Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.  No copyright infringement is intended

Disclaimer: Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

This is an edit and re-organization.  NO NEW CHAPTERS.

Title: Gray-colored Happiness
Chapter: 1 of 42

Warnings:
1 – First person narrative. Since this is told in Sasuke’s perspective, any conjecture he has on other people’s actions or motivations needs to be taken with a grain of salt.  They are his conjectures, not fact.
2 – This was written and conceived shortly after Sasuke’s first appearance in Shippuden, so the timeline will differ.  Some parts are very similar, others very different.  Some things were worked in later – namely Kabuto – but for the most part the story completely diverges from canon after that point.
3 – A lot of flashbacks and some dream sequences. 
 
Pairings:  NaruSasu main, various others, some in the past

Thank you.

//the voice in Sasuke's head//
'speech in someone's head'
"speech"
flashback/memory
\+\dream\+\
::----::  flashback within flashback

Sunlight streams brightly through the open window, bouncing off the whitewashed walls and casting an unearthly glow over the room that is still and quiet and achingly serene.

I wish it weren't.

I blearily open my eyes, responding to a slight movement that I don’t think was part of a dream. It's been so long since he did anything but lie there, it’s hard to know for sure. Craning my neck, I look to the blond head resting on the pillow beside me.

There's another small movement.

Then his face contorts into a grimace of pain that makes a shock shoot through my body, mostly surprise, but partly anxious too.

My chest clenches as I watch the slight opening of eyes that reveal a startling blue that mirrors in some way the rising of the sun outside. Subconsciously, I tighten my hold on his thin, frail body. My pulse thrums in my ears and I desperately try to calm myself down.

I'm not successful.

I shouldn't be so anxious. But something changed and I don’t know what it is.

Naruto lets out a soft little moan and I watch the pained expression filter over his face.

Everything must hurt from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Considering everything that's happened over these past few months, it's only reasonable.

In his face is also a barely hidden fear that concerns me more than it probably should.

But he's not freaking out and running away like he did the last time. I won't let him.

I won't.

I didn't compromise everything just to be abandoned.

Still, I’m glad to be here, alone with Naruto in the quiet of morning long before visitors are allowed. It's probably the last time we'll be given this.

I don't know why I should care.

But my fingers clutch the gentle folds of his shirt, digging slightly into the lean flesh beneath.

He’s not going to run away.  We all have our demons to face.

Slowly, he tries to fight from his half-sleep; the kind just before waking that doesn't want to let go. I watch him carefully, hearing the rhythmic beeping of the monitor, monotonous so long in its constancy. It speeds up slightly as he begins to rouse. He inhales deeply and breathes in the clean, crisp, sterile air with a confused look on his face all wrinkled forehead and pursed lips.

I suppose he would be confused.

The last he likely remembers, we were in the woods with the scent of dirt and trees, and the sourness of decaying leaves. He would expect the feel of outside, of fresh air, with earth and rock beneath him and the sound of birds above.

This hospital room is anything but that. The mattress is soft and stinks of antiseptic and linen, an overly clean smell. He squirms a little and his pout grows deeper.

Or it could be he's surprised just to be alive.

Naruto's mouth suddenly pops open as if breaking the surface of water and takes in a large gulp of air. He seems to have some difficulty breathing so I ease his posture a little, curving his back, and wonder if I should move away. For some reason, I can't move.

Everything is different somehow.

The passage of time betrays me.

Ten days. Two hundred forty hours. Fourteen thousand four hundred minutes give or take.

Not that I'm counting.

With what seems to be a great effort he peels his eyes open, blinking to make them work, a thing he can't seem to manage properly. That’s to be expected; it's been so long since he opened them.

It's been so damn long . . .

His lungs are working a little better now; I can feel the gentle regular swell beneath my fingers. His skin begins to gradually warm to my touch.

He squints his eyes shut again.

With a groan, he raises his hand wearily and rubs his eyes, looking very much like a child waking from an afternoon nap. Blinking a few more times, I think he finally adjusts to the oppressive stark and plain whiteness of the room. He looks shocked and confused but then he snickers very strangely, a trifle disconcerting, a laugh that turns into a cough in a throat that echoes with phlegm.

I move with him again, my arm squeezing protectively over his chest so that he doesn't fall right off the bed. His coughing fit eventually subsides and he settles back into the mattress with a sigh. He looks just as tired as if he's been suffering from insomnia these past ten days rather than sleeping soundly. There are dark circles under his eyes and hollows to his cheeks, but for all that, he looks better.

He's awake.

I feel the whole of my insides twist into terrible, permanent knots. I don't want to speak, since there’s nothing much for me to say. I don't know how he'll react to Konoha or to me or to my being here or to anything at all.

Too many things have changed.

Too many haven't changed at all.

He shifts a little bit, trying to get more comfortable and I shift right along with him. His half-lidded gaze wanders around the room until it finally turns in my direction and stops short, his big blue eyes bugging out comically.

He’s definitely awake now.

Part of me expected this reaction, but part of me still can't help being annoyed. It shouldn't be such a shock that I'm here. Not after everything we've been through together. We are friends after all.

Aren't we?

No, I guess we're not. Not anymore.

He's still looking at me in that same way and I feel this frustrating ache I shouldn't, this thing I don't understand and so I push it away.

For a long moment he stares blankly; I can almost see the smoke rise from his head as his brain slowly goes into action. Then he scans me up and down curiously, making me feel self-conscious and very much like a bug under a microscope. He gets to the top of my head and stops, an amused look creeping into his face.

Then Naruto, that annoyingly loud-mouthed, troublesome ninja, has the audacity to try to laugh. But it quickly turns into hacking convulsions instead.

It serves him right, so I smirk even as I steady him.  Amidst his coughing, he shoots me a sidelong glance with a mix of suspicion and outright wonder.

Once again getting his fit under control, he lays back to the bed in a tired, boneless heap. And I lay back down right along with him. He looks down at me as I stare at him. I scowl a little, waiting for him to do something, say something so that I know that this is real and that he's the same old Naruto I used to know.

But that's impossible; he'll never be the same again.

Nor will I. Nor will any of us.

But I still want some indication that he's himself, and not Kyuubi or a messed-up conglomerate of the two like he was. I stare keenly, my hand still gripping tightly, cutting into the tender surface of his skin.

The situation is growing uncomfortable.

Maybe this was a mistake.

I hate my new uncertainty.

Everything has been turned over into an alternate reality we neither of us understands.

Then I notice his expression soften and instantly I feel more at ease, both knowing why and not knowing at all.

But I let it pass as I lay my head down on the edge of the fluffy white pillow, about even with Naruto's shoulder. I haven't taken my eyes off him for a second. He's the only thing I have left and I don't want to lose him.

Naruto stares back just as intently, the blue of his eyes making me a little dizzy. I swallow hard, my heartbeat quickening, beating in time with the beep-beep-beep of the monitor, the only sound in the room besides our quiet breathing. As we lay there side by side, I notice the warmness of Naruto as my hand rests over him in an oddly possessive manner. Heat seeps through the cotton of his shirt and into each of my fingers. My temperature seems to rise in response, giving me a somewhat uncomfortable, somewhat pleasantly flushed feeling.

I start to feel a little sleepy

Then I stop dead, shock and what I can only call mortification, teeming through my veins.

In horror, I realize that my thumb has been tracing little ovals over Naruto's skin, a petting sort of motion, sweet and way the hell too affectionate.

What is the matter with me!

Naruto's eyes widen, never straying from my face, reacting no doubt to the same thing I have. He raises his hand to cover mine so that now both of them are lying over the place where his heart should be.

I can feel the accelerated beating through my palm. Naruto pauses, his eyes searching mine, and then he clutches his fingers around my hand almost painfully.

I don't really mind. It tells me that he is real and that he is here and that he is alive.

Then he speaks.

"Sasuke?" Well, it’s more like a squeak with a gravel chaser. His voice is coarse and weak from having not been used and comes out only as a pathetic imitation of itself.

But even so, it is Naruto's voice, his manner, and there's no helping the lightness I feel, the little jolt that races through my nerves and makes my hands tremble.

Naruto, the Naruto, the Naruto I've been waiting for, is awake.

After ten grueling days, he's awake.

The edges of my lips curl up ever so slightly and hardly noticeable and yet Naruto, I think, has seen it. He gapes like an idiot, his mouth parted stupidly and his big blue eyes blinking. It would be funny, that look on his face, except it's at my expense so it's not.

I can't remember the last time I even tried to smile.

The beeping of the monitor spikes suddenly, sounding fiercely in the room as Naruto's heartbeat speeds up from nervousness or fear. Possibly both.

I wonder what’s going on in his head.

I can’t ask.

I can't breathe, can't move, can't even think.

Our eyes lock and I can see in his so many things: shock, fear, relief, sadness. I wonder if he's forgotten what's happened and if he no longer recognizes me.

Carefully, Naruto lifts his hand, apparently much more difficult than it sounds, and puts it to his cheek. There's a gentle pinch and a little muffled, surprised "ouch".

My eyebrows lift curiously.

He thinks he's dreaming.

I guess I can understand that.

He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly like a landed fish gasping for the last dregs of air.

I finally move. With aching, reluctant slowness I sit up, my hand dragging lazily over Naruto's chest, tickling sensitive skin and I hear a small, surprised hitch in his voice.

We’re about to go back to what we were. Just a traitor and a demon, both orphans and both runaways, yet so different and separated by a canyon so vast that we can never reach across it. Deep down, in the parts of myself I wanted to eradicate, I think I always hated that.

And now I don't want to go back to being an object of curiosity, never seen for myself but for what I represent. I don't want to lose this little space where we are just Sasuke and Naruto, where we are alone and together, needing nothing more. It's a little space that once lost can never be regained.

Reality is a far different entity.

I tuck my hand neatly into the sheets between Naruto's hip and mine and I can still feel the inviting heat of his skin on mine.

Soft morning light fills the room, the sun glinting off his hair and making it shine like gold like a halo. The brightness burns my eyes.

It hurts.

I look down and see the shadowy outline of my bones through the thin white shirt I'm wearing. I guess I've lost weight too.

I straighten my shoulders and raise my head to face the sun.  Naruto is watching me. I won’t appear weak. I am Uchiha Sasuke, proud and strong and confident and I will look the part. It is who I am. The worthless shadow of a boy I've shown the last few days is a useless memory that needs to be locked away.
I have no use for the child I once was.

Naruto has apparently been rendered into an unheard of state of speechlessness. He tries clearing his throat again but produces only a wet, phlegm-filled noise. The bed shifts under his weight as he pushes himself back towards the headboard. Sitting up, he stares at me curiously and for a moment I wonder if what he and I feel is actually the same thing.

After a brief moment, he reaches towards me; I can see the faint reflection in the glass of the window.

His fingers are shaking.

He looks both scared and confused, but the fear is stronger, that is clear enough.

Everything about him says he's conflicted and I can't deal with that right now.

So I stand suddenly, a breath before he touches me, avoiding what I'm not yet ready to face. Some irrational part of my brain tells me not to let him; that if he does, my precious little space will disappear.

I don't want that.

And I’m not yet ready to face that either.

But I stand up too fast. Lightheaded, I totter on my feet with one slipping forward, awkward and embarrassing, and I have to dart out my hand to grasp the windowsill for balance.

I'm still too weak.

Goddamn it, I hate this!

I grind my teeth in irritation. I hate being seen as weak.  Everyone can think whatever else they want, just not that. And Naruto . . .

There's a disappointed little grunt behind me followed by a gentle bang as the back of his head hits the headboard.

The light in the window sears my skin, a ruthless burn as I gaze outside.

My nerves tense.

It was a mistake opening the curtains yesterday. Through the glass I can clearly see the sad remnants of the burnt and battered section of the village; the broken and splintered wood, the charred and melted aftermath of a destructive blaze. But it's too late to do anything, pulling the curtains now would be too obvious. I grip my hands hard, letting the nails cut into the sill, and hope he doesn't see.

"Sasuke . . ." Naruto starts, but his voice catches in his throat.

There is something strange and when I turn my head, I see him fisting the white sheets in his hands and sucking his lower lip between his teeth.

There's nothing to say to the childishly sad and confused expression he wears.

He still looks like the little twelve-year-old kid I remember . . .

And nothing like him at all.

At any rate, I need to draw his attention away from the window.

I stumble to the other bed, clean and crisp and unused, and sit down. I lean over to pull on my shoes because I need to do something with those traitorous hands. Those hands that tried to kill him, that fought to protect him, that held him as he slept. The ones that now tremble annoyingly in front of me. He's still staring.

He keeps giving me that look. The one that says he doesn't know what to make of me and what I was doing.

It’s annoying.

Naruto coughs, but I don't look his way. "So . . . " he says, finding a sad mock version of his voice. "How have you been?"

There's a clatter as the shoe slips from my hands and falls to the floor. "Idiot," I whisper to myself. Leave it to him to ask such a stupid question.  But it’s a relief that he seems so much the same, even if he is twisting the sheets nervously in his hands.

Silence resounds between each pregnant pause of the beeping monitor.

"You dropped your shoe," Naruto states needlessly.

Neither of us says anything more.

It's a strange, strained moment as we sit there on either side of the room staring at the sandal, a sharp point of black in all this whiteness. Naruto raises his eyes to look at me and I move only just enough to reach over, pick up the shoe, and put it on.

That’s all there is to say.

Naruto stares with those wide blue eyes and blinks, a scowl coming over his still boyish face. "Wait . ." he stammers and tries to get out of bed. But instead of actually accomplishing this, he falls backward clumsily, catching his arm in the wires and tubes, accidentally pulling them free.

A horrible heart-wrenching screech rings through the room accompanied by a colorful string of curses.

It’s familiar and new and oddly scary and I just feel . . .

My fingers latch onto the dull metal frame of the bed.

My hands are shaking.

Naruto continues his swearing as he struggles with the wires and tubes.

He's angry. He's confused. He's nervous.

Which only makes me feel the same.

Which is supremely annoying.

The sun, bright and round and clear, hits the blue of the sky and a warm golden red light reflects off the horrid white of the room.

Naruto's movement finally stops with a gentle clatter, making the whine of the monitor sound that much louder.

"It's a nice morning." He speaks unexpectedly, his voice cracking quiet.

I take a deep breath and shake my head. Idiot indeed. "Hn."

Outside the room comes the pounding of feet, much like the pounding of my heart, and the sense of chakra coming closer in panic. The door flies open, banging angrily on the other side of the wall. Tsunade, disheveled and panting and a little worse for wear, bursts into the room. She looks directly at me.

"Is he . . ?" She starts, unable to finish, apparently too flustered to sense the answer for herself.

I smirk and reply flatly, using a vague gesture indicating my roommate. "The idiot's awake."

The Hokage lets out the breath she'd been holding, her hand to her ample chest and her eyes closed in relief.

"Hey!" A certain annoying ninja yells into the siren-filled room. I turn to him, sneer still in place, and am greeted with a pleasantly familiar sight: a deep drawn pout and arms crossed over his chest in a huff. That's right. Loud-mouthed, surprising, childish, strong, loyal, never-give-up Naruto is back.

My Naruto.

No, not mine.

In a short moment pulled straight from our past, amidst the old jibes and the familiar roles we both forget we are not alone.

I hold my irritated smirk, but I'm not angry.

I'm not angry at all.

We’re reminded quite suddenly of the other person in the room when said person, in the form of the current Hokage, storms up and smacks Naruto smartly on the back of the head.

"You stupid brat!" She shouts, quickly turning off the machine and plunging us into a deep silence. "Don't you ever do something so idiotic again!" It's unclear whether she's referring to the incident with the heart monitor or to something else entirely. But one thing is obvious. She’s vastly relieved.

"OW!" Naruto yells, putting a hand to his head. The flicker of fear that passed over his face is quickly covered with a carefully placed pout.

I knew it.

I knew this would happen.

"That hurt, you old hag!"

The next thing any of us knows, Naruto is being suffocated by the chest of Tsunade, a thing that is a force to be reckoned with.

There's a smattering of muffled protests as Naruto flails in Tsunade's tremendous hug. I pity him, just a little bit, as I watch from the sidelines. But there are other feelings there too: amusement, vindication, and a little stab that feels like jealousy.

I don't get the chance to consider this, not that I want to, because Naruto is finally free and gasping for some much needed air. And using the precious commodity to curse under his breath.

"Well," the Hokage says rather matter-of-factly, ignoring him. "I think it's time you were properly examined."

That's when she turns to me, an unspoken and undeniable "get out" written all over her face. I glare back defiantly. I’m not very good at following orders.

We’re staring at each other, neither of us backing down and neither winning, when Naruto interrupts our voiceless battle.

"Sasuke . . ."

It's a soft half-whining, half-wistful plea.

I look right into his eyes and something twists and flips and breaks inside me.

He wants me to stay.

But I won’t be here much longer.  Perhaps it’s best he learn that now.

So I deepen my sneer and tease him instead. "What, do you need me to hold your hand?"

For an instant his eyes, so big, so blue, widen in surprise and in something else I can't quite place. But then he's back to himself, scowling testily and trying to act tough. "Of course not! Who'd ever want to hold your hand, teme?"

He narrows his eyes at me and I glare back as Tsunade ignores us both, settling herself beside her patient and figuratively "rolling up her sleeves".

"Don't go too far, Sasuke," Tsunade warns, not bothering to look at me. "You're next."

Great. I'm so looking forward it.

I leave them alone; it's better that they don't see I care.

I don't know any other way to be.

And so I turn to go, pausing only briefly with my hand on the door frame to look back at Naruto as he sits angrily on the bed, that signature pout still on his face.

But beneath the hastily plastered frown, I can see him smiling.

And I wonder: can he see the carefully hidden smile under mine?

-----

I stand against the bare wall as Tsunade checks that Naruto is in proper working order.  There are a million questions rolling in my head and it’s better I just stay where I am.

Two nurses crest the hall corner and speed towards me, alerted no doubt by the ear-splitting siren that the idiot set off when he tripped. Of course it's been turned off now and replaced by a deafening quiet. They’re a little late.

I hate how he can scare me.

I grip my fists at my sides, itching to break the door down and pummel him for making me go through this, for making me look so damned pitiful. I don't care if it seems unfair, because it really is his fault.

The nurses, I notice a bit belatedly, have stopped running and simply walk briskly. Their eyes are trained on me as I stand outside the door. They both glance in my direction, one curling her lip in disdain, the other trying to give me a smile that looks more sick than friendly. A smile that is stopped abruptly by way of an elbow to the ribs by her fellow nurse. They reach me and the "nicer" one gives me a slight nod before opening the door so the two of them may enter. They are in no hurry now, not since they saw me waiting impatiently against the wall. I don't know whether to take this as insult or compliment that they're able to deduce the degree of Naruto's condition simply by assessing my demeanor. But I guess they've learned by now that if he were in any real trouble, nothing could have dragged me away.

Nothing.

I think the insanity of the past week and a half has set everyone on edge. No one is used to me, much less my appearance.  In me they now see him, ashen and serpentine, and there's no way to erase the visible connection from their minds.

But that's fine. Intimidation is good. I'd rather be feared than pitied. But that one nurse has that annoyingly sympathetic look in her eye, that "poor boy" gaze and so I glare at her, finding that I actually like the one who outright hates me better.

Hate is familiar, easier to take.

I wonder what they think of Naruto.

As they go inside, I sneak a peek and see him sitting on the bed, a boyish pout in place, arms petulantly crossed over his chest, and arguing as always with Tsunade. He likes to give everyone a hard time, I guess. Perhaps I’m not so special.

The woman reaches over to pry his hands away from his chest, an angry glower on her face, and the silliest, pointless, most idiotic thing happens. They have a slapping match like a pair of unruly children fighting over ownership of the same useless toy. Naruto begins snapping off some long string of incoherent nonsense while Tsunade shoots back with typical motherly things such as: "You need to get checked out" and "Don't give me a hard time, brat". Then, with one final stupid slap, Naruto pushes her away, slams his hands to the mattress and shouts for all the hospital to hear, "I'M FINE!"

He says this while covered in bandages and bruises, with dark circles under his eyes and an all-over gray complexion.

Fine, indeed.

Tsunade puts her hands to her temple in what I assume is an attempt to massage away a Naruto-induced headache. I'm quite familiar with those myself.

Somehow Naruto catches sight of me through the tiny crack of the open door. Our gazes lock. He still has that conflict, that confusion. All the things I didn't want to see couldn't be clearer. They burn in my retinas.

After a short moment, he screws his face into this perturbed little scowl and narrows his eyes as if analyzing me. Then he leans into Tsunade and pretends to whisper, "He looks like shit."

The nerves rise up on the back of my neck. How dare he, the stupid jerk! He's one to talk! Apparently he hasn't looked in a mirror yet. I really want to punch him, kick him, and break his jaw. He's got a lot of nerve, he does . . .

"I know." Tsunade answers and I've decided I've had enough. I could just move my foot and let the door shut of its own accord. But I'm seriously pissed off so I grab it with my hand and yank it violently closed, making the slam reverberate throughout the hallway. Several people stop to stare, but I shoot them a withering glare and they quickly go back to what they were doing.

I should just leave for that, I don't have to stand here and be talked about behind my back in front of my face. Naruto's got a hell of a lot of nerve bringing up my condition when he's been in a coma the last ten days. He's the one who almost died.

The one who almost left me.

My stomach drops below my feet, making me dizzy and there's a pinching pain behind my eyes.

He's just lucky that I . . .

So I can't leave. I tell my feet to move, but they refuse to listen.

He still needs me.

That's what I tell myself.

I blink my eyes a few times and make them see clearly again. Then, crossing my arms, I lean back against the wall conspicuous and stupid, but I don't much care.

I’ll just wait here for them to finish, even if it takes forever.

Unfortunately, while I'm doing this, that well-known plague of unwanted ninja come traipsing by. News travels fast in Konoha, especially when it concerns Naruto. Some run, some walk, some come alone, some in groups and soon it's everyone, the rookie nine and Gai's team. All except for one exception, that is.

So he does need me.

He has to. Otherwise, what am I doing here?

The atmosphere is heavy and exceptionally awkward, as the needless shinobi are fidgety and nervous and out-of sorts like a pack of bloodhounds that have lost the scent. I just stare with my blank expression at the group of extras hoping against hope that they'll just give up and go home. Or just disappear into smoke. That would work too. Or be captured by ANBU and be "accidentally" throw into jail. That would be even better. It's what they want to do with me.

But of course, to my immense chagrin, this doesn't happen.

Most of them are glaring back, though some don't even bother. Shikamaru is pointedly looking in the other direction, as is Lee. The only difference is that Shikamaru looks bored and annoyed while Lee seems more uncomfortable than anything else. Well, that's fine. It's not as if I care what they think.

I want to go back inside, but I won’t.  I have to begrudgingly admit that I trust Tsunade, with Naruto anyway. So I'll wait, ignore the barrage of stares and sneers and unflattering thoughts. It's not all that hard. I don't care about them.

It's only for Naruto's sake that I tolerate them to begin with.

Then again, now that he's awake things will start to change quickly.

I turn back to the group to discover Neji glaring at me, trying to stare me down, which is really just sad. Even with hunger and fatigue I won't lose to him, not even in something as pointless as this. I also notice Kiba as he hides in a corner, nearly foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog with his little beady eyes glaring from the shadows. He's not worth my time so I dismiss him. I don't notice anyone else.

Well, that's not quite true.

There is something very strange.

Hinata, that shy, quiet, inscrutable girl, is cowering behind Neji, her hands holding tightly to his arm. It's an interesting turn of events based on what last I knew. But I don’t really care.  No, what peaks my interest is that she is the only one staring straight at me with anything other than naked hatred. She doesn't even have that exasperating pity I keep being subjected to. She just stares intently, curious more than anything but not unkind, and I feel like she's using the Byakuugan on me, only I know that she's not. She blushes a little bit as she always does, ducks behind her cousin and smiles shyly.

That's bizarre. What the hell was that about?

I blink in confusion.

Neji curls his lip.

Kiba snorts.

Hinata hides completely behind her cousin.

Tsunade opens the door.

Any thought I might have spared to this ragtag group in front of me vanishes, replaced by the more important task at hand. I turn to Tsunade and open my mouth.

"How is he?" Kiba blurts out.

I spin my head to glare at him. He did that on purpose just to irritate me. I make a mental note to beat the shit out of that dog-faced, drooling, flea-ridden interloper later. He flashes his canines at me in mocking fashion.

I narrow my eyes and deepen my scowl.

Kiba sticks out his tongue.

Very mature.

"He’s doing well. All his vital signs are strong," Tsunade says, breaking through the childishness. She heaves a sigh. I finally turn my attention back to her only to realize that though she's been answering Kiba's question, she’s looking straight at me. I smirk. That’s right.  I’m the important one here.

Naruto and I, well, we’re different.

It's not the same for them.

I stare right into Tsunade's eyes, betraying nothing and wait for her to continue. "But he's still been through a lot. And he's weak. It will take some time before he's at one hundred percent again. But it's promising. With some time and care he'll be back to his old trouble-making, loud-mouthed self."

It’s a relief.

But it’s also not.

Things can no longer remain in stasis.

Tension eases out of the air and the hallway doesn't seem quite as small as it did a moment ago. Although, because I’m here, there’s still a thrum of anxiety in the air.

"Can we see him?" Neji this time, very formal. Everyone's ears seem to perk up, interested in the answer.

I don't like it. They just get in the way. I look over and see that for some weird reason, Neji is looking at me. Then I see they're all looking at me as if I'm some ticking time bomb ready to explode at any second. I glare right back.

//Kill them//, a little voice in my head says. //Kill them all.//

No, I don't think so.

Not that I'd exactly be sorry for hurting them. But a killing spree might cause a problem.

Still, holding back is difficult.

They are in the way.

"Yes, but only briefly. He's still recuperating and I don't want to put any more stress on him than necessary." Tsunade is acting very “professional” about the whole thing.

Then, as if a silent consensus has been made, Neji opens the door and the whole troupe brushes by me, heading like a mass infection into the room. I simply stand and wait for it to be over. For now, I'll allow it. I’m not in a position to stop it yet. But if I were better, I'd kick them all out with enough force to make things clear.

Unnecessary little bugs.

Some of them barely even know Naruto and now they go waltzing in as if they're old buddies. I hate them.

I don't want them here.

I don't want them here.

I know I won't like what I'm about to see.

There's a laugh that emanates from the room, loud and clear and very recognizable, which should make me happy but instead pierces my heart with the force of a hurled kunai. The world in front of me has gone blurry and what’s that supposed to mean?

I wipe a hand over my eyes, and they become clear again.

When I look up, I see Tsunade still standing there and staring at me with that same pitying, confused look. I hate being stared at it.  I 'm so sick of these looks, of everyone watching me, be it with pity or awe or hate, it doesn't matter. I just want it to stop.

Tsunade releases a disgusted huff is released and then turns and walks away. Her steps echo off the walls and they get both quieter and duller as she makes her way down the hall.

Instead I look into the overly crowded room where they've all crammed themselves in; a mass of bodies filling the formally empty space. Kiba is sitting in an extra chair at Naruto's bedside, by rights my place, and talking animatedly about some inanity that earns him a cuff on the back of the head by some undistinguished assailant. The other chair, the old uncomfortable familiar chair, my chair, has been left blatantly vacant. They're avoiding it as if I have some communicable disease they'll acquire were they to share some common space with me.

I hate them.

Naruto laughs. My stomach twists into knots and I feel like I may need to throw up, although I doubt there's anything left to empty.

He looks so happy surrounded by his friends, by all the people he cares about.

But there's nervousness to his eyes too. Part of him is still afraid. I wonder if they even see it.

To me his anxiety is pervasive, overshadowing everything else.

His eyes dart around a little excitedly and his hands shake just slightly though they are mostly hidden by the bed sheets. No one seems to notice and proceed to prattle on. Then Naruto looks to the doorway and I catch his eye with a piercing intensity that cuts straight through me. I feel as though my emotions are tied to his, my bad mood being spurred on by his apprehension.

But then his hands stop trembling, his eyes grow calm and a soft smile slowly spreads across his face.

The sunlight that frames him, the white of the sheets that cover him, the gold of his hair and that look on his face; it all makes him look so very innocent.

Nothing like a demon at all.

How perfectly inane.

His eyes stay on me as he picks up the one-sided conversation Kiba was apparently having. After a moment, he turns back to the dog-faced boy and smiles wider, the whiteness of his teeth standing out in stark relief. Their chatter continues on, but I'm not part of it. I'm on the outside like always. And Naruto looks perfectly content and at peace when he's with them while I stand in the doorway.

//He doesn't need you.//

He seems to have forgotten I'm even here.

Maybe I'm the one who's unnecessary.

But it should be fine that way, shouldn't it.

I shouldn't need him; I shouldn't need anyone.

Why do I need him so damned much?

It doesn’t hurt.

I’m absolutely fine.

I feel a soft warmness on my arm and I look over to see that Sakura has joined me. She gazes up with concern brimming in her green eyes. It's irritating, but I don't have time to think about it.  Not when I hear the question I've been dreading.

Naruto's soft, cracked voice cuts through my thoughts. "Where's Ino?"

There is an awkward moment of silence.

I grit my teeth until my jaw hurts.

Stupid idiot, why did you ask? That's your problem, always worrying, always shouldering guilt that isn't even yours to bear.

There's some general mumbling and then Shikamaru's lazy voice distinguishes itself from the rest. "She couldn't come. There's a lot she's got to do now." His normally bored voice sounds a little strained. "She wanted to be here . . . " he trails off with a noncommittal grunt. He's lying; it couldn't be any more obvious. He should have just kept his damn mouth shut, changed the subject. Hell, anything would have better than such a pathetic, blatant lie.

"Oh." It’s all Naruto says.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I don't know how to make myself feel better, much less someone else. There hasn't been a "someone else" to consider, not since Itachi. My brain, my voice, my everything has deserted me, leaving behind nothing but an empty husk which only takes up space. There's a burning behind my eyes, an oppressive heaviness in my lungs.

There's another pause, then someone clears his throat.

"So, so, hey Naruto. Did you hear what Konohamaru did they other day on one of his missions? The D-ranked kind, you remember those? Well, anyway. . . " Kiba goes on to relate some stupid story and for once I'm glad for his ability to prattle on for hours on end without reason.

Naruto looks happier.

He looks happy with all these people, these . . . friends.

And he's not looking at me.

My presence makes no difference one way or the other.

He looks so happy.

That can't be right.

//He doesn't need you.//

My chest feels tight and painful, like someone has thrust their hand inside and squeezed my heart, spurting the blood into my lungs so I can't breathe.

The air here is too heavy. I need new air.

I turn around and leave. Sakura's eyes are on me, confused and anxious and angry, and I even hear the soft, uncertain sound of her voice as she chokes on my name. But that is all. No one else is looking; no one else cares.

Naruto doesn't seem to notice.

I have to get out of here.

Chapter Text

The hall is empty with its crowds of people and stacks of machinery. A cold wind cuts through the clamoring silence and straight to my bones.. These annoying hospital clothes do nothing to keep out the chill. I wrap my arms around my waist and turn to walk away.

I don't like it out here.

I can still hear the laughter coming from room 307.

//See how happy he is without you?//

I need to get outside.

I feel like running straight through the front gates, but I won't give those bastards, the ANBU who've been following me, the satisfaction. I know they're watching. They’re the only ones who do.

I wonder if they know I’m watching them.

The warm air outside is a welcome relief, heating my bones and erasing my mind. There are not as many eyes out here to judge or pry, no group of self-aggrandizing jerks to throw their expectations at me.

//You're such a disappointment.//

I scoff to myself.

There's a gentle breeze rustling the grass, waving it in hypnotic rhythm. The sun has taken its place in the sky, not so bright and judgmental anymore. The grounds of the hospital are clipped clean, filled with trees and bushes and plenty of shade and I spot a group of kids in a corner laughing and playing in their sad little designated gowns. They must be from the pediatric ward.

But I'll bet none of their brothers, their idols, slaughtered their families, torturing them with memories every moment of their lives.

I clench my fists at my sides. I don't want to think about it. It's over now. My traitorous, murderous brother has been dealt his punishment as I decided: death.

So now there is nothing.

No vindication, no triumph, no home, no new path to walk down. Just a massive empty desert stretching out before me with no road signs to lead me in the right direction. I'm wandering aimlessly.

With nothing.

There's a small stone bench cradled in the eaves of a tree, abandoned and forgotten, and I go to sit in it. I disappear among the shadows, merely a darker shade of the whole.

My head lifts to face the hospital wall. There. There it is. His room that was our room.

It doesn't matter now I suppose.

//You saw how happy they made him.//

I don't like the way they monopolize his time like they understand a damn thing. Because they don't.

None of them understand.

I hate them.

And for a fleeting moment, I hate him.

Something comes flying toward me and I reach up to snatch it in my hand. It's second nature by now and I'm glad that at least not all of my senses have been dulled. I spread my fingers and see a ball, small and red and shiny, almost the color of blood in the shade.

"Hey! Hey! Mister! Over here!" A high squeaky voice breaks through the air and one of the kids is frantically waving his hands, asking for the toy back. I look at him and then at the ball, lost in some unformed thought. Carefully, I toss the toy and he catches it easily, his face breaking into a grin as bright as the sun. There’s a sharpness in the center of my chest. He doesn't know yet, none of them do. They don't fear or hate me.

//But soon they will.//

I can see it coming.

He reminds me of Naruto.

Birds chirp merrily in the trees, their little songs filling the air. Even here, I'm an outsider. There’s nowhere left to go.

And he'll be all right.

With all the people who care about him, he'll be all right.

My fingers twist painfully into a loose thread of my shirt, the tips turning blue from the loss of blood. They're bony and pale, like a dead man's, a useless pile of bone and skin. What horrible hands.

It won't take long for him to forget me.

He’s always been the future and I the past.

I have no right to complain.

I hate him, I really do. He makes me this way. As much as it hurts, as much as it tears me up, sometimes I think maybe it would have been better if I had killed him.

There’d be nothing to feel then.

He spends way too much of his time in my mind and memory, distracting me from all else. He's the reason why, after all, that Itachi's dead.

But I don't want to think about it. It doesn't make me feel better.

I lean back into the bench and tilt my head up. The sunshine streams through the cracks between the leaves, tiny pinpoints of light that hit my eye every now and then. I lower my eyelids. I just want to go back to sleep, to the place that doesn’t exist. With a sick, guilty, horrible feeling, a small part of me is unhappy he's awake.

Now everything will change.

//You're selfish.//

I already know this.

There's a soft crunching of grass growing closer, a nonverbal announcement of her approach. It's an obvious and useless gesture, but in its way I appreciate it. Though I would have recognized her chakra anyway. I'm not so bad off that I wouldn't notice that.

The noise stops right in front of me and I can feel the nervous tension leaking off her and filling the space between us. I wonder if the kids can feel it too. Are they too young? Are they even ninja children?

Does it matter?

There are some things that even a ninja cannot fight.

Sakura settles down beside me, but there is no shift in the stone, set as it is for eternity or until another war breaks out and tests the strength of Konoha again. Sakura is twitchy and anxious, as she's been a lot lately. She doesn't know how to deal with me anymore. She tries, but she's unsure. I know that.

I don't open my eyes or really acknowledge her presence in any way, but she knows I've sensed her. She burns a hole in the side of my head with her stare, but I’ve no driving force to speak with her. There's a light pressure on my leg. With a huge sigh, I look down at her hand resting on my knee. I stare at it.

It's awkward.

I should pull away, but I don't.

I'm so tired . . .

Her big green eyes search and question and I just wish she'd stop. There are no answers.

"Sasuke," she says, leaving off the affectation we've long grown past. "Look at me."

She lets out a breath of air filled with irritation. Then her hand comes up to take my chin and I turn to face her, because it doesn’t matter either way. I shift my eyes away, but I can still see her in the widened vision of my eyes. Her lips are a tight, thin line.

"You really are too stubborn." She pinches the skin at my jaw and hurts just a little. "You should be up there."

I look away.  The problem is I don't belong there, in all that happiness. I 'm not a happy person.

She can't seem to understand that.

"Don't ignore me!" Sakura shakes her head, her short pink hair bouncing in the breeze. "After everything that’s happened lately and now you’re just going to walk away?”

There’s nothing to walk away from.

“Don't you remember yesterday and how I risked my career and my life just to get you to him? And now he’s awake and you’re here? You are so frustrating!" She sighs wearily. "I just don't get you."

I smirk to myself and finally look at her.  Her face is all screwed up into deep concentration. How can she possibly understand, when she belongs here?  So I rise, slowly easing myself from the bench and her hand slides off my knee, which surprisingly enough I'd forgotten about. Standing makes me even more tired. Looking around the lawn, I see the kids have already gone. Funny that I didn't notice.  My hand rises to my neck without my thinking it. The mark has faded but it's still there. I can feel the small throb, the constant pulse it has and it hurts a bit. I know I'll always carry it with me.

After what happened, even in death Orochimaru will always be with me.

And I can't even hide it.

"It's because he's awake, isn't it?" Sakura's voice startles me from my thoughts and I quickly drop my hand. It's the rest that really shakes them. I'm showing too much of him.

But Sakura's statement makes me lightheaded, dizzy and ready to fall. "That's it, isn't it? When he was asleep, it was OK to show him, but now that he's awake you can't?"

That's close. Not exactly right, a little simplistic, but close.

My heartbeat quickens, the tightness around my chest so strong I think it might squeeze the life right out of me. I can't let this happen. They're not supposed to see me; they're not supposed to know. Sometimes Sakura is too perceptive for her own good.  I push her away.

I don't want anyone's help.

I don't need anyone.

I don't.

We're standing there alone in the yard, the warm spring air separating us, eerily quiet but for the chirping of the birds and the gentle wind that passes right through me. "It's like you're ashamed to show us that you're human." She says. "You know, he already misses you. He asked where you were as soon as you disappeared. And Naruto’s really the only one that matters, isn’t he?”  She takes hold of my arm again and I can hear the small broken twist to her voice. "It's always been Naruto."

It has and it hasn’t.

I should be there. I want to be there. But something inside stops me, some cold, harsh sharpness that reminds me who I am.

Sakura shakes me a bit, waking me up or getting my attention, I'm not sure which. Without looking, I can see her smile, soft and sad and placating. "Your chair's still empty. So let's go back upstairs."

I squeeze my eyes shut.

//Didn't you see? He doesn't need you.//

Shut up.

Just shut up.

Everything goes still and quiet for a moment. Sakura raises her hand and gently brushes a loose strand of hair from my face. "He needs you. Not them, not me. You. Don’t you get that?"

I look at her blankly and see in her green eyes the same thing I see everywhere. I'm sick of it.

But she's right, too. I muster my strength and turn to go back inside, a little unsteady on my feet. Sakura sidles up beside me, lending her quiet support, but not making contact.

It's been only a short time, less than an hour that I've been out here and with frightening clarity I realize that there is already an emptiness.  I never needed anyone before.

I didn't.

But now . . .

Sakura takes each step slowly, her glances turning to me at sporadic intervals, checking to make sure I'm still all right. I'm not made of glass, I swear I'm not, and all this fussing is just getting on my nerves. I scowl a warning at her and she stops. Then we arrive at the room and I can sense another presence inside.  Iruka.

I prop myself against the wall beside the door like a piece of luggage. Sakura regards me quizzically.

"It's alright." I say. "I can wait." That's right. I can wait.  It’s better to put off the inevitable.

Sakura quirks an eyebrow at me, that puzzled look once again dancing in her eyes. I know. I’m not myself.  It’s confusing.

She rubs her hand on my arm comfortingly before backing away to lean on the opposite wall. I wish she'd just leave. But she doesn't. No, instead she crosses her arms, crosses her ankles and stares, a little wrinkle to her forehead, trying to figure something out. Several nurses and a patient in a wheelchair pass by between us, but I barely notice. They are like white noise, barely perceptible in their white uniforms in the vast expanse of white hallway.

Then there is the click-click-clack of feet as another nurse approaches, this one stopping at Naruto's door and without knocking pushes inside. He looks good, or at least not any worse.  I can’t say the same for Iruka, but that’s not my problem.

I let my body relax, soothed somewhat just by seeing him.

The nurse busies herself about the room, writing things down and checking Naruto's statistics like ticking items off on a grocery list. She puts her fingers to his wrist and looks at her watch, completely ignoring the fact that he is an actual person. He turns up to her and smiles again, the sunlight glinting off his light hair.

He looks better.

Then he turns back to Iruka, skimming right over where I'm standing so I lean out of his line of vision.

It's stupid, it really is. Everything about me seems wrong, awkward, like my brain is signaling me to turn left and I blink instead. I wonder if it's part of the aftereffects, if some of myself was pulled out along with all the rest.

Besides, Naruto's a ninja, and even in his weakened state he probably already knew I was here.

This is just stupid.

I chance a peek around the door again and see him lean into Iruka, this tiny smile on his face and he whispers something I don't quite make out. Iruka turns his head halfway in my direction and again, like some idiot, I hide. I pound the back of my head against the wall, looking up to the garish florescence of the ceiling and it glares back.

The nurse comes back out, softly closes the door behind her and adds one last thing to her clipboard before clicking her pen shut and tucking it into her pocket.

With a sigh, she looks up and I think I might have been mumbling out loud because she gives me the funniest look, clucks her tongue motherly and walks off.

My face screws up, irritated.

Sakura lets out a little giggle.

Now I'm more irritated.

She’s been standing there staring at me with her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her laughter. I scowl at her and she lets her hands fall, raising her eyebrows and giving me an infuriating little smile that's more like a smirk.

I frown. I sneer at her and then decide I don't care, instead inclining my head towards the door and perking my ears, trying to catch some of the conversation. I don't care if I shouldn't. I don't care if it's immature. I want to know what's going on. Sakura stifles another laugh, but I can hear it clearly even with all the tapping of shoes and P.A. announcements. Fine. She can think whatever she likes.  It doesn’t matter to me.

I'm busy.

" . . . was here everyday." Iruka says.

"Really?" Naruto's voice is oddly soft and I have to struggle to hear it.

"Yes, Naruto!" Iruka lets out a hearty laugh. "I had to sneak back in when he was sleeping . You know, Sasuke can be a little, uh, intimidating, even for me." I smirk at that. "But you know . . . " I put my hand to the doorframe and lean in to hear better. "That's not the only reason I came here when he was asleep. How should I put this? It was more like when he was awake, watching over you, I felt like an intruder." I never said that. I let him stay, didn't I? I even . . .appreciated it. No one ever understands anything! My hand clenches the doorframe. "Though even when you both were asleep, it still seemed that way."

"So Sasuke was here every day . . ." There's an unspoken question mark at the end of it.

"Well." Iruka is louder and clearer, much easier to understand. "He did say something about 'returning a favor'."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess that's right." Naruto's voice is even lower and a little mumbled and almost disappointed.

I stop listening.

Then Sakura pushes off the wall and crosses to the hallway, stopping only when she’s practically on top of me.  Apparently she’s never heard of personal space. Tilting her head, she puts on a smile that looks like she knows something and finds it both funny and sad at the same time.

"It meant a lot to him," she starts awkwardly, "that you were there."

I keep my expression impassive, not allowing any flicker of emotion to show through.

"He looked like a cornered rabbit after you left him there, with everyone bombarding him with questions. He kept looking to the door. He was nervous and worried and you should have been there. Especially after . . ." she pauses now as if for dramatic effect, pouting just slightly.

My heart is pounding against my ribcage, but I don't let anything betray my stoic mask.

Sakura sighs again. "Especially after everything you did to stay with him."

I don't think that's what she was going to say.

Sakura puts her hands to her hips and leans back on her heel, assessing me up and down. I don’t twitch a muscle. She shakes her head. "You are such an idiot. And a coward."

My nails dig painful and sharp into my palms. She knows nothing.

What difference does it make? I'm not explaining myself.

With a glare and a huff, Sakura reaches out and grabs me by an arm and I immediately try to wrench free.

"What do you want?" I snap. "Let go."

But she just scowls before lifting her head and turning away haughtily. She knocks on the door but there's no answer. Only a moment passes, but before she can knock again, the door swings wide and Iruka appears, looking awfully nervous, smile and all. The next thing I know, we three are standing stupidly in the hall, silent in the exchange of meaningful glances.

This is ridiculous.

I yank my arm free and glower at Sakura, who stares dumbly for a brief moment before once more smiling that infuriatingly enigmatic smile.

"Well," my former teacher pipes up suddenly. The grin on his face looks a little forced. He turns to Sakura and then to me. "I guess it's time you went back in. Naruto's waiting."

I blink at him, feeling a rush of heat fly up my neck and with an effort push it back down.  There’s no need for that.

"I have to get back to school. The new batch of students will be taking their exams soon and they're just as troublesome as you guys were. I think it's best that we try to get everything back to normal as quickly as possible." It's a subtle, cruel reminder that things are anything but normal, intentional or not. Iruka turns and gives a last nod to Naruto, saying something, but I don't listen.

The man politely pushes his way between Sakura and I and heads down the hall.

Sakura pauses. Then without warning she lunges forward and gives me a quick hug. I want to push her off, but it happens so fast that I don't get the chance. I think she's grabbing the last opportunity for it. Now that Naruto's awake, everything will be different.

For all of us.

In the next instant, she spins around and runs down the hall, soon out of sight.

I’m now in the hall alone.

The door has been propped open and I can feel the weight of the gaze coming from inside. I remain in the hallway, half-dazed.

A couple of nurses walk by, chatting to each other, both carrying clipboards at their sides. A small family follows, mother and two boys, the little one determinedly carrying a huge basket of flowers he can barely see over. As they pass, I hear the mother tell them that their father is recuperating so they can't stay for long. The little one whines a bit and the older boy smiles softly.

Must be one of the casualties.

My gaze locks on them as they pass and the woman, who had just been smiling happily catches my look and instantly changes, a frown marring her delicate features. She narrows her eyes for the briefest of moments and putting a hand to each boy's back, hurries them away. I can't help but watch, like the way you're drawn to a train wreck and can't look away.

Only I know I'm on the other side looking out.

I'm the oddity whom everyone will be watching. The traitor, the monster, the huge disappointment.

I'm the train wreck.

I have no idea where to go from here, how to pick up the wheels and glass and iron of my former self and put it back together. Because no matter how carefully you glue the pieces, they never fit quite right again.

I can't find the energy to think about that now.

I can feel Naruto's eyes intent on me.

It was easier when he was asleep. I didn't have to face those eyes.

But it's time; I know that. So I swallow hard, take a deep breath, clench my jaw and raise my head.

Slowly, my eyes open, bracing myself.

But all I see is Naruto looking right at me, the light dancing in his big blue eyes and a big fox grin on his face. He's still in his bed, the covers pulled up over his lap, and his hands nestled gently within the sheets. He doesn't look angry or disappointed or anything I could have expected.

How long has he been watching me like that?

Perhaps from before I even knew.

His mouth drops open to say something, but no sound comes out. His expression shifts then he closes his mouth, smiles very softly and turns to look out the window to the sunlight streaming in. It's afternoon now and a little storm of dust can be seen floating in the ray of light hitting the cold tile floor. It swirls and dances in the static air, daring something, anything, to make it touch ground. Naruto clutches the sheets in his hands.

I won’t leave him this time, not until I have to.

And once I’ve made up my mind, there’s no defying it.

He will be my path for however short that may be.

Then he turns back around, his smile bigger and more sincere, but still gentle in its way.

This time when he opens his mouth, he does speak.

"I'm home."

I almost fall over. All this time and that's what he decides to say?

"Tch!" I walk into the room and close the door behind me. What an idiot. I look toward the other bed, the perfectly made, untouched one that was mine. I've only been up for a couple hours, but I feel as tired as if I've just been on a ten-day mission with no sleep or food. But in a manner of speaking, maybe I have. It hits me like a ton of bricks.

"That's what I'm supposed to say, dobe." I state the jibe only half-heartedly.

I can't change who I am.

Heading to the bed, I kick off my shoes and let them roll into a corner. I sit down on the edge, my mind already half asleep. But then I hear it, a whisper in the air that hits straight to my heart.

"Is it?"

I stop in the middle of what I was doing; my hand holding the sheet, ready to pull it back. I don't look at him. I can't. I don't belong anywhere anymore, if I ever did. It's just a waiting game now, to see what I should do.

He'll be the one to decide and he doesn't even know it.

I hear rustling behind me followed by the quiet creak of the mattress. The sun is still shining, but Naruto has apparently chosen to go back to sleep as well, a strange thing for him to do seeing as he slept ten days already. It seems more like he should be wide awake for the next ten to make up for it. But I guess life doesn't often work the way we think it should.

The sheets on my bed are stretched taut, perfect and clean after having never been used. I pull the sheets far enough back so I can get comfortable, wrapping them tight around me. The bed is small, with a collection of fluffy blankets, plenty enough for one, but it feels big, cold, and empty. Something is missing.

I know what is.

But that doesn’t mean I accept it.

The window on my side is darker; facing west and the sun hasn't yet reached it. The city looks clean and secure and normal with people hurrying about as if nothing has ever been wrong. Like the view from the other side is a trick of light and shadow and nothing more.

I curl the sheets around me even more, but it does nothing to keep out the chill. I shouldn't have opened that window.

I hear nothing from the other side of the room.

Part of me worries, but things are different now. I clench a corner of the blanket between my fingers.

The room is deathly quiet, uncomfortable, and I realize for the first time that that damned interminable beep-beep-beep is back. It sends a chill down my spine. But it's stronger now, steady, or so I choose to think.

The sound is almost soothing when I think of it like that.

I haven't yet answered him.

I take in a breath of air and exhale slowly, deliberately.

"Welcome back," I utter to no one in particular.

I hear a small creak of the bed, a soft rustle of fabric, but I don't actually think he's heard me.

He's probably asleep.

And soon I'll join him. Join him, but alone.

Chapter Text

\+\Red hands reach out for me, dripping with their blood-soaked crime, as deep crimson eyes stare from the darkness.

'I know this,' I think to myself.

"Well, of course you do, Sasuke-kun."

I whip my head around to see those familiar yellow slit eyes leering back at me, that possessive, lusting, knowing look. The eyes, the look that I can never escape. His disturbingly long tongue flicks out and grazes my cheek before disappearing back into his mouth. Just like a snake scenting the air.

I can still feel the spot he touched as it cools in the night breeze.

My stomach trips and lurches, but I fight back the bile that rises in my throat.

"This is the choice you made." His smile stretches impossibly wide as he cocks his head like a reptile. "Or don't you remember?"

Of course I do.

Bastard.

His eyes turn down and I follow suit, my eyes going wide as I see what he's seen, my hands painted thick in a warm tingling layer of blood. I look back up to him, mechanical, and his smile grows more sinister.

I turn away only to see my hand held out straight in front of me, cutting right through someone's chest, the flesh ripped open and now clinging to my arm. Sad, blue eyes look to me with tears streaming down baby round cheeks.

"I thought we were friends . ." he chokes out, a trickle of red stealing over his chin. I open my mouth to speak, to say I don't know what, but he transforms before I can find the words. And now tired lazy eyes, black hair, and pale skin face me; it is almost like looking in a mirror. His mouth quirks up into a pitying grin. "Foolish little brother . . " And then suddenly my arm has gone through myself, the younger version from back when I was still a genin.

Young and stupid and determined and I haven't changed much.

We two, older and younger, stare at each other blankly. Then he reaches up and takes hold of my arm, pulling it forward slowly, horribly, resolutely, widening the hole in his chest. More blood spurts out, bubbling from his mouth, but I feel the pain, deep and fierce and welcome.

They will never forgive me . . .

I hear a triumphantly cruel ku-ku-ku in the background as my life slowly slips away . . . \+\

Something hits me sharply on the head and my eyes pop open.

Staring to the blank ceiling, I fight to breathe, my heart racing, and somehow I can still feel the pain in my chest. I put a hand to my chest, grabbing the cloth there, as if that will slow the terrible ache. The words continue to echo through my head, the truth of them undeniable.

They will never forgive you . . .

A betrayer, a killer can never be forgiven, can never go back. Yet here I am anyway, in the same room as one of my victims and I don't know how or why. And it just doesn't seem possible.

I don't think I'm really meant to be here.

Sleep claimed me, but I did not rest. Each dreaming moment was filled with nightmare tosses and turns until the moment I awoke.

I've heard tell that if you die in your dreams, you die in reality. Judging by the pain I still feel pounding through my chest, I can believe it's true. And maybe that was meant to be but this outside force slipped its way into my predetermined fate.

The room is dark now, except for the soft glow of the streetlights and the eerie red of the heart monitor.  Night has fallen and I have slept for a good long while.

I'm not tired, but the weary stress still weighs in my bones.

Curling up on my side, I gaze out the window to see the streets of Konoha, empty but for the hidden ninja who prowl the gated edges of the city and the perimeter of this room.

There's an almost tense anticipation to their chakra and I wonder who their more anxious about: Naruto or me.

There’s a dull but quick slap to the back of my head that. It doesn't really hurt, but it’s probably what woke me. I roll over.

Naruto's legs and arms are tossed akimbo in an attempt to take over, staking his claim on some unnamed parcel of land, sleeping soundly beside me. In my bed. He's completely monopolized what little space there is, just as he used to back a lifetime ago when we were forced to share a bed in the days of Team Seven.

There's a sharp icy pain that shoots through me, there a moment and then forgotten, but leaving a dull, throbbing reminder of its passing.

I gaze at him, sprawled there on his back, mouth gaping open, the sheets tangled up and knotted around his legs.

It is quiet.

Too quiet.

Way too quiet.

All I can hear is the pulsing of blood in my ears. I can't breathe.

Naruto's arm is resting carelessly by my head, the instigator of all this and I take it, carefully, into my trembling hand. There's nothing to worry about, but my heart’s racing anyway.

I place my fingers to his wrist. There's the gentle beat of his steady pulse and I finally let out the breath I was holding, surprised that lack of oxygen didn't make me pass out. Then I move his arm so he hopefully won’t hit me again.

He's nothing more than a shadowy outline in the darkened gray of the room, hazy and ethereal as if any second he will blend into the background and disappear, merely another aspect of my recently interrupted dream. But this is a ridiculous thought.  This is real. He is here and I am here and for now at least, that’s not going to change.

The future is something else altogether.

I guess that at some point he decided to creep over to my bed.

Of course, this means that someone somewhere wasn't paying much attention; he’d have needed to turn off the machine.

He smacks his lips oddly in his sleep and runs lazy fingers through the unruly mess of his hair. Some short incoherent mumble escapes his throat, but I don’t recognize the words. He looks so peaceful and for a little bit, I am jealous. He has an innocence that I will never have, taken and given away as it was years ago, first by my brother and then by myself.

I'm still holding his hand.

Quickly, gently, I rub the palm with my thumb and then let go.

Naruto makes a strangled little whine.

The heat of his body and sound of his breathing help to lull me.

He’s the reason I slept better.

I've grown accustomed to it.

It's like when I was a kid and would sneak into bed with my brother. Shrugging up close, I'd throw an arm over his chest and rest my head on his shoulder. I was the one who went to him.

I was the one who was clingy.

But he let me.

And he’d smile.

I reach my hand over and, grabbing the far side of Naruto's waist and roll him to face me. He smiles sweetly and snuggles down into the sheets like a little animal. I lean my head forward so our foreheads touch and nothing else. He mumbles something soft and slurring I can't make out and shifts a curled hand forward, touching just the edge of it to my chest. He lets out a contented sigh.

So much like a little kid, craving the warmth and comfort of family. I was that way once too.

But I grew out of it while he's only now growing into it.

These are the only times I can let myself be anything but what I am.

I wish, in some dark, hidden part of my soul that I don't understand, that things could be this way all the time.

//But you are who you are and no amount of anything will ever really change that.//

I know.

But for now, I don't need to think about that.

About Sasuke, about the last Uchiha, the keeper of the Sharingan, the traitor, the murderer, the avenger.

The useless little boy . . .

No, I don't need to think about any of that right now.

I am alone and not alone and let the emptiness of unconsciousness retake me.

I’m awakened by something familiar I can’t quite place.

It is gentleness at the side of my forehead, a pleasant pull that comes and goes. There’s soft warmth at my scalp, which combs outward and I swear I can feel the touch even in the tips of my hair. Over and over, the caress that tingles under my skin in long, far-reaching tendrils. Making me lightheaded and drowsy, but not at all tired.

Yes, I remember this feeling.

It reminds me of when I was little and my mother would brush my hair while humming a quiet song. It's a nice memory that for once does not have the bitter tang of guilt that usually taints them. Reluctantly, I open my eyes.

The room is slightly lighter now, though not by much and it takes only a moment for my eyes to adjust.

Naruto reaches forward again, grazing my temple and threading his fingers into my long bangs, pulling out and twisting the ends delicately between his fingers. He does this again and again and again. It’s painfully slow in its repetition and his eyes cloud over as though hypnotized.

I don't think he knows I'm awake.

I look at him, the curve of his cheek, the telltale whisker-marks, and the deep blue eyes that pierce the dim light of pre-dawn.

He's grown.

I turn away. Naruto's hand slides across my face to rub a thumb under my eye. He seems to do that a lot lately. Some strange sort of reminder, I guess. I look up at him, my eyebrows creased slightly, my breathe more labored than it should be.

I just wish it would stop.

His gaze is soft but serious and he stares straight at me, as if in challenge. I narrow my eyes. The warmth of his hand moves over my cheek and slips off, landing with a quiet sound when it hit the sheets.

"Iruka said . . ." he starts.

I quirk an eyebrow. He pauses a second more before continuing.

"Iruka-sensei says that you brought me here, that you stayed everyday." His brow creases. I nod, both affirming what he's said and encouraging him to go on. "Even until it made you sick, he said. Is that true?"

I don’t know where this is going.  "It's not like I can rely on you to take care of yourself, can I?" I tease sarcastically.

His grin grows wide and he brushes the tip of his thumb along my chin.

"Thank you."

I only nod again and, feeling uncomfortable, return my eyes to the ceiling. The room is quiet, peaceful and still so I'm not sure whether I'm not paying close enough attention or what, but suddenly I'm dodging a punch aimed squarely for my jaw. "Naruto, what . .?"

Turning my head, I watch as the smile on his face quickly changes to a fierce scowl and both his hands pull back before surging forward, pushing me roughly off the bed so that my head hits the wall and I tumble ungracefully to the cold tile floor. "What the hell, usuratonkachi?" I scream at him, gripping the back of my head. Seething, I glare up at him as he kneels on the sheets, his head and arms slumped forward, a sinister aura radiating from his every pore.

"Don't do it again," he rasps dangerously.

I can feel my own anger rising up in me, burning hot, my hands clenching tightly into fists. Is he trying to hurt me?  Because I’m already there.  "What the hell Naruto? Did you not notice the bandage I have wrapped around my head? I know you're not the smartest person, but really . . ."

"DON'T DO IT AGAIN!"

Naruto screams loud enough to wake the comatose patients on the second floor. His stance grows momentarily straighter, angry chakra swirling around his body. I back up a little. I've seen this before and it's not something I ever wanted to see again. I steel myself, my fingers digging into the tile, bracing for the worst.

But the worst doesn't happen.

Instead, I am suddenly attacked by an overactive blond ninja who flops into my lap, not biting and slashing, but cocooning me like a parasite. One hand grasps my scalp, pulling at the strands of hair, the other clutching my shoulder so tight I'm afraid he might break an already cracked bone.

"What is wrong with you?" I say feebly.

"Don't do it again." It's whisper-soft and barely audible in the snuffling of his tears against my shoulder. Naruto squeezes tighter and I'm not sure how much longer I can manage to breathe.

He's always like this, some emotional little monkey, running from one side of the spectrum to the next, clear for anyone to see.

I'm nothing like him.

His arms are impossibly tight around me, his quiet sobbing echoing in my ear. He's a heavy weight in my lap, but strangely enough, not uncomfortable.

My hands twitch on the tile floor.

I inhale deeply, or try to anyway. Crinkling my forehead as I gather my will, I slowly raise my hands, still shaking, and inch them closer until they are almost touching him. I make light contact, nervous. It's the first real hug I've returned for as long as I can remember.

Naruto roughly shoves me away and springs to his feet, whirling in the other direction before I have the chance to think.

Huh?

My brain spins, while my stomach plummets straight down. Trying to follow Naruto's change of mood is like trying to catch air, it's there but it's not and you're never really sure what it is you're seeing.

//He really doesn't need you. He's just thanking you, like he would anyone. You are not special.//

Naruto wipes the back off his forearm across his face, clearing it of tears and sniffles slightly. "Idiot."

I sit up straight.

"Idiot? Me? You're the one who just threw me off the bed for no reason! And made me hit my head for the second time," I stress. "Did you not get the memo that I'm injured? Tch." Which reminds me. "Tsunade didn’t even bother with me,’ I grumble.

I ask it more to myself, but Naruto's shoulders tighten and he turns around, his head ducking down with a sheepish little grin on his face. "I asked her to wait until tomorrow, er, today."

I blink at him. Then, huffing, I turn my head away and use the bed's metal frame to stand. "Thanks a lot, dobe. Are you trying to kill me?"

"No." I can hear the pout in his voice.

"Could've fooled me," I mumble.

Ignoring him, I flop myself on the bed, lean back on one arm and assess the damage that idiot caused me. It really did sting, the back of my skull continues to throb and is growing into a dull ache. I run my fingers over the bandages and they come back wet. Pausing, taking a quick glance over at Naruto, who stands scrutinizing me, I sneak my hand around to take a peek as quick as I can. Red. I knew it. When my head hit the wall, a couple of my stitches must have popped. Closing my hand, I tuck it tight to my leg to hide it from him.

It’s just easier this way.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

It can't be that long until Tsunade comes back.

Naruto eyes me curiously, with that frown still on his face. Then he huffs, drops his arms and walks over. Instinctively, I lean away. Because now he's standing between my knees, a bit awkwardly close, and looking down at me. Just looking. I shift a little and narrow my eyes. Tentatively, Naruto lifts a hand and reaches toward me and I tighten my scowl when my body shudders.

Don't Naruto.

Just . . don't.

//What are you afraid of?//

Nothing. Uchihas aren't afraid of anything.

He lets out a weary sigh, gives me a false smile and settles on the bed beside me. I hate that smile. Fake and skin-deep as if I can't see what lies beneath. I hate this whole situation.

The mattress dips a bit under his weight and I find myself adjusting my legs to keep in place. He's sitting right beside me, close enough to feel the heat radiate off his skin, almost close enough to feel that skin physically. His eyes, intense and blue stare at me for long seconds before looking away into nothing. I make a point to do the same.

There's something wrong, that much is obvious. Naruto puts his hands flat on the bed behind his back, leans his chest forward, and begins swinging his legs. But he's taller now than he was and each time he swings one, it brushes along the floor, making odd little sounds echo through the room.

Scuff-scuff-scuff.

I sit silently and listen.

Scuff-scuff-scuff.

He watches as his feet appear and disappear from view.  His throat bobs nervously when he swallows.

He’s too quiet.

This isn't Naruto.

"What, nothing to say? Did you forget how to talk?" I tease him, hoping to get some rise, some spark of the old fire back.

He shrugs half heartedly, completely pissing me off.

"When did you get so quiet?" I spit out, more to the empty room than to him. This isn’t the right Naruto, the one who was supposed to come back with me.

He took it away and there's nothing I can do.

I hate my brother.

I hate Uchiha Itachi.

//But is that really the truth?//

"Sometime between losing you," Naruto says, answering the question I'd already forgotten. "And losing myself." With excruciating slowness, he leans towards me and rests his forehead on my shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut. I can feel the feather light lashes flutter on my arm.

And what exactly am I supposed to do?

Gingerly, I reach my blood-free hand over and place it on his knee, just how Sakura does. Maybe she knows something I don't.

"Naruto, don't . . "

But I don't get the chance to finish. The blond bolts upright and turns that near feral, desperate grin on me. "But I did totally save your ass, didn't I? You can't deny that now. I. Beat. You! Uzumaki Naruto is better than the great Uchiha Sasuke! I totally saved you from Orochimaru before you . . ." He stops suddenly, a choked breath lodging in his throat. He blinks and amends his statement, his smile more forced than before. "Before you proved yourself to be an even bigger loser than you already are!"

Letting out a snort, I curl my lip at him. Just great. Now he's what? Multiple personalities? Yet, it's better. Not perfect, but better. He smiles wider and looks away again and I follow suit, staring into the shadows. He sits back down and a few more moments pass in utter silence.

"What are we going to do?" He asks softly.

"We?"

He turns to glower at me. "Yeah, 'we'. This is going to be trouble, you know. They're not just going to let us off without some serious punishment. We could get locked up, or exiled, or worse!"
I shrug indifferently. It doesn't much matter. It's not as if I lived under the delusion that I’d just be set free.  "They can't let me go. But you . . . "

"Didn't you see what happened?" He cuts me off again, waving his arms emphatically. "Didn't you look outside? The fire, the destruction, the," he pauses, swallowing hard, "lines of dead stacked head to foot down the street? And they already hate me. This is just the perfect excuse to get rid of their little problem. It's not like that haven't wanted to for years. I've lived this way a long time, Sasuke. It's not like I don't know the truth."

My nails bite sharply into the palms of my hands. "They can't," I say through gritted teeth. "They can't do anything. It's not your fault. It was Itachi's. And he's dead now. They can't do anything."

"They can do whatever they want." He asserts.

"They can't." The hair at the back of my neck rises, an all-consuming, familiar fire burning through my veins. The very idea that after everything he's done for them, for Konoha, that they'd repay him with punishment is unforgivable. Since Orochimaru, I've worked too damn hard to get him back here to let it just slip through my fingers. Every muscle in my body tenses, ready to pounce, to destroy anything that gets in my way. "If they even try," My eyes bleed red. "I'll kill them."

//Yes, kill them all. Make them pay.//

If they even think about laying on a finger on him, I won't hesitate.

I'll rip every bone from their bodies.

"Sasuke." A sad little statement, choked off in the middle.

I turn to him, the rage in my blood still palpable, still blindingly hot, and see the shadow of tears in the corner of his eyes. There's such sorrow there, such loss, such something I don't know. He looks like he's about to break. "Sasuke." He says again and once more traps me in his arms, soft but definite, tender but strong.  He’s such a baby sometimes. "Please. Don't say that."

