful to learn what followed.
๏ผ whatever else happened. kakashi's war, the destruction of konoha, all the deaths — sasuke lives until at least nineteen. ๏ผ