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Chapter Text

Itachi Uchiha exits the inn through the large hole blasted through the wall, and his partner follows right on his heels. He doesn’t even glance back at his brother, just leaps through the circle of black flames and flees.

Naruto steps forward, eyes wide. Jiraiya’s arm snaps out to halt him before he can get any closer to the strange fire. “Don’t touch it!”

The boy stops immediately, stunned by the sharpness in the man’s voice. Jiraiya pulls out a scroll from his belt, then knees down on the floor. The scroll is covered in black writing Naruto doesn’t understand, but when Jiraiya presses his hand against it, the black flames are sealed safely into the scroll. He rolls it back up and returns it to his waist.

What the hell was that? Naruto wants to demand. He has a dozen questions he wants to ask, but there’s something much more important that steals his attention.

Sasuke is slumped against the wall on the floor, motionless. Naruto falls down by his side. His heart jumps into his throat at his teammate’s battered, lifeless body, because he remembers this scene. He’s been here before. He remembers holding Sasuke’s senbon-littered body in his arms, tears hot against his cheeks and blood slippery on his hands. He remembers the anguish that spiked through his heart, at the realization that he’d lost something he hadn’t realized he’d miss.

No, Naruto thinks, the same desperation rising in his chest. Sasuke looks the same as he did then—bruised and beaten and so very, very still.

Naruto sees Sasuke’s chest move, and his breath escapes him in an overwhelming wave of relief.

“Sasuke?” Naruto says. His hands hover uncertainly over the other boy’s body, shaking slightly. He looks worse than his battle with Haku, Naruto realizes. Even more fragile. Naruto can’t stop seeing the way he was carelessly thrown around, can’t stop hearing the sound of his screams and his bones breaking.

At least, with Haku, it was a real fight. This was just a beatdown.

Itachi Uchiha. Sasuke’s brother. Naruto can still see his cold eyes—the expression on Sasuke’s face as he glared into them, with more hatred than Naruto thought a person capable of feeling. They were complete opposites as they faced off, despite their eerily similar appearances. One made of ice and the other made of fire.

Naruto shivers as he remembers the words. Naruto is the prize the Akatsuki is after.

Why? What did that mean?

For now, Naruto tries to shove down the questions spinning in his brain. He tries to stop the sounds of Sasuke’s screams from echoing in his ears. He’s never heard anyone scream like that before, in utter and complete agony. And for it to be Sasuke, who is always so cool and composed no matter the situation…

Jiraiya walks over to his pupil, the expression on his face grave in a way the blonde’s never seen before today. “Naruto.”

Naruto ignores him. He clenches his teeth as Sasuke remains unmoving, fear replacing the previous relief that he’s alive. Naruto grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. “Sasuke! Sasuke! Wake up, you bastard!”

Jiraiya places a hand on Naruto’s shoulder to stop him. “Naruto,” he repeats, firmer this time, “stop. He could have a concussion.”

Naruto stops shaking him immediately, but keeps his hands on Sasuke’s shoulders. Jiraiya crouches down next to him, his mouth tightening as he looks at Sasuke more closely, and Naruto watches him anxiously.

“What is it? He’s gonna be okay, right?”

Jiraiya places his fingers on the side of Sasuke’s neck, waiting. After a few seconds, his expression eases slightly and he pulls back. “His pulse is strong. Still, his breathing is rattling slightly. He could have a punctured lung. He needs to be taken to a hospital, immediately.”

Naruto feels alarm go through him. Punctured lung? That doesn’t sound good at all.

Jiraiya shakes his head. “What was the boy thinking, running in after Itachi like that?”

Naruto scowls, anger sparking slightly at the disapproving tone. “Why did you let him, then? You just stood there while he was getting the crap beaten out of him!”

The white-haired man winces. “Naruto, I—”

He never gets to finish whatever excuse he’s going to make. At that moment, a large green blur crashes through the open wall of the building where the two missing-nin just fled through, yelling out a war cry. Jiraiya has no time to react as a foot collides full-force with his face.

Naruto leans instinctively over to shield Sasuke. The green blur is Gai-sensei, standing splendorous in his garish jumpsuit. “Ha-ha! Victory is mine, you foul—”

His eyes finally catch up with his mouth as he processes the scene in front of him: Jiraiya shoving himself off the floor with an irate expression, stemming the rapid flow of blood from his nostrils and a large boot print on his right cheek.

“Oh,” Gai says, eyes widening and the grin slipping from his face. “Oops.”

“Oops?!” Jiraiya repeats angrily. His voice comes out thick and garbled, his hand pressed against his bloody nose. “What the hell was that?!”

Gai laughs awkwardly as Jiraiya pulls out some gauze to staunch the blood and wipe off his face. “I am deeply sorry!” he says loudly. “I was using the reflection of my headband to see inside and spied two shadowy figures! I mistook you for the enemy!”

“The enemy is gone,” Jiraiya grumbles, still glaring. “You better hope you didn’t break my nose. You knew they were coming here?”

The jounin-sensei nods. “Yes. They came to Konoha first, looking for Naruto. Sasuke overheard and went chasing after them.” His expression sobers, becoming pained, as he looks at the dark-haired boy’s battered body. “I tried to reach him in time to stop him. I see I came too late.”

Naruto’s mind is abuzz with questions. He’s so confused. “Konoha?” he says, eyes wide. “Is everyone okay?”

“Kakashi went head-to-head against Itachi. I’m afraid even his elite moves were no match for the likes of him. He was hurt rather badly.”

Naruto straightens, blue eyes widening. “Kakashi-sensei?! Is he—”

“He’s going to be alright,” Gai is quick to reassure him. “Don’t you worry! Nothing can keep my rival down for long!”

Naruto feels some of the fear in his chest dissipate at the words, but he still feels extremely worried and anxious. Sasuke being taken down so easily is one thing, but Kakashi is another. He feels chilled by the idea. And the knowledge that someone so powerful is after him… what would have happened if Jiraiya didn’t show up?

That shark guy would have cut my legs off, Naruto thinks, recalling the words and the sword slicing down. I probably would have bled to death.

He shudders at the mental image.

Gai’s eyes fall back down to Sasuke. “Itachi did this, I presume. Is the damage bad?”

“He needs medical attention,” says Jiraiya. “He came rushing at Itachi. Foolish kid. Don’t know what he thought he could possibly do against him.”

“And you didn’t do anything,” Naruto snaps, once again angry at the man for reproaching Sasuke’s actions. In a different situation, Naruto would enjoy telling Sasuke how thoughtless his actions were—perhaps it would take the arrogant bastard down a peg or two. But not now. Sasuke is seriously hurt, and Jiraiya didn’t even try to step in to help him out.

Jiraiya winces slightly. “I was trying to give Sasuke a chance to fight his own battle. He told us to stay out of it.”

“He was being an idiot! You weren’t supposed to listen to him!”

The Toad Sage looks at him for a moment, and there’s regret on his face, but he says nothing to the words. With a grimace, he looks away from Naruto to Gai. “Itachi put him in some sort of genjutsu. I don’t know what it did, but the way he screamed… there could be mental damage.”

Gai’s eyes widen slightly. “A genjutsu, you said?”

“Yes, why?”

“Kakashi was hit by a genjutsu as well.” Naruto catches the worried grimace that flickers across Gai’s face. “If they were one and the same… no, it doesn’t bear thinking about now. Give Sasuke to me. I’ll take him back to Konoha.”

Naruto tenses, drawing closer to his teammate. He doesn’t want anyone to take him from him. He needs to know he’s going to be okay.

Gai’s face softens when he sees the genin’s expression. He crouches down on the floor next to him, at the boy’s level. “Naruto,” he says. The gentleness in his voice is off-putting from someone usually so loud and upbeat. “I’m going to get him help, but I need you to let me pick him up. I promise to hurt him as little as possible.”

Naruto hesitates, but he lets his hands slide from Sasuke’s shoulders. He scoots back slightly, allowing the older shinobi to take Sasuke into his arms. He’s careful as he picks the boy up, doing his best not to jostle any of his injuries, but Naruto still can’t help but wince.

“You don’t think he’s coming back?” Gai asks. His voice lowers slightly as his eyes flicker briefly to Naruto. “You think they were after him because…?”

Jiraiya nods. Naruto grinds his teeth, feeling a burst of frustration at everyone still keeping secrets from him. He thought he was finally done with that when he learned about the Kyuubi, but still, the adults continued never telling him anything.

“Get the kid to the hospital,” Jiraiya says. “I don’t expect they’ll try to capture him again, but Naruto will be safe with me.”

“Wait, what?” Naruto’s eyes snap away from Sasuke’s unconscious form. He pushes himself off the floor to stand. “What do you mean? I’m not leaving Sasuke!”

“Naruto, we need to find Tsunade. The village is vulnerable to an attack so long as it’s without a Hokage. It’s imperative one be instated as soon as possible.”

Naruto isn’t sure what ‘imperative’ means, but he doesn’t care. “Then you go! I’m going with Bushy Brow-sensei!”

“I can’t go by myself,” Jiraiya says. “I need you, Naruto.”

“Why?” Naruto demands. “I don’t even know this lady you’re looking for!”

Jiraiya’s expression grows firm, his eyes narrowing. “You’re coming.”

Naruto matches the look with his own fierce glare. He’s opening his mouth to snap out another refusal, annoyed at the man for trying to order him around, when Gai speaks up again.

“Naruto-kun,” he says. “There’s nothing you can do for him. I will get him to the hospital and will make sure he’s taken care of. The woman you’re looking for, Tsunade Senju, is a brilliant medic. If you can get her to return to Konoha, she can heal your friend up easily.”

Naruto wavers when he hears this, biting his lip. He doesn’t want to leave Sasuke when he’s so injured. But if going with Jiraiya is the best way for Naruto to help him…

He takes a few steps forward and looks down at his teammate’s pale face. His eyes catch on the trickle of blood near the corner of his mouth, his broken wrist and the harsh redness of the skin at his throat. He looks breakable, like he did in the Land of Waves, and it’s so very wrong.

“Okay,” Naruto says, jaw clenched. “Fine.” He looks back at Sasuke and says fiercely, “You need to get yourself better, bastard. You promised me we would have a fight, remember? No backing out!”

Reluctantly, feeling a strange ache in his heart, Naruto steps back. He watches as Gai gives a nod to Jiraiya, repositioning Sasuke so his head leans against his shoulder. He leaves the building the same way he entered it, through the large hole blasted in the wall.

Jiraiya places a comforting hand on his student’s shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get going. Before the inn’s manager comes up here and attempts to make us pay for all this damage.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take Gai long to return to Konoha. The inn where he found Naruto and Jiraiya was in a quaint little village just outside the border of the Hidden Leaf. In less than twenty minutes he’s arriving at the hospital with Sasuke cradled gently in his arms. The boy is still unconscious, hasn’t shown any signs of stirring.

Gai’s worry grows, the longer he doesn’t wake up. He tried to be careful with him on the run back, but he has no doubt that the genin’s injuries were jostled greatly and frequently. It’s a bad sign that the pain didn’t jolt him at all back to consciousness.

Gai tries not to think about the genjutsu Jiraiya said the boy was placed under. Kurenai and Asuma have told him about Kakashi’s fight with Itachi—that he was placed under some powerful type of genjutsu. It’s the reason why his rival hasn’t woken up yet, why he now lays in a coma. If Sasuke has suffered the same trick, then Gai doesn’t want to consider the damage it would do to the mind of a child.

What will he tell his rival when he wakes up? A pit forms in Gai’s stomach. It is his failure that has allowed this to happen. He should have been faster in catching the boy when he ran. No—the boy should have never even found out Itachi was in the village.

That damn jounin who burst into the room and ran his mouth… Gai will find him and make sure he’s reprimanded.

The secretary at the hospital’s front desk quickly goes to get him help when she sees the unconscious kid in his arms. He’s led to a room by a darkhaired woman dressed in hospital garb, and there’s a second med-nin inside who directs him to lay Sasuke down on the small cot.

Gai hunches down, careful to jostle the weight in his arms as little as possible. Sasuke’s shallow breaths puff against the crook of his neck, reassurance that the boy is alive, and Gai’s reluctant to let him go and lose that. But he sets the genin down gently on the bed, and he prays he won’t have to deliver heartbreaking news to Kakashi.

Sasuke looks very small and still against the white sheets. His lips are red with blood, his wrist jutting at an unnatural angle. His clothes are wrinkled and dusty, and the metal plate of his hitai-ate sits crooked against his forehead.

He reminds Gai very much of Lee. How his poor student looked, his body broken and bruised, as he was carried out of the arena on a stretcher. He’s in this very hospital now, just a couple floors up—coming to terms with the horrible reality that he will never be a shinobi again.

It paralyzed Gai with terror, seeing his precious student like that. It fills him with heartbreak now. He doesn’t wish those feelings on Kakashi, and he already knows the man is going to blame himself for this when he wakes up.

Gai reaches out to brush Sasuke’s bangs from his forehead. He fixes his hitai-ate so it’s straight.

“What happened to him?” the female med-nin asks. The other, a young shinobi with androgynous features, leans over Sasuke to surveil the damage.

“He was attacked,” Gai says simply. He doubts Itachi’s visit to the village has remained a secret, but for now he figures it’s best not to mention it to anyone. “I only arrived after it happened, so I can’t tell you much. I know he was placed under a genjutsu.”