And I can feel my anger ebb slowly away, simply by his asking.

He’s still speaking my name over and over again in some strange strangled litany. "Sasuke, Sasuke. You're Sasuke. I know you are. I know it."

The pulsing in my neck dissipates, that all-consuming hate cools and that tunnel vision eases away until I can see clearly again. Until I am Sasuke once more. Flawed to be sure, but still me.

But I know, that if anyone dared to hurt him now, I'd do what I did before. I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

Pathetic, useless excuses for humans.

I'd kill them all.

Chapter Text

Tsunade shows up soon after, though it seems plenty long enough for me. My head still aches, this dull, pulsating pain, and I can feel the caked stickiness from the dried blood. Meanwhile, Naruto has somehow managed to fall back asleep and, annoying jerk that he is, does so still latched onto me, breathing out warm puffs of air onto my chest. I would have moved him, but even unconscious, he resisted and it just didn't seem worth the effort.

And now the hokage waltzes in and gives me an amused little smirk.

I glare at her, hard as I can.

Apparently unfazed, she gestures to me to follow her outside. Without changing my expression, I forcibly extricate myself from my leech and push him unceremoniously onto the bed. He utters a small disappointed whimper, struggles a little bit and then curls up around a pillow instead. Nice to know how easily I can be replaced.

Idiot.

I look to Tsunade who is unsuccessfully trying to stifle a smile.

It's annoying how difficult that wasn't.

But ignoring it all, I stand on my own two feet and walk proudly out the door, head held high. I reach the center of the hallway and stop, cross my arms and stare determinedly at the blank wall. A group of nurses pass by, chattering and giving me funny looks, maneuvering their way obviously around me. I don't care if I'm in the way. I'm not moving.

I don't care if there's no good reason.

I'm not moving.

There's the soft click as the door shuts behind me.

"Uchiha." Short, prim, to the point.

My back straightens; the family name is a trigger for me.

"Uchiha." Quieter, but sharp, leaving no room for debate.

So I turn and stare directly at her, this woman, this leader of Konoha. I am neither cowed nor awed by her. She is just a woman with a title. And I'm just a ninja without a home. She really doesn't have any say over me.

Except that I just so happen to be in Konoha.

She purses her lips, her eyes narrowed to slits as she assesses me up and down. Then she glares a bit more, her mind turning over what, I do not know. Nor do I care.

All I do is stare back.

After a few minutes, she speaks. "C'mon," she says, waving with her hand. "We'd better get you cleaned up."

Turning on her heel, she tromps away, not looking back and just expecting me to follow like a whipped dog, or in other words, like a well-trained shinobi.

I wait until she completely disappears from view.  Then I drop my arms and follow.

"If you were injured, you should have called someone," the woman chastises once I have joined her.  She unwinds the bandages stuck to my newly opened wound.

And when I say "roughly", I mean that she's taking the blood soaked cloth and ripping it free from the scalp it was melded to. My scalp, by the way.

I guess I can’t expect any better treatment after jeopardizing her precious Naruto.  But I don’t show pain.  It’s like an old friend.

"I'm not weak," I spit out irritably, addressing her statement, trying to make it seem like I'm pissed and not in pain.

It's not too hard.

I am pissed.

She hums uncaring under her breath and brusquely takes my head between her hands to examine the wound. Probing it with her nails a bit more harshly than I really think necessary, she clucks her tongue.

"I really can't take the time to constantly watch you to make sure you don't cause yourself further injury. If you're that hell-bent on doing yourself in, I may as well let you." She finally removes her hands and I whip my head around to glower at her.

The whitewashed room suddenly spins, the world turning on its axis and my stomach takes up residence somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. Fighting back the urge to retch, I school my eyes to their placid normalcy.

"If it weren't for Naruto, I'd simply banish you from Konoha." Her eyes bore into me, steely and cold. Now with Naruto out of the picture, it’s no-holds-barred, I see.

"It's Naruto's fault this happened." I state, indicating the reopened gash in my head.

"And how could you possibly blame him?" Tsunade retorts through clenched teeth.

As calmly as I am able under the strained circumstances, I reply. "Because he threw me off the bed."

There's a new twinkle of mirth in her eyes before she speaks. "Oh, I see." It's all she says, but it's clear she thinks it’s only what I deserved.  She knows I’ve hurt Naruto and we both know I’ll do it again.  It’s inescapable.

"Are you up for it?"

Up for it? Up for what? What the hell is this old witch talking about? "Huh?"

Her eyebrows raise to her hairline and she humphs at me, lifting her hands to either side. "I think you're well enough that I can try to heal you with my chakra." She closes her eyes and shrugs, uncaring. "You seem to be doing a little better, you may be able to handle it. Or it could be you're still not strong enough."

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. She's baiting me and I know it, but that hardly matters. I'm an Uchiha, damn it! "I'm fine." I answer, gritting my teeth.

She opens her eyes and flashes me what can only be described as a devil's grin before slapping her hands to my head.

It stings, but I make no noise.

I close my eyes and wait. It takes a while to feel anything at all different, and when I do, it's nothing more than a slight warmness leaking through her fingers. Sneering, I internally gloat. This is nothing.

But then the warmth vanishes, replaced by a tight pain that twists like a knife, small at first, but steadily growing until I feel like not only my head but in every nerve in my body. I grit my teeth, the sweat pouring down my temples and will myself to remain quiet. I will not cry or scream or any of that. No way I'm giving her the satisfaction.

My jaw is held so tight that I think it's trembling, a fact which I notice somehow in a place far outside myself. I'm concentrating so hard on hiding the pain that the process seems to take longer than it actually does.

But then, suddenly, she stops and as I open my eyes, I realize that the pain in my jaw hurts more than the one in my head. Stars sparkle briefly before my eyes and then are gone, replaced by an arrogant looking hokage.

She smiles at me. "Well done. For a moment there, I thought you might pass out again." She pats me on the shoulder with a condescending air and I swat the offending hand away in disdain. Her expression doesn’t change as she makes a passing check of my vitals, heart, lungs, sight, before declaring me fit.

The smile is still there when she speaks. "I suppose that means you're well enough to be released." Then without ceremony, she stands up and brushes nonexistent dust from her lap. "Your free time will end today, Uchiha. As of now, you will be put under official arrest until the truth of the matter can be sorted out."

She states it in passing, as if discussing nothing more than the weather, rather than the ominous turn my life has taken.

It's a tad insulting.

"What?" I state acidly. "Are all the ANBU watching me not enough?"

She tenses a second and I can't help but feel a small, if somewhat juvenile, moment of satisfaction. But she quickly collects herself. "Not for official business, no. We just needed to make sure for now that you wouldn't hurt anyone." I scowl at her and she glares back. "Don't try that with me, kid. You do not intimidate me. Now, I’ll allow you to go gather your things.  Someone will be here momentarily to escort you to your cell." She reaches her hand towards the door and takes a quick, meaningful look back. "I know you won't try anything, with all the eyes that are watching you. You'd best prove yourself smarter than that."

The knob turns in her fingers and the light from the hallway cascades in through the open door.

As an afterthought, she adds, "Oh, and tell Naruto that I'll be in to see him shortly."

"Then I'll wait until then." I respond, without further explanation.

She stares at me full on for a minute.

"You will, will you?" She says a bit mysteriously.

I don’t reply as finally, she nods her head.

"As you wish."

She leaves me alone and to my own devices without another word.  I suppose she considers it all right since I have no intention of leaving and of course there are all those pesky ANBU milling around.

I reach for the door handle but my hands slips on the cool metal, leaving behind a small red smear.

Yes, that's right, the blood. Odd that something so small could leave such a mark.

As I wash it off in the bathroom, an odd feeling of finality washes over me like the water.  Now comes the time when all bad men must pay.

It makes no difference at this point.

One prison is much like another, and I've been in one for a lifetime already.

So it is with the detached resignation that I finally open the door to my . . . no, Naruto's room.

"Where were you, you jerk?" Comes the yell the instant the door is open.

Walking up to where he's sitting cross-legged on the bed, I give Naruto a gentle cuff to the back of the head. "There's no reason to shout. I'm standing right here."

He deepens his typical pout, jutting out his bottom lip and giving me what I suppose he believes is an intimidating look, but really just makes him look childish. I ignore his lame attempt and go to get my things, pulling off the flimsy annoying hospital shirt-thing and put on the now over sized robe I arrived in. It stinks of blood and dirt and reminds me of where I've been.

No one bothered to clean it.

"You still haven't answered my question."

Huffing, I resume what I was doing, ignoring him as best I can. Which is no easy task with Naruto, as anyone who knows him can testify. He continues nagging me by way of a constant tapping on my back.

"I was with your hokage," I tell him, sick of his pestering. The tapping, thankfully, abruptly stops. I look at him over my shoulder. "By the way, she'll be here in a second."

He's looking at me strangely, fear and rage and sadness all rolled into one.  I turn my head.

"So she fixed you up then?" he asks.

"What?" I try to ignore the skip in my pulse as I pack my things into a tiny bag.

"Your head." He replies matter-of-factly and I whirl around to face him. He smirks sheepishly and waves a blood stained hand at me.

"Ah." I stow away the last item. There's this nervous tension that swells in the air behind me.

I lift the bag filled with my scant random things and deposit it by the door, blue eyes watching me the entire time.

"What is your problem, dobe?" I ask, exasperated. Because seriously, what is his problem? He's acting even weirder than normal.

"Where are you going now?"

Wearily, I turn to face him, arms crossed over my chest. "Where do you think?"

He blinks at me. Once twice, three times. OK, nice to know those motor functions still work.

"But, you can't mean . . ." He stops mid-sentence with his eyes wide and locked onto me.

"What did you think, Naruto? They'd just say, 'oh, that's alright, we forgive you for betraying us and trying to kill one of our own and almost ruining Konoha by letting Orochimaru get what he wants'? Oh, sure, that will happen. Idiot."

Naruto doesn't counter with some witty, or in his case inane, remark as I would expect. Instead, he lowers his lashes and looks forlornly off into a corner. "I never told anyone about that. I mean, Kakashi has his suspicions, I think, but . . ." He lets the words trail off into nothingness.

"What the hell are you babbling about now?"

He looks up at me, atypically blank. "I never told anyone you wanted to kill me." He shrugs.  “I mean, they know we fought, but they don’t know.  All the things you said . . .”

It's my turn to blink. And I do so, trying to process this information. "Why?"

He looks away. "I didn't want anyone to hold it against you. I don't . . ." The last part I barely make out and don’t think it was meant for me to hear.

All it does is confuse me more.

"Naruto . . ."

He stares off into a corner, into what lay beyond or behind and his eyes gradually change from blank to sad to outright anger.

Then all of a sudden and for no reason, he's shouting. "And what did you mean by that?"

"What?" I ask, when a fist comes at me out of nowhere. But I'm a little more prepared for it this time and I catch the attacking wrist in my hand. "What the . . ."

He's taken some little time trip, back to our interrupted conversation, and giving me whiplash in the process. He’s sudden become violent for no reason I can see.

"Stop calling me 'idiot'! You have no right to when you're the biggest ever, Sasuke!" He struggles in my grasp and I manage to keep him at arm's length, though he's trying very hard to tear at me with his claw-like nails. A cold finger races up my spine.

Again.

It's worse than it was earlier. I don't understand why this keeps happening.

"Naruto!" I yell, trying to get the real one to answer me.

He continues to flail in my arms, shouting out as he does so. "And what did you mean by that? What did you mean Sasuke!"

He's switching topics too fast, too erratically and I can't keep up. I have no clue what he's talking about and I don't have time to consider it now, not when I'm faced with a Naruto quickly becoming Kyuubi. If he changes now, it’s all over.  And that’s something I can’t let happen.  Naruto must remain Naruto or everything was pointless.

I grip his arms as tight as I can, bolstered by the fact that he's still yelling at me. Naruto is yelling at Sasuke and that tells me he hasn't completely lost control.

"Naruto! Listen to me! You have to calm down!" He still struggles in my arms. "Stop it, now!"

"You stupid, selfish, stupid selfish bastard!"

I can feel my own rage welling within me, coupled with worry and a tinge of desperation. I don’t know how to deal with this other than with violence and that wouldn’t help anything right now.

"Stop it, Naruto! Tsunade will be here any minute! And," Oh damn. I've just remembered the ANBU. "We're being watched. Get control of yourself or they'll storm in here and take you into custody. They'll throw you in jail, or worse. They might even," My voice catches in my throat. "They might even kill you."

He suddenly stops, grimacing at me, his eyes shifting between blue and red, blue and red and back again. I feel my heart beating wildly, panic still pulsing through my veins. But he seems to be calming down.

"Usuratonkachi."

There’s a heavy lump in my throat, uncomfortable and unwanted.  Slowly, my pulse settles as the red completely disappears from his eyes. The fangs recede and the nails shrink back to their normal, chewed off shortness and he is Naruto again.

He stares at me a moment without really staring, wearing this unnerving far-off expression. His eyes narrow and his mouth turns downward into a familiar frown.

"What did you mean . . ." He starts, back on the question he asked, as if nothing has happened.

And I think, 'he doesn't know.' He doesn't know he almost turned into Kyuubi.  That's a very bad thing, much worse than I’d previously thought.

He's supposed to have control; he's at least supposed to know.

Naruto . . .

The door swings wide open, no knocking, no announcement and Tsunade charges in, interrupting the unasked question hanging heavy in the air. The both of us look over to her, still somewhat tangled, my hands firmly holding Naruto's wrists. Out of instinct, I tighten my grip, as I often do when faced with something I don't want to deal with.

An infinitesimal moment lasts forever, my hands gripping tighter and tighter.

"That hurts." It’s a barely perceptible whisper.

I glance down and see the flesh of his wrists is turning purple. I instantly let go, knowing there’ll be bruises and wondering why he didn't just pull away.

It's not as if he couldn't.

One thing I've learned over these years of knowing him, Naruto may not be the smartest ninja around, but he sure as hell isn't the weakest either.

Slowly, he puts his hands in his lap and swings his legs over the side of the bed so that we are seated next to each other. So close yet leagues apart.

I look away, schooling my face into its well-worn blankness. No way am I letting him know how it bothers me that he's keeping me at arm's length.

Because it doesn't.

I don't need anyone.

Not anyone.

Especially not him.

//And that's why you practically killed yourself just to stay by his side? Because you don't need him?//

I scowl at the air. I hate being contradicted, especially when it's by a voice in my head. I'm a loner, an avenger. Nothing will change that.

//You contradict yourself.//

My scowl deepens.

"Well, well, boys. Nice to see you back to normal." Tsunade announces.

"Hmph!" Naruto crosses his arms and glares at the hokage. "What do you want now, obaa-chan?"
Tsunade's eye twitches, but the sickly sweet, false smile stays where it is. "Just because you're mad at Sasuke, don't take it out on me." She storms up and drills her fist right into his head. "Besides, brat, this is serious! You'd better start treating me with more respect. Particularly when it’s time to face the elders!"

"What is it with all the hitting?" He shouts at her, which she summarily ignores as she pulls up a chair and drops herself down into it. Naruto takes a quick side-glance at me, still glaring. So I glare back, expecting some trademarked Naruto insult. But I don't get one. He simply frowns and stares, creasing his brow curiously and turns away.

His eyes return to Tsunade as she picks up the previous conversation.

"The elders will want to talk with you, Naruto. Extensively. I'm sorry, but there will be an investigation and you will have to deal with the elders. However," Naruto shrinks. "You'll be under house arrest rather then jail.  You’ll keep the ANBU detail that I’m sure you’ve already noticed following you.”  The last part is grumbled under her breath.

Naruto only nods.

Tsunade raises an eyebrow, but quickly continues. "Your questioning will probably not be for a few days yet; they'll be talking with Sasuke first. And his interrogation will be more detailed and . . . different." A tanned hand shoots out and snatches mine, squeezing tight and I don't think he's aware he's done this.

It’s that word.

Interrogation.

"Even so, it won't be easy. There are a lot of questions to be answered, a lot of stories to be clarified. I'll help in any way I can, but it's going to depend a lot on you and how you handle yourself. To say that the elders' worst fears have been, in their minds anyway, validated, is an understatement. This provides the perfect excuse to do what they've wanted to do for years."

She leaves the rest unsaid, but we all know what it is.

And now they know how to do it.

"I won't let them."

I don't even realize it was me who spoke until blue eyes flash in my direction.

"Sasuke . . ."

"They can't blame him for something that wasn't his fault. It was the Kyuubi. The Akatsuki. My goddamned brother who's to blame." I feel like I’m being strangled. "They can't blame him for a situation that they caused to begin with."

Tsunade's eyes widen in surprise before narrowing again.

"I won't let them. If they even try, I'll . . ."

The bones in my hand are ready to break in Naruto's powerful grip.

"Uchiha!" The woman shouts into my haze-filled anger, backhanding me hard across the face. It's the sound that reaches me; I don't actually feel the hit. "I don't want to hear you say anything like that again! You're helping no one with this behavior. Not Naruto and certainly not yourself. The best way you can help is by letting them see that you are not a threat. Are you listening to me? Uchiha!"

But I feel like I'm hearing her from underwater, clouded and unclear, my vision gone to red and black, this pulsating hate, the room becoming fish-eye and my heart pounding in my chest. My consciousness seems to drift backward and that empty blackness takes over. Everything narrows, as if seen through a tunnel, cold and dark and separate.

This shouldn't be happening.

I'm supposed to be in control.

This shouldn't even be possible!

Someone is shouting at me, but I don't know who it is, I just need to concentrate. I won't let him win, not anymore, because if he does, then these hands . . .

Naruto's voice echoes in my head, the bitterness of memory biting at the back of my brain.

Is that you Sasuke. . .

Because if it's Sasuke, if it's Sasuke and this will make him feel better . . .

No! Idiot, idiot, idiot!

It wouldn't make me feel better.  It would make everything wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And I won't lose! I am in control. I am Uchiha Sasuke and no one else.

I despise you, you twisted bastard. You have no right to be here. You don't even exist.

The blackness begins to fade, the room coming once more into view, although it’s spinning crazily. My hand is killing me. At some point in time, I don't know when, I began gripping back. My breath is caught in my throat, stale and stagnant and full of bad intentions. I swallow it back as best as I can, close my eyes and take a deep breath.

When I open them again, both Tsunade and Naruto are staring at me, she with a tinge of suspicion, he with one of worry. As I turn my head to face him, the bones in my traitorous hands ache.

I almost lost.

When I look at Naruto, his eyes instantly brighten, not clear, but better and he gives a soft smile. How can he be so infuriating? So simple?

How can he be so trusting?

He looks at me as if he knows I will never hurt him when that’s exactly what will happen one way or another.

Perhaps what I need to protect him from most is me.

I wrench my hand forcefully free from his grasp.

I hate this.

Raising my eyes to Tsunade, I see that look, of mistrust and delicately concealed hatred. She purses her lips. "Does this happen often?"

I gaze blankly out the wide window opposite me. "No." It sounds like a lie, but it isn't.

I don't often lose control. But 'not often' is probably way more often than it should be. And considering what I'll likely be put through, it may very well happen again at the worst possible time.

"This could be a problem." Her voice is low and serious, but she's talking more to herself than me. She looks at me, then to Naruto, then back again, assessing both the situation and us. "What about you?" she suddenly asks Naruto.

"Oh, uh," He sheepishly puts a hand behind his head. "Some . . ."

"It doesn't." I cut in briskly.

He turns to me quizzically. "But . . ."

I kick his shin to make my point. "You're fine."

He pouts.

"That doesn't sound like fine to me." The Hokage butts in.

Fighting a glare, I attempt to gather my fragile, nearly nonexistent patience. "As long as no one tries to pull it out of him, or messes with his chakra, or pisses him off."

That’s probably not helping.

Tsunade hums quietly and puts her hand to her chin. Naruto's giving me a confused, thanks-for-nothing pout.

"Look," I say. "He'll be fine. He can handle it. You can," I say, looking at him. He blinks back, clearly unsure of himself.

"As . . . reassuring as that was, Uchiha, I think we'd better take some time to try and reestablish the seal. Preferably before facing the elders. As for you," she addresses me. "Maybe something to calm you down, block out the negative impulses."

I narrow my eyes at her. "What exactly do you mean by that? I don't want to be under some crazy jutsu influence or something. That’ll only make things worse."

"It's not a jutsu," Tsunade replies, waving her hand tiredly in front of her. "It's just something to help you relax."

"You mean like some kind of drug?"

A devious smile crosses her face. "Something like that."

I don't like the sound of this. I don't like the sound of this at all.

"Please, Sasuke." Naruto leans over me, big puppy dog lashes batting as if that's going to make me change my mind. "C'mon . . ." he pleads. Ugh. Anything to stop that whining.

"Fine." I huff and turn away.

Tsunade smiles almost brightly, but of course, she never smiles exactly brightly. There's always some wicked gleam in her eye, some dark, disturbing ulterior motive hiding behind all her pretty words. "Good. Now that that's settled. Naruto, you're progress is, as always, nothing short of amazing. Another day and I think you'll be fit to go home."

"Good! I'm sick of being in this stupid hospital anyway."

I give him a confused glance. His words lack conviction.

"But you won't be alone while you're here. I don't want a repeat of Uchiha's actions the other day." The woman raises her hand in a silencing motion before Naruto had the chance to protest. "No argument. Besides, I don't think you'll need one. I'm assigning Iruka to keep you company. It's only one day and I think the can kids can survive that long without him." She smiles.

Naruto instantly brightens up. Of course. Iruka is, after all, Iruka. The closest thing to a father he will ever know.

There's a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Tsunade yells, as if this is her room.

Two jounin whose names I don't know walk in.  They're here for me.

I can feel Naruto twitch beside me, but simply stand and grab my paltry bag of useless things.

"I'll take that," One of the jounin says, strict and proper, a female, and snatches it from my grasp.

I easily let it go. There's not really anything there that I want.

From the corner of my vision, I can see blue eyes darting this way and that, the unspoken question screaming into the silence. I approach the two nameless shinobi.

I won't look at him. I don't know if I can.

"Wait," Naruto says, a slight frantic pitch to his voice. "Where are you going? Where are you taking him?"

But they, predictably, do not answer.

"We've already been through this." I say.

A muffled cough and without another word, Tsunade gets to her feet and awkwardly exits the room, silently motioning for the two to follow her. They do so reluctantly and with great reservation. But still, she is their hokage.

I stand poised by the door, facing away, but I can hear him shuffling uncomfortably on the bed, his feet scuffing the floor.

"What did you mean?"

I sigh. Back to this again? "What are you talking about now, dobe?"

"You said," cold and sharp and meaner than I expected. "'Your' hokage. What did you mean? You're not planning to leave again, are you? You better not. Because I'll drag you back again and again, as many times as I have to . . ."

"Naruto." I stop his rant short. "As I recall, I was the one who dragged you back." He falls silent and I let out a heavy breath, raising my head to the closed white door. "Besides, there isn’t any choice."

"You always have a choice." His pout is clear in his voice, stubborn to the end.

That's a nice, naive thought, Naruto. But it's not reality.

"This is for the best." Maybe, my leaving really was the right choice. Maybe some people can never be friends. Maybe rivals and enemies were all we were meant to be.  Maybe the only way for our “friendship” to survive was to not really exist.

"I decide what's best for me," he says with determination.

Waiting a moment, staring at the empty whiteness, the minutes stretch before me. "And what would that be Naruto? What would be best for you?"

There's a small pause.

"To have my best friend back."

I tilt my head so that if I wanted, I could see him over the bend of my shoulder.  "That person doesn't exist anymore. If he ever did."

And then I open the door and face two jounin, harsh and unforgiving and waiting for me. One reaches out his hand to grab me roughly by the arm. Aligned like this, flanked on both sides by some of the best Konoha has to offer, we walk away.

I never look back to him, sitting quietly on the hospital bed.

And he never says anything to stop me.

The door shuts softly between us.

-----

The clank of metal sounds flat on the wooden floor. I'm surprised at where they've opted to keep me. It's sunny and warm and apart from the sparse furnishings and barred doorway, it seems more like a guest room than a prison cell.

I can smell a thick layer of dust.

They've both blindfolded me and bound my hands and feet with chakra-laced chains, not trusting me not to attempt an escape. I take a tentative step forward, trying to get my bearings and bump into a bundle of fabric lumped on the floor. Must be my bed. I drop to my knees and the dirt of the old, musty mattress flies up to meet me. A little of the ancient dirt gets into my mouth and chokes me

"Don't try anything." The female jounin from earlier says. "We'll be watching you."

Funny that she should tell me, as if I couldn't figure that out on my own. I still have one thing left to do. One more debt to repay and then I'm done.

Then, well I don't have anything planned for then.

I don't expect there'll be one.

Footsteps retreat down the hallway, soft and echoing, audible still to my ninja-trained ears. I throw the rest of myself to the bed and lay on my back. There’s no noise, now that the footsteps have ceased, not even the sound of my own breathing.

The sensory deprivation makes it easier to think. And remember. Neither of which I'd like to do.

The only thing I know for sure is that I have to protect him. I know he feels guilty, but he needs to get over it. It's the Akatsuki's fault. Itachi's fault.

My fault.

Not his.

I should have been watching him better. I should have been stronger. “I should’ve” many things.

But I'm sick of regrets; they haven’t gotten me anywhere but where I am now.

Alone, chained and in jail, waiting for them to find the justification to execute me. I'm not under any delusions. The once influence of the Uchiha clan has long since faded, overshadowed by the faults of the few left behind. Now there is only one.

And he is not exactly a shining example of trust and loyalty.

I feel it from everyone, even Sakura and Kakashi who say they believe and trust me.  But in reality, they don’t.

Not even Naruto.

It all adds up to one final, damning inevitable conclusion. Uchiha Sasuke is a traitor. Selfish, arrogant, unapologetic traitor.

It's all true. I make no qualms about that. Nor any apologies. What I did was right for me at the time. And I can't turn back, so why should I concern myself over things that can't be changed? No, I refuse to.

It was a short life, a wasted one some would say, but it was mine and I refuse to repent for it. There’s only one thing left undone.

I'll do whatever little I can to help him.

It's all I have left, it's what I have to owe.

I don’t know how or why or when he became so important, but he did.  I would have thrown my life away in exchange for his time and time again. This is no different.

So, they will not break me.

They will not break Uchiha Sasuke.

The only way it’ll work, that it’ll be believable, is if I condemn myself.

So be it.

There is nothing left for me.

So here it is Naruto. My friend, my rival, my most important person. I'll give you this one final restitution.

I just hope that it is enough.

------

A hollow clank greets me early the next morning, followed by that hideous, spine-itching screech as a plate scrapes along the floor. A milky sort of rancidness meets my nose as I make my way over to the dish.  I’m still blindfolded and restrained so it’s not a simple task, but I manage.

"Breakfast." A scratchy voice informs me.

Lovely.

But I take it anyway, surprised and a little thankful that they decided to feed me at all, even if I have to lean over and lap it up like a dog. But the demand of my rumbling stomach overrides my pride for just this moment. It tastes sour and out-of-date, an unpleasant gooey gruel sort of mess. It sits heavy in my gut.

I take back my previous thankfulness. They're probably just trying to make me sicker, make me more willing to talk when whatever they do wrenches my insides. I push the uneaten portion away.

All I can do now is wait as the sun heats up my little box like an oven.

This is most likely the day that will seal my fate, such as it is.

Anti-climatic, when one gets right down to it.

But I am resolved.

I’ll make my own decision, just as I always have.

"Wake up, little boy." says a distantly familiar voice out of nowhere.

I turn to the sound, ignoring the insult.

"Time to go," There's a gruff condemnation in the seeming flatness.

And so I stand, giving him no reason or excuse to hurt or question me. No reason to doubt. The added bonus of course is that he knows I do not fear him, whoever he may be.

I walk up to the locked door and wait patiently, unemotional as he opens it for me, the weight creaking on its rusty hinges. When I walk out, the door slams loudly behind me and suddenly there is a strong, not very friendly, hand gripping my arm, just above the elbow. I clench my hands into fists against the outrage, the only indication that the treatment rankles me.

And then we are walking, hallway by hallway, stair by stair, farther and farther still, down into the depths of the jail, a situation not wholly unexpected, but still does not bode well.

This is the place where no one can hear you scream.

I grit my teeth in grim anticipation.

Before I know it we are there, wherever 'there' is and I am thrust harshly into a cold, waiting chair.  My hands and legs are unbound from each other, only to be attached to the chair instead. OK, typical, but low-level procedure. Then my blindfold is ripped off and I am assaulted by an unexpected lightness. It is not dark down here, but brightly lit and the walls, instead of some dirty gray or black stone painted with numerous old stains from previous visitors, are a sickeningly sterile white.

It’s a little jarring, just as it was meant to be.

There are two ANBU, quiet and masked, standing at either side of the tiny lone doorway. As far as I can tell, there is no one else besides us five. Those two, me, my traveling companion, and a mousy, skittish type of guy looming before me.

Number four, tall, lanky and uncomfortable, slowly strides forward.

He stares at me, eyes twitching in their sockets as if he is about to have a seizure. He's more nervous than I am. I let my mouth quirk up on one side. I'll bet this is his first time. An interrogation virgin.

How quaint.

My internal victory, however, is short-lived. There is still number four, my traveling companion, the one with the disturbingly familiar voice. And there he remains, hovering like a vulture, the shadow to my interrogator.

His scars are uncovered, like a bleak reminder of what he has been through and therefore capable of doing. Of what very well may lay in store for me. I remember him now, a vague memory from way back when and the chuunin exams.

I swallow thickly.

He smiles, which seems like the calculating grin of a predator right before it latches onto its prey.

A moment passes. One. Two.

Then finally number five, who leans forward and brushes a rough hand gently over my cheek, breaks the silence.

When he speaks, his voice is strangely high-pitched.

"So Uchiha Sasuke. How about you tell me how you got those eyes of yours?"

Chapter Text

His name is Shinta.

A rather cute name for someone in his particularly ugly line of work. But then, one has very little to do with the other.

But I will say this: even for a novice, and despite his mousy appearance, he is quite serious about his work ethic. If "ethic" is even the correct term to be used in this context. It's a bit of a gray area.

I turn to lie on my back, shifting the dust of my lumpy mattress and firing sharp pains through my shoulder and down my spine. The muscles of my neck strain as I stifle a scream. I squint my eyes shut regardless of the fact that I can't see anything anyway.

It's been five days since I first entered this backward place, dirty where it safe, clean where it is not. I’m given plenty of time, like now, to think.

Unfortunately, they're more thorough with their job than I had presumed. Or I am a better actor than I thought. Or a worse one. It's hard to tell what is good and bad these days.

At any rate, I don’t see an end to this anytime soon.

Forcing myself to take slow, even breaths, I move as little as possible, desperate to keep pressure off my shoulders. Those joints hurt worst of all and I'd just assume not add to it.

The events of the last few days keep playing themselves over in my head.

At least I haven't said anything that would really hurt him yet. And despite the many things I have already told them, there are some things I will never speak. There are memories too important to sell for any price. Things who’s retelling would hurt me far deeper than some trivial physical discomfort.

Still, much as I hate to admit it, they got more form me than I intended and more than I want to recall.

----

The mousy man tilts forward so that his stinking breath fills my nostrils; I doubt he's brushed his teeth in days, maybe weeks. Finally, he breaks what felt like was becoming a never-ending silence.

"So tell me, how did you get those eyes of yours?"

And there it is, simple as that, the elephant in the room no one has heretofore wanted to talk about. Not since Naruto first saw, back when it was nothing but we two, fending for ourselves against the world and for each other.

But that was different.

He is different.

I know what this nameless man wants. It's the story everyone's dying to hear. The story of how Orochimaru, the Snake Sannin, the leader of Sound, great enemy of Konoha, was finally defeated. However, the truth is they'll be disappointed. It really isn't all that interesting. And as it turned out, not all that difficult.

Relatively speaking.

With all his enormous and terrible power, he had one basic, but fatal flaw. It's kind of funny now to think just how easy it really was.

The widely feared enemy of ninja everywhere, legendary and seemingly immortal, killed by two boys.

Yes, I know. That's what we were. Boys.

But that isn't to say I'll make it easy for them to hear the story. I quirk my lip, giving Mouse one of my patented sneers and answer him, only partly teasing, "They were a gift."

A flicker of annoyance ripples across his face, a clear indication that he is still new at all this. I sneak a glance to Ibiki as he supervises over Mouse’s shoulder.  The famous shinobi has his eyes closed and looks thoroughly bored as if he is on the precipice of falling into a deep sleep at any given moment. It’s probably just another aspect of their game. If he doesn't care what I have to say, he doesn't have to hear it.

I turn back to Mouse and remove any emotions. I am not afraid of him. The trace of irritation he showed earlier has disappeared, replaced by what seems to be condescending amusement. Placating and demanding all at once. He's learning.

I'm not sure whether to be insulted or honored that he's learning with me.

"A gift, you say," he slurs out, smoothing his hand unpleasantly over mine. "Now why on earth would Orochimaru give you those? They'd seem more like a punishment, don't you think?"

"How am I supposed to know how that guy's mind worked," I snap. Ironic, now that I think about it. I try not to be distracted by the creepy way Mouse keeps toying with my finger.

"Now tell the truth, Sasuke-kun. We are all friends here, are we not?" I barely hold back from saying anything about his use of that name. It reminds me of him and the way he used to croon it as if I were a pet. "Unless, of course, you are not really Sasuke-kun."

"What are you talking about?" He pushes my finger back so it stretches painfully, but I don’t do anything to show I’ve noticed.

"Well," he goes on silkily in that whiny high voice of his. "Orochimaru has always hidden behind the faces of others. So tell me, little snake, how are we to know who you really are?"

My anger rises even though I know that this whole act has this precise reaction in mind. But sometimes I don't know the answer to that question myself. Truthfully though, they can't really suspect I’m the snake or I never would have been allowed to roam free in the first place. So this is nothing more than practice. How annoying.

But now is not the time to let my emotions get the better of me. I will show them I am not some weakling to be trifled with.

So my rage subsides. Not through any conscious effort, but simply because this odd, almost outside force pulls it under control. It is a strange, distant, uncomfortable feeling that makes calm spread through my body. I have been trained to do this and my body acts on automatic. All I need do is let it.

I look at the mouse, such like a snake's prey, straight in the eye and answer. "I am Uchiha Sasuke."

The man's rehearsed smile falters for an instant. "That still doesn't answer my question. You see, we'd really like to know." He raises a hand to my face and gently traces the skin below my eye with his thumb, much in the way Naruto has done. As if he has some right. We’re not friends.  I don't even like the bastard. Not that Naruto should be doing those things either, but that's beside the point and it doesn't matter at this moment anyway because I can now feel what Mouse is trying ineffectively to distract me from. Anxious he is, moving so fast.

But then, he is new at this.

And this gives me time to prepare.

"Tell me the story of these eyes." His rough thumb rubs the sensitive area below my lashes, but I ignore him. "Until you do, you won't be able to go home."

Home? I scoff at him. How ridiculous.

I regulate my breathing, in and out, concentrate on my lungs and heart and direct my focus into this little spot inward just as I've been taught. My time with Orochimaru wasn't a total waste. This is nothing. I've faced far worse, from other enemies, and even more from my most recent teacher.

"Tell me, Sasuke-kun. Tell me about these eyes." So repetitive and annoying. I say nothing.

I feel the pull on my muscles and tendons, so slow that if I weren't expecting it, I probably wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. Sharper and sharper still, the skin pulled taut, I never let my eyes leave his, concentrating more on the hand on my face than the one pushing my finger until - snap! A short intake of breath is my only slip. I bite the inside of my lower lip to keep my mouth shut as well as to balance out the pain.

My left index finger is now bent all the way back at an unnatural angle, the first bone to break among what promises to be many.

It is a sharp point in my conscious, warm and prickling and throbbing and feeling as if any moment the pain will overwhelm my senses.

But I have been through this before, replayed in my mind and memory. The nerves of my hand know this pain and rather than rebel, they simply remember.

If these men think that's all it will take, they are in for a surprise. But then, I don't think they do. This is just a warm-up, the prelude to my real punishment. And if is all to end in death, as I suspect, than what is the point in fighting it?

But then, I always have my answer, simple and old and never changing.

Because I can.

Because I have my pride.

Because I am an Uchiha.

There needs be nothing else.

This is what I tell myself as the agony from one tiny injury begins to surge through my nerves and take over much more than it should. It may be because I can't seem to feel anything else; all the rest of my system has gone numb.

Little Mouse smiles at me in that contradictory wolfish way and continues to glide his disgusting bony finger over my hand in a silent tease. "Wrong answer," he says in what I'm sure he believes to be smoothly threatening. I clench my jaw and take a slow deep breath. Then I smirk at him.

"If you don't like the answer, then perhaps you shouldn't ask the question." I say with no intention of giving in. Yet. We still have a long way to go.  "I am Uchiha Sasuke."

Mouse closes his eyes, shakes his head and lets out a short laugh. And snaps back the next finger. I can feel my breath coming in shorter gasps, my chest trembling with the effort to keep still. Water wells in my eyes, but I blink it back.

I refuse.

Without conscious thought, I have gripped my right hand so tightly that the short ragged nails bite into my palm, a small trickle of blood slipping free.

"You really ought to make this easier on yourself. We will find out the truth eventually anyway." He finally moves that aggravating, filthy hand from my face and trails it down to my clenched hand. I can tell he feels the fist by how he looks at me, somewhat amused and I suppose in his sick mind, triumphant. He wraps his fingers under mine and pries them loose, though I put up little resistance. The wetness of my blood smears the chair and mixes with the sweat of my hand, making stickiness beneath my palm.

In that eerily familiar way, he traces the edges of my fingers with his own, carefully, as if mapping out and memorizing the contours before he takes hold of the smallest one. "I'll ask again. How did you get those eyes?"

But I don't speak, instead bracing myself again for the break. So I am caught off guard when rather than pushing the finger back, he yanks forward, effectively dislocating it and making my whole arm jerk.

A small startled grunt escapes me and I want to reach out and strangle the life out of him, watch as his face turns blue and purple, his eyes bug out and mouth fall open as he tries to get air. Watch as I steal his worthless life away, knowing that the face of his appointed victim is the last thing he will ever see. And I know, deep in my heart, if I really tried, I probably could. At least I'd get a good chance before the others bore down on me.

//Sounds like fun.//

The mark on my neck throbs louder than normal.

But no, I can't. Be quiet.

The idea makes bile rise to the back of my tongue.

And it wouldn't help anyone right now, so I must bear this and remember my promise.

The pain in my right hand helps balance the one in my left and I find it easier to concentrate on not feeling anything at all.

Orochimaru used to say I had a little bit of the masochist in me.

But it's not that I like it. I can just learn to deal with it.

I think it was his wishful thinking.

Twisted bastard.

I center my gaze back at my distraction and he looks at me, gloating and stupid. I can see behind him, around him, taking in the whole room at once. These yellow slit eyes are good for something after all. The two ANBU in the back remain motionless and emotionless in their white and black masks. Ibiki hovers at the corner, quietly assessing the two of us in the center of the room. I return my attention to Mouse.

Let's see how strong his nerves are.

One side of my mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin. "You know," I drawl. Yes, drawl is the correct word. "Snakes eat mice."

A flicker of confusion and just the tip of fear flashes across his face. "What?"

But I only smile back.

----

The door to my cell creaks slowly open and I sense a familiar chakra has returned, inching its way carefully closer. I remain perfectly still, not wanting this, not wanting to be seen, not wanting to be tended to, but knowing I can't exactly stop it.

She believes, in the little delusional corners of her mind, that she is helping.

I can smell her soap, cloying and far too flowery as she settles herself down on the floor beside my meager mattress. Even though I cannot see through my blindfold, I can sense what she is doing. Her eyes look me over, assessing the way I lay, the cuts and burns and injuries I have, both old and new. It takes quite a while, even with so few exposed, though why she takes so long I don’t know. It’s certainly not because of some feigned shyness. That ridiculous charade disappeared shortly after the first day.

I hear the quiet sigh of her breath.

Then her hand touches my shoulder, gingerly, but not gingerly enough as a spasm of sparking fire shoots through my body. She quickly pulls her hand away as if bitten and I turn over onto my stomach as if that will afford me some protection. The cool air of the cell helps to numb the ache just slightly.

"Sasuke." She's denying me of the little rest I am afforded.

I hear her settle down on the backs of her heels, crouched over and leaning in to ghost her unwelcome breath on my face. The heat of her body emanates over me like fog.

"Sasuke," whispered in pretend patience. "You have to get up."

There's hesitancy in the air and then her hand comes back to my shoulder, holding on, not tight but too damn fucking tight, and I grit my teeth, pressing my forehead into the mattress. It doesn't help, nothing helps except the passage of time until the pain fades and I grow used to it. Experience has taught me this.

The difference now is that I have a nagging "friend" who insists on helping.

It would be so much easier for so many reasons if she would just leave me alone as I have asked her to do time and time again.

She tugs a little and makes my stomach convulse in protest, shoving its weight onto my lungs. My breath comes out in short, labored gasps.

"See?" Sakura states as if vindicated, ignoring how she's the one making it worse.

With an unjustified, aggravated huff, she rips off my blindfold and my eyes burn from the sudden brightness that fills them. I rotate the irises, much in the way a reptile does and look up at her from where my head leans into the bed. I can feel the pupil shrink to a thin line and almost disappear. It's always a weird thing, one I haven’t yet gotten used to and hope I never do; to actually be able to feel the movements in my eye. It must have something to do with him.

Sakura flinches, unable to hide the fearful revulsion these serpent eyes tend to instill in those who see them. Good. She needs to remember whom she’s dealing with. But she quickly collects herself, pulls her lips into a thin, bloodless line and quirks an eyebrow in silent demand, request, expectation, whatever it is to be called, that I am to sit up. Thank you, no. The throbbing pain in my shoulder demands otherwise. It tells me to stay right where I am. But again, Sakura seems to not concern herself one bit for neither for my comfort or her safety. Reaching down, she takes firm hold of me and somewhat forces, somewhat guides, me to a sitting position. On instinct my arm lashes out, swinging around to push her away.

Which is of course a mistake.

The pain that shoots through my arm now, from my shoulder down my side is excruciating and I can't help but cry out. The slight coppery taste of blood fills my mouth from where I've bitten my tongue. Carefully, I pull my arm in near to my body and cradle it, though that does little to nothing to ease the pain.

Sakura only watches curiously and inclines her head as if I am a scientific specimen rather than a real person.

I glower at her; it’s her fault after all. In place of contrition, she merely purses her lips and stares at me.

"Are we quite done?" Again motherly, condescending and I would really like to hit her.

"Go away." I tell her, still glaring.

She only shakes her head. Always so simply, like she knows what is best. But the fact that she tries is the sole reason I tolerate her. She is one of the very few who believed in me, who fought long after fighting was futile. She manipulates this to her advantage.

I am too nice.

Still, I suppose I owe her for that stupid unsolicited loyalty. She’s trying to help, in her convoluted way, even if it really causes more hurt.

//But you so enjoy that pain, do you not? Seeking it out like a puppy. Do you think it will make things better?//

Shut up. I don't have to listen.

But pain is real and knowable and in some way tangible. It keeps me sane, it keeps me grounded. It is like the scars I have carried inside all these years, only made physical. I need it to tell me who I am.

This is the first time it has betrayed me.

Damn ANBU.

But Sakura cares nothing for this as she orders me about, clucking like a hen. "Turn around," she states, as if expecting me to obey. I do not and with an angry growl she gets up and squeezes behind me, propped up on her knees with fingers poised. She places her hands on my back, working through the grimy shirt I now wear to concentrate on my shoulder and attempt to massage things back into place.

"Would you just stop it already?" I spit out. "How many times do I have to tell you to leave before you can actually process it?"

But she is used to my protests and continues anyway, as she always does. "Don't be a baby. You know I've been forbidden from using chakra to heal you. But if I don't do something, the damage could fester and become permanent and then what will you do, unable to be a ninja anymore?"

I let out a disgusted snort. There she goes again, glibly talking about the future as if I have one. But maybe she needs to believe in a fantasy and a little pain is hardly anything to me at this point.

Maybe I should just let it go.

So I grit my teeth and clench my fists as she performs whatever sadistic methods she's chosen, knowing it’s better to just let her have her way sometimes. Sakura is uncompromising like that. After a while, it’s not entirely horrible, almost nice in its fashion. Just as I am letting my mind drift away, surrendering to the familiar pulse of pain, the girl jerks me back to reality.

"Take your shirt off."

What. the. hell?

She hasn't asked this in any of the other times she's visited. Slowly, I open my eyes, and even more slowly, I turn my head to look at her.

"No." I say as forcefully flat as I can.

Once more she sighs, her hands resting primly in her lap. "Look, I can't get the access that I need with this fabric in the way. Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Why do you have to be so annoying?" I snap back. "I didn't ask for your help and I don't need it. There's no point anyway." It's the truth. Each day is very like the last, pain and more pain, asking questions I won't answer.

I quickly look away from her watery green eyes, hurt and angry at once.

Then I feel them. Warm hands against the skin of my lower back, sneaking under the shirt and sending a shock wave through my system. Without thinking, I jerk my arm back to prevent her from touching me, wrenching my other shoulder and accidentally (or maybe not), elbowing her harshly in the ribs.

My arm feels like it’s on fire, but I force a glower and look at her over my shoulder.

Those tears are back full-force as she raises her head to me, pouting and determined.

'Get it together!' I tell myself. 'What kind of Uchiha are you anyway, afraid of a little girl?'

Which is stupid of course. Sakura is anything but a little girl and given the situation, fear is not entirely out of line.  But weakness is not a part of who I am.

Damn that Orochimaru.

I turn away, my back curled and my hand clasped around my calf for some sort of support. It wouldn't do to show fear in the face of the enemy, and right now, that's precisely what Sakura is.

Gently, she slips her hands back beneath the hem of the shirt, lifting it up and rather than removing it completely, tucks it by my neck and shoulders, so that my back is fully exposed. The cool air hits me and causes goose flesh to rise over my spine. The scars of many years almost tingle with the sensation, some new, some old, and I can count them, each and every one. I remember them all. I hear a short, poorly hidden gasp. It’s the first time Sakura has seen many of them.

Then, scarcely even there, I feel her hands press themselves to my skin. Rough and calloused, but soft in their gentleness, they are both exactly the same and vastly different to all the other hands that I have known. I fight the tightness that takes over my body as she kneads her knuckles into muscle and pulls on the joint of my arm, trying to ease it back properly. Despite the restriction, I think I can feel the faintest hint of chakra. It is risky.

And all a wasted effort.

Her fingers are small and warm and try as I might, I can feel each one distinctly as it pushes into my back, testing the extent of injury, and making it tense worse with expectation.

Every nerve is strained, waiting for the pain and for the betrayal.

'Stop touching me!'

'Just stop touching me!'

My brain itself feels tensed as I keep my emotions inside, not wanting anything to show. I am Uchiha Sasuke. And I am not affected by something so simply plain and stupid.

Sakura stops and lowers her hands. "What's wrong?" she asks quietly.

My eyes pop open, not even realizing I had been squeezing them shut. There is the dull pain of bruising where I'd gripped my calf and my jaw feels sore. Failure.

Sakura scoots around to sit at my side then raises a hand to carefully brush away the tear that had slipped from eye. I jerk away and whip my head to look at the blank wall.

'It isn't what you think.'

I hate being this way. I really hate it. Even more so because I can't seem to stop.

Crying like some pathetic kid. Always crying, never changing.

I hate it.

My shirt is pulled back down, covering me, and I instantly feel a little calmer. So ridiculous that it should make a difference.

I grip my hands into fists and want to scream.

Sakura just watches.

I don't want to look at her; I can't.

"Why?" she asks me quietly. "You let Naruto. Why not me?"

But I have no answers for her. I shake my head. It can only be Naruto and not even him. The first time he came near me I struck out so fiercely I broke his arm.

I wish he were here.

I hate wishing he were here.

It’s cold and empty in this room.

I clutch the worn and old fabric of this used shirt close around me. It is rough against my fingers.

Chapter Text

 Little Mouse looks unsure of himself, thrown by what I've said, but I say nothing more, no explanation, no elaboration. The disoriented look on his face is priceless.

Then he collects himself and plasters on a thick smile. "Is that so?" They are the only words he can seem to come up with.

My smirk deepens.

His eyebrows crease together and he turns and walks away, shares a single glance with Ibiki and lazily pulls a kunai from his pack. Ah, so we are up to this now? No matter. One pain is much like another. I have ways of dealing with them all. His feet are soundless as he nears me, floating across the floor, twirling the blade neatly in his hand. I keep my chin lifted, my eyes on him, waiting for his next move. The pain in my fingers is a constant thrum, burning and even, but I will not allow it to distract me. I have trained for this. That is what a ninja does. That is what a Sound ninja does. And no matter what happens now, that is what I will be seen as, what I will always be.

And so I will embody all that they think that name entails.

Mouse stops in front of me, swaying slightly on his heels and just stares. Minutes tick by and nothing. I wonder if he hasn’t yet decided what to do, or if he’s working up the courage.

Then he makes his move.

He reaches forward slowly with his free hand and pushes away the collar of my kimono, both sides until my skin is open to the clinical air of the room. It is gentle and nauseating, this action of his, and not altogether unfamiliar.

He traces a hand, rough and partially clad in leather, down the naked skin of my chest, an odd and discomfited expression on his face. Subconsciously, my nerves tense, on alert. Then he trails downward with the tip of the kunai, not enough pressure to draw blood, but enough to feel steel against my bare skin. My pulse picks up and my breathing grows erratic, there is no way to prevent my body from readying for what is to come. The look on his face is vapid and confused. He leans in to whisper muffled nonsense to me that I can't quite make out. My ears are already filled with memories I'd rather not hear. Of other times, much more frightening times, than this.

I can still feel that other hand on me, so disturbingly gentle, a caress across my naked collarbone, the fingers smooth as if they have never seen work. Cool and comforting, they make little swirled designs as they move downward, over my ribs and across my stomach. My breath catches in my throat, my heart and lungs competing in some race I can’t control. He leans into me, never stopping the fluid movements of his fingers, his long hair tickling over my face and his breath warming my ear. It is sickly sweet when he speaks, like treacle, and my stomach lurches uncomfortably at the silken familiarity of his voice.

"Sasuke . . ." This delicate entreaty is all he ever says at times like this, my name and nothing more; not even the -kun of which he is so very fond.

I can't stop the response. No one has ever spoken my name in quite that cadence, smoothed over my skin in quite that way, all exposed, soft and tender and soothing. It is nothing like the hits and punches and kicks I've grown up with, or the methodical application of medicine I have come to know in my later days.

The most recent embraces that felt closest to this were from my teammates, Naruto and Sakura, and they were tainted with circumstance. And not nearly so intimate.

And long, long before this nest my memories of Itachi. Of when I was little more than a baby and my nii-san had to take care of me, bathe me and dress me and I'd rather not think of those things.

The snake's hand lights over my abdomen, making the muscles twitch involuntarily. I feel myself start to hyperventilate, not exactly sure why.

He laughs into my ear, breathy and sharp; I can just barely sense the wetness of his tongue as it touches his mark on my neck. Then, in the next instant, his hand drives straight through my gut, his nails ripping skin, fire igniting at each point and I would swear he takes hold of my internal organs, juicing the blood and life from them, spilling the contents over my legs to spatter on the floor. The pain I feel is like nothing before and nothing since, pinpointed by the contrast of sweetness that preceded it.

He is a master of it.

He showed me what a fine line it is between gentleness and brutality.

To my shame, that first time I screamed, so sudden was the pain.

The second time I screamed again.

By the third, I wait in grim anticipation, knowing what is to come. That time, I only cry, the tears a bitter acid that trickles accusation over my lips. Pathetic, useless, weeping little whelp.

I hate myself for it, as he knew I would, and with each subsequent torture, new and varied from the cruel creativity of his mind, I fight those condemning tears that spring to my eyes.

By the twentieth time, I do little more than gasp.

By the fortieth, I have learned the routine and simply wait.

And every time he would smile at me, wide and toothy and disturbing, and reward me, once I was healed by Kabuto, with an affectionate caress I will always associate with him. He'd trace circles over my bandages like a lover, my name the venom that slid over his serpentine tongue. And all the while relishing how I can't stop the look of fear and anticipation in my eyes. He enjoyed that more than anything else.

I could tell.

I hate that most of all because of how it makes me feel.

Because I kind of like it.

It was soothing in a way that is new and pleasant, even if false.

I was, after all, and after such a long time, truly special in someone's eyes.

Even if it was for the wrong reasons.

The feel of a clumsy, rough hand dragging across my stomach slowly draws me from my reverie, the very pores of my skin bristling in protest. I know what is to happen next, so when the burn of chakra-heated metal scorches me, I do little more than hiss through my teeth.

The way the iron blisters my skin is slow, as if time itself has ceased just for this purpose, and I can sense with a detached sort of interest when the surface of my stomach begins to redden and melt. Then the kunai is pulled away, dragging bits of skin with it, and the air of the cell hits me like a spike of needled ice. I let out a sharp cry and then gulp in that air, trying to stop the punctuated quiver of my muscles.

But I cannot and my lip trembles.

Beady eyes look up slyly into mine and I give him my best scowl. Or my worst, dependent on one's point of view.

The recent brand sears through my body, pulsing and throbbing and prickling and feeling much larger than it really is.

Mouse raises an eyebrow and sneaks his way closer, fingers tracing evilly over the newly bubbled skin. My breath catches awkwardly in my lungs, but I force it back.

"Afraid?" he asks, feigning compassion.

I scoff, more like a strangled bark, and screw my face into a look of disdain. "Of you? Hardly." But as soon as I say it, I clamp my mouth shut again, any movement seems to accentuate the growing burn on my stomach, which has overtaken the breaks in my fingers.

Shinta clucks his tongue annoyingly and shakes his head, resting his hand on my arm, cold against the heat of my pain. "Then why are you trembling?"

I am about to retort back that I have just been burned, but I bite it down, knowing it’s only part of the reason. I curse myself for this conditioned reaction, this sick mix of terror and expectation.

I know what is to come and dutifully, like the trained dog I hate to be, I wait for it.

I swallow thickly.

"It’s not because of you."

The words are meant as a shield to protect me from worse things, a fact which does not go unnoticed by my conscientious host. He stands up straight, denying any small measure of protection his body afforded.

My breath is trapped for a dreadful moment in my throat.

"Then," he says dryly. "Tell me, dear Sasuke" so damned familiar like he has the right! "What makes you tremble?"

I open my mouth, but my obstinate head is screaming, 'no, not yet!' They have yet to earn the right to hear the evidence I'll freely offer. It’s too soon. It has to appear to be wrenched from me unwillingly in order for them believe. Their opinion of me is that I will be stubborn to the end and I must not let them down.

Everything has to be right so that I can fulfill my promise to do what I can for him. Naruto. The memory of you and the vow I made will sustain me. Because I will stand by my vows.

That's your way, is it not, Naruto? And for now, for this fleeting moment in time, it will also be mine.

----

The wall in front of me was once white, but is now more of a dingy gray, speckled with age and abandonment. There is the sound of rustling behind me, a short, fidgety noise that tells me Sakura is still there watching, as if there were any way I could forget.

The silence surrounds us like a worn blanket, scratchy and uncomfortable and providing negligent warmth, the holes it bears letting every bit of cold sharpness in.

Then she comes closer, halfway crawling on her knees, a piece of gauze in one hand, and a bottle of antiseptic in the other. Carefully, as if I will shatter, she takes one of my arms and meticulously works on it like the medic-nin she is.

"He wants to see you," she says quietly, eyes downcast, daubing at the angry scars on my wrist.

And I want to see him, though I say nothing. I want to see him so much that it aches. It is a need far stronger than I would have imagined; than I could have even conceived of only a few short months ago.  I don't like it.

"He's been causing everyone grief," Sakura continues. "We actually had to lock him up for a while to stop him from charging the tower."

Heat rises to my face and colors it pink. It's a little difficult to believe. I understand in a sense why I'm so connected to him. He's been the one true constant in my life. Even when we were far apart, even when I threw it away, there was still that inexplicable pull that binds us together. But he shouldn't want to see me. Shouldn't want anything to do with me. He . . .

. . . should hate me.

I know that.

I watch as Sakura pats medicine-soaked cotton over the welts of my skin. Her face is a study in concentration, her eyes glowing green and the short strands of hair framing her face. She is no longer a girl with wide-eyed dreams and silly notions. I hadn't noticed before.

"Why do you bother?" I ask, knowing she'll hear the unspoken "with me."

She shrugs her shoulders. "Because you let me. Because I know this can't be all there is, that it can't just end here. Everything will be alright," she says, not looking up. "It has to be. We're all doing everything we can to help you, so that it will be alright."

"I don't need your help." I grumble.

"Yes you do." She glides her hand down my arm, making the hairs tingle. She chuckles, almost sadly. "Naruto gave Iruka quite a hard time, you know. I think they finally had to settle for camping outside the front door. No matter what they did, they couldn't keep him away."

I stare up at the blank ceiling, looking for answers that aren't there.

"He confuses me," I say out loud without meaning to.

There’s so much he should demand of me that he doesn’t.  But I know I could never give him anything.  I have been myself for way too long.

There's some innate defectiveness in me.

And he should hate me. But he doesn't.

I don't get it.

I want to see him.

"You've changed." Sakura continues the useless bandaging of my arm.

"No I haven't." I lower my head. "I'm exactly the same as I've always been."

Sakura regards me a moment, testing the makeshift splint on my three broken fingers with her nail. She sighs. "Maybe you haven't and I just never noticed. Maybe Naruto is the only one who really saw you before. You were always chasing each other, fighting, competing, working together. I was always left out of whatever it was you two had." She corrects herself. "Have. You were always a step ahead, a step to the side, and no matter what I did, I stood in your shadow." She pauses and flashes her eyes back and forth before taking a deep breath. "What exactly is between you and Naruto?"

I chance a look at her. What I have with Naruto is not a thing to be put into words, a simple situation to be given name or identity. It is a connection that has always been there, only recently acknowledged and yet to be fully accepted. But that is not an explanation, not really.

Spending too much time in this barren cell has made me too damn philosophical.

"I don't know," I answer honestly.

It changes nothing.

My mind rolls over his name, warm because he is and I remember how often I turned against that. The pain of memory is like a knife, twisting and turning and staying open, far deeper than any physical wound.

Sakura rubs her fingers over the unbroken part of my hand. "But you will," she reassures. "You'll figure it all out and everything will be OK. I believe that."

But I'm barely paying attention to her.

In my mind I can see his stupid blond hair, messy and sticking out in every possible direction, those eyes that are open and yet hide so many secrets. I can remember with photographic accuracy the way he looked at me, believing when he shouldn't, hoping when there was no hope left.

I don't know what it is about him that makes the impossible possible. It's not the Kyuubi, not his chakra, not some special secret technique that he spent years to master. It is some indescribable but distinct Naruto-ness that belongs to him and no one else.

He makes you see him.

Sakura nods silently and her warm hands move up to my bicep, gently pushing away the fabric of my sleeve and begins applying a stinking salve to the injuries there. She says nothing more and just goes about her work, watching me.

But I am elsewhere, back to when I brought those ANBU to the turning point, to that moment when everything that seemed lost and forgotten was found.

Back to when I once more saw Naruto, only different from before, a glass held up to my face in which my reality showed clear and crisp and sharp.

I suppose I should thank Orochimaru for that.

Without him, I wonder if it would ever have been possible.

-----

I no longer know what the date is, nor do I care. I've spent countless hours in this white-washed interrogation room, refusing to speak and paying the price. I can't recall the exact number and types of injuries I now bear and I think it may be better that way.

If my calculations are correct, I am on day four and somewhere along the line my obstinacy overtook my promise, as seems to be my nature. Only in little bits and pieces have I told them anything of what happened on the day Orochimaru died.

There's a harsh jerk and my shoulder pops angrily at the motion, screaming in pain. My wrists are already purple and bleeding from the rough rope that binds them over my head, supporting my body from the ceiling. I let out a loud, short bark and feel rivers of sweat pour over my face and down the rest of my body. It is far too cold in here and the sweat that drenches me cools instantly, sending a further chill down my spine.

I can barely breathe, my lungs feel full of dirt, heavy and dry and useless, but I do my best to glare.

Shinta, who at some point decided we should be on friendly terms and oh-so-kindly graced me with his name, paces in front of me like a predator.

But he is still a mouse, weaving his way through the labyrinth, not knowing that at the end lies darkness down to the belly of a snake and nothing more.

That is not to say, unfortunately, that everything has gone according to plan.

Actually, right now I'm thrilled I can think at all, the consuming agony of my shoulders makes the folds of my brain hurt. Tears mix with sweat, making the two indistinguishable from one another.

My eyes dart over to Ibiki in the corner, who now stares back at me, an almost amused quirk to his mouth. I narrow my eyes at him and pull my eyebrows together slightly.  His mouth lifts just a bit more on one side in response.

I think he knows.

Perhaps only Mouse is the one who thinks he’s still in control.

Turning my gaze back to him, I see that he’s stopped moving, set in place like a statue and regarding me seriously with the hint of aggravation hidden in the crease of his forehead. Then he rolls his shoulder and takes a step to plant himself squarely in front of me no more than a half meter away, and swings the free end of the rope in his hand menacingly. Even without any movement, my joints ache in complaint and my body tenses. They have been imprinted.

Mouse's smile widens in a hint of triumph.

Every muscle screams at me in sharp constancy and the pain of it begins to haze over my mind.

"This would be so much easier for you Sasuke-kun, if you would stop being so difficult and just tell us what happened to your master." He lets the words trickle like syrup, too sweet and sticky. I hate, like many of the things he does, the way he uses that word. Master. In a sense, it is of course true. But he hurls it like an epithet. It is an insinuation I do not appreciate.

But I’m too tired to put in the energy to care.

Somehow, I manage the semblance of a smirk and, looking straight back at him, reply in halting words, "If that's all you wanted, you should have asked ages ago."

In the far corner of the room, I see the sick grin on Ibiki's face deepen as he closes his eyes and leans his head back on the wall behind him. Mouse, however, is momentarily taken aback and stares blankly. With an obviously confounded cough, he rests his weight onto his back leg and clasps his hands behind him. He puts the practiced smile back into place and looks expectantly at me, as if I am now to just blurt it all out.

I acquire a look of cool contempt, blessing the god-granted numbness that has finally taken over my hands and creeps down my arms, giving me a taste of relief. It is better to feel nothing at all and it gives me the strength to address him in my most belittling voice.

"I believe it is customary to offer something in exchange when you ask for a favor," I say flatly.

I need the room to stop spinning, for the pain to end.

Mouse raises his eyebrow dubiously, which I'd love to rip right off, and it is clear that despite his declaration of friendship, the trust is still not there. Yet through that suspicion, I see a genuine spark of interest.

"And," I continue, encouraged. The deadness spreads and blissful nothingness is quickly approaching. "I hardly think you can expect someone to give you what you want when you treat them so shabbily."

Mouse takes a quick glance to his boss who nods without looking, having already expected the gesture. Shinta turns back to me and shifts from foot to foot, considering. "I could . . ." he pauses a moment, looking at my bindings. "Allow you to be more comfortable as we talk."

My answer is a look that tells him this should not even have been a question.

Yes please. I want to be able to breathe again.

He takes a tentative step towards me, then realizing his inappropriate temerity, strengthens his stride and continues forward.

He is skittering right into my waiting hands, like the little mouse he is. I smell the defeat on his skin.

The rope is undone and I fall to the floor in a pitiful heap, screaming out shortly as blood returns to my hands, starting the torment anew. But maybe now I can rest, sweet, blissful rest.

I don't know what happens in the time that follows, all I can feel is the pain and exhaustion.

It is some while later that I am able to tolerate it and manage to take control of the situation with a little cajoling. Mouse, I have discovered, is as easy to manipulate as fresh clay. He has a long way to go yet.

I sit on the floor and take a nibble of the table scraps set out before me. One bite is about as much as my starved stomach can handle before refusing it. The restraint that now latches my neck to the wall makes me feel like a dog. But that is not the point. The point is, without him noticing, I've gotten our little Mouse to switch his tactics.

He'll figure out soon enough, that he has played along with my game and not his own and then we'll be back to his old crude and ineffective methods. But for now I have won and my "friend" will always remember that.

I shift a little and that sharp, agonizing pulse reasserts itself.  But I think, if I don’t move too much, I can handle it.

"I am tired of waiting, Sasuke-kun. I have kept my promise and more, and now I think it is time to keep yours." My "friend" can't keep quiet for long and his annoying use of that name gives me pause. I almost refuse the story to let him know who is really in charge here.

Truth be told, it's that scarred, brooding man in the corner who's in charge, but that is a debate for another day.

But then I look to the doorway, the two dutiful ANBU standing guard, and see tufts of spiky, light colored hair peeking out from above one of the masks. It is wheat-colored and dull, but it still reminds me of another head of unruly hair.

I will not forget, Naruto. I promised.

So I settle back, pulling a glass along with me and take a healthy drink, knowing by the soothing warmth that fills me that it has some sort of numbing draft in it meant to make these proceedings flow easier. I dimly recall Tsunade saying as much and it is just as well since I could certainly use it right about now. The pain eases and drifts away. Resting my hands on the floor, I stare at Mouse and make him sweat nervously for a few satisfying seconds. It is more fun than it has any right to be.

But I remind myself that is not the game I came to play, tempting though it is. "Anxious, are we?" I tease, my voice hoarse and scratchy. My body feels heavy and relaxed and I languidly raise a finger to wag at the objection I can sense is at the tip of his tongue. "I said I would tell you and I will. Rewards come to those who wait."

The last sounds to me as if it is told in someone else's voice, a thick silky one, but so what. I shut my eyes and sigh, wrapping my arms around myself, letting pleasant, liquid-induced tranquility wash over me.

"Well?" Mouse snaps irritably.

I should berate him for that; he really doesn't listen, does he? And one would think a man in his line of work should learn a little patience. And yet, I still don't care. Instead, I feel myself fall backward into my own past, when I was someone else and yet myself, not so long ago.

And the words of my last day in Sound come tumbling out of my mouth as if running from themselves, trying to be free.

::------------------------------:----------------------------------------------::

There is nothing. My heart and mind are calm. Still. Accepting. There is emptiness where once I was and now only sits the vessel of Uchiha Itachi's demise.

There is a certain amount of peace in knowing an inalterable future. There is no other option, no more uncertainty, no more disappointment. No more wasted days of endless exhaustion from working my bones bare just for one more ounce of chakra or one more second of speed.

No more futility.

Just quiet.

I did not realize until now how much I needed it.

There's a gentle, almost polite knock at the door that under any other circumstances I would find amusing, so out of place as it is in this snake's lair. The door creaks open and Orochimaru waltzes in assuredly, with the tingle of anticipation sizzling just below his skin. I can almost feel his nerves vibrating, hear the excited hum of the blood in his veins. His long fingers twine together and he turns to me, the thin cruel line of his smile slicing his face in two.

I know what he wants.

It is time.

I slide myself from the bed and slowly walk toward him. We are close in height and I need only tilt my head up slightly to look him in the eye.

I hadn't meant for it to come to this, not really, but I am no fool. I knew this was a possibility, and like all things, it is my choice and I accept it.

He opens his mouth and his pink tongue darts out to swipe across his lips in animal-hungry fashion. My indifference never wavers; my face has been devoid of emotion for two years. Orochimaru has wheedled it all out of me and tossed it away like yesterday's trash. It had little use anyway. It clouds my thoughts and distracts me, getting in the way. An avenger has no need for such things.

My teacher reaches out a pasty hand and lights it gently over my cheek. It is soft and cool like marble. Then he tips his head and smiles wider, his eyes crinkling up in barely contained excitement. He turns on his heel and heads out the door.

Without hesitation or doubt, I follow his thin white form as it takes turn after turn throughout the vast labyrinth of his den.

We enter a room, one at a time, where Kabuto waits patiently, nearly foaming at the mouth with giddy anticipation. It's no secret he is jealous of any attention Orochimaru shows to anyone else. But as I lay down on the cold metal slab, Kabuto's eyes catch mine and there is the shadow of something else. Something deeper and more honest, as if he is putting on some elaborate act. I would call it regret, but I just can't imagine why such a look would be on his face, so I dismiss it easily.

I close my eyes and breathe slowly, in and out, in and out, and can't find it in myself to be nervous. It just isn't there. Nothing is there but the promise to kill Uchiha Itachi.

Avenge.

Kill.

All this time, not a word has been spoken, as if we are all remaining silent in the wake of death. Which in a sense is true, though I doubt very highly that either Kabuto or Orochimaru cares. And it is an odd, sort of weightless feeling, to be an attendant at one's own funeral.

I don't notice much, paying no mind to the seals that are made, the equipment used, or the specific chakra flow that fills the room. I am no longer a part of this dark material world and I see no reason to pretend that I am.

And so I wait.

And wait.

And wait for what seems like eternity and wonder, oddly disappointed, if this is all that it is. It seems like too much time has passed for the exchange not to have happened and yet I feel not even the tickling of difference.

And just as I am thinking this, it is there. The presence of another in my mind. It is softly probing at first, as if dipping a toe into water to test the temperature. It feels crooked and yellow, like the skin of an unripe fruit or the color of sickness. It is not painful, just discomfiting; too much stuff in too small a space.

Then, it is as if I feel myself shrink, enveloped in this whirling inkiness that seeps over and under, frigid and ready to freeze over at any moment. There is no place it does not touch and I can feel its heaviness, its ill, but at the same time, I feel nothing at all. I try to open my eyes, move my hands, but I realize that I can't; I can't even remember how. I am nothing more than some strange consciousness floating around a body that is no longer mine. The other presence, thick and sour, has taken over, supplanting my mind with its limitless void. It caresses me as it pushes backward, at first gentle, and then harder, forcing me not just away, but out. The coolness of it numbs me; this subtle, tender violation trailing over my mind, far more intimate than any simple touch could ever be.

I can’t stop myself, the seduction is so complete, I fall into its invisible hands, falling backward down into emptiness, farther and farther, deeper and deeper down. With each passing second, I feel smaller, less connected to anything and it does not feel so bad. There will be no more remembering how, that at the end of all my years and sacrifices, I have to rely on someone else.

It's extremely tempting to let myself slip away completely, those fingers easing me closer to that end. I almost tumble entirely into it.

But no.

This is not right.

This was not our deal.

I will not let all my efforts mean nothing. I am an Uchiha; I have my pride.

I capture just enough of myself, that niggling of regret that reminds me this was all for a singular purpose.

To pay Itachi his due.

And so I begin desperately grappling for anything to keep me here. Damn that Orochimaru! He lied to me! He's trying to take over completely, giving me not even a pinch to grab onto. It should really come as no surprise, but I can't let it happen. If there's one thing I hate, it is being betrayed.
With calm certainty, I cast out the last vestiges of my consciousness to my hatred of Itachi, my sole purpose in life, but he slips though my thoughts like water. For a moment I stop, stunned. All this time and he is as elusive as ever, even in my own mind.

With growing panic, I reach for anything, anyone I can think of. My parents, my training, my vengeance. Everything I have both lost and fought for. But each one drops away carelessly into the darkness until my mind is wild, not making sense anymore.

I didn’t know it was possible to be this afraid.

To be so utterly maddened that at the end of my long journey, I get nothing. Nothing!

I have nothing left to hold onto, nothing to save me, everything I've known failing me one by one.

Half-familiar faces flash through the last weary remnants of my mind. Strong enemies, teachers, classmates, all melding into the blackness until they are gone. I can't remember who they are anymore, I can barely remember myself. All that remains is frustration. I curl into myself, wanting something, anything of my own. All I wanted was my justified revenge. What is so wrong with that? But now here I am, fading away, to discover that vengeance cannot even be kept. I am isolated and alone in these last moments and that is perhaps the most frightening thing I could imagine.

Only I never could have imagined it.

I never would have thought I cared.

Alone is what I have always been.

I feel whatever tiny bit of me remains begin to vanish, a sort of sorrowful melting away until I am by myself and no one to blame but myself. After all that I have done, I will not even get the chance that I gave so much up for to see my purpose fulfilled.

I just want something. Something that is mine, that no one, not even Orochimaru, can touch.

Just give me something.

Something.

And the last thing I see before I disappear completely is a grove of trees stretching upward to the sky and a confident, almost conspiratorial grin framed by whisker marks.

Chapter Text

When I "wake up", I am somewhat, and I would say reasonably, startled. I have no eyes to open, no hands to reach out, and yet in a way I could not possibly explain, I feel surrounded by warmth. Comfortable, safe, familiar.

Everything is hazy and I am not quite sure where I am, how or why. I remember Orochimaru luring me out of myself and I remember thinking that it was all over. But then there was something else, hidden deep in my unconsciousness, so far down that I did not know it was there. Without looking, I see brightness, without touching, I feel warmth. There is something special about this place, a treasure that I had to keep buried, even from myself.

It has somehow kept me from fading completely.

Groping blindly, I make my way upward, if that's what it is to be called, searching to reconnect. The bulk of my memories, as far as I can tell, are intact. I am still here, and it is still technically my body.  I should at least be able to have access to my senses as originally agreed.

But I don't know how to do this. This little space of warmth and light is pocketed somewhere in the middle of a vast darkness. All I can do is stretch out my consciousness, making it elastic and sensitive and wait. There has to be some clue, a trigger, something that will let me back in. Hopefully, I will know it when it comes.

After a second or a year, I'm not sure which, I get what I want.

A voice, muffled through the fog and vaguely familiar reaches me.

" . . .doing here? We've got to get out! Come on, before Orochimaru finds us!"

Latching to this noise, I follow it like a bread trail, causing it to grow louder and clearer. And then I hit something. I know it as what was once mine and so I wrap around it, feeding my self into its center. There is a taint of sickness and malice that infects it, and everything, like a virus. But I ignore it. I can do this and with nothing to lose, I fight my way in until the sound nearly pops with force, the connection made.

"Stop sitting around, Sasuke! Don't you get it? There's no time for this!"

And I know that voice. It is deeper than I am used to, but the telltale whine to it is unmistakable.

Naruto.

When did he get here?  Why?  He acts as if we are friends and I have just been waiting patiently for him to get me. He still hasn’t learned, even after all this time, that I'd rather be rid of him. He is far too thickheaded. And it doesn't matter anyway, now that Orochimaru is in control, though he hasn’t yet made a move.

And the stupid little dobe will just keeping pestering him until . . .

That bastard.

That is so like him.

I feel more than hear the wicked laugh that echoes through the hollow cavern of this brain.

Then light spills inward, flooding it in a weird sort of binocular way and I see him, all messy blond locks and anxious blue eyes and goofy worried look on his face. His gaze is turned to the door when Orochimaru opens my, no his, eyes. I can feel the cruel sneer that twists his lips. Then Naruto's expression shifts. His throat bobs nervously and he turns his head to face us.

He stops.

Everything stops.

The world has gone still and silent in that one dreadful moment and I can't quite place what I should think of it.

There is something oddly off in the way my mind is working.

Naruto's hands, which had been tugging at my, Orochimaru's, arms, quickly pull away and he takes a shaky step back, distress etching sharp lines into the normally rounded features of his face.

Orochimaru rises slowly and approaches what he considers prey, malevolence singing in his veins. He settles back on one foot and crosses his arms, putting a smirk, more mine than his, on his face.

"So sorry, my dear fox. But your Sasuke-kun is no longer with us."

I am torn between two things: the strange lurch I feel at the totally crestfallen face before me and the thrill when I realize that Orochimaru doesn't know I'm here.   How can I help the pride that swells, knowing that I, who was supposed to be nothing more than an empty vessel, have bested him?

But there is a bitter taste to it. Naruto looks like the world has turned in on itself, even though he knew this should have happened.  Three years are up. He's always been too emotional, a poor trait in a ninja. Not that it matters.

We aren't friends anymore.

I look at him and although we are nearly the same in height, he looks so small. He stares intently, his eyes boring into mine, Orochimaru's, for a very long time. And then his face transforms, an almost smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. He juts out his chin like a defiant child and his back becomes straighter, making him look surer and stronger, more like the posturing Naruto of Team Seven.

"I don't believe you," he says, with a slight shake to his voice. "Sasuke wouldn't just leave without finishing what he started. He'd never let that happen."

"Ku-ku-ku!" scoffs Orochimaru, enjoying his little game. "How little you know my boy. Sasuke-kun," The snake flexes his new fingers as if testing them, "Gave himself to me freely."

"No. He didn't." The grin has taken hold now, small but visible and I can sense how very much it annoys Orochimaru. Naruto seems neither deterred nor worried that he is facing one of the strongest ninja alive.

For a moment, there is silence, as Orochimaru seems to consider. But only a moment passes, for he is sure of himself. "Silly boy. You know nothing. Why would you even think such a thing?" He puts forth his best condescending lilt, but to me, on the inside, it seems a bit false.

"Because he is my best friend."

What nonsense.  Best friend. What we share is not what any normal person would call friendship. But then, he never was the sharpest knife in the drawer.

I really wish he would stop looking at me like that. Because it feels like he is looking not at Orochimaru, but through him and somehow straight to me.

The very idea is unnerving. Orochimaru doesn't know I'm still here. How in hell could Naruto?

"Best friend?" The snake retains his infamous arrogance. "That's your answer?" His laugh is a hiss with no mirth in it. "But it seems you are still very much attached to the previous owner of this body. And if that is how you feel . . ." He stops to think, snapping his head in that reptilian way of his. "Then perhaps I could help you."

Naruto lifts an eyebrow and sinks back, clumsily hitting the wall behind him. His chakra feels pointed and on edge, not letting down his guard despite the "friendly" repartee. There is a sort of careful optimism in his eyes, but the fox's chakra boils suspiciously just below the surface.

"How?" He whispers quietly. I can practically see the hope rising in his eyes.  He needs to believe in something.

It shouldn’t be me.

Orochimaru takes a step forward, then another, and another until he is looking down at Naruto from his slight height advantage, practically on top of him. There's a strange, sick twist to the snake's chakra and for second, everything goes dark. Then light hits me again and Naruto's face is suddenly brighter, warily hopeful, though his defensive stance doesn’t alter.

"Is that you Sasuke?"

Tentative and wary and not like Naruto at all. What is with this idiot?  There should be anger and yelling, but every time I've seen him since the Valley of the End, he's seemed sad and reserved. Wake up, stupid! This is Orochimaru you're talking to! I thought you were supposed to fight him, just like you fight every last single person you come across, enemy or not.

You shouldn’t be just standing there.

Your death serves no purpose now. There is no more mangekyou.

There is no reason to die.

"What do you think Naruto?" Orochimaru says in what sounds like my voice. "Are you so stupid you don' remember me?"

Naruto only blinks dumbly.

I thought he'd have something to show me, but apparently not

So I guess this is the end.

Before, I could have gained, power, strength, peace of mind.

But if Orochimaru kills him now, even using my body, all it will mean is that Naruto would be dead.

Naruto would be dead.

What’s the advantage in that?

"Sasuke?" Again and again, so idiotically annoying!

Not that I'd care if the dobe dies. Why should I? He just gets in the way. He's always gotten in the way . . .

I can almost feel the heart I no longer own begin to race. My hand, moved by Orochimaru, rises and brushes a whiskered cheek, clearly part of an act. So why the idiot still has that dreamy look on his face is anyone's guess. I can feel the edges of my mouth curl up into a smile, a blatantly false one hiding the malice beneath.

"Sasuke?" Naruto repeats, his throat sounds dry. "Is that you? Wha-what are you doing?"

And I realize, though I'm not sure how, what it was that Orochimaru did when the lights when out. His normally serpent eyes are masked to look like my black ones. A simple henge and this usuratonkachi falls for it?

Idiot.

What was once my hand slides down, smoothing over the tiny hairs in his skin, to reach Naruto's neck. Naruto closes his eyes, lips parted and takes a breath as his cheeks flush faintly pink.

Orochimaru smirks and cackles. "I knew it," he says. "So very obvious."

Knew what?

But the hand at Naruto's throat is soon joined by the other. It is a gentle movement at first, seductive and a lie; it is a touch I have grown to know well. Its true meaning is shown in the grisly smile that curls tight over Orochimaru's teeth. And yet Naruto simply stares, caught between disbelief and, I don't know. Stupidity?

His head leans back, exposing more of his throat and he opens and shut his mouth as if drowning.

Then the fingers begin to squeeze, still in that sweet way, but starting to cut off his airway, tiny bit by tiny bit. Just like with me, Orochimaru is coaxing him to die.

My mind feels fluttery and uneasy.

I can sense two chakras begin to war against each other inside Naruto, his own cool yellow and Kyuubi's hot red. Thus far, Naruto retains control, if just barely, keeping the fox back.

Why would he do that?

Naruto's face very slowly turns red, but I can still hear as his breath quietly passes through his teeth. But he isn’t fighting back.  Fight back, idiot!

Orochimaru's black mind holds no doubt and he exudes confidence as always. "I know what you want, little fox. How long have you waited?" He presses his thumb deeper into Naruto's soft throat, massaging the pulse. A strangled sort of whine escapes the blond's mouth. "You two are so much alike, with you affinity for pain." Orochimaru leans in, caressing his stale breath over Naruto's ear. "Which will happen first, I wonder? Death or . . .?"

Naruto slams his head back against the wall. "Stop it . . ."

But Orochimaru ignores him and just smiles. "So, tell me, Naruto-kun, how does it feel to be killed at the hands of the one you most wanted to save?"

Naruto gasps out, like it means something. "Sas . . . ke . . ." His fingers dig into the stone behind him and his blue eyes, tinged in red look up at me, weirdly unreadable.

Idiot. Don't just stand there. I thought you were going to be the greatest ninja, the next Hokage.

Is this all you’re made of?

Orochimaru tightens his hold, feeling sickly satisfied with Naruto's reaction and pushes forward so that Naruto's feet slip until he ends up on the floor. Hovering over him, the snake's mind roils and tumbles and bubbles over, savoring the nearness of death like a bloodthirsty beast. His skin is stretched taut over his bones, the tendons in his neck pulled into straight lines, his eyes, in elation, flickering between his and mine until, unable to hold the henge, settling on yellow.

"Why?" He asks, pretending nonchalance, now with his knees on either side of Naruto's legs. "Why won't you fight back? Let's hear you say it."

Exactly what I want to know. He’ll just die if he lets this continue.  Is he really that stupid?

"Because I don't want Sasuke to be unhappy anymore."

"That's not the real answer, now is it?" Orochimaru says smoothly, but the hands grasped around that purpling neck go inexplicably slack. I don't get it. Any of it. I don't understand how the dobe's simple mind is supposed to work. Orochimaru's grin falters and I feel his power fold inward.

'Meddlesome Brat.' The power of the force that hits me is enormous, hurtling me back into the darker depths of my mind. 'How are you still here? You should have been gone already. Well, no matter, you'll understand soon enough. This is my body now. And really, this will only make this that much sweeter. So just sit there like a good little boy and watch, hmm?'

My consciousness, such as it is, numbs with the impact of that unexpected, strange hit. Orochimaru has finally discovered me here and the calm hatred of him is overwhelming. But unlike before, he can't make me leave. His attention is too divided, or I'm now too rooted to be moved. Maybe neither, maybe both.

Honestly, it is irrelevant.

The pressure on Naruto's neck has become almost negligible now that Orochimaru's concentration has shifted, but the idiot makes no effort to escape.

"Sasuke was always so sad," he begins softly, his head tiled upward and his cheeks still blush. "And I didn't know and I couldn't do anything and all I want right now is not to see him in pain anymore. . ."

"There is no pain." retorts Orochimaru, regaining control and digging the bones of his fingers back into the soft flesh of Naruto's neck. "There is no more Sasuke."

But we both know this is a lie, and from the inside, I can hear it as he speaks. But what I really don't get is Naruto. There is nothing to be gained from this.

"I want to make it so Sasuke can be happy," Naruto continues determinedly. A tear slips free from his eye. "I thought that meant coming home. But that was selfish. Sasuke was never happy there . . ."

"Happy, hmm?" Orochimaru croons. His fingers are fixed on the throat, but not crushing. Instead, they knead up and down almost warmly, moving him closer to death only by pieces. "Why don't you tell him what you really want?"

Naruto lets out a choked little noise between gasps, his mouth baring his sharp white teeth. Even now, when I am beyond saving, when there is no damn point, you won't let me be. You never would.

Regardless of what I do, you just won't let me alone.

Why, Naruto? Why?

"Sasuke." He's becoming weaker again, the tears falling down his face. But still he won't let go.

Dizzy and disoriented by him, I'm so confused that my hands are shaking.

My hands are shaking.

And then I realize. Orochimaru didn’t slacken his hold, wasn't thrown by your statement. He never would’ve been.

I was.

I was the one who was surprised, who let go. In that instant, somehow my psyche took back control.

"If you want to help Sasuke-kun so much, then perhaps you could just die." Orochimaru's voice brushes over Naruto's face. "This is what he wanted." He leaves a hot wet path of air over whiskered cheeks. "And you too. How do you feel, dear little fox, with his hands on your throat?"

Naruto arches and the top of his head presses into the wall.

"Maybe I caused some of it," he chokes out, ignoring the snake. I sense a strange pooling of chakra somewhere within him. "But I didn’t mean to. I just didn't think. . ."

"He has very thin hands, wouldn't you say?" The snake whispers. "Creamy white, strong but smooth too. They can be gentle one moment and fatally violent the next. I know them well. How about you, Naruto-kun? You know them too, do you not? And the destruction they can wreak." He rubs the fingers meaningfully over Naruto's throat. "Beautiful, are they not? How often have you thought of them and what they could do?"

Naruto shakes his head as if to clear it and continues with his separate speech. "And maybe I was in the way, not helping, hurting him more, never actually looking at him, too concerned with my own problems. Maybe I took too long to really see Sasuke . . ." he ends in a half-strangled sob, struggling for air. "But maybe this way I can give him my power because I think he needs it. And because if it's Sasuke, if it's Sasuke and this will make him feel better . . ."

I watch as if my heart itself is shattering. Something catches and clicks into place inside of me.

No.

It won't make me feel better.

This is not Naruto, not the one I know. Belligerent and annoying and loud and always trying to beat me, never standing down to anyone. That's the Naruto I know.

This, this person is a stranger.

And I have to know.

I have to.

"Why?" My half-voice grounds out, as if fighting itself and I'm not quite sure who said it. Everything is becoming muddled up so I no longer know where I begin and Orochimaru ends.

The once brightness of Naruto's eyes begins to fade,

"Because Sasuke . . . is . . . precious . . . to me . . ." His voice, stolen of all its power, trails off and dies.

The word ebbs against my memory.

Precious?

My whole being collapses in on itself.

Precious?

Then, without warning and with explosive force, a flurry of images storm through my brain, one after the other. Of a time on a bridge, where without thought or doubt or hesitancy, I gave my life for this stupid idiot. Of another, when, even with the advantage of time and calculation, I had offered my life in exchange for others. Again Naruto, and now Sakura too. Then a memory of running hard to reach him, to take my vengeance, but also to rescue. Anxious and desperate and blind, searching for my friend. And again another, rain pelting down, leaning over an unconscious form with every opportunity in the world to take his life, to end it all. And instead making some lame excuse to justify sparing it. Even when I saw him at Orochimaru's former lair, offered up to me like a sacrifice, vulnerable and waiting, my sword drawn to the ready, I didn't kill him. I could have, I'm sure. But I took my time, allowing him to be saved, giving him the chance to defend himself. But like now, he did nothing on his own behalf. Bared and open and weakened, he simply let me try.

But I barely tried.

And I realize, with sudden pinpoint clarity, that I don't want him to die. Not like this. Not by my hands that aren't my hands, not when I have no say or power or anything like a helpless stander-by.

I just wanted him out of the way. I wanted him to stop monopolizing my thoughts, pushing out Itachi and revenge and replacing it all with his self. He doesn't have a right, he never did, the little idiot.

I understand why Orochimaru wanted to separate us.

Precious.

I see. As if when I tried to lash out and grab onto my hatred of Itachi only to have him slip away, he somehow took that emotion with him and cleared the clouds from my eyes. No, that's not exactly right. It is still there, it's just been tempered. Cooled and set aside, so that he could step in. My one true friend. Really my only friend, the only one who took the time to actually look at me, even if it was too late.

Or perhaps not.

Precious.

Back then, before all this, I would have given my life for you, over and over again, so that you can keep yours. I suppose it has taken me this long to figure out why.

Connection.

Friend.

Precious.

But I won't let you do it.

You are worth more than I am now.

The small swirl of energy is still present in Naruto somewhere, prepared to strike. If that is how it is to be, then that is what it will be. My fingers squeeze harder and Naruto's face is starting to turn purple, the tears flowing freely, the once present hope now barely more than a glimmer. I don't know what he's waiting for, but I don't want to wait anymore. Looking straight into his eyes, I try to make him understand.

You cannot die, Naruto.

My life for yours.

Over and over again.

That is what you do. For those important to you. Isn't that right, Naruto?

And now I understand.

I can do nothing else.

I gather my will and force it against the black shroud of Orochimaru that smothers me. I did it once by accident, but now when I really try, I will have to do it again. I will.

I am a ninja.

I am an Uchiha.

I am me.

There is a low growl that vibrates against the bones of this skull. The snake's attention is drawn inward once more, against me. I feel the power of his anger as it tunnels closer, an anger that I knew was there, but had not experienced firsthand before. It is daunting. Raging, unpredictable, and massive. But I am not afraid. It is impossible to fear for a life I no longer have. I push back.

All I am able to manage is a slight loosening of the fingers.

Let it be enough.

Naruto blinks and his glassy eyes begin to clear. His mouth gathers air in short pulls, barely sustaining his life but trying. Red chakra shadows his body like a ghost, humming with energy. Soon, he will no longer be able to contain the fox. But that is alright, there is nowhere else to go from here.

Orochimaru's voice is deep, his rage turning to pitch, thick and rolling and filling this emptiness. But that gentle, comfortable warmth continues to surround me, a protection that refuses to relent. And I understand.

It was hidden deep in my mind where I put all the things I dislike. Overshadowing Itachi and power and revenge and being shoved back as a nuisance, it’s now what saves me. It was always there, maybe even before we met.

So I hold onto that feeling and gather my strength to fight back even though there is no enemy to see, no kicks to land, no punches to throw. This is Orochimaru's mind and it holds nothing but darkness. It is a battle of will against will, one consciousness against another with the stronger in conviction to be victorious.

"There's no way you can win against me, little whining boy," Orochimaru forces the words through gritted teeth, struggling now on both fronts, inside and out, his attention split and therefore weakened.

'We'll see about that,' I counter. Taking advantage and with a sudden surge, I make my hands relax more around Naruto's neck. A tiny bit more color returns to his face. The red aura grows brighter and I know Kyuubi is now lending a hand in the protection of his container. Naruto's eyes are wide, staring into mine, his mind no doubt moving fast, trying to figure out this new turn of events.

I plead as though the yellow of these eyes could speak.

Naruto, you have to do it.  I can’t.

Understand.

There is no other way.

Then, he starts fighting back.

Lifting his hands, he grabs my wrists and attempts to pull them away, his chakra concentrated and his muscles pressing against his skin.

"What are you doing, Naruto-kun?" The snake slurs through his teeth, torn between which of us he should focus on. "I thought you wanted to be killed by your best friend."

"No. I don't. I don't want to die. I just want Sasuke back. That's it. That's all I want." His tone is breathy and fierce as he pulls in some of Kyuubi's strength to help push Orochimaru off with one move. "And you're not him!"

Orochimaru balks, his control slipping while we two attack him at once. There’s still some fight left in me. Like swimming upstream through rapids, I force my way into control and with a short burst, my hands are pulled free, making Naruto collapse into a heap of coughing, gasping ninja against the wall.

"See?" Naruto pants. "I told you."

Orochimaru snarls. "And that is all he has. He was a weak little boy who couldn't even make proper use of the gifts that were bestowed on him. Gifts that should have been mine." His sneer widens. "And soon, they will be. Your friend grows weaker by the second and soon will be gone altogether. Perhaps I was too hasty the first time, but I will make no such mistake twice."

"You're wrong." Naruto wearily lifts his head. "Sasuke is stronger than you. He can beat you. I know he can. And now, he should too."

Orochimaru glares down scathingly, but is unable to move while I trap him from within. I look at Naruto, his bright blue eyes bloodshot and teary, yet happy somehow, as if he has been presented with the world.  His neck is bruised with the thin ugly impression of finger and his lips are tinted blue from lack of oxygen, all by my hands.

My fault.

My fault.

I will not lose.

The power of Orochimaru's rage swells, bearing down on me on all sides, and it's all I can do to just hold him back. Every nerve in my body trembles, wavering between our controls, and the power of our clash drives my body stumbling backwards. A searing pain shoots down my back from where I've hit the solid bed frame behind me and I crumple to the floor.

"It's already too late." The creepy voice grinds through my teeth like glass. "This is where it ends, but at least you can end it together, hmm? Very considerate of me, I think, to grant you this. Be grateful."

"Sasuke!" I catch the desperation in Naruto's voice as he crawls over to me. Then there are hands cradling my cheeks, keeping me here, keeping me balanced. "Don't give in to him! I know you're stronger than that!"

He is so close to me, but I can't seem to reach him. I can barely hear him over the rumbling growl in this brain, barely stay conscious. But I'm not letting go, not now.

I have to do this.

Naruto quirks his head, rubbing his thumb absently over my cheek and gives me a lopsided smile. That angry chakra now crackles like electricity around his body, itching to strike out. "You have to win, teme. I haven't gotten the chance to beat you yet."

I try to laugh at him, but it gets stuck in my throat. Orochimaru is dragging his way back to the surface and I can actually feel myself changing, as if his image is trying to push itself through my skin. I raise my hand and clutch Naruto's arm, digging my nails into his flesh; he is my only hold to this world right now, all else has fallen away and failed me. I clench my jaw again as my body begins to convulse, that cackling ku-ku-ku confidently working its way back to the forefront. I'm getting weaker, I can feel it and I don't know how much longer I can last. Every muscle feels stretched and thin, pulled too far for too long and at its limits, ready to snap.

The air of the room is tinted bloody red from the aura that envelops Naruto, an unsettling sort of premonition.

I ease his hand from my face and cup it in mine, glancing quickly between the open palm and his red eyes.

You have to understand, Naruto. This is the only way to end this. I won't be able to hold it much longer.

The dobe looks down at his palm, brow furrowing, his lashes hiding his eyes from me. It takes a breathless moment before he makes a fist and shakes his head as he looks back up.

"No, Sasuke. I won't do it. I can't." His look never wavers, nor does his answer.

He won't listen to me. He never listens to me.

A drop of water escapes my eye and slips over my cheek. Stupid! It's the only way. The only way. This has to end otherwise I really may kill you.

It took almost all my strength just to move my hand.

Naruto quickly flips his strong, calloused hand and laces fingers with mine, gripping hard while the other hand lifts my chin. His warm chakra tingles over my skin. "You can do this, Sasuke. Don't prove me wrong, you selfish bastard." His words get tripped up with hiccups. "Besides, I've got a few tricks I've been dying to show you. And you're going to be so surprised! So don't disappoint me."

My head jerks as if no longer attached to my neck. I am losing control.

"Ku-ku-ku. Let's see them." Once again, Orochimaru's voice hisses through my lips.

Naruto leans forward and touches his forehead to mine, ignoring the snake. "Sasuke . . . " The bones of my fingers are on the verge of breaking.

I squeeze back, to let him know I'm still there. But I'm at the end of my rope. There's nothing more I can do. Stupid, stupid Naruto. Orochimaru has had plenty of experience, plenty of practice at this and I'm already weakened from the effort. It's too hard for me to reclaim an overcrowded body.

Just then, as if on some unheard cue, the door bursts open. Three Sound ninjas come barreling in from nowhere, stupid, low-class and weak, and before they even have the chance to speak, Naruto's, or rather Kyuubi's, chaotic energy leaps out and instantly dispatches them. He never even turns his head, the chakra acting on its own as the frustrated combination of both ninja and fox.

As Kyuubi has told me, he is not to be taken lightly.

What a pointless effort those fools made. It’s clear that besides a few select elite, Sound is filled with trifling ninja. I look to the three fallen. One twitches helplessly on the floor.

Sound must be teeming with Konoha shinobi by now.

A small, almost unnoticeable tic catches my attention, directed at the dead. Then Orochimaru launches himself at me with near abandon, as if he is suddenly desperate to end this quickly. I cast my gaze once more at the recently beaten ninjas. There's that little tug again, and like a light going off, I know what to do.

I know how to get rid of Orochimaru.

I can beat him and it is so ridiculously simple.

All this time, I was trying to push him back, into the recesses of my mind, but he can't go there. That's my place. I need to push him out, into something, but until just this moment, there was no place for him to go. Those idiots showed up rather conveniently. Almost too conveniently. And if not for Orochimaru's little lapse, I may not have realized it.

'Don't even think it, little boy.' Any trace of smoothness has evaporated. 'You are weak, never even knew how to use what you had. I taught you everything. Do you think that I don't know what you're thinking now? It will never work, Sasuke-kun. It's too late. I win.'

'No you haven't, not yet,' I reply uselessly. He already knows it.

I swallow hard and though shaking uncontrollably, my tendons ripping, I place both hands on the floor beside me and begin hauling myself over to that body. Each pull is like a stab to my chest. But there isn't much time, I've got to get there before he dies. My movement is slow and uneven, half or more of this body in Orochimaru's control, and it's not until I am yanked backwards that I remember that I am still holding Naruto's hand.

"Sasuke?" He lifts an eyebrow in question.

I muster what I have and look at him. Too difficult to speak, I put everything into that look, trying to make him understand.

He stares at me, his forehead crinkled curiously and I stare back.

Naruto.

You have to help me.

I hate it, but I can't do it alone.

My voice refuses to work. I can feel the shift in power, as mine becomes more brittle by the second.

"It's all over now." Rasps Orochimaru instead, his lip curling into that grin of his, sure of his victory.

But they are my eyes. Yellow they may be, but I point them meaningfully to the half-dead ninja on the floor and you have to understand, Naruto.

You have to.

Please.

Drawing on everything I have, one small word that means everything finds its way through my lips.

"Naruto."

And that's all he needs. The next moment he practically picks me up and begins the long trek across the small room. The roar that escapes from my mouth is no longer human, Orochimaru releasing the frustration of having a long sought for prized snatched from his grasp.

"This is not over!" He screams, his famous restraint breaking. "I will not be beaten by two little boys who don't even know how to use their own power!"

It's an odd, separate sort of feeling to have someone shouting with my voice and fighting with my body while Naruto is pulling me across the floor to meet a dead man. But the snake has been weakened too, despite what he says, and I manage to contain him, giving Naruto the chance he needs. Soon my hands, covered with Naruto's, are pressing down on the shallow rising and falling chest of the nearly dead man.

"You, dear Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru has that old silky tone, though now with a tinge of fear, "Are not strong enough. You don't even know how."

"You are, Sasuke." Naruto's voice is warm against my ear. He's behind me, holding my hands down, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder. "He's the weak one. You know that now, don't you? You don't have to know what you're doing. It's your body. Just take it back."

He's right, I know, but I can't even spare the energy to nod my head. Everything is focused on pushing Orochimaru out, into this much more receptive form. I concentrate all my power, my chakra, and my will, on ejecting the unwanted guest.

I lean my head down to make contact with the man's and find scant resistance there. I think about being myself again, being able to use my mouth and eyes and arms as I should. I think about Orochimaru simply gone, away. Nothing complicated. Only that I want to live.

That I don't want to let go of the hands holding mine.

My vision shrinks smaller and smaller until it turns black, and there is a moment of suspended animation, followed by such a jolt that I am thrown back, feeling the weight of Naruto cushioning my fall. Several minutes pass in a daze. Then I start to regain my senses, flexing the fingers that are once again mine and standing on the legs that finally follow my orders. There is soft shuffling and surge of chakra on the other side of the room that draws me.

I feel dizzy and lightheaded as I turn.

That nameless ninja is on his feet, tottering and gripping his ribs, looking like the walking dead he very nearly is. One eye is sealed shut and the whole left side of his face is burned black. Wobbly, angled legs try to support him and there is a constant flow of blood that seeps through his crossed arms and dribbles to the floor. Standing opposite this mangled corpse are multiple Narutos, each with a chakra of red-twisted yellow as the group calmly collects it all into a single hand. There is a whip of wind, gathered from the four corners of the room as the real Naruto raises this new strange jutsu. He looks different than I remember, more in control, but also a bit scary because he is so calm. There is no yelling as he always used to do, just acceptance that he will win. His eyes are dead cold, the bright blue dulled to steel flecked with red and there is something about that look that I just don't like.

Everything about him feels wrong.

Orochimaru only sneers, stinking of decay, and lets his confidence roll off him. "Think you've won?" He coughs up blood that then trickles over his lip. "You can't ever win. You will never be rid of me. You will always be haunted by his hands on you and remember that they were mine."

Naruto says nothing in response, just springs forward with the chakra like swirling death at the end of his arm and attacks. But Orochimaru doesn't look at him but rather at me, his eyes narrowed and his lip lifted on one side, knowing that this is it. He's gone through too much chakra and this little would-be ninja had none to give. All it will take is one.

Yet he wears the face of a victor.

And when Naruto hits Orochimaru, driving through his gut and cutting out his insides, I feel it. My stomach churns and retches and I double over, spilling a wave of crimson onto the floor, making a pool into which I fall, deep and rich and sticky and staining my hair. My head is spinning with the loss. Everything looks blunt and cloudy. Then suddenly Naruto's face enters my blurred vision, eyes back to that familiar cerulean hue and his mouth open wide as if screaming.

But all I hear is the buzzing of blood that sounds in my ears.

Then everything turns black.

::-------------------------------------:-------------------------------------::

Chapter Text

"That's it? You're going to tell me that that's all that happened?"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Are you lying?"

My eyes become slits, harsh and unblinking, and if I could, I'd launch forward and shut that loathsome mouth of his. But I can't.

"No." Not really.

He begins to pace across the room thoughtfully, twirling a kunai lazily between his fingers. "So you're telling me that you, you, defeated Orochimaru just by wanting to?"

There's a small heat that rises to my cheeks. If he won’t believe me, I can’t help that. "Essentially."

His feet stop their track in the floor, and with his index finger poised at the tip of his blade, he regards me. I can feel his scrutinizing gaze, his brain assessing the truth of what I've said, as his forehead creases in uncertainty.

That look is really grating on my nerves and I have nothing to lose anyway. I really want to attack; at least it would bring me some small satisfaction.  Besides, anything I do is unlikely to affect the outcome one way or the other.

For me, that is.

But for Naruto . . .

I hold my tongue, with great difficulty. The unspoken words taste bitter in my mouth.

Shinta walks forward then suddenly drops to a crouch before me, swinging that damn knife distractedly in his fingers.

"Did you ever even try to escape? Or did you just stay there, content as Orochimaru's little pet?"

My eyebrow twitches. I still don't like the insinuation he keeps trying to make. So subtle, this one, about as subtle as a ton of falling bricks in the middle of the wilderness. And that's a bit of a sore subject for me. Perhaps if I say nothing, the annoying little bug will leave me alone.

I glare.

He stares back.

My breath stalls angrily in my throat. Mouse's lip curls up in a sneer.

"You did, didn't you?"

I don't answer.

He leans in closer, his breath no better a smell than it has been any other day. Clearly he and hygiene have never been introduced.

"Didn't you?"

The stench wafts over me like fetid swamp fog.

"Didn't you?" He repeats yet again, that damn smirk on his face.

My eye starts in some crazy, uncontrolled tic, pulsing above my cheek. He just keeps staring at me. My jaw is tight, straining, my teeth grinding against one another.

"Yes."

His vapid smile deepens and he graciously pulls away. At least now I need not be subjected to that horrible chemical warfare otherwise known as his breath.

"And what happened?" The smirk plays over his lips as if he can't control it.

I grit my teeth, forcing the words through. "I failed."

"Oh?" His voice takes on the lilt of friendly interest as if we are discussing the weather rather than a life or death situation. "And you thought you would win?"

"Obviously." Idiot. I should have won. Honestly, I'm not quite sure why I didn't. "I should have been strong enough."

I hadn't really intended to say that out loud.

"But you weren't."

The truth cuts deep.

"I would’ve been,” I snap.  I would’ve, with just a little more time.

It burns, worse than the injuries he's given me, burns like a shame that will never heal. I thought I was strong enough. I really did. And I almost was.

Almost.

The story of my life. Told in an endless spiral, looping in on itself with no break and no escape. Almost there in time, almost the fastest, the strongest. Almost special.

Almost good enough to be called Itachi's brother.

Almost my father's son.

And it hurts. Always a day late and a jutsu short.

"But you lost." It is a statement not meant to be answered and Shinta doesn’t wait for one. Instead he rises to resume his mindless pacing. "And when was this?"

No point in hiding that, it's the reason I resigned myself to my fate, in a fashion. No time left and no more choice. "The day before the transfer."

My interrogator hums under his breath and the room goes silent. Nothing to be heard, not even the breathing of the other ninja hiding out in their darkened corners like sneaky, sniffing rats. The only noise in my ears is the sound of my heartbeat.

"So then how long was Orochimaru in control before . . ." His lip curves again as if he has hold of some tempting secret. "Uzumaki saved you?"

My shoulders tense instinctively and I wince at the pain.  The effects of Tsunade’s serum are starting to wear off, but I’m not done yet.  I need to set the record straight. I was not "saved". Uchiha Sasuke does not get "saved". "Helped", "aided", I suppose I could suffer that indignity for now. But "saved"?

Never.

My nerves are jagged at the thought of anyone ever believing such nonsense. But then again, there’s little point. My future has already been written. But maybe, maybe, it can still help Naruto. I need to balance out the scales. One last thing.

I swallow my pride and it is a poisoned pill that lodges deep in my throat.

"I don't know," I tell him, answering his question. Let them believe what they want. I really don't care.

"You don't know?" He stops, turns, and quirks an eyebrow. "You must have some idea. Minutes? Hours? Days, weeks?"

My jaw aches. "I don't know."

Mouse looks oddly like he's won something. He inclines his head and grins like the cat he is not. "Well, then. Let's go back, shall we? Why did you try to escape him? Or don't you know the answer to that either?"

My hand trembles at my side, tingling with the desire to rip out his filthy throat. A metallic cackle sounds deep within my brain.

//Why indeed?//

Shut up.

//Of course you are incapable of real change, aren't you?//

Shut up.

//Still the same soft pathetic fool.//

Shut. Up.

My breathing has grown labored, my hands clenched tight to restrain the urge to attack. A stream of sweat trickles over my face and drips off my skin to hit the floor as accusing drops of rain.

The color of my eyes begins to fluctuate, yellow to red, and the way I see the world changes. I can sense the heated mass of my chakra, even held back and stunted as it is and use all my willpower to keep it in check. Little Mouse's uneasiness is palpable in the air, thrumming in my veins and my black blood sings with his anxiety.

It is an effort to make my voice work. "There was nothing more he could teach me. Or would teach me." That’s enough for him to know.

Since that day I saw them again: Sakura and Naruto, something had begun to subtly change in me. Or return. Or whatever. I don't know. I knew I wanted to leave Orochimaru.   It just took me that long to make my move. I had to squeeze every last bit of knowledge I could out of the snake before I left, otherwise all the time would have been wasted.

And I can't have that.

No matter what lengths I had to go to, I would make sure my time and effort was not in vain.

Maybe I waited too long.

Maybe it was what Naruto said, always bothering me with "best friend this" and "best friend that".

Maybe it was the way Sakura looked at me like she didn't know quite who I was.

Maybe all these things.

Maybe none.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It's a puzzle I can't make work, the pieces all there but refusing to fit.  I close my eyes and concentrate, making the red settle and bring back the now natural yellow.

When I open them again, Shinta is staring at me with a look of awe and fear in his beady little eyes.

I smile at him.

His stance falters just a little.

Then he conspicuously clears his throat, looking nervously over to the shadowy scarred man lurking in the corner. Ibiki simply nods and Shinta comes to attention, his words stumbling as badly as his feet.

"S-so . . . " He stutters and I smirk. Scowling, he coughs again, shaking off his nerves. "OK. Then why don't you tell me what happened afterward. About the months you and Uzumaki disappeared?"

I blink at him. Well that's a whole other story, isn't it? But this is what I’ve been waiting for.  The opportunity to remind them that Naruto is Naruto and not the fox.

It will be tricky.

Most of that time is between Naruto and me. It concerns no one else. It just isn't their business.

But I open my mouth to speak and let the words do what they may.

::-----------------------::-------------------------------------::

It is twilight when I first rouse, or maybe dawn, the half-light of the beginning or end of day filtering through the trees, littering their dappled shadows across the grass. The air feels cool but dry, with a trace of warmth just behind it slowly fading away.

Twilight, I'd guess.

Slowly, I blink a few times to clear the gummy sleep from my eyes and see . . . gnarly bark. A tree. Yes, lovely.

I put my hand to my temple and press hard as if that will somehow alleviate the headache that is trying to shatter my skull into a million tiny pieces. But my brain will not cooperate, swelling and throbbing against its bone cage.

I hear myself groan, low and guttural and pained. The last thing I can remember is the gluey taste that is still in my mouth, a mix of bile and blood. My gut is the only thing that really hurts aside from my head and it feels old, tender, and bruised but not stinging. I run my fingers over the area, testing gently.

Definitely bruised.

And surprisingly enough, there's a gash there, now bandaged, that I can't recall getting.

I roll onto my back and the world seems to spin much too fast. Everything is blurry yet clear, sharp and cloudy and I feel like I can see way too much. As if my mind is playing tricks on me, filling in a landscape that isn't there.

It makes my head hurt so I close my eyes.

I don't even know where I am.

The last I remember was Orochimaru, no longer human and myself much the same. I remember agreeing to that stupid bargain like it was worth something.  And then Orochimaru defaulting on our deal.

I remember fighting because that is what I do.

And then at last, there is Naruto.

I bolt upright, my head reeling, twisting on my neck, the hammering of my brain making my teeth hurt. Pressing the palms of my hands to my eyes, I practice. Practice the way I have many times before, gathering the pain and locking it away deep inside myself where it can no longer affect me. Much in the same way I do with all other bothersome things.

I take a deep breath.

"Sasuke?"

I know that voice.

"You're up!" The tenor of it suddenly changes to become far too cheery and familiar, as if we have simply set up house in some little copse of trees, greeted by singing birds and friendly squirrels and everything is just perfect.

In other words, he is acting like the same idiot he has always been.

I can feel the pressure of Naruto's misplaced joy as a presence that weighs heavy in the air. I really don't want to deal with him. He'll whine and moan and ask for things that I'm not going to give him. That I can't. But he is there still, and he is a presence that cannot be ignored.

So I turn to him and open my eyes.

And see very quickly, in this order: Naruto with a huge grin and an armful of foraged vegetables. Naruto with a sad confused pout with an armful of vegetables. Naruto with an angry scowl dropping the vegetables.  A  fist hitting my face.

Some people may like being woken up with a dash of cold water and a kunai to their throat. I don't know who these people are, but despite opinion, I am certainly not one of them.

In fact, waking up this way tends to put me in a very foul mood.

So this is exactly what I'm in when Naruto does just that. And it is not helped when some of said water gets into my throat and chokes me. I turn my head to the side, feeling the sharp slice of metal through my skin. Blood seeps out the open wound, making the water pink, but it doesn't hurt.

Naruto jars my shoulder, shoving it to the ground. "Don't move!" he yells, banging my shoulder again.

The last bit of water escapes my mouth, finally allowing me to speak.

"I have to move if I'm choking."

"I don't care!" His voice is brittle and breaking. "Look at me."

But I don't. I don't follow his orders.

He grabs my chin, digging his fingers in unnecessarily and forces me to face him. He leans in close, threateningly, his breath ghosting over my skin. It is stale and sour from too long outdoor and, away from common luxuries like toothpaste.

"Give him back to me."

I’m staring at him but I can’t quite see clearly.  I feel like I’m looking through a fish-eye lens.

"Who?" I ask blandly, trying to get my bearings.

But his blue eyes tinge faintly purple, the pupils narrowing to strange cat-like slits. "You know who I'm talking about. You can't have him. He doesn't belong to you. Give him back."

Since I have no clue what the idiot’s talking about, I pull my lips into a thin line and simply stare. That's your answer, dobe.

There are sharp points of pain as his nails dig into the soft muscle just below my jaw line. He leans in even closer and I can see the throb of tenseness in his neck, smell the salty tang of his sweat. A droplet slides over his forehead, down the bridge of his nose and falls off the tip, landing on my cheek.

I ignore it.

He speaks.

"Sasuke. Return him to me."

A moment's pause.

A moment more.

Then I pull my arms together, gather chakra to them and push, hard, against Naruto's chest, trying to force him off with no effect. Heat swells in my veins, boiling over my blood and setting every nerve in my body on point. My bones themselves burn with fury.

How dare he.

How dare he!

I try to pool my chakra again, but like my eyes, it's all screwed up and it refuses to work right. All I manage is to barely jostle Naruto, but he doesn’t budge.

I grip my hands instead, take hold of his jacket and pull him closer so he can feel the justified rage coursing off me. I push the words carefully through my gritted teeth.

"I don't belong to anyone."

Then through sheer force of will, I gather my strength and sharply push him off so he stumbles, falling down on his backside. Still scowling, but confused now too, he gets to his feet. I can see that familiar fight in his eyes. That idiot determination. He hasn't grown at all, still the same immature kid he was back in the valley of the end.

He wants this fight as much as I do.

And I'm not in the mood to wait, despite my uncooperative body.

I reach back behind my shoulder to grab my sword only to find empty air. It better not have been left behind, that sword is an extension of me. And if Naruto has confiscated it, I'm damn well getting it back if I have to cut his arm off to do so.

Regardless, right now I'm weaponless and my chakra still fells skewed and cracked. Trying it now, like forcing a jutsu when I don't have the energy, could do more harm than good.

And now I have to find Itachi.

Guess it's taijutsu, then.

Well, maybe that's not so bad.

I race forward and swing my leg around, catching Naruto hard in the ribs. He falls back, but quickly scrambles to his feet, retaining his balance without skipping a beat. He rockets his fist forward, getting me in the jaw somehow. He tries to repeat it, but this time I block, and he tries again which I also block, but when he sweeps his leg across my feet, I misjudge the distance.

I begin tumbling back, but instead of leaving this as a mistake, I use it to my advantage. Swiftly, I grab his shoulders and use the momentum to yank him forward as I raise my knee, driving into his gut. He chokes loudly and I repeat it, harder this time, then immediately pull my arm back and punch him squarely in the eye with all my anger, all my pent-up frustration, all that wasted time that meant nothing.

He should never have come, interfering where he wasn’t wanted, trying to own me like I’m an object.

He catches me in the eye and I throw a punch as well, but sloppily, somehow making contact.

I didn't want his help. I wanted to do things on my own, achieve my revenge on my own.

I swing again but wildly and he blocks it, whirling his leg around and hitting my side, right at the tender, unhealed wound. My hastily bandaged injury splits open and blood begins to seep out and over the cloth.

I don't care.

I'm too frustrated, beyond all imagining, that my head hurts, twisted and knotted and I hate him.

He should have discarded those bonds like I did.

I should've killed him back then. Back when I had the chance.

All he is is in the way.

Always in the way.

I should have killed him.

My fighting has become erratic; I can't seem to concentrate. Too easily, Naruto blocks everything I throw at him. Too stupidly, he does nothing more now than defend his self, not even giving me one punch back. His eyes keep flitting confusedly over my face and our surroundings as if he can't quite recall how he got here.

I just need him gone. Relying on him with Orochimaru was rash and stupid and over. Because I don't need him. I don't care if he lives or dies.

I don't need anyone who just looks at me as something to own.

I've had enough of that.

I wish he'd just go away.

Because I do not want him here.

All I need is my revenge; my hatred of Itachi. Nothing else matters. My life has always had but one sole singular purpose.

He's staring almost worriedly now, though I can barely tell. My vision is stretched and blurry and my body too tired from fighting for so many years.

My next punch is weak and lamely misses as my vision spins out of control. I practically fall right into him and he couldn't get a better chance than this, offered up and gift-wrapped, but he doesn't take it. In lieu of attacking, making the final strike, he grabs my wrist and throws me against the nearest tree, my skull bouncing painfully off the trunk.

It shouldn't hurt this much, I shouldn't feel so damn tired, and now blood is pouring out my stomach at a much more rapid rate.

I inhale deeply, slowly, calming my breath and remember my training. This is nothing. Nothing at all.  Soon, I no longer notice it. My vision runs clear, though still oddly fish-eyed, but as long as I can see, I can fight.

But all that is there is Naruto, looming over me like a badly dressed, spiky-haired specter, his eyes in a strange angry puzzlement.

I scowl at him, this perpetual idiot before me.

"Let go."

But he doesn’t, he just blinks a few times, stumbling over his thoughts before speaking.

"But-but you can't be." He purses his lips a moment. "Sasuke isn't like this. He's quiet and calm and creepy, not all wild and out-of-control . . .”

I'll kill him for that.

"Who are you?" Naruto asks, sounding as if he's genuinely curious.

I refuse to answer such an inane question. I wrap my fingers around his forearms and crush down. "Let go."

But the moron clearly isn't listening. He's deep in thought, a rare and scary notion; I can practically see the smoke rising from his head.

I could take him easily, even bleeding and chakra-impaired as I am, but I don't.

And why is that?

"Wait," he says suddenly. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait." He raises his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks and runs his thumbs over the sensitive skin below my eyes. He's staring intently, unnervingly, and the blue of his irises seem much stronger than they ever have before. "Maybe you are Sasuke. From a long time ago. The whiny, irritating, girly-brat that became my closest friend." His eyebrows pull together. "I thought he was gone."

I dig my nails into his arms, breaking the skin and thrash out my leg, catching him sharply in the shin. My anger boils inside me, one I have known for so many years, yet somehow different, blacker, sharper. Whiny? Irritating? Girly? I ought to snap his scrawny, stupid, pointless little neck.

"How dare you, usuratonkachi!"

I clip him again in the shin and he jerks slightly but otherwise pays it no mind. No, the idiot has that dumb grin on his face, dopey and too big, the one I shouldn’t remember.

And he doesn't pull away. Instead he leans in closer, his skin brushing along mine, closer and closer, until his arms wrap around me and his face leans into my neck. And for some reason, I can't seem to move.

"Sasuke."

The warmth of his whisper floats over my throat right near my curse seal. The mark seems to flare for an instant but that can't be right. Then I feel a warm breathy softness pressed against my skin for a brief moment, but it is gone so quickly  I’m not sure it was real.  Naruto tenses a second and I feel the sharp, sudden intake of his breath. But in the next moment, he leans in and squeezes tighter.

I just stand there.

Almost reluctantly he pulls away and looks at me, that idiot smile on his face and his eyes are wet with unshed tears. What a baby.

I glare at him.

He takes a deep breath and lowers his head. I still simply stand there, idiot like him and I don't know why.

"Sasuke!" He shouts suddenly and steps dangerously near. He sneaks his hand under the scant protection of my clothing, his fingers spread out intrusively over the bloodied bandage on my abdomen. "Your wound is open."

And something inside me snaps. Before he has time to react, I lock onto his wrist and twist his arm as violently as I can. I hear the nasty series of breaks, the brutal tearing of flesh, but no other noise from Naruto. It’s as if he has been struck too stunned to speak. He backs up awkwardly, looking at me with a hurt expression while his blood and mine stains the hand hanging limply off the end of his broken arm. The pain in his eyes isn’t physical, but something too hard for me to comprehend.  Kyuubi's red chakra begins to sneak over his injured arm.

Well that's what he gets for touching me. I told him to let go.  Idiot. It's his fault. His fault. I turn from him and fall to my knees, clutching my bleeding stomach and breathing heavily. My heart is racing and it shouldn't be. I should have all this under control, nothing should affect me anymore.

I lean my head on the ground and wonder why it is this should make any difference.

And why it is I can't seem to leave.

::-----------------------------------::----------------------------------------::

The hands that move up my arm bring me back to the present time. I continue to stare straight ahead and she finally eases her hands off me.

"You've been gone a long time," Sakura says, turning to dig through her medical bag. She takes a quick, sly look at me through the wisps of her flyaway pink hair. "What were you thinking about?"

I glare blankly at her for a second then go back to stare at the filthy, damaged wall. "Nothing."

She lets out a short laugh and sighs. "An awful lot of emotions you showed over nothing." She says it with a small tease to her voice, but when I look at her, her smile is sad but not mocking. With a shrug she explains. "You're not as good at hiding your feelings as you used to be."

My eyes shrink until they are almost closed, and my mouth pulls into a flat, thin line.

She smiles again and flicks the end of the hypodermic needle she's just pulled from her bag.  A small bit of clear liquid sprays through the air. "This might hurt a little bit."

Placing the point at my upper arm, she breaks the skin easily and pushes the medicine in without any further warning. It feels strangely thick and heavy as it fills my veins. I raise an eyebrow to her.

Sakura only shrugs again and shoves the emptied needle into a small plastic bag before putting the whole thing gingerly into her sack. The medicine is still traveling down my arm; I can sense it, like a snake winding its way through my system.

Disturbing.

"What was that?" I ask, feigning disinterest.

The zip of Sakura closing her bag echoes through the barren room.

"Something very similar to what Tsunade-sama has been sneaking into your food." Sakura raises her eyebrows to me when I give her no acknowledgement. "I assumed you noticed."

I nod as my eyes droop slightly and the thickness of the medicine in my blood begins to feel less like an intrusion and more like a warm, comforting blanket. So I was correct and it was the Hokage that slipped that stuff to me before. But similar? More like ten times stronger.

Then Sakura smiles, rubs my arm affectionately and pulls down the sleeve to cover the recent needle-mark. I have the sensation of swaying, but I'm not moving, at least I don't think so. My mouth is parted slightly as I take in long, deep, satisfying breaths. I don't feel tired exactly, just immeasurably, enticingly, pleasantly relaxed.

"Well . . ." Sakura says and I can only guess she's trying to fill the obvious silence. Taking the bag in her hand, she starts to stand up when there is a short, sudden knock at the door.

We both turn our heads, Sakura quickly, me a bit more leisurely.

"Visitor!" A low voice barks, sounding annoyed for having to speak even this one short word.

There is a loud, reverberating clank as the locks are undone and the door swings open with a squeaky whine. Sakura scrambles to her feet, bag forgotten. I remain seated, hazy, and simply turn my head.

I don’t know what to feel.

Naruto.

He looks okay. Pretty good actually. It would make me smile if I were the sort of person that did such things, but I'm not, so instead I do nothing.

"Naruto." Sakura stops short after taking a small step forward. Naruto leans back as the man with him mumbles something into his ear that I can't make out. The blond head bobs once and then he enters the room. The heavy door slams shut loudly behind him, final and judgmental and ominous.

Sakura fidgets nervously with her hands as she watches him, but he only smiles at her, that kind open smile that is his and his alone.

"Hi," he says.

"Hello," she answers.

Scintillating. Is it me or there is a sudden awkward tension in the air?

The two of them stare at each other a while, a little shifty and nervous, Sakura more so than Naruto. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she clears her throat and moves closer, raising her other hand to Naruto's cheek. Her lips turn up, but it doesn't look especially happy.

"You look a lot better," she says.

Naruto breaks into that wide trademark grin of his and replies. "Of course I am! I'm the great Uzumaki Naruto! Nothing can stop me."

Sakura indulges him with a soft laugh.

I'd roll my eyes if that were the sort of thing I do.

But it's not.

So I don't.

The girl drops her hand to her side and backs up just a bit. Something, some kind of secret exchange is going on between them through the silence, purposely leaving me out. A part of me becomes sharp as I watch them. The two of them, together, the exact thing Naruto always wanted and there they are and he's so happy with her and why am I here again?

Right, that debt.

The jerk's not even looking this way. Technically speaking, this is sort of my room. Any “visitors" should be for me. And yet here I am, sitting like superfluous furniture, not being visited. Not that I care, because I don’t. Those days after Orochimaru and before now were a fleeting dream and nothing more. And now things are back to how they’re supposed to be.

So “visit" all you want.

I don't care.

I don't.

There's a faint cackling in the back of my brain, apparently amused.

You can shut up any time now, thank you very much. I'm not really interested in anything you have to say.

I stare quite determinedly at the dirty wall in front of me.

"Well, I'm glad you finally made it." It's Sakura's voice, somewhere behind me. "But, if you don’t mind my asking, how?” She sounds honestly perplexed.

Naruto laughs. It sounds flat, forced, disingenuous. "I have my ways. Nothing can hold me back when I make my mind to have something. You know that."

"Yeah." Her answer rings of regret.

The two of them move closer together.

"I, uh, I just gave him a shot. A pretty strong one. I didn't know you were coming, otherwise . . ." The unfinished sentence hangs in the air. "So, he's, well, let's say he might be a little off."

Then there’s silence and I don't know what's happening but I don't turn because it is absolutely no concern of mine.

//Jealous?//

I frown. I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.

The wall is in fact rather interesting. There are an impressive number of cracks in it. One would think they'd repair it; otherwise a prisoner passing through might find a weak spot and manage escape. They would be ninja, after all, if they were jailed here and ninja are very resource . . .

"Sasuke."

It is Naruto speaking gently and I can't be sure whether it is a question or a statement, but either way, my immediate response is to turn around. Damn it! I shouldn’t be answering a summons like some dog.  Whatever’s going on back there has zero to do with me anyway.

When I look over, I see him. Standing almost expectantly, his hands are fisted nervously at his sides, his smile gentle and his eyes this soft, airy blue. Sakura stands by the door, bag in hand, looking back over her shoulder. But she is nothing more than a blur in the background. Hardly noticed. Perhaps not fair, but true. All I really see is him. Of course, he is the brightest thing in the room, this vibrant garish splash of color that draws all attention, so it really is unavoidable.

For some reason, I get to my feet, not slow, not fast, just a regular pace and approach him. It’s as if I'm drawn to him, his warm, healing chakra pulling me closer. It seems wrong, unnatural and yet absolutely right.

Maybe it's because I'm nearing the end and appearances no longer matter.

//Appearances always matter.//

No, that isn't it. It's something different, something other. That damned bond I didn't want and couldn't break.

Before I know it, I'm standing right before him, he with the silly foolish look on his face. Yet he appears tense, more anxious than I've seen him in recent days and I can't help but wonder why.

//I thought you didn't care.//

I say nothing, but feel my head fall forward, setting my forehead on his shoulder and I somehow feel better than before. His presence is like a balm to my senses.

That or it's the medication.

Definitely the medication.

"Sasuke." He whispers my name into my hair so that only I hear it and places his hands lightly on my arms.

There's a sharp, harsh knock somewhere outside myself, breaking into my consciousness, but I remain still.

"Guard!" Sakura barks sharply.

Again there is the metallic clang of a lock and the door opens. Without a word to either of us, Sakura leaves and the door slams hollowly behind her, leaving Naruto and I alone.

A few minutes pass as we stand there and soon everything begins taking its toll.  My knees become weak and sag and my body starts leaning in closer to him.

"Whoa there," he says, his words making my hair flutter. His hands on my arms tighten near the shoulders and Sakura's

medicine sure must be working because it doesn't hurt. Naruto slowly guides us over to the sad little mattress and drops us onto it with an audible thump.

My head is still on his shoulder and I turn it slightly so I can see his hands resting conspicuously in his lap.

"How have they been treating you?" He asks after a minute in a low voice.

"Like a revered elder." I deadpan. He apparently hasn't gotten over his flair for inquiring after the obvious.

"Did," he starts, then stops, seeming to consider. "Did you just make a joke?"

"It's called being sar-cas-tic." Must I really explain these things?

His body shakes slightly with a small laugh and he shakes his head. "You made a joke," he says decidedly.

Wrong, idiot. But I don't feel like correcting him.

My nose is tucked up to his neck and I can smell the heat and sweat that mists off his skin.

"You've been training," I say.

"I have." Is his atypically short answer. Then he takes my hand, the one with the bandaged fingers, into his. Cupping it firmly between his two, he whispers "I'll show you," as if telling me a secret that no one could overhear.

He takes a deep breath and I feel the spike of chakra, a little of his, but mostly Kyuubi's, flowing through his arms and down to his fingers. I roll my head so that my ear is on his shoulder and watch the red glow engulf our joined hands. It's a hot, almost burning sensation then I feel a strange sort of shifting in my bones. It tingles but doesn’t hurt much and the pain is gone nearly as soon as it started. Naruto lets go and carefully unwraps the bandages, discarding them. Hesitantly, I flex my fingers and they work perfectly, just like before, as if they were never broken. There isn't even any swelling.

"Neat trick, huh?" He states a little proudly.

I stop moving my fingers and crease my brow in vexation.

"When did you learn that?" I ask.

Naruto stops and his chin brushes my hair as he turns his head to look at me. I can tell he's pouting. "Aw, c'mon. You can't be mad. This could be useful. Whenever you or I or Sakura or anybody gets hurt, I can fix it. It's not that hard. I just concentrate and channel Kyuubi's chakra outward."

"Naruto . . ." I warn.

"I mean, I can't heal everything. At least not yet. Just little things like fingers and toes and stuff. But eventually I will and it could be really helpful. It's not dangerous or anything. I told you. I've been working at it, you know, keeping Kyuubi under control and all. You're not mad, are you? Why would you be mad?"

"Hn." I don't like the fox. And I don't trust him. I don't like Naruto depending on him so much; it's not safe. I can feel his aura, prowling behind Naruto's, biding his time, waiting for his chance.

He reminds me of things I'd rather not remember.

"Stop worrying." Naruto says, a little sadly. "I haven't had any problems since the hospital. Well, okay, no big ones, anyway," he reluctantly admits. "I've been working with Tsunade-baa-chan and Ero-sennin and they've been talking with the elders. Well, more like shouting. But anyway, things look all right. And they're all looking for another sealing jutsu to work with mine. Kinda like yours only better. But I'd still be able to use him when necessary and . . . "

"And it worked so well for me." I cut in.

"Yeah, well," Naruto grumbles. "That was your fault."

My back tenses defensively.

I know that.

I don't need any reminders. And there's nothing to be done about it now. The past is the past and I wouldn't change it anyway.

I start to pull away, but Naruto grips my newly healed hand and jerks me back. I fall to my old position more easily than I would like and did I mention how groggy this medication makes me?

"Don't, Sasuke. Don't pull away. Just don't . . ." he sighs heavily. "Don't be mad, OK?" When I don't respond, he pulls on my hand and repeats. "OK?"

"Hn." It's too much effort to argue right now. But I also notice he never said he didn't mean it.

He sighs once more and my head rises and falls with the movement. My hand is still in his and he absently begins rubbing his thumbs into my palm. It is gentle and firm and I'm not sure he knows he's doing it, but it's actually kind of nice. His hands are awfully warm and the pressure to my palm relaxes me more. I feel over-sensitized, maybe from the medication, and can feel in his hands the calluses and the texture of his fingerprints. His hands are much bigger than mine.  Fatter, anyway. Darker and a little dirty, as apparently he didn't bother to clean up before he came here.

I hum quietly in contentment, which I didn’t mean to do, but of course he notices.

He stops for a second, tense and stunned, but soon returns to that same slow, languidly pleasant motion. I don't know why it feels so nice or why I'm letting him touch me like this. Or better yet, how he can even stomach to touch these horribly ugly, cruel hands after they have hurt him time and time again.

I close my eyes.

He leans in a little closer and utters, low and raspy, "You like that, do you?"

"Hn."

I can feel his smile when he turns to stare at his hands as they move up to my fingers.

"You're so quiet and compliant, Sasuke," he says in an ambiguous tone. "I should get Sakura to put you on drugs more often."

He chuckles, but I ignore him in the way I am accustomed. He continues to massage my hand and it is so soothing that I adjust my position to get more comfortable. I tilt my head into the crook of his neck. The pressure on my hand becomes deeper, slower, even as his breathing grows harsh. The roughness of his tough skin rubs into mine and I can't say I don't like it.