The younger med-nin looks away from Sasuke to look at him. “Is he your student, Jounin-san?”

“No,” Gai says. “Kakashi Hatake is his sensei. He’s indisposed at the moment. He was attacked by the same man who did this.”

“Is there anyone that should be notified? His parents?”

“Kou,” the female med-nin says pointedly. The young med-nin looks over at her and she says, “He’s the Uchiha kid.”

“Oh.” Understanding passes through blue eyes, followed by pity.

And Gai’s heart aches for this boy. Orphans are plentiful in Konoha, aren’t something anyone does a double-take at. But for this child, who belongs to the once-great Uchiha Clan—he should not be without any family to call upon and sit by his bedside. Instead, his family is the one who put him here.

“You realize,” the female med-nin says, “that we won’t be able to release any information to you on his condition once he’s stabilized?”

Gai frowns. “I’m a registered jounin-sensei. Like I’ve said, his own sensei is out of commission.”

The woman shakes her head. “I’m sorry.” To her credit, she does look genuinely apologetic. “We can give you his general condition once it’s been determined, but any information beyond that can’t be disclosed. Only the person whose care he’s under is privileged to know information regarding his condition and treatment.”

Gai’s teeth clench. This isn’t a surprise to him, but it’s still beyond frustrating.

When a genin is placed onto their three-man squad following graduation, the responsibility of their care is transferred to the jounin-sensei they’ve been assigned to. For kids with parents, this means the sensei acquiring the guardians’ permission. For the dozens of orphans, it’s done automatically. Sasuke is under Kakashi’s care now, so he’s the only one authorized on information on him—and the Hokage, of course.

But Kakashi is still unconscious. And Lord Third is dead.

Gai feels a familiar grief pass over him at the reminder. It has been little more than a week since Sarutobi’s passing. The man considered this village his family, and each of its citizens had a connection with him, Gai included. His loss is felt very keenly.

He looks past the med-nin, to the darkhaired boy on the bed. “May I remain here for him, at least?”

“You’ll have to leave the room while he’s being treated,” she tells him, “but yes, you may stay here. There’s a waiting room outside.”

Gai nods. “Thank you,” he says, and bows his head to her. He gives a last, lingering glance to his rival’s unconscious student, before reluctantly turning around and exiting the room. His heart is heavy with feelings of frustration and inadequacy—but negative emotions like that aren’t helping anyone! Through sheer force of will, he banishes them from his heart.

If being here and standing vigil is all he can do, then that is what Gai will do. He will stand here for Kakashi, who cannot be here himself. He will stand here for this young boy, who has no one else to stay with him.

★

Kurenai and Asuma have been at Kakashi’s apartment since noon that morning, keeping watch over their friend and waiting for him to wake up. The sky outside Kakashi’s bedroom window is slowly darkening now as afternoon edges into evening. Asuma has left to go be with his nephew Konohamaru, who has been temporarily been left in his care following Sarutobi’s death.

Kurenai feels an intense sense of guilt, looking down at Kakashi. She wasn’t able to do anything against Itachi Uchiha. She was helpless. Kakashi was forced to come to her rescue, and now, because she was so weak, he’s like this. Asuma, at least, was able to hold his own against Kisame.

What was she thinking, trying to use genjutsu? Had she taken leave of her senses?

She still has a throb in her side from where Itachi kicked her through the air and into the lake. It’s going to turn into a dark bruise. And now she’s waiting by Kakashi’s bedside anxiously—praying for him to wake up, but also praying he doesn’t, because she doesn’t want to be the one to tell him that his student ran after an S-Rank criminal and might be dead right now.

Kurenai sighs. She looks up at the two photographs on the table beside Kakashi’s bed. The one of Kakashi’s genin team, the haunting faces of Obito and Rin staring back from behind the frame. And his team now as a jounin-sensei, their positions and expressions an eerie mirror to the first photo.

Hours after Gai ran after Sasuke Uchiha, he returns to Kakashi’s apartment. Kurenai hears the sound of the front door opening, and she immediately pushes herself to her feet when Gai appears in the bedroom doorway.

“What happened? Did you catch up with the kid?”

Gai’s face falls into dismay. “Not in time, I’m afraid.”

The man’s expression doesn’t look quite as shattered as she imagines it would be if Kakashi’s student were dead, but still, Kurenai fears the worst at those words. “No. He caught up with Itachi? Tell me he isn’t…”

“He isn’t dead,” Gai assures her, and Kurenai feels something in her chest loosen. “But he fought with Itachi before I managed to catch up with him. He’s in bad shape. I stayed with him at the hospital until they got him stabilized. I’m going to go back in a bit.”

Kurenai nods. She remembers the strength of Itachi Uchiha’s kick, the brutal swiftness in which he moved and the power vibrating through her bones. She doesn’t want to imagine the type of damage force like that could inflict on a child. “He’s going to be alright?”

“I don’t know. He’s not within my care, so they couldn’t release any information to me beyond that he’s going to live.”

Kurenai sighs. “How annoying.”

Gai looks past her, toward Kakashi’s unconscious form on the bed. “Where’s Asuma?”

“He went home. He needed to be with his nephew.”

The green-clad man walks further into the room so that they are both standing by the occupied bed. “And Kakashi? Has there been any change?”

“None. But you know how long it usually takes him to recover when exhausting his chakra like this. I don’t think we should be too worried yet.”

Still, Gai looks worried for their friend despite the words. Kurenai knows the two of them are extremely close. Despite Kakashi’s repeated insistences that Gai is an annoyance he wishes would leave him be, she knows he’s actually the person that Kakashi is probably closest to. And vice versa. The two of them are trusted friends, regardless of how they like to dress their relationship up as being that of ‘rivals’ instead.

“Did you have to engage with Itachi and Kisame when you caught up with Sasuke?” she asks.

Gai frowns, turning his head to look at her. “Who?”

Kurenai raises an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean ‘who’? Itachi Uchiha. Kisame Hoshigaki. Did you fight with them?”

“I didn’t have to fight with Itachi,” says Gai. “He’d already retreated by the time I arrived, which was probably for the best no matter how much my heart yearned to fight him. I have no idea who the other guy you’re talking about is.”

Kurenai stares at him for a moment, wondering if he’s serious or is trying to pull her leg. “Kisame Hoshigaki? One of the Seven Swordsmen of the Bloody Mist? Wanted for numerous crimes in several countries?”

A furrow appears between Gai’s thick eyebrows as he thinks about it. “No. I don’t recall him.”

“You just fought him!”

“You know I’m not good with faces.”

She looks at him incredulously for another moment, before shaking her head and letting it go. Unbelievable. How someone can forget a man with such a distinctive, intimidating appearance, she can’t understand. “You’re going to stay at the hospital with Sasuke, then?”

“Yes,” Gai says. “He should have someone with him since Kakashi can’t be there. And I’ve been meaning to visit Lee anyway.”

Kurenai hides a grimace at the mention of Gai’s crippled student. That match was brutal and should have never been allowed to go so far.

“Do you think you could check up on Neji and Tenten for me? Let them know where I am? I don’t want them to be concerned.”

“Sure,” she agrees easily. Though privately, she admits she’d rather not. Gai explained the complex situation to her, but she’s still holding a bit of a grudge against that Neji kid for nearly killing Hinata in the prelims.

“Thank you.”

Kurenai watches him leave the apartment the same way he came in, his usual bright and optimistic expression looking somber and troubled. She looks back at Kakashi in his bed, and prays silently for him to open his eyes.

He doesn’t.

Chapter Text

When he first drifts into consciousness, the first thing that hits him is his utter exhaustion. The bone-deep kind that makes his own limbs feel like heavy lead weights. They attempt to pin him down to his bed, and it’s an effort to even pry his eyelids open. Light assaults him once he does, like knives stabbing into his brain, and he slams them back closed with a pained gasp.

His hitai-ate isn’t covering his eye. Just a split-second glimpse, and he already feels the drain on his chakra from the Sharingan.

The sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He identifies the room he’s laying in as his own. The mattress beneath him is familiar, as is the creaking of the wooden floorboard in the hall as someone enters the bedroom. Kakashi’s hand goes to wrap around the kunai beneath his pillow, but it isn’t there—Gai must have confiscated it again, that irritating menace.

A familiar voice calls out his name. “Kakashi? Are you… Can you hear me?”

Kurenai. He relaxes once he identifies the voice, feeling his mattress dip as she sits down beside him. Slowly, he attempts to open his eyes again. He blinks against the light, his left eye sucking his energy away. He reaches up to cover it with his hand.

“My hitai-ate,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Kurenai’s eyes widen slightly in realization. She reaches over to the table by his bed, grabbing his forehead protector and quickly pushing it toward him. “Here. I’m sorry.”

Pushing himself up on arms that struggle to hold any weight, he fights the desire to collapse back down as he grabs the hitai-ate and fixes it around his head, slanting the metal plate so the cloth covers his Sharingan. Immediately, he feels the drain on his chakra cut off.

“Thank you,” Kakashi says. His gaze flickers around his bedroom, acclimating himself to his current surroundings. The cogs in his mind begin turning, trying to recall how he ended up here. The last thing he remembers—

Kakashi’s breath catches. The memory of pain hits him so suddenly it almost seems real. Blood-red surroundings and a blade being plunged into his gut, blocking out anything other than painpainpain—

“Naruto,” Kakashi gasps, as he fights through that memory and remembers the rest of it. Itachi Uchiha’s calm voice as he spoke of his target. “Itachi is after him. He’s with Jiraiya. We have to—”

Kurenai places a calming hand on his knee as he attempts to move from the bed. “Naruto is fine.”

Though still tensed, Kakashi looks at her face and allows a bit of his urgency to fade. The light outside his window is dim, he realizes. Not quite dark yet, but not the bright afternoon it was before. He must have been unconscious for at least a few hours—plenty of time for Jiraiya to be warned about Itachi and Kisame.

“How long was I asleep?” he asks.

“You were more than asleep,” Kurenai tells him, face pinched in worry. “Kakashi, you were in a coma. None of us knew when you would wake up. What did Itachi do?”

Kakashi swallows, trying not to think about it. “A genjutsu,” he says. “A really powerful one.”

The other jounin looks like she wants to ask more, but something on his face must give away his extreme reluctance to discuss the subject. She doesn’t push it any further. “Well, I’m just glad you’re okay. How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” he says. He meets her gaze with a determined expression. “But don’t let that stop you from telling me whatever it is that has you looking at me like that.”

Kurenai swallows, averting her eyes. She never was a good liar, and it’s her nervous expression that prevents him from relaxing. She bites her bottom lip, reopening the cut that’s already there.

“I really wish I wasn’t the one who had to tell you this,” she says, exhaling.

“What happened, Kurenai?”

It’s one of his students, it has to be. He can’t think of anything else that would cause this hesitance. Not Naruto. Sasuke, then? Itachi said he wasn’t after his brother, but his words are hardly ones to be trusted. He can’t be dead, Kurenai’s expression would be much worse if he was. But if something happened…

“Sasuke came here,” Kurenai tells him. “We were trying to keep the attack quiet, but there were witnesses to what happened. People who saw Itachi and recognized him. Sasuke came here looking for you, and a jounin burst in at the worst possible moment announcing what happened. As soon as Sasuke heard his brother was after Naruto, he took off. Gai chased after him, but…”

A heavy stone sinks into Kakashi’s stomach. Of course Sasuke went after him. Just hearing Itachi was nearby would have undoubtedly been enough, but that the man was after one of his teammates? That must have lit an instant fire in him.

For a moment, Kakashi can’t breathe. “Is he alright?”

“He’ll live,” Kurenai says. Kakashi’s chest loosens slightly, and the force of his own relief makes him dizzy. “But he was injured badly. Really badly, from how it sounds. Gai took him to the hospital. He’s still there now.”

The relief that he’s alive is processed quickly. Fear follows on its tail, dozens of worrying images regarding his student’s state passing through his mind, but he pushes those feelings away as well. Steeling his expression, ignoring the weakness present in every part of his body, he throws the covers of his bed back and moves to stand up.

“Whoa!” Kurenai stands up from the bed just as he does, eyes widening in alarm. “What do you think you’re doing? Sit back down!”

Kakashi gasps as his knees nearly buckle. His vision blurs and he sees double. He closes his eyes against the nausea before he can be sick, and he feels Kurenai gripping his arms to keep him steady. He underestimated the severity of his exhaustion, both mental and physical, and all his body wants to do is collapse back down and sleep for at least ten more hours. He fights against it.

“I have to go see him,” he says, forcing his eyes open. Kurenai’s face is hazy in front of him.

“Absolutely not. Look at you. You can barely stand.”

Kakashi clenches his back teeth. She can’t see it due to his mask. “I’m fine. You just told me one of my students was placed in the hospital and you aren’t even allowed any proper information regarding his condition. You can’t expect me to stay here.”

The woman frowns, sympathy in her face. “Kakashi, I get it, okay? I have students now, too. I know what you’re feeling. But I can’t let you go walking off like this. You’ll collapse in the middle of the sidewalk.”

Kurenai can be extremely stubborn when she wants to be. Rather than waste more time arguing with her, Kakashi concedes to a compromise and says, “Fine, then come with me. You can make sure I don’t keel over on the way there.”