Then suddenly he stops and we both stay motionless for a while until he draws a deep breath and holds it. Finally, he lets it out in a long shuddering pass. The vein in his neck throbs against my cheek at a heightened pace and without warning he lets out a little whine, throws my hand away from him, pushes me off, and jumps to his feet.

I almost fall flat on my face. I open my eyes and glower fiercely at him as he nervously drills a two-meter gully into the floor. He comes to an abrupt halt and turns to me, flexing his hands over and over at his sides.

"Sasuke," he starts anxiously. "We need to talk."

I arch an eyebrow.

Taking this as his cue, he goes on. "I, uh, I." He looks straight at me then his eyes twitch oddly and shift to the side. He swallows noisily and then faces me, wearing a completely different expression. "I want you to tell them."

That's not what he was going to say.

I continue to stare.

"Don't give me a hard time about this, Sasuke," He pauses thoughtfully before going on. "Tell them, okay? Just tell them everything. I don't," his nervous hands tighten into fists, gripping the cuffs of his jacket. "I don't want you to be hurt anymore."

I narrow my eyes. "Not your decision."

He pouts. "You're being stupid."

"I'm being stupid?"

"Yeah." His voice grows stronger with supposed conviction. "Yeah. Why are you doing this?  To prove what? That you can? It's stupid. Just stupid."

I continue to glare at him, maybe it is a little of that, but not all.  And he should know that.

Naruto stands rather stupidly himself in the middle of the room, stock-still, hands at his sides like a soldier. "You don't need to do this," he says adamantly. "I don't need your help. I'll be fine on my own."

"Who ever said I'm helping you?"

"Well, you are, aren't you?" He almost sounds disappointed.

I don't answer.

He sighs. "Just tell them. Sasuke, they'll just keep hurting you until you do.  I can take care of myself." The blue of his eyes is intense, glowing and boring into my skull and I wish he'd stop with his hero complex already. "I’m going to tell them,” he states plainly.  “I’m going to protect you.”

I jump to my feet too quickly and pretend my head isn't spinning and that I didn’t just almost lose my balance. "Protect me? Protect me? I don't need your damn protection!"

"Yes you do." His mouth turns down dramatically. "And if you'd stop being such an idiot, you'd see that!"

"Who are you calling an idiot, idiot?"

"Look in a mirror!”

The palms of my hands burn from the scraping of my nails.  If this is what he came for, he shouldn’t have wasted his time.

I won’t bargain for a life I don't have. I drop my voice to a threatening whisper.

"I'll do what I want."

Naruto huffs like a frustrated little kid who can't get his way. "Why do you have to fight me on everything?"

I say nothing, only scowl.

"Why are you such a bastard, Sasuke?" He sounds caught between resignation and frustration. He kicks his foot childishly at some collected dirt on the ground.

His eyes take on a darker hue, deeper and sinister and they become small in a way that looks wrong on his otherwise rounded face.

"Maybe I should have left you there, with him, if you loved being there so much."

That's a low blow, crueler perhaps than he even realizes, but I won't show it. I run my tongue along the roof of my mouth to choke back the bitterness.

"Maybe you should have."

He looks straight at me, his emotions fluctuating wildly. The blue of his eyes intensifies, purples, and grows large.

"Why do I even bother?" He grows louder, letting his aggravation, his rage take over. "Why should I? You're not worth it, you know. You're not. I really don't know why I should bother. I don't know why I should fight, should almost die. You don't even care, do you? You never did, only about yourself and your vengeance. You’re just doing this so you don't have to feel guilty anymore. Well, guess what? Feel guilty. You are."  It's better his way.  Better for him to hate me, even though it hurts in a way I can't describe. "This is all for your own selfish reasons. You want to pretend you're doing the right thing, like some sort of sacrifice. But doing the right thing for the wrong reasons make the whole thing worthless. You're just scared of living after what you’ve done." He takes a deep breath. "I don't know why I should care. I don't know why I should waste my time! Go ahead and throw your life away! It makes no difference to me! I only spent three years of my life getting strong enough to get you back, that's all. I only almost cost me my life. And Sakura's and Kakashi's and Yamato's and a lot of people and you're so not worth it, Sasuke. You're not. I don't know why I have to go through all this. I don't know why I-"

He stops suddenly, slamming his jaw shut with a clack of his teeth. His eyebrows twitch anxiously as if he surprised himself at this outburst. Then slowly, carefully, his eyes cloud over, becoming like steel, flat and emotionless.

"I hate you."

It hurts more than I expected.

Like my heart can't beat, my lungs can't breathe and every one of my bones is crumbling in on itself. My blood has all dried up and everything is stretched too far, too tight, but won't break and give me release.

I bite the back of my tongue briefly to remind myself who I am.

And fall back to the reply I have repeated many times before. "I don't feel anything for you."

He seems to swallow a violent hiccup and nods. "I know."

Does he know it's a lie?

Disdain, hate, friendship, anger, jealousy, awe. There's not a time when I don't feel something for Naruto. It was too much, in the way, and I had to get away.

I should never have felt anything.

Only Naruto doesn't allow for that. And that's why, that's why . . .

"I'll do what I want," I repeat. I’ll be the one making the choices. "You can't stop me."

He sniffles, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "I hate you. Why now? Of all times, of all chances, after everything! Why now?"

And now he's blubbering, like I'm supposed to feel bad.

"Enough.  Just go.” This is getting tiresome. I'm beginning to wish he'd never come. "Stop bothering.  None. of. it. makes. a. difference."

He takes an awkward step back as if I were physically threatening him, which oddly enough, I'm not.

"What do you mean?"

He can't honestly not know. I scoff derisively. "You're still so naïve, Naruto."

"Don't talk like that." Once again, a little sad, a little disappointed.

"I'll talk however I want." I curl my lip. "Besides, I thought you hated me." I'm impressed how flatly I got that out.

"Stop talking like that!" His yell bounces in the air and hits me in the back of the head.

"Why are you such an idiot?"

My skull throbs as it bangs the wall Naruto has thrown me against. His hands grip the neck of my shirt, his elbows pushing on my bruised ribs. The day is still in effect so all I feel is pressure with just the pinch of pain.  I look at Naruto as he frowns at me, his eyes tinted red, his teeth pointed and his whisker marks carving deep into his face.

It always ends up like this.

Fighting.

At each other's throats.

Did I honestly think things could ever be different?

No, maybe not.

"I want you to live, okay?" his voice flutters hot over my face. ""What's so wrong with that? I want you to live and stay here. In Konoha. With . . . us."

"You’re delusional."

"I'm not! Stop trying to act so damn noble." He then hurls a particularly sharp barb. "It doesn't suit you."

I suddenly feel completely calm, collected and in control. "Get off."

"Not until you promise me!" He's being irrational.

"I'm not promising anything."

Naruto pulls back his arm, the anger swelling off him and I simply close my eyes, waiting for the fist to make contact. The air whistles beside me as the force of his power is drawn in one, concentrated straight line. The wall by my head cracks, a long jagged line extending from ceiling to floor, the aftershocks resounding in my spine. When I open my eyes, Naruto's head is bowed, his body shaking from rage and the scent of blood from his hand fills my nostrils.

His shoulders heave from the effort and I watch them go up and down, up and down.

The heat of his rage warms me.

The repetitive sound of metal on metal, of jingles and clanks and rusty hinges permeates the room, an offset to Naruto's heavy breathing. The door opens and a man I have not seen before enters.

I straighten up, ready to go to whatever "new" questions they have in mind, but what happens, rather truthfully, surprises me.

"Uzumaki Naruto, it is time."

My eyes widen and flash back to him, but all that I see are the yellow and golden strands of his hair. Then his hand drops and he raises his head. He looks so much older, like the past few seconds have somehow aged him several years.

A pathetic "wha . . . “ is the only thing I'm able to force through my mouth.

He gives me a crooked smile and looks nothing at all like the way he should. "You're right, Sasuke." It's creepy, how quiet he sounds. "None of it does make a difference. I thought I told you." Slowly, he walks over and stands beside his armed escort, his back to me. "You didn't honestly think I'd get out of this unscathed, did you? Now who's being naïve?"

I stare mutely as the man takes Naruto by the elbow and leads him away. I get one last, mournful look from Naruto before the door closes with a dull clang that resounds in the shadows of my mind.

//Ah, useless as always.//

Is this it? Will that be the last I ever see of him and like every other damn time we waste it fighting?

Was all the time spent in that room for nothing?

Suddenly finding my muscles and bones again, I rush the door, throwing the full of my weight against it. It does little to nothing to move the cold hard barrier. Sakura’s drugs are strong; I don’t feel a thing.

It isn't fair.

Pounding my fists on the door, I scream through it as best I can. "Naruto! Hey, dobe! Don't do anything stupid! Do you hear me? Naruto!"

The sound of my own voice slaps me in the face in the empty room, but he makes no answer.  I don’t know if he can even hear me.

I can't let it be for nothing.

This isn’t the way the story is supposed to go.

I resume slamming my fists against the door in a furious onslaught as the feeling that this is my fault; that I should have watched what I said better, sinks like a stone into the pit of my stomach. They're going after him because of me.

"Guard! Guard! Let me out! I have something to say! Are you listening? Let me out!"

I slam the flat of my hand on the door and the pain is starting to filter through now, but I don't care. "Hey, you! I said I have something to say!"

But the bastards don't answer, don't move, don't do anything; just stand there like maddening silent stone statues.

I continue to shout until my voice is hoarse, continue to punch and kick and throw my shoulder against the door until I'm bruised and bleeding and all of Naruto and Sakura's work is undone. I continue for what feels like, and likely is, hours, but no one cares. I continue until all my energy is spent, until I can no longer move or breathe and I'm so tired that all I can do is slide to my knees, my head leaning on the door, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides.

I stare at the sliver of floor in the crack beneath the door as it slowly tinges with the red of my dripping blood.

My gasping breath smacks me in the face in a staccato of dusty foul accusation.

Why. Why do we always end up fighting every single time?

Chapter Text

::------------------------------------------:-----------------------------::

To say the atmosphere is tense would be a major understatement. Oppressive with the heaviness of betrayal and distrust after the sourness of lost friendship would be more accurate.

Quite accurate, I think, as root through Naruto’s things in search of some spare bandages with which to rebind my wound. Once I find it, I notice that many of the things in Naruto’s bag are from Sound.  Reluctantly, I have to admit I'm impressed that he had both the foresight and the presence of mind to grab it on the mad dash out.

I sneak a glance in Naruto's direction and see him standing against another tree, his arm hanging twisted and dead at his side, a red glow winding around it. His eyes are unwavering, hurt and angry, his lips turned down in a frown.

He's looking straight at me.

I go back to the bag and replace what is left once I have managed to re-bandage my wound. I can feel Naruto's eyes on me, two accusatory pinpoints driving into my back.

Taking the straps of the pack in my hand and watch a line of ants march their way up and down the tree in never-ending succession.

Heaving a sigh, bag still in hand, I push myself to my feet and head towards him.

I do not feel guilty.

His expression and stance do not alter as I approach. Methodically, I rest the pack down at my feet and look at his arm. It looks like a spiral break, shattered in several places and despite the efforts of Kyuubi, it has got to hurt. I reach towards him and he reflexively bats at me using his good hand with a noticeable flinch and an intake of air. He sniffles slightly and resets his immobile gaze. I glare at him and try again, this time taking hold of the hand that attacks me and squeezing a silent warning that he is not to do that again. Finally, he relents and looks away. Going back to what I had started, I skim my hands over the breaks, assessing the damage as best I can and carefully ease the bones back to their proper places with what cursory knowledge I have. I know from experience how much this hurts and I'm not surprised to see a few pained tears escape his eyes.  Upon being set, I brace the bones with a branch, slowly winding the remaining bandage around both flesh and wood to keep it stable. It’s the best I can do, but he ahs the fox.

Lightly, I run two of my fingers along the inside of his arm, feel the heated pulse of healing until I brush the palm of his hand, his fingers twitching in response as they should. That is good, at least. When I look up, his cheeks are flushed red and his eyes give a twitch as he looks at me. Most likely, he has a fever. That, and he's trying desperately not to show how much pain he's in.

"Thanks," he mumbles quietly.

"Hn." I turn away. Rather than deal with that, I just say the first thing that comes to mind. "I was surprised you thought of grabbing all that stuff."

For a long time, silence is my only response.

"Oh, heh." Finally, he lets out a pitiful laugh. "That wasn't me. Kabuto gave it to me."

My head spins around to look at him. "Kabuto?"

Naruto nods silently. "Yeah, he sort of threw it at me right after he told me which way to get out." He shrugs and lowers his head. "Though I didn't think I'd need it so soon."

He rubs his hand absently over the brace, immediately dragging my thoughts back.

The arm looks at me angrily, its skin and muscle encased in a red glow.

I hadn’t meant to do that; it was instinct.  But I don’t say that.  "That's what you get for coming after me."

The blush on his face changes to the deep sharpness of rage and I expect him to yell and scream and charge, but what he says is oddly quite calm.

"You asked me to follow you."

I look at him, my forehead crinkled in irritation; trying to figure out what in the world he could possibly be talking about. "No I did not."

"Yes you did."

Let us catalogue all the things I've ever said to him. "I did not."

"Yes you did."

Has he always been this infuriating? Wait, it's Naruto, so yes. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you . . ."

"Listen!" I'm shouting by now, knowing it's stupid, having yet another fight with him, but I can't seem to veer off our inevitable course. "I never said anything like that. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I wanted nothing to do with you!"

"But that's not what you said," he persists, annoyingly defiant.

"I never once told you to follow me."

"You did!"

"When then?" Exasperated, I challenge him to abandon his made-up fairy tale and join the rest of us in reality. "Tell me when I ever said that!"

"When you called me your closest friend!"

The air goes quiet but for the wind and the humming of insects, and I frown at his determined face, a little dumbstruck. That doesn’t translate.

"You can't . . . You can't say something like that and just leave." Naruto picks up his abandoned thread, his face all pink as thin rivulets of sweat slide down his temples. He begins walking towards me. "You can't expect me not to follow. Not after everything we'd been through, not after everything you said. You can't possibly know how much that meant to me. How much it still does. Sasuke, you, you're the one I . . ." His voice softens as he reaches a hand to my face. But suddenly changing his mind, he makes a fist and drags it across his eyes. "You're my best friend."

He lets out a strangled sigh.

"Not anymore," I reply coolly.

Naruto drops his hand and raises his head and agrees with me, deadly serious. "No, not anymore."

'Good then,' I think. 'So he understands.’  But I don’t feel better for it.  I shake it off.  I long ago rid myself of useless bonds and especially useless heart.

Yet it still stings.

I nod at him and turn away, finalizing the deal.  I return to where I was looking for my missing sword.  The sound of crunching leaves and cracking twigs comes closer, but I don't stop what I'm doing.  From the corner of my eye, I see Naruto sift through a flowering bush and come up with my blade.  Holding still, I watch as he unhurriedly walks over and offers it to me. I eye him warily then lean back on my heels and take it, sliding it smoothly into the back of my belt. Once it is seated proper and final, Naruto speaks.

"Stay."

It is spoken so quietly I pretend I don’t hear it.

"At least until your wound heals." I don't think I've heard his voice so muted or soft before. "Please. Stay."

For a moment, I sneak a glance to where he stands, but my head is lowered and all I see are his dirt stained feet. Part of me, the part I hate most of all, wants to stay. It tugs and ties me so securely to him that I don't even want to understand it. I turn my head away with a grunt.

"Why should I?" I ask. "Why should I even trust you after this morning?"

"There was a reason for that." Defensive.

"Hn." I stand up, still not looking at him and take a step. A hand grabs firmly onto my arm and forces me around. I scowl at Naruto as his lips turn down into a disappointed pout. After a second, he lets go, digs through his leg pouch and pulls out a shuriken. Looking it over, he then rubs the flat side along the front of his shirt before shoving it into my face.

"What?" I ask blandly.

He jerks his chin at me. "Look."

I eye him skeptically, but take that shuriken anyway and do as he says. It takes a full minute for me to even realize that I'm looking at a reflection of myself. Because they are his eyes looking back at me, putrid and pale yellow with a line cutting them down the middle. I can't seem to help it when my hand begins to shake.

//Ku-ku-ku. I told you you wouldn't be rid of me so easily.//

It is the first time I hear his voice.

::------------------------------------------------:-----------------------------------------------------::

Of course I leave that last little bit out when I tell my story to Mouse. Better that no one knows Orochimaru is still with me.  They’d never believe me then.  Even so,  Shinta is looking at me with a bend to his lip and a strange glint in his eye.

"So you and Uzumaki are close, then?"

"Something like that." I say.

He is an idiot.

"Hmm." He looks me over with a calculating eye. "Though I suppose it doesn't come as much of a surprise, considering how you acted when you returned to Konoha."

I just sneer.

Shinta backs up and shifts from foot to foot, his simple gaze fixed on me. Folding his arms across his chest, he then says "So continue. After that what happened?"

"Nothing of interest." I say, bored with it all.

But even as I say this, those days return to my mind like the playing of a filmstrip. Nothing of interest to the Mouse, but maybe some to me.

I remember how I would lay down to sleep alone, only to find Naruto curled beside me, his broken arm stuck straight out at his side and when confronted, he'd reply simply that he was "cold." Even after he'd healed, I'd still wake up with him beside me and several fights later, I finally gave up and let him have his stupid way.

I remember his nearness.

And I remember how he'd run off and catch fish and trap rabbits and come back and cook them over the fire and smile happily as if we were on a camping trip rather than a battle for survival. And, as we traveled, the closer we got to Konoha, the more anxious he became, tossing furtive glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking and twining his fingers nervously in his pockets.

I recall how easily he made the decision to follow when I told him I wouldn't return to Konoha; that I was going after Itachi.

And how I didn't mind when he did.

Or how it felt nice, despite everything, not to be alone.

::---------------------------------------:---------------------------------------::

We’re resting within a cave, deep in the heart of the country with a fire dancing merrily in the dark enclosed space. A layer of leaves at the cave opening captures all the heat of the flame inside, making it almost toasty and a welcome change to the usual outdoor coldness. I stare at the fire as Naruto stares at me, oddly blank, oddly quiet.

He sighs and chucks a pebble over the ground in my direction.

"Well," he says. "I guess I'll get some sleep." He regards me a while before flopping down, rolling to his side and curling into a ball. "Goodnight."

"Hn." I never really look directly at him.

The fire crackles happily and I become lost in the flickering lights before me, seeing the cold red of Itachi's eyes, the yellow of Orochimaru's, and the deep crimson of spilt blood.  I see my past and my short future, all the same color.

Naruto shifts noisily on the other side of the cave. "It's warm, tonight, isn't it?" He sounds almost disappointed.

"Hn." I kick up the fire with a stick then toss the brand inside.

Slowly, I lie down on my back, look up to the dark featureless ceiling and close my eyes.

Several minutes later I open them, scowling. I adjust my position and try again. Nothing. I roll to one side and look out meaninglessly into the orange-colored darkness. I close my eyes and frown. Still nothing. I switch to my other side and see him: curled up, eyes closed, but clearly about as asleep as I am.

After a long time, I let out a long, deep, disgusted sigh and get up.

A moment later, I stand over him and gaze down, uncomfortable and annoyed.

It shouldn't make a difference.

But I find myself sitting by his curved back, aggravated with myself. Finally, I settle down, once again looking at the blank ceiling that I can barely see in the firelight. Beside me, Naruto rolls over to face me, still in a fetal position, his hands nestled by his mouth, now with the hint of a smile. Turning my face upward, I close my eyes, feeling Naruto's presence beside me as he scoots closer. Hesitantly, he reaches over his hand, lighting it on my shoulder, barely there. My back stiffens, holding my breath and willing myself under control. But it’s not so difficult after all. He’s not Orochimaru.   I take a breath and carefully allow myself to relax.  Naruto dares to move closer until I can feel the length of his body resting alongside mine.

I don’t push him away.

He’s very warm.

He stinks of grass, dirt and sweat.

It doesn't take long for me to fall asleep.  And while it doesn't feel precisely right, it doesn't feel wrong either.

It was the first time we even tried to sleep apart in some weeks.

How quickly it had become habit.

::------------------------------------:----------------------------------------------::

I blink back into the proper world.

Shinta is gazing at me with amused curiosity, his chin in his hand.

"Well," he slurs slyly.

A blush rushes to my cheeks but I swiftly quell it. I don’t know how much of that I said out loud, but as long as I didn’t mention Orochimaru, I can handle it.  I look over to Ibiki, who hides his emotions well, but I can tell his interest has been peaked by the one eyebrow raised up.

I whip my head around to glare at Mouse.

"I have nothing more to say."

His lips curve into a feigned smile. "But Sasuke-kun, we're just getting to the good part."

He's trying to annoy me and doing an exemplary job of it.  But he won’t taunt me into saying anything more.

Shinta stares at me, pretending to smile, but the medication has worn off and there will be no more mistakes. I try to get up, but the chain chokes and snags, so I'm relegated to just glaring.

"We're done here." I state.

His smile twitches and he no longer looks amused when he walks forward. He looks like he wants to press further, but a gesture from Ibiki stops him short. For a few minutes, I am subjected to that scarred stony stare from the man in the corner.

I say nothing.

Not too much longer and I am released, only to be moved back to my one room cell to fester in my self-wrought humiliation.

They try again, to get me to talk about it, and again, but I have refused every time and all they can do about it is break a few more bones.

I don't even feel it anymore.

And if I am to die anyway, I will do so with my secrets intact.

------

I know now what I must do.

The fact is, they will not, they cannot, just let Naruto go without any sort of answers, not after what raged through Konoha that day. He’ll be subjected to their questioning.  But I can ease that burden, or so I think. It will not take much.

I do not believe they really want to hurt him.

Naruto has the protection of Tsunade and Jiraiya and much of this village, despite these recent events. I know this because I know Naruto and the power he has over people to make people want to help him, in conflict with their better judgment.

I am caught in the same trap.

But I am on my own. Solitary. An avenger. Even those few who might be willing to be on my side have no great influence.

That is how it should be; the path I carved out for myself is still intact.

And it is all forfeit.

Calmly, I get to my feet, still facing that solid, immovable barrier. Hours have passed by as I knelt in the mire of my memory; hours of silent contemplation. The sores on my hand no longer burn from exposure to air; they have cooled and begin to scab over.

"I want to talk to Ibiki."

Him and no one else. Because he is quiet and stern and proper and I know that although he can, he will not resort to torture so quickly. He will listen first.

In a weird way, I trust him.

There is no response from the other side of the door.

"I'm ready to talk."

I speak steadily, a flat and reserved stream without even the trace of madness I had before.

There is silence for a long time, but I do not press. I can be patient too. I waited eight years for vengeance. I can wait a few minutes for a decision.

As the coolness of night seeps through the cracks in the wall, I finally get my answer.

"Very well." The metal unlocks loudly as I take a step back to allow the guard entrance. He opens the door to reveal himself and I see that it is that straw-haired ANBU, his mask fully in place, and it is somehow fitting.

"Come along." His voice is soft but deep, with a slight lisp, sounding too gentle for his occupation.

We walk in silence, he properly behind me, ready to strike should I make a false move. But I have no intention of doing that and we arrive at the designated room without incident. With a curt nod, the blonde ninja leaves me to myself.

The room is different than the others, sparsely set with a table and chairs and an old light that swings precariously on its chain.

It is so quiet that I can hear my organs at work inside me.

I spend the time thinking about what I’ll say and what he’ll ask. Today was a ploy to get me to talk, and so I will, though the answers may not be to their liking.

But they are the ones they will get because they are the only ones I can give.

I am nothing more and nothing less than Uchiha Sasuke.

----

\+\I can feel him, sneaking around like a thief in the sleepiness of my mind.

His presence invades me, slithers through me and is yet undefined as a solidified form.

He is everywhere.

Like water seeping in to the crags of a mountain, he cannot be caught and cannot be followed. He wants me to be like him, having not yet relinquished the idea of making me his.

His influence creeps into the cracks of my dreams and memories. Into the list of lapses I would like to rewrite.

But I have power now and strength I did not before.

Things would be different now.

I wouldn’t now be stuck in the middle of nowhere, chasing down the devil that once was called my brother, with a second devil skulking in the depths of my mind like a disease.

I hate him.

It's all his fault.

I could've had a life, a childhood, and a future, if not for him. He has robbed me of all I had and left nothing.

Itachi.

How I hate him.

For ignoring me and defending me. For being's father's favorite and the pride of the Uchiha. I hate him for being what I most wanted to be.

I hate him for murdering them all.

And for sparing me.

His image appears before me, his expression that same uncaring, bored one he has always borne. Looking through me as though I am nothing more than a fogged up window.

How I hate him.

//Then let us do something about it.//

Orochimaru's malevolence filters through me and for once, I agree. I am tired of waiting. Itachi should die, that murdering, manipulative bastard who took everything from me right down to my hopes and happiness. Took everything including himself.

My rage is like a blaze, swirling around my body in flickering flames, feeding on my hatred, on Orochimaru's sick ambition, growing with each passing moment in which Itachi ignores me.

He has never even considered me worthy of his contempt. All my boyhood striving to be him, yearning for his attention and I was never more than a pebble in his shoe.

My chakra strikes, binding him, constricting around his body and still he does not acknowledge it.

Pay attention to me!

//Squeeze tighter, my pet. Until his eyes pop out from their sockets and his ears bleed. Make him pay attention.//

I am no one's pet, least of all Orochimaru's, but I follow anyway. But those sharingan eyes are still not on me. There is a fire there, a need and a desire that glows through his apathy.

But not at me.

Even as I wring the life from him, his interest is never towards me. To him I am an annoyance, easily dismissed.

Oh, how I hate him.

How I hate him.

My chakra pulls tighter.

"Sasuke." The words emit from his closed mouth but do not sound like him.

A trick. A trick of the mangekyou I have not before encountered.

But I am an Uchiha too. I will not be fooled.

"Sas . . . ke." The voice is not right, but it is one I know. A familiar voice, a familiar face, but they do not match.

//Kill him.//

"Sasuke, please." It no longer comes from Itachi's direction, but from outside, muffled and far away. "Wake up."\+\

The body wrapped in my dark chakra changes, shifts and I am no longer looking at Itachi, but Naruto, his fingers digging into the flesh of two large snakes coiling about him.

And then I realize that my eyes are open, that what I'm looking at is the real world. That I am killing not Itachi, but Naruto.

He looks at me, his eyes shaking, his hands grappling at the serpent winding around him.

Without a thought, I dispel the creatures into smoke, frantically scrambling away until my back hits solid rock. My hands are trembling, my breath coming in short ragged gasps, and my heart beating so hard and fast it feels like it may rip apart.

Naruto bends over the floor choking.

I had lost control completely. That was me and not me and it didn't even take any conscious action to summon those snakes.

That was Orochimaru.

A cold sweat breaks out over my skin as I pull my knees up to my chest.

"Sasuke." Naruto crawls towards me covered in dirt and sweat, cautious as one would approach a dangerous animal.

"Get away from me!" I shout, letting my anger veil my mounting fear.

"No." He edges closer until he is directly beside me.

He raises a shaking hand and places it lightly over the center of my chest. I can feel the pulse of his blood in the pulse of my heart.

"Calm down." He soothes, though his words quaver. "It'll be all right. Just calm down."

"Don't touch me!" I snap my head around and look at him for the first time. I lower my voice dangerously. "Or I'll kill you."

He looks straight into my eyes with tenderness and smiles. His hand has stilled. "If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already."

But I can yet feel that churning rage that hides in the back of my mind. It could resurge at any second. At any second, he could break loose and kill whoever lies in his path.

I can't stop my racing heart.

Naruto's hand slowly glides upward, over my shoulder to the back of my neck. He tilts my head forward so that our foreheads meet and closes his eyes, his lashes light against his tanned skin.

My breathing is heavy.

"There's no reason to be afraid," he says, gently rubbing his thumb at the base of my ear. "Because I'm not."

His other hand creeps up to cover the one that trembles in the dirt at my side.

"I know who you are, Sasuke."

He opens his eyes and looks at me, too close to make anything out. There is a strange sort of fluttering curve to his lip.

"You're my closest friend."

My heart continues to pound in my chest.

"And I trust you."

-----

He regards me with an eye that has seen much and knows more, but looks at me with such blankness that I’m not sure he’s figured me out yet.

He leans back, his hands sliding off the table and landing on the arms of his chair. There is a creak as he rocks onto the back legs, the wood groaning under his weight.

"So, Uchiha-san," Ibiki says, the first to address me with any sort of respect. "What is it you had to tell me?"

As if I'd make such an amateur mistake.

"Ask me what it is you'd like to know."

His lip curls over his teeth, his doughy, marred face rolling into an unnatural position. "You already know what it is we want to know, so how about we just stop with the games. Then we can get this over with and we can all have a nice day, hm?"

Nice day? Yeah, right. "No, I don't know what you want from me." I reply coolly.

Ibiki cracks his neck to the right before crossing his arms over his chest. "Look. I really don't care about you and Uzumaki. You two can do whatever you want in unseen places."

My irritation pushes against the walls of my throat.

"I'm going to guess that whatever happened in those intervening months was nothing more than a boring journey." He leans farther back and the chair squeaks in protest. "I don't even care how it is you tracked Uchiha Itachi or the rest of the Akatsuki. I'm sure plenty of people do and will be sure to ask about it all later, but I don’t. All I want to know is what happened when you found them."

I keep my eyes focused on him, as I debate what to answer. Simplest is best I think.

"I killed them."

Ibiki taps a finger on his arm. "All by yourself?"

Of course not. But he already knows that. "No."

"Then who helped you?"

"Helped" is not really the appropriate word, but I’m not going to challenge it. "Naruto was there, "I say evasively. "And I believe a cell of ninja from Konoha were as well."

"You 'believe'?" His face remains impassive.

"I never actually saw them." True. And of course the crux of the problem. Naruto and I were the only ones present when the bottom fell out.

The room falls even quieter and Ibiki sets his chair back on all four legs with a clap and rests the flat of his forearms on the table.

I wonder which question he'll ask first. Despite my best efforts, the waiting makes my nerves rattle and it’s an effort to remain outwardly calm.

The air pulls out of the room in quick, heated rush.

"You saw what happened to Konoha?" He asks in a far too casual manner.

Of course I did, everybody did. I scowl at him, grinding the back of my teeth and silently nod. Ibiki stalls a few moments more before going on.

"When did Uzumaki change?"

At least this is a relatively safe question.

"I'm not sure the time," I hedge. "But not too many Akatsuki were left by then."

His gaze is cold and black. "Who was left then?"

I swallow, sliding the tip of my tongue up the back of my canine tooth and feeling the sharpness. "Uchiha Itachi."

"And no one else." It is more a statement.

"The others were occupied."

"Ah, yes. Of course." He settles back into the chair as if this is a revelation he needs time to absorb. "Occupied with . . . Uzumaki?"

My jaw cracks. "Yes."

His fingers now flat on the table begin to tap out a rhythm like a secret code. "Where precisely were you at this point?'

"Standing across from Itachi." This is true.

"Just standing?"

"Yes." This is not precisely true. Neither was the part earlier where I said most of the Akatsuki were gone. Most of them were alive and well and with us in that room. I don't know why I said that.

//You're a compulsive liar?//

Be quiet.

"And the others were with Uzumaki?"

"Yes."

"About how many would you say?"

I think for a moment, trying not to trip over my hastily drawn up lie. "Two."

"And what were they doing?"

"Trying to seal the Nine-Tails into some statue." I press the palms of my hands to the chair as discreetly as I can manage. This part is also true. With certain conditions, but close enough.

"So then Uzumaki was fighting this?"

"He tried." My nerves pulse with anxiety. We're getting too close.

"But he failed."

"Yes." Not exactly.

"How hard was he fighting?" His fingers have stilled, making the quiet that much more pronounced.

"What kind of question is that?" There's a trembling inside my chest telling me with panicky conviction.  They know. I take a deep breath. "I can't tell you what someone else is feeling or thinking. He was surrounded, injured, tied up, and exhausted. But yeah, he seemed to me to be fighting as hard as he could. Harder than maybe he should have been able." Okay, half-truth. I'm hoping he can't tell.

"And you were . . . just standing there?"

"Yes." Basically.

"You did nothing to help your friend?"

"No." Because all I ever do is hurt him. I can't seem to do anything else. They pitted one of us against the other like carefully played pawns. Most of my chakra had been expended just getting to that point, as had Naruto's. We had managed to take a few Akatsuki down, but in the end it hadn't been enough.

There was nothing to spare for Itachi.

Not then.

Ibiki switches to tapping his foot now, an annoying makeshift timekeeper.

"And Uzumaki fought up until the end?"

"Yes." Outright lie. But I can’t tell the truth. I just pray he doesn't notice.

"How long did it take?" A rather morbid, unimportant question, I'd say.

"I don't know. A while." True and untrue. It felt to me like excruciating days, but it was likely only a couple minutes.

Because I know precisely when Kyuubi came unsealed.

Right after Itachi used tsukiyomi on me.

That's when Naruto let them.

The little idiot.

"And then what happened?" he asks.

I can't hide the slight sneer to my lips, remembering how they got just what they deserved. "Something the Akatsuki wasn't planning on. The fox got free and then tried to finish what he started." My sneer falters as I remember what else that means.

Naruto . . .

"And you," Ibiki stops to consider. "Didn't stop him?"

As if I could. Regardless of what connection may once have existed between the Nine-Tails and the Uchiha clan, the fox is not one to be easily controlled and by then I could barely stand. Besides, I was still facing the one thing I had fought and bled over for eight years.

Itachi.

I wasn't about to just walk away. Not for anybody.

"No." I say simply.

"So then he just killed all the Akatsuki?" He steeples his fingers in front of his face thoughtfully.

"No," I answer, a little more harshly than I'd intended. "I did."

"Hmm." Ibiki scrutinizes me with the narrow dark eyes that peak up and over his hands. After a moment, those hands drop to the table with a flat thud. "And do you know how many Konoha shinobi it took, how many civilians died to prevent the Nine-tails from, as you say, 'finishing what he started'?"

Bastard. I know what he's thinking.

But it's not Naruto's fault.  It was Kyuubi, though Naruto feels responsible anyway.  In a way, he is.

They’ll hate him for it.

It was all so unnecessary.  The fox wasn’t needed.

"Anyhow," I go on, unable to stop myself. "If you'll recall, Konoha didn't stop him. I did."

The scarred man somehow manages to look amused. "Oh really? And how did you do that?"

In my rush to defend myself, alleviate the shame of not being able to prevent it, I had forgotten that they actually didn't know that little fact.

"You see," Ibiki continues, not waiting for an answer. "The last we saw, the Nine-tailed fox had ravaged a quarter of the village before suddenly stopping and taking off."

“Naruto was the one who stopped it.”  I add, feeling a bit defensive on both our behalves.

"Was it?"

My foot grinds into the floor. "Of course it was. Naruto never wanted to attack anything. He loves Konoha." Spitefully, I mutter, "Though I can't imagine why."

"And you don't?"

"What? Love Konoha?" Ibiki nods gravely in response. "Why should I?"

He stops for a minute, rocking on the non-rocking chair, staring at me and thinking. Finally he stops, his expression unwavering and speaks. "You do realize that you threw away all the good will this village had for you when you abandoned it, don't you?"

"Tch!" I scoff. "Their 'good will' was based solely in their selfish reasons." They want control of the Uchiha kekkai genkai and by then I was their only choice. Most, I'd wager, don't even know my first name, that I am the coveted "last of the Uchiha". "Uchiha". That's the only part they care about. Not me.

To them, there is no "Sasuke".

It has always been that way.

Where were they when I was seven years old and needed them?

Nowhere.

But it only made things easier.  It gave me no ties to Konoha because it had none to me.

"Then what made him lose control?" Interrupts Ibiki.

No ties until now, that is.

"I don't know, maybe the group of psychopaths trying to rip the fox out of him?" I snap sarcastically.

The man looks at me with small eyes, flat and hard. "He said it was because they were torturing you."

He says it with such matter-of-factness that it takes a moment for it to register in my head.

That idiot.

That complete, huge, self-sacrificing idiot.

"He's lying."

"Oh? And why would he do that?"

Because he's brainless? "I don't know."

The man nods, absentmindedly, apparently accepting this anti-explanation. "What finally stopped him?"

My nails scrape along the arm of the chair as I try to phrase it right, without sounding utterly ridiculous. But there’s no way out of it. "He recognized me."

My sight clouds over as those few fateful minutes play back over in my mind, the image of Kyuubi laying waste to the land his vessel loved until suddenly, inexplicably, turning into the darkness.

I had thought maybe he was seeking me while I called to him in the woods with my hands stained in blood.

And, as before, I just stood there.

Only this time I stood in the way.

Kyuubi came bounding through the forest straight toward me, the trees splintering between his toes, the grass catching ablaze where he touched ground. But as he drew closer, he did exactly as I thought he would.

He stopped.

Kyuubi, Naruto, recognized me and stopped, a second before crushing me.

And we faced each, man and beast and man, reading down into the true depths of each other.

It didn't take long for the fiery shadow to melt into a small, pathetic, huddled blond form at my feet.

It was days later that I finally was forced to take him to Konoha.

I didn't want to, for both our sakes.

But I had no other choice.

He was dying.

And this time, I didn't want him to.

I can feel dark lopsided eyes studying me so I look up.

The smile on my interrogator's face looks like it is forced into a place it doesn't belong.

"I see," he says cryptically. "And it didn't seem strange to you that he didn't appear to recognize anyone else? His friends? His comrades, those whom he'd actually lived and fought with all the years you were with Orochimaru?"

Honestly, I'd never thought about it before. But it is strange. "No."

The pressure in the air rises as minutes tick by in uncomfortable silence. This little conversation of ours has been both more roundabout and less confrontational than I'd expected.

Ibiki lowers the sides of his mouth in a frown. "So while Uzumaki was attacking his friends and burning his home, what were you doing?"

"I told you," I reassert with asperity. "That was Kyuubi, not Naruto. They're the same, but not. When are you all going to get it right?" They did it to him and they don't even understand how it works?

"It wasn't his fault. Stop blaming him for that."

"You didn't answer my question." Ibiki says.

I twist my feet around the legs of the chair and grip my hands, feeling the tendons pull sharply. "And?"

"What were you doing while Naruto attacked the village?"

Stop asking about me. It's not about me. It's about Naruto. Naruto.

"He didn't choose to carry the fox, you know. You forced it into him. The Akatsuki forced it out. Stop referring to that thing as Naruto. It's not him."

"What were you doing?" He repeats, completely ignoring what I've said.

I swallow my irritation.

Ibiki folds his hands together and schools his face into mock disappointment. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll just have to ask Uzumaki."

"He doesn't know." I sneer in self-satisfaction.

The man shrugs, unconcerned. "We won't know for sure until we try."

They're no different from Orochimaru and the Akatsuki and yet they fancy themselves to be superior. Hmph. Konoha.

//And what can you do about it?//

I growl out a response. "I was fighting who was left."

"And who was left?" I ignore the arrogant smirk on his face.

Inhaling slowly, I try to act calm. "I don't know. Some Akatsuki guys. I didn't catalogue their names."

"I see." He pushes his chair back and stands up. He makes a circle around the chair, then stops and places his hands on the back of it. "And Uchiha Itachi was among them?"

My short nails cut into the soft wood of the furniture. "I already told you he was."

"Did you fight him?"

"Of course." I wasn't wrong.

I wasn't.

//So sure about that?//

"And what exactly happened?"

I wasn't wrong. No matter the reasons, what the circumstances, there is no excuse, no explanation that I will accept. The pain he put me through, what he planned for Naruto, for Konoha . . . for vengeance . . . he deserved what he got.

"What happened?"

Eight years ago is in the past.

It doesn't change the monster he became.

//Or what you did.//

I wasn't wrong.

"Sasuke, tell me what happened."

"Sasuke"?

He called me "Sasuke"?

Every nerve in my body snaps like bow strings strung too tight.

"I killed him!" Like an explosion, my voice shatters the air. I didn't want to think about him, about that, ever again and yet here I am, forced into it by this, this Leaf shinobi. "I killed him, all right? What did you want, for me to bring back his fucking head? He's dead!"

I wasn't wrong!

//Ku-ku-ku.//

Ibiki's face is blank as he says in total seriousness, "A head would've helped."

I look at him, blank, the exertion of my outburst still heaving my lungs. I couldn't do that. Not even to him. At one point, he was my brother. It would be like chopping off my own head. I don't give a damn what he said . . .

"I have nothing more to say."

The scarred interrogator tilts his head and looks at me, tapping the tip of his finger on the back of the chair.

I don't care what else he wants to know. I don't care about the remainder of my promise. I am done. My head is drowning with blood and memory, and I feel ready to fall any moment.

I'm sorry, Naruto. I can't keep my promise.

I can't.

//And now you will have another's blood on your hands, won't you? Finally, you'll become the killer you should have been.//

I squeeze my eyes shut, keeping everything in and dreading what is next when Ibiki shocks me with a simple, "OK."

I blink at him wordlessly and moments later am led away.

Days go by without incident or interest in my little one room cell.

I have seen Ibiki once more to "fill in the gaps", but for the most part my original story stays. And nothing more.

Sakura has stopped by, but has kept infuriatingly hush-mouthed on the topic of Naruto. I haven’t heard a thing.

Not knowing is starting to drive me crazy.

//That wouldn't take much.//

It’s as if the walls are closing in on me, my cell shrinking smaller and smaller with each consecutive hour, and the air pressing down.

Naruto better not have done anything stupid.

//And what exactly could a useless little boy like you do if he did, hm?//

Whatever I can.  I can explain again that it wasn’t Naruto’s fault.  Or remind them of all he’s done for them.

//Konoha only cares for what it can manipulate to serve its own will. Anyone who challenges that is called a threat and hunted down like a dog.//

By that logic, Naruto should fit their mold perfectly.

//Still so naïve.//

Or I could tell the whole story of Itachi.  That should distract them.

//Ha! You haven't allowed yourself to remember. What makes you think you could ever speak of it? Itachi truly won in the end. Weakling.//

Shut up.

//Ku-ku-ku-ku. No matter what you do, Itachi will always be the real genius. That's what you get for bring too soft.//

I look down to my hands, balling the hateful instruments into fists, the veins stand out blue and green beneath my skin. I shift my eyes away.

I don't want to be a genius like that.

//And that is why you lose.//

I do not lose. I do not accept defeat.

I see things differently than Itachi.

The door opens abruptly then, but I keep my eyes averted because suddenly I don't want to see. All this time in strung anticipation and now I'm not so sure I want to know the answers. The footfall is a deep, hollow note like the ending bellow of a dirge.

"Uchiha Sasuke."

I recognize the voice as that of the blond shinobi and choose, for no particular reason, to take this as a good sign. Slowly, I turn my lowered head in his direction and raise only my eyes to look at him.

"You are to come with me."

I get to my feet and allow the man to bind my hands and put a blindfold over my eyes. The time has finally come and I am not afraid.

I have already done what I set out to do.

Just as with Orochimaru, this cool acceptance washes over me of its own volition and maybe I have always known that each step I have taken will eventually lead me to the same place.

Perhaps that is why my own death no longer frightens me.

The ANBU walks beside and slightly behind me, his hand at my elbow quickly and assuredly guiding me along.

Each footstep seems final and softly permanent, the awareness of my fate oddly comforting.

But there is still one thing left.

I open my mouth and ask quietly, "What's happened with Naruto?"

But instead of answering, he says, "It's not what you think.”

His voice sounds almost friendly as he gives my arm a small squeeze. Perhaps I don’t really want to know.

We walk a little farther, the hand on my arm somewhere between nervous and awkward reassurance.

He is a strange one.

A few moments more then he speaks with a voice eerily flat.

"You're going to see the elders."

Chapter Text

The air in the office is thick with anticipation and unasked questions.

Light, cruel and harsh, invades the many open windows to curl up, over and around me like some sort of iron chain. Its terrible intense brightness makes the Hokage look like nothing more than an ominous shadow as she sits at her desk like a queen, there to cast down her judgment.

Has it always been this damn sunny in Konoha?

"So, Uchiha," the woman finally says, an amused lilt to her voice. "You‘ve heard what the elders have to say . . ."

"Yes." My jaw aches with stiffness when I open it.

"And what do you have to say about it?" Her question slides fluidly over my answer as though I never opened my mouth.

I look at her steadily, the pupils of my eyes as thin as they can be.

"No." My answer is resolute. "I'm not doing it."

I can see her smile even in the shade of her hands.

"I thought you would say as much." She lowers her arms to her desk so her hidden expression becomes clear, the sunlight glowing around her. The smile she wears is almost sinister. "But I don't believe you have seriously considered it."

"I don't have to consider it," I reply blandly. "It's unreasonable."

Her expression remains implacably the same. "It is not unreasonable at all. You cannot expect to get something for nothing and the elders have been more than reasonable. Uchiha," she shakes her head as her smile fades. "Sasuke. You need to really, seriously think about this. And the consequences. It is an extremely generous offer, much better than you have any right to expect."

My eye twitches. And the muscles in my calf strain from the pressure of pushing my foot into the floor to prevent me from attacking. I can feel that ice-cold hatred suffuse and cloud my mind.

//She deserves it. That sanctimonious, arrogant bitch.//

My breathing becomes heavy and ragged with the effort to squelch that rage and of all the times that I could use a little medicinal aid, now would be opportune.

A buzzing nervousness sneaks out from the back of my mind, the need for something to soothe me, but I choose not to dwell on it.

I wish that . . . but it doesn’t matter.  He’s not here.

"I can't do it," I say simply, because it is true. I know deep down inside the center of my self that I cannot suffer those indignities. I cannot do what they want.

It isn't worth it.

"I can't do it." The repeated statement sounds odd to my ears.

Tsunade closes her eyes and shakes her head before running her fingers through one side of her hair to smooth it out. "It is not so difficult. You certainly could agree to it. You're simply acting like a little child and refusing to because you can. You are the one being difficult."

So? "I'm not doing it." I shift to put the bulk of my weight on my other foot, trying to ease some of the tightness in my shin. "I am sixteen years old," I say forcefully, letting the outrage of what they have asked truly sink in. "I already passed the first two stages of the chunnin exam and was well on my way to completing the third."

"But you are still, technically, a genin." She spreads her hands wide and plants them palms down to her desk. I can see the curious tilt to her head, and her serious expression becomes visible as the rays of sunlight dip behind a building.

Technically or no, I'm not degrading myself. It is an insult, meant to humiliate me. "No," I reply, letting a little of my anger bleed through.

The Hokage snuffs loudly through her nose. She shakes her head again and looks to the side with a thoughtful expression. Then she turns to face me straight on. "You may have power, but you neither have the discipline or control. You do not have the understanding of what that kind of power should be used for. You're too self-centered. Sending you back to genin training will help you learn that. And if not, you can stay there forever."

The hairs on the back of my neck rise hotly. "I have discipline and control." I twist my mouth into a cruel sneer. "Or do you think Orochimaru would be a kind and forgiving teacher?"

She contemplates this uncomfortably while studying the outlines of my face. Her hands come together slowly, clasping when at last they meet. Taking a deep breath, she finally speaks. "That may be so. But you still haven't learned what it truly means to be a ninja. To protect your teammates no matter what, to follow through with your assignment regardless the obstacles. You simply left your comrades behind, both in Leaf and in Sound. Ninja are tools to help, protect and save others, not a means to an end. And yet you have only ever been a shinobi for yourself. It is not about fighting and strength and power. Those are just the actions a ninja takes, not his purpose."

My pupils shrink sharp and I hear him in the back of my mind hissing like a snake and knowing as I do how much of that pretty little speech applied to him. He had interest in the knowledge of ninja but not the practice. In that sense, I suppose we are the same.

I never pretended otherwise.

"Maybe I don't want to be a shinobi anymore," I retort smartly. I do not know whether it is the truth.

"You already are a ninja." Her face is hard and stern, harboring not even a hint of doubt. "Whether you want to be or not is irrelevant. It is in your blood, not just because you are Uchiha, but also because you are Sasuke. And he has always been a shinobi. Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise."

My heart jumps into my throat at this, caught between anger and something completely the opposite. But that changes nothing. I can’t go back. "No. I won't do it. On a team with kids! They can say that it's so I 'can learn' all they want, but it's just a test to see if I'm willing to demean myself enough to go through with it!"

I cross my arms to keep me from lashing out at her just to satisfy my frustration.

//And why not attack? That would be fun.//

'I am not listening to you.'

//Ku-ku-ku-ku.//

'And stop that laughing. It's stupid.'

"Well, of course it is," the woman says with a good-natured laugh of her own, waking me from my pointless internal conversation. "Of course they want to see how far you're prepared to lower yourself in order to stay. If you're not willing to do even this simple thing, then they know any contrition on your part is purely superficial." She inclines her head, still grinning like a cat. "And there is absolutely no point in getting a superficial vow from a ninja."

I don’t care for her logic; it won’t make me agree.

Yet there’s this nagging pull, asking me to stay.

Would it really be that bad?

//Yes.//

Yes. But unbearably, impossibly bad?

//Yes.//

Yes. So it is better to simply let it go and let them do their will. I have long been prepared for the worst.

So be it.

//Come now, my boy. What about all that rage? It would be such a waste to give it up now. And fighting would be so much more enjoyable, wouldn't you say? At least then you could get a little of the revenge you owe Konoha down and settled before taking your last pitiful breath.//

'Don't you mean your revenge?'

//Perhaps.//

'Oh really.  Don't you mean for me to attack and be weakened so you can find the opportunity to take over?'

//Perhaps.//

I snort to myself. So predictable. As if I would fall for such blatant nonsense.

//And yet, you are considering it.//

I shift my weight uncomfortably because he is right.

//Well then. What about the other parts of the deal? Ready to forgive all that then? Not that I mind, of course. . .//

And then remembering another stipulation, my anger, like a beast inside me, begins to swell out of my control. Because that, that is not under their jurisdiction.

And I just cannot comply, plain and simple.

It is my personal life!

"Besides," Tsunade says back to her own topic, a small smile still on her lips. "It is not all that uncommon. Some ninja never rise past the rank of genin, as you well know. The only difference between them and you is that you would be on a training team instead of a fully functional one. You have an undeserved superiority complex. Even so, you have too much power to simply let it go to waste.  During the days when you are in genin training," I scowl at her and her eyes crinkle in delight, "we would need to seal most of your power to prevent it from getting out of hand. But on other days, you would be receiving individual specialized training, at which times we would unseal it. Somewhat."

I feel a rush of giddiness inside that distracts me. Not that I want or need anymore training, but I’d like to use the skills I've worked so hard to attain without the unnecessary chokehold.

//Just like an obedient dog. How easily you are swayed. Do you really want another Konoha seal branded into your skin? Do really want to be tied to this place? And what about the rest, my pet, have you forgotten about that so soon?//

I release and then re-clench my hands, feeling the tightness in my tendons and skin.

No, I haven’t forgotten their invasion into my private life.

"Am I supposed to just lie down like a dog-"

//Ku-ku-ku.//

"-and do everything those wrinkly old bags want from me? Everything?" My teeth gnash roughly against each other as I fight to keep my cool.

"Wrinkly old bags they may be," the woman says, seemingly serious, but for the twinkle in her eyes, "But they are the lords of our country and deserve our respect."

Pursing my lips in disgust, I turn away, scraping my raw nail along my palm. Respect? For what? What have they ever done than claim a title they are in no way entitled to?

//Order ninja around like common servants to hunt down cats and pluck weeds?//

Exactly. Should they ever do anything to warrant my respect they shall have it, but until then they get nothing. Respect is a thing to be earned, not just freely given.

"You're thinking of that other condition, aren't you?" She doesn't have to clarify for me to know precisely what number on the list she is referring to.

My head rises up to look her straight in the eye. "They can't just expect me to do whatever they want. It's not like there aren't other factors involved. I can't just make . . ."

"No. Although technically, it shouldn't be too difficult, just not guaranteed. But for you, yes, I suspect you may have a difficult time." I don't get a chance to consider her words or her curious expression before she goes on. "And it does teeter on the boundaries of propriety and reasonability."

I snort.

"But they are not completely out of their rights."

"What?" I actually take a step forward, the first since entering the room, my hands burning at my sides, threatening but not threatening as the Hokage simply sits there. "How can you say that? Saying that my job is under their control is one thing. But this is my personal life. They can't tell me what to do."

She shrugs noncommittally. "It is not normal, but given your situation and how much reason they have not to trust you, they can impose whatever conditions they like."

"But," I say, knowing how stupid I sound. "I'm only sixteen."

"Shinobi often die young."

She just stares at me, waiting for my seething anger to boil over into outright rage. But I won't let it. They'd all just love it, wouldn't they? Any excuse to be done with the matter. And she sits up there like some sort of royalty, handing down verdicts as though she is better than the rest of us. Her fingers begin drumming against the solid wood of the furniture as she leans her chin into her free hand, smirking at me. "Funny how sixteen is either 'too old' or 'too young' dependent on the situation."

I can feel my face become burning flushed, my anger curling and coiling like a spring.

//Or a snake.//

I feel entirely too tightly wound; I'm afraid to make a move that might set that spring free.

//A little anger is healthy.//

'What do you care for my health?'

Across the room, Tsunade gets to her feet and crosses in front of her desk to lean back on it slightly, her hands holding her weight there, her legs crossed at the ankles.

"Listen, Sasuke." Her voice is steady as is the infuriating arrogance of her face. "You just have to agree to it for their sakes. And for your own, unless you truly prefer death to life in the Village Hidden in the Leaves. You have to at least try. Whether or not you choose to follow every condition afterwards is your decision."

Calming my thrumming nerves, I fold my arms over my chest and scoff. "As if you care."

"You may not believe me, but I do care." She inclines her head, her eyes softer, searching, and I could almost believe her. Almost. "You made a lot of mistakes," she goes on. "But I do not think you meant to make them."

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. My gaze shifts to the floor, to the wall, to the pictures that hang there, anything to avoid looking at her. There’s fake sympathy in her eyes and I don’t need it.

All she has ever shown since I arrived here is contempt. Hatred for being selfish, for almost getting her precious little boy killed, for somehow being that important to him . . .

And now, now she acts almost as if I am one of them. One of the Leaf . . .

//It suits her interests, nothing more. Do not be fooled by her little act, my pet. She is in the pockets of the elders, a worthless kowtowing bitch, and the elders only want what they can use.//

Yes, I know that. And yet . . .

//And you want to believe in a lie?//

I want to believe in the truth.

I flex my fingers nervously.

But I cannot change who I am. "I won't do it," I say resolutely, not meeting her eyes.

"And why not?" Without looking, I can tell by the timbre of her voice that her expression has changed.

"They don't have a right to govern my life." I insist.

The pulse of the air pulls in sharply.

"They have every right!" The piercing curtness of her shout shakes the walls and sends the dust flying. "You are a shinobi. A ninja. Or were once, at any rate. Your life is not your own. It belongs to the village to do with as they see fit. And that means in every aspect."

My eyes lock onto my brief future as it quickly floats by.

"So I don't have a choice then?"

She sighs heavily. "You always have a choice, Sasuke. But you have to understand that the choices you make have consequences." She looks at me meaningfully. "Be sure to make the right one."

"What if I'd rather face the consequences?" I ask quietly. "What if I'd rather make the other choice?"

"Then you are a fool." She pushes off from the desk and circles back around to her chair. "A bigger fool than I took you for."

My gaze darts in her direction, shooting daggers, if such a thing were possible. "And wouldn't I be the bigger fool, as you so eloquently put it," my voice barely escapes the rasping confines of my throat, "if I were to subject myself to disgrace and humiliation and slavery to stay in a place that holds nothing for me?"

I can feel the hotness of my blood, churning slowly like molten lava through my veins. They are no different from Orochimaru, or the Akatsuki; to them people are nothing more than instruments, to be used and disposed of.

Tsunade scans me up and down, her mouth a thin stripe and despite her well-practiced jutsu, I can see the frown lines cutting deep into her face. She is on the fence; I can see it as clearly as I balance there myself.

But then her expression changes, softens, and the jutsu remains intact, making her look young and sweet and new.

"And what about Naruto?"

And with that simple name, I feel myself fall off.

//Pathetic.//

"Naruto," I say, feeling the word roll over my tongue thickly. "He's OK?"

The minute that passes in silence between us stretches like a torturous year.

Then she smiles, a little sadly, but honestly.

"He is fine."

The relief I feel is far deeper than I could have ever expected and I almost crumple to the floor with the release of it.

//Truly, truly pathetic.//

"Are you just going to leave then?" Tsunade asks me, her words hushed. "And forget about him? And Kakashi and Sakura? They've all been on your side, though you don't deserve them."

"As long as I know they're OK," I say, and gather my shredded pride to stand up straight. "That's enough."

Her eyebrows crease up into her forehead, her eyes taking on a skeptical hue. "Are you so sure of that?"

But I don't get the opportunity to refute her when there is a hard knock at the door. Not taking her eyes off me, the Hokage barks a brisk, and a little short-tempered "Come in!" and the door opens.

She continues to stare at me a bit more before finally turning her attention to the newcomer ninja.

"Ah," she says, lowering her head and taking a seat. "Ibiki-san. What perfect timing."

"Hokage-sama," he replies stiffly.

The sound of his name followed by that voice I know so well, sends an involuntary and very exasperating chill down my spine.

//Ku-ku-ku-ku.//

They can't have changed their mind; that would have made this whole meeting pointless. I've already told them everything.

//Everything?//

All that they need to know. They cannot have any more questions.

//If it is so irrelevant, then why not just tell them?//

The miniscule trembling of my bottom teeth becomes annoying, so I slam my mouth shut. My stupid nerves need to get under control. I never was like this before. Not until after . . .

'It's your fault.'

//Ku-ku-ku. Does it help you to believe that?//

After a long, analytical gaze, Tsunade turns from me to direct her attention to the scarred threat beside me.

"Ibiki-san." She speaks with utmost professionalism. "I would like your opinion. Please."

I choose a small spot far-off in the distance and concentrate on it.

"Uchiha has been trained well." The statement seems to boom through the office. "Perhaps a little too well. Most men would have broken before that. He held out much longer than I expected."

I stand a little taller, hearing the reluctant, begrudging respect in his words.

But then my shoulders sag, hearing the lie in it.

It could have been, should have been worse. A lot worse. I know this. I have experienced it countless times before. What the Leaf did to me was mere child's play.

"Were it not for his connection with Uzumaki, he may very well be holding out still."

The sides of my mouth turn down sharply. Yes, the Leaf may be gentler, but it is more devious. And that is why, no matter what name they wear, they are all the same.

Tsunade simply nods and motions with her hand as if to say "go on."

"He's keeping something to himself." I can sense Ibiki's dark, penetrating eyes on me. "And I'm not sure exactly what it is. But I do not believe it is something we," he turns his gaze back to Tsunade with concealed meaning, "need to concern ourselves with. I believe whatever it is affects himself and his relationship with his brother. But we have what we need for now. The rest, whatever it may be, can come later."

My eyelids flutter anxiously. 'What we need for now'? 'The rest later'?

That's all wrong.

"But you believe that Uchiha Itachi is dead?" The question seems to weigh heavy on the Hokage's shoulders.

Ibiki turns again, his gaze once again boring into me.

"Yes. Itachi is dead. On that point, I have no doubts."

I try not to let the anything show on my face, but I do allow my muscles to relax slightly. When I do, there's a strange sort of tingling that threads through me and I have to shake my left arm to get proper feeling back. They aren't questioning the truth of my answers, just the completeness.

If they were smarter, they'd question both.

And the confidence sours. Why aren't they questioning it?

There is huge sigh from the Hokage, her face very pensive while the light glows around her.

Maybe they don’t want to know.  It would put you in a very tricky situation, wouldn’t it, Hokage-sama?

Her face, however, remains passive. "And you have nothing else to add?"

Ibiki stares a moment, out into nothing, and I try not to let it bother me. At last, his beady eyes focus on Tsunade and he says succinctly, "No."

The woman waves her hand, almost relieved, and dismisses him. "Very well. Thank you, Ibiki-san."

He nods tersely and leaves, sparing only a brief glance for me.

This is too easy.

"Uchiha." Said shortly, it recaptures my attention. I turn to her and see her eyes drawn to my hand, which I am stretching at my side. Abruptly, I stop, but a trace of the prickling remains.

Tsunade's lips pull into a smile that does not look at all friendly.

"Have you reconsidered yet?"

Looking at her coldly, dispassionately, I let the question go by unanswered.

She leans back. "Think very carefully. A few concessions."

I huff irritably under my breath.

"A few concessions and you'll be allowed to stay, at least for some amount of time."

I narrow my golden iris eyes, thin and unrelenting. "Yes. A few concessions." I pause thoughtfully. "What did you say to the elders?"

Her smiles strains at the corners, but she doesn’t reply.

"I am not stupid." I try to look through her. "Your hand is heavy in this. Why?"

A wave of fear and anger ripples over her face before smoothing back out. Her mysterious smile is back; she will tell me nothing.

"Are you going to hold me captive here until I reconsider?"

She shrugs lazily. "Maybe."

I stand still, take a breath and stare back out to that speck in the distance.

"And if I do agree, then what happens?" I'm stalling for time.

//You are not seriously considering this are you, my pet?//

'Stop calling me your pet, you freak.'

"You know the terms." She clears her throat and locks gazes with me, back in her element. "If you refuse now, there is only one option. There won't be any second chances. But if you stay and abide by their rules, well, you just never know. Is it really so much to ask?"

Yes. And even if I did agree, it would only extend this worthless life, not save it.

Her eyebrows pull together tightly. "Are you really and truly sure there is nothing here you want to hold onto?"

A flurry of images flutter over my mind’s eyes.

Naruto.

My closest friend and the only reason I came back here to begin with.

That doesn't make it my home, though.

//What nonsense.//

But can I do this? Am I willing to put myself through all this just to keep my friend?

Is he worth it?

I look to Tsunade.

Is he?

The sun peeks back out into the sky and pierces me in the eye. I blink it away.

I turn my head to the side and mumble. "Fine."

My parasite huffs.

//How could I expect any different for a little boy who never changes? Well, I suppose we could just attempt an escape later. You did it once, I'm sure you can manage to do it again.//

Tsunade's frown brightens to a smile, a little too happy, if you ask me, and way too relieved. "Good. Very good." She picks up a stack off papers and straightens them. "Then I suppose it's time you settled in."

"Settled in?"

Her mouth twists unpleasantly, the look of the unmitigated victor on the battlefield. "Of course. You didn't think we'd just let you live alone, did you? Besides, you've still got a bit of healing to do before you enroll back in classes," she giggles maliciously, "and someone will need to oversee that. And also make sure you don't fall into any unnecessary trouble."

"I've been on my own before. For quite a long time as I recall." Growling under my breath, I shoot her an especially nasty look.

But she just smiles and makes no further comment, as if I have said nothing.

"I’ve made the necessary living arrangements for you." She stacks the papers into the "in" box sitting on her desk. I wonder how she has any clue which documents are new or old, in that vast disaster area of papers and scrolls and pens. "Your roommate should be arriving any minute now."

"Roommate?" This can't be good.

"Ah." Tsunade's short word is the only warning I get before there is a swirl of wind and leaves in the localized tornado materializes in the space beside me.

"Sorry I'm late," says a voice I remember all too well. "But see, there were this old lady and this cat . . ."

Sullenly, almost willing it false, I turn around to see, but there he stands: his big silver hair sticking out to one side, his one eye closed in a happy crescent and that smug smile concealed beneath his mask.

He raises his hand in greeting.

"Yo."

You have got to be kidding me.

Chapter Text

The apartment is neat and tidy with everything up and put in its place.

Almost as if I was expected.

I grimace.

"I cleaned up a bit." Kakashi is way too cheery as he stands behind me, answering a question I never asked.

He brushes past, heads straight into the kitchen, and makes a great deal of noise in his search for pots and pans. Something about that doesn't seem quite right for a man of jounin level.

He gestures offhandedly down the narrow hallway. "You can use the room you did last time." He raises his masked face and smiles that irritating smile at me. "It's been waiting for you."

My grimace twists angrily. "Don't talk about that." I need no reminders of the mistakes I’ve made.

"Oh, sensitive are we?" I don't have to look to know he’s still grinning like an idiot. "If that's the way you want to play it, Sasuke . . ."

He lets the sentence dangle as if I could play it any other way. I shoot him a particularly mean look from the corner of my eye as I go down the hallway, but he just hums some inane little song.

My sad little bag stares up at me indifferently as I stand in the open doorway of the empty room, which is now to be mine. Tossing it unceremoniously to the feebly made bed, I wander to the bathroom to check my image in the mirror.

It is quite horrible. The shirt I wear is the one they gave me, torn and stained and bearing its age in its once-was-black gray. My hair hangs dull and listless in thin, twined strings that frame my too pale face. The only color there is from the purpled bruise over the right cheek and the scars that cut my chin, bisect my eyebrow, and slice my eye so that it swells unattractively. How nice that this is how I appeared when I stood before the Hokage.

Perhaps it is appropriate.

My eyes wander to the small raised welt across my throat that shines gray and white. I raise my hand to touch it. Lifting my middle finger, I graze it along the length of the scar and it tingles. It’s strange and almost too smooth, the cut clean from where Naruto made it.

I drop my hand.

I turn on the faucet and dip my dirty hands beneath the running water. I haven’t had a proper bath in weeks and it takes a long time for the water run clear. As quickly and efficiently as I can under the circumstances, I wash the grime from my face so that I don't feel completely filthy. I would really like a bath, but the tub here inexplicably has a big "out of order" sign on it and the alternative is not much to my liking.

I’m not going to wear the ones from Sound.

So I exit the bathroom only slightly cleaner, with Kakashi standing there, creepily expectant.

"Hands all washed and clean?" He asks brightly. "Good. Dinner's ready."

I follow him to the table, not thinking about just how disturbing that was.

We sit in silence for a while, partly because there is nothing to say and partly because I never knew that Kakashi was this accomplished a cook. He’s never made anything like this before that I can remember.

There’s too much silence in the room; too much attention directed at me. I shovel a bit of food into my mouth.

This is all too, well, "normal" is the only word that comes to mind. It doesn't feel right.

I look at Kakashi slyly over the top of my dinner and see that stupid smile still there, revealed clearly through the fabric. I chew loudly.

"Why," I start and then raise my head to look him squarely in the face. "Why am I really here?"

His grin doesn't change, if anything it becomes even wider. "You needed a place to stay."

My mouth turns down and I bite the inside of my cheek. "You know what I mean."

He tilts his head curiously, keeping the chopsticks poised in front of him, but not actually eating anything. He’s not answering my question.

"It all seemed a little too easy." I elaborate, my eyes dilating oddly.

"Is that what you think?"

I drop my chopsticks to my plate and fold my hands in front of me, just like I did as a boy to keep my emotions in check.

Kakashi sits there, frozen in time, which is perhaps the creepiest thing among many he has done so far. My eyes narrow as the pupils flicker somehow.

"Why am I really here?" I repeat.

"I’m not part of the Hokage's inner circle." But I can tell by the look in his one eye that he knows something. Then, quick as lightning, he lifts the mask and takes the bite of food and even though I'm sitting right in front of him, unblinking, I do not see his face.

OK, maybe that's the creepiest thing.

I pick up my chopsticks and continue to eat, just so I have a good excuse not to look at him.

He’s still eating in that creepy way and he’s still staring at me.  It’s all very uncomfortable.

"Do you have a lot of guests here?" I ask for no particular reason.

"Not really." He smiles happily. "You're the only one in quite some time."

"Then why do you have an extra bedroom?"

//Why exactly are you making inane conversation?//

"Who says it's extra?" He quips dumbly. I ignore that and he goes on. "I like to be prepared. You never know when you might need a spare room."

I shove a chopstick-full of food in my mouth, having nothing more to say.

"You're going to have to take it easy for a while," he then says. "You’ve got a lot of wounds that still need time to heal. We should probably set a schedule to change the bandages . . ."

"I'd rather have Sakura do it," I blurt out defensively. It’s habit to use her and habit is good.

"Sakura, is it?" He sounds vastly amused and I sneer at him. Then he sings a few bars of idiocy under his breath.

I am no longer hungry and the chopsticks slip easily from my hand. Without missing a beat, Kakashi catches them up along with the plates and dumps the whole lot into the sink.

His voice drifts over the flowing water. "Is there anything else you need?"

I pause a scant moment.

"A bath."

"Yes, well, I was about to suggest that." He crinkles his nose; I suppose he thinks it's charming or some such nonsense. It's not. "You are carrying a million scents on you right now, none of them pleasant." I glare at him. "Well, it's easily enough handled. There's a bathhouse down the street."

I drop my chin into my hand and grumble. "Why don't you just fix the bath in here?"

"That wouldn't be as much fun, now would it?" I don’t want to know what that means and I don’t want to go to a bathhouse.  It’s too public.

I squirm awkwardly in my seat.

//Of all things, you are afraid of an innocent little bath? Ku-ku-ku.//

Kakashi laughs, actually laughs! "Not to worry, Sasuke. At this late in the day, there are rarely more than a couple people there and I hardly think they'll pay you any attention, regardless of how you look. And," he adds pointedly, "I've managed to procure you several changes of clothes."

I had not expected that.

I face him, a little wary and suspicious, but all he does he wear that same galling grin beneath his mask. Everything has been prepared for me, almost as if Konoha assumed I would stay the moment I stepped through the city gates. I scowl, not liking the implications. So I push myself from the table and without speaking another word, pack myself up to leave.

----

My skin is nearly the same nondescript color as the bandage that Naruto wraps carefully around my wrist. We haven't spoken in a quite a while.

I keep my head lowered, watching Naruto's hands unwind the long strip of cloth over and over and around my hand.

We are getting close to our goal, step by slow step. I can feel it in my bones, a beacon attuned exclusively to Itachi, lighting up like a thunderstorm the nearer we get.

I’m getting sick of all the Akatsuki members barring my way as if they are something of importance. At this rate, by the time I finally do find Itachi, I’ll have nothing left to fight with.

I clench my hand in frustration and accidentally wrench my fractured wrist.

"Ow," I say.

Naruto's hands stop and cup protectively around mine. "Sorry," he murmurs.

I don't correct his misconception.

He takes one last pass of cloth under my wrist before tucking the end securely into place. Then he quickly clasps his hands around the injury, gently as though it is a butterfly newly born of chrysalis and too delicate to touch. He doesn't want to let it go, but neither does he want to hurt it. The presence of his almost-touch is cool and comforting around my overheated skin.

I lift my head to look at him, but he's not looking at me. His golden hair sticks out more chaotically than usual, an aftereffect of the recent fight he hasn't yet attended to. A small bloodstain shows through the hair at his crown.  He got hit soundly during the battle, but the crack has already healed over.

"Why do you do that?" He asks quietly. I’m about to let the question simply pass, but he’s opening his mouth to repeat it.

"Do what?"

"Jump in when I'm fighting. Push yourself too hard." He raises his eyes sheepishly up to me and though wavering, still maintains my gaze.

I simply look at him for a while before dipping my chin and allowing one eyebrow go up as if to say "and what about you?"

He scowls, his lower lip pushing so hard against his upper that the two form a very distinct upside down "v".

"I'm not talking about me," he grumbles. "I know why I do it. But I don't get why you would. It doesn't seem to fit."

The silence lingers, sniffing around us for quite some time. It's an odd sort of silence, not exactly tense, but filled with all the things that cannot possibly be known or understood between us.

Naruto is still cradling my wrist and I don't do anything about it. Then he slides his hand slowly up to my elbow, causing all the little hairs on my arm to stand up on end. The silence fills me like a spirit, pumping at my heart and making it beat a thousand times faster than it should. Steadfastly, I retain my position as if this is a game and the moment I acknowledge Naruto's action, I lose. The hand he held cupped to the underside of my wrist now moves, glides beneath my palm and fans out my fingers in line with his until they rest seamlessly together. My eye flinches at the corners from the pain.

This new fascination with my hands that he's developed mystifies me. This is the first time he's done this palm-to-palm thing.  I just don't get it.

Naruto takes his hand in a graceful arc upward, mine along with it, so that from fingertip to elbow, they are perpendicular to the floor. In the same time it takes for this slow, easy movement, I rotate my head back around to meet his eyes. His stare is fixated as he looks at me, one eye fully exposed, the other revealed only through the gap of our spread fingers.

Unintentionally, my eyes flick to our hands, so very different from one another yet bred for the same brutal purpose. His fingers almost disappear behind my longer ones, but his hand is wider, showing their golden pink palms to me on either side of mine. My pale white hand, partially obscured by bandage and slightly singed skin gives the optical illusion of cutting through his like a black hole. It’s an odd sensation.

I feel the steady, rapid pulse of his heart in my palm.

I look back to his face and see that his expression hasn’t changed.

"I know," he says mysteriously and my heart flutters for a mere instant as if this something of great consequence, "why I do it."

And then there is the pounding silence, sounding suspiciously like the beat of Naruto's heart.

-----

The temperature of the water is pleasantly warm as it washes away the tension I held in my muscles for far too long.

My skin is so scrubbed clean that it’s almost to the point of being pinkly raw. The burns and cuts littered over me prickle and sting at exposure to water, but I bear it for the sake of cleanliness.

I lean my head back to the edge of the tub and cautiously eye the two wrinkled old men in the corner who seem to have fallen asleep. Then I decide I don't care.

Not too long after, I get out and dry quickly, grasping onto this much needed privacy for as long as it lasts.

The cool contrast of the open air bites into my wounds, so I quickly shuffle through my "illegal" bag and pull out a set of boxers and a roll of bandages. Sitting there in my underwear, still dripping somewhat, I take a deep breath before beginning the operation.

The first few are not too bad. They are small or nearly healed, so I can make quick work of them without much trouble. But they grow steadily worse making me wince and groan. The newness of them, the remembered, revisited hurt begins to become an issue. By the time I reach what I know will be the worst, my breathing has become heavy and sharp.

It is humiliating.

Deliberately, I begin unwinding the roll of bandage slowly to prepare myself. When I initially took it off the bandages before the bath, the first few passes were simple enough, only cloth to cloth, but once I reached the center, the pain was nearly unbearable. The bandage had adhered to my skin and each pull had tugged a little more raw skin free.

The soap and water hadn't exactly numbed anything. But I had to do it. I can't tolerate feeling all dirty and disgusting and infected like that.

It’s exhausting and for a brief moment, I rest.

Out in the nearby hallway, there is some loudmouth causing a commotion.

The door flies open and there is one final hearty laugh before the room goes suddenly silent.

"Sas-sasuke."

He’s O.K.

A rush of relief hits me, immediately followed by a rush of irritated embarrassment.

Inwardly I groan but I do not turn, only grip the fabric tightly in my fist until I no longer feel my fingers and will him to go away.

Then there's another voice yelling an intelligent "Hey, c'mon," at which point I will harder.

A strange scuffle ensues, back behind my shoulder where I can't see, and the door creaks on its hinges as Naruto's voice pitches in anxiety.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," he stammers. "Could you go back and get me my bag?"

"Your bag? Man, Naruto, this is a bath in case you didn't notice. You don't need your bag!" The second person sounds amused and taunting and very, very stupid.

Kiba.

If he takes one step in here, I'm not sure what I may be forced to do.

The tussle over possession of the door continues.

"No, no, just go get it, OK?" Naruto sounds almost desperate. "I really, really need it. I'll owe you one, I promise. Pleeease." He uses the whine that can get anyone to do anything, just to make him shut up.

"Alright, alright. Don't have a cat." Dog boy grumbles and the door slams loudly behind him.

I look over to the two old men and see that they haven't moved, even through all the ruckus.

I hope they're not dead.

That would be unpleasant on so many levels.

Naruto's feet slap softly along the tiled floor as he steps closer but it is not until he kneels before me that I actually look at him. I notice his seal has changed from what I remember, not that I commit such things to memory. There are extra characters surrounding the swirl that pulse a gentle blue, but I quickly pull my gaze away because I shouldn't be looking to start with. The towel around his waist barely covers him, but I don't want to think about that either, so I don't. Instead I look at his strangely blinking eyes, which have tinted slightly purple.

The he smiles softly and holds out his hand. "Let me do that for you."

When I don’t hand over the bandages, he just takes them and delicately places them on the floor beside me, picking up a jar of salve instead.

But my nerves get the better of me and I snatch the jar away from him. He looks dejectedly for some reason but doesn’t protest. Very carefully, ignoring him, I apply a thick layer of the healing ointment over my wound. The coldness of it against my warmed skin burns before it soothes. I hiss shortly through my teeth.

Blue eyes flicker up to me momentarily, but quickly look away and he nervously scratches the whisker marks on his cheek. I place the end of the bandage down to my skin, taking one pass around my abdomen before my energy fails. Cautiously, Naruto glances back up, flicking his gaze between my hand and face until he finally takes hold of the fabric, even more delicately than before. He looks at me questioningly, and then begins to wrap the bandage slowly, his arms winding around me at intervals, his body leaning in, leaning out. It's almost hypnotic. The warm nearness of him is a comforting reminder of the simpler times that were, when the only warmth we had was each other. It makes me sleepy and I want to lie down right now and pull him down beside me, wondering how different it would feel if we slept like that, closer than we have before.  I wonder if his skin is as smooth as it looks, so completely unlike mine.

I hold my hands stiffly at my sides and swallow hard.

His eyes flash up to me, likely catching my nervousness. They are worried and big¸ anxious that he is hurting me and he bites his lower lip between his teeth.

I glare, as much at myself as at him and he stops.

Once the bandaging is done, he tenderly smoothes his hand over the end, sealing it in place. I swear I can feel his fingertips through the cloth, but it may just be my imagination. It makes me uneasy.  My eyes squeeze shut and my teeth grit and I know it's Naruto, but that doesn't seem to make a difference.

Because this is different.

I take a deep breath.

Then he stands, the weight of his presence leaving me.

Silently, he circles around and begins to replace the few bandages that remain across my back, the ones I couldn't reach and intended to let stay. He is very methodical, much like any other medic-nin, and when he finishes the last one, his hand remains there, feeling my shoulder only through the thickness of gauze.

I do not move.  The light touch of Naruto’s hand is the only thing that has felt truly real over the past few foggy days.

He glides his hand, feather-light, tickling and searing my skin until threading it slowly through the hair at the back of my head.  My eyelids fall shut. I shouldn’t allow this, but I do. My mouth parts open to let out a long shuddering breath in remembered sensation.

Then his hand is gone and the room suddenly seems far colder than it did before.

Time starts again.

I sit up and look back at the old men, wrinkling their wrinkles in the hot steaming water.

Their positions have changed slightly, so I know they are not dead.

I mumble a short, half-hearted "thanks" and start to get dressed.

Naruto's "you're welcome" sounds a little surprised as if he too has just woken up.

The clothes I find in the bag are not a great fit, but I suppose they’ll do. The shirt is much like the ones I wore as a boy, black and baggy, with the Uchiha fan emblazoned on the back. The pants are like Kakashi's, so much so that they might have been his once, a notion I'd rather not think about too hard.

I can feel Naruto's eyes watching as I dress, which makes me feel funny, but I'm not sure it's a bad feeling and that makes it worse.

I pack up my bag and head to the door.

"What did he do to you?"

The question is spoken soft and shaky, but as there is no other sound in the room, it reverberates. I pause for a second and then choose to ignore it.

But it is repeated.

Now I stop dead in my tracks, crushing the strap of the bag in my hand and collect myself.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what," Naruto states a bit irritably. "Orochimaru."

I inhale calmly. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah?" He steps closer, his feet padding softly over the floor, and lays his hand lightly on my shoulder. "Then why are you so afraid of people touching you?"

"I'm not afraid." This is a stupid conversation.

"You’re trembling."

At that, I look down and see that, yes, my traitorous hand is shaking like a leaf in the wind. I pull it into a fist.

"Sasuke, did he," Naruto swallows thickly. Then he whispers like a secret, "Did he touch you?"

Suddenly, I feel the flame of rage as I spin around, swatting his hand from my shoulder.

So that’s what everyone thinks.  Even Naruto.

//How unfair that I am accused of a thing which I never did get to sample.//

'Shut up, you repulsive monster.'

"No," I say, fighting the anger that claws at the edges of my eyes. "No, Naruto. All he did was remind me that kindness is just a cover for cruelty." My vision tightens. "I should thank you for reminding me again. I'd almost forgotten"

I turn on my heel and walk away, collecting the tattered remnants of my pride and wrapping it tight around me.

"But Sasuke," he stutters lamely. "I didn't mean . . ."

But I never hear what it is he "didn't mean" and I don't care. I’m not a victim.

Naruto should know better.

All those months together.

He should know me better than that.

But I guess I’m the one who should know better.

"See you tomorrow," he calls quietly after me.

I pause a moment, whispering to myself, "No, you won't." In the silence, I know he’ll hear me. Then I swing the door open.

"So it was you, was it?" Kiba slurs snidely from where he sits on the floor, his legs sticking out in front of him, blocking the hallway.

I glower down at him, recalling my earlier promise to pummel him and the wolfish grin on his face only strengthens the inclination. But then seeing he is clad only in a towel, I reconsider.

He stands himself up with a grunt and his beady eyes survey me, amused, those fangs still showing sharply in his mouth.

Then he snorts, shakes his head and walks inside.

"Here's your bag, Naruto."

Naruto's answer is slow in coming.

"Shut up, Kiba."

And the door closes.

Chapter Text

"Ah, all nice and squeaky clean and smelling fresh?"

That's the annoyingly bright greeting I receive when I return to the apartment.

I scowl at him.

Kakashi claps his hands and rises from his place on the couch where he'd been watching the door like a hawk. "Ready then?"

I do not move from my spot. "Ready for what?"

He walks by me and takes hold of the door I have so recently entered through. Then he smiles that infuriating smile. "To get your seal of course!"

Raising an eyebrow to him, I try to convey how much I do not appreciate his chipper attitude.

But his expression doesn't change a bit as he steps into the cool night air. "Chop-chop, Sasuke! We don't want to keep them waiting."

I don’t bother saying that I’d just assume keep them waiting forever.  Nor do I make mention that he’s the last person to be doling out advice about tardiness.  I just drop my bag and follow him out the door.

The entire way, Kakashi hums under his breath and for all his concern over being late, he strolls rather lazily.

Fine with me. I've had enough of seals. Pretty soon there won't be any room for more. The effects will probably start crossing and explode or something.

"The seals won't interact," Kakashi says in that aggravating way he has of reading my mind. "And this one can be turned on and off."

He looks back over his shoulder with that crescent moon smile.  “By a licensed professional, of course.”  I glare at him as hard as I can.

We enter Hokage Tower in silence and darkness, and climb a winding staircase to a large room hidden somewhere in the center. People are already, waiting in the shadows like specters, each of their hands held steady in a different sign. On the floor are two inked circles drawn inside several larger ones, with long lines stretching out to meet each of the lurking shadows.

"Uchiha Sasuke has arrived," Kakashi announces loudly and needlessly.

"Good." One of the shadows detaches itself from the whole, her long blonde hair falling down over her shoulders. "Let's get this over with," Tsunade says. It's late and we'd all like to get to bed."

Kakashi nods solemnly and leads me to the center of the room, directing me to sit down between the two smallest circles. Without question or explanation, he takes my hands and places them palm up on either side, centered within the circles.

The ritual is very similar to the one used on my other seal.  The printed symbols pull up and embed themselves deep into my skin, muscle and bone. It is like a thousand tiny needles driving deeper and deeper into my flesh until they clear the other side. It takes only a few minutes but I am left the same as I was the last time, blurry and dizzy, with my body ringing out in pain.

But I don’t pass out; not this time.  I struggle to my feet, wobbly and weak, and walk out on my own.

By the time I get to Kakashi's apartment and into my room that I black out, nearly as soon as my head hits the pillow.

When I finally wake up the next day, it is far past morning as the flicker of light through the blinds tells me.

I didn't know just how tired I was.

But then, it has been so long since I’ve slept in a real bed, fluffy and comfy and warm.

Discomfiting as it is, I’m surprised to wake up alone.

For some reason, I had imagined Naruto was here with me. In my sleep, I had thought the soft wornness of the cotton sheets had been his skin beneath my fingertips. It’s strange and disappointing and I’m not going to think about it further.

It’s nearly twelve hours after the moment I laid down, a marathon of a nap, but I'd still be inclined to close my eyes if it weren't for the annoying yellowed paper taped to my forehead.

I rip it off.

Good morning Sleepyhead Sasuke, it says.

That name had better not stick.

There is food in the fridge when you get hungry. You are welcome to it, as long as you make a list of what you use. Feel free to look through whatever is in the common area, but do not go in my room. This is for your safety. I will be gone most of the day, setting arrangements for you and your new schedule. I have left a list of things we need when you get the chance to go out. Get some rest.

I'd like to know how exactly I'm supposed to "get rest" and "run an errand" at the same time.

There's also a "p.s." which reads: Don't try anything sneaky or embarrassing. The ANBU are watching you, followed by a stupid looking smiley face acting as a punctuation mark.

Does he really think I need reminding of the ANBU? I may not have seen them yet, but I can feel their menacing presence deep in the marrow of my bones.

Grumbling, I roll over and get up, crinkling the paper disgustedly in my hand and tossing it into a dark empty corner of my room.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, I see that I really don't look any different from yesterday, except maybe a little cleaner.  I could do a henge and hide my yellow eyes, but that would just be a waste of chakra.

I'm not going to hide like a coward. These are my eyes now, the village may as well get used to them.

//They are still mine.//

I groan inwardly and get dressed.

Sitting in the living room, I eat my breakfast, plain wheat cereal, and begin to peruse some of the old nasty scrolls Kakashi has stacked up in shelves one on top of the other.

They’re not as interesting as I had hoped and I end up getting more dust than information from them. I lean back on the couch with a sigh and spot Kakashi’s shopping list sitting on the kitchen counter.  I consider.  Then I reconsider.  It’s not like I’m doing anything else.

----

It’s raining.

I dislike the rain.

And umbrellas, despite their claim, never quite keep you dry, as evidenced by the water I drip all over the grocery floor.

The small grocery is exactly as I remember from the long past days when I was a different person.

The Uchiha compound is not far.

Nearly all the items on Kakashi's list have been tucked tidily into my basket, with only the eggs remaining. At least real cooking will going on in the apartment.  Not like with Naruto.

I swear, he'd catch the fish, but then he'd have no idea what to do with them other than burn them to a charcoal crisp over a fire!

I let out a short laugh to myself.

Naruto . . .

//You sound like a lovesick puppy.//

I purse my lips tightly.

'I do not.'

//Then why do you always say his name like that?//

'I don't say it in any particular way.’

//Hmm, is that so . . . Still too soft, like a child. But do not fret, Sasuke-kun. I shall fix that.//

'Oh, shut up.'

Picking up a carton of eggs, I check each one carefully to ensure that none are cracked and just as I am placing it into my basket, a man steps out of the past and approaches me.

"Excuse me, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

What?

I look to the pudgy, fidgety man in front of me. There is a thin layer of sweat glistening over his chubby face, making him shine like a beacon under the harsh electric lights.

I remember this man. Harada, I believe. I am sure it is the same man I knew as a child, only fatter.  The only thing thinner about him now is his hair. He used to smile at me and sneak extra treats into my bag.  I was the only child he knew that wasn’t fond of sweets.

I remember him as a friendly and cheery man.

How things have changed.

"I'm about to leave," I say calmly and indicate my now full basket. "I just need to purchase these."

Harada nervously twists his sausage fingers together. "No," he whimpers. "Without the groceries."

I narrow my eyes but keep my voice placid and level. "I can pay."

"Oh, oh." He frets stupidly and his piggy eyes shift to his left. I follow his gaze and notice that at the end of almost every aisle, there is at least one person peeking out from between the stacks.

"You see," he goes on and I turn back to him. "You're making the other customers nervous."

I look back over to partial faces peering out at me. It looks more like they're preparing at any moment to form an angry mob, fully decked out with pitchforks and torches.

//What did I tell you? Konoha!//

I take a breath and face the fat, jumpy little man. "Fine." I reply through clenched teeth and reiterate my previous demand. "I will just pay for this and then be on my way."

"Oh, oh." Harada stutters and now the sweat is dripping off his face, making an unsightly puddle on the floor.

"No, see. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave without your groceries and to never come back here again." He leans in, as if to share a secret, and adds in a hoarse whisper, "My customers don't like that you're here and I have a business to run. You understand . . ."

I shoot him a nasty glare, giving the same to each of his customers in turn.

I understand, all right.

The Village Hidden in the Leaves.

I can feel it again. Looming, coiling anger that tightens like a snake inside me.

//Go ahead. Just one. No one will miss one little shop keeper.//

'I am not like you. I follow my own path.'

//Yes, of course. Funny that they seem so much the same . . .//

The metal handle of the basket bruises my palm, yet it feels somehow separate from me. My eyes flash red for only a second before I get back under control.

But the once friendly Harada has already seen it, his eyes wide in terror as the pool at his feet widens.

"Fine," I say, hard but controlled. Placing the basket at my feet, I turn on my heel.

Harada suddenly drums up the nerve to speak.

"I really am sorry, Sasuke-kun," he whispers in a squealing, unconvincing tone.

I look straight ahead. "Do not ever call me that."

I hold my head high with what little is left of my pride still intact. As I leave, I catch in the corner of my eye the slightest glimpse of that strange white-eyed girl peering at me from behind a pile of oranges.

----

The onion in my hand feels papery and heavy and smells very strongly of eye-burning sharpness. I drop it into the basket.

The market vegetables fill my nose with the overflowing aroma of sweet and spice and acid. The mushrooms smell deep like earth as we sort meticulously through the pile. I've always enjoyed all the different scents and textures that I experience when we go out shopping, ridiculous as that sounds.

Mama runs her fingers softly through my hair. I tilt my head up to her and scowl, but she just smoothes down the back of my head and smiles that special smile. The hair pops back up again when her hand drops and I jut out my lower lip in protest.

I'm a big boy now, already five, and I don't need my mother fussing over me in public like I am still a baby in diapers. I turn my head away sharply in indignation, but she laughs lightly behind the curled ball of her hand, doing a poor job of hiding her amusement.

The truth is I like when she runs her fingers through my hair. It is calming and comforting and makes me pleasantly sleepy. I like Mama's special smile and all the little things she does just for me.

Just not in public.

"Mo-om!" I whine, keeping my voice to a respectable whisper. "You can't do stuff like that. I'm a ninja."

"Oh?" She asks, her dark eyes sparkling. "Well, you're not a ninja yet."

I deepen my frown and cross my arms.

She smiles and brings a tomato up to her nose, breathing in its ripeness. She places it in the basket beside the onion and its little scallion kin.

"What do you think your father and brother would like for dinner today?"

"How would I know?" I grumble, and turn away.

Mother chooses some fresh herbs, puts a hand to my back and gently leads us to the front counter, never saying either a word of reproach or understanding.

Yet I can feel the smile in the way her fingernails brush lightly over the neck of my shirt. I keep my arms crossed and raise my head high; retaining what little dignity is afforded me.

"Well, Well. And how are you today, Mikoto-san?"

The man at the cash register greets my mother brightly, like an old friend. My mother inclines her head politely and deposits her groceries on the counter. At almost the same time, I put my chubby little fingers onto that counter and peek up over the edge. The tabletop is high, and at five, I'm still short, not having yet gone through a growth spurt, so I can hardly see over it.

"Ah, and who do we have here?"

The big man leans over, peering at me at the counter's edge. He seems mammoth from where I am, like a mountain with a head precariously perched on top. He has small dark eyes in a large face, but he looks friendly, with the wild tuft of brown hair that seems to spring from the crown of his head. He is bulky, but not fat and I guess he's acquired all that muscle from lifting a lot of the crates here in the market.

"This is my youngest son," Mama says and smiles down at me, her hand still at my back and her eyes crinkled shut. "Say hello, Sasuke."

"Hi," I say begrudgingly, my lower lip sticking out. I'm still upset at the way Mama always treats me like a baby.

"Well, let's see if we can't get a smile on that handsome little face, why don't we?"

The man reaches a large hand into a basket that sits nestled beside the register and pulls out a handful of brightly wrapped little packages.

"Oh, no, Harada-san." My mother interrupts. "I'm sorry, but Sasuke doesn't like sweets."

Harada's eyebrows shoot upward and almost disappear into his hairline.

"You don't say."

Mom rubs the back of my head again and I frown.

The man smiles. He turns around and seems to be rummaging through something and mumbling.

"Ah, here we are! How about you try one of these?" He says this brightly as he holds out a small bag. "Rice Crackers" the label reads, and after a moment of skeptical consideration, I take it from him.

"Thank you, Harada-san," My mother says. "You're vey kind. Say 'thank you', Sasuke."

"Thank you," I mumble and peruse the package in my hands. I rip the bag open, inspect one of the oddly shaped crackers and pop it into my mouth.

It is hard but crispy, as much air as cracker with a hint of sweetness hidden within its starchy flavor.

"You like 'em?" The man asks.

I just shrug my shoulders.

He chortles good-naturedly, shakes his head, and begins ringing up mama's purchases. "Not too many kids don't like sweets," he muses. "You're an interesting one, little Sasuke."

I ignore the insulting "little" remark and continue to snack.

"So, Sasuke-kun. Are you going to be a ninja too?"

I stop, look up at him wide-eyed and nod my head vigorously.

"He'll be another one like Itachi-kun, I suspect," Harada says, packing the groceries carefully into a sack. "You must be proud, Mikoto-san."

Now I grin widely because I like to be told I am like Itachi, rather than to be recounted of the many differences between us.

But when I turn back to look up at my mother in pride and happiness, the smile she wears seems wrong, tight, and not quite what it should be.

"Yes," she says in a very small voice.

"Yup, yup," the grocer says, oblivious. "They are of the Uchiha clan, after all."

But Mama's not really paying attention so I tug lightly on the end of her sleeve. She looks down at me as I offer her one of my rice crackers. She smiles, sweeter this time as it reaches her eyes. Mama takes one of the crackers and puts it in her mouth, then pats me on the head. I gaze happily up at her.

Mama is silly.

Then, without warning, she leans down and plants a small kiss on my forehead before I even have the chance to defend myself.

"Mom!" I cry, wiping at my forehead with my fingers as if I can erase the embarrassment.

But she just smiles, like some sort of fox up to its old tricks and Harada laughs.

"Now, now, Mikoto-san. You shouldn't do such things. He's a big boy now."

And I want to assert a "that's right!", but Harada didn't sound entirely serious.

Mama pays the man and we head down the street for home, stopping by the fish market to buy something fresh and I get to carry it, wrapped up in crisp brown paper and string.

So many people say hello to mother, so many people like her, that I feel special and perhaps a little bit jealous. I edge a tad closer to her side as we walk. She smiles at me and I at her and our previous, insignificant spat is a thing of the far-distant past.

Then a young couple walks up and greets Mama and she responds by giving a small bow and congratulating them. Not knowing what to do, I follow suit, careful not to let the fish slip from my hands and onto the dusty road.

The three adults exchange pleasantries, the couple nervous and giddy and holding hands. The man constantly fiddles with his hair and gazes upon the girl with a grin like an idiot. Then they all say good bye and the two stumble off, practically tripping on their too close proximity to each other.

Mama and I continue on our way home, but I take several backward glances at the couple, wondering just what could be wrong with them.

"Mama?" I venture cautiously. "Why'd you congratulate them?"

"Well," she says. "They just got married."

"Oh." I scrunch up my nose and take another look back. "You and father are married, but you don't act like that."

"Well, your father and I have been married for a while. Akiko and Jun are newlyweds." Mama answers indulgently.

"So that means they act crazy?"

Mama laughs then, shaking her head in amusement. "It's not crazy. Newlyweds often act like that because they're so happy."

My eyes go wide and I almost recoil in horror. "You mean you and Father were like that?"

"Yes, in a way."

I can't picture my father being anything but serious; the image just doesn't fit. But if Mama says so," Ew."

She laughs harder then, her laughter like music tinkling down to my ears. Tears spring from her eyes and she rubs them away with the tip of her finger and the bag she carries crinkles in her hand.

I pout. It isn't funny.

"Oh, Sasuke. Someday, you will be like that, too."

I clutch the fish tightly.

"Not me." And I shake my head vehemently as if I can shake the idea off.

"Yes, even you." Her big, dark eyes gaze down at me and I can see her resist the urge to ruffle my hair again. "Someday my son, you will find a girl that makes you act strange just like that. You'll feel weak and nervous and excited and anxious, so that you stumble over your feet and can't think of a single smart thing to say. Just like Jun with Akiko."

I snarl and my lip curls up to my nose. "But girls are so noisy and giggly and . . . and girly."

"You think that now, but that will change."

The salty sea brine of the fish wafts up into my face with the warm morning air. I don't often see the girls in my class and I don't especially like them. I suppose I don't hate them, but getting all goofy like Jun-san?

I don't think so.

"Why?" I finally ask, unable to get my mind to wrap around the concept.

Mama looks down at me, tilts her head, and considers. "Because that is how things are."

"Why?"

"So many questions today!" She chides. Then she looks off into the distance and sighs. "Because boys and girls belong together. And you will grow up and get married and have children of your own, and then one day you will have this same conversation with them."

Children of my own? Mama is weird. But then, I am only five, so it's possible I don't know everything yet. I screw up my face.

"Do I have to?"

Mama stops then, right there in the street and looks at me thoughtfully, her eyes very serious in a way I have never seen before.

"No," she says carefully. "You don't have to. But you probably will. It is how things are. I wouldn't go making up my mind about it just yet, if I were you. Chances are, you will meet a girl and get married one day."

The fish is soft and squishy within its brown paper packaging. I've never thought of any of these things before and they seem strange to me. But if I have to marry someone, "Then I'll marry you, Mama."

I can see by the pulled line of her mouth that she's trying not to laugh. She crouches down beside me and when she speaks, it is calm and sober. "No, Sasuke. I think it is best that you choose someone a bit closer to your age."

"But I like you best of all."

"Maybe right now." She brushes her hand over my cheek. "But like many things, that will change. So you wait for the girl who is the one made just for you."

"For me?" I ask, completely lost.

She nods. "You will know her because you will feel it from the tips of your fingers to the ends of your toes. You will feel it in your heart and your soul until you can't breathe or concentrate because every thought circles back to her so that you can scarcely think of anything else. It will seem like all the rest of the world simply disappears. Because all you see is her."

My eyebrows crush together over the space above my nose. I can't understand a thing she's saying.

"When you feel her presence in the flush of your blood, you will know. That is the girl for you. And you will marry her and start a family and be happy. That is my wish." Her thumb glides over my cheekbone. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama."

She smiles then, sweet and sad and knowing. "No you don't. But you will," she says sympathetically. "Come now. Let's not talk of such serious, faraway things anymore. We have a dinner to make for your father and brother."

She stands up then and reaches her hand towards me. Smiling brightly, I take it and though it is bigger than mine, it somehow always feels small, soft and delicate.

"O.K.," I tell her and we walk the remainder of the way in silence.

I still don't understand much of what Mama was telling me. I just can't picture it, any of it.

But then, I am only five.

And if Mama says so, then it must be true.

-----

On my return trip through the village to Kakashi's place, my feet splashing in the puddles of water, I notice how everyone is looking at me with some form of negativity: hatred or fear.  Or else conspicuously averting their gazes. It makes me feel like I’m in a freak show, an object of both curiosity and revulsion.

Shoving my free hand into my pocket, the one not carrying the useless umbrella, I pull my eyebrows together and stare ahead. But in my circular vision I can see them all. Eyes and not eyes, and all attention aimed towards me.

I do not like it.

//That's Konoha for you. Always ready to judge and never there when you need it.//

Each step I take feels like a conceded defeat that falls heavy in my soul.

I'm a ninja and he's a grocer.

I think I could've taken him.

All of their minds are made up.  They’re all like that.  All.  I owe them nothing.

Without really thinking about it, my hand strays over the bandage at my stomach, feeling the outline of it beneath my clothes.

His hands, rough and callused, were gentle when they put this here. And he helped me, without being asked and without demanding something in return. He is nothing like the rest of them.

My skin radiates heat through the layers of fabric.

He said "tomorrow."

//Ku-ku-ku.//

I shake my mind clear and drop my hand.  All there is for me is the street before me.

"Uchiha-san."

The voice is quiet and shy and through the constant murmur of villagers, it’s hard to distinguish. But I’m certain I heard it.  I come to a stop and turn around.

What meets me are wide colorless eyes, long dark hair and a nervous barely-there smile peeking over the bulging grocery bag she carries in her arms as if it were a child.

Crossing my arms sternly, I erase all emotion and look at her, daring her to make some remark about my present state. What other reason could she have for stopping me in the middle of the street?

I don't even know her.

"Hyuuga-san," I state flatly.

Her smile wavers a little and she clutches the bag a bit closer as though it is a shield that can protect her. Her shoulders rise and fall slowly with the intake of a long breath. Then she throws her head back defiantly and walks forward until planted directly in front of me. With a bit more force than I deem necessary, she shoves the bag into my face.

I quirk an eyebrow and look at her as if she’s gone insane.

She clears her throat quietly. "You w-wanted this, right?"

My eyebrow drops down until my face is a blank.

"I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," she says evenly, gathering her courage. "I expect you to pay for it."

I scan her up and down a moment, weighing her intentions.

"Why," I ask suspiciously, "would you do this?"

She bites her lower lip nervously. "I-I have my reasons," she says. "I will get something out of this. It's not an act of charity."

Yeah?  “And what’s that?”

Her delicate white fingers dig into the brown paper, crumpling the bag at the edges. "I don't know yet."

Interesting.  And not seemingly a lie.

For the moment I choose to trust her, hoping it is the correct decision, and slowly reach out to take the bag. It crinkles obnoxiously. She yanks her hands away quickly as though she had been holding a bomb.

Her smile is still shaky as she takes a step backward, her hands clutched girlishly behind her back. Then, rethinking her position, she scoots forward and juts out her hand palm up expectantly.

I smirk, but search my back pocket for the money.

She takes it silently, hastily pockets it, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You're not going to count it?" I ask wryly.

"No," she says.

"Hn." I admit I don't quite know what to make of this. She is veritable stranger, the two of us known to each other only by name and reputation.

"Don't expect this to happen again." I advise defensively. "I won't need any more help."

"No, I w-wouldn't think so."

My eye twitches convulsively and then with nothing more than a curious look to the doubly curious girl, I begin walking away.

"I'm glad you're here!" She yells to my retreating back and although louder, her voice is still small.

I incline my head to look back over my shoulder. "You don't know me."

"I kn-know. That's why I'm glad.”

Having nothing to reply, I adjust my stance so that I may see her more clearly.

The girl is twining her fingers anxiously, but when she catches my gaze, she quickly hides them behind her, a gentle pink flush flashing over her nose and cheeks. Her voice is a little less shaky.

"He tried with me," she says hesitantly. "And with Sakura." She then gives me a rueful smile. "With me, it was a disaster from the beginning. With Sakura . . ." Her mouth twists into a partial frown. "Well, that was unfortunate. But th-that's why I'm glad you're here."

I don't know why she’s telling me this, but the idea of “he” and “tried” cuts through my ribcage like a knife.

"See, I want to understand."

This cryptic pronouncement is the only thing she says before giving me another shy smile, the blush lingering over her cheeks.

"Understand what?" I ask.

But she doesn’t answer. She just tips her head, bows slightly and turns around, leaving me alone, awash in a sea of unfriendly faces and on a path to a home that isn't mine.

-----

My mind is filled with confusion and anger, the two emotions battling it out fiercely in the open landscape of my thoughts. I haven't the faintest idea what it is that Hyuuga Hinata wants to "understand" or what it is she expects from me.

My brain is too muddled with Naruto “trying” and irritated that I should be concerned with it at all.

//There is a simple answer, my pet.//

'I don't care to listen to the ranting of a madman.'

//You do not like the truth.//

'Shut up.'

//So jealous all the time. Of Itachi, for Itachi. Of Naruto, for Nar . . .//

'That's enough.'

//Ku-ku-ku.//

What Naruto and I have goes beyond any simple friendship or brotherhood, and certainly beyond any thing those girls could have had with him. He is mine. My friend, my rival, my reason . . .

//"My", "my", "my". You are so jealous; you are positively green with it.//

And why not?

Crushed eggs leak out the side of the shabby shelter of the paper bag on account of my jealousy.

I'm selfish, I already know that and I don't care.

Naruto is mine.  He was all I had for a long time.  Everyone hated him, including me, until I hated him so much he became my best friend.  Even then, I’m the one who trained with him, fought with him, ate with him long before any of them would even acknowledge his existence, let alone call him "friend".

I was here first.

That ought to count for something.

So yeah, I'm jealous.

What's so wrong with that?

Absently, I walk over to a garbage can to sort out the broken eggs. When I look up, it is with an acute sense of dread when I realize where I am. Letting the bag lie where it is, I drag myself forward as if in a trance.

Slowly, I walk down the street, remembering each dilapidated building when it was still new and hearing the voices of people who have long since stopped speaking. I see them everywhere, the ghosts of home and family that have haunted me all these years.

In the center of it all, I come across the simple stone slab that I used to pore over so often all the days of my childhood. My hand reaches out, the fingers tracing the names etched into rock and memory for no one but me. Auntie, uncle, cousin, mother, father. All Uchiha, all dead, all liars.

"They knew." Itachi's voice. "They knew and never told anyone so that they could remain innocent. Tell me, little brother, what sort of ninja is that?"

But I have no better an answer now than I did then.

//And you are no different.//

I am different. I never hid my intentions from anyone. Yet they sit named here, bearing an innocence they did not merit.

But that is also unfair.  The  worst crime they committed was keeping a secret.

But they are my family and I cared for them and no matter what the circumstances, they didn’t deserve to die.

My fingers glide lightly over the name Uchiha Mikoto and my heart gives a little lurch. How could I ever, ever hate her?

How could Itachi?

But these are pointless questions.

I should never have come here, to Konoha, to this cursed place. I should have dumped Naruto at the hospital door and fled, disappeared into the night before they had the chance to realize I was here.

That would have been better.

But I couldn’t.

I pick up the abandoned bag and walk away, hoping to leave this tainted past behind and knowing I never will.

-----

"Sasuke dear, could you come here please?"

I hop from my bed and race into the kitchen to find my mother hefting a large laundry basket over to the table.

"Mo-om," I immediately whine, having hoped for some insane reason that she was asking for help with something important, rather than simply with chores.

"Do not whine, dear. It is unbecoming." She chastises me with an atypical tightness to her lip. "Can you get the other basket, please?"

Dutifully, I rush over and pick up the smaller tub, overflowed with fabric, in my diminutive hands. I carry it over to the table and look with interest at the multitude of clothes fresh from drying.

"What's all this for?" I am genuinely curious. "These look like fancy things and today's nobody's birthday or anything."

"Ah, but I want everyone to look their best." She smiles curiously down at me. "Your brother made jounin today."

I'm so surprised that I nearly drop the basket and stare at my mother with eyes grown wide. In the nick of time I recapture the basket and slide it down carefully beside mother's.

"Really?" I ask excitedly, although my jubilation cools quickly to worry and quicker still to depression.

"Yes," Mother laughs, though it sounds a bit false. "The youngest one this year." Then she sobers. "What's wrong?"

"Father must be very proud of him," I reply dejectedly.

Mother's hand is soothing as she rubs it through my hair. "He's proud of you, too."

"No he's not." I kick at a nonexistent stone and trudge to the other side of the room for no other reason except that I can.

"You must never say that." Mother kneels down behind me, and her gentle, familiar presence fills up all the empty space like the heat from a fire. I pick at a loose piece of wood on a lower cabinet drawer. "How many times have I told you how often he speaks of you when we are alone?" She rubs her hand along my shoulder. "He thinks very highly of you."

"He never talks to me. Never has time for me." I say it flatly, hiding any unnecessary hurt I feel. It is only a fact, so I school my tone after Father's and Itachi's. Emotionless, strong, professional.

"I don't like it when you talk like that." The words form a rebuke, but her voice aches with regret.

I turn to her and her hand falls to her knee.

She looks at me a moment, a little sad, but then that secret smile forms over her face.

I can't help but smile back.

"But I'll bet you don't have talks like this with Itachi, do you?" I give her a sly look.

"No," she says with a sadness I don't understand. "I don't."

I pout, not knowing what to do.

I want Mama to be happy. She's looks much better with a smile.

"Don't worry, Mama," I proclaim defiantly. "I'll make you proud too. You'll see. I'll make jounin and be just like Itachi-nii-san."

I grin widely at her, certain that my aspirations will lift her spirits.

Her lip trembles slightly and then she throws her arms around my tiny shoulders and I think "success!" I know how to make everything better.

I will be a prodigy like my brother.

I will be among the best of the Uchiha.

Then Itachi and I will train together and Father will acknowledge me.

And Mama will be happy.

But the small shake in Mama's shoulders and the way she holds me tells me that she's crying. I raise my hands to her back, as if my minuscule, insignificant hands could give her any kind of comfort.

"I'll make you proud," I assure her, because I don't know why she's crying. "I'll be just like Itachi."

Her body convulses minutely and it seems like such a long while passes that all the clothes must have gone threadbare before she speaks again.

"No, Sasuke," she rasps through her watery throat. "You stay just as you are. Do what makes you happy, not what other people want."

She smoothes her hand repeatedly over my hair and then kisses the side of my head.

"You just stay my sweet little boy."

-----

I am weary and overtired by the time I arrive at Kakashi's apartment, for little reason other than that reliving the past is exhausting. I feel like going to sleep and never waking up.

"Hey, teme! Where've you been? You're late! I've been here forever!"

Naruto scowls down at me from the building door, scolding as if any of this is my fault.

So, I guess this is what he meant by “tomorrow”.

In truth, much as I hate to admit it, the sight of him and makes my whole body feel lighter.

Instead of showing this, I just walk up to the door and unlock it, saying, "How can I be late when I never knew you were coming?"

Stepping past him, I make my way inside, leaving the door open in an unspoken invitation that he quickly takes. Using his foot to close the door, he rushes in and begins anxiously circling around me, peeking into my grocery sack as if he intends to find some sort of hidden treasure.

Ignoring him, I begin storing the items, many of which I have to wrest from Naruto's hands since he has mysteriously chosen to inspect them. Apparently he has never seen a cabbage before.

"How come you only have seven eggs? I wish I could get just seven eggs. A dozen is so many . . ."

Snatching the offensive carton mid-sentence, I duck my head into the refrigerator to put it away and to hide my slight coloring. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh!" he yips excitedly and runs off to pick up a couple packages I hadn't seen him bring in. "I told you I'd see you," he goes on. "So I brought lunch. Though you were so long in getting here, it's more like lupper."

"Lupper?" I ask, putting the last of the things away.

"Yeah," he says brightly. "It's a little too late for lunch, but too early for supper, so 'lupper.'"

I look disgustedly at him then take a seat at the table he's sitting at.

"Hey, be nice." He's wearing a little pout. Then, without skipping a beat, he claps his hands together and with a big grin yells, "Itadakimasu!"

And with a great deal on fanfare, he rips into his bag and pulls out a still steaming bowl of his favorite food.

"I don't really like ramen," I tell him, dropping my chin in my hand.

"I know." He lifts the other bag toward me, not stopping in his frantic consumption. "That's for me. This is for you."

Raising my eyebrow skeptically, I take the small, nondescript brown bag and look inside.

Tomatoes.

A whole bag of small, bright red tomatoes.

I look up at him with a bored, questioning expression. "Tomatoes?"

He stops eating to glance at me earnestly. "It's the only thing I could remember you like. I picked the best ones. You're really difficult to shop for, y'know." He sticks out his lower lip.

I shake my head. "Idiot."

"Hey! Be more appreciative! I didn't have much money! I didn't have to spend it on you. I could've gotten myself more ramen."

A sick feeling settles down to the depth my stomach and I look back down to the little tomato cluster staring up at me mournfully.

"What happened to your savings?"

There is a very pregnant pause.

"They took it."

His reply is so detached that I have to look at him. His eyes are downcast, staring into his ramen as the steam rises slowly up to his face and the chopsticks lay unused at the side.

"They took it," he repeats quietly. "To pay for . . ."

"They took mine, too." I cut him off before he can continue.

His head snaps up and a somewhat shocked expression replaces the sad one. "I didn't know you had any savings."

"I don't really. But the Uchiha clan did."

He blinks his eyes stupidly before rushing headlong into outrage. "But that's family money! They can't take that."

I shrug.

Naruto gazes down into his bowl again and disinterestedly pokes at it with his chopsticks. "What are you paying for anyway? I'm the one that ruined . . ."

"For all the shinobi sent to search for me." He needs to stop doing that.

His nose bunches up and he turns thoughtful, his hands halfway poised in the bowl. "Then that means," he starts dubiously, "That you're paying me with the same money I'm paying them. So, in a way, they're only getting half as much as they think. Why do they bother at all?"

I'm not quite sure that makes sense, dobe.

But then he plasters on that annoying fake smile I hate and says, "I mean, I understand taking my wages for reconstruction, but why yours, too? I mean, if you think about it, they wouldn't be paying you anyway, so . . ." He laughs, very awkwardly.

I hate when he does this, I really do. "It's my fault."

His eyes go wide.

"It's not your fault!" Distress etches into every facet of his face. He looks back down into his bowl, the ramen it contains already forgotten. "You told me not to and I did anyway. I know it was the stupid thing to do, but I, I didn't want to see that; I couldn't. He would have destroyed you Sasuke, and this time I'm not sure you could've been brought back." He wipes his sleeve messily across his face. "I couldn't let that happen. Not after everything we went through. And I just ended up trading one mistake for another. But I couldn't lose you, Sasuke. Not again. Not for anything."

And there are no words to say, none that I can find through the muffled sounds of his sniffling or the tears that fall in heavy droplets into his bowl, salting it more than is necessary.

My heart aches with a guilt I have always hidden because it is so much less complicated that way. I know that it is my fault, all of it. Maybe I don't regret it exactly, but I accept that it is there now.

He looks so miserable and I can only think of my mother, Mikoto. When I looked like that, for far less great a reason, she would fold me in her arms and smooth my hair and hum quiet words to soothe me.

I want to do the same for him, I think, though the thought is a new and strange one. Part of me wishes I could be that different person. But I can’t. It’s so far beyond the walls of what I have become that I can't even recognize it. And even if part of me wants to do something, the fact of the matter is, I can’t make my body move.  I wish I could say it's because of Itachi's betrayal, or the loss of my family of the emptiness left when no one was there to comfort me.

But it is none of these things.

I can't do it because I can't.

'What, no snide comments from the captive audience?'

But the audience remains silent and that is somehow worse.

I swallow and cautiously reach my hand over to his across the table.  His crying stops with a short hiccupping gasp. The tension in his hand eases as he looks over to it and, very carefully, I thread my fingers through his and give it a light squeeze.

He raises his head and after a moment, gives me the smile I prefer, one that is true and honest and perhaps I can do something after all.

His digs back into his ramen as if his hunger has instantly returned, polishing it off and pulling out another from his bag, all one-handed because he refuses to let go of mine.

And the only thing I think, much as I did so long ago in Sound, is that I don't want to let go of this hand.

I don't want to know why.

But then Naruto does let go so he can attack his lunch with more enthusiasm. And that's all right because I need not hold his hand physically to still have it.

It looks like there might be yet another bowl in Naruto's bag.

Three bowls of ramen to a bag of tomatoes.

Dobe.

I take a bite of tomato, acid and juicy and ripe, and look at Naruto's big grin overflowing with noodles.

I have spent worse lunches.

Chapter Text

There is no warning this time when she jabs the needle into my arm. The injection feels a little different from the last time; I only sense the punch of the needle, the warmth of the liquid and nothing more. Mechanically, she slaps a bandage on so hard that it stings.

Sakura neither asks nor explains as she lifts my arm, her fingers digging into the skin, and rotates the shoulder painfully. I grunt and my brow creases briefly before returning to its normal state.

She clucks her tongue disapprovingly at me. "Stand up."

I glare at her, not in the mood for this.

"Wipe that look off your face," she says as she leans towards me. "I'm not going to do anything weird, I promise. I just need to check your injuries."

My scowl grows deeper. With that expression, there's no denying who her teacher is.

Another minute of staring down at me passes before she grabs my shoulders in a futile attempt to pull me up. Without thinking, I clamp my hand on her neck and shove her back, making her stagger clumsily and crash into the short table. Gathering her dignity, she crosses her arms and taps her foot, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"Fine, then. Do it yourself."

I stare at her, my hand still at her throat, and do not back down.

Somehow, her eyebrow lifts higher.

The pace of her tapping foot increases.

With a grumble, I get to my feet with my discarded shirt clutched tightly between my fingers, and glare down at her.

"Well?" I ask irritably.

After a few seconds, she blinks. Then, with a very nervous cough, she clears the fog from her eyes, grits her jaw and makes her expression go flat.

Her hands are a bit cold and clammy when she applies pressure to my injured ribs. I inhale deeply in an attempt to calm myself, repeating over and over that this is Sakura. My breathing becomes slow and regulated and is like a metronome in my head, keeping me firmly under its control. At my sides, my fingers clench and unclench in a therapeutic habit.

I'm going to have to get use to this.

Not being able to deal with this is . . .

//Pitiful.//

Yes, I know. Shut up.

Then the kunoichi adjusts her hands to check another fracture, poking and prodding and in all ways anything but gentle.

She is upset.

She pushes her fingers especially hard onto one of my cracked ribs and I utter a flat "Ow".

Her hands immediately stop and she pulls her body away with such force that she almost misses the table she's trying to land on.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sputters, looking down to the floor and raising her hands in a placating manner.

The rib throbs a bit more than usual.

As I watch, she drops one hand to her lap and with a massive, exasperated sigh, kneads the other into her temple.

It appears she is not actually mad at me. I hope she keeps whatever it is to herself; I have enough problems of my own.

"How do . . ." she starts.

I am so unlucky.

"How do you stand it?" Her teeth are gritted, much in the same way her fingers dig into her scalp.

I wait for her explanation, but she doesn’t offer one. "What?" I venture.

"What?" She yells. "Them!" Sakura throws up her head and waves her hand irrationally at the window. "How can you stand them?"

Ah, I see. I give a complacent tilt of my head.

She scowls at me. "Oh, you're just as exasperating! You're probably just too stubborn to let it get to you."

Her lips purse tightly until they are white without blood. "How am I supposed to treat you properly?" she asks, her voice pitched with irritation to an unnatural level. She begins to flail her arms erratically. "With all these people watching? And with all these damn restrictions? It's ridiculous!"

I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her curse.

Suddenly, she stomps over to the window and slides it open with such vehemence that the glass cracks.

Planting her hands firmly on her hips, she shouts out into the air. "We can all sense you, you know! I thought ANBU were supposed to stay hidden!"

Maybe she forgets how much strength she has because when she slams the window shut, it vibrates for a second before the remaining glass shatters free and rains down onto the floor.

Her pink hair flies up playfully, but her pinched eyes show not even a hint of amusement.

Neither does the vein pulsing in her forehead.

"They want us to know they're there," I tell her blankly.

She gives me an especially nasty look and walks back to me, her expression changing by degrees the closer she gets.

Her eyes rove my chest, but distantly, and she absentmindedly skims her fingers over the bandage at my belly. My heart pounds a harsh alarm and I seize her wrist, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"So you saw Naruto," she says.

My hold slackens, letting the blood flow back to her hand.

//Saw him indeed. You can't seem to think of anything else.//

I scowl.

She lifts her gaze to me and the green of her eyes glows brightly. "How was he?"

I release her hand, but it still hovers oddly in the air as if stuck there.

"How do you know I saw him?"

The brightness of her eyes dims to a soft jade as she smiles this small, sad, gentle smile.

"I recognize his work."

Finally, her hand drops down to hang like a dead weight at her side. Her head tilts slightly so she can gaze at a nowhere spot somewhere in the corner of the room.

"Well, I'm the one who taught him, aren't I?"

But is a question asked of her self and not intended for answer.

She sighs once more and combs her fingers shakily through her short hair.

'He tried with Sakura.'

I grind my teeth, the jealousy gnawing like a thousand insects at the marrow of my bones.

Oblivious, she waves her hand dismissively. "I don't even know why I'm here."

Taking her gesture as a signal, I hurriedly pull the shirt over my head, a comforting barrier, and feel a bit better.

And bitter.

'It's your fault I'm like this.'

//My dear boy, you were well on your way long before I got you.//

Sakura drops herself on the table while I take the more properly intended couch.  She stares off silently into a non-existent distance for a long time before turning to me.

"He's been such a crybaby lately." I don't need to ask whom she's talking about. "I swear, the tears come out at the drop of a hat." She slumps her shoulders, resting her elbows on her knees, looking more like a boy than the well-behaved lady she pretends to be. "Ever since he came back, he's pretending a lot more and doing a worse job of it. Have you noticed?"

I shrug, unconcerned. "He's depressed."

I duck, narrowly evading the fist aimed for my head.

"Of course he's depressed!" She shrieks, her voice way too high as she stands up. She stamps her foot and I hear the recognizable sound of wood splintering. "Do you know how much of the town was destroyed? How many people were killed?"

I shake my head; I'd rather not be reminded.

She frowns. "Well, Naruto knows, doesn't he? So does everyone else in the village. If you think they hated him before, you should take a good look at it now. They blame him.  As if he doesn’t do enough of that himself."

My brow furrows and I look away.

I had known it would be that way, known but still hoped it would be better; that it would be different.

That they would understand the difference between Naruto and Kyuubi.

//Silly boy.//

Maybe.

"It's not his fault," I say, a mixture of anger and guilt.

Sakura falls into a crouch before me and places a gentle hand on my knee. It feels a little weird, but it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would.

"Everyone who knows him knows that." She smiles. "At least there are more of those than we thought. But as for the others . . . The only reason he's still here is because of Tsunade-shishou.  She can be very formidable when she wants to be."

No kidding.

She shakes her head and when she stops, her expression turns dark. "If not for that damn Akatsuki . . . Well, at least they're gone now, right?"

Yes, but the truth of what he, my long-lost brother, did, of Naruto and of me, remains a devoutly kept secret.

And that's precisely as it should be.

Except I know that . . .

"It's my fault."

I don't realize I've spoken aloud until Sakura's head snaps up. She narrows her eyes. "Then do something about it."

Looking to her, my pupils expand almost to ovals just shy of normal. "What am I supposed to do?”

Sakura’s eye twitches and she digs her fingernails into my skin before bolting to the other side of the room.

// Why must you cling to that useless kindness of yours? It will be your downfall, my pet. Mark my words.//

'I cling to nothing.'

//Hmmm . . .//

I don't.

With her hands fisted at her sides, Sakura flips her head back and shouts to the wall, "Why are boys such IDIOTS?"

I'm surprised she didn't make a hole in it.

In an instant, she hurtles back toward me, her hands gripping my shoulders and shoving me into the springy cushions of the couch. They swell around me as I scowl at her.

"You figure it out," she grinds through her teeth, burning with fury. "You're the only one that can. You still don't understand how much he missed you, or what he went through. No, you were too concerned with your brother and your revenge to be bothered with any of us. But you, for some stupid, mysterious reason, are the only one who can make him happy. Everyone else has tried, but it always, always, always comes back to you."

One side of her mouth turns down and she blinks furiously.

There is something off in what she's saying, but I can't quite figure it out.

The next words weigh like defeat. "Just cheer him up, OK?"

'He tried with Sakura . . .'

I am conflicted, those four simple words racing circles in my head, wanting to know and wanting to pretend I never heard them.

Even so, I hear her words too.  I’m the last person who should be given the responsibility.  Even I know that.

Yet I’ll try.

Just so I can see him . . .

//See him indeed.//

My eyes thin to slits.

'Why can't you just go away?'

//Oh, but Sasuke-kun, your life is sooo fascinating.//

Sakura gently pokes my knee with her forefinger

"Hm?"

"I said, I heard you had some trouble in town."

She’s still here.

My eyes flash red a moment and Sakura smiles, unaffected.

"What do you mean?" I ask, disinterested.

The girl closes her eyes briefly when she shrugs and I can't help feeling like she's playing some sort of game.

"I heard you couldn't buy groceries."

My eyes constrict along with the pupils they contain and my jaw pulls taut. This is not the way to behave after asking a favor.

"Oh," I say nonchalantly. "And where did you hear this?"

"Hinata."

The Hyuuga girl. 

//Did you expect her to be any different?//

Catch me in an embarrassing situation and then exploit it for fun?

//All of Konoha, all the same.//

Did I make a mistake in trusting her?

//How many times must I tell you? Trust no one but yourself. Konoha villagers are all the same. Selfish, manipulating, short-sighted, small-minded . . .//

". . gossiping little . . ."

The echo of the slap rebounds harshly on the flimsy walls of the apartment.

"Don't you ever say that!"

I narrow my eyes, the sting of the hit still resonating over my skin.

I didn’t know I was thinking that, let alone spoke it aloud.

Shifting my gaze, I look at Sakura through the fringe of my long dark bangs. Her face is flushed red with her eyes glinting dangerously. The hand that struck me continues to tremble.

"Hinata only told me," she says, struggling for control, "Because she was worried and thought I should know." Her eyes still glow brightly. "She didn't tell anyone else."

I continue to glare at her behind my curtain of hair.

"Don't ever talk about her that way again." Sakura's tone leaves no room for question, threatening in a way I've never heard before.

“Fine," I say.

//Admitting you are wrong? Tch-tch-tch.//

'That was more you than me anyway.'

Although that's a far more unsettling thought.

Sakura holds my stare for a while and then nods. I’ll keep my word. Carefully, Sakura lifts her hand and gently cups my throbbing cheek. I do nothing.

"You deserved that, you know," she states quietly.

"Hn." She is being too nice.

Gently, she slides her hand up to grace it over the cut through my eyebrow and then over the one on my eye making it spasm slightly.

"You know," she starts awkwardly. "These are probably part of the reason people shy away from you. You look awful."

I grumble vaguely.

She continues to trace her fingers lightly over the scars, her eyes going hazy and I get the feeling she's not looking at me anymore.

"I could fix these for you."

"Leave them."

Her head drops away, followed by her hand, and with a quiet acquiescence, she stands up. She flings her pack over her shoulder and heads to the door. Her skirt makes a quiet rustling sound when she wipes her hands over it to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles.

She's making a new and fairly obvious point not to look at me.

"So," she begins, still brushing her skirt. "I'm going to visit Ino."

The silence stretches out uncomfortably between us.

Sakura's hands have stopped and now rest stupidly on her thighs as her eyes wearily meet mine.

It seems she has come to a decision.

"Would you like to come?" She sounds uncertain.

"Has Naruto seen her yet?" The words are out before my mind has fully formed them.

"No."

My mouth pulls taut.

The idiot.

I look to the window now empty of glass. A breeze carries a few leaves inside the room and deposits them onto the floor. Sakura has been very destructive today.

I stand and turn to her as she waits with an anxious yet hopeful look on her face.

"Fine," I say. "But I want to stop someplace first."

-----

The Yamanaka Flower House is no more.

What stands where it once was does a poor rendition of standing. There is rubble circling it, black and crumbled, and ash flies into the air with each piece that is tossed outside. The roof has caved in, letting sunlight slip through the crack and making the inside of the shop nearly as bright as the out.

The rest of the street looks very much the same.

A piece of the flower shop goes careening over the front wall to land in front of Sakura and I with a loud thump.

Sakura looks over and smiles a little stiffly.

That's when voices from the wreckage carry out to us in street.

"No, no, not there. Move that over there. Yeah, that's better. Umm . . " Ino. Bossy but shaky, a little strained.

"Aww. I know I said I'd help out, but I haven't eaten since morning. When's my break?" Chouji. Whiny and worried, but trying to sound upbeat.

An indistinct grumble. Shikamaru. It's hard to tell what his mood is since he didn't actually say anything.

Instinctively, Sakura grabs my hand with what it intended to be encouragement and smiles at me in a way that looks she's about to be sick. "Ready?"

No, not really.

I nod gravely.

She squeezes my hand for a moment before letting go and then walks toward what I am guessing was once the door. I follow.

"Hello Ino!" Sakura yells with unconvincing brightness.

I guess they are getting along now. In a way, they remind me of Naruto and me, when I really think about it. And I have lots of room to think because the place has gone deathly quiet.

The look Ino shoots me could fry an egg.

"What is he doing here?" She barely gets the words out.

"Um, well," Sakura fidgets like a little girl, casting anxious glances between the two of us. "I just thought that . . ."

"Get him out." Ino's mouth is still hardly open, the statement jammed between her teeth.

"No, but, Ino . . ." Sakura can't seem to figure out what to say. Did she even think anything through before coming here?

The glare I'm receiving is formidable, but I’m not intimidated.

I am no coward. I do not back down.

And I came here with a purpose.

So, picking my way through the debris, I approach the blonde girl wordlessly. From the corner, I see a deep scowl mar a normally pleasant face as Chouji chomps forcefully on a bag of chips.

It takes a while for me to cross the distance, both because it's precarious and because everyone's watching.

The atmosphere crackles around me, blistered with hostility.

Ino doesn’t back up or move at all, only keeps her furious eyes on me until I stand but a meter away.

She raises an angry eyebrow in challenge.

"Can we talk?" I ask plainly, fighting to remain polite.

She doesn’t retort or yell or do anything besides stand there.

Everything has gone eerily quiet from so many people holding their breath.

Ino looks not at all inclined to change her mind.

I hate this, it feels way too much like groveling, but I made a promise to myself. I need to know where things stand. Not with me, on that score I couldn't care less. But for Naruto . . .

I barely force the word out, a mere grating whisper, yet it rings like a shot in the silence.

"Please."

I think I hurt my jaw.

The crinkling of the chip bag ceases and Sakura lets out a short gasp.

The pale blue eyes shrink slightly and then the girl begins laboriously making her way to a doorway shaped patch of sunshine in the back of the room.

I wait, not quite sure what I’m meant to do.

Ino stops and grips her hand on the broken-down counter for balance.

"Coming or not?" She spits out venomously.

She continues towards the door and, taking my cue, I follow.

The back porch of the flower shop seems oddly untouched, the sun bathing the small plot of grass much like it would any other day. Ino is sitting on the steps, looking angrily up to the sky.

After a moment, I sit down beside her.

I imagine Ino would be relieved, as would I, if I changed my mind and simply got up and walked away. But I cannot do that. She has given me this chance and it would be a crime to waste it.

I take a deep breath and just dive in.

"Have you spoken with Naruto yet?"

"No." Her answer is short, but her bottom lip is quivering.

"Are you going to?"

"What's it to you whether I do or not?" She says crossly.

I pause.

What is it to me?

I grip my knee and feel the raggedness of my nails scratch through the fabric.

"He," I chew the inside of my cheek, not knowing how to phrase this. "It wasn't him."

There's a moment's silence then, "I'm not an idiot." Her voice still has that strained, held-back quality. "I know the difference between Naruto and the Nine-tails."

Emboldened, I look at her. "Will you see him?"

She inhales shakily. "Knowing the difference and being able to deal with it are two completely different things, now aren't they?"

"But," I start sharply. "You don't blame him." It is halfway between a question and a statement.

Her head turns so slowly in my direction that it's scary. "No," she says. "I blame you."

The fury, the smoldering hatred that ignites her eyes multiplies tenfold.

I continue to stare.

"I. blame. you." Her words are harsh and defined and I know that the outbreak is coming.

It happens faster than I expected and she is up to her feet, her face a splotchy red. "You. You and your brother. The 'noble and gifted clan'." She snorts. "If it weren't for your kind, none of us would have had to go through this. We would still have homes. We could all be living our lives the way we used to. And my," she chokes up momentarily here. "My parents would still be alive!" She shakes her head irritably, her long hair flying. "No, I know whose fault it is. The Uchihas!" She hurls the word like an epithet. "Crazy older brother and self-righteous younger! We were better without you! All of this is your fault! It's a good thing the rest of the Uchihas are already dead." She drops her voice to a pitiless whisper. "Or else I'd kill them myself."