She hesitates for a moment before sighing. “I really can’t stop you, can I?”

“No.”

Reluctantly. Kurenai escorts him out of his bedroom and out of his apartment. The stairs are a pain to navigate, even though he only lives a few floors up. Pride and stubbornness has him attempting to walk without any support at all, determined to prove a point. But he ends up proving the opposite point when he nearly face-plants and is forced to let her hold him by the arm to keep himself upright. All his focus is on keeping his legs beneath him.

“This was a bad idea,” Kurenai mutters. “You’re going to fall down the stairs and crack your head open.”

“Mah. If I die because of you, my ghost will come back to haunt you.”

“If you die it will be no one’s fault but yours, idiot.”

The sun is still in the sky, though it’s much lower than it was before that afternoon. The sky’s clear color has darkened to a deeper blue. Kakashi estimates the time to be somewhere around six o’clock—he was unconscious for at least five hours, maybe longer.

As they walk, Kurenai explains in more detail what happened with Sasuke. Kakashi feels a flash of annoyance as she explains, again, the jounin running into the room and announcing Itachi’s presence in the village. He feels something in his chest clench when he hears how close the two missing-nin came to actually getting Naruto. Kakashi was feeling a bit annoyed with Jiraiya for taking his student out of Konoha without asking his permission first, but now he feels nothing but grateful to the man. Without him, who knows what would have happened to Naruto.

“Did Gai say anything else?” Kakashi asks. “Itachi and Kisame were obviously after the Nine-Tails, but do we have any idea why?”

Kurenai shakes her head. “I don’t know. They must want to release it, right? The Sharingan is capable of controlling Tailed Beasts, isn’t it? That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. The Uchiha Clan were even suspected to be responsible for the Kyuubi attack the first time around.”

Kakashi grits his teeth. “That was a rumor. Nothing more.”

(Probably, he thinks with a hint of doubt. Surely.)

“I’m not saying I believe it,” says Kurenai. “I’m just saying that’s what people used to think. No one ever talks about it now.”

When they push through the doors of the hospital, Kakashi’s head is pounding and everything around him is alarmingly unfocused. The woman at the front desk gives them the room number Sasuke is in after Kakashi gives her his name. He’s been out of surgery for a few hours, she tells them.

Surgery? Kakashi thinks, biting down his alarm.

It’s fine, he assures himself. Sasuke is alive. Whatever else is wrong, however badly he’s hurt—it can be dealt with.

His room is on the third floor. Kurenai’s grip is firm on his arm the whole way there. Kakashi is feeling much steadier on his feet now, and he shakes her off as they reach the right floor and turn down the hall. He spots Gai instantly, his green jumpsuit causing him to stand out. He’s in the open waiting area, leaning back against the off-color white wall.

“Kakashi!” Gai yells when he spots them, much louder than what is appropriate in a hospital. He pushes himself off the wall. “You’re awake!”

“I tried to keep him in bed,” Kurenai says. “He wouldn’t listen to me.”

Gai frowns. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kakashi tells him (Liar, Kurenai mutters). “You look more exhausted than I do. How long have you been here?”

“A few hours. I didn’t know when you would wake up, and I just figured the kid should have someone with him.”

Kakashi feels gratitude swell in his chest, though he feels guilty such a thing was necessary. He should have been here for Sasuke. No, he should have never let Itachi best him. Then he could have stopped this and Sasuke wouldn’t even be in here.

“Thank you,” Kakashi says. “I appreciate it. Are they letting people see him?”

Gai nods. “I’ll take you to his room.”

“I’ll stay here,” Kurenai says. She looks to Gai. “Make sure he doesn’t fall on his face. He’s still weak.”

Kakashi scowls. “I am not,” he lies, the floor spinning slightly as he turns around too abruptly.

The two of them walk out of the waiting area and down the hallway that connects to it. They pass several closed rooms, and Kakashi turns to Gai. His friend looks nothing like his normal exuberant self—looks exhausted and worn down. He’s been uncharacteristically somber since his own student has been in the hospital, and it’s so strange to see him without the usual bounce in his step.

“Kakashi,” Gai says. “I’m sorry.”

He blinks. “Sorry? What for?”

“I should’ve been faster. When Sasuke went after Itachi, I chased after him. But I didn’t get there in time.”

Kakashi shakes his head. “That wasn’t your fault. You brought him back.”

If anything, it’s his fault. Sasuke is his student, not Gai’s. It’s his responsibility to look after him. He’s failed him. He’s failed all of them, multiple times, but mostly Sasuke. The boy has only been under his care for a few months and he’s already almost died on at least four separate occasions.

Not for the first time—or even the second, or third, or twentieth—Kakashi wonders what the hell the Sandaime was thinking making him a teacher.

But the man is dead now, and Kakashi can’t ask him.

When Gai stops in front of one of the rooms and tells him this one is it, Kakashi doesn’t let himself hesitate outside. He’s seen his student in the hospital already, pale and bruised with an oxygen mask over his face. He’s prepared to see it again, steels himself for the worst as he opens the door and steps inside.

Sasuke is unconscious on the bed, eyes closed. His complexion is almost colorless, his body fragile and still, and it’s only his dark hair and the bruises painted across his skin that prevent him from looking like the white sheets have swallowed him.

The one at his neck is the worst. Sasuke’s pale, porcelain skin bruises much quicker than people with darker skin tones, and though it’s only been a few hours, the imprint of Itachi’s fingers is already clearly visible. His throat is a painful blue, slowly edging into purple. There’s a dark smudge on his jaw as well, reaching up to his jawbone like charcoal staining a white canvas. His left forearm has been broken and is bandaged, and his bottom lip is split and scabbed over. No doubt there are more injuries hidden by his clothing.

Kakashi doesn’t react beyond a slight tensing of his shoulders. It’s less terrible than he feared, for he was imagining the worst, but still feels like a kick in the chest. Gai must read it in his body language, because he grabs a chair from the corner of the room and drags it forward for Kakashi to collapse into.

“Dammit,” Kakashi breathes.

This clenching in his chest—this fear—it’s something he still isn’t used to. There’s a reason he failed all the Academy graduates assigned to him in previous years, and it wasn’t just because they didn’t meet the qualifications of his test. It’s because he was terrified of letting anyone close, terrified of letting himself care. He kills everyone whose life he touches—and perhaps it’s only cowardice disguised as altruism, but he doesn’t want another loss on his soul. He doesn’t want the weight of anymore ghosts on his shoulders.

He isn’t used to this. This caring. He doesn’t want it.

But these kids are his now, and it’s too late. He can’t imagine throwing them away. He can’t imagine their loss not crippling him.

(Like Sakumo, like Obito, like Rin, like Minato.)

Gai places a supportive hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kakashi.”

He bristles at the tone. “He isn’t dead.”

“I know,” Gai says, and Kakashi can hear the frown in his voice. “Did I say that?”

“They really wouldn’t tell you anything about his condition?”

“No. And I didn’t arrive until after the fact, so I didn’t witness the actual fight.” The green-clad man hesitates a moment before saying reluctantly, “But… Jiraiya did mention something. He said Itachi put him under some type of genjutsu. I thought maybe—”

Kakashi tastes something metallic in the back of his throat. “It was the same one he used on me.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Apparently he dropped just like you did.”

Kakashi remembers, with the phantom smell of blood in his nose and the taste in his mouth, the nightmare world Itachi constructed around him. It was like no genjutsu Kakashi’s ever seen. There wasn’t a single flaw or loose thread to tear at and rip his way out. He remembers how vividly real every sensation felt, the blade plunging into his gut again and again and again until he lost sense of everything that wasn’t the pain.

He remembers feeling something in his mind break. Falling to his knees in the shallow water, three days of torture compounded into a single second.

He remembers that, and he imagines it happening to Sasuke. He imagines a thirteen-year-old child subjected to an attack that a grown adult couldn’t fend against. He wishes he could feel more horrified, but the cruelties of this world have numbed him.

He allows himself a moment of unguarded weakness, his face falling into his hands and his shoulders slumping inward. Gai’s hand tightens on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, and the room is silent.

Eventually, once he feels less like punching someone—like hunting down Itachi and punching him—he raises his head from his hands. He stares at Sasuke, at the slow rise and fall of his chest that reassures him he’s alive, and he thinks, I should’ve been there. I should’ve been there.

“Does Sakura know?” he asks, refocusing his thoughts before he can fall too far into his spiral of self-recrimination.

Gai’s eyes widen. “I didn’t even think! I can go to her now—”

Kakashi shakes his head. “No, I’ll tell her. She’ll take it better coming from me.”

It’s unsettling to see Sasuke so still, but he can’t look away. He remembers the night the Uchiha Clan were killed, the bodies littering the streets. He remembers Sasuke that night, his small body collapsed and stained in blood, easily mistaken for another corpse. Kakashi only got a glimpse of him before he ordered another ANBU member to take him away, but he imagines he looked a lot like this in the hospital afterwards.

Guilt sits heavy in his stomach. Logically, Kakashi knows he likely wouldn’t have been able to do anything even if he had been there. Itachi proved already how easily he could take Kakashi out. But guilt is rarely rational, and he still feels responsible. The burden of being a teacher, he supposes. He wonders how Minato was able to bear the weight of it. How he was able to continue on, after two out of three of his students—

No, Kakashi thinks, the memories aching like pressing against a dull bruise. Stop.

The hospital door opens. Kakashi tenses, immediately lifting his face from his hands and turning around. Gai drops his hand from his shoulder. The woman standing in the doorway is a young woman, a med-nin, who is holding a clipboard to her chest.

“Hatake-san?”

Kakashi stands. He forgets he’s still weak, and for a moment his sight blurs. He blinks away double vision, steadying himself by placing a hand on the back of the chair. He ignores the concerned look he gets from Gai. “Yes?”

She inclines her head. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting. I only just heard you arrived.”

“What’s my student’s condition? What did he need surgery for?”

“He was brought in with three broken ribs,” the med-nin explains. “One of them punctured his right lung. The tear wasn’t bad, but surgery was still needed to repair it. One of his arteries was damaged as well. It’s something very common when one of the upper ribs is broken—the bone often ruptures a major blood vessel.”

“But you fixed it,” Kakashi says. “He’ll be fine, right?”

The woman hesitates, her lips pressing tightly together. “All his physical injuries were dealt with. He should make an easy recovery from them. But psychologically… it appears his brain has undergone severe mental strain. He’s fallen into a coma.”

Kakashi feels the words hit him and processes them. His first reaction is denial, his gaze darting to Sasuke on the bed. “What?” he says, and distress turns his tone harsh. “Well, what are you doing to help him? He’s going to wake up, isn’t he?”

The med-nin sighs and gives him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Hatake-san. But I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

“Sakura,” Mebuki says, a frown pulling at her lips, “you’re barely touching your food.”

Sakura doesn’t look at her mother as the woman addresses her. She stares down at her full dinner plate, poking at it with her fork. She’s forced a couple bites of potatoes down her throat already, and her stomach rebels at the thought of trying to force down anymore.

“I’m not feeling very hungry,” she says.

She sees her mother exchange a worried glance with her father, seated at the dining table next to her. She can’t bring herself to care much what they must think—truthfully, it’s surprising they’ve noticed her ill mood at all.

There’s been a pit of snakes writhing in her gut since earlier that afternoon. Since she saw Sasuke, eyes wide in panic and body written in a desperation she’d never seen on him before—not even in the Forest of Death, when he was mere seconds from giving up their scroll. Where’s Naruto? he demanded. The urgency in that question still echoes in her head hours later.

As does the sight of his back, as he spun away from her and ran off.

It’s been hours, and she hasn’t seen him since. She hasn’t seen Naruto or Kakashi either.

“You do look slightly ill,” her mother says, her eyebrows furrowing. She looks to her husband. “What do you think, dear? Does she look ill? Oh, are you sick? Let me feel your forehead—”

She spots the blurred image of a hand coming in her direction, and she slaps her mother away irritably. “Stop it! I don’t have a fever!”

“But Sakura—”

“I’m just not hungry!”

Mebuki sits back in her dinner chair, looking affronted as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Well then!”

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” says Kizashi. “She’s only concerned. We both are.”

Sakura’s hand clenches tightly around her fork. “For once,” she mutters—a bit louder than she meant to.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Sakura winces. She hunches her shoulders and stares determinedly down at her dinner. The snake in her gut writhes again, now for an entirely different reason.

Mercifully, the doorbell chooses that moment to ring.

Sakura shoots up from her chair. “I’ll get it!” she says, and is running across the room toward the foyer before either of her parents can protest.

Her first thought is it has to be Sasuke! Which is stupid and irrational, because Sasuke’s never been to her house before. She doesn’t think he even knows where she lives. She knows where he lives, of course, but that’s unfortunately never been relevant; she’s never been to his house either.

Her second guess is Kakashi-sensei, and it turns out to be far more accurate.

He’s standing there on her front porch as she swings the door open—silhouetted by the dark evening sky behind him. A rush of relief hits her at the sight of him. Most of her worry for these past hours has been reserved for Sasuke—and for Naruto, as she recalled the sharp desperation in Sasuke’s voice when he demanded his location of her. But she was unable to find Kakashi either, after, and it’s only now that she sees him that she realizes how much of her concern was for him as well.