"Ino!" Sakura's shout cuts through the condemnation as she rushes onto the steps.

But I put my hand up and she halts with a sudden jerk.

I look at Ino for a moment, her face flushed, her eyes on fire with tears that cling to the corners. Everything about her posture screams of barely holding back.  She knows she can’t beat me, even as I am, but soon even that knowledge won’t be enough.

There is pain in my long locked away heart at the cruel reminder of all I have lost and all I have done.  And there is that familiar coiling, the twisting and churning of rage that begs to be let loose. It takes all my will to hold it in check.

This is not about me.

In a strange way, at this precise moment in time, Ino actually understands me better than anyone else, though she doesn’t realize it. She is now the mirror image of my childhood self.

And I find somehow that I don't hate her.

She was insignificant in my life so her hatred can have little bearing on me.

//As does her life. Let us release some of the sweltering rage, my pet. Stop denying it . . .//

I let the sharingan spin down.

My insignificant parasite scoffs.

This is how it should be.

I walk past Sakura to the doorway.

"Sasuke." Sakura's whisper lingers in the heated air.

I put my hand to the doorframe and lower my head. "Just," I say, gripping the charred wood tight, causing some of it to crumble under the pressure. "Don't hate him."

Then I walk one way even as Sakura scampers the other. The only sounds I can differentiate from the incoherent mumbling of the girls are Ino's resolute "no" and "never".

I make my way back through the remnants of the toppled building.  Burnt pieces of shelving hurtle towards me as Chouji throws them over his shoulder without even looking.

When I finally march outside, I take a large weary breath and start to cough.

I look in the direction of the curling smoke and see Shikamaru lounging on the ground; his head tilted back to the sky and a cigarette sticking up from his mouth.

"When did you start smoking?" I ask.

He doesn't acknowledge me, only takes a long drag from his cigarette.  Not really interested anyway, I step into the street.

There is a disgusted sigh.

"Have you ever played shougi?"

I tilt my head to look at him, but if weren't for the fact that we're the only two here, I wouldn't have known he'd spoken.

"Yes," I answer carefully. "But not since I was a boy."

"Ah." He takes the cigarette from his mouth and blows a thick cloud of smoke into the air.

A long while passes before he says, "In Konoha, who would you say is the king?"

"The king?" I repeat.

He puts the cigarette back to his mouth. "Yeah, the king." He cracks an eye to look at me for the first time. "Tell me who the king is, and I'll tell you why I smoke.”

Chapter Text

The apartment is silent. As the grave, as they say.

I am sitting at the kitchen table, watching the sun slowly dip down behind the forest, painting the sky in purple and red. I wait and tap a shuriken repeatedly on the wood.

Tap-tap-tap.

Hours have passed since I first sat here, hours of revelation, hours of seething irritation.

But I can be patient.

I can be very, very patient. I have learned this.

While out with Sakura I hired a handyman to fix the damaged floor and window.  He checked the bathtub, too.  He was very thorough.

It's getting dark now and I begin to wonder if my roommate knows I know and is now avoiding coming home. Yeah, I doubt that.

I wait.

I can be patient, oh yes, but I am not a patient person.

Blood trickles from a cut in my left hand. I am gripping the shuriken too tightly. I only know there’s a cut because I see the blood.

There is no pain.

I drum the metal against the table.

//How very entertaining.//

Tap-tap-tap.

//It is rather fun to watch you get all wound up.//

The kitchen has gone dark.

//And what are we planning to do, hmm?//

There is now a small patch of crimson seeping into the table.

//Kill him and make your escape?//

I drop the shuriken flat, covering it with my spread fingers.

'That is your plan, not mine. I have already killed the one I wanted to.' Bile rises to the back of my throat but I force the acid down, pressing my hand harder into the cold metal. 'I don't want to kill anymore.'

Just then, I hear the sound of a key entering a lock. The door opens, a light flicks on, and a head peeks inside.

"I’m-"

The shuriken whips by his cheek, making a dull thud when it lodges into the wall.

"-home!" Kakashi finishes, unruffled.

He enters the room and shuts the door, leaving the weapon in the wall as if it were never there.

"So, Sasuke, what are you doing, sitting in the kitchen in the dark, hmm?" he says, standing lazily on the other side of the table. "Waiting for me?"

I was, of course. But, indicating a pile on the table, I ask, "What is this?"

Kakashi does not move a muscle. "Looks like trash."

My head is throbbing painfully. Delicately, I lift a corner of the rag nearest me. "Do you know where I found it?"

Nonplussed, he answers, "In the bathtub drain?"

My eye twitches.  He is a child. The small bit of fabric slips from my fingers and falls noiselessly to the table. "And why would you get an apartment with an actual bath and then clog the pipes so it doesn't work?"

"Maa-maa, Sasuke. You sound like a father." Kakashi hoists himself to the table, setting his feet on the chair in front of him, and whips out his favorite Icha Icha book.

And I realize that I do sound like my father. Angrily, I drop my chin to my hand and stare at the window, but it only shows me my reflection.

"You are far too easy to trick, Sasuke."

//You are, you know.//

I glare at Kakashi in the glass.

"You wanted to see him, didn't you?" He is very calm.

I shift my eyes to look directly at him and say nothing.

"Naruto, of course." His visible eye is a happy crescent that somehow watches me.

He places a hand on my head as if I am a child, and smiles. I bat the offending thing away.

"Don't be so stubborn." he chides in a friendly manner. "I knew you would never do it of your own free will."

He sighs dramatically and leans his head back to look to the ceiling as if beseeching god for guidance.

"And what did you do? Tell Naruto that I would be there?" I accuse, half jokingly.

"No," he says. "I told Iruka."

I get to my feet, the chair making a horrible scraping sound as it pushes out behind me. My fingers grip the edge of the table, one of them smearing a trail of blood into a deep red line.

"I am not some thing you can mess with."

Kakashi turns to me, that rare serious look on his face. "You always feel better after you see him."

I scowl. "Don't play around with my life."

Kakashi looks at me a long time before responding.

"You'll get it all wrong if I don't."

There is not a trace of mockery or jest in his statement. He truly believes it.

And that, of all things, does not give him the right. If he had wanted to make sure I "didn't get it wrong", he should have done something before.

It's too late now.

"It will be how I decide it." I promise him.

And when I turn to go to my room, I see him shaking his head disgustedly, whispering, "When are you going to get it?"

----

Kakashi's words ring prophetic.

Sort of.

I didn't see Naruto yesterday and then I didn’t sleep well.

Or at all.

I just tossed and turned and nearly strangled myself with the sheets, a battle interrupted only intermittently by the checking of the clock.

11:23 am.

12:04 am.

1:16 am.

At 1:42 am, I decide I may as well give up the fruitless fight and attempt to do something productive.

I get up to take a walk.

At 1:42 am, Konoha is deathly quiet. The streets are dark for the most part, pinpointed only by the smoky lights cast by the few establishments that thrive on late night customers.

A fair number of drunken miscreants stumble to and fro and with fake, scantily clad women draped over their arms.

I pass them by without blinking.

While I walk, I keep all my senses attuned to my surroundings; testing how many people I can pick up on my internal radar.

But my radar, such as it is, seems a little off. I am overtired from no sleep and Kakashi's words have the annoying tendency to revisit my mind at the precise moment I am trying to avoid them.

What exactly did he mean by all that? 'You'll get it wrong' he says, as if he has the faintest clue what "right" would be for me. He needs to stop interfering in my life; it’s getting old fast.

'You always feel better after you see him.'

That doesn’t mean anything special.

I'm just used to him, that's all.

We spent a lot of time stuck together when I was hunting Itachi, and that was only because the dobe refused to leave me alone. It’s just habit.

Nothing more.

//Ku-ku-ku. Still such a child, dear Sasuke-kun.//

I need to stop thinking about it.

Kakashi, sadistic as he is, just likes to mess with my head,; I can’t let it get to me.

//But he does. They all do.//

Now I'm annoying myself.

Quite a few ninja are out and about this night, if one knows how to look. Some leap over the rooftops, a popular mode of transit, bringing missives to and from Hokage Tower, the one place of supposed repute that is still lit. Several more are crowded in alleyways and side streets, whispering secrets and intently watching the people, mostly me, who stroll by.

I close my eyes.

At the very edges of my perception, I get a vague glimmer of something, of hidden shinobi. I've always been good at that, I think. Only, it wasn't this strong or precise before, not until Orochimaru . . .

Anyway, there are three.

Three ANBU are shadowing me, their wayward charge, as I wander the night out of boredom.

Naruto could be out there too, wondering like me what Konoha can possibly have left to offer.

I stop for a moment and stare up at the stars.

Then I grimace and head back.

-----

When the clock strikes 8 o'clock, I wake again from a fitful, unproductive, and very short sleep, filled with stupid, pointless memories.

I stretch and yawn and get dressed, ruffling my hand through my hair as I step into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead!"

Ok, let's review.

Number 1: No one has any business being that cheery in the morning.

Number 2: What did I say about that nickname again?

"Do not give me that look. If you didn't decide to go gallivanting all over town in the middle of the night, you wouldn't be tired now." With a twinkle in his eye, he dumps a pile of golden flour disks in front of me.

"What's this?" I ask, with a disdainful curl to my lip.

"Pancakes!" He declares this as if it is a great and wonderful thing.

"I know they're pancakes!" I snap. "What are they doing here?"

"Looks like they're just sitting on a plate."

I huff irritably through my nose. "You know what I mean."

"Oh, I just thought I'd try something new and different today. You might want to try something different too." He pats his hand on my head again. "Now eat up, you're still a growing boy."

Before I have the chance to slap it away, the hand is gone.

I reluctantly take a bite of the pancake.

It's not bad.

Don't get me wrong; it's not good either. But caught under Kakashi's watchful eye, I manage to swallow it all down.

I glower, but he smiles and says, "Well, I'll be gone most of the day again. So be good."

I ignore the patronizing comment, saying instead, "Were you following me?"

The dishes rattle in the sink. "I don't have to follow you."

"Hn." I stand up and shove my hands in my pockets, going to the door even though I have no destination in mind.

"How about you check the training grounds?"

"Why?" I ask suspiciously.

But all he answers is "Have a nice day!"

-----

There he is: the kid with the stupid "sticky-up" hair and the t-shirt with the swirl on the front. I notice him all the time now. Now that I have nowhere else to look.

He is sitting on that swing again, watching all the other kids with their parents and their brothers and sisters as though it is the best thing in the world.

He bugs me.

I don't know why, he just does.

I walk up to him. He turns his face up to me and pouts, his eyes pulled into thin slits.

"What do you want?" he snarls.

His hands are gripping tight to the rope of the swing as if I'm going to steal it out from under him.

I don't say anything.

I kick him.

He just makes me so mad.

"Ow!" He grabs his shin and his lip sticks out farther. "What'd you do that for?"

I kick him again.

This time he doesn't ask, he just launches himself off the swing and uses both his hands to throw me to the ground.

I pull back my fist and punch him sharply across the jaw.

His head whips to the side for a second. Then he turns back, grabs my shoulders, and slams my back into the ground. Hard.

I lift my leg and knee him in the stomach so that he crumples, his body sliding off to the side.

I don't know why I wanted to do this. I just had the sudden desire to hurt him, and maybe get hurt myself in the process.

I stand up and glare down at him, lifting my foot, prepared to stomp down. But instead, his foot comes crashing into my knee and I stumble backwards, falling onto my backside.

He jumps again, grips my shirt and pounds a fist into my mouth, making my teeth hurt. I feel the trickle of blood where my tooth has cut my lip.

Physical pain is easier.

I reach up and start battering my fists into his chest and his face screws up in pain. He grabs my arms and uses his weight to hurl us into a roll. We tumble over and over, flying through the dirt, kicking it up everywhere and I end up on top of him, the dust sticking to my sweaty skin and clinging to my hair. I pull my arm back and catch him squarely in the nose.

My mouth is filled with the taste of my blood and I spit to the side to empty it. When I look down, I see a line of red streaming from the kid's nostril and big, dumb, blue eyes staring at me.

But he's smiling.

I fall back onto my heels, setting him free, and he scoots away to sit a little distance apart.

I wipe the back of my arm across my mouth to clear it of blood.

He's watching me.

I don't know why, but that makes me uncomfortable, so I stand and walk away, leaving him to sit in the dirt, alone.

I don't even know his name.

But I do feel a little better.

And I think, maybe he does too.

-----

The yells and crashes and explosions of chakra reach my ears long before my feet reach the training grounds.

I stop short, a few meters from the edge and look, with some fascination, the images in front of me.

Several trees have been felled; their wooden carcasses now lay strewn over the burnt grass that leads to a giant crater. Smoke, like ghostly messengers, spiral up to join the clouds in long trailing tendrils.

The main ground is empty but for one person, Naruto, but that is quite enough. He is so involved in what he's doing that he hasn't even sensed my approach. That, or he's gotten better at hiding his reactions. Anyway, he keeps repeating the same moves again and again, keeps using his chakra as if trying to expel every last drop from his body. Kage bunshin, rasengan, dispel. Over and over in a continuous loop, yet never seeming to get any weaker. The edges of his chakra burn red, flashing out in all directions like misbegotten fireflies. He looks worn-out, his knees bent, his back curved and his breathing heavy and harsh.

Still he goes on.

Kage bunshin, rasengan, dispel.

Still I watch.

His rasengan grows skewed, splintering at the seams.

The pace slows, bit by tiny bit until at last it peters out completely.

The last time Naruto tries to form the rasengan, it fails. The ice blue energy crackles feebly for an instant and then spins out into the air, disappearing without a trace.

He smiles at it, looking relieved.

Then he falls backward, the dirt clouding up around him when he hits ground. Sweat spills from his pores and when he drags his arm across his face, I'd swear there are tears mixed in with it.

His smile looks twisted now.

He covers his eyes with his forearm, his lips parted, taking in large gulps of air as the sun bears down heavily on him.

I continue to watch, I don't know how long, until his breathing settles and finally he is at rest.

Cautiously, I approach and sit down beside him, soundless as a spirit, and wait.

His lips curve up into a very slight smile.

Something must have happened to cause this.  It’s early morning, but it doesn’t take long for villagers to be cruel.

//Konohagakure is always cruel.//

Maybe it’s nothing in particular.  But a person doesn't try to practically kill himself with training without reason.

Time passes unmarked as we stay like this and when I reopen my eyes, Naruto is grinning up at me like an idiot.

He is still lying on the ground.

His eyes seem unnaturally blue; I don't think I've ever seen a color like that anywhere else.

A broken branch snaps off with a horrible crack, landing on the outskirts of our invisible circle, but he just smiles wider.

He is trying too hard.

I stand up and brush some of the dirt from my pants, more from habit than any real need since they will be covered in dirt again soon enough, if I have my way.

Naruto continues to stare.

I meanly narrow my eyes, even as my heart chooses this moment to lodge itself in my throat.

Looking down at him with the most bored expression I can muster, I cross my arms. "Want to spar?"

Naruto's grin bends a bit devious.

He grabs the hem of his shirt and peels it up, baring his stomach, which shines under the sun with skin golden tan and sweaty. I can see the outline of his hipbones from the way his pants are pushed low. Why does he insist on wearing such hideously orange clothes? Black might be nicer, or blue to match his eyes . . .

Almost the entirety of his seal is exposed, the extra symbols that circle the main are pulsating a deep, hypnotic, cobalt hue.

"Taijutsu?"

Startled, I blink awkwardly to his face. His one eyebrow is cocked and he's wearing a happy, satisfied smirk that is a bit disconcerting.

I return the look blandly and raise my hands to show off my newest seals that oddly resemble compasses.

"Of course."

------

"If you were hurt that bad, you should have told me!"

"Afraid to fight me again?"

"I'll take you on any time, teme!"

"Hn."

"You are such a jerk. I'm sure you're going to blame me when you get the news you're going to be incapacitated for months because you just had to pick a fight."

"I didn't know you knew such big words."

"In-ca-pa-ci-ta-ted! Jerk."

"I'm fine."

"Oh, really?"

"Stop that."

"Are you telling me that doesn't hurt? Aha! You winced. That means it hurts, stupid!"

"If you don't stop, I'll show you 'hurt'."

"Gah! You're wound's ripped open. Oh, gross, it's all like pus and stuff. Sasukeeee . . . How long ago did that happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

I groan.

Naruto pouts at me when I snatch the hem of my shirt free from his hands. Exactly what does he think he's doing in the middle of the street? His pout turns into an all-out frown as he stares at my stomach, picturing the stained bandage beneath. I look away quickly, allowing my long bangs to cover any sign of a blush.

It’s embarrassing.

"It's fine, dobe," I admonish. "Stop looking at it."

"But . . ."

"You're making me uncomfortable."

For some reason, the idiot smiles.

He's right, though. All my old injuries have been strained by our little training exercise.  But I knew that going in.

It’s not so bad. And despite the look on his face, Naruto does feel better. The turmoil I saw brewing in his eyes earlier is gone, at least for the moment.

"You know," he says. The day has cooled down appreciably since I left the apartment. "You didn't have to come and eat with me."

"I was hungry." This is true. "Fighting tends to do that." Idiot.

"But you don't like ramen." He is so whiny. I am sick and tired of his mood swings.

I just shrug.

He scans me a moment and then puts his hands behind his head, his lips curling up happily. "It was a great spar, though wasn't it? Just like old times."

I'm not sure I agree with either count, but I don't bother arguing the point. The past has a tendency to look brighter when the present and future are so bleak.

I take a step that sends a pain shooting from my ankle up the full length of my leg and curse irritably under my breath. My mind feels numb and my body drained, and something about that doesn't seem quite right.

"All right, c'mon," Naruto frets, slinging my right arm over his shoulder.

I jerk away. "What do you think you're doing?"

He holds tight and scowls at me. "Stop being an idiot! You're obviously hurt. So c'mon, I'll help you home."

I glare at him because I am not some weak little kid who needs help from anyone, least of all the most stupid of all shinobi. It is just when I am about to enlighten him of this fact that I notice.

It is silent in the street, too silent for the middle of the day, and the absence of sound soaks into everything like water into a sponge.

And it is not for lack of people. The road is nearly choked with them. They are everywhere I turn, staring and glaring and motionless but for the way their heads turn to follow our passage as though it is the most interesting parade to ever pass through the Konoha. More than a few mutter something to their friends or children or parents and quickly duck inside a building.

One man stands defiantly by a fruit stand, tossing a persimmon lazily in one hand, as if gauging for just the right moment to make contact.

I let my eyes spin a crimson warning and like magic, the silence of the street now bristles with fear.

They’re looking at him.

Instinctively, I tighten my grip on Naruto's shoulder.

After all the sacrifices he's made, after all they've put him through and all they demand of us, this is how quickly they turn.

//Worthless. Selfish. Near-sighted. Konoha.//

'Konoha . . .'

I spit to get the word cleared from my tongue.

I look to Naruto as he adamantly stares straight ahead, impassive, though the corner of his mouth twitches nervously.

I curl my arm closer to his neck and lean in, my mouth near to the line of his jaw. My dignity sticks in my throat, but I make myself speak. "You're right, Naruto. I don't feel well."

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

I press my hand flat to his chest. "Let's go home."

-----

'Take deep breaths, Sasuke. Very deep breaths.'

I hear another piece of china become victim to Naruto's clumsy, anxious tidying.

There's some more clatter followed by the clear ring of metal bouncing off the polished wood floor.

"Are you still here?" I roll my head onto the back of the couch and slide an eye open to look back over at him. He's standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a giant spoon like a candle and gazing at it as though it bears the only light in the world.

"Do you want some tea?" He asks of the spoon.

"Tea?" I respond, as the spoon has, for some mysterious reason, chosen to hold its tongue.

"Yeah, tea."

"Are there any dishes left?"

He scowls at the spoon, because it should not tease him like that, and his knuckles go white and pink from gripping the utensil.

"Green.”  It’s the only tea I really like.

He smiles at the spoon for giving him an answer and then carefully puts it back in the drawer. I turn back around and stare at the blank wall in front of me, wondering, to some extent, why he's decided to annoy me more than usual by inviting invited himself in and thus forcing me to "entertain."

Yeah, I don't "entertain."

The apartment carries a strange quiet that filters through me, increasing my impatience the longer I stare at the wall.

//Such a simple boy, Sasuke-kun. Too soft. I always said you were.//

The teakettle whistles shrilly.

I hear the slosh of water and then Naruto is beside me, handing over a cup, its steam swirling sleepily to the ceiling.

I take a sip and immediately choke, splattering the liquid into the air as I shove the cup back into Naruto's hands. "This is full of sugar, dobe!"

As I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, his eyes go wide and he quickly takes hold of it, switching it with the other.

"Sorry, sorry! That one's mine!"

What the hell is the matter with him?

Moron.

New cup in hand, I look at the contents skeptically and then back to Naruto. He gives me a sheepish smile.

I take a taste and find to my great relief that this portion is sans sugar.

Naruto gives me a big smile as I settle into the couch, and then sits down beside me. He takes a swig from his cup, but midway through, he stops, startled, and pulls the tea away, coughing.

"Too sweet?" I tease.

Then, to my surprise, a deep blush rises to his nose and cheeks just before he whips his head away.

"No. That's not it."

Well, whatever. I take another sip from my pleasantly bitter tea and stare back at the empty wall.

//Silly, stupid boy.//

This is indescribably awkward. Sparring with Naruto is one thing, spending time with him when he is so abnormally quiet is quite another.

The nervous tension is not making anything easier.

Not that I show it, of course.

I'm good at that.

//Are you?//

'You always feel better when you see Naruto.'

Not always.

Really wishing that I were back at the training grounds instead - fighting is so much simpler than whatever the hell this is -, I pick up a stray book that was lying open on the table. My eyes scan over the words, but my brain does not bother with the laborious task of processing any. It seems boring anyway.

And it's far too difficult to concentrate, when Naruto, the king of weird, won't leave me alone.

Lately, his odd behavior has grown exponentially, starting with the first time I saw him through Orochimaru's eyes. He's more erratically emotional than I remember somehow, and he keeps watching me and acting thoughtful and . . .

I suddenly snap my head to the side as I notice Naruto's hand.

It is a sort of tingling, not-there feeling, which is why I didn't notice it before, but when I look, I see it firmly resting on my left arm.

I pull away. "What are you doing, usuratonkachi?"

The tea sways threateningly in my cup.

But he latches on stronger and moves closer, a blush staining his whiskered cheeks like a fever.

"What are you doing?" I repeat.

Not even considering the question, he wrestles both book and tea from my hands, places them on the table and shoves my left arm out of the way. Dumbfounded, I glower at him.

"You're hurt," he says by way of explanation. "You've been all twitchy and groaning since you got here; you probably didn't even realize you were doing it. I shouldn't have agreed to spar when you're not healed yet. And I can't do much, but at least this . . ."

"I'm not made from glass, moron. I don't need you to . . ."

But my breath catches when his hand sneaks below my shirt and the fingers slide over the bandage covering my newly ruptured wound.

I'm fine.

"Naruto . . ." I try to warn though it doesn't come out with quite the proper inflection.

I can't be expected to know what to say when he's acting so weird. Stop being so damn unpredictable.

He just looks at me as though I've said nothing, spreads his fingers over my wound and sends chakra, warm and healing, into my skin.

I try to assure myself that this is just medical treatment.  Except Naruto has a very strange expression on his face.

OK, this feels nothing at all like medical treatment. I think I may be getting a fever too.

My right hand shoots out to grasp his arm by the elbow, the warning unmistakable. "I didn't ask for your damn help, dobe." The little frightened synapses that are lighting in my brain show themselves in my quavering voice.

His eyes never leave mine. The eyes with blue so scandalously intense . . .

"Shh," he whispers, pretending he hasn't heard me. He raises his other hand to my neck and tilts my head forward, pressing his lips to the bare skin of my forehead where a hitae-ate should be but isn't.

I’m not a five-year-old.  Stop acting creepy!

It is something my mother would do, not Naruto. And yet it doesn't feel even remotely the same.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I seethe, but I can't do anything else without betraying the tremor in my limbs.

I can't seem to concentrate, my mind refusing to form cohesive thoughts. It is too concentrated on the warmth of his hand on my belly and the touch of his lips on my brow.

"It's OK," he says.

I should stop this.

It makes me feel stupid and small, the way he's speaking to me, but I . . . don't know.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

Something just seems off in the nerve endings of my brain, like the fight has been stolen from me so that my mind has ceased functioning in its regular logical parameters.

The blistered, broken skin of my stomach joins together, weaving itself into a unified whole.

Naruto's chin now leans on my forehead, his breath continually ruffling my hair. My face is tucked close to his neck so I can smell the effects of his training, sharp and pungent. The hand on my belly slides upward, over my skin, just before the fingers hover at the top seam of the binding.

Panic grips me just as my fingers grip into the hard, toned flesh of his arm. No, not panic. Irritation. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

He stops. With the hand still at the back of my neck, he maneuvers my head so he can whisper into my ear.

"It's OK. Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you."

Having him this close is not helping.

Not one bit.

I leverage my free hand into his shoulder and try to shove him off.

"Naruto," I hiss, gaining some sense back. "Stop treating me like a child."

"Mm-mm."

"Naruto, if you don't stop . . ."

He rubs his fingers deep into the base of my skull, and I gasp from the feel of it.

"If you really want me to, then do something about it."

So I drive my nails deep enough into his arm to draw blood, but he simply chuckles and lets the warning go unheeded.

"Stop." But it doesn't sound like I mean it, even to myself.

Slowly, he pulls his face from my ear, his soft cheek grazing along mine. I brace my hand hard against his shoulder joint.

"Then stop me, Sasuke," he murmurs huskily and pushes his fingers under the bandage so that there is no longer anything separating his skin from mine. He soothes his hand over the healed burn.

My breath comes out as a short, popping noise and when I open my eyes, I see that his irises have gone red like mine.

He smiles. "All better."

His breath flutters over my face, the spiced scent mixing with the sharpness of his sweat, the combination making me dizzy. It's his fault I can't seem to think straight.

I try to sneer, but it comes out all crooked.

He begins to massage his thumb deep into my scalp where head meets neck, and my eyes drift shut. My fingers still hook onto his elbow like a steel trap, but I'm no longer sure whether it's to stop him, or to stop him from leaving.

I’m a bit at a loss while he seems to know exactly what to do.  But he’s just healing a wound, that’s all.  No big deal.

It's not like anything all that different than we've been before.

Like the forest.

Like the hospital.

It doesn't have to mean anything.

I am still Uchiha Sasuke; that doesn't change.

And I can admit that I enjoy the rough, callused texture of Naruto's hands and the tingle of heat when his skin touches mine. We've known each other a long time, so . . .

"Sasuke," he whispers.

. . . it doesn't mean anything.

Neither do any of the thoughts spinning around in my head.

'He tried with me . . .' so what?

I pull on his arm, his fingers creeping close to my hipbone.

'He tried with Sakura . . .' and it didn't work.

I hear his breath hitch.

'You always feel better when you see him . . .' is there something wrong with that?

I let my grip loosen so my fingers merely cup the sharp bend of his elbow.

'You're jealous . . .' because he's my closest friend.

His hand dips further until the tips of his fingers just barely peek out from the bottom edge of the bandage. My stomach flutters.

It doesn't mean anything.

"It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you, Sasuke. You're safe."

I just can't breath, that's all. Every time I try to catch my breath, it runs away from me.

But that has nothing at all to do with him. It's only that I'm still not properly healed.

"Sometimes kindness is just kindness," he says softly.

Kindness is always a lie.

This is different; this is dangerous. I know this and yet I do nothing to stop it.

"Sometimes people want to be close to you, just to be close to you."

My heart is pressing hard against my ribcage, beating along the cracks in my bones, but I can't seem to make it hurt. My blood pumps fast through my veins and my skin burns as his fingertips press harder into my stomach.

Something new begins to coil inside me, creeping out from the fringes of my self, where everything other than hatred and determination has been locked away.

But I just can't let go of the Uchiha Sasuke I have created.

Because he is safe too.

I still hear Naruto's strange, murmured, nervous nonsense words.

He pulls my head down to rest on his shoulder, wrapping his arm all the way around my head to tuck the hair back behind my ear. His arm slides up and around the small of my back, pulling me closer.

I feel trapped.

"I just want you to . . . trust me."

He's acting way too strange.

But I do trust him, as much as I trust anyone.

And yet still, this isn't right; this isn't me . . .

Sometimes . . . maybe . . . somehow . . .

I wish it were.

But I don't want to think about anything anymore. My mind has grown weary from circling things it doesn’t comprehend.

He meddles with my reason, mixing up my thoughts and feelings so they no longer make any sense.

Naruto, Naruto, Naruto.

Every time I'm near him, all my better judgment just abandons me.

I hate that.

I hate him.

I hate not knowing who I am anymore.

His breath tickles my ear, he is so damn close, and he whispers something more, but the only words I can make out are a hushed "Sasuke, I . . ."

----

It is a bleary-eyed, cottony awareness that I wake up to. My mind is still blundering through the fog of unfinished dreams and half-formed thoughts, so I can't be sure that I'm actually conscious.

I'm lying on my side on the couch, alone, and the sky has gone dark though I can't really see it. All I see is the dim layout of the living room and a reflected light shining at me from the glass of the closed window.

". . . told him yet?" Is that Kakashi?

"No. Not really. Not exactly. I don't know." That voice reminds me of Naruto's, only very serious. "I'm still not sure."

I blink my eyes, but they stubbornly refuse to focus.

"You can never be sure."

"But . . . what if it's like with everyone else?" It is such a quiet, solemn voice. "They're all different now. And after I finally got some respect, I have to start all over."

"You'll earn it again. They'll understand."

I hear the strangled sniffling of tears and a doubtful "Maybe . . ."

"But that has nothing to do with him. You know that."

"Yeah, but, what if, what if," there's a suffocating pause. "What if he hates me?"

"I don't actually think that's possible."

A muted step falls on a cold, polished floor.

"Listen." Now my old teacher sounds far away and under water. My vision has gone blurry. "He's not smart about these things. And he tends to think backwards, making everything more complicated than any normal person would. But he's also changed in some way. And if you really want something, don't give up. You should know by now, things are not always what they seem, especially with him. He doesn't even understand himself."

"Yeah . . ."

"Just follow your heart, it's what you do best. . ."

-----

The air outside is cool and crisp beneath the clear night sky. I could count all the stars if I wanted to, only I don't want to.

I lean my elbows on the porch railing and a gentle breeze ruffles my hair, blocking my view for a moment.

Despite the temperate conditions, the atmosphere feels heavy and expectant.

I snarl into the distance.

"You can come down if you like," I call.

Noiselessly, someone drops to the porch behind me, his chakra rippling an announcement in the air.

I hadn't really thought my offer would be taken seriously and now that has been, I'm not sure what to do. I take a deep breath and turn to face my visitor, a small shock running through my system when I see him.

I know that face, so to speak.

"So what did you do to get stuck with such a lucrative assignment?" I drawl snidely.

The straw-haired ANBU shifts without sound and says nothing.

Turning my head to the side and leaning my elbows back on the railing behind me, I let the fall of my bangs obscure my face.

"What's your name?" I'm honestly not sure why I'm talking.

It could be because he’s a stranger and there’s a certain amount of freedom in that.

Clearly, he is not going to answer my question.

I look to him again, examine the shape and nature of his mask, and almost instantly am reminded of a toy I once owned as a boy.

"Kuma, then," I say.

He tilts his head in question, but as I am not about to tell him that I have essentially named him after what can best be described as a "teddy bear", I simply nod my head and repeat, "Kuma."

He seems unbothered by his new handle.

I give him one last, quick glance from the corner of my eye and then go back to looking off into space.

My mysterious watcher remains unmovable, untouchable, and smelling of tree sap.

"You have very interesting friends," he says out of nowhere.

"Do I?"

"Yes," he says cautiously, slowly gaining strength. "I’ve never seen such people. You’re lucky."

I laugh derisively.

"Of course," Kuma observes. "People like you never know how lucky they are."

The accusation hits me not as hard as it could have simply because I am accustomed to it.

I slide my hand down my face, so that my chin can rest neatly in the palm.

"You're wrong."

I know how lucky I am. It's the same as being unlucky.

That's why it feels wrong.

That's why I don't trust it.

That's why . . .

It scares me.

"You should . . ." he starts, but then stops abruptly.

I turn to face him, curious despite myself.

But he is staring fixedly at the porch slats, or so his mask would tell me. He then shakes his head and hoists a foot onto the side rail. His head turns in my direction, the small, beady black circle eyes searching through me as if they could see into my very soul.

"I didn't get 'stuck' with this assignment." He pauses as if debating whether to go on. "I requested it."

My eyes go a little wide as I take a step forward.

And then he is gone.

Chapter Text

"Ne, ne, Sasuke!"

That moron is making far too much noise for a stealth mission and I will not add to the clamor.

"Hey, wait up, teme! I'm talking to you!"

I don't answer.

There is an infinitesimal moment of blissful silence.

"Ne, Sasuke?" He's a little more subdued now. "Is there anyone, you know, that you like?"

"No."

I don't miss a stride in the forest's path.

"Nobody?"

I can't tell if it's hope or disappointment that I hear, and I wouldn't know the purpose of either, so I don't dwell on it.

Again, I don't answer.

"I don't mean like like; it doesn't have to be a girl . . .not necessarily . . .I mean anyone, you know, that you don't hate, that's a friend. Or maybe more . . ."

A girl? Tch! Every girl I've ever known has been needy and whiny and clingy and annoying. This is such a pointless conversation.

I trudge on.

"We're . . . friends . . .right?"

My step falters minutely, but I valiantly gain my rhythm back and press on as though nothing has happened.

"So that means," he swallows audibly, "That means you like me, right?"

I sigh.

"Go home, Naruto."

The previous energetic jog behind me slows to a sluggish crawl.

"You," Naruto starts faintly. "Don't want me here?"

I continue walking forward, screwing up my forehead because the truth is, I don't know what I want anymore.

Besides revenge, that is.

I always want revenge.

Naruto is still following along in my tracks, but slower now, hesitant and listless.

He is maddening.

I pick up speed, my movement still silent and call out.

"If you're going to persist in following me, the least you can do is be quiet. You tromp around like a herd of elephants."

And then all I hear is the natural rustling of leaves and the birds in the trees, though I do sense a cheerful quickening in Naruto's step.

-----

There's a knock at the door.

I pay it no attention, but it quickly escalates to pounding, and for the sake of keeping the place intact, I go to answer it with a reluctant sigh.

Naruto stops, his fist in mid-knock, and blinks at me stupidly.

I back away from what can only be an awkward exchange.

But he just smiles, oblivious, and pipes up brightly, "I came to pick you up!"

I look at him like the idiot that he is.

Taking this as his cue, he adds, "For the party."

I shut the door and go back to the living room.

The door opens again and Naruto lets himself in, apparently unruffled and too dense to get the hint. "Well, it's not a party, really. No one would be in the mood for a celebration right now. It wouldn't seem right after everything that happened. You know, with all the destruction and all . . ." he coughs uncomfortably. "Anyway, it's more like a dinner, a get-together, a . . ."

"Gathering of idiots?" I supply.

"You're coming," he retorts, his mouth set into a thin line.

"Oh?" I limp further into the living room.

//You're blushing.//

'Uchihas do not blush.'

Suddenly, he is crouched by my feet, his hands cupped around the hastily taped ankle I injured yesterday. As soon as that familiar prickly sensation hits me, I yank my foot away violently. Distancing myself from a repeat of yesterday is in my best interest.

He pouts up at me. "I'm not carrying you," he says.

"Well, that's convenient, because I'm not going."

"You are."

"Don't touch me."

"Fine then, I won't, jerk. But you're still coming. Everyone will be waiting for you."

I give him a look as though slugs have just crawled out of his ears.

"OK, maybe not everyone. But Sakura will be there. And Kakashi."

I guess that's where old one-eye's been all day. "I see them all the time."

"I'm going too."

"I see you all the time."

His lower lip juts out over his upper like a spoiled child. He's acting the same way he always has.

Clearly, yesterday was some sort of fluke.

"I wanna go. C'mon, Sasuke. One night, that's all I'm asking. A couple of hours. Why do you have to be so damn selfish? I really wanna go. It's not often I get the chance to see everybody, what with missions, and rebuilding and . . . and they're just trying to be supportive. We all need this, a little bit of normalcy to learn how to deal with each other again. I really need this, you know? There aren't too many places I can go these days, and actually see people who are . . . nice. I really wanna go."

"Then go. I'm not stopping you."

"I want you to go too."

Once again, he's using those horrifyingly vivid blue eyes on me, now teetering on the verge of tears. It won’t work.  There’s no reason for me to go.

//Afraid of everything still, hmm? Well that's fine, my pet. I'll just use that to my advantage someday. Hatred suits you much better anyway.//

'I'm not listening to you anymore.'

//Ku-ku-ku.//

"C'mon, Sasuke. Please?"

Begging isn't going to sway me.

"I really wanna go," he asks once more.

Why should my decision have any impact on his? "You're old enough to go on your own, dobe." His bearing is that of some little, lost, kicked puppy.

"I would mean a lot to me. Please?"

There's a plea in his request and that is so not a Naruto thing to do that it throws me off. He's not even using the whine he usually would, and the deeper resonance is more sincere, as if to say if I don't go, he won't either.

That he needs me.

He needs me.

And without realizing it, I have agreed and am shoved discourteously out the front door.

As we make our way to this whatever-it-is stupid thing, there's a new skip to Naruto's stride and a burst of way too happy bubbly-ness in his mood.

And no, I don't know a better way to phrase that.

His outlandish behavior ought to be drawing even more attention than usual, and that's saying a lot. But it’s dark and people are too concerned with themselves at the moment to care.

I limp quietly beside Naruto, wondering how I got coerced into participating in such a ridiculous, pointless charade. Most everyone that will be there hates me.  I’m not ignorant of this..

The crowd starts to thin and as it does, Naruto's easiness evaporates into the cool night air.

"Hey, Sasuke?"

He moves closer and the arms that used to be behind his head now swing at his sides. "Do you . . ." His eyes skitter around anxiously.

"Do I what? Finish a sentence, idiot."

I take my hands from my pockets and nervously run the fingers through my hair, letting the strands fall down in orderly fashion. My head falls backwards at the same time as my hands.

"Um, Sasuke, can I, uh, ask you a favor?" Naruto stops, clears his throat.

I turn to face him in the now vacant street. His eyes are fluctuating between deep blue and dark red, an effect that most often happens when his emotions run high.

The light over our heads flickers for a moment and in the flash I see a masked ninja duck out of sight.

I smirk.

Naruto moves closer to me and I cock my eyebrow in question.

"Do you remember what I asked you once?"

"No."

But he goes on, not listening. "Well, I, uh, I've had an answer for a while now, but I just want to know . . ." His gaze shifts everywhere before settling, unsettlingly, on me.

The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and after he presses them together, they shine in the sputtering light.

Slowly, Naruto brings a hand up to my face, but when the light gutters again, I recoil and quickly swat the hand away. He snatches onto my wrist and pulls back while I twist my arm outward. He torques my elbow with his other hand, catches my bad ankle with his foot, and I find myself slammed to an alley wall. My wrist is now held firmly on one side of my head while his free hand presses into the wall on the other. I am essentially trapped.

There's no possible way this would be happening if I were in top form. He's taking complete advantage of the situation.

//Is that really the truth?//

'Yes, it is. Now go away.'

//Aren't you just making excuses?//

'Leave me alone!'

Shadows cut Naruto's face in half, sharpening the rounded edges to something older and slightly sinister. His pointed bottom teeth thrust out past his top, all of them white, almost fluorescent in the darkness. Then he leans into me, his eyelids drooping over his red-tinged eyes and his jaw slowly eases back to its proper place, expelling a breath of warm air over my face.

I frown.

"Naruto . . ." I warn dangerously. "I thought you wanted to go to your little party."

I try to pull my wrist free, but not as seriously as I should.

I feel weary, with the burden of this all unknown in the air.

He is so close; I can smell the heat, and the crispness of his soap, emanating off his skin.

"Get off me, idiot. I don't have time for this shit." I struggle against his restraint, but he presses back with more force and scrapes my hand into the jagged stone wall, pinking it with blood.

"Would you just shut up for a second," he bites out testily. "You're making this more difficult than it should be. And it's not like you couldn't have known what I was doing. I mean, I've been testing you for months and you didn't seem against it or anything . . ."

"What are you talking about?"

My eyebrows pull in low and I gnash my teeth together.

After a moment, the harshness of Naruto's eyes melts into confusion. He lets free a quiet snort and a tiny smile flashes over his lips. The color of his irises softens to a deep indigo, the pupils going glassy, and the set of his jaw slackens. My taut vision begins to grow fuzzy.

His attention never wavers, if anything, it intensifies, stealing into me like a thief.

"You really are beautiful." He sighs like this is some sort of epiphany.

And then I scowl, for two reasons. Firstly, I know it's a lie. I know how to use a mirror and the reflection I've seen is too thin, too sallow, and the bruise over my face has now evolved to an unattractive melding of pea green and mustard yellow.

And secondly because,

"I'm not a girl."

He grimaces and forces out an uncomfortable laugh. "I know, OK? I know," the smile falls from his face as though the stitching has come loose. "But I don't know, either, OK?"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I know it doesn't," he says cryptically. "But it's not like I just woke up one day and said," he stops, shakes his head. "Do you think this is easy for me? 'Cause it's not. I mean, you're a guy. A guy, but I just . . ."

He tips in more and the pupils of his eyes seem to swell unnaturally.

"I just want to try something."

I feel the heat of his breath puff over my face and fill my nostrils with a slightly sour smell. A pulse of alarm and something else mounts inside me, making my hand propel forward to the base of his skull and yank his head back.

His lips purse irritably and he tries to pull forward.

My grip tightens, my fingers latching onto hair, tugging them hard from the root, but his only reaction is to just growl at me, low and inhuman.

The grasp he has on my wrist tightens so much that I can feel the heavy bluish swelling in the fingers when the blood supply is cut off. His other hand drags slowly to my bared neck, the thumb rubbing into my jugular with nails that have gone sharp, scraping and digging into my skin. The contrast of the two movements is jarring.

My eyes instantly swirl sharingan, focused only on his and the fire that burns back at me, locked in a battle I don't think I can either win or lose. I feel trapped in the sort of push and pull of same magnets, caught in the confusion of the wanting and not wanting and the not even knowing what it is to want or not want.

"Naruto," I rasp. "Stop this."

"Stop what?" The tone is so much lower than I've heard before. The side of his mouth crooks up. "You don't really mean that, do you? Just like last night."

This is a Naruto I don't know and I suspect there's a little bit of Kyuubi's influence in there too.

My heart is hammering against my breastbone and all I can hear is our combined heavy breathing.

Naruto's leg creeps forward, brushing mine until his knee hits stone and I feel the strong flex of his muscles even through the barrier of fabric.

The heat from him is growing hotter – or is it me – and when his nail slices straight into my neck, breaking skin and letting a trickle of my warm blood slide into the curve of my collarbone, I feel it like electricity rushing up my spine.

I can't get enough air.

The smile Naruto gives me is predatory. He growls again, the sound rising in hunger from the depths of his chest and I feel the vibrations in every nerve of my body.

His other leg nudges along my other side and I realize in horror that somewhere along the way, I handed control over to him.

My hand grasps tighter and some of Naruto's hair gives way, caught between the spaces of my fingers, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Sasuke . . ."

His voice hums deep and throaty in a way that resonates in my chest. I feel drunk, out-of control, and there's a whooshing in my ears and a swooping in my stomach and I think it's my resolve leaving.

Naruto's smile widens, baring his sharp teeth, and shoots wet, hot surges of breath over my mouth.

He tastes the same as he did on our first genin day . . .

Not that I remember.

I wrench back on his hair harder than before, yet somehow he keeps getting closer and closer . . .

I wet my dry lips.

"Hey, Naruto!"

We both stop short and I wrest my hand so swiftly from his head, I'm sure I left a bald spot.

Naruto lowers his head to the side and curses unintelligibly. Then he gives me a peculiar, meaningful look before turning around to face the intruder.

Wait, "intruder"?

"Hey, Kiba!" I can hear the artificial happy smile and the underlying disappointment in his reply.

Immediately, Naruto takes off in the direction of dog boy and I finally allow myself to breathe as I sink into the shadows.

I don't think I've been seen.

Oh god I hope not. Of all people, Kiba would never leave anything alone and I really don't feel like dealing with any more idiots right now.

"What were you doing there?" Kiba cranes his neck over Naruto's shoulder, trying to get a better look, and I fall further into the darkness. "I thought you were supposed to be getting Sasuke?"

"Heh, heh, well," glossing over the first question, Naruto charges bravely on. "Sasuke said he would follow later!" He punctuates each word far too loudly to not be obvious.

Moron.

Kiba gives him a look that says he thinks Naruto has just gone crazy.

For once, I wholeheartedly concur.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, nothing! Let's go!" Naruto shoves dog boy forward with both hands. "Boy, am I starved! I can't wait to eat!"

"You have some serious problems."

I feel myself agreeing again.

How disconcerting.

Agreeing with dog boy.

Naruto laughs it off and keeps pushing and it is not until I can no longer hear their echoes that I let myself relax.

I knock my skull against the wall and slide down until my knees meet my chest. Exhausted, unsure and so aggravated that it bites at the back of my brain, I search the far distant stars for answers.

I feel mad and humiliated and a little bit in shock.

What the hell possessed Naruto to go and complicate everything with this, this . . .idiocy! What is it about him that affects me so much that my thoughts blur into nothingness?

I should kill him.

I don't know what to do or feel or think.  It’s a first for me, really. My mind is both too full and too empty to make any kind of rational thought possible.

I will kill him. He has no right to make me feel this way, to feel anything.

I don't want to.

It’s like I’m walking a very thin line and I don't know which side to cross over to.

But I do know one thing.

Naruto was about to kiss me.

And I was about to let him.

Chapter Text

Well, this is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening: shunned and avoided like an infectious disease. I'm so glad I let myself be dragged here against my better judgment. Now I can be afforded the singular honor of standing alone like an idiot while that jerk races off, fraternizing with the enemy.

//This is all you could ever expect.//

Not that I care, because I certainly do not.

I adjust the collar of my shirt. He begs me to come, pleads just short of an ultimatum, and then proceeds to ignore me?

//Of course, my pet. Did you expect any different?//

'No. Yes. I don't know. Not from the rest of them. From Konoha, I don't expect anything. But from Naruto, I thought, maybe, after everything, that he would be different.'

But then why should he be?

//And that is what you deserve for always being so stubborn about your little fox.//

'But no, Naruto isn't like that. He's not like that.'

//Stop trying to convince yourself, Sasuke-kun. If that were true then why are you alone now? If you meant anything at all to him, then would he have abandoned you?//

'No. Yes. No, oh just shut up!'

Dog boy, his ever-faithful friend bug boy, and fuzzy eyebrows all move as one and converge on Naruto like a barricade. And he doesn't mind, no, of course not. He wants to be loved by everyone.

//So you see. I speak the truth. You are the one too soft and simple, denying it.//

Shino is watching me. At least I think so, though with those dark glasses it's tough to be sure. Though judging by the way Kiba had to catch his attention, I'd say it is a good bet. But Naruto doesn't know or care that I've arrived and am alone, crammed up by the buffet table. He just stands around chatting and laughing and reciting inane stories.

He's not even looking this way!

//Jealous, jealous, jealous.//

'I am most certainly not.

'I'm pissed.

'Royally and justifiably pissed.'

I watch the spiky blond head nod excitedly as he lets out a loud, offensive, and somewhat high-pitched laugh. The others laugh right alongside him and anger pours through me, making my head hurt.

He should be looking at me.

//Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke, my pet. You will make yourself sick with all this envy.//

'What difference does it make? It's not like I actually want anything from him. It's just how things are supposed to be.'

//Oh?//

And it isn't like I want to attend some pointless charade of normalcy. No, what I'd really like to do is beat the living daylights out of a certain blond dimwit at the next possible opportunity.

He's not paying a lick of attention to me.

I hate him.

//Ku-ku-ku-ku. Do you now?//

"You keep staring like that and you might set something on fire."

The softness of her voice makes it hard to tell whether the girl is joking or serious. Because if I really wanted it to, my stare probably could set something on fire.

//That sounds like an entertaining way to liven up this dreary night.//

"Uchiha-san," she says politely with a smile, handing over a glass.

"Hyuuga-san."

She smiles again and briefly looks over to the crowd that has been the subject of my most recent scorn.

//As it should be. He makes you weak; he always has.//

'I don't need to be told that.'

She gestures lightly with the glass in her hand. "He l-looks much happier."

"Oh?" Of course he does, look at all the stupid little friends surrounding him.

"Y-yes." Hinata turns toward me. "More than he has in, um, a long time."

"Hn." I take a sip from the glass. My eyebrows rise slightly, but my eyes themselves stay disinterested.

"Sake," she leans in, shy and conspiratorial. "Have you e-ever had it?"

//You seem to forget yourself whenever you think of the fox. And you think of him too often.//

'No, I don't.'

//Oh really?//

I nod slowly, turning back to stare at Naruto and let the liquid wet my parched throat, falling into my empty stomach. "It was one of Orochimaru's favorites."

I say it blandly, conversationally, imparting a fact of no great importance, but she winces anyway.

"I-I see."

//You show so much emotion over him.//

'I do not. I have no need for feelings.'

//Yet you still insistently cling to them. That is why you hurt now.//

'Nothing hurts.'

Cupping both her hands protectively around her glass, Hinata takes another sip, reminding me of a little girl with a late night glass of water.

Scanning the room, I note that most of the company here is underage and those that aren't . . .

"Battle me, my rival! If I can't drink more sake than you, than I will do five hundred laps around the village! On one foot!"

"Ah." A pornographic page flips.

. . . are not exactly what I would call "mature".

//Cut your ties with the boy. His influence is not to be trusted. And it will get you killed.//

'What is that supposed to mean?'

//The council's stipulations, my dear.//

'I don't care about the stipulations.'

//And yet they are there.  And you are here.//

I keep my gaze trained on Naruto: his bright eyes, even brighter clothes, and the wide strained smile. It is as I am drawn to him, incapable of looking anywhere else. I concentrate so hard that when I take another drink, I'm almost surprised when it tastes like sake.

//Yes, I wonder what that could be.//

Hinata immediately starts to worry when the unsolicited observation makes me choke. Because somehow I can still feel the effects of Naruto's nearness and the way I almost gave in to it, almost crossed that damn line I didn't even know was there until tonight.

I can still taste his breath.

//Do you see? You are always thinking of the little fox. He is wrong for you, can't you understand? He will drag you down. Do you not want to be strong, to have power?//

'I . . .'

My insides twist painfully, remembering Itachi and the moment when all my work came to fruition.

'I don't need to be strong anymore.'

//You are an avenger, Sasuke-kun. You always need to be strong.//

"Uchiha-san?" The Hyuuga girl sounds just short of terrified.

I look up, not to the girl but to the root of all these problems and notice him staring back at me. His face shows a trace of concern mingled with amusement.  I hate him.

It is only a moment though before his attention is drawn back to all those other people and not on me. Nowhere near me.

I glare at him with all my hate, all my frustration and rage, because this is his fault.

Stupid Naruto.

//Indeed. Cut your ties with him and do what you must to stay in Konoha.//

'Usuratonkachi. I hate him.'

I pause.

'Wait, why do you care if I stay in Konoha?'

//No reason.//

Somehow, I doubt that.

Naruto laughs again, facing away from me so that he can talk with dog boy and bug boy and . . .

Turning around sharply, I slam my hands and the glass on the table, trying to control the wave of fury that ripples just below my surface. Hinata twitters over me, but at a safe distance, probably afraid that if she comes too close, I may spontaneously combust.

That's not too far off the mark.

//And I repeat: that would be much better than letting the fox get away with dismissing you. Where is all your overwhelming hatred?//

The girl's mouth is parted slightly as if to speak, but she doesn’t voice anything.  But there are questions I don’t want asked. Recollecting myself, I stand up straight and look at the Hyuuga girl.

Really look at her.

She's pretty I suppose, with her long black hair, pale skin, and violet eyes. She has a modest temper and is gentle and shy. I guess if I really try, I could see why someone might like her.  I could see Naruto liking her.

"What did you mean?"  I ask her.

"W-what?" She flinches visibly, shocked by my suddenness.

"Naruto. And you." I'm not saying anything more. Even this much is degrading.

//You are too possessive when it comes to the boy. “Degrading" is definitely the correct word.//

'No one asked for your opinion.'

//It is not opinion; it is fact. If you do not like it, then change it.//

"Oh." She pushes the tips of her fingers together the way she used to do when we in class years ago, if I recall correctly. "We . . .d-dated, I guess you could say. N-not for very long. A few weeks. I already told you." She looks up at me over the crest of her eyelashes. "It was a disaster."

I nod as if this solves any of the number of things it hasn't solved. "Why?"

"He," she takes her time, choosing her next words carefully. "Was looking for someone else."

//Why should you care? Have you forgotten how he has tricked and ignored you?//

'No, I haven't.'

//Then do something about that, retaliate for how he has treated you.//

The Hyuuga girl assesses me with nothing but pure innocence, her pupil-less violet eyes watery with concern and maybe she is genuine.

"Have you talked with Sakura?" I ask abruptly.

//Cease speaking with this girl. Have you suddenly become sociable? I think not. If so, there are more valuable matters to discuss.//

'I have no idea what you're talking about. And I don't care.'

Hinata is flustered for an instant, blinks, then answers, "N-not for a while now."

I nod and turn my head, taking another sip from my glass.

"I-I'm sorry." The girl blurts out nervously. "I didn't think that . . .I j-just thought that Sakura-chan would . . ."

"I didn't mean what I said." The liquid in the glass absorbs my words as I gaze deeply down into it.

I want to explain that it wasn't really me who said those things, but "him". "Him, him, him", who won't ever leave me alone. "Him" whom I can't get rid of.

And not me, not really.

//Are you so certain of that? The words did come from your mouth, after all. You should not go back on your word.//

'As if you know anything about reliability.'

//And you do?//

Either way, I'm not explaining it; that would be madness.

//In that, you are correct. Are you trying to get yourself killed? Silly boy.//

"Wha . . ?" The Hyuuga girl blushes, utterly confused.

I don't answer. The two people who are swiftly approaching catch my attention: Sakura, in a red dress, and Neji, with a calculated stare. Sakura beams at me as she waves, a bit surprised.

//Do not become distracted. Concentrate on the boy and how he has deceived you.//

'Leave me alone.'

Neji arrives first, placing his hand at Hinata's back and making the girl blush deeper as she crumples into his overbearing presence. He says nothing, though his stance is protective, suspicious, and he looks about ready to lead Hinata away, but a gentle brush of her hand against his arm stops him.

Interesting.

//Who cares? Concentrate on your anger, your hatred, your avenging spirit. That is what is important.//

"Sasuke," Sakura says upon arrival, saving us all from any further awkwardness. She nods politely to the two Hyuugas.

"Sakura." I am the only one to speak. Neji replies with a nod and Hinata seems to have been struck mute as she glances between the two of us, words dangling on the tip of her tongue but never given voice.

Sakura's eyes skim over me and back to the corner and I don't need to be told to know what exactly she's looking at. "I'm really glad you came."

I scowl.

Naruto doesn't care.

//Precisely, my pet. And you should pay him back for that sentiment tenfold.//

'How many times must I tell you to be quiet?'

//It will make no difference. These are your own thoughts.//

"Tch!" Sakura wags her finger at me. "It's true. You need to get out more. Staying cooped up in that apartment all the time isn't healthy. What happened to your obsession with training, anyway?"

It died alongside my brother.

//Ah, yes. And what about the perfect son? The genius, the pride of the clan. The one better than you?//

'Itachi.

//Yes, you must remember him and the way he treated you as well.//

'It doesn’t matter.'

//Your brother always matters.//

"Hn." My eyes rove over the various people milling about, like flies around sugar, buzz, buzz, buzzing, and never landing. "And being surrounded by animosity is healthy?"

'Itachi. He made me want to be like him, made me think he cared, and then . . .'

"Well," Sakura says, thoughtfully. "Yes. It's better than doing nothing. Besides, now that you're back to stay, they'll have to get used to you eventually."

//Yes, my pet. Good, good, remember.//

Neji adds a wordless, indecisive comment.

'He hurt me. When all I wanted was for him to . . .'

I look over to Naruto again, but he's not where he was and I can't find him as if he's just walked out of my life.

Like everyone else.

//Don't stop, now, my dearest little pet. He taunted you, said you could never surpass him, said he would spend time with you and never did, didn't he? He acted like he cared, but when the time came, he just left. Sound familiar?//

Hinata pipes up. "Th-that's right!" We all focus on the normally timid girl. "Everyone will be seeing you from now on and . . ."

I cock an eyebrow.

How naive.

I tip back the glass, letting a little trickle back over my tongue.

This is nothing but a temporary reprieve. They’re all so irritably naïve.

//You were hurt time and again. But no longer. You put an end to that, didn't you?//

'Yes. I killed him. And he deserved to die. Deserved it. His last breath was wasted with lies.'

"Well, at least you're here," Sakura says with a sigh. "Even if you are being miserable."

‘I won’t believe it.’

I give her a nasty look and she just shrugs.

//And you cut your ties with your brother, as you should with the boy. Give the fox what he deserves.//

'He deserves nothing.'

"I heard you spent some time with Naruto the other day. I don't know what you did," the pink-haired girl smiles. "But thank you."

"Whatever," I hiss, hoping that they'll think the sudden, stupid coloring to my cheeks is an effect of the alcohol.

//Not true. He has taken all that you thought you had in that simple little mind of yours and twisted it to the point of breaking.//

'Nothing's ready to break.'

//Oh, I think it is.//

Neji gives his lip a sardonic twist that I do not appreciate at all.

I look away, allowing my gaze to wander the room once more and note the way no pair of eyes meet mine but one. Wide, deep blue stares straight back into mine, completely oblivious to the commotion surrounding him.

My irises pulse angry crimson for a second and then I turn away. Naruto better have gotten the message, the "stay the hell away" couldn't be any clearer.

//Better, better. Now we are on the right track.//

I decide to leave.

Sakura glowers at me, but I turn anyway, until I am facing the exact opposite direction and, unfortunately, Naruto.

He's smiling again, that false, dopey, nervous smile, and staring rather intently at my throat and the cut he made. Reflexively, I hike up my collar as far as it will go.

I'd like to punch him.

//And back we are to him like a boomerang. Will you ever learn?//

A flush covers the bridge of his nose and his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

"What do you want?" I ask harshly.

He shakes his head laughs uncomfortably, and looks up to my face. "You made it."

I say nothing.

"Well, y'know, I wasn't sure you'd come after I almost . . ."

I shoot him a threateningly glare and inconspicuously stomp hard on his foot and just when he's about to complain, I think he's finally caught up with his mistake and clamps his mouth shut.

//Do you see how useless he is? How he tries to make a fool of you?//

'No, he's just an idiot, that's all.'

//Stubborn, Sasuke-kun. Still so unwisely stubborn.//

His eyes open wide when full realization at last hits him.

Dimwit.

And it doesn't stop there. Oh no, the five-steps-behind idiot begins staring at my mouth.  I pull it into a thin line, accentuating each word sharply.

"What. do. you. want."

//To hurt you, of course.//

I grumble silently to myself.

//Come now, what other possible reason could he have? You can't believe anyone would ever care about you? You are nothing more than a name and a mission. No one truly knows who you are, nor do they want to.//

'He's not like that.'

//He is. Sever the ties with him before he hurts you, just like all the others.//

Naruto wakes up for the second time and then looks everywhere but at me. I can feel the six other eyes of the group watching the interchange with intense scrutiny.

Get on with it, moron!

//Even if you insist on it being unintentional, it makes little difference. All relationships only lead to pain.//

Naruto clears his throat and puts his hand on the shoulder of the guy next to him.

My blood begins to boil over. Whether because of Naruto's monumental stupidity or because of the presence of the person I inherently hate, I don't know. Either is perfectly valid.

//What did I tell you? Stop being so indulgent. This . . friendship of yours is not so important as he claims, not to him.//

"I, uh, well, you know Sai, right?" Naruto grins, so insipidly. "He just got back from a mission today, just in time to make it to the party, like you."

I remember him, of course.

We've met before in the depths of Orochimaru's lair, at the ends of lies and conspiracy. We even had a lovely conversation. 'I'm supposed to kill you,' etc, etc. Yes, the wonderful memories. And why exactly is it that Naruto thinks I'd want anything to do with this thing?

//The boy is only playing with your head. He has already made the comparison between the two of you.//

'This isn't a game!'

//Oh, but it is. You should understand that by now.//

This is my replacement. There is no reason whatsoever that I would want to know him.

And despite the rumors I've heard floating around, we do not look anything alike.

I grip the glass in my hand.

"Hello, Sasuke-kun."

I whip my head to Naruto. What the fuck, usuratonkachi?

//First move. Don't you see what he's doing?//

Naruto smiles at me as if this makes anything better. Don't even think about it, I'm not falling for that cute little grin.

Wait a minute . . .

//Second move.//

My serpentine pupils shrink the way they sometimes do and I blink.

"I see you still wear the badge of your stupidity and cowardice." Sai, that useless waste of air, gives me a vapid smile and taps the skin directly under his eye.

The cup in my hand shatters, showering the three of us in glass and the tiny remnants of alcohol.

Sakura groans. Hinata lets out a short gasp and Neji only hums curiously under his breath.

//Ku-ku-ku-ku! Now remember, Sasuke-kun. What is it?//

'What is what?'

I spare one last menacing look for Naruto, shake my hand free of liquid, now tinted slightly pink with blood, and storm out.

I hear Sakura call after me, but I don't care. I ignore both her and the gallery of looks I'm receiving.

"Naruto, you idiot!" Sakura shrieks.

"What- OW!"

//The truths you have learned.//

'About what?'

//Stop behaving so dense. It does not befit you. Trust, compassion, camaraderie.//

There are all just illusions.

-----

The cold night air hits me like a lash and aggravates the already stinging lattice of cuts in my palm.

I stalk away from the pointlessness, content with anger as my sole companion, and head back to Kakashi's apartment. I have had more than my fill of socialization.

'They are all things I do not need. Trust is always betrayed. Bonds only lead to pain.'

//Finish what you started those three years ago. Any way you can. Just get away from the boy.//

"Wait! Sasuke!" I hear the soft padding of Sakura's feet, which just goes to show how anxious she is.

'I should never have come back. It ends now.  This time I’ll make sure to burn my ties.  I do not need them.'

//Precisely. Good, good. And why is that?//

"Will you wait a minute!" Sakura grabs my arm tightly. "Come back inside, please?" Her green eyes glow in the darkened street. "You came all this way, didn't you? Just stay a while. You know how Naruto is, he never thinks things through."

No, he never thinks period.

'Everyone I cared about has turned on me. Died, killed, abandoned, tricked.'

"Forget it, Sakura," A familiar male voice says. "That's just how he is. If he's not the center of attention, he gets all moody."

'Lied.'

"Naruto!" Sakura yells.

"No, you're wrong, Sakura. He's the one who stormed out like a spoiled brat, not me."

Slowly, I rotate my head and see Naruto in his stupid orange jacket with his stupid blond hair, as he leans against the side of the building, glaring at me with those stupid blue eyes.

"Excuse me?" I ask dangerously.

"You heard me," he answers. "The great Uchiha Sasuke always has to be the best, the strongest, the apple of everyone's eye. But now that you're not so special anymore, you get all upset. You're not the only person in the world, you know. So stop acting like an asshole."

I throw Sakura away from me with a force so unexpected that she stumbles away with a gasp.

"Me?" He has got to be kidding. "You're the one who asked me, no, fucking begged me to come. If you'll recall, I didn't want anything to do with this."

//That's right. Hold tight to your anger. Rid yourself of these weaknesses//

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Naruto scoffs. "I didn't realize getting out of the house was such a trial."

//He made you care. And then abused it. Just like your brother did.//

Naruto jerks his head and glances to the side. "I don't know why I bother even trying with you."

//Just like Itachi.//

Naruto sticks out his fat lower lip in a pout, looking at me from the corner of his eyes as if he is blameless.

'Itachi.

'All I wanted was to be like him, to be seen by him, to be cared for by him, but all he did was lie to me and ignore me and destroy my life, abandoning me . . .'

There's no way he's playing the wounded party here. He has no right.

//And what of the fox? He wheedled his way into your supposedly cold heart and then trampled all over it at the first opportunity.//

'He did.'

//Make him pay. Make it stop. Isn't that what you want? To make it stop?//

'Yes.'

Without any warning, I allow the first wave of my anger fly forth, sprinting forward and ramming my fist into Naruto's face. I connect with his jaw and feel the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my knuckles.

He takes a step back.

"What was that for, teme?" He yells, affronted.

"Maybe you should have dodged it, loser!" I challenge.

//He tricked you, my pet. Used you like a pawn. What does that make him?//

'It makes him nothing. I don't want any sort of connection. I will sever it.'

He's got that annoying, self-righteous expression on his face and it just makes me want to hit him more, to beat the arrogance right off him.

//No less than he deserves.//

He has no business acting innocent.

He started it.

The remainder of my fury washes over my body like a second skin. It is a protection I am intimately familiar with.

"You're being a bastard,” Naruto says, as if he has done nothing to warrant my anger.

The rage bubbles outward, infusing my chakra, and I attack.

"Better than being you," I spit out, aiming a kick to his midsection.

He grabs my ankle and drives his bent elbow down into my knee and I feel the flash of pain, but almost immediately it is gone. He cannot hurt me.

//Yet hurt you he does. Time and again. When all you wanted was to care and be cared for, yes? But the only thing it leads to is pain. Does that not remind you of someone else?//

'Naruto . . .'

I block the punch he throws and use the same move he did, clutching his wrist. But he twists backwards, thrusting his leg out behind him and snapping into one of my cracked ribs. A searing pain flares through my body like fire.

His strong hand slips from my grasp.

Sakura is screaming somewhere, but the outside world has become shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog. All except Naruto.