Kakashi-sensei is powerful, yes. But he is not invincible. He, too, can be hurt. Can be killed.

The Land of Waves taught her many things. This is but one of them.

“Sensei!” she exclaims.

Standing in the doorway of her home in his jounin uniform, with his hitai-ate, Kakashi creates an odd juxtaposition within her. As if two of her worlds are now meeting, when they were never meant to touch. She has never associated her parents with anything shinobi—and she doesn’t think they associate her with it either. Not so long as she washes the blood and the dirt off herself before she returns home, and is able to smile at them and pretend she didn’t hold her nearly-dead teammate in her arms.

Not so long as her nightmares are quiet enough as to go unheard through her door.

“Sakura,” Kakashi says. “I’m sorry to disturb you at home so late.”

Sakura feels the writhing snake in her gut return. It multiplies—becomes two, becomes three. She recalls Sasuke’s demand—where’s Naruto—and the cold fear in his eyes. Her hand tightens on the doorframe, knuckles going white.

“Is it Naruto?” she asks. “Is he alright?”

Kakashi shakes his head, and the look in his eye causes dread to settle over her heart.

“Not Naruto,” he tells her. “It’s Sasuke.”

★

Kakashi explains it all to her on the way to the hospital. Sakura’s mind is awhirl with questions, with fear. She can taste it in the back of her throat.

I didn’t even know Sasuke-kun had a brother, she thinks to herself. For some reason, this feels like a failure on her part. Something she should have known.

And yet—

Itachi. Why does that name sound slightly familiar to her?

The memory of it nags at her. Frustratingly, she can’t seem to grasp it. Surely Sasuke has never mentioned it? Surely she would remember if he had?

Sakura shivers, only in part due to the chilly evening air. She wraps her arms around herself and can feel the goosebumps against her skin.

Kakashi casts her a concerned look.

“I’m fine,” she tells him. “I’m just cold. I should have grabbed my jacket.”

“We’ll be there in a couple minutes,” he assures her.

He looks rather terrible, Sakura notices. Drained, like in Wave after overusing his chakra. He’s unnaturally pale, smudges of dark shadow under his eyes. He’s listing a bit as he walks.

Are you okay? Did something happen to you, too? She opens her mouth to ask him, but he speaks up before she does, cutting her question off with his own.

“Why did you think something happened to Naruto when I showed up?”

Sakura blinks. “Huh? Oh, uh. The last time I saw Sasuke-kun, early this afternoon… he ran up to me and demanded to know where Naruto was. He sounded… it seemed really important he find him. That’s why.”

“I see,” says Kakashi. “Naruto is fine. You needn’t worry about him.”

“But then why was Sasuke-kun looking for him?”

A pause. The jounin doesn’t look at her.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies.

The two of them fall silent for the rest of the short walk. It’s a tense, fraught silence, and the heaviness in Sakura’s chest increases with each step closer to the hospital. She feels like she might throw up. She needs to see Sasuke—she has to. But she doesn’t want to either, is so, so terrified—

He’s in a coma, Kakashi said. Oh god, what if he never wakes up?

They reach the hospital, stepping inside the doors and walking up the flights of stairs. They walk down a hallway, then stop in front of one of the rooms. Sakura’s gut feels like a pit of vipers.

“He’s in here,” Kakashi says gently, and pushes the door open.

Sakura freezes. For a moment, her breath is forced from her as if from a punch.

“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura gasps. She runs forward.

The boy on the hospital bed doesn’t look like Sasuke. He’s small and fragile and bruised, all things that Sasuke should never be. And yet, he has been like this before. This is not the first time she has seen him like this—or even the second.

It is the Land of Waves all over again, sobbing against his limp, lifeless body. It is the Forest of Death, feeling the fragility of him as he collapsed in her arms, as she held him to her chest and prayed, not again, not again, not again.

Her gaze falls on the oxygen mask over his face, then travels to the bruise across his jaw, the colorful assortment of blues and purples creeping up his neck. Her eyes sting with tears, and she feels Kakashi-sensei step up and drop his hand onto her shoulder.

Rule number twenty-five of the shinobi code of conduct, she reminds herself, just as she did in Wave. A shinobi must not shed tears. Must not show emotion.

Unlike then, she succeeds this time. Her eyes and throat both burn persistently, but she digs her nails into the palms of her hands and forces her tears away. She will not cry. She will not break down.

She reaches out slowly, laying her hand over Sasuke’s. She half expects him to pull away from her, but his hand is still beneath hers. She can see the quiet puffs of his breath behind the mask, fogging it up slightly.

Kakashi squeezes her shoulder. For a long time, the two of them stay like that.

Sakura stares at the rise and fall of her teammate’s chest. Her eyes stray, once again, to the harsh bruises at his throat; the bruises that are so clearly the shape of fingers, a merciless hand wrapped around his neck.

Something clenches in her chest. “He never told me he had a brother,” she says quietly, breaking the silence. “How come he never told me?”

There’s a lengthy pause before Kakashi offers an answer. “Sasuke is an extremely private person. He doesn’t open up to people easily. Surely you’ve realized that. It’s doubtful he would have ever willingly offered up information about Itachi—about his family.”

“You knew.”

“I knew Itachi. From before—before. He never mentioned him to me.”

She knows nothing about him, she realizes. She stares down at him on the bed in front of her and tries to think of one thing about him that she knows, but she comes up blank. This is the boy she’s in love with. The boy she’s been in love with for years. How is it possible that she knows nothing about his life?

She can’t even name his favorite color. Does he even have one?

Once again, her gaze catches on the finger-shaped bruises. They make her feel nauseous. “How could Sasuke-kun’s brother do this to him?” she asks. “How—How could…”

She thinks of her own parents. Her parents, whom she left after fighting with, but it all seems so stupid now. As inconsistent and flighty as her father and mother can be—terribly absent one moment, and then annoyingly smothering the next—she knows how much they care for her. She knows what she means to them. She’s never had reason to doubt it, not once in her life.

She doesn’t have a sibling, so perhaps it’s different with them than with parents. But she thinks of her dad’s warm smiles, her mom’s lips pressed against the top of her head; and she doesn’t understand.

Sakura tightens her grip on Sasuke’s hand. “Family is supposed to love you,” she says.

Kakashi’s hand slips from her shoulder. With a quiet sigh, he looks down at her. “How much do you know about the Uchiha Clan massacre?”

Sakura feels suddenly cold. “Not much,” she admits. Sasuke never talks about it. No one ever seems to talk about it, except in the occasional hushed whispers and the pitying glances as Sasuke walks down the street.

She never noticed them before becoming Sasuke’s teammate. She never noticed a lot of things.

“I remember Sasuke-kun was missing from school for a while,” she says. “No one was saying why. But then he was back, and…”

She trails off, trying to think back to that time. She was only seven years old, and her memories of it are hazy. She doesn’t think she ever truly understood what happened then. She doesn’t remember learning about the massacre. She just… remembers wondering where Sasuke was, then being happy when he was suddenly back. She doesn’t remember questioning it any farther.

It should’ve been a bigger deal, she thinks. An entire clan was slaughtered. Why can’t she remember hearing about it?

She knows Sasuke’s family is dead. She knows about the massacre. But she can’t recall learning about it—can’t recall when the news of it first reached her ears. The knowledge is just there, as it has been for years; she’s never given any real thought to it.

Sasuke-kun’s family is dead, Sakura thinks, and suddenly there’s a weight to the knowledge that was never there before. It sits heavy on her chest.

Did Sasuke-kun see it? Was he there?

“It was Itachi,” Kakashi says. “He was the one who killed them. He fled Konoha that same night.”

Sakura’s head snaps to look at him. “What?”

“It’s not classified information, but it’s not exactly public knowledge either.”

Sakura’s mind whirls. She can’t think of anything to say through her shock. Kakashi already told her of the man’s status as a missing-nin—but that was why? He murdered his own family?

Sakura suddenly recalls Sasuke on that rooftop, on that late afternoon when Team 7 first introduced themselves. Hands stapled under his chin, bangs falling into his face and throwing his expression into shadow. Voice shaking with something darker but more fragile than rage, as he made a vow of murder on a nameless man.

His brother. His brother is who he was talking about.

Sakura swallows. “Is that why he did this to Sasuke-kun? He was trying to finish the job from when… from when he killed the rest of his family?”

Kakashi hesitates on his response. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

But Sakura frowns, remembering earlier that afternoon. The last time she’d seen her dark-haired teammate before this befell him. Then why was Sasuke-kun looking for Naruto? Why did he look so scared?

She bites the inside of her lip, looking back to the frail and bruised boy on the bed. “Is there really nothing we can do?” Sakura asks. “There has to be something. Some way to help Sasuke-kun.”

“Naruto has gone with Jiraiya to seek out Tsunade. She’s the best medical ninja Konoha’s ever had. If anyone stands a chance at fixing Sasuke, it’s her.”

“So what, we just wait?”

Kakashi’s hand settles on her head. “We wait,” he repeats firmly, “and we make sure he knows he has a reason to wake up.”

Chapter Text

The two of them have been walking for what feels like forever. Naruto’s feet have developed blisters, and the sun shining down on them from the sky is a merciless force. Naruto is sweating through his clothing, his water ran out at least ten miles ago, and if they don’t stop to rest soon then he’s going to actually die.

Jiraiya rolls his eyes when Naruto tells him this. “Don’t be a baby.”

“But Pervy Sage, I’m boiling!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be wearing a sweatshirt in August, then.”

“Ugh!” The jinchuuriki kicks at the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. “We’ve been walking all day! My feet hurt! Can’t we just rest for the night?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on! Please? Please, please, please, please—”

Jiraiya’s eyebrow begins to twitch violently. Naruto continues to repeat the word, over and over with a steadily increasing volume, until finally—

“Fine!” Jiraiya yells. “Yes! We can stop! Just shut the hell up, you annoying brat!”

Naruto pumps his fist in victory.

Jiraiya trips him, the petty asshole.

They stop at the nearest inn to request a room. The woman who greets them at the front desk is young and pretty—just Pervy Sage’s type, so of course he has to try and flirt with her immediately. Naruto rolls his eyes and swipes the key to their room, stomping up the steps without him.

“Old pervert,” he grumbles. He wonders how long it will take the man to get the message she’s not interested and follow after him.

He scans the numbers on the wall until he reaches the correct room. The moment he unlocks the door and steps inside, he throws himself onto the bed with a loud groan of relief. His sandals are next, kicked off his sore and blistered feet to land somewhere across the room.

Naruto buries his face into the pillow in front of him. It doesn’t smell like it’s been washed recently, but he doesn’t care. He’s too tired.

He's spent the entire journey since early that afternoon struggling to stave off his worry for Sasuke. Struggling to stave of his confusion, his anger, his mind spinning with dozens of questions that Pervy Sage has so far refused to answer. Red eyes are engraved in his mind—red eyes just like Sasuke’s, but at the same time not—along with the terrible sound of bones snapping. The screams that were torn from Sasuke’s throat.

He's never heard Sasuke scream like that before. He never wants to again.

And Naruto was helpless to do anything.

What happened at that hotel? None of it makes sense to him, and he can’t sort any of it out in his head. Two shinobi in weird cloaks and weird painted nails tried to kidnap him. And one of them was apparently Sasuke’s brother, which, what the hell? Naruto thought his whole family was dead? Then Sasuke showed up—to save him? To kill his brother? Both?

Naruto groans out loud in frustration. The noise is muffled by the pillow.

And now, Sasuke is hurt—because of him, again. Because he was forced to save Naruto’s life, again.

Kakashi-sensei might be hurt too. Bushy Brow-sensei said he also fought those guys.

The pillow smells like mildew and old sweat. In a fit of frustration, trying to shove away the icy fear in his chest, Naruto grabs it and chucks it across the room. It lands on the floor in front of the door, just as it opens and Jiraiya steps inside.

The white-haired man blinks down at the pillow at his feet. Then his eyes go to Naruto on the bed—now sitting up on the mattress, glaring with his arms crossed.

“Took you long enough,” Naruto tells him.

Jiraiya rubs the back of his neck a bit sheepishly, avoiding looking the genin directly in the face. “Sorry! But I could hardly abandon such a beautiful lady for an empty bed without at least offering—”

Naruto’s nose wrinkles. “Gross! Pervy Sage, I don’t care about that!”

“Then what is it?” Jiraiya closes the door and makes his way over to the bed next to Naruto. He sinks down onto it. “You got what you wanted. We’ll rest for the night—and take even longer to reach where we’re going now, so good job.”

Naruto huffs. “We wouldn’t have gotten there any faster if I got heatstroke and passed out! And where are we even going? You won’t tell me a single fucking thing!”

“Watch your language,” says Jiraiya.

Naruto gives him the harshest glare he can muster.

Jiraiya actually flinches away, eyes widening a fraction. “Jeez,” he mutters, barely audible, “you look just as scary as her when you do that.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” the man says immediately, as if only just realizing he spoke the last words out loud. “The lady we’re going to find is named Tsunade. She’s an old friend of mine.”

“And she can help Sasuke?” Naruto asks.

“Among other things, yes. She’s one of the best healers in the world. We just need to convince her to come back to Konoha with us.”

He isn’t reassured by the words, like Jiraiya seems to mean him to be. One of the best healers in the world? Is Sasuke’s condition really that bad, that someone like that is needed to fix him? What happened to him was awful, but—bruises and broken bones should be easy to heal, shouldn’t they?

He voices this question out loud. Jiraiya grimaces and says, “It’s not his physical injuries that are the problem. It’s whatever genjutsu Itachi placed him under.”

Naruto’s jaw clenches at the sound of the name. “Itachi Uchiha,” he says, testing out the foreign syllables on his tongue.

“Yes.”

“Sasuke’s brother.”

“Yes. His brother.”

Naruto sits with the confirmation a moment, even though it was already obvious it was true. He tries to make the new knowledge fit into his view of his asocial teammate, but he can’t. “I thought that all of Sasuke’s family was dead.”

“They are,” Jiraiya tells him. “All but Itachi, and he’s no longer considered a part of the clan. He’s a traitor to the village.”

“Then why was he there trying to kidnap me? Him and that other guy—the one that looked like a freaky shark? What did they want with me?”

“I don’t know.”

Naruto scowls, anger flaring in him. “Pervy Sage, don’t lie!”

“I’m not.” The older shinobi leans forward slightly, elbows against his knees and hands beneath his chin. “Clearly, they were after the Kyuubi for some reason. But this organization they claim to be a part of, the Akatsuki—I’ve never heard of it before.”

Reluctantly, Naruto believes him. “Okay, what about this Itachi guy? Sasuke’s brother?”

Jiraiya shakes his head. “Forget about him. He isn’t your concern.”

“You mean like the Kyuubi wasn’t my concern?”

Jiraiya visibly winces at the words, at the harshness in which Naruto says them. Naruto feels a flash of satisfaction at the guilt he sees flash over the man’s face. Good. He should feel guilty. Especially after he just stood there while Sasuke got pummeled. Naruto might not have been able to do anything—but he could have.

“It’s not like that,” Jiraiya says.

The genin huffs. “Then what’s it like, huh?”

The man’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Sasuke’s never mentioned his brother to you, has he?

Naruto’s first instinct is to answer no, of course not. But then he pauses and actually thinks about it—recalls a memory he prefers not to look back on, of Sasuke bleeding in his arms. His body broken and littered with senbon, red staining his lips, as he struggled to gasp out what he thought would be his last words—

My brother. I promised myself… I would stay alive… until I killed him…

Naruto forgot those words. They were driven from his mind by the violent storm that followed, the agony and the rage when he believed Sasuke had been killed—when he believed Sasuke had died saving Naruto, someone he claimed to hate.

Sasuke has always acted like he hates him. So why does he keep hurting himself for him?

“He mentioned a brother once,” Naruto says. “He said he wanted to kill him. But it was—he thought he was dying, so—” Naruto swallows around the memory of the blood on his hands. The rage that consumed him, nearly caused the monster inside him to break free. “Dramatic bastard.”

“You didn’t ask him about it at all?”

“No.”

He feels a slight shame in his chest at the realization. It’s irritating, and he tries to shove it away. It’s not like Sasuke’s tried to get to know me, either! That jerk insults me every time he opens his mouth in my direction!

“Sasuke hasn’t chosen to tell you about it,” Jiraiya tells him. “That’s why I’m not sure about telling you. It should be his story to tell.”

“Well, he’s not here!” Naruto says. “He’s in the hospital because his own brother kicked the shit out of him—something you were fine with just watching, instead of trying to stop it!”

Jiraiya grimaces. “I wanted to give Sasuke a chance to fight his own battle.”

“He could have died!”

“I know. It was a mistake.”

Naruto huffs.

Jiraiya studies the turmoil on his young pupil’s face. “Alright,” he agrees, slightly reluctant. “I’ll tell you. None of it is classified information, anyway. What do you know about the Uchiha Clan's massacre?”

Naruto open his mouth to answer—before realizing he doesn’t have much of answer to give. “Not much. No one ever talks about it.”

Certainly not Sasuke.

He’s heard the whispers, of course. He’s seen the way the villagers look at Sasuke—similar to the way they’ve always looked at Naruto, though not exactly the same. He’s heard the whispers—the last Uchiha, heir to ashes.

He remembers the first day he heard about it. Even then, when they hadn’t known each other for long, Sasuke annoyed him—perfect at everything, fawned over by everyone in their class, and acting like all of it was beneath him. So of course Naruto noticed when he suddenly stopped showing up for class—for an entire two weeks, and still he was all anyone in their class could talk about.

Then Sasuke was back—quieter, smaller, as he sat at his desk. And everyone was suddenly staring at him in morbid fascination. Wide eyes, hushed voices that whispered, words like slaughtered and all gone and only survivor.

Sasuke never reacted to any of it, just remained sitting at his desk and staring straight ahead with a blank face.

Naruto doesn’t know anything specific about how Sasuke’s family died. He remembers when it happened—it was summer, they were seven—and he knows the entire clan was wiped out overnight, leaving Sasuke as the last living Uchiha. It was a huge deal, he remembers, because the Uchiha were Konoha’s most powerful clan—and suddenly, somehow, they were just gone.

And Sasuke was orphaned and alone—a lonely boy sitting at the end of a dock, suddenly so terribly familiar to Naruto’s eyes.

It was the kind of awful, tragic thing that everyone loved to whisper about, but never actually talk about. The kind of thing that existed in the pauses between words, the empty spaces where people stood. A lot like the Nine-Tails’ attack on the village.

“I wasn’t in Konoha when it happened,” Jiraiya says. Naruto snaps out of his memories to give him his full attention. “But here’s what I know—Sasuke came home that night to find everyone in the Uchiha compound dead, and his brother standing over their bodies. Itachi left him alive and fled the village that same night, declared a traitor.”

Naruto feels like the breath’s been knocked from him. Eyes wide, he thinks, Sasuke was there?

He’s not sure why that’s the revelation that hits him first. Perhaps the other—that Sasuke’s own brother was the one who slaughtered his family—is simply too much to process.

Naruto has never really thought much about the massacre itself—and when he has, it’s always been in rather abstract terms. Most of the time, he’s thought about the aftermath of it. The ripples the event caused, reflected on Sasuke’s face. He’s thought about Sasuke sitting on the end of that dock, of him going home to an empty house, of being haunted by the echoing silence of his bedroom walls—of him being all alone, just like Naruto’s always been.

He’s thought a lot about the massacre’s results, but never about the actual event. Never about what it must have been like—for Sasuke to walk into his house and find his parents’ bodies on the floor, the both of them dead.

And his brother was the one who did it.

A sense of overwhelming horror comes over him. After a few seconds, Naruto manages to choke out in disbelief, “Sasuke’s brother killed them?”

Jiraiya nods. He looks serious, in a way Naruto’s rarely seen. “Yes.”

“Why?!”

“No one knows. He just snapped.”

Naruto thinks back to the hallway in that inn. The pure hatred in Sasuke’s eyes—the desperation that drove him to keep fighting, to keep standing up, to try and make his brother just look at him, even as he got beat down over and over again.

“Explains why he wants to kill him,” Naruto says quietly. A massive under-reaction to what he’s just learned, but he doesn’t know how else he’s meant to respond.

Naruto has never had a family. He doesn’t know what having parents is like. He doesn’t know what having a brother is like. But he imagines how it would feel if someone he trusted, someone he loved, turned around one day and ripped everything he cared for away—and in this moment, Naruto feels like he’s closer to understanding Sasuke than he’s ever been before.

He remembers Sasuke on the day that Team Seven was formed. Hands stapled under his chin as he made a vow of murder.

He wants revenge, Naruto realizes.

Naruto remembers what Sasuke’s brother looked like, standing there in that hallway—the cold indifference of his stare and his voice. He remembers how he looked at Sasuke—like he was nothing, like he was less than nothing—and remembers the hand gripping tight to Sasuke’s wrist, to his throat.

He remembers the sound of Sasuke’s broken screams. A fire burns in his chest, and in this moment he understands Sasuke perfectly.

Because he’s never hated anyone as much as he hates Itachi Uchiha.

“You could have stopped him from hurting Sasuke,” Naruto says quietly.

“Maybe,” Jiraiya replies.

A chill goes through Naruto at the words. Pervy Sage is powerful, and for him to doubt that he has the ability to take Itachi down…

“Will they come after me again? For the Kyuubi?”

Jiraiya is silent for a long moment. “Go to sleep, Naruto,” he says finally, instead of answering. “We’ll start moving again first thing in the morning.”

Jiraiya flips off the light, and the hotel room is swallowed by darkness. Reluctantly, Naruto does as he’s been told and slides under the covers of the bed—closing his eyes as he tries not to think of the image of Sasuke on the hotel floor, his lips stained with blood and finger-shaped bruises around his throat. Slowly, he drifts off to a troubled sleep.

Naruto dreams of two pairs of red eyes, one like fire and the other like ice.

Chapter Text

“Request denied.”

Kakashi is kneeling in the center of the council room, his eyes on the floor. When he hears the two words, his head snaps up, disbelief written across his face. “What?”

Konoha's two elders stare back at him impassively from their seats. The response was quick and firm, answered barely a second after the question left his lips. They hadn’t even needed to think about it.

I request permission to go after Itachi Uchiha.

Request denied. No hesitation.

Their faces are like stone. Kakashi stares up at them from the floor, and he feels frustration flood through him at the response. At the fact that they didn’t even consider it.

“Why?” he demands. Koharu's eyebrow lifts slowly, her eyes sharp, and Kakashi realizes how disrespectful he sounded. He reels his feelings in, once again bowing his head.

“Forgive me,” he says. “I merely meant… my student lays trapped in a coma. Each second that passes is another second his life is in the balance. Itachi is possibly the only hope he has.”

There’s a slight pause before he hears a response. He stares down at the wooden floorboards, fighting the instinct to look up and observe their expressions.

“Jiraiya has left the village in search of Tsunade,” Homura answers. “As you know, her medical ability is unrivaled. Once she returns, it is likely that Sasuke will make a speedy recovery.”

Kakashi’s teeth clench just slightly, his lips pressing together. “Yes, but we don’t know if Jiraiya will even find her. Or if she’ll even agree to come back. And even if she does, it’s not guaranteed she’ll even be able to help. Sasuke is trapped in a genjutsu of Itachi’s own creation. It’s mental, not physical.”

The two elders exchange glances. There's the slightest hint of uncertainty in their eyes now, and Kakashi lets himself hope they can be persuaded. They communicate silently.

“The answer is still no, Hatake-san.”

Kakashi feels his hope sink. He looks up at them desperately . “If I could just take a team—”

“It’s too risky, Hatake,” says Koharu. She leaves out the respectful san at the end of his name, which is a sure sign she’s growing annoyed. “The village is in a state of vulnerability without a Hokage at its head. We need all of our most capable shinobi present to defend our borders, and Itachi Uchiha has already proven himself to be more than a match for you.”

Kakashi's shoulders drop, his indignation quelled slightly beneath the harsh reality of the words. He doesn’t stand a chance against Itachi. Their previous skirmish proved this without a doubt. But if he takes a team of jounin—or waits for Jiraiya to return—

“What you're asking is a pointless endeavor,” Homura says, before Kakashi can speak any of these thoughts. “Even if you were capable—even if we allowed it—you have no knowledge on Itachi’s whereabouts. Absolutely no way to find him. He is dust in the wind, Hatake-san. Dust cannot be caught.”

Kakashi remains silent. His head falls forward. Their reasons are logical and sound, and in that moment, he hates them for it. He doesn’t want to hear reasons why he shouldn’t, or reasons why it won’t work. He wants to hunt Itachi down and drag him back to Konoha. He wants to drag him in front of Sasuke’s hospital bed, and watch his face as he realizes exactly what he’s done.

He wants his student to be okay, and if that’s not an option, then he wants to be sure Itachi pays.

“We understand your concern for your student,” Koharu says. “We share those same concerns. But you are wasting our time with this. Our answer remains the same.”

Their expressions are glacial, unchanged. They certainly don’t look concerned. Something dark sparks in Kakashi’s chest, and he keeps his gaze locked forward as he gives them a respectful nod, rising to his feet.

He turns to the door. He knows a dismissal when he hears one.

His feet take him to the hospital without any real conscious thought. For the third time since waking yesterday, he finds himself pushing open a pair of revolving doors, trudging up the steps with a heavy heart.

The elders' reasons for denying his request are perfectly reasonable. They make complete sense. And yet, Kakashi remembers the speed of their refusal, how hasty they had been to dismiss him, and something about the entire conversation feels odd. He recalls the glances they traded, the way there seemed to be an entire conversation hidden within them, and he can’t shake his sudden unease.

Something about it just feels wrong. He can’t explain why. And Kakashi has long learned the importance of trusting his instincts.

Kakashi sighs, turning a corner in the hospital hallway. He hasn’t gotten any proper sleep, and he’s completely exhausted. Maybe he’s overthinking it.

He opens the door to Sasuke’s hospital room. He’s expecting to find an empty chair by his student’s bedside, and blinks in surprise when that’s not what he sees.

“Sensei,” he says, caught off-guard.

Iruka turns his head. His face is creased in concern, and when he looks at Kakashi, it closes off into a mask of polite professionalism.