//If he really cared, would he have abandoned you in favor of all his other little friends, hmm? Would he have told you he wanted to spend time with you and then leave you?//

'Naruto is . . .'

I launch forward again, pulling out a kunai I stole from Kakashi and aiming for Naruto's throat. He deftly reaches his hands back over his head and flips over to land on his feet.

//Is he not the cruelest of them all? Is he not even worse than another who made you care and hope only to leave you all alone?//

'Naruto is . . .'

//Yesss?//

He begins a set of seals, but I'm not letting him take advantage of any of his unlimited, expanding chakra. A carefully trained barrage of shuriken (also pilfered form Kakashi) stops him as he dives clear and ends up banging his shoulder into a small tree trunk.

'Naruto is . . . .'

//He feigned kindness, then almost killed you. And will certainly abandon you. It is the same.//

Naruto's eyes narrow at me, threatening retribution.

'Naruto is . . .'

//He will betray you, toss you aside like nothing. He does not think you are worth it.//

Even after all these years, the pain is still sharp.

//He will leave you. All alone and lonely. He will hurt you.//

'Naruto is . . .'

//He called you his brother.//

He stands up, his eyes a cold, pitiless void. Black like death and emptiness. There's a piercing pang in my heart because I have seen those eyes before.

//So who does that make him?//

I have seen those eyes before in the face of a murderer, his sword dripping blood, and the bodies of the dead strewn carelessly around him like dolls.

I know that darkness.

I know this feeling.

'Naruto is . . .Itachi.'

//Ku-ku-ku-ku-ku.//

The blond soars over my head, pitching a torrent of kunai down on me like a sudden fall of hail. I deflect them with a knife of my own and the sharp clang of metal sounds like the chiming of bells.

'They are the same.  They make me think they care and then just leave me behind.'

The moon shines behind him from where he stands on the roof, casting his face in shadow as he looks down on me and he has no right to look do0wn on me!

'"Sasuke, forgive me, I will teach you next time." As if I could ever forgive him, there never was a "next time".

'"Let's be friends, Sasuke, because we'll always be friends. I would do anything to get you back. And yet at the first chance, he teases and discards me.

//Yes, my pet. Your "brothers".//

There's a big, indistinguishable blur that surrounds the building and I think it might be the superfluous party attendees.

"What is your problem?" Naruto shouts down stupidly.

"You!" In one great leap, I join him on the rooftop.

The usuratonkachi has the gall to turn to me with that condescending sneer on his face.

//Itachi. And now Naruto.//

'Yes. He makes me believe that he is different, makes me believe that he cares, that he . . . but no, it was a lie. A twisted, fucked-up joke for him to play on me. A prank, like all the other pranks he pulled when he was a kid.

'If not for Kiba . . .'

//Yes, he interrupted the fox's little plan, didn't he?//

'But wait . . .'

//Hmm?//

"Because I asked you to come tonight?" Naruto screams in outrage.

There's another flurry of fists and feet and knife and star and I have found my regular rhythm of dodge and attack, of fighting against Naruto's regular moves.

"What, did I interrupt your important little brooding session?"

Something doesn't feel right, as if my mind is not my own, melted and molded into something else.

//Do you not trust your own thoughts?//

'Yes, but no, this is Naruto. Stupid, maybe. Thoughtless, definitely. But not cunning, not cruel. That's not him.'

//He cornered you, mocked you and then abandoned you, cast you aside like trash. What is that if not cruel?//

I don't answer and I feel oddly separate from myself, the link between mind and body eroding with my inability to focus. My bad ankle starts to throb again and slides on the roofing tile. Naruto takes the opportunity to project forward; digging his callused fingers deep into my shoulders, and knocks the both of us off the building.

The wind whistles shrilly in my ears as we descend.

'No, wait. If Naruto wanted to play a joke, wouldn't it have been better to let Kiba see? He would have a witness to my humiliation; they could've laughed at me right there.'

My vision is turning blue and black.

//Do not be fooled. That wasn't part of the plan.//

'But wait a minute! I don't know. Let me think.'

We collide with a wooden table and it ruptures into a thousand pieces beneath us, the splinters of wood flying everywhere.

His chest meets roughly with mine and his hands slip free.

//You do not need to think. You already know. There is no such thing as kindness, as closeness for its own sake. He is a liar. There is always a motive.//

Naruto quickly recovers, seizes my shirt and throws me against a nearby wall. Using the wall for balance, I kick forward, pushing hard on his hipbone so that he releases me and trips back several steps.

//Kindness is only there to hurt you. And he manipulates it well.//

'But, wait . . .no. Naruto wouldn't. He-he wouldn't!'

His tanned fist flies at me, the knuckles white against the darker skin, his mouth pulled into a grimace. "God forbid anyone ask you for anything that doesn't completely revolve around you!"

I stare at him.

The light of the moon reflects eerily off the sheen of sweat that coats him.

//Oh? Then why did he introduce you to that . . . boy?//

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

//That boy. That reminder of how much he doesn't need you. He already has someone to take your place. Why else would he show him to you?//

'Yes. Right.'

I dart out of the way and Naruto's fist meets only rock, the dust of his impact snowing down on him in gray and tan. When the silt dissipates, he whips around to look at me and the blue of his eyes is startling against the dust that sticks to his face.

'He doesn't need me; he doesn't really care. He can't. I'm nothing more than some pet project.'

//Yes, yes, my dear. Do not lose your focus now, when we are so close . . .//

In a brief instant, my eyes blur and in the darkness Naruto's features change, his eyes deepening from blue to a bottomless, unforgiving black.

'I am the one in control of my life, not him. He doesn't have the right to try and undermine that, to confuse me, and make me seem weak.'

//But you were not in control, were you? He was manipulative, just like your brother. Because he can be.//

I knock the feet out from under him, but as he falls backward and hits ground, the image disappears in a puff of smoke.

When did he make that clone?

'I thought Naruto was different.'

//But he isn't.//

'I wanted to trust him, but . . . no.'

The shadow reveals itself an instant before he attempts to strike, attacking from behind, in what should be a blind spot. I grab a fallen kunai from the ground and whirl around. The edge of the weapon is like a sword and slashes up his arm in one smooth motion.

It slices through his tough exterior effortlessly.

//He is worse.//

'It hurts.'

He lets the blood trickle over his hands and drip from his fingertips.

His eyes show me nothing but a deep-seeded contempt, the intense indigo in sharp contrast to the brightness of blood.

I'm breathing hard.

"Bastard," he hisses.

//He will be like all the others. You will be alone again.//

'It hurts.'

His chest heaves harshly up and down as his shoulders hunch over like an animal preparing to charge. Repeatedly, his fingers curl into fists and I notice the play of joint and bone and skin.

A rivulet of sweat slides down the side of his face, gleaming in the dim light and clearing a small line to reveal the tanned color beneath.

The seething chakra that surges off him is warm like blood.

//Hurt him back, Sasuke-kun.//

My chest feels tight as deep red hatred swirls toward me.

'It wasn't supposed to be like this.'

//But it is.//

'It hurts.'

//Yess . . .//

Naruto takes a half step back, the power flooding through him now, and then he kicks off the ground, speeding in my direction.

'I'm sick and tired of hurting.'

//He will leave you.//

'No. I’ll kill him first. I will; kill him and be done with it and then all of this will go away.'

//Lovely, my pet. This is how you should be.//

I meet him head on and the force of our collision knocks the breath from my body and expels his over me. Its sourness now hides a bittersweet smell.

We crash down but our movement continues, rolling over and over in the dirt and dust and splintered wood of our battle.

//Destroy him so he cannot hurt you anymore.//

‘He deserves it.  For using me. For making me feel..'

He even had the audacity to claim he understands.

"You can never understand!"

We finally come to a stop in the center of the street and the gathering crowd emits a constant drone that thrums in the open air. All of them there. All of them for him.

All of them so much more important than me.

I straddle his hips and hold him down with one hand firmly pressed to his ribcage.

"Then tell me! What the hell is your problem?" Naruto screams hotly into my face, clutching tight to the front of my shirt.

The force of his anger wafts over me, the sharp scent of his sweat fills my nostrils.

"The problem is . . ." I say, pulling back my shaking fist, my heart beating fast. "The problem is, you dragged me here and then just ditched me to go with all your goddamned friends!"

"Wha . . ." His big blue eyes blink at me in the complete absence of sense.

//Destroy it, my dearest. Rid yourself of the weakness you still cling to. Shred that connection until there is nothing left.//

And I didn't know I was going to say that, but it's out now. And it's the truth and I just don't care. I just want it to be over. I am tired of feelings and pain and rejection and I don't want to feel anything anymore.

My hand hurls forward, smashing directly into his face. And then again and again, over like an endless cycle and I can't stop, the aching rage has taken control. The burn of it is flowing down through me like the tears I won't shed and filters to the clenched fingers of my fist. With each successive hit, I hear the hard thud of his head on ground and feel the blood of his face and my hand mix together, everything going red, red, red . . .

Then Naruto's fingers tighten on my shirt and he yanks down, crashing his forehead against mine. For a fleeting moment, I am blinded and I arch out of the way, trying to avoid a second attack. My heart is heavy in my chest, weighing me down with its painful bitterness. And then we are both on our feet, glaring at each other and there have to be people milling in the blur around us but they do nothing and I can't see them.  All I see is him.

//Ku-ku-ku. Don't stop now, don't stop now. Destroy it! Break it! Break him!//

The left side of his face drips blood, the eye halfway shut, and his lips twist into the sick semblance of a smile. His teeth are blindingly white within the outline of his dirt-smudged face.

He pulls back slightly and then darts forward just as I do the same . . .

The impact sends me flying backward, flipping over my feet until I come to a halt flat on my back in the dirt.

"Stop it, you two! Now!"

Sakura stands in the space between us, breathing like she's just run a marathon. She slowly puts the arm that hit me the leg that kicked Naruto back to their proper places. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, a drop of our blended blood slips past my lips. I haul myself to my feet.

"Please," Sakura implores. "I don't want to hurt you. But I will, if it will prevent you two from hurting each other."

She looks so small standing there.

Beyond her is Naruto, across the vast expanse, a distance I cannot possibly cross, and he lets the splattered blood on his face dry like the evidence of my crime.

//No, it is no crime; it is justice. Fair and right for what he has done. For what he will inevitably do! Be rid of him. If you had done so with your brother, you would not be doubting it now.//

Naruto's irises flash alternately bright and deep.

I can see the anger welling clearly beneath his bruised cheek. But under that there's hurt and confusion and . . .

Itachi never looked like that.

//No! No, no, no! We were so close!//

The solid ground I stood on crumbles beneath me.

What have I done?

What have I done?

The voice in my head goes suddenly silent.

My world falls in on itself, crushing me beneath what has become a mix of reality and lies.

I am weak. Weak and lost and I can feel the shame of it in my bones.

Naruto is radiating rage, but he is still Naruto.  I sense no trace of the fox.

Wanting nothing more than to flee, I spin on my heel and shove my hands in my pockets to disguise the trembling. This was a terrible mistake and I just sat back and let it happen like the child my brother always said I was.

But I won't apologize. Uchiha Sasuke never apologizes.

That is how I have made him.

I feel Naruto's presence smoldering behind me.

I'm just not ready for this.

My short life is complicated enough and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it.

I'm not ready.

I start to walk away.

"Sasuke!"

"Let him go, Sakura," Naruto says bitterly, a small crack in his voice. "We don't want anyone like him here anyway."

And I just keep walking as if that didn't hurt.

Chapter Text

There is not the slightest rustle of wind when Kuma lands in front of me. Sudden appearances and disappearances are a common occurrence in Konoha, but I falter when I stop because my nerves are still raw.

I lean my weight back on one foot and stare at him in his inscrutable mask.

"You need to be more careful," he says blandly as if we are talking over breakfast.

I lift an eyebrow.

"All these things with the Uzumaki kid. Just now, the alley, yesterday . . . They do not trust either of you or your relationship. I don't know how much more you can get away with before we'll be forced to inform the council."

Then, as instantly as he came, he is gone.

As if the situation weren’t complicated enough.

The council of elders.

I take a deep breath, a bit more shaken than I'd like to admit, my heart thumping loudly in my ears and my hands clutching tight to the insides of my pockets.

The shadows in the street now seem ominous.

-----

The knock at the door is soft, almost timid.

Which means it isn't anyone I know.

"Sasuke?"

I stand corrected. I’m not in the mood for company.  Kuma’s words weigh on me.

I should stay away from Naruto, there's no debate about it. For both our sakes.

"Sasuke, let me in."

Perhaps I should have.

But if that’s the case, there’s no reason left for me to stay. After tonight, there are no pieces left to glue back together.

It's all gone.

Maybe I should go too.

"I know you're in there."

It wouldn't be any great loss. Konoha might grieve over the sharingan, but we were already a dying clan.

"I'm fully capable of breaking this door down."

And I’m not concerned with their regrets.

If Naruto hadn't decided to screw everything up, we could've stayed friends, or brothers, or whatever he wants to name it, and the time spent until my last days at least would have been simple.

"I'm giving you to the count of three and then the door's coming down. One . . . two . . ."

"Allow me."

"Kakashi-sensei!"

The lock clicks and the door swings open, ushering the two of them into the sheltered confines of my contemplation. Sakura looks around a little anxiously, unable to see me directly, while Kakashi quietly pockets his keys and heads straight in my direction. He sits down on the couch but doesn't speak, not even when Sakura finally joins us, crouching down on the rug in front of me.

"Sasuke?" She purses her lips, but I don't bother actually looking at her. "What is your problem?" She suddenly snaps. My forehead knits sternly. "Do you want to get killed or something? Or is it Naruto you want thrown into prison? Which is it? Because starting a fight in the middle of Konoha is about the quickest path to both."

I don't need salt rubbed into the wound.

"The fox didn't show," I inform her flatly. "It's fine."

Her big green eyes blink in confusion before glancing up to Kakashi. She squints irritably, an indication that he's either grinning like a madman or not paying attention at all. Hard to tell.

She looks back to me, expression unchanging, and sighs. "Let me see that."

I have no idea what she's talking about.

She sighs again, dramatically this time, because of the heaviness of her burden. She takes my left hand and begins to superficially inspect the palm. "Ugh," she says eloquently. "How can you always fight so recklessly like this? Doesn't this hurt at all?"

I watch as she sets to the laboriously task of picking out the shards of glass embedded in my hand.

"Not anymore."

Sakura tuts at me and shakes her head, resuming her work. "That was really stupid, you know." She places a tiny shard on the table beside her. "And you should definitely know by now that Naruto's not the brightest when it comes to tact."

I snort.

That isn't the main problem here.

"He just wanted to include you, that's all. To introduce you to all his friends." Her small, deft fingers continue to pluck the glass piece by tiny piece from my palm. "It's probably his way of assuring that you're really home. He doesn't think about the consequences of his actions. It's always been act first, think later with him. God! How many pieces do you have in here?"

"Hn."

Silently, she removes the last piece and pulls out some gauze from the apparent endless supply in her ready-pack and cleans the wounds, patting them gently with the cloth.

"Well, at least none of them are very deep."

"Hn."

She pats my hand a bit affectionately and looks up. She raises a her fingers and gently brushes the bangs from my eyes, a dreamy, unreadable expression on her face. I let her do this, but when she strays too far, the tip of her nails grazing my cheek, I push her away. She just smiles then and runs her fingers nervously through the ends of her own hair as if nothing has happened. "What a mess," she moans and promptly collapses onto the floor.

I hear a sheet of paper flip, followed by a disapproving growl from Sakura. Her scowl clearly says 'do something!' to the man sitting behind me, even I can see that.

The paper simply rustles again.

Sakura's look becomes downright scary.

But everything's already destroyed.

Everything.

"For what it's worth," Kakashi says idly after a while. "He didn't much like him when they first met."

Sakura looks at me and nods her head a tad too vigorously. "That's right! He couldn't stand Sai when we first met. We even had a discussion, Naruto and I, about how similar you two were," I shoot her a glare that shows her how much I don't appreciate the comparison, "And he just went on about how you two didn't look at all alike and how much better looking you were and wait, scratch that, forget I said that last part!" Sakura blushes a color remarkably like her hair.

Kakashi chuckles softly behind me.

I quickly get to my feet and turn around, keeping my head lowered to hide my face.

"I'm going to bed."

"Oh, all right," Sakura replies dazedly. "Good night."

I stomp off to my cell, a.k.a. my room, hearing Kakashi laugh, sigh, and turn another page in his book.

But they both seem to be forgetting something.

Naruto couldn't stand me when we first met either.

-----

I’m trying to deal with a little of the frustration form the past few days by laying waste to some inanimate objects in the training fields.  There are some certain people that I would prefer to do this to, but we can’t have everything.

I am right in the middle of smashing a tree when Kotetsu suddenly drops down out of nowhere.

"The Hokage wishes to see you."

And then he is gone.

Apparently he can’t stomach being in my presence for more than a millisecond.

I expel a heavy breath of air.

Once I’m in the village proper, I take one jump up to the rooftops and make my way to Hokage Tower.

-----

The fifth Hokage of Konohagakure considers me a long while as I stand stoically in front of her. Being the leader of the village and therefore supposedly the strongest, the woman exudes a massive chakra that permeates the air. But at the moment, it’s the student flanking her that seems the most formidable. The glare Sakura is sending into the open space charges it with hostility.

Tsunade carefully folds her hands on the desk, pinning her light brown eyes on me. "Uchiha-san," she says formally. "It has been brought to my attention that you had an altercation the other day."

It's not a question, so I don't say anything.

"Is this true?"

"Yes."

She raises an eyebrow.

"And you do recall that you are on probation until such time that it has been declared otherwise?"

"Yes."

"So then, if you are aware of the delicate nature of the situation, would you care to explain why you would risk it all by instigating a meaningless fight?"

"He was being annoying."

"Ah, yes." The woman has a mischievous bend to her lip that I don't much like.

But then, Kuma's warning last night referred only to the council's lack of information, not the Hokage's. "And you remember the discussion we had the last time you were in my office?"

As if I could forget. "Yes."

"Hm." She carelessly shoves a few papers to the corner of her desk. "And do you not think that your actions may have endangered your situation?"

Sakura's eyes shift for the first time, glancing quickly to her teacher with a twitch and then, deciding better of it, goes back to staring into the air.

"Those were his actions." The vagueness on both our parts could refer to almost anything.

Sakura is watching me now, her forehead knit in confusion as if she is suspects something in our evasiveness.

I transfer my weight to my good ankle since the sprained one is smarting.

"Very well," Tsunade says seriously. "But remember, the decision is always yours. Make certain it is the right one for you. There is time yet."

I narrow my golden snake eyes and wonder just what her angle is here. It's almost as if she's pushing me towards . . . but that would be disastrous.

//Surely there is something in it for her.//

I'm ignoring the little parasite; he is nothing but trouble.

'Practice, Sasuke. Find your center. This is what that training is for.'

//Not very nice, Sasuke-kun.//

"In any event," the woman continues. "It has been suggested to me that perhaps you are feeling a little confined."

There’s a news flash.

"And also that keeping a ninja confined is never a good idea. It tends to make them restless and leads to stupid mistakes like the one that occurred the other night."

She has made the subtle shift to concentrate on the fight.

"With this in mind, I have approached the council of elders and have convinced them that a speeding up of the process is in order."

The elders are involved and somehow I’m not getting more than a talking.  Wonders never cease.

"You were not scheduled to be joining a genin team until next term, after all your injuries had healed naturally and the elders were satisfied that you were not going to flee or turn traitor again. But, as it happens, it looks like you require a bit more to occupy your time than sitting around Kakashi's apartment."

"Which means what?" I struggle to speak with civility.

She gives me a tiny smile. "Which means that you will be joining a genin team sooner than we expected. This term in fact, set to begin in a week's time." She glosses over that little bit of news as it were nothing. "It is a fortunate turn of events, as there was an uneven number of genin and we were considering a team of two, which is not an ideal situation. But with you now available, we will have just the right amount. And better yet, according to Iruka-san, there are two perfectly suited to you. Your jounin leader has even agreed to the change in plans. Yes, all the pieces have fallen perfectly into place."

Oh, happy day. I get to team up with a couple of rug rats. I feel like a pawn in a giant chess game.

Tsunade gives me another of those Cheshire grins and says simply, "Sakura."

The pink haired girl steps forward. "Yes, Tsunade-sama?"

"Go with him. You know what to do. Make sure he is in full working order for next week."

"Yes, Tsunade-sama."

Sakura walks towards me, barely giving me a glance and, keeping the tight line of her lip, moves to the door.

"You are dismissed." The Hokage states plainly and looks to her papers, with no real intention of actually addressing them.

-----

Sakura and her barely pent-up rage are waiting for me by the stairs. She gives me a curt nod and walks off and I can only assume that I am meant to follow.

It doesn't take long to reach our destination and the hospital materializes suddenly on the side of the street.

"Haruno Sakura," the pink kunoichi declares upon entering the building and waltzing up to the front desk. "I need to use . . ."

But I don't listen to the remainder of the conversation. I'm too busy glaring at the nurse behind the counter that won't take her eyes off me.

Sakura suddenly re-enters my vision. "Come on."

I follow as if I was attentive the whole time.

After a rather mazelike trek, Sakura guides me into an empty room somewhere on the second floor. Fully prepared this time for her to work her medical ninjutsu and be done with it, I sit on the crisply made examination table and wait.

//An improvement, I suppose. I taught you to be aware of reality, Sasuke-kun, not afraid of it.//

'I am not afraid and I don't care for your approval.'

Damn it!  I don’t want to be talking to him!

//Ku-ku-ku.//

"Bunch of short-sighted, self-important, meddling old hags," Sakura grumbles.

I smirk to myself and watch as she digs furiously through a medical cart. After a while, she leans on it, nothing in her hands, and heaves a sigh.

"Do you know . . ." she shakes her head, turns around.

"Do you know what they had me doing? What they wanted me to do?"

She stands in front of me and begins to assess the damage, the deeper explanation for what she's said not offered. Instead, she just continues to murmur incoherent and irate words as she sets to the time-consuming process of healing all my little cuts and breaks and dislocations.

Despite my efforts, I still feel the anxiety seep through my veins. My body automatically braces for the pain it anticipates. I clench my hands into fists, irritated, and focus on the action to lure my mind from other things. It is so stupid.

I know the pain will not come.

I feel the gentle shift of bones as she mends my ribs and arm, which I didn't even know was fractured. The experience feels entirely different from Naruto's clumsy attempts. Sakura's chakra is sure and attentive, a sort of soft, gentle warmth that eases past the layers of skin.

This is what a skilled healer can do.

She moves to my shoulders, and that takes some time as the joint has been wrong since I left the prison.

With adequate concentration, the nearness of her, the touch of her hand and chakra does not bother me too much. It isn't comfortable, but I don't have the overwhelming desire to stab her either. It might be because she is angry and somehow anger is safer, more understandable.

The medic-nin runs her fingers over the healed portion of my stomach and clucks her tongue. Her fingers linger there a moment, her eyes taking on that distant look she now sometimes wears, before her lips turn up into a sad smile. She trails her hand affectionately over the healed skin, but then just moves on. Gathering her chakra, she mends the sprained ankle, which takes considerably longer than I would have thought, then to my surprise, moves to the other leg, spending a great deal of time on the shin and knee.

Her head continues to shake in that quiet, disapproving way as she carefully attends to my right hand.

"It was too strong," she mumbles. "I knew it. Way too strong. Doing more harm than good."

I flex my fingers minutely, wordlessly getting her attention. She lifts her head with some displeasure and as I look at her blankly, she thins her lips.

"What?" I ask.

"You can't feel that?" When I indicate that I haven't a clue what she's talking about, she lowers her head and repeats her cryptic statement. "It was way too strong." Still she shakes her head. "You have more injuries than you should and they’re mostly worse than they should be.  But when I’m forbidden to administer a proper check-up, I don't know how I’m expected to know this."

She presses her fingers to the bare skin of my arm.

"What do you mean?" I ask, for no particular reason. "The only thing that's really been bothering me a lot lately is my sprained ankle."

She looks up at me incredulously. "Sprained? Sasuke, that ankle was broken."

I give her a skeptical look in return. That isn't possible. I've had broken bones before, they don't feel like that. I wouldn't have been able to walk.

She starts explaining.  "They had me basically numbing you, in the same way a soldier pill works, but slightly less controlled and longer lasting. So that you wouldn't feel pain, or at least not much. Which is beneficial on the surface . . ." she moves to my left arm, pauses. "Too strong."

Her words fade into the crinkled confusion of her face. Her eyes are very . . . green. Sort of the way Naruto's eyes are very blue. I'd never really noticed before, but they're kind of nice.

She guides her chakra-infused hands the length of my arm, her face screwing up more as she observes the progress, her medical senses seeing what I cannot.

"Sasuke, make a fist."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it." It’s said softly, but is a demand nonetheless.

I do as she asks, but rather than alleviating the situation it makes it worse, judging by the way her expression tightens.

"Wiggle your fingers."

Again, I comply. It's just easier that way.

"Now just your thumb."

She hums thoughtfully.

"Bend your elbow."

This seems to help. Her forehead loosens a little as she moves her hands to concentrate her chakra at my forearm. She's practically sweating with concentration as she slowly moves her hands downward until she reaches my fingertips. After another couple minutes, she releases the jutsu and lets out a breath of air.

"Well, that's better." But her face doesn't appear to agree with her mouth.

"What is?" I ask.

Her pink hair swings with the movement of her head. "That was an unusual and serious injury, but I can't figure out where you got it." She sucks her lip between her teeth. "Well, I guess it doesn't much matter, since it's fixed now."

My left arm – I have a feeling I know what caused it, but that brings up the memory of my . .  of Itachi. I flex my fingers to reassure myself and they feel perfectly fine.

Sakura likes to worry over nothing.

She pulls away and without any preamble, heads to the door. There’s a confidence to her gait that wasn’t there three years ago.  It's good to see and I mark it in the detached portion of my mind.

"You'll have scars, there's nothing I can do about that." She shrugs her shoulders. "It's been too long." As an afterthought she adds, "You'll need to get your hitae-ate back."

"Why don't they issue a new one?" I distractedly fix my shirt.

Sakura holds the door open. "I suppose because they already gave you one. They didn't tell me. Only that you'll need it before going back to genin training."

I dislike the way she says that so off-handedly. But my body feels better than it has in months, thanks to her, so I don't mention it.

We stop at the reception desk on the way out and Sakura fills out a long form with line upon line of information. Swiping off her signature with a healthy flourish, she hands the paper to me and taps the bottom line insistently with a pen.

"Sign it."

Warily, I take the two items into my hands. "What for?"

She rolls her eyes. "They want documentation that you're been properly treated and are fit for duty. Formalities. I'm sure the council wants paper evidence that they haven't abused you." She gives me a long-suffering look. "Just sign it."

But instead of just signing it, I actually read over the document. It is as she says; a paper trail with which the elders can cover their asses, and nothing of great concern. I dutifully sign the papers, to Sakura's visible relief.

We exit into the warm afternoon air and pick up our abandoned conversation where it was dropped.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to get it," I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

Perhaps, with some ingenuity, I could persuade Sakura to use her influence with Tsunade to get me a new one.

"Hm?" The girl asks distractedly.

"My hitae-ate." I give her a sideways glance. "It's long lost by now."

The last I recall, it had fallen free, along with my last ties to Konoha, back on that day in the Valley of the End. On that day I first tried to kill Naruto.

It’s gone now.  It should stay that way.

"No." Sakura slows to a strange stop in the middle of the street and I follow suit, turning to face her. "It's not lost."

A small twitch in my eye is the only indication I give that this surprises me.

"Naruto has it."

-----

/+/"Sasuke . . ."

I look up from the table where my writing papers are and glance around the room. "Mama?"

"Hmm?" She asks sweetly, turning from the stove and the pot she's stirring. She smiles in that special mom way, but her image is wavy, as though I am looking at her from behind a veil of heat.

I shake my head at the questioning tilt to her head. "No, nothing."

It couldn't have been her. The voice I heard was masculine. But father is sitting across from me, sharpening his knives, his head lowered and he would never have spoken to me anyway. I go back to my paper.

"Sasuke, come here . . ."

My head shoots up again, but mama is busy stirring her pot and father is busy sharpening his knives and it's clear that I'm the only one that hears anything. I look around: mother, father, table, stove. Then I see it. The hallway entrance zooms up until I am suddenly standing in front of it.

"Sasuke . . ."

My body moves on its own, pulled by the voice, and when I look back, the kitchen is far away, with my mother stirring and my father sharpening and all of it hazy and undulating and fading to blackness. I turn back around. There is nowhere else for me to go but forward. My feet are tiny and pale on the old wooden floor and the hall is pitch dark, but that's all right because I know the way.

"Sasuke . . ."

And then a small shaft of light appears out of nowhere and engulfs me. It blinds me so that I have to throw my arms up to guard my eyes from the glare. I have to blink a few times after I lower them to take in my new surroundings. It is warm where I am now.

"Ah, there you are."

My brother. My idol. My "everything I want to be". He's sitting on the floor, packing things into a sack; preparing for another mission.

I pout.

"Aniki."

He almost smiles, almost consolingly. But only almost. It's a look closer to the blankness that he usually gives me,; it’s the look he gives people to convince them he’s made of stone.

"You are angry, Sasuke." I cross my arms. "But I do not have time to play with you every day. I have responsibilities."

"You always say that." My voice is high and childish.

He gestures for me to come closer and I do because I always do; because I always hope it will be different, but he just flicks me on the forehead, the same as every time. I rub the spot with my little fingers and frown.

"Itachi-nii-san." I whine.

"I got you something."

My eyes go wide and after a while, I remember to blink. Itachi never gives me anything.

"Don't stand there like a frog, go get it." He turns back to his pack, stuffing things in that look less like mission supplies and more like angry clouds. "It's over there," he says vaguely, but somehow, I know exactly where "over there" is. I walk to the corner of his closet, pushing aside the long furry tails hanging from the rack until I find a small, unmarked gray box. I pick it up and it is surprisingly light, as though there is nothing in it at all. I walk back over to Itachi, the package held carefully in my tiny hands.

I stand in front of him. His bag is now slung over his shoulders, although it seems to be hovering in midair and trying to escape through the open window behind him.

"Well," he says. "Open it."

But when I look down, there is now a hitae-ate wrapped around it with a symbol I can't place and some crude lettering etched in over that.

"But it's for you."

"Oh?"

He takes the box and slowly rotates it so that the name faces him. He unties the hitae-ate, leans over and secures it around my head. It beats as if it's alive.

Carefully, reverently even, Itachi lifts the lid of the box and peeks inside. The pack over his shoulder begins flying wildly. He looks down into the box and almost, almost smiles, except that Uchiha Itachi never smiles.

He sighs. "It's just what I wanted."

He raises his head and his bottomless black eyes, just like mine, bore into me and he asks, "Would you like to see?"

And somehow I know I don't, but the life of the hitae-ate on my head is seeping into my bones and I feel my jaw clamp shut and my head nod a silent "yes".

And so Itachi turns the box back around, lid propped open and begins dumping the contents onto the floor. Two skulls and their rag dressed skeletons tumble out first and I want to scream but I can't because my scream is full with the blood that pours out of the box like a waterfall. Soon, there is a lake of it, wide and so deep that I'm drowning, and when I try to open my mouth for air, it fills with stuff, salty and metallic and too thick for regular blood as though it has been left out to congeal. It is flooding my mouth and nose and I need to breath and I'm struggling, upward and upward, but I feel so heavy and the blood is so thick and dark that I can't see where I'm going. My arms are too small to pull my body up and I'm flailing more than swimming. I'm beginning to see stars, sharp and painful in my head and eyes and I know this is it, this is where I die, but then I finally break the surface. I spit and choke out as much of the blood as I can. The smoky air that enters my lungs burns with the fire it came from and it is dark, so dark, a sea of crimson in an endless void and I look about frantically but there is nothing.

"What is wrong, Sasuke?"

I spin around, a sick splash of blood whipping across me and see my aniki high above, floating on the plain gray box, completely clean. The clouds from his bag have escaped and are now crawling their way over his skin, tattooing deep into his flesh.

There is a horrible bubbling sound and skulls begin to pop up from the lake, the black hole sightless eyes all turning their gaze towards me.

"Why?" I cry, now somehow able to speak. The tears that fall from my eyes are like the blood that I have swallowed. "Why, brother?"

"Why what, Sasuke?" He asks without a trace of emotion. "It is you with the blood on his hands, not I."

I look down, lifting my hands from beneath the surface and they are red, dripping with the blood I stand in. I try to wipe it off, but the red just digs in deeper and there is no water to cleanse me.

I look up at Itachi and see only disappointment and those are my father's eyes and I have always hated them. The pain hits my chest and squeezes and constricts so that maybe my heart will finally give way, but Itachi only shakes his head, so gravely disappointed.

"And you did it for what? For the one that cursed us?"

And then the fire comes and burns it all./+/

-----

I sit up in bed so fast that I make myself dizzy. My lungs hurt from breathing too hard and maybe screaming too, I don't know. My heart is beating so hard that I'm afraid it might burst. Sweat pours down my face and my back and the sheets I slept in are damp with it.

Under the paleness of moonlight, I look at my hands and could swear they are still red. Red with the color of blood, of life, of death, of sin. And I think I'm going to be sick.

Throwing the covers off of me, I rush out the door, pass Kakashi in the hall and run into the bathroom. I don't even bother shutting the door, just stumble over to the sink, splashing water over my face and choking on it. What little was still left in my stomach burns my throat on the way back up.

Or maybe that's my guilt coming back to visit me.

Heaves wrack my body, though there is nothing to empty out, the muscles of my stomach forcing in to hit my spine and the bile of my memories burning like acid. I wish it were that easy to rid myself of them. I would give myself some ipecac and be done with it.

My memories make me weary and I crumple to my knees like a deflated balloon, leaning my head on the sink.

The room suddenly fills with a brightness that hurts my eyes. The tile of the floor is cold against the heat of my body and my sweat makes my skin begin to stick to the porcelain.

I can't catch my breath. The pain is still there.

Kakashi stands in the doorway, his hair a little messier than normal, and only half dressed from sleep, though his mask is firmly in place. In a perfectly surreal thought, I wonder if he sleeps with that thing on, even when alone. It is such a stupid thing to think about that I almost laugh, except laughing hurts most of all and I can't make myself do it.

My old teacher takes a step into the bathroom and even with only one eye exposed, his scarred sharingan still shut, I can see the concern bordering on fear. He places a hand on the counter and crouches down beside me, still a good distance away.

He seems about to say something, but I cut him off.

"Don't," I croak and he nods silently.

He stares at me a while and runs a hand soothingly through my mess of hair. I don’t have the energy to fight.

The force of my illness has caused my eyes to water, the drops falling slowly one by one into the tainted basin, the stench of my spoiled memories wafting up into my face.

But I'm not crying.

There's too much there and I'm afraid that once I start, I won't be able to stop.

I don’t want to see him.

But there are only two days remaining until my genin training, and though I'm not looking forward to it, it's better than nothing. It's structure.

I have to get the damn hitae-ate back.

//Ah, the conflicts.//

'Are you still here?'

//So mean, dear Sasuke-kun. Of course I am still here, we are one and the same.//

'I won't listen to you anymore.'

//Oh, but you will though. You cannot help it.//

----

Both Kakashi and Sakura have been badgering me nonstop about the hitae-ate as if they have nothing better to do with their time. I've been seeing old one-eye a whole lot more in recent days than I'd like. He's adopted the bad habit of lurking in doorways and empty halls. He’s waiting for me to reveal all my secrets, but he’ll be waiting until the world ends.

I open the curtains to the ramen stand, but no Naruto.

"May I help you?" The proprietor asks without lifting his head.

"No thanks." I quickly let the fabric fall.

I've checked every place I think he was likely to be, except for the training grounds. But that’s a bad idea what with the fighting and memories and isolation . . .

But the two-day deadline is looming on the horizon like a fast approaching storm and my options are running thin.

So I go.

And I do find him, but he’s not training as I expected. Instead, shovel in hand, he is refilling the giant crater I found him laying beside on that day. He's tossing the dirt with a lot more enthusiasm than is probably required, all the while grumbling agitatedly under his breath.

I stroll up to him as if it is the most normal thing in the world. Because it is. We have met on this training ground many a time. This has no effect on me. All is perfectly normal.

I've made my presence more than adequately known, so the fact that he continues in his task without even a glance in my direction is a blatant rebuff.

I don't like being ignored.

I grip my hands in irritation. "Naruto." I say the name as tonelessly as possible.

He pauses briefly in his actions, his back tensing momentarily before continuing on.

"What do you want?" He says the "you" as if it is a fly in his ramen.

"I need my hitae-ate." I want this over as soon as possible.

"So?" he spits, his anger mounting.

"I heard you had it."

Another shovel of dirt lands on the steadily growing pile.

"I don't see you for almost a week and that's all you have to say to me?" His pace picks up. "After that shit you pulled?"

"Me?" I snap irritably.

"I don't know what your problem is, but I'm tired of it. Deal with whatever is bugging you and move on. Make up your mind already. One minute you're being nice, nice for you anyway, and the next you're attacking me for no reason. I never know how you're going to react, so I have no idea what you want me to do. What is it you want me to do, Sasuke?"

"You're one to talk," I remark, but he's not listening.

"Why do you have to make every single thing so goddamned difficult? I thought, I thought there was something there. The other day. You were being . . receptive. Nice. And then the day of the party, you take a 180 and how am I supposed to know what to do? I hate feeling this way. I don't want to feel this way. You are such a pissy little bitch, Sasuke." An especially large clump of dirt flies toward the pile. "God, this would be so much easier if it were Sakura, or Hinata, or hell, anyone else. But no, I had to fall in love with the world's number one arrogant, bipolar bastard!"

My mind goes startlingly silent.

I cannot believe he just said that.

How can he just say that? It’s ridiculous. And that's not something you should say out here anyway. In the middle of the training grounds while shoveling dirt and ranting and mentioning it like you're doing nothing more than discussing what flowers to plant in the big pile you're collecting and . . .

But he's going on.

". . . energy on you. I've had enough of these mixed signals. Just make up your mind already!"

He turns to me then, sticking the shovel deep into the ground so that it stands up on its own. Naruto stares unabashedly and for all intents, completely unaware of what he's just said.

That works for me.

Avoidance is a good path.

"I need my hitae-ate back."

The only evidence he shows that he knows what he's said is in the almost imperceptible pinching of his eyes.

"What's that to me?" He leans heavily on the handle of the shovel.

"Sakura said you had it."

"Not with me."

"Fine." I shift my weight. "Let's go get it."

"Now?"

My head tilts in disgust. "When else?"

"All right." He agrees reluctantly and releases the shovel and it continues to stand straight, unmoving. Naruto walks past me, a little too close to be accidental, but I ignore that too and am about to follow when he stops suddenly. He turns to face me once more, his expression pulled taut but unreadable.

His lips draw to one side and he stares at me a while before shaking his head. With a deep sigh, he begins to search through his weapons pack.

"Here." He shoves a piece of fabric toward me as if he is doing so under duress.

I approach cautiously and the ends of the fabric fall free, revealing my old hitae-ate. The scratch Naruto made is still there, although there was clearly a feeble attempt to polish it out. Now it looks even more like the battle worn headband of a missing nin.

I don’t think about anything that just happened, instead I reach out to take it.  In that instant, he moves his hand so that his thumb brushes roughly along mine. In that same instant, I feel the sudden, unfamiliar influx of that "something" that rushes though my body when Naruto does such things. I start to pull away, but Naruto moves faster and clamps tight on my hand. His face is serious and determined. He tightens his grip until it hurts, as if he is trying to break the bones in my wrist.

And I don't back away.

The harder he grips, the harder I pull, and the stronger the pull I feel toward him. My world seems to empty so that the only thing I feel is the sharpness of Naruto's fingers on my wrist, the pain throbbing and warm and real. Like a gnawing beast inside of me, I crave what we used to have, to return to the time that I knew the scent of his skin, the taste of his breath and the feel of his short, spiky hair between my fingers.

Part of me wants to let him fold me into himself as we once did, when I thought there was nothing to lose and nothing to gain.

But I can't.

Especially in light of what he's just said.

The pain will eventually come and it will be worse.

I can't give him what he wants.

Scowling, I yank my hand back.

This is not how it's supposed to be. It can't be. It shouldn't be.

It isn't.

The strange longing pull that tugs at my chest is a figment of my imagination.

"I don't have time for this," I murmur, unsure why the words have escaped.

Naruto pouts in that childlike way of his.

Then I tie the hitae-ate through one of my belt loops, tuck my hands into my pockets and quietly leave the conflict of the training field.

"This isn't over."

I'm not sure whether or not I am meant to hear Naruto's last grated words, but I do.

They sound like a challenge.

Chapter Text

The scene before me is a familiar one. It is a flip through the pages of my past to the day that very nearly spelled my ruin and maybe still does. The day I joined Team Seven.

The brats that chatter and run rampant around the room look smaller than I can conceive of myself ever being.

For the most part, they've dismissed my existence, as I sit stuck up in the back corner of the room as close the wall as I am capable.

I prefer to be as far away as humanly possible from screaming, screeching little pockmarks of energy and besides, I'm taller and can easily see over their tiny insignificant heads.

Iruka has yet to arrive and, same as the last time I found myself in this situation, this grinds relentlessly on my nerves.

Hazily, my gaze starts to lose focus under the strain.

The classroom becomes overlapped with another image, one of test tubes and jam jars filled with bits and pieces of human bodies. It is the lab in Orochimaru's underground lair. I have visited it enough times to know.

My hands are frantically packing things into a sack, a mishmash of vials, papers, and medical components.

It's a bit unnerving.

Is this a memory?

//When were you ever in the lab, my pet?//

'All the time. But I was always the experiment, not the experimenter. I never touched the jars.'

//Ah, those were good times. Very informative, very informative . . .//

Sick bastard.

The children of Leaf are still present, but appear to be seated behind dirt and stone walls as if they are in prison, the two images in front of my eyes meshing together into one. I toss the sack filled with supplies over my shoulder and do another quick scan for anything I may have missed. Sliding my hand across the lab table, I notice that my hand is black with death and decay. It’s an arm I don’t recognize.  No matter what I was put through, I was kept relatively whole.

//I wanted my container strong and compliant, but perfect and beautiful too.//

'Right. Sure. Whatever.'

//I would have liked your skin to have remained completely smooth, unblemished, with that perfect paleness in tact, but alas, you did not heed my wishes.//

'Stop sighing inside my head. It's creepy.'

An alarm of some kind rings and my ears perk up. I know there is no time to spare, so I set the place ablaze and flee as fast as my feet can carry me.

I hear voices, shouts and demands, interlaced with the chattering of children, but I can't make out the words, not that I need to. It doesn't matter, I only need to escape. So I run, weaving the tunnels as I have done many times before, heading to the surface.

The sound of voices grows louder, but so does the roar of the fire. I'm not worried. Once I get to the exit, I can make it to the safety of the trees.

And I'm almost there. The small circle of light that leads outside is glowing at me from a distance. Not much longer now and I'll be there.

My legs burn with the effort and my lungs stretch in protest. I had not expected the need to leave so soon. I keep running.

The circle of light grows bigger. I pump my legs harder, pushing against my limits and the light takes up the whole of my vision. I am about to be free, to see the familiar cover of trees. I am about to get away . . .

"Attention class!"

My heads bobs embarrassingly, the images wafting away like smoke and the kids reappearing as they were before.

Iruka now stands in front of the room with a line of jounin, some I recognize and some I don't, standing beside him.

My heart is beating fast and I’m out of breath, but I remain unnoticed.

I fold my hands in front of my face.

That was . . .weird.

What the hell was that?

//Interesting.//

'Unsettling.'

//No, interesting, my pet. Quite interesting.//

'And since when do you enter my dreams?'

//I need not enter. I am there already.//

Darkening my eyes, I watch Iruka with feigned interest.

"Attention!" Iruka repeats his command and the persistent chatter finally dies down.

"All right now, listen up. I am going to announce the teams you will be divided into for your training. Each team has been specially selected to balance out each member's individual strengths and weaknesses. These are the people you will be training with for some time to come. Your life may very well rest in their hands and theirs in yours. Always keep this in mind. A group is only as good as all its individual members combined. Work together." He gives a pointed look to every person in the room, making sure to make contact with each one's eyes. I may be paranoid, but I feel like that look lingers a little too long on me.

"OK! Team One!"

The names are called and then the first jounin steps forward and, with a silent gesture, indicates for his team to follow. Three stand up, four walk out.

"Team Two!"

The names continue and each kid is about as exciting as the last. The class slowly begins to dwindle.

"Now, Team Four! Inuzuka Ouka!"

A tiny girl with short black pigtails and an excess of exuberance shoots her hand into the air, answering the call with such enthusiasm that she almost falls out of the chair.

"Kanamori Tetsuo!"

A boy with close-cropped brown hair barely shifts the head he has resting on the desk. A small grunt emits from his mouth.

"Uchiha Sasuke!"

Somehow, I knew it was going to be me.

The room is suddenly abuzz with questions and curiosity, but I have adopted the characteristics of rock. Several eyes rest on me, wondering no doubt if I am the mysterious person whose name they've only now heard for the first time.

Iruka clears his throat and raises his voice to talk over the crowd. "Team Four. Your leader has opted not to meet you here. Instead, you are requested to go to training ground four for your introduction."

This causes another stir, but again Iruka, having years of experience dealing with rude children, valiantly continues on. Soon, all the students except for Team Four have left with their respective jounin leaders. Now only four people remain: Iruka, the two brats, and me, leaving no question as to who "Uchiha Sasuke" must be. My former teacher nods at me with knotted brow, I don't know what that means, and leaves. The little girl spins around in her chair, scrutinizes me with an angry glare and then suddenly bursts into a bright smile.

"Hello!" she chirps. "You must be Uchiha Sasuke!" The little dog that sits in her lap yips.

I close my eyes for patience.

"Do you think we should head out to training ground four now?"

I keep my eyes closed for further patience.

"Do you?" The change in her inflection leads me to believe that she is now asking super lazy brat.

She receives another grunt for answer.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

A fair question.

I take a deep breath, get to my feet and walk to the door.

"Oh, oh! So you know where that is, right?" Her voice is high and tiny like a bird's.

"Hn."

I open the door and she excitedly follows, her dog running circles around her, and by some miraculous intervention, lazy brat manages to peel himself from the table and drags his cement-laden feet across the floor.

"So, so, so hey!" The bundle of energy bubbles, picking up the puppy and depositing it on her head. "I've never seen you before. How did you get into our class if you've never taken the genin test?"

She is both painfully chipper and (almost) refreshingly uninformed, a strange combination. That's an Inuzuka for you, I guess.

"I am a genin," I answer irritably.

"Oh, really?" She puts her finger to her lips in curiosity, without a trace of judgment. "Then where's your hitae-ate?" She taps the metal of her headband as if I do not know what one is.

In response, I tap the hitae-ate that hangs from my belt loop. She peers around to see it one my other side.

"Oh! How come you wear it there? Shouldn't it be on your head?"

I don't reply. I'm far from the first to wear my hitae-ate someplace other than my forehead.

She's undeterred by my silence.

"Why does it have a scratch in it like that? It doesn't look very good. All beat up and with the leaf crossed out like it's not important." Wide brown eyes gaze up at me. "Why didn't they give you a better one?"

I stare straight ahead as the child practically skips alongside me.

"Ouka, was it?" I ask.  She nods happily. "Ouka-chan," it's very hard not to call her that, she's so tiny she could vanish any second. "How old are you?"

"Ten!" She answers excitedly. The dog barks. "I just had my birthday two weeks ago."

Ah, so I am put with the special ones.

//A genius more genius than you.//

The oldest with the youngest.

//A genin at ten. Not bad. A little diminutive for my tastes, a little plain, and then there's the dog, but the child has potential.//

'Leave her alone.'

//Attached already, Sasuke-kun?//

'Hardly.

'You can't do anything anyway.'

//Or is it jealous?//

'Who would be jealous of that?'

//You, my pet. But do not worry. You shall always be my favorite.//

My eyes screw up.

I take a quick glance behind me to our lumbering third member.

Lazy brat only quirks an eyebrow and yawns hugely.

This is ridiculous. Am I expected to be a baby-sitter on top of everything else?

We finally reach the training grounds, but they are completely devoid of any sign of human life. Neither Ouka nor Tetsuo appear bothered by our apparent lack of leader. The boy simply lays down face first into the grass and the girl stands attentively beside me, keeping up an endless chatter.

"So, hey! How old are you, Sasuke-san?" Miniature Ouka asks.

I don't answer.

"Well," she says, considering. "I'd guess about fifteen."

"Oh?"

"Yup!" She smiles brightly. "You look older than me, but a little younger than my sister and she's seventeen." She clasps her hands behind her back and sways. "I wish I was seventeen because then I'd be old enough to do whatever I wanted."

"A ninja never has that option."

"Hmm." She inclines her head. "But we chose to be ninja, didn't we?"

"Did we?" Sometimes I wonder, if not for circumstance . . .

"No."

Both Ouka and I turn to lazy brat, who was lifted his head slightly so that his chin rests on his folded arms and his eyes show resentment. He looks right at me for a moment and then hides his face in the dirt again.

All seems to return to boring normalcy until the puppy on Ouka's head begins to growl.

"What is it, Kohana?" She asks.

Then suddenly the girl 'eeps!' and latches onto my leg. In the next instant, I sense it. The soft whir of movement, the weight of murderous intent. Quickly, I grab Tetsuo under one arm and with Ouka glued on securely, I leap out of the way, listing to one side with the added encumbrance of a child on my leg. We three as one just barely evade the rain of kunai and shuriken that embed deeply into the ground where we just standing.

I release the hold I had on Tetsuo and he lands gracefully on his feet, suddenly alert. Cautiously, Ouka lets go of my leg and steps slightly into my shadow. Little Kohana growls, but it sounds more cute than menacing.

My sharingan spins and I look from each branch to the next, looking for the signs of imminent danger.

"Damn!" Our illustrious jounin leader lands soundlessly in the middle of the tiny metal forest she created. "Missed."

The woman sneers at us, superior and uncompromising, her coat billowing behind her and her hands on her hips.

I really should have been expecting this.

//How nostalgic.//

My sharingan spins down.

"All right then! This is how it's going to work! I am your leader. You will listen to what I say. I don't care if you don't understand or if you disagree, your duty is to follow orders. I expect no argument on this. Do that and we might just get out of this alive."

I shoot her an icy glare. A little melodramatic there, aren't we?

But she is not finished.

"Now! We are Team Four. I expect great things from Team Four. I want us to be first in everything. If our assignment is to track down and defeat an S-class criminal, I expect us to capture them in record time. If our assignment is to retrieve an old lady's cat from a tree, we shall do so swiftly and return the animal in better condition than when it ran off. Understood?"

Silence is her answer.

"Good, then. Let's get started!" The woman leans over and begins plucking her discarded weapons from the ground.

"Um, excuse me?" Ouka's tiny voice rings in the air, her little hand raised in front of her.

Our captain lifts her head to the girl and shows the same daunting expression she's worn through the entirety of her speech.

The little girl is not intimidated. "Who exactly are you?"

The woman's mouth twists into a sinister smile. She stands up tall. "I am the person who you'll be following the next months. I am Mitarashi Anko." She lets this sink in like an impressive revelation, but as I am apparently the only one who knows her, there is no obvious effect. She clears her throat. "I trust you already know each other? Any more questions?" The look she gives us says there won't be, whether we were planning any or not.

She stashes the last of her weapons. "You there! Doll child!" She waves her finger accusingly at Ouka. "What's your name?"

"Inuzuka Ouka, Mitarashi-sensei!" The girl responds cheerily with a cute smile. The dog yips.

Resistant, that one.

"Come at me."

Ouka blinks in bewilderment. "What?"

"I want to test your skills." Anko's mouth pulls into a toothy smile. "Come at me."

Timidly, the girl steps forward, giving me a nervous look, but I'm not here to help her, it's every ninja for their self. As soon as Ouka is in front of Anko, the woman attacks. The whole repertoire, it seems, instantly flies at the little girl and her little ninja dog. A strange thing, but Ouka manages to dodge the brunt of every one, almost as if she can see the attack a moment before it hits. Almost as if she has the sharingan. But of course, my eyes work differently, and are far superior to hers. Still, the child is exceptionally fast and alert. I'm beginning to see how she became a genin at such a tender age.

Of course, the constant stream of high-pitched shrieking detracts from it a bit.

As does the incessant barking. Like master, like pet, I suppose.

And her offense is nonexistent. The dog is doing better than she is. Finally, bored with her test, Anko lands a kick on the girl's stomach that sends the rag doll child tumbling over her feet until the trunk of a tree cuts into her path. In a noble attempt of retribution, the dog clamps its teeth on Anko's arm, but it too quickly goes the way of its master, soaring across the field.

Without a second glance, Anko faces those who remain. "Next! She shouts. "You! Boy! Wake up!"

Tetsuo slouches lazily and gives the woman a droopy-eyed gaze. "Kanamori Tetsuo. Let's get this over with."

Anko snorts, but accepts the request readily. I can tell that she's toning it down for the kids, not even bothering with much ninjutsu or genjutsu. She's putting in just enough effort to be better, but not so much that they're beaten in six seconds flat. Tetsuo is not bad considering his age, but he's nothing special either. I watch him twist agilely out of Anko's grasp and just when it looks like he's done for, he changes into a log and the real Tetsuo takes to the trees. Anko joins immediately after, rattling the branch and knocking a few leaves free. They float down around them like confetti.

In all this time, Tetsuo hasn't used a single weapon. I don't even see a leg pouch or any other pack in which to store such things.

Odd for a ninja.

Then, while I watch, he begins to form seals, a series I've never seen before, and the leaves falling down around them start to shimmer. I turn on the sharingan.

Tetsuo bolts forward, snatching the leaves as he goes and hurls them furiously at Anko. Only they're not leaves anymore. They have been transmuted into metal, the points of the leaves as sharp as blades.

//Unique jutsu. Very handy.//

'This isn't a fishing expedition.'

The main flaw in the technique is that it appears to drain a lot of chakra. One use and the boy can barely stand. He receives a sharp wrench on his arm for the effort and Anko tosses him carelessly to the forest floor. Ouka has just recently roused, moaning and massaging the back of her neck. But she soon forgets her own injuries and rushes over to her fallen comrade, the leaves floating down, back to their natural green.

Anko turns her challenging gaze on me.

"Well, well, well," the woman says. "No introductions needed here, I think. Let's see how much you've changed in three years."

I leap to the branch beside her, keeping my sharingan activated.

Anko's mouth pulls up into a condescending smile when she looks into my eyes. "Orochimaru's test subject."

"You're one to talk."

She laughs, completely without mirth.

//Ah, yes, sweet Anko. Such memories. Shame about her, but such things happen.//

I am trying to shake off the incompatibility of "sweet" and "Anko" together when she strikes. I jump out of the way and onto a neighboring branch and her senbon meet only tree.

She spins and attacks again, using a bit more force and skill than she did with the kids, but she's still holding back.

I smirk. That's a mistake.

But at least this is a challenge I can enjoy.

I missed this.

Her movements are quick and unexpected because I've never fought her before and her style is a little unique, though her chaotic rashness reminds me a little of Naruto. I haven't been training as much as I used to and I've only recently been fully healed so this fight is already taking its toll.

Anko shows no signs of letting up, and wanting to end this quickly, my instinct is to use a ninjutsu. It's been a while, but I'll start off with something that I've known for years, a Housenka no Jutsu. I gather my fire into my mouth and make the first hand sign, noticing a weird tingle in my fingers. But my renowned leader is approaching, her mouth curved maliciously as her hands form her own set of signs, and I don't have time to think on it. The tingle begins to burn with the second sign and by the third, my seal activates. Or so I assume since it's a bit hard to think through the pain. It feels like every bone in my hand and up to my shoulder has shattered and shot out of my skin, carving tendon, muscle and nerve. It is agony, worse and different from any other pain I've experienced, and I'm familiar with many. But this one makes me see stars in blackness, dropping me to my knees.  My arms feeling like shredded husks at my sides. Ouka and the dog are dashing towards me and I curse loudly, I don't know what, but it is enough to freeze them both in their tracks as the girl turns a lovely shade to match her name.

My breathing is hard as the pain slowly, too damn slowly, subsides. I've broken out into a cold sweat, the water dripping down my face and slipping beneath my collar.

Anko drops quietly to the ground in front of me, arms crossed, sneering expression back on her face, whatever technique she intended to use gone without a trace.

"Guess you haven't tried to use your charka much lately, hmm?"

I manage to twist my mouth disdainfully, my chest still heaving, and pretend there are no such things as seals.

"Hmph." She jerks her chin at me, indicating the seals on my hands. "You can defend yourself. But you have to earn the right to attack."

-----

The next few days are mostly occupied in the unpleasant company of troublesome children and a masochistic teacher. Otherwise I try to spend my time alone, at least on the blessed occasions when my parasite remains quiet.

//So heartless, Sasuke-kun.//

Now is apparently not one of those times.

//It's more enjoyable to take part.//

'And to try and find some way to abuse the situation.'

//Perhaps.//

'Just try it. We'll see how far you get, snake.'

//Do not tempt me, my pet.//

In the store, I stow my begrudgingly proffered change and head down the street, receiving not even a glance from the cashier, but that's not unique. In the seedier section of Konoha, the businessmen neither know nor care who their customers are, just so long as they are customers. Hard to believe there is a seedier section of Konoha, but there you have it.

Retrieving household supplies has become one of the duties relegated to me in exchange for the privilege of living with Kakashi rent-free.

Personally, I'd rather pay the rent at my own place. I don't like knowing someone is there constantly watching, waiting, and listening. It is like being in prison, although I suppose that is the point.

With Naruto, it was different. Easier and more complicated, comfortable but . . .

That's a wrong train of thought.

"Teme! Hey, Sasuke-teme! We've been looking for you!"

Fate is a cruel mistress.

"Hey, c'mon! Stop!"

I'm not stopping.

"Hey."

The soft warmth of his breath against the back of my neck startles me even as it sends goose pimples racing down my spine. The shiver echoes through my veins and spikes when I swear I feel him exhale purposely over the edge of my ear.

I tense and whip around and could convince myself I imagined it, except that the mischievous glint in Naruto's eye tells me that I haven't.

Internally, I kick myself for allowing him to sneak up on me to begin with.

"Kakashi and I were just discussing you." Naruto states this as though nothing is amiss. He jerks his head backward, gesturing to the other man. "Right, Kakashi-sensei?"

The culprit stands there nonchalantly, his exposed eye curved up into that exasperating crescent.

One day, I really will smack it right off his face.

"We were working out a few issues Naruto was having." The meddlesome jerk takes a few paces forward as he explains. "But I believe we've settled it all out now, haven't we, Naruto?"

"Yup!" The blond grins at me, letting his eyes squint shut. "And then we came looking for you."

"He was very adamant about that." Kakashi sings this as if it is just wonderful.

Med-dle-some.

How many times must I say I do not want to deal with this?

//You do realize that you've never actually said this out loud?//

'Oh, shut up.'

With bags in hand, I turn and trace my steps briskly back to the apartment without even a "good-bye" to the comedic duo.

"C'mon! Stop being like that!" Naruto pouts. "I forgive you, OK?"

Forgive . . . what?

The instant thudding of anger in my brain threatens to overwhelm me. It makes me flush and hot and the color that rises to my face now is all about rage. I whirl on Naruto and do the first thing that comes to mind: pitch a tub of detergent at him so that it smarts soundly against the idiot's skull.

Maybe that will knock some sense into him.

"Ow! That hurt, damn it!"

Yeah, like I care.

"You're a ninja," I bite out. "Deal with it."

"Maa-maa, you two." Kakashi's consoling tone breaks through Naruto's rant. "Is that any way to behave when you clearly want to . . "

"Kakashi-sensei!"

The panic in Naruto's voice is unmistakable.

I make my escape.

After what has to be eons at least, I arrive at the apartment, beating  Naruto and Kakashi, who have sidetracked into another discussion. I let my bags fall to the floor in order to search for my keys.

And that's when I am assaulted.

Naruto hurtles at me, pins me to the door with his hands on either side and presses in. The keys escape my fingers.

You too, apartment keys?

//You are going soft, Sasuke-kun. And as always, it is the fox that makes you this way. Pathetic.//

'I don't have time for you right now!'

//Then get away from the boy. Be strong again, in control.//

Naruto's chakra rolls around and inside me, enveloping my sense and making me dizzy. When he is close like this, baring his power, it is difficult to think. He worms his way into me, invasive and unwanted, and the flush I feel is anger and nothing else.

It isn't.

"Don't tell me," his voice winds hotly along my neck, "that you don't feel that."

This isn't at all like the fumbling dobe I've known. There is a depth to his voice and manner, and I think the sharper chakra I feel is from the fox. Heat swells off his body and why is always so hot?

//Ku-ku-ku. Distracted and weak, because of him//

'Shut up.'

//You must face facts eventually, my dear.//

I swallow and force out a jibe, keeping up with my established persona. "What is it with you and pressing me against walls, idiot? Do you need help from inanimate objects now?"

"Ah, so there's been wall-pressing, has there?" For no good reason, Kakashi offers his unsolicited remark.

"There's no 'wall-pressing'!" I protest.

//Ah, but there is.//

Naruto isn't paying attention.

I can see the flash of his teeth, the knife-sharp white canines shining in my peripheral vision. He chuckles.

His breath smells of spices.

"You're pretty when you blush." He leans in close. "Even prettier when you smile." Then he whispers, so softly that I barely hear him. "But I'll bet you're prettiest when you . . ."

That is it!

I finally recover my free will and drive my elbow back into his abdomen, hear his grunt, and turn to face him, folding my arms sternly over my chest. Naruto gives me a twisted, unsettling grin.

He talks about me, but he's the one with fifty personalities.

"I'm not blushing for any inane reason your pathetic mind might concoct, dimwit," I snarl. "I'm pissed."

The left side of his mouth twitches. I can feel the cool metal of my keys by my foot, but there isn't enough room to pick them up without making the position more awkward than it already is.

But then Naruto crouches down, giving me an unobstructed view of Kakashi leaning on the outside banister and reading his latest volume of Icha Icha Violence.

It's a bit disconcerting.

Not as disconcerting, however, as when Naruto straightens up and nonchalantly hands over a tub of detergent, the same one I brained him with in the road.

"You dropped this back there."

Blindly, I take it and I realize, with some satisfaction, that I am now equipped with a wall to place between us.

It's my detergent deterrent!

Ha-ha-ha.

I don't know what the hell is wrong with me.

Close proximity to stupidity apparently makes it rub off.

"I just wanted to let you know I'll be gone for a while," Naruto says, suddenly chatty. When I don't respond, he frowns and goes on. "They're sending me on a mission for a few weeks because, you know, the other day."

I wonder if he really does know.

"Fine. You've told me. Now give me some space."

//It’s about time you started listening to me.//

'No one asked for your opinion.'

Naruto's brow furrows over his ridiculously blue eyes.

"You didn't mind being this close to me before." His voice is raspy. "In the forest or the hospital." He tries to move his hand closer to my side. "The other day . . . "

I block him with the detergent.

"That was different."

I wasn't thinking straight at the time, hurt and tired and worried.

I thought he was dying.

I thought I was.

"I've already decided," he says. "And once I decide, I don't give up."

OK, great. Can I go now?

"It took a long time to get you back, but I did it. It took a long time to sort things out and even longer to accept them. But I did that too. So if you think your attitude will stop me," he bends his arms to get nearer, "then you don't know me very well."

Naruto curls into me and I hold up the detergent barrier, but the backs of my fingers still meet his chest, feeling hard muscle, and below that, the beat of his heart.

He smirks.

He tilts his head so that we are only a small distance apart. I force my head back into the safe solidity of the door, half-expecting it to melt into mud and betray me too. Naruto's breath is thick and warm and he releases it deliberately so that it washes wetly over my face. He gives me a crooked smile and rather than moving straight forward as I expect –No, I'm not analyzing that – he detours to my ear.

"Sasuke . . ."

His voice is low, husky and deeper than I've ever heard before.

Something about it makes my eyes fall shut as I let out a shaky breath of my own.

I feel the electric ripple of his chakra as he moves.

"Ahem."

My eyes fly open.

Still studiously reading his pornography, Kakashi says simply," I'm still here, if you will recall. As are the ANBU. Are you really sure you want to put on a show?"

"I don't care." Naruto pouts as he says this.

But this fortuitous exchange frees me from whatever genjutsu Naruto has mysteriously cast. Air flows quickly into my lungs and I blink to stop the world from spinning so erratically on its axis. Then I shove Naruto hard with the tub of detergent and feel vindictively triumphant as he dances out of the way.

Taking the opportunity to grab my keys, I unlock the door, quickly tossing my thing inside.

I am furious.

This idiocy should never have been allowed to start and I will finish it.

I am stronger than this. I am stronger than Naruto. He cannot trick me into handing over control in any way.

I don't care about his big blue eyes or his stupid blond hair or his lightly tanned skin, or the warmth of his breath and body. I don't care about any of this.

I don't.

He’s a friend, if that’s possible.  Maybe even my best friend, but just a friend.

And if I follow the elders' demands, maybe I can keep it that way.

//Even now, my dear. Even now it is about him. Will you ever learn?//

I won’t let this go down a path we can’t travel.

I step inside.

"I'll miss you!" He calls out cheekily.

And I shut the door.

Chapter Text

It's been over a week since I saw Naruto last and while that shouldn't bother me, it does. It's not as if we haven't been separated before; I'd call three years a more than reasonable length of time.

But on the other hand, the last few months have been spent almost exclusively in his company and I always felt like he was nearby.  But now, he’s someplace far away. Or at least it seems that way.

Either way, his absence is resolutely planted in the forefront of my brain.

That's why I can't stand him.

"Hey! Uchiha! Stop daydreaming!"

My team leader's scathing voice flies up to me on the rooftop and shatters any stream of thought I may have had. I scowl at her. She scowls back. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she stands pompously on the ground, watching us like a demented animal. I ignore her and go back to hammering.

The restoration of Konoha is going slowly.

Not because of a lack of labor or even materials; it’s more that no one has a burning desire to do it. And it is swelteringly hot and muggy. It is the kind of weather that just sucks the energy and ambition right out through your pores. On the highest points of the house, the air presses in on us in all directions.

And it's always sunny in Konoha.

I wipe my brow with the back of my arm, my hair hanging in stringy strands and practically dripping with sweat.

I never understood how these menial jobs helped us to become better ninja.

I still don't.

In that, Naruto and I actually agree. But unlike him, I take my job seriously, even when it is menial labor. He'd complain and moan and then not even do the simple task correctly. He'd allow himself to be dragged off by a dog bigger than he was just to prove a point that he didn't actually end up proving.

Idiot.

A plank of wood catapults toward me and I capture it neatly in my outstretched hand.

Slowly, I bring it down and see the two men crouched low on the far end of the roof glaring at me. They are older men, older than me anyway, civilians brimming with resentment.  They’re just two of many.

It is not the first thing to be thrown at me today.

I doubt it will be the last.

My tiny teammate beside me leaps to her feet.

"Hey!" Ouka yells indignantly. "What was that for? We didn't do anything to you! We're just trying to work here, like everyone else!"

It's almost sweet the way she's included herself in their hatred.

"Be quiet and go back to work," I say, pushing the projectile to the side.

Ouka spins on me, her hands on her hips and her mouth pulled angrily to the side. Her little dog growls at the offending pair and then barks once before resuming its growl. The girl is trying to intimidate me, but it's hard to take something that diminutive and baby-faced as a threat.

Not, of course, that she couldn't be. Appearance has little to do with ability.

She isn't, though.

Intimidating, that is.

"But it's not fair!" She whines, reminding me of another infamous whiner.

"It's not important." I don't look at her.

"There's no reason for them to throw stuff at us!" She protests and I expect her to stamp her foot, but she doesn't.

"It's not you," I tell her and return to repairing the roof.

The girl pauses a moment and gazes up at the sky thoughtfully as reality finally clicks into place. "You mean it's just you?" Carefully, she gets on her knees and lifts a nail in her stubby little fingers. "What did you do to them?"

I snort.

There are many answers to that question but in the end only one matters.

I disappointed them.

Just like I always disappointed my father. Or how Itachi disappointed me.

//Konoha does not forget easily. And it is quick to condemn.//

'Can't I spend one day free from your useless commentary?'

//No.//

Ouka raises her eyebrows curiously, but then just goes back to work. Naruto, I'm sure, would have pestered me relentlessly until I gave in.

//It is difficult to rid yourself of something that is a part of you.//

He's talking about himself, I'm sure.

I hammer determinedly at the board held beneath my fingers.

//Silly boy.//

I reach for another nail, only to discover that my stash is gone. Glancing around, I realize that I'll have to procure more from those non-cooperative jerks.

But as I put my hand to the roof for leverage, there is a happy "yip" sound below me. Looking down, I see the dog sitting there, a bunch of nails held in her mouth and her tail whapping excitedly on the roof. She opens her mouth and deposits the saliva-coated nails to the empty space beside me. She barks again and then lets her long tongue loll out the side of her mouth like a flag as her tail continues on happily.

"She likes you," Ouka says, smiling at me. "She's a very good judge of character."

I look down at the scruffy black canine with the light brown feet and muzzle. 'This is a good judge of character?'

"Hn." I settle back down and pick up a rag to wipe the slobbery nails clean. "She's a stupid, furry, little lump."

The lump yips again happily, circles me twice and then settles down beside her master.

The girl giggles and scratches the dog behind the ears. "Good girl," she coos, and then looks at me. "You can't fool me."

I lift an eyebrow and look at her through the long fringe of my bangs.

"You try to be all mean and nasty, but I know you're not. Not really." Her jaw sets into a grim line. "You can act however you want. But Kohana is never wrong. And neither am I."

I sneer at her and begin to hammer another piece of roofing into place. I really hate it when people try to tell me who and what I am, as if they know better than me.

Stupid little girl.

"Just like we know Tetsuo-kun is not a bad guy, either."

Her eyes look off into the distance, focusing on the lazy brat "working" alongside us; the one with the hand poised mid-hammer. It’s almost impressive that he’s fallen asleep in that position.

Just as I turn my head, a rock goes flying through the air, ricocheting off the back of Tetsuo's head and wresting him up from whatever dream he was having.

His body jerks awake and he spins around to face his assailant.

"Wake up, lazybones!" Shouts Anko. "You're not getting paid to sleep!"

Tetsuo's face turns six shades of red until it is almost purple and a vein throbs angrily in his temple. "I don't see you working," the boy mumbles acidly.

Given the drastic change in the normally complacent boy's attitude, I'm going take a wild stab and say he's not what one would call a "morning person".

Even without looking, I can feel Anko's irritation like a presence in the air. "I'm supervising!"

I snort.

Ouka giggles.

Tetsuo actually gets to his feet. "Supervising?" He grips the hammer handle in his hand until his skin turns white. "You're just trying to get out of doing anything."

"Tetsuo-kun." It's the Inuzuka girl this time. "Just do what you're told."

I return to work myself. "The sooner you get done, the sooner we can go home," I remark blandly.

"How come she doesn't hafta work, too?" The boy complains in a low grumble, gesturing with his hammer. Though I notice he hasn't gone back to work either.

"I'm the leader." Anko states the three words coolly. "And what did I tell you about Team Four? The best, the fastest. I'm here to keep you in line, so shape up!"

Tetsuo pouts. "If you were helping us, it would go faster and we could get outta here earlier."

"Same could be said for you," Ouka mumbles under her breath, mildly hammering a plank into place. "Kohana!" The dog woofs to attention. "Get him!"

Dutifully, the puppy lets out a loud bark and races for lazy brat, teeth bared and ready to attack. Sorry to say, but even in this guise, she's not all that fearsome. And all things considered, I don't think the animal is going to really attack, maybe nip gently at Tetsuo's heels or something.

Not much of an incentive to move, if you ask me.

"No," the jounin yells just then and everything seems to freeze mid-motion, dog included. "Just you will have to stay, Kanamori Tetsuo-kun." As if a restart button is pushed, we all turn to the woman. Her lip pulls tightly to the side as her eyes thin and her hands go to her hips. She smirks up at us. "Inuzuka and Uchiha have done their work. They will get to go home. Only you, Kanamori, will have to stay until you are finished."

Tetsuo's eye opens a fraction. "That's not very team-oriented."

Anko shrugs, entirely unconcerned.

The boy grumbles, turns around, and joins us at long last, albeit at an excruciatingly slow snail's pace. It's almost painful to watch.

"Kohana." The pup perks its ears to its master's call, then darts over and begins running in circles and barking as if we are celebrating something.

Ouka gives me a big smile as though this is all some great game and lets the little fur ball continue.

Well, isn't this just my dream come true. A dog that won't shut up, a boy that won't work, a girl that won't stop smiling, and a perverse leader that watches from on high.

Just perfect.

The afternoon passes with little change to this sadistic setup.

Under the blistering heat, I can feel the sunburn begin to form over the back of my neck. My bangs are starting to stick to my face from the sweat. The two men from earlier have abandoned us and now no one is closer than two houses away. I'm sure it's because of me, I can still feel the animosity in the air, but it's easier this way. Tetsuo and Ouka are blissfully unaware. Anko is sitting lazily on a log beneath us, eating dango and when the hell did she get that and not bring us any?

Even Naruto would have shared.

I shake my head.

Out of nowhere, the little girl is crudely summoned.

"Hey! Ouka-chan! Ouka-chan!"

I know that voice. Unfortunately.

The tiny child jumps to her feet and races to the edge of the roof, leaning precariously over the edge. "Kiba-nii-san!" She chirrups happily.

I drive the next nail in with especial gusto, barely missing my hand.

"Ha! I thought I heard you were working around here somewhere! How's your 'training' going," he teases.

"It's going just fine!" Ouka crosses her arms. I guess I should be thankful I'm not the only one he annoys. "This is very important work I'm doing, you know!"

"I didn't say anything!"

I scoff.

Ouka puffs out her cheeks and glares downward. "Everyone has to do jobs like this, you know that!"

"Not me!" Kiba shouts proudly. "My greatness was recognized from the beginning!"

"Oh, really? But I've heard plenty of stories about you too!" The girl's face cruelly twists into an expression I wouldn't have guessed possible. "About a certain mission . . . with a mouse trap and a potted plant?"

Dog boy blanches. "Wh-where did you hear that?"

"Oh, somewhere. I don't remember anymore," the girl answers, purposely vague.

I could almost start to like her.

"Hey, enough you two!"

Anko's crisp voice breaks through the noise of the street. She immediately directs her ire at the intruder. "We're busy here. You've said your 'hellos', now get going!"

Ouka smirks as Kiba coughs awkwardly and manages to collect himself. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," He grumbles. "Well, see ya, Ouka-chan!" There's a very pregnant pause, and I almost know it's coming when I hear the "Bye, Uchiha" in its mocking lilt.

I turn my head with controlled slowness so I can glare down at the useless moron.

"You two know each other?" Ouka, her irritation gone, sounds somewhere between confusion and keen interest.

Kiba shows his dogteeth in an unattractive grin. "You could say that." His beady little eyes practically twinkle at me.

I narrow mine, letting their golden hue glint in the sunshine.

Didn't I vow to pummel him?

//Ah, yes. That would be more productive than this. However, we need to be careful. No point in causing worse problems.//

'And I'm supposed to care what you think, why?'

//Because I am bored.//

'Then be bored. You are quickly becoming worse than these rug rats.'

Yet when dog boy gives me a snide little grin, I feel my pupils thin to lines and can almost sense every snake in the vicinity answer my unspoken call, slinking out from their holes and hiding places.

"Out!"

Anko's harsh command leaves no room for argument.

"All right, all right," Kiba concedes reluctantly, raising his hands in placation. He turns to leave, but just before he does, I catch the smallest glimpse of him winking one of those ugly little eyes at me.

Pummel. Now. Good.

I feel my chakra rise around me, black and twisted and it's not quite right, but it doesn't feel wrong either, and I languidly get to my feet, the power winding through my veins in long, sinuous trails . . .

"Uchiha!"

I look down to my jounin leader and her expression brooks no opposition.

"Back to work," she says sharply. Her hand absently brushes her neck before she angrily pulls it away. Her gaze sticks to me, searching and suspicious.

//She always did have that annoying, uncanny knack of sensing my presence.//

'Then disappear.'

//Tch-tch-tch. So cruel, Sasuke-kun.//

I kneel back down as though nothing untoward has occurred.

//We will have to be cautious around her.//

'No kidding.'

I see from the corner of my eye as dog boy scampers down the street like an anxious whipped puppy.

He is rapidly growing into the bane of my existence.

But seeing him does bring to mind another overactive, noisy ninja. One, despite all the fights and misunderstandings and whatever else, I still want to see.  He is the most important person to me, for good or for bad.

I'd even be willing to eat some ramen, if he really wanted to. I can picture it now, the silly dobe. My mouth twists into a half smile.

I'm looking forward to it.

I hammer another plank, covering the last of my assigned area.

And then I remember that Naruto isn't here.

-----

I stumble across Sakura quite by accident one day after completing my daily "mission", a term I use rather loosely. She is sitting on a bench just outside the academy, her eyes and mouth droopy in half-sleep as a tree casts its dappled shadow over her body.

It has been two more days. Two more days of hammers and nails and wood and animosity. And while the rebuilding is going well, it is something less than exciting. I need something better to fill my time.

I take a deep breath.

//Missing the little fox, are we?//

I shove my hands in my pockets.

//Ku-ku-ku-ku. How many times must I tell you: he is no good. He is dangerous for us.//

'And how many times must I tell you how much I don't care? As if I'd be concerned what's dangerous for you anyway.'

//What is so for me is the same for you. Best you understand that.//

I walk up silently to the drowsing girl and at the exact moment she is about to keel over, I kick her lightly in the foot.

Sakura starts awake with an unseemly jerk. She blinks, furiously trying to accustom herself to the brightness.

"Sasuke!" She cries and straightens her hair and dress and face to put up some appearance of order.

It is so different from the way Naruto says my name. When he says my name, I feel like he is talking to me, that it means something and not just a random formation of letters. Sakura still says it like she's either afraid or flattered by the ability to use the word.

"Tired?" I ask her sardonically.

"Heh, heh." She puts her hand behind her head and sticks out her tongue in a gesture that reminds me way too much of him. I need to clear my head. Stupid Naruto. "Tsunade-sama has had me working overtime," Sakura explains. "What with the battle from before, our numbers are depleted and there are only a few medic-nin left in Konoha. And to top it all off, there's been a strain of the flu going around, and since we need all the able bodies for reconstruction and defense, well, I've been busy."

"Hn." I look down the street. "You look terrible."

"Aren't you the gentleman?" She says the words teasingly, surprising me in the way she holds any irritation in check. If I were Naruto, she'd have hit me by now and I be flying across the road to crash into the fence on the other side.

I shift my eyes to look at her.

She sits smiling, the dress she wears seeming to be a little too small for all her new curves. It is apparently a fairly literal case of the student turning out like the teacher.

//She has grown.//

Uh . . .what?

"I haven't seen you since the day you stopped being my 'patient'." She tilts her head. "How have you been? You look good."

"I'm rebuilding," I say, not really answering her question, but in a way, maybe I did.

'What's with this nonsense all of a sudden?'

//No "nonsense". I merely appreciate beauty in all its varied forms.//

'You get weirder and creepier by the minute.'

My parasite has been growing increasingly strange over the past few days: a new, unexpected, and frankly disturbing, development.

Sakura yawns, trying to hide her unladylike actions behind the back of her hand.

I cock an eyebrow.

"I'm tired," she says indignantly by way of defense.

"Hungry, too," I state as I go back to gazing about the street.

"I'm not hungry." She mumbles, but at that moment her stomach makes a loud grumble, loud enough for the Hokage, up in her office, hidden behind a mountainous stack of papers, to hear. Sakura flushes a deep pink.

"I was busy," the kunoichi insists again huffily, her face turning sour at the excuse.

I shake my head tiredly and grab her wrist, and though she gives a protesting yelp, I pull her through the street, expertly weaving the crowds until we reach the familiar barbeque place. In a weird way, she is the closest thing I have to Naruto at the moment and I want to be near that familiarity.

And maybe I'm willing to admit, as much as I resent him for it, that I sort of, maybe, kind of, possibly miss him.

Just a little.

//Ku-ku-ku-ku.//

Sakura and I quickly take our seats at a booth in a back corner with little light. The waitress smiles coyly at the two of us, apparently with no clue who I am, and winks once before trotting away. Sakura smiles tolerantly at her, but I refuse to look even remotely in the idiot waitress's direction.

As soon as she is gone, Sakura looks at me and leans in, shielding the side of her mouth as if she is conveying a secret.

"So, is this a date?"

I turn my head in her direction and curl my lip. "No," I answer shortly.

She waves me off. "I know. I was just kidding." But there is a tinge of disappointment in her overly cheerful reply.

I've made it perfectly clear that I have no interest in her. Not in that regard, never have and sincerely doubt that I ever will. And she's made it clear over the past weeks since my return that she's fine with that. So I don’t get her behavior now.

"I just thought you were hungry," I state, once the food arrives.

"Enjoy!" The waitress shouts energetically, looks between the two of us and then saunters away.

Sakura keeps her hands firmly clutched beneath the table ledge. "I think she has the wrong idea."

The smell of the dish engulfs us in a bouquet of savory spice. Unconcerned, I take up my chopsticks, pull some of the food onto my plate and begin eating.

"Eat!" I demand and the pink-haired girl jumps before also taking up her chopsticks and joining me.

We continue like this for a while until the point where our hunger is basically abated, and then slow down to actually taste the food.

It's not an uncomfortable silence, but it's a silence that we are both increasingly aware of.

"You know," she says to break it. "I haven't seen him in a while, either."

Naruto, as always.

"Like I care.'

"So you say." She takes up a slice of beef between her chopsticks and regards me carefully as she chews. "You look much kinder these days," she observes.

I shoot her a nasty look.

She laughs. "It's not an insult." She plays a little with the food on her plate. "You act much kinder, too. Before, you would never have taken me here. Before, you would have left me as I was, sitting there half-dead and just let me fall over asleep, in a puddle of my own drool."

"Thanks for the imagery," I say wryly.

But she doesn’t understand; I can’t change. I’m the same Sasuke I always was.

//Hardly, my dear. You are a pathetic sham of what you once were.//

I knead my fingers against my temple.

'Is one day too much to ask?'

//Yes.//

"Regardless," Sakura goes on, undeterred. "You're different than you were. Or maybe," she inclines her head, considering me thoughtfully, "You were not yourself back then."

"Stop analyzing me."

"I wonder . . ."

She's not listening. Though she shrugs and goes back to her food, I am not fooled. I know that girl's mind is working nonstop.

//Is that such a bad thing?//

'What is with you?'

//Simply making an observation.//

'Hard for me to concentrate when someone keeps making unsolicited "observations" in my head.'

//And what would you need to concentrate about?//

Sakura looks at me with interest, and then looks dazedly out the window. I take a bit of beef in my chopsticks.

Sakura's eyes cloud over as she watches the milling crowds in the street and I know she's lost in the past, some hazy, faded memory, and not really with me at all. "We came here a couple times," she says.

I put the food into my mouth.

"On actual dates."

I begin to chew.

"Naruto and I."

I almost choke.

Sakura doesn't notice; she's too busy staring off into memory. I pound my chest with the side of my fist until it clears and then take a drink of water.

"When I first agreed, I was still in love with you, or thought I was." She lets her chin fall into her folded hand. "And Naruto was so persistent. He can be so persistent."

"Yeah," I say, knowing first hand how true this is.

Sakura turns her head slightly in my direction and smiles ruefully. "But it's always different with you. With me, almost as soon as I agreed, he seemed to lose interest. It was like the chase was more important than the win. Ah, I don't suppose it matters." She drops her arm, crossing it with the other on the table. "At the time, it didn't bother me all that much. I mean, the only reason I ever agreed was because I thought he was the closest I'd ever get to you."

"He's nothing like me," I respond bluntly.

She snorts. Then she raises her head and looks straight into my eyes. "I guess. But I also think I know you a bit better now, too." Her shoulders twist. "And it's still the closest I was going to get."

"Sakura . . ." I start, but I have nowhere to go from there. Luckily, I don't have to.

"No," she interrupts. "Don't say anything. I'm over you. I really am." Strangely, she puts her hand over mine. "It's just that," she sighs and shrugs her shoulders, never finishing her statement.

I pull my hand away.

"Am I making you nervous?" She asks coyly.

I narrow my eyes.

//She still cares for you.//

'And how is that your concern?'

//Do you want to stay in Konoha or not?//

I blink in comprehension.

'Not that way.'

"I hear you've been having some trouble with him lately," she quips then, trying to lighten the very heavy mood.

Apparently my life is an open book. I simply scowl out the window. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Kakashi." She shrugs again.

I growl. "He talks too much.”

"Not really," she states, unperturbed. "So?"

My eye makes a little spasm. "He's being pushy."

Sakura raises a delicate eyebrow. "Really? And I would have thought you would be the pushy one."

I snap my head back to her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," she lies and then stares blankly at the food on her plate. "Sometimes, just once, I wish it would be me."

I have nothing to say to that.

But the now very welcome waitress saves me from the uncomfortable conversation.

"Everything good here?" She inquires brightly.

"Yeah, fine." I snap. "Can we get the check?"

"Oh, um, sure." Flustered, the girl swiftly sifts through the papers in her apron until she drops the correct one on the table. "You can pay up front, if you like."

And then she dashes away as fast as her feet can take her.

"You could still use a little work," Sakura says, gesturing. "I think you scared her."

I grunt. "You done?"

"Guess so," she mumbles, crossing her chopsticks over her plate.

"Either you are or you're not." I suddenly can't help being irritated. I dislike when people dredge up all this emotional crap.

"I'm finished," she says.

I take the ticket in my hand and slide from the booth without looking back. Sakura follows silently as I approach the register. Fumbling anxiously through my pockets, I pray that I have enough among the bits and pieces of leftover change I've painstakingly squirreled away over the past few weeks. I manage to gather up the sum from my monetary flotsam and pay in full.

"Thank you, Sasuke," the girl says quietly.

I shove my hands into my pockets.

This would have been more fun with Naruto. At least I could have teased him and that's always enjoyable. And regardless of recent events, he probably wouldn't have burdened me with so much unwelcome psychological baggage.

"Despite your attitude I enjoyed dinner." She says, then quickly leans in and pecks my cheek. I purse my lips unhappily. Sakura wags her finger. "Now, don't wipe that off."

That would have been better with Naruto, too.

I did not just think that.

-----

"Would you please eat like a normal person?" I scold exhaustedly. "At least when we're in public. People are watching."

"Am eashing mormal." He tells me around a mouthful of dangling noodles. He slurps the stream up noisily, splattering broth and bits food all over the place. "Who says I don't eat normal anyway? Maybe you're the one who doesn't eat normal. Look at the way you hold your hand all dainty-like. That's not normal!"

"Everyone's looking at you, idiot. Not me." I swallow some of my udon soup like a proper person.

Naruto looks around irritably, finally noticing that he is indeed the focus of attention. "Well, that's just 'cause they can see how great and good-looking I am."

"Hn." I finish the last of my meal and lay my chopsticks down gently. My moronic companion catches sight of some giggling young girls congregating in a corner and he frowns, sliding closer to me. A slight red glow begins to grow around him and a part of it forms a tail that whips back and forth like that of an angry cat. His normally blue eyes tinge scarlet as his fingers dig into the rim of the table.

I sigh. He keeps doing this lately, allowing the Kyuubi inside him to rear its ugly head at the strangest and most inopportune times.

I notice a bit of scallion that went flying has taken residence on the side of his mouth and it is really annoying.

Idiot.

"Come here."

He's ignoring me. His translucent tail lashes back and forth and a low purring growl emits from his throat.

"Come. Here." I demand, slower and punctuated this time, grabbing his chin between my thumb and forefinger when he still does not comply.

"What?" Naruto shouts, before thinking about how loud he is.

I shake my head and pick up a napkin from the tabletop beside me. Naruto flinches, baring his teeth when I raise it to his cheek, but I hold him steady with my hand. "Hold still," I command and then clean away the mess from his face.

He is such a little child sometimes, but at least the red chakra disappears almost instantly.

"Learn how to eat like a normal person," I reiterate. I release him and turn to look through my pack. After all I've been through, I have very little money left and none to spare over this nonsense. "Pay the check," I instruct, closing my pack.

"Uh, O.K." His cheeks are tinted pink.

I stand up then and stalk off, past the chatting customers, past the giggling girls and I don't bother to see if he's following. The horde of girls silence for a second as I approach, but when I turn to regard them blankly, they start to twitter again. Giving them a disgusted, nasty glare, I continue to the door.

"Sasuke!" Naruto is so loud. "Sasuke, wait up!" He grabs my wrist tightly, but I yank free from his grasp, whirling on him angrily.

The girls get louder.

Naruto turns to them then, and takes a slow, purposeful sidestep toward me. The girls quiet and huddle into one cringing mass. Naruto's hand reaches back towards me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

And leave the restaurant.

A few minutes pass before I realize he still isn't following. Facing the building again, I notice there is a heavy pall over the entrance, along with a glimmer of red chakra that leaks through the doorway.

I do not have time for this.

Unfortunately, I don't have the time to avoid this, either.

If this idiot lets loose in the middle of this town, it will reveal my location as easily as if, well, a nine-tailed fox demon let loose in the middle of this town. Grumbling, I head back and see the Kyuubi tail swaying ominously behind Naruto as the girls cower in a corner, the rest of the crowd gone quiet. I quickly take Naruto's upper arm and pull him toward me.

"We're going," I whisper into Naruto's ear, leaving no room for debate. He is so close now that I can feel the anger blistering his skin. I have no clue what he could possibly find to be angry about.

As I exit, I pull him with me, and in typical, clumsy Naruto fashion, he stumbles and crashes into me. The contact causes the fox to essentially disperse into the air.

Naruto gasps.

I let go of him and continue walking.

"Stop it," I say.

"Huh?" Naruto takes his spot beside me as though nothing has happened.

"The fox," I explain. "You keep letting him out."

"Do I?" He crosses his arms and pouts to the sky.

"Yes. You caused a scene."

"Nothing happened."

"You nearly caused a disaster."

"I did not. Everything's fine." He argues, but despite his outward bravado he sounds shaken. "You're overreacting."

"Naruto," I speak very slowly, as if to a child. "If I hadn't gotten to you, you might have attacked those girls."

"Girls?" Naruto questions. Then he continues on, with disdain. "Oh, those girls. Well, that was because . ."

I tilt my head and lift an eyebrow.

He laughs nervously and waves both hands in front of him. "Never mind."

I grunt and face away. "Don't let it happen again."

"I won't." He sounds like a spoiled little boy. "Wouldn't have happened if you wore normal clothes," he mumbles under his breath.

I really want to ignore that; I really do. But in the same way he somehow magically tricked me into letting him tag along in the first place, into dragging me into a town (such a bad idea) in the second, he also pulls the words from me when my brain screams at me to stay silent.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." I can feel a concentrated gaze on me. "Just, that thing you wear," he elaborates unhelpfully. "It shows way too much skin. Talk about improper . . ."

"It's my uniform."

"It shouldn't be," he insists. "You don't work for Orochimaru anymore, right?" Inwardly I wince as the little voice begins to cackle. "And anyway, it's stupid. It leaves way too much exposed. If I had a kunai, you could easily be dead right now."

As proof, he lays the palm of his hand more or less where my heart should be. My heart picks up its steady rhythm to something closer to a gallop. His hand is warm and rough-skinned from training and it stays there a moment before Naruto snatches it away as though scalded, his face a bright pink.

"See?" he says insistently, looking sideways to the ground. "No protection."

The shadow of his hand burns uncomfortably into my chest, but I ignore that.

"And your ugly orange jacket offers so much more?" I snarl.

"Better than nothing," he snipes back.

"Idiot."

"Hey!" He shouts heatedly and then suddenly adds in a completely different tone, "Ping-pong!"

Conversations with Naruto give me whiplash.

He cannot possibly be serious.  It’s ping-pong.

But he starts to tug relentlessly on my loose sleeve, gazing at the flashing green sign which repeatedly displays the words "ping-pong, ping-pong" in a tacky curtained window. He looks almost longingly in that direction and tries to head for it, dragging me along. I, however, have no intention of budging.

"Look!" He says, pointing at the sign, as if it is within the realm of possibility for me to miss it. "Ping-pong." Like I didn't hear the first time and now that he's made it perfectly clear, I will launch into a speech extolling the many and varied virtues of ping-pong and 'Oh! You said ping-pong! Race you!'

Yeah, I don't think so.

"Come. On." My arm sways up and down with the persistence of his hand. He tries using those big blue eyes on me, so full of pleading, just shy of tears – over ping-pong! – and it won’t work.

"This isn't some vacation," I drawl acerbically.

"Yeah it is," the idiot asserts. "You agreed we'd take a break."

"Only because you wouldn't shut the hell up." Hearing the constant whining refrain of "please, please, please" for several hours on end is enough to make anyone give in.

"Well, being an uptight bastard is hardly taking a break. Besides, it doesn't matter why. Break is break. Vacation is vacation." He sticks out his tongue. "You need to lighten up."

"Hn." No, what I need to do is stop wasting valuable time and find my brother.

Instead, I suddenly have a full-grown ninja latched onto my arm. "I'll make you, if I have to."

As if he could. His mouth turns down sharply, making his whisker marks that much more pronounced. I lower my eyelids halfway and look away.

I can see Naruto’s cheeky little grin even without looking as we enter the gaming hall. I mysteriously find myself on one side of a bright green, netted table with a small wooden paddle in my hand. I raise it to the side of my head like a flag and stand rigid.

"Ready?" Naruto asks enthusiastically, hunched over as though this is a battle over the fate of the world.

I don't answer.

He laughs. "You're so losing." Then he shakes his head, tosses the ball into the air and swings his paddle, firing a tiny white ball at me. It bounces once, goes over the net, then bounces lamely off my end of the table and falls on the floor.

"Uh, you're supposed to hit that."

Which I know of course, but I've also never played this particular brand of uselessness, a fact that I have no intention of mentioning.

I pick up the ball and hit it and the little plastic thing goes sailing through the air and embeds in the wall behind Naruto's head.

"It's supposed to bounce too, you know." He tries to pry the object from the wall as he explains. For a moment, he simply stands opposite me, ball and paddle in hand, his mind slowly working. "You've never played before, have you?"

I stare at him.

He smiles. "O.K., O.K., just hit it back and make sure it bounces on my side." He lobs the ball at me with a gentle strike of his paddle and I tap it back, content that it does what it's supposed to. When the ball reaches Naruto's side, he takes aim and swipes so hard at the ball so that it flies over the miniscule net, bounces off the very edge of the table and drops to the floor. I watch it roll to a stop, then look up at Naruto.

His grin is wide and arrogant, the whiteness of his teeth glinting under the florescent light.

Oh, it's on now.

I retrieve the ball and we start the game anew.

It is, as it turns out, precisely as I thought: a completely pointless game. It doesn't require enough strength or agility to provide any true benefit. And the way that Naruto seems to excel at it only serves to irritate me. Yet the sun has gone down and the stars are twinkling in the window and we are still playing.

I let the ball drop uncontested to the floor and carefully place my paddle flat on the table.  Time has completely gotten away from me, wasting precious hours on this useless nonsense.

I'm supposed to be hunting down the cold-blooded murderer of my family.

That's what I'm supposed to be doing.

Naruto is a bad influence.

"Hey, I was just about to win! Are you giving up already?"

I turn and leave.

Naruto catches up to me a moment after I enter the dark, unfamiliar street. He throws his arms around my shoulders and I’m forced to stop.

"What?" I ask irritably.

He smiles as he hangs off my back. "Nothing. Just . . .thanks." His smile grows wider and he gives an awkward little shrug.

"Hn," I look down the empty stretch of road.

"Where to now?" He asks.

"I'm tired."

He shifts a little to my side. "Me too."

We walk a short way down the street in silence. Then he leans in and whispers, "So, before, does it mean that I can eat however I want when we're alone?"

I don't answer.

He grins with his arm still draped over my shoulder, making me bear some of his weight, which is entirely unnecessary.

But I don't bother to move it.

Chapter Text

The cave is unfamiliar; a hard thing to pinpoint about a basically nondescript curve of rock, but it is true. I am certain I have never been here before. There are small stalactites dripping a substance I hope is water onto the stone floor around me.

I am out of breath, but somehow giddy and excited, and not really tired at all.

I hunch over a makeshift worktable covered in a myriad of vials of multi-colored liquids, picking one up in my black, gnarled hand.  I pull the stopper and sniff it - it smells acrid. Then I carefully pour the contents into another vial. The concoction begins to smoke, but this is exactly what I want.

There is a clack of shoe on rock and I look up, seeing the shadowy outline of a figure lurking in the cave entrance.

My lips curl into a smile.

I have been waiting for him.

----

"Feeling any better?" Kakashi asks brightly as he seats himself on the table. The moon glows brightly in the window behind him.

I blink back into reality, trying to not let the new weirdness of waking dreams concern me.

I glower up at the man briefly and then return to sharpening my weapons as if I have been doing so all along. They are all laid neatly in a row, the perfect, sharp ones and the dull, dirty ones. Kakashi picks one up and starts twirling it on the end of his finger.

"I'm sure if you asked, Sakura could provide you with something to help you sleep." He grins as if he's being helpful.

"I don't need it," I growl.

The grating whip of sharpening is a rhythmic background to our conversation.

Kakashi inclines his head thoughtfully. "You haven't had more than three hours good sleep a night since you came here," he says matter-of-factly. "You're still a growing boy and growing boys need their sleep."

I don't acknowledge him, concentrating only on the shine of the kunai.

"Of course," he continues. "Talking about it would be a help too."

The force with which I pull the stone along the blade is so harsh I almost slice my fingers. The gritty sound of metal against stone reminds me of my sword, the constant companion that abandoned me. I drive the kunai straight into the soft wood of the table.

"Are you going to return these any time soon?" Kakashi quips, twirling the kunai meaningfully.

I grab his hand fiercely and quickly pry the weapon from his fingers. "They're mine." I spit out and put the kunai back in its place.

"Oh?"

"If you paid more attention to your supplies and less to my personal life, you'd know that."

"Your personal life, hmm." He hums as if considering the notion but then just pulls his trusty brown paper bundle from his pocket. He carefully unwraps it and reveals the Icha Icha book he got the other day. He is keeping it protectively covered in the store packaging because he is an even bigger freak than I had previously thought.

All my weapons are sharp and battle ready, so I meticulously replace them in my pack.

Without lifting his eyes from the book, Kakashi decides to ask, "Training going well?"

I zip up my pack and don't answer.

"Now that your status had been reinstated, we can start your alternate training soon."

"'Alternate training'?" I ask despite my better judgment.

"For your eyes." He points at his covered sharingan as if I do not understand what "eye" means and looks straight at me with that uncommon frankness. I stare back. Then without warning he breaks into that stupid looking, crescent-shaped smile. "And so you can let off a little steam. Who knows, I may get some information out of you yet."

//That does not sound beneficial.//

No, it doesn't.

"Whatever," I grumble and stand up.

"It's not healthy to keep everything bottled up." He hops down from the table and follows me as I head down the hall. I shoot him an especially malevolent glare as I enter my bedroom. He just smiles stupidly at me.

I squeeze through the small space made by the open door and hope he doesn't try to follow.

----

My life has become exceptionally boring, a thing I would never before have thought possible. It revolves around the mundane of eating, sleeping, and "training".

In some ways, it’s not all that different from when I was a genin the first time.

Except then I had focus.

Now my focus has been broken and buried with my brother's bones beneath a mound of dirt and stone and ash.

I throw another rock across the clear lake water.

If Naruto were here, he'd probably turn this into a competition because that is what he does.

Pointless.

But still . . .

Through all the moments of my life, there are only two people with whom I spent honest happiness.

Naruto.

And my mother.

I drop a stone flat into the water, hearing the plop and watch the ripples radiate out in their perfect, concentric circles.

In those months between Orochimaru and Itachi, although I neither wanted nor asked for it, Naruto in his own stupid and unique way kept me grounded.

He's been gone too long.

Something’s wrong.

The surface of water stills until it is like glass, any evidence of disturbance completely erased.

Hinata is like a ghost when she sits down beside me, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the dock while mine are folded neatly beneath me.

It’s strange.

Sneaking a furtive look over at her, I see her basking in the morning light, the sun playing down on the arched length of her neck as she tilts her head back, her eyes closed.  Her arms support her weight behind her as her large coat billows around her like some sort of fabric cocoon.

//Interesting.//

'What?'

//Do you not sense that?//

'I have no idea what you're going on about.'

//Tch-tch-tch. You make me ashamed to call you my pupil.//

Yeah, I'm broken up over that one.

She turns to me then, just her head, and graces me with the barest upturn of her lips.

"Want to spar?" she asks, uncharacteristically calm.

"What?"

"Y-you know, spar." She releases her arms from behind her, pulls up her knees and rests her head on them, while never taking her gaze from mine.

The milky whiteness of her eyes, tinted delicately violet, stare straight into me. I wonder how much those Hyuuga eyes can truly see.

I tense.

//Not that much.//

'And you know this how?'

Internally, I can almost feel the shrug.

//She's being polite.//

'Meaning, if she wanted to, she could.'

//Perhaps. But she would not understand what she was seeing. I can hide very well. Especially with your help.//

I don't like the idea of working with my parasite to keep our secret, even less how easily it comes, but I have no choice.

I nod my agreement to Orochimaru and Hinata takes it as acquiescence.

"Good," she heaves herself to her feet and looks down at me. "N-no one will train with anymore." She purses her lips. "It's v-very annoying."

I hadn't intended to train with her, but now that I have inadvertently agreed, I think it may not be so bad an idea. I've never really tested my skills against the Byakuugan.

Once we reach the training ground, Hinata faces me, back straight and declares, "N-now, d-don't go easy on me. Despite what everyone thinks, I am not so d-delicate yet."

I let one side of my mouth curve up.

As it turns out, Hinata makes a rather good training partner. At least for the way I am now, with only partial access to my natural resources, restricted almost exclusively to taijutsu, the sharingan and the most basic genjutsu.

It forces me to think differently, more acutely. I have to carefully consider where to conceal myself when battling an opponent who can essentially see me regardless of where I go. Plus, she is a close combat expert and while normally I can more than hold my own in that venue, fighting the gentle fist is altogether different. I have to use long-range attacks, but the only techniques left to me are weapons.

All the restrictions make the battle frustrating, but in a surprisingly good way.

It's kind of a thrill trying to work my way carefully through her formidable defenses.

And I think I've finally found her blind spot. I am halfway to launching my attack when she suddenly collapses to her knees. I haven’t actually done anything yet so I land softly and cautiously approach her.

//Could be a trap.//

'Perhaps, but somehow I doubt it.

"Hyuuga-san?" I ask, unsure even why.

//And now you care for this girl, too?//

'I do not.'

//Then what is the concern in your voice?//

I ignore him, because there is no concern and no cause for it, as I kneel down beside the Hyuuga girl. Her face is twisted up, her hands to her belly and then without any warning, she expels the contents of her stomach all over the ground.

Well, that was unpleasant.

Her colorless eyes widen before she spins away, her hair falling down to hide her face.

"O-oh, my g-goodness," she says, appalled. "H-how embarrassing."

I just crouch beside her, careful not to be too near the regurgitated breakfast, at a loss what to do.  Reluctantly, I ask, "Are you O.K.?"

She gives me a sour expression and leans back on her heels, her hands covering her stomach.

//Ah, of course, it is early.//

'What?'

//She is "delicate", you silly boy.//

I watch her hands flex slightly over her belly and when I touch her shoulder, somehow, with the aid of Orochimaru perhaps, I feel the second presence.

I pull my hand away, get to my feet, and regard her. "You're pregnant."

//See? It is not so difficult.//

"It's n-not infectious," she states a bit indignantly.

"But," I say, thinking of my own situation, "You're only sixteen."

//You're rather fixated on that, aren't you?//

The girl shrugs and looks to the ground. "Mistakes happen," she says with an odd sort of calm.

"But you were drinking the other day," I point out, as if this proves anything.

"But I d-didn't know then!" She asserts vehemently, raising her wide eyes to me as though desperate I understand this.

I nod dazedly, looking off into the distance.

I don't know what to say. It's not a comfortable situation and there's no reason for me to care.

But then I remember the looks, the furtive glances, and those four ominous words blaring like a siren in my head. And there's a piercing jealous anger that almost blinds me.

//Tch-tch-tch. Disappointing.//

I clench my fists fiercely at my sides.

"Is it . . ." I grind out.

"It's not Naruto-kun's." She answers even before I get the question out. "That was a long time ago. Besides, we n-never . . ."

The anger drains out of me as though through a sieve, but the anxiety remains.

So what if had been Naruto's?

What is that to me?

//Nothing. Or at least it should be. In fact, it would be fortunate.//

Naruto shouldn't be having a child right now, that's why. He's sixteen, for god's sake.

And besides, he doesn't belong with this silly girl, he belongs with . . .

"H-help me up?"

I blink and see Hinata looking up at me with that sick, pinched expression, her hand outstretched. After only a moment's hesitation, I take the hand and pull her to her feet.

"Th-thanks," she says, the shyness fully reinstated, though she smiles.

I end up walking her home in silence.  There are too many thoughts jumbled in my head for speech.

Like what was that stab of jealousy?

And why does the anxious desire to see Naruto linger still, making my heart beat erratically in my ears?

-----

I dreamt of him last night. It wasn't anything special, just a weird mix of where and when and how we once were, traveling and fighting and hunting.

It was at first anyway.

But then it changed, though the change made little sense. Gone were the images and the distinct memories, leaving only the vaguest impressions of smell, touch and taste.

And all of it so overwhelmingly Naruto.

And at the end of it, the only thing I was left with was the almost suffocating longing to be near him.

His absence itches at the back of my brain and the underside of my skin.

Three years ago, I had no qualms about leaving.  It was simple.

But now it is all different. I am like some pathetic little kid who can't brave the world without his security blanket. His blond-haired, blue-eyed security blanket.

I hate it.

I’ve gotten too used to him being there.

I rub my fingers against the smooth expanse of sheet.

He is so much warmer, more comfortable than this pale imitation.

But the worst part I think, as I curl into my pillow, is that for the first time I realize that this feeling, this connection, is not exactly what I thought it was.

------

I don't want to be in the front row. It seems wrong. The front row is the most important seat, designated for immediate family. It is the most grieved place of honor. There had to be closer family members than me.

But then I look around and see that I am the only family member. The teeming sea of people that looks back at me are nameless and may as well be faceless for all I know of them.

Instinctively, I look up to my right and start to say in a small voice, "Ani . . ."

But the man who looks down at me with a sad, crooked smile is old and fat and unfamiliar.

And I remember, as if I have been thrust into the sunlight from long nights blundering in the dark, what it was that happened and who it was that made it so.

Suddenly, I want to cry so much it burns. The tears claw at the backs of my eyes, struggling to escape. My nose feels clogged, but a dribble of snot leaks down over my lip. I wipe it away with the back of my sleeve and it makes my chin and throat clench raw with unshed emotion. But I am the last now, the only remaining heir of the mighty Uchiha and I must hold myself strong enough for all of them. I lower my eyelids and trap the tears inside the black and red of my memory, to live beside mother and father and everyone I knew and didn't.

My brother has stolen my grief and with it my tears, so I cannot let them fall until the day I meet him again.

I don't yet know what this means, but I know with a certainty I cannot name that the tears should not come until after Itachi.

'Grow stronger,' he had said. 'Learn to hate.'

My aniki.

And this is the very last time I will call him that.

-----

This has become something of a routine, these late-night discussions between Kuma and me. I try not to let it vex me.

Tonight I am sitting patiently upon the living room floor while he stands uncomfortably outside; leaning on the edge of the balcony door as if crossing the threshold to the inside is against the rules. It probably is.

"You can come in, if you want," I offer, only because it’s awkward otherwise.

He doesn't move and all I see is the faint shadow of his left side reflecting on the door.

I put down the scroll and move to the next, but it tells me nothing more about the history of Konoha than what a child learns in his first year of school. Around me are numerous scrolls of every size and subject and I sift through each one for answers that simply can't be held in leaves of paper. They weren't there before, they won't be there now.

"I'm sorry."

I had almost forgotten he was there.

"Hn." I have no idea what he's sorry for.

"I implied that you don't appreciate anything." He explains. "I made assumptions."

The scroll rolls up with a snap as I move to the next.

"I forgot you aren't Itachi."

The words on the page become meaningless shapes that float in a vast sea of yellow-stained paper.

"You knew my brother?" I quickly correct myself. "Itachi?"

"We met," he answers evasively.

"What . . ." I start, but then stop because I'm unsure I really want to know.

"He was very serious," Kuma says, having guessed my question. "He never smiled.  Instead he always wore this look somewhere between arrogance, confidence, and a complete boredom."

I nod, because this all sounds like Itachi, but I don't think Kuma actually sees the gesture.

My watcher sighs then, a funny and melancholy sound. "It was so annoying, embarrassing, to have to take orders from a thirteen year old kid."

I never really thought about Itachi being on a team before. I pick up a particularly old scroll, tattered and brown at the edges, that seems more like a collection of notes hurriedly written down than composed information. It’s about the fledgling village and its beginnings as the epicenter of Fire Country.

"The village should be ours," Itachi told me once with that resolute look in his eyes that states he’s right.

I already know that story.

"That's why I requested this assignment." I lift my head and see two pinhole, black, bear eyes staring back at me. "After knowing Itachi and what he did, I wanted to meet the one he left behind."

I keep my mouth shut.

"So I forgot you weren't Itachi." He says it simply, admitting a fact but not a mistake. There is no apology in it. Then he turns away.

"No," I reply. "I'm not."

I'm not Itachi. Be he never was what I thought he was, so how can I be sure?

I don't know who I am anymore, either.

Itachi . . .

"Little brother" he called me.  One of the last things he said.

"Little brother."

So then tell me, big brother, will you ever give me any peace?

-----

I don't recall the when or where, the who or how, I just know that I heard it somewhere. And the next thing I knew, my feet carried me here and just how that occurred is a blur too.

So now I’m standing, eyes closed, arms folded, and my weight resting on the railing while I portray an outward sense of calm. Boredom would be better, but even I don't think I've achieved that.

//Such a shame.//

I don't bother addressing the parasite. I'm hoping that if I don't, he'll just leave me alone.

//Wishful thinking.//

Strength of will. I imagine that he is locked up in a box with no bars and no doors and no air holes and maybe he'll just suffocate and die.

The door to the Hokage's office opens and with a rush of anticipation, I open my eyes as well. And there he is; the one I've been waiting for and he's not really all that special.

Is he?

"Old hag," Naruto mutters under his breath, running his hand through his hair and cursing the ground as if it could do something to better his situation.

Finally, he looks up.

It's strange. It's only been a few weeks, but he looks different to me. Or maybe it's me and this is the first time I’m seeing him.  Or maybe my new eyes are playing tricks on me.  But none of it matters because he smiles.

I feel a vein throb in my throat.

"Waiting for me?" he asks.

"You wish."

My arms feel out of place so I drop them to my sides.

"You hungry?" I feel enormously stupid. This is Naruto, the same person I've known for years and yet I can think of nothing intelligent to say. And why does it seem that everything I do lately revolves around food? Maybe it's just me.

//It is not.//

Naruto's eyes sparkle mischievously as he looks at me.

"If it's ramen!" He answers cheerily. "It's been weeks since I've had any ramen!"

I snort. "Whatever."

He sidles up next to me and I can smell him as if he is the only scent in the air. Pungent, sour, but with that distinct intensity that can be no one but Naruto.

He looks at me, cocks his head, and wrinkles his nose. "I just got back from a mission. I haven't had a chance to clean up or anything. I should probably get a shower first."

"It's fine." There's no way I'm telling him I actually kind of like his smell.

He gives an unconcerned little shrug and we head off.

The ramen stand is relatively empty, for whatever fortuitous reason, so we take the two stools in the center of the bar.

In short order, we make our requests and the old man jots the information down in his head. While we wait, rather than striking up a conversation, Naruto places his cheek in his hand and stares at me intently.

It's annoying.

//You're nervous, not annoyed.//

Right now, I'm both. Picture the box, Sasuke, picture the box.

"How did the mission go?" I need some relief from Naruto's stare and Orochimaru's intrusive commentary.

"Oh, you know," Naruto replies nonchalantly. "The same. Went to deliver a scroll, crossed paths with some big bad ninja enemies. Nothing special."

"Then you're not going to tell me why you're almost a week past schedule?"

"Miss me?"

I glare at him, his lip quirked up cutely, anxiously, and my brain screams at me to say "no", but what comes out of my mouth is a tentative "Maybe."

Naruto is shocked into silence. And me, well, my face is growing so warm I have to look away.

The silence between us is awkward.

"Um," Naruto hedges after a bit. "How about you? What kind of missions have you had?" He sounds proud there at the end, as if he has just stumbled on some buried treasure.

I face him, my composure now adequately back intact. "I'm a genin again, remember?" I say pointedly. "What do you think?"

"Ha! Probably rescuing cats and stuff like that!"

And he looks so damned happy, there's no way I can tell him the truth.

"Something like that."

Our dishes arrive, the proprietor smiles, and I find myself nodding at him gratefully. His smile is still the same as when I was a part of Team Seven and I guess I'm relieved that he acts as though nothing has changed. With Naruto, one could argue that he didn’t want to lose his best customer. With me, there’s no such excuse.

When I look back to Naruto, I notice he has moved a little closer to me.  He gives me a nervous quirk of his lip and an unreadable stare in his darkened blue eyes. Then he lets out a nervous shaky breath and turns to his ramen.

"Let's eat!" And he dives in with abandon.

I snort and carefully begin on my bowl, letting it cool a bit before eating and doing so like a normal person. I act as if his sudden nearness is not the only thing on my mind.

"Another one, please!"

I smirk as I chew, barely into my first bowl while Naruto chomps voraciously into his second.

"You didn't tell me who your teammates were," He says around a mouthful of noodles.

Some things never change.

"Just a couple of brats you don't know."

"Well, duh." He rolls his eyes. "That's why I'm asking."

I refuse look at him.

"They have names, don't they?"

"Hn." I glare at the stove behind the counter, but the way Naruto keeps poking me in the arm with his chopstick tells me he's not giving up any time soon. "Kanamori Tetsuo," I grumble obstinately, just to stop him. "And Inuzuka Ouka."

"No. Way." This little tidbit of information is apparently of vast amusement to Naruto, as I knew it would be.

"And who's your leader?"

"Anko." I thoughtfully stir my ramen.

Naruto grins widely and I expect him to burst out laughing, but instead he simply says, "Makes sense."

I check to see if he's making some sort of joke, but he seems oddly sincere, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Another!"

The sound of Naruto ordering yet one more bowl of ramen makes my stomach plummet suddenly to my feet. I don’t think I can afford this.

Naruto moves even closer and now payment is the last thing on my mind. His face is awash with delight as he consumes bowl number three, but I push my own bowl away, barely eaten.

"You want a different flavor?" I wordlessly wave off the owner's question.

"Not hungry?"

I look at Naruto and his ever-growing stack of empty bowls. "I'm not a human trash compactor like you."

There is no scathing, smart-mouthed retort. He just grins. And moves his leg. As if this is an ordinary, everyday thing to do. He presses it along mine until we are touching knee to ankle and the silly, insignificant contact sends a thrill racing through my body.

Is it significant?

I don't know anymore.

But I don't jerk away like I normally would, like I would have a few weeks ago. Like I should. Because as much as things aren't different, they are. No one else could ever make me feel as angry and jealous, excited or content as he can. Not even Itachi.

//You are over-thinking something that has a simple answer.//

'This wasn't an invitation.'

//No matter. You need not waste your time considering when there is nothing to consider.//

I curl my lip.

//Konoha has given you but one option. Take it.//

'I thought you hated Konoha.'

//And so I do.//

'Then that makes no sense.'

//But this is not about me, it is about you.//

I snort. 'Everything you do is about you.'

And that’s what bothers me. There’s reason to his chaotic madness and unprecedented behavior; there must be. But his thought patterns are so curling and swirling like a snake that there's no way for me to straighten them out.

A loud bang on the countertop jolts me from my musings. Naruto faces me; hand on the counter, with a tower of empty ramen bowls stacked behind him. I'm not even going to count them.

"Done?" I smirk, hiding my growing concern over how to pay.

"Let's go." He smiles and lifts his hand. Beneath is money, enough to cover the bill.

My face is tight when I look at him, showing my disapproval, but he's unaffected, saying only, "You can get it next time."

"You can't just . .," I begin to protest, out of pride, out of habit, but I don't finish. Naruto's not paying attention; he's already leaving.

"Thanks!" He shouts to the owner as he lifts the short curtain. With a nod to the same, I follow.

I end up letting it go because I have nothing valid to argue with anyway.  Naruto remains oddly quiet on our trek top nowhere and that gives me too much room to think.

He walks silently beside me, his blondness glowing brighter in the sunshine and his skin looks more tanned than it was before he left. I wonder idly if he was in Suna.

It seems like forever and no time at all since I saw him last and though I feel better he’s back, I also feel worse.

I am completely lost. Nothing in my life makes sense anymore, and yet nothing has truly changed. Naruto is still Naruto, I am still me, and Konoha is still Konoha.

"You're very quiet today," he says.

"Hn."

"Exactly!" He clasps his hands up behind his head. "Not that you're ever that talkative, but c'mon!"

The whisker marks are deeper than they were, or at least seem like it in contrast to the golden hue of his skin.

I shouldn't be noticing these things.

My hands are shaking.

//If we were to find some worthier companion, things could get back on track. Promises to fulfill, Sasuke-kun.//

"You seem really distracted or something." He turns to look at me. "Something bothering you?"

"No," I answer a little too sharply.

His eyebrows rise skeptically, but when I turn my head away, he does the same.

Hiding beneath the protection of my bangs, I sneak a look back. He takes in a deep intake of air and I notice, for the first time, that his lips are a slightly different color than the rest of his face. He peeks back at me and turns up his mouth. The curve of his jaw is softly rounded, but in a way that shows the harder line lurking beneath.

Yeah, I need to stop thinking. Right now.

//The only useful idea you've had all day.//

The edge of the forest comes into view as we approach the isolated outskirts of town.

Naruto brushes his hair from his face and I notice his fingernails are dirty.

I clench my hands until it hurts.

The gnawing, clawing, burning, biting need to touch him bubbles within me like an overdue eruption.

Then Naruto smiles at me and that sends my heartbeat racing.

So maybe it's that.  Or the heat, or maybe it is my abnormal nervousness, but I do something inexplicable and unexpected and very, very stupid.

I tackle him.

"Whoa!" Naruto's eyes are wide as he falls backward, crashing down into the dirt and grass with an offended "oof".

I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing, just that the need to do it wholly overwhelmed me. I needed to touch him, and attacking is quite honestly the only way I can understand. Beneath my hands I feel the hardness of muscle and bone when I press down on his shoulders. I’m on my hands and knees straddling him and trapping his body with my own. His hair still sticks up uncontrollably, defiant in its refusal to obey the laws of gravity. Pulling his mouth down at the corners, Naruto frowns angrily up at me.

"What was that for?"

But I have no answer. My head is full of cotton. My eyes twitch and I can hardly make out anything that makes any sense, least of all my own actions. I know my breathing is strained, but there's no reason for it that I can name.

A change slowly comes over Naruto's face, the angry lines smoothing out until the only ones that remain are the three whisker marks on his flushed, baby-round cheeks.

The color of his eyes is almost a slate gray, like the sky just before a storm, when everything in contrast seems to glow neon and I don't think I've ever seen them turn that shade before.

//Yes, yes, I know. You think he's cute.//

"Uh, Sasuke?"

I dig my fingers deep into his muscle and his eyebrows rise. But otherwise, he doesn't move, remaining pinned under me and strangely compliant. Not like every other time in recent days when he was the one who broke into my shields, past my guard, catching me unawares and unprepared.

But this time, this way . . .

"Now I'm in control."

I like that. I’m not vulnerable, just like I shouldn't be, not back with Orochimaru or Shinta or Ibiki where I had only my wits to affect an outcome. Here, now, with Naruto, I am in charge.

I sneer. "So how do you like it?"

Naruto looks at me a moment, but then swallows shallowly, his body still yielding and replies with a nonsensical, "Yeah."

He stares straight through me as he timidly raises his hands, but I catch them in my own and slam them to the ground beside his head.

I'm down to my elbows now and our faces are close together, not close enough to touch, but close enough that I can sip the airy remains of his breath.

He is breathing thinly.

Nervously, he licks his lips. "So," he whispers, his eyelids fluttering. "Can I?"

"Can you what?" I return in a vain attempt to sound normal, though that battle has long since been lost.

"Kiss you."

My heart is pounding against my ribcage because I think I may actually want him to. I don’t know what would happen if I did.  I feel like I’m falling into a deep dark well.

I lean in closer until we are scarcely a hair's breadth apart and murmur "No."

His face screws up into a confounded little pout.

But I can't give him permission.

Because I want to but I don't. Or I think I do, but I can't. Or won't. There are no assurances for me to hold onto and no solid ground to stand on.

So Naruto will have to make the decision.

And he does.

The muscles in his neck strain slight and sharp as he tips up to me, his eyes falling closed, and he gently presses his lips to mine.

The electric shock in my brain from my parasitic intruder is almost physically painful.

But I have other things on my mind besides Orochimaru's virulent protest.

Naruto's lips are chapped as he parts them slightly, flicking his tongue out to slide along my lower lip. It is a gentle movement that I barely feel, but affects me all the more because of it. My vision begins to blur.

In my head Orochimaru's protesting voice echoes persistently and it sounds an awful lot like mine.

Naruto presses his palms up harshly against mine and his short nails dig into the back of my hands. I drive back, gripping my fingers, the force, the minor pain, is arousing.

Yet my rational side still reminds me of all the demands made of me, the expectation, obligations and threats that hang over my head.

Insistently, Naruto leans upward, sliding his warm, velvety tongue along the seam of my mouth. Everything else disappears until all that remains is the feel of him, his hands, his lips, his tongue, and the desire I can practically feel leaking through his skin. A gentle breeze whips up, filling my nose with his powerful scent like pheromones.

My need, my yearning, spikes until I am dizzy.

But it matters little what I want.

Then Naruto whines deep in the back of his throat, sending vibrations rippling through my body, all the way down to my blood.

Ah, fuck it.

I close my eyes.

And kiss him back.

Chapter Text

It's not what I expected.

Not that I expected anything, because I didn't.

This is entirely unexpected.

Where was I?

There is a delighted sort of squeal, a bit girlish and I'd like to laugh at him, but with the next moment I can't. Because suddenly I can feel and taste Naruto deep in the back of my throat and it is enough to make me light-headed.

It is not rushed or violent as I suppose it ought to be with all the pent-up tension and conflicting emotions that have always existed between us. Instead, it is clumsy and inept and messy and somewhat embarrassing.

It is my first kiss.

Not counting the accidental one forced on me three and a half years ago.

Both have been with Naruto.

Funny that.

I'm not going to say it's perfect and everything I ever wanted and waited for because it's not. It is a mix of many things but none of it is that perfection sort of dreamy romantic crap. And I am hardly a dreamy romantic.

Yet it is what it is and I suppose because of the awkward, uncomfortable clumsiness of it, it is a variety of perfect.

And now I am being sappy.

I am never sappy.

He still has the salty, spicy taste of ramen, but there is another flavor that lingers just below the surface. Deep and rich and earthy and like nothing I've ever tasted before and I think that it is the unique flavor of Naruto himself.

His tongue feels thick and heavy in my mouth and the low noise in his chest changes, growing guttural and I'm not so sure it's altogether human anymore. He slowly slides his tongue along mine, his breath and voice hard against me and . . .

He seems to know what he’s doing, but I don’t and I'm not sure how I feel about that. Someone else has had this; someone else has sampled what should be mine.

Naruto should be mine.

Always mine.

I simply follow my instinct and his lead, though it still irks me. Naruto, better at something than I am.

It’s terrible that I’m sure it’s true.

But still, it is thrilling and sweet and almost a little sinful to be kissing my best friend.

And very, very weird.

And I just, I just . . .

I don't know.

The groan this time comes from me, rolling over our entwined tongues and I just don't care.

We come apart with a wet pop as Naruto drops away, sending a sudden warm burst of air over my face. Opening my eyes, I feel foggy and faint; my breath coming in short, ragged gasps and every nerve in my body is humming in a way I have never felt before. Naruto gazes up at me with those big blue eyes shining in the shadow of his face and his mouth drawn into the biggest, widest, goofiest grin I think I have ever seen.

I wonder what I look like, dazed and panting like an idiot.

He whispers huskily into the space between us. "Sasuke . . ."

I have nothing to say.

He tries to reach up to me, but that’s too much so I drive his hands harder into the dirt beneath them. Slowly, I push our conjoined hands up above his head, feeling his nails break skin and drag blood along his fingertips as he pulls them up to my knuckles. My breath catches in my throat.

That new, unfamiliar sensation is coiling down in the depths of my self, white and sharp, and it makes it very difficult to think about anything else.

My heart is pounding so loud and fast in my chest that there's no way he can't hear it.

The small cuts in my hands throb weakly and a tiny amount of blood trickles over them, just enough to drip into the grass and stain it slightly pink. Naruto just lays there, his hair splayed out around him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggles for air.

He looks really good like that . . .

I lean down close to him, our lips almost touching but not, and breathe in the last of the breath that escapes him.

His hands keep pressing harder against mine and I know he's fighting to touch me.

And I want him to. I want to feel his hands on my skin, but at the same time, at the same time . . .

Part of me wants him to stop.

Part of me anticipates him hurting me.

And part of me, the part I desperately want to deny, wants him to drive his nails deep into my skin until I feel the slice of them through my flesh.

It is wrong and I'm not ready for this.

I'm not ready for him to see what I really am because it’s different and worse, than what he thinks.

If he looks at me, he'll see all that's wrong and dark twisted there, so I lower my forehead to the ground beside his face, sliding my cheek against his. His skin is much softer than I would have imagined.  The first inklings of hair tickle my face as his warm breath brushes the edge of my ear.

It is an achingly peaceful moment that I just don't want to end.

And then, inexplicably and without warning, Naruto releases a great peal of laughter as if he has just been witness to the funniest joke in the world. It is loud and coarse, echoing off the great expanse of trees and it is just so Naruto. The vibrations of it ripple through my cheek and body and I smirk at his audacious idiocy. And the palpable tension of the situation seems to drift away into nothing. Good-naturedly, as much as I can be in such a situation, I punch him in the shoulder and he recaptures my hand with his own, twining our fingers together, pale white contrasting starkly with golden tan.

Eventually his laughter subsides and ends in a sigh that ruffles my hair.

He takes a breath and brings our linked hands to his face, tenderly kissing the injured knuckles. It is a gesture so . . . affectionate that it completely alters the atmosphere.

Then the whole world goes still.

Because Naruto begins to slowly drag his tongue along the back of my hand and laves up the small traces of blood like some sort of animal. I should be disgusted, I know, yet I turn to watch, unable to look away. His tongue feels so . . .

And that coiling within me twists tighter and tighter, deep within my gut, sharp and sweet and so close to pain but not. He stops with one last fleeting kiss and the feeling lingers briefly before painfully filtering off as if it no longer knows what to do. He brings our linked hands down to his chest while his other pulls free and begins stroking the side of my arm. I am in such shock at the moment that I don't think to let any of it bother me.

Because it should, shouldn't it?

My eyes are wide when I turn to look at my hand driving into the dirt.

"Sasuke."

His voice startles me because it sounds normal, so much like the old Naruto. The Naruto I wanted so much to see; the Naruto that I . . .

I swallow back the saliva that has pooled in the dip of my mouth and lift my head to face the trees.

And everything stops, like the crash of a runaway cart into a solid brick wall.

Staring back at me from the interlocking curtain of leaves are circle black eyes surrounded by a face of white and black and red. The stare is intense and calculating as if tabulating every nuance of the moment.

'Any more and we will have to inform the council.'

And my crystalline future shatters into a thousand jagged pieces, lodging straight into my long dead, yet rapidly beating heart.

It all went downhill from there.

-------

I've never really thought about it before.

Being gay.

Of course to be fair, I've never really thought about being straight either. I've never truly considered anything because there wasn't "anything" to consider. There wasn’t any time for it and there wasn’t supposed to be future past Itachi.

The fact that he's male doesn't really bother me.

The fact that he's Naruto is annoying because Naruto is annoying.

But none of that is it.  I can’t allow there to be anyone.

If I let him, Naruto could rule my every action, hurt me at every turn, and destroy me from the inside out.

Everything in me is twisted up and rotten and what should go together just doesn't anymore. He wouldn't understand.

And I don’t want him to.

This is doomed from the start.

I pull away, keeping my eyes on him as I lean back on my heels. When I flick my eyes back up, the mask and any trace of the ANBU wearing it has completely vanished, off no doubt to inform the elders.

It changes everything.

//Sets thing to rights, you mean.//

My mysteriously absent parasite has returned at the worst possible moment. What a knack he has for that.

'Your opinion. And I see no reason why I should care about that.'

I move back to sit on Naruto's thighs, his legs stretched out beneath me. He follows, his hand on my chest as if a string attaches us, until he too is sitting up. Then he releases me and puts his hands on the ground behind him, resting his weight backward.

He is still wearing that goofy grin.

"What," he asks. He is breathless.

I show him my displeasure. "Don't get the wrong idea."

He smiles bigger, his eyes crinkling closed. "I think it would be pretty hard to get the wrong idea."

A growl issues from my throat. "This was a mistake."

"Oh, I don't think it was that bad," he says offhandedly.

'That bad'? My eyes slim to nothing as I try to restrain my mounting rage.

But he just grins and laughs and leans forward, cupping my chin in his two hands. "In fact, I'd say it was pretty good. And besides, we have plenty of time." He whispers the last two words softly over my mouth, "to practice."

And he catches me unawares to kiss me once more, his lips plump and warm and there it is again, rolling and wrapping and enveloping me, the sudden desire to swallow him whole or let him swallow me.

It doesn't much matter which.

Without conscious thought, I grip his thigh, my fingers cutting through the fabric of his pants. I push forward until his head falls back under mine. His neck arches harshly as he fights to keep contact while still retaining balance. I'm up to my knees now, taller than him, my mouth working to press his head as far back as it will go. One of his hands has moved from my face so that his fingers can lace through my long bangs. I can feel his tongue mapping out the contours of my mouth and I push back with mine, neither of us giving ground.

There's a little bit of pain at the back of my neck where his nails bite into the sensitive skin near my spine.

I keep pushing as if however close I can get is never close enough.

But then once again there is the need to breathe.

I release him almost violently, the separation making a smacking sound, and scowl down at him. His face is flushed pink, but the blue of his eyes seen through the drowsy slits of his lids glows. One side of his mouth quirks up, showing me the white sharpness of his teeth.

I feel the deep rise and fall of his chest with hands that have somehow made their way beneath his shirt.  Quickly, I pull my fingers down across the taut muscles of his belly and hear the hiss he makes through his teeth.

I fall back to my heels and roll to my feet in one smooth motion.

Naruto watches curiously from the ground.

"No," I state.

"No," he asks, puzzled.

"No," I repeat adamantly, taking a step back and feeling the atmosphere pitch. "You can't kiss me."

He chuckles and lowers his head, shaking it in disbelief. "I think it's too late for that. I already did." Tilting his head, he peers at me from under long blond lashes. "And you kissed me back."

Panting still, I stare at him. "Well, it's not happening again."

"Why not?" He questions cheekily. "That last one," he rubs the back of his neck, "hurt a little bit, but, um, yeah. You know." Raising his head, he suggestively runs the tip of his tongue roughly beneath that razor canine.

I wonder what those teeth would feel like . . .

No! This is enough of this.

//Quite indeed.//

'No one asked your opinion. Why don't you be a good boy and go back to your little room?'