“Kakashi-san,” he greets. His voice is cordial, with just the slightest hint of coldness. His eyes flicker over him quickly, before returning to his face. “You look like hell.”

“Flatterer,” Kakashi responds, his tone an attempt at levity. It falls just short of the mark.

He steps into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Iruka turns back to Sasuke.

The two of them haven’t had a reason to speak since the Chuunin Exams. Their prior argument is sharp in Kakashi’s mind, and it causes a tension in the air between them.

“You don’t look so well yourself,” he says. Slowly, he comes to stand next to the chair the chuunin is sitting in. “Your students causing you trouble, sensei?”

A ghost of a smile pulls at Iruka's mouth. “Always,” he answers, but the smile fades, replaced by the same troubled look. His gaze stays locked on Sasuke. “But no. I just... my sleep has been troubled lately.”

Kakashi’s own gaze drops to his student's pale face, to the dark bruises around his throat. His heart constricts.

“I know the feeling,” he mutters.

Iruka's face softens. There’s a bit too much understanding in his eyes for Kakashi’s liking, and he suddenly feels very exposed. He cuts his gaze away sharply, clearing his throat.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” he says. “Don’t you have a group of brats to supervise?”

He didn’t mean anything by the words; he just wanted Iruka to stop looking at him like that. Apparently, he succeeds a bit too well, because the teacher's expression immediately hardens.

“Those brats,” he puts a particular emphasis on the word, “went on break a couple weeks ago. Classes don’t resume for a few more days.”

He says this like it’s something that Kakashi should already know. Which it probably is, but Kakashi doesn’t usually bother to keep track of dates unless it’s an anniversary of some kind.

“As for why I'm here, he may be your student, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about him.”

Kakashi winces at the ice in the other man’s voice. Guilt stirs in his chest, at the reminder of his words during their argument.

They’re not your students anymore. They’re mine.

The words were harsh. True, yes, but that doesn’t mean they needed to be said.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he says, after a moment of charged silence. “I would never expect you to stop caring about him—about any of them. And I was out of line with what I said before.”

Iruka presses his lips into a thin line. The anger in his eyes dims—not completely, but slightly. “I know you think I coddle them,” he says. “But I’m only trying to keep them safe. I may only be a schoolteacher, but I’m not ignorant to the dangers they’re placing themselves in. I’ve lost some of my best students because they tried to take on too much before they were ready. This village is so quick to throw their shinobi out into the world the moment they step out the Academy doors. But they’re still just children.”

Kakashi stares at him, as the chuunin turns his face away, back to Sasuke. Slowly, Kakashi lowers himself into the chair next to him. He’s quiet, searching for the correct words.

“I graduated the Academy at five,” he says. “I took the Chuunin Exams at six, and I passed.”

Iruka turns to look at him, frowning slightly.

“You say that they’re children,” he continues. “That they’re not ready. But I’ve never seen it that way. Compared to the way things used to be, they’ve had more than enough time to prepare for shinobi life. And that’s what my job is. To prepare them. Coddle them all you want, sensei. You’re allowed to. But I’m not allowed to do the same. Not if I want to keep them alive.”

Iruka looks at him for a moment, then looks away. “You’re right,” he admits. “I should’ve thought about it like that, but I—”

“But you care about them,” he says, smiling slightly. “Like I said, you’re allowed. Being hard on them isn’t your job.”

“But it is yours?” Iruka questions. “Then shouldn’t you be training them? All of them? Naruto told me you trained Sasuke for the third round of the Exams, but you didn’t train him.”

Kakashi frowns at the words. They’re true, but he despises the way they are spoken. “It wasn’t like that. I was teaching Sasuke a move that only he could master. And I was the only one who could teach him it.”

“The Chidori,” says Iruka with a nod. “I know, I saw it. I’m only saying… Naruto was pretty upset about you not training him. He seemed to think you were playing favorites.”

Kakashi blinks, stricken. “Favorites?” he repeats, because the idea honestly never occurred to him. “I wasn’t—I don’t play favorites with my students.”

Iruka sighs. “What was he supposed to think, Kakashi? You took Sasuke for private training to teach him one of your deadliest moves, and you pawned him off on someone else.”

“I didn’t pawn him off,” he protests, even as a sinking sensation takes place in his stomach. “I just—I wanted to give him his best chance to improve. I knew he wouldn’t get that with me, so I let someone else train him.”

“He didn’t want anyone else to train him. He wanted you. And now he thinks that you don’t want him.”

Kakashi winces at the words. He thinks about Naruto, standing in the lobby of the hospital and yelling at him accusingly, You’re gonna train Sasuke, aren’t you! He wonders how he could have failed to notice the disappointment in the boy’s tone. Does Sakura feel the same?

It wasn’t favoritism that caused Kakashi to place Naruto in another sensei’s care. He connects more with Sasuke than he does with either of his other students, but the idea of favorites has never crossed his mind. He loves all three of his students equally.

From the very beginning, he’s seen himself in Sasuke. Seen a boy so broken, that the only way to survive the world was to make himself cold. He knows that feeling, connects with him in a way he never has with Naruto and Sakura.

He and Naruto don’t have that. Perhaps it’s simply that they’re too different; or maybe it’s the ghosts of Minato and Kushina that keep Kakashi from getting too close. Either way, he doesn’t know how to help Naruto the way he should. He isn’t what the boy needs.

He tried to do make the correct judgment. He assumed Naruto would be glad. The boy never seemed to think much of him as a teacher, and he assumed that he would jump at the chance to learn from someone else. To learn from an adult with actual experience, who actually knew what they were doing.

The idea that Naruto might’ve felt looked over—might’ve felt discarded—never occurred to him. He never intended on making any of his students feel lesser in his eyes. He was just doing what he felt was best.

He can’t be a mentor. Can’t be a guiding hand, like his sensei was for him. Some days, he isn’t sure he remembers how to even be human.

“I never meant…” Kakashi shakes his head at his own naivety. “That’s not the least bit true. I never meant for him to think that it was.”

“I believe you. But whether you intended it or not, it’s how he feels.”

Kakashi hunches his shoulders. Shame tastes like dust in the back of his throat. He’s never felt more inadequate for the position he’s been given. He doesn’t know how to touch things without ruining them.

Why? he wants to ask the Sandaime. Why trust me with something so delicate, so fragile?

But the Hokage is dead now, and Kakashi will never have an answer.

He looks to Iruka, so sure of himself where Kakashi is floundering. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits.

Iruka’s expression is kind as he smiles. “That’s normal. Teaching isn’t easy. It’s a learning process.”

“How do I fix it?”

“You just have to be real with him,” Iruka says. “Don’t talk to him like a teacher to a student, he won’t respond to that. You have to get on his level. Be a person, not a shinobi.”

Kakashi’s mouth tightens. Not a shinobi. He doesn’t think he’s ever been anything else. Maybe once, before his father’s blood stained the training room floor, but he’s long forgotten it by now.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he says, and he immediately wants to yank the words back out of the air. They feel like exposing a piece of himself.

But Iruka’s eyes aren’t critical, or pitying, as he feared. There’s a warmth in them that wasn’t there before. “It’s never too late to start trying.”

Try, Kakashi repeats. Try. He stares down at Sasuke, who he’s tried so hard to help. Tried so hard to save. I can definitely do that.

Kakashi’s an expert at trying. It’s succeeding that's always been the issue.

Chapter Text

Naruto picks a fight with Tsunade not even five minutes into meeting her. It’s totally justified though, because she’s clearly a horrible person.

She calls being Hokage a bother, spits right in the Third Hokage’s memory. Then she refuses to return to the village, even to save Sasuke, and what else is Naruto supposed to do then but take a swing at her?

She tells Naruto that his dream is nothing but a false hope, and Naruto has never been so offended in his life.

This woman, become the Fifth Hokage? What is Pervy Sage thinking?

“It’s not a joke!” he yells. His hair is wet with rainwater, and his ears are still ringing from the blow she dealt him. “I will master this jutsu! And I will become Hokage!”

She tilts her head, considering him. “In that case, how about a wager?”

Naruto blinks. Anger is replaced with surprise. “A wager…?”

“I’ll give you one week,” Tsunade says to him. “If you can master that jutsu, I’ll believe you have what it takes to become Hokage.”

It’s tempting. God, is it tempting. All Naruto’s ever wanted is to prove himself. To make people see him. He wants to tell someone he’s going to be Hokage, and he wants them to look at him like they actually believe him. This woman is offering him that chance, and he really doesn’t like her, but he still wants her to believe him. It’s a chance that he almost takes.

But he remembers Sasuke. He remembers Sasuke on that hotel room floor, pale and bruised and bleeding. He remembers how lifeless he had looked, how broken.

He’d promised he’d learn a new jutsu—that he’d come back and show Sasuke just how powerful he’d become. But he’d also promised to help him—because he'd once again risked his life for Naruto, ended up nearly dead, for Naruto.

(Itachi Uchiha had been after him, after all. And maybe Sasuke had had his own motives for showing up in that hallway, but he had still saved Naruto’s life. Again.)

And that’s how he decides, in the end. He wants to grow stronger, to prove himself to Sasuke. But not as much as he wants to save Sasuke’s life.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t wait another week. I told you, my friend is dying! I need you to come back with us now!”

Okay, so he doesn’t actually know if Sasuke is dying. He doesn’t know what his condition is at all. But he remembers the grim looks Jiraiya and Gai had traded in that hallway, and the way they had looked at Sasuke, and he knows enough to know that it’s bad. And according to Jiraiya, this woman is the only one who might be capable of fixing it.

Tsunade's lips are a thin line. Her jaw is tense, her arms crossed.

“Please,” Naruto says. “You’re the only one that can help him.”

An emotion flickers briefly across the woman’s face, but it’s quickly hidden away. “I already told you. I won’t return to Konoha.”

Disbelief spreads within him. “But he’s dying!”

“Lots of people die, brat. That’s life. Better you get used to it now.”

Naruto stares at her with wide eyes. Off to the side, Jiraiya winces, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tsunade,” he says, halfway between a hiss and a sigh.

Indignant rage spreads through him at the words. His teeth clench, his hands becoming fists. But still, beneath the callous words, there’s a hint of something else, something sad, and Naruto thinks he’s beginning to understand.

“That’s not true!” he yells. “People don’t just die!” He remembers her earlier words, about the Sandaime being old and foolish, and he continues, “The Third wasn’t a fool for choosing to fight! Maybe if you had been there to help him, it wouldn’t have happened!”

“Naruto!” Jiraiya snaps. Naruto spares a glance in his direction. He’s never seen the man look so harsh with him before. “You’re out of line.”

Naruto turns back to Tsunade. He knows the words he said to her probably aren’t true. That’s okay. He’s not trying to hurt Tsunade, or to give her a guilt trip; he’s just trying to prove something to himself.

Tsunade’s face breaks at the words, her cold mask splitting. The guilt and grief in her eyes is a startling sight.

Naruto was right. She was never angry at the Third for dying. She’s angry at herself for not being there when he did.

“Tsunade,” Jiraiya says softly, taking a step forward. He hasn’t seen her look this heartbroken since Dan.

Tsunade holds up a hand in his direction. “Don’t,” she says. “Let him speak.”

She’s looking at Naruto in a way she didn’t before. Like she’s actually seeing him. Her gaze is sharp and keen.

“People don’t die because of life,” Naruto snaps. This is something he knows. Sasuke’s parents didn’t die because of life, and neither did Iruka-sensei's. And Naruto doesn’t know anything about his own parents, but he’s sure that’s not why they died, either. He has to believe that they wanted to be here—to be with him. “People die because somebody lets them. Because someone had the power to stop them and didn’t.”

He watches the way the words hit Tsunade, the way she’s visibly affected by them. They hit Jiraiya, too, and he wrestles with the truth of them.

The Third Hokage didn’t just die—they let him stand alone, instead of fighting by his side. And Orochimaru didn’t just leave Konoha behind—Jiraiya and Tsunade let him walk away. And that’s a weight they’re going to have to carry on their souls forever.

“I’m sorry about your sensei,” Naruto tells her. “I’m sorry your team fell apart. But Sasuke isn’t the Sandaime, and he isn’t Orochimaru.”

Jiraiya winces, and remembers the stone casket where the Third’s body had been placed. Tsunade remembers the last memory she has of her teammate, standing at the village gates, eyes cruel and slitted, his smile razor-sharp.

(“Orochimaru. If you do this… there’s no coming back from it.”

“I’m not coming back.”)

“You lost them,” Naruto says to her—to both of them. “Please. Don’t make me lose him.”

Tsunade looks into his eyes, and the conviction within them is so familiar, but for a moment, she can’t place it. When she finally does, it makes her breath catch in her chest.

Dan, she realizes. He reminds her of Dan.

Tsunade shoots a glare at Jiraiya. You bastard, she thinks at him, knowing he can clearly read what she’s thinking. Bringing him with you. This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?

“Alright,” she says finally, turning back to the painfully familiar boy in front of her. “I’ll come with you.”

Naruto whoops with joy, his smile wide and splitting his face. It reminds Tsunade of her brother.

Damn you, Jiraiya, she thinks again, as her heart gives a painful twinge. Damn you.

It’s been nearly three days now that Sasuke’s been asleep, and Sakura feels like she’s slowly losing her mind.

(And perhaps asleep isn’t the correct word. More like unconscious. Unresponsive. But those words sound so scary in her head, and asleep just sounds so much nicer.).

Life just doesn’t feel right, without Sasuke there with her. It doesn’t feel like hers. She’s living someone else’s life, walking in someone else’s shoes, because her life has Sasuke in it, and he’s not here now, so it can’t possibly be hers. It can’t be.

She keeps waiting for the moment she wakes up. Or the moment when it all becomes real. But she doesn’t wake up because this isn’t a dream, and the only one who’s sleeping is Sasuke.

(Not sleeping. Unconscious. Unresponsive. Comatose.)

She misses him. She misses him so much, and it’s an awful feeling, because Sakura’s never had to miss anyone before. Everyone who’s ever come into her life has always stayed there.

It’s an ugly thing, and it weighs down her heart, makes it hard to breathe. She wonders if this is how Sasuke feels all the time. She wonders how he’s able to bear it.

How do you get out of bed every morning? she wonders at him silently. She places her hand against her chest, feeling the fragile beat of her heart against her palm. How do you stand? How do you breathe?

It’s eight in the morning, and she’s walking down the street toward the training grounds. Training started an hour ago, but she has no real desire to be there. It’s not like Kakashi is ever on time anyway.

It’s the first training session since Sasuke was attacked, since Naruto left, and Sakura doesn’t understand the point of it. What’s the use in training when only one-third of their squad is present? When the one who’s left behind is undoubtedly the weakest?

Kakashi hardly ever trains her anyway. Training is just a farce. An attempt to keep routine, to pretend like nothing has changed, like everything isn’t falling apart.

She just feels so powerless. Useless, and worthless, and utterly weak. Sasuke is always saving her—shielding her, or shoving her out of the way—and now he’s the one who needs saving, and she can’t do anything but watch.

Even Naruto is helping. Off somewhere miles away, chasing after their only solution. Sakura is just watching. Is just waiting.

Waiting for Sasuke to wake up. Waiting for Naruto to come home.

She misses him. She misses both of them, which is something that surprised her. Naruto is always so loud and annoying; she never thought she’d miss him when he was no longer there.

But she does. She misses him the same way she misses Sasuke. She misses his wide grin and noisy voice; she misses the way he and Sasuke bicker, the way Kakashi has to get between them and pull them apart. She misses the warm feeling she gets in her chest when they’re around, the feeling of having somewhere to belong.

She doesn’t know when it happened, but at some point Team Seven became her home. And she’s terrified that she’s going to lose it.

Her stomach in knots, she tucks her hair behind her ear as she walks, noticing as she does it that her fingers are shaking. She curls them into her palm repeatedly, but they refuse to stop.

“Sakura!” a voice calls. “There you are!”

It’s Ino. She’s standing on one of the training fields with the rest of her team, and it’s only the lack of that insulting nickname she uses that causes Sakura to stop.

She separates from her team, running over to meet with Sakura on the sidewalk. She pauses once she’s standing in front of her, looking suddenly unsure of what to say.

“How are you?” she asks finally. “I… I’ve been worried.”

Her voice isn’t snobbish or mocking like it usually is. The question sounds completely genuine, and it catches Sakura off guard.

“You… were?”

“Of course,” Ino responds. She casts a look behind her, back at her teammates. “We all heard about Sasuke-kun. It’s so horrible. What happened exactly?”

Sakura shuts down immediately. She should have known that Ino was just concerned about Sasuke. For a moment, she actually thought Ino was concerned about her.

Of course she isn’t. How stupid of her to think.

“I’m not allowed to discuss what happened,” says Sakura, and she’s unable to suppress the slightest tremor to her voice as she recalls what Kakashi told her. He was attacked. His brother— “I need to get to training. If you’re that concerned about him, you can go visit him at the hospital.”

“I tried that. But they wouldn’t let me in—Sakura, wait!”

Sakura shoulders past her, her hands trembling harder than ever. Ino calls out to her again, but she doesn’t respond, just keeps walking forward. Tears sting at her eyes, and she doesn’t know where they come from. She pushes them back.

Don’t cry. Why are you even crying?

It’s not Ino. She knows that. She’s actually starting to feel a bit bad, because Ino really did look concerned, and Sakura knows that she cares about Sasuke too. But her heart is in her throat, and her stomach is in knots, and she doesn’t want to talk about Sasuke, because talking about Sasuke makes her remember that he might never wake up.

Oh god, what if he never wakes up?

Tears push against the back of her eyes again. She blinks them away, silently reciting rule twenty-five in her head.

When she reaches the training field, Kakashi is already there, which is something that’s never happened before.

“You’re late,” he says, but his voice isn’t reprimanding. There’s a hint of concern in it.

And you’re not, she thinks, but instead of saying it, she just shrugs. She doesn’t feel much like speaking. This whole thing feels utterly wrong; she shouldn’t be here, not without Naruto and Sasuke.

“What are we doing today?” she asks.

“Target practice,” Kakashi tells her. His wrist flicks, a movement barely perceptible to her eyes, and a shuriken suddenly whistles through the air next to her cheek.

She barely refrains from jumping. It embeds itself in the post behind her.

“You’ve excelled in learning to control your chakra,” says Kakashi. “And you’ve made real strides in your hand-to-hand combat ability. But your aim could still use some work.”

Sakura tries not to take his words as a slight, tries to accept them as the constructive advice they’re meant to be. Kakashi directs her in how to stand, going over with her where to place her feet, where to direct her gaze. Then he steps back out of her range, and she draws the shuriken from her belt to begin throwing.

She’s never had very good aim, whether it be with shuriken or with kunai. She likes to believe she’s better at it than Naruto, but she’s still nowhere near Sasuke’s level. As she practices, only about half of her throws hit the center; the other half thunk hard against the sides.

She slowly grows more and more frustrated. She throws the shuriken quicker now, faster, and her grip on her weapons becomes careless. She slices her fingers open on the edges.

She thinks about Sasuke in that hospital bed, pale and fragile and broken. The back of her throat burns at her own helplessness. Why can’t she do it? Why can’t she hit the stupid target? Why can’t she help him? Why can’t she do anything?

Kakashi notices her carelessness, the way her throws begin to go wider, the blood causing the shuriken to slip in her hand.

“Sakura,” he calls. Then sharper, when she doesn’t respond: “Sakura. That’s enough.”

She doesn’t listen. Her eyes are stinging. She throws another shuriken, and this one misses the post completely. There’s something sitting on her chest, a heavy weight pressing against her ribs.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Why can’t you do anything?

A sob rips out of her. Her knees give out, but Kakashi is already there, intercepting her before she hits the ground. She falls against his chest, and he plucks the shuriken from her fingers, flinging it away from her.

She doesn’t know why she’s crying. But there’s been this pressure building inside her for days now, and it’s too huge for her to hold it in any longer. She chokes on her own tears, struggling to stop them from coming, but the sobs continue.

“Shh.” Her sensei's hand is on her back, hesitant and awkward, as if he’s unsure of how to respond, but the weight of it is still somehow calming. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she chokes out. Another sob breaks through her words, and she presses her hand against her mouth. “I’m sorry—”

She feels Kakashi’s chin brush against her hair as he shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

She pulls back slightly, sniffling. “B-But—a shinobi must nev-never show t-tears—”

Something twists in Kakashi’s face, as if the words are painful to him. “That’s not true. You can cry if you need to.”

She shakes her head. Her crying quiets to desperate gasping, and she struggles to even her breathing. “I don’t even—I don’t even know w-why I’m cr-crying—I'm so p-pathetic—”

“You’re not pathetic,” Kakashi says strongly. His hands are gentle on her shoulders, and she forces her head up to look at him. “Sometimes things are just too much. Don’t be upset for having feelings.”

She sniffs, scrubbing at the tears on her face. Her entire body feels extremely shaky—like a single guest of wind could blow her away. But the words are anchoring, and she feels something inside her calm slightly.

She still can’t stop seeing Sasuke on that hospital bed. She looks at Kakashi with shining eyes. “I’m scared,” she admits.

Kakashi is silent for a moment, and the look on his face is painful to look at. “I know,” he responds. “So am I.”

She closes her eyes against the flow of tears, fighting the flood of despair that fills her. She opens them again to look at him.

“Sasuke-kun’s going to die, isn’t he?” she whispers.

Kakashi jerks as if he’s been slapped. “No,” he says, and there’s a current of steel in his voice that Sakura’s only heard once before—only heard when Kakashi turned to Sasuke in the Land of Waves and said, Don’t worry, Sasuke. I won’t ever allow my comrades to die.

“No he isn’t,” Kakashi repeats. “He’s going to wake up, he’s going to be fine, I promise.”

Sakura looks at him, a fragile hope inside her. “Really? You promise?”

And if Kakashi hesitates just a fraction too long before he answers, looks a bit too uncertain, then Sakura doesn’t allow herself to notice it.

“…I promise.”

Chapter Text

It’s been nearly a week since Itachi blew through Konoha, leaving a trail of broken glass in his wake. Sasuke remains comatose, his condition unchanging. Kakashi hardly ever leaves his side.

Gai watches his rival, and he worries.

It’s not a new feeling, this worry. Gai’s spent his entire life worrying about Kakashi. It’s second nature by now. When he thinks on it too long, he realizes he’s hard-pressed to recall a time when he wasn’t worried for Kakashi. Perhaps before Sakumo, but they hardly knew each other then.

Gai had made Kakashi his rival the second he laid eyes on him. It wasn’t until after Sakumo that he made an effort to be his friend.

It’s taken him years to finally break through, but today Gai is proud to be one of the few people Kakashi trusts. To be the one who knows him the best. From Sakumo, to ANBU, to the dozens of tragedies in between, Gai has been there with him through it all. He’s refused to be moved, even when Kakashi’s done everything possible to push him away.

Gai knows how Kakashi reacts. Knows the way his own perceived failure wraps around his neck like a noose. Which is why he refuses to leave him alone in his self-imposed exile, no matter how much he may wish it.

Kakashi will kill himself, one of these days. And he won’t even realize he’s doing it.

“You look like hell, Kakashi,” Gai tells him, after five days of near silence. “Don’t do this to yourself. Step away for a few hours. Give yourself space to breathe.”

If Kakashi is surprised by his sudden appearance, he doesn’t show it. He sits in the chair by the bed, and his face doesn’t turn toward the doorway. “I can’t,” he says. “I need to be here.”

His gaze doesn’t move from his student. Wishing to see his face when they speak, Gai steps further into the room. “You can’t be by his side twenty-four seven. You need to take care of yourself. And what about Sakura?”

“Sakura came by earlier.” Something slightly pained flits across his face, and he continues, “We tried to train a bit yesterday, but—we decided it’d be best to hold off on any more for now. At least until Naruto returns.”

There’s more to that story, Gai can tell. But observing the tight expression on his rival’s face, he decides not to pry. Not now, at least.

Kakashi looks unbelievably tired, which isn’t a surprise. He's putting up a convincing front, but Gai knows he still hasn’t completely recovered from whatever it was that Itachi did to him. And he isn’t going to recover, not if he keeps going on like this. He needs to go home. He needs sleep.

But Gai knows how stubborn his rival is. He knows Kakashi will never agree to it. So he compromises. He can’t let this go on; even if it’s not to rest, Kakashi needs to get out of this hospital.

“Come out with me,” he says. “We’ll get lunch. The food here is awful.”

Gai can’t see because of the mask, but he thinks Kakashi smiles slightly. “It is,” he agrees. Kakashi ends up in the hospital at least once a month, so he would know better than anyone. Gai often jokes that he should just get his own room there and move in.

“Then let’s go!” Gai urges him.

Gai can tell he’s tempted by the offer. But his gaze falls once again on Sasuke, and he closes off.

“I’m not hungry.”

Like hell you aren’t, Gai thinks. He sighs.

He can’t be angry at Kakashi for being so stubborn. It wasn’t too long ago when their positions were reversed. When it was Gai sitting in that chair by that hospital bed, refusing to be moved from his student's side.

Lee, Gai thinks, a familiar ache in his heart. He should go pay him another visit soon.

He forces his thoughts away from Lee for the moment. There’s nothing Gai can do to help him right now—just as there’s nothing Kakashi can do to help Sasuke. Instead, he focuses on the person he can help.

“There’s nothing you can do for him now,” he tells Kakashi gently. The troubled expression that flashes across his face is painful to watch, because Gai knows how he feels. But the words are true, and he needs to hear them. “If he’s going to wake up, he’ll wake up. You’re not helping him any by running yourself into the ground like this.”

Kakashi visibly wavers. Gai seizes his moment of hesitation immediately. “Don’t make me drag you, Kakashi! You know I’ll do it!”

He will do it. He has. After Rin, after Minato and Kushina—he barged into Kakashi’s apartment, forcing him out of his solitude and back into the world. He didn’t care for his protests then; he doesn’t care for them now.

Kakashi knows this too well. He sighs, reluctantly caving.

“Fine, fine, I’m coming,” he agrees, standing from the chair. “Just don’t knock me out. You gave me a concussion last time.”

Kakashi spares one last look at Sasuke, pale and unmoving on the bed, before he follows Gai from the room. Gai grins in victory beside him.

“What about that yakitori stand by your apartment? I bet I can beat you there. Loser has to circle around the village on their hands!”

Kakashi doesn’t agree to race him to the yakitori stand, which Gai is secretly relieved by since he looks so exhausted, but he makes a show of being disappointed.

“I think I’ll circle around the village on my hands anyway,” Gai tells him when they get there. “I’ve got to keep myself hip and in shape, after all!”

“You do that,” Kakashi responds tonelessly. He drops himself onto one of the stools.

Gai takes a seat next to Kakashi and orders himself a skewer of chicken. He shoves one on Kakashi as well once it’s clear the man isn’t going to ask for one. Kakashi doesn’t look too enthused, but he takes the stick without protesting, so Gai counts it as a win.

The sun is still rather high in the sky, though the afternoon is now reaching into the evening. In the sunlight, Kakashi looks much paler than he did in the hospital. It wasn’t as noticeable surrounded by the white walls and white floors, but now it’s really thrown into focus. He looks terrible.

“You look awful, Kakashi.”

“So you’ve already said.” Kakashi’s eyebrow rises, disappearing beneath his slanted headband. “And thank you. You really know how to flatter somebody.”

Gai observes his rival closely. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s trying not to be obvious with how heavily he’s leaning on the counter. He doesn’t look hip or youthful at all. It’s distressing to Gai to see him in such a state.

“How have you been?” he asks.

Kakashi gives him a dry look that seems to communicate that he thinks Gai’s an idiot. “My student is in a coma,” he says. “How do you think?”

Gai winces. “I meant physically,” he corrects. “Itachi did a number on you, and I know you’re still recovering from that.” Kakashi makes a displeased face him, and Gai brandishes his skewer of chicken at him before he can protest. “Don’t say you’re not, Kakashi! I saw you stumble on your way here!”

“I tripped.”

“Six times?”

Kakashi scowls at him. “You counted?”

“Of course I did! What kind of rival do you take me for!” He bites a piece of chicken off the end of his kabob. “But seriously, Kakashi. You’re not well.”

Kakashi sighs. “I’m fine, Gai. Just a bit tired.”

“Exactly!” Gai jabs his skewer forward, pointing it at Kakashi. Kakashi's eyes widen, and he leans back so the end of it doesn’t stab him in the throat. “You’re tired! And do you know why you’re tired? It’s because you’re still recovering! Except you’re not allowing yourself to recover, because you’re not getting any sleep!”

Kakashi eyes the pointed end of Gai’s skewer as if it’s a deadly weapon instead of a flimsy piece of wood. Slowly, he raises his arm and places his hand on it, lowering it from his face.

“You’re going to give me a tracheotomy with that thing, put it down. I’m fine. I’m sleeping fine.”

Gai narrows his eyes at him, at his weary posture and the circles beneath his eyes. He shakes his head. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “You look terrible.”

“Yes, we’ve been through this twice now,” Kakashi responds. He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Look,” he begins reluctantly, but sounding more serious, “I admit that Itachi’s genjutsu has been having some prolonged effects on me. But I’m getting through it. There’s no need for you to worry.”

There’s always a need with you, he thinks, half irritated and half fond. Still, he decides to drop it. For now. He can bully Kakashi into resting some other time. He’ll even enlist Asuma and Kurenai to help him. Maybe Genma and Raidou as well, if Kakashi decides to be particularly difficult about it.

“What exactly did he do to you, anyway?” Gai asks. “I know it was genjutsu, but… I’ve never seen anything drop you like that.”

He wasn’t there for the start of the fight. He only came in near the end, when Kakashi was already on his knees in the water. And then he just passed out. It was terrifying.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Kakashi admits. “I’ve been placed under genjutsu before, but never anything like that.” His face twists with the memory of pain. “Everything was unbelievably vivid. I lost count of how many times he stabbed me. Seventy-two hours, and barely even a moment in the real world.”

Gai needs a moment to process that. “Seventy-two hours?” he repeats. “You're telling me he tortured you under genjutsu for seventy-two hours?”

“He said it was seventy-two hours,” says Kakashi. “Honestly, it felt like a lot longer.”

The look in Kakashi’s visible eye is slightly haunted, remembering the experience. Gai knows Kakashi’s been tortured before, usually emerging mostly unaffected, so it must have been pretty bad if it’s causing him to linger on it like this. Gai’s never heard of a genjutsu as powerful as the one he’s describing.

Gai recalls what Asuma and Kurenai said to him—how one second Kakashi was fine, and the next he was on his knees. No wonder he collapsed, Gai thought. It’s a miracle he isn’t in the same state as Sasuke.

With that realization comes a whole new wave of horror, as Gai realizes that the genjutsu that Kakashi just described was likely the one used on Sasuke. “And Sasuke? You think Itachi did the same thing to him?”

The hand Kakashi’s placed on the counter tightens. His face is white. “From what Jiraiya said to you, it seems like the same trick. But we won’t know until he wakes up.”

If he wakes up, Gai thinks. But he’s not cruel enough to ever say that out loud.

Despite Gai’s natural optimism, he can’t help thinking that Sasuke’s chances aren’t good. Especially now that he knows more about the specific type of damage they’re dealing with. He’s seen experienced shinobi break from much less. He knows Kakashi has too.

Kakashi must be able to tell his thoughts from the look on his face, because his expression hardens. “Sasuke is strong,” he says. “One of the strongest kids I’ve met. He’ll pull through. He did it before.”

Gai frowns in confusion. “Before? You mean that mission you guys went on in Wave?”

Kakashi hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, I meant… after the massacre.”

Gai frowns, thinking back to that time. He wasn’t ANBU, so he wasn’t involved at all in the aftermath of the massacre like Kakashi was. All he knows is what he’s been told.

“It was bad afterwards?” he asks. He’s always been under the impression that Sasuke was unhurt in the massacre. That Itachi, for some reason, left him unharmed (physically at least).

“The Third gave me access to Sasuke’s medical files when he became my student. Apparently, he was left in a similar state then as he is now.”

Gai processes that, latches onto what Kakashi isn’t specifically saying. “Are you suggesting… you think Itachi used the same genjutsu on him then? On a seven-year-old?”

The warring expression on Kakashi’s face matches Gai’s feelings perfectly. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just know it sounds the same. And if he recovered then…”

Kakashi trails off, falling into silence. He’s obviously horrified by the prospect of his student enduring the same mental torture he did—and at only seven years old. Gai himself is horrified, and he’s never even spoken to Sasuke.

Gai has lived the life of a shinobi for over two decades now, and in that time he’s seen many terrible things. But somehow, the human capacity for cruelty never ceases to shock him.

“He would do that to a child?” Gai says. His hand becomes a fist. “To his brother?”

He wonders why he’s even surprised. It was him after all, who told Kurenai just days ago that Itachi’s actions aren’t ones that can be reasoned with; that they’re the actions of a monster. Yet, he’s still shocked.

Itachi himself is only eighteen. Barely an adult himself. It’s nearly impossible to think of someone so coldblooded as being so young.

“Itachi Uchiha…” Gai says. He thinks of a thirteen-year-old boy deciding to slaughter his entire family in one night—no older than Sasuke, no older than Lee. He shakes his head. “Honestly, I still can’t believe it.”

“Me either,” Kakashi says softly, and something in his voice makes Gai turn to look at him. There’s an ache on his face, but it’s not the same as before. This pain is duller, older.

Gai looks at the expression in confusion, until the realization hits him. Oh.

He remembers the ANBU mission from years ago that he stumbled into; a dark-haired boy in a cat mask, surrounded by bodies and standing at Kakashi’s side.

“That’s right,” says Gai. “I forgot you two knew each other before.”

Kakashi immediately shuts down. “I’m not allowed to talk about that.”

Gai winces at the hard look on Kakashi’s face—the way any semblance of an expression seemed to fall away. There are only a few subjects that can provoke such a reaction from him, and it seems Gai has just found another one. Kakashi’s time in ANBU with Itachi is a subject that is Off Limits.

Off Limits is how it should be. ANBU operatives carry out their missions in complete secrecy, and their identities beneath their masks are kept hidden even from each other. The only reason Gai even knows Itachi was on Kakashi’s squad is because he figured it out himself; Kakashi always seemed to take the massacre a bit personally, even before getting Sasuke as a student.

Itachi is no doubt another thing he blames himself for—even though he has absolutely no reason to.

“So Jiraiya’s going after Tsunade, huh?” Gai asks. A blatant change of subject. “She should make a good Hokage. What do you think?”

“I guess.”

There’s a subtle note of something in his voice when he answers, and Gai frowns at him. “What do you have against Tsunade?”

Kakashi shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I barely know her.”

He sounds truthful, but he still has that slight edge in his voice that suggests he’s not saying something. Gai considers it for a moment before deciding not to push it.

“Why do you suppose Jiraiya took Naruto with him?”

“Don’t know,” Kakashi responds. “He didn’t even ask me about it beforehand. But Naruto seemed more than happy to go with him.”

Gai presses his lips together when he hears that, feeling indignant on Kakashi’s behalf. “He should’ve requested your permission! Why, if it were one of my students—!”

Kakashi waves a hand at him to quiet him down. “I don’t mind, it’s not a big deal.”

Gai huffs, disagreeing. Still, despite the words, Kakashi looks bothered by something. “Alright,” he says. “Then what’s making your face look like that?”

Kakashi doesn’t look at him. He drums his fingers against the counter, his gaze forward.

“Kakashi.”

Kakashi snaps his head to the side to look at him. “Do you think I’m a bad teacher?” he asks suddenly.

Gai blinks, startled. “What?”

Because where the hell did that come from? Gai goes over their conversation in his head, but he can’t see anything that might’ve led to that question.

Kakashi is quiet for a few moments, his fingers drumming against the counter. “Iruka Umino said something to me a few days ago,” he begins haltingly. “And it just got me thinking. He accused me of playing favorites. And I think he might’ve been right. I think maybe I have been.”

Gai goes over what he remembers from the interactions he’s seen between Kakashi and his students. “I don’t think that’s true,” he says slowly, thinking. “I mean, I know you trained Sasuke for the Chuunin Exams. But you were the only one able to teach him the chidori. And from what you explained to me, it’s not a move that can be taught to Naruto.”

“I still should’ve trained Naruto myself,” Kakashi says. “I shouldn’t have pawned him off on someone else. And I’ve neglected Sakura as well, my training session with her yesterday proved that.”

Gai sighs, trying to think about what to say. He has noticed Kakashi leaning a bit more toward Sasuke than his other two students. But then, he does the same thing with Lee.

“It’s not a crime to relate to one of your students more than the others,” Gai tells him. “Sometimes you just connect with them in a way you don’t with the other two. You just have to make sure those feelings don’t affect your teaching.”

Kakashi is quiet for a long moment. “So what you’re saying,” he finally responds, “is that it’s okay to have favorites. It’s just not okay to play favorites.”

Gai thinks about Lee. He could lie to himself and say he doesn’t have a favorite student—that Neji and Tenten are just as dear to him. But he knows that that isn’t true. Lee holds a special place in his heart.

But he never lets that affect their training. Never offers Lee more, or the others less. He cares for them all uniquely, and he offers the same level of care to all three of them.

But he looks at Lee—and he sees himself.

“Do you know what I thought during the preliminaries,” says Gai, “when I first saw Sasuke fight?”

Kakashi frowns. “What?”

“I thought, ‘this kid reminds me of Kakashi’.”

Kakashi blinks in surprise, but before he can speak Gai goes on, “I looked at him, and I saw you as you used to be. A lonely kid, angry at the entire world. Determined to isolate himself from everyone else. I understand why you want to help him so badly, Kakashi. I understand why you feel like you need to.”

Kakashi looks down, directing his gaze toward the counter in front of him. “Our circumstances are way different,” he says. “But I swear, Gai. Sometimes it’s like looking into a mirror, and it terrifies me.”

Gai listens silently. This, he doesn’t understand as well. The likeness between him and Lee has always been something he’s cherished. He doesn’t know what it’s like to look upon those similarities and dread them.

“And I’ve been trying recently,” Kakashi continues. “I’ve been trying to fix it. With Sakura, at least, since Naruto’s not here. But I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Gai considers him. “Just show them you’re trying,” he says.

“Trying,” Kakashi repeats. He huffs quietly, shaking his head. “Iruka said close to the same thing.”

“Well then, it’s clearly excellent advice! You should follow it!”

Kakashi laughs. The chicken on his skewer is gone, and Gai stares at it for a moment, wondering how he managed to eat it without appearing to pull down his mask. That Kakashi! How does he always do that!

“You’re right to try and help him, you know.”

Kakashi looks over at him, frowning, and Gai clarifies, “Sasuke. He needs help. He’s like a young you, so that’s how I can tell.”

Kakashi nods. “I know,” he says, and his gaze is heavy. “I know.”

“Help him, Kakashi,” Gai tells him firmly. “Don’t wait for him to ask for it. Because if he’s anything like you, then he never will.”

That evening, Kakashi returns to the hospital. Head still spinning with Gai’s words, he sinks into the chair by Sasuke’s bed.

Help him. Don’t wait for him to ask for it.

Heart aching, he reaches out to take his student’s hand. His skin is cold.

“Wake up, Sasuke,” he whispers. “I’m right here. I’m not giving up.”

Beneath his hand, he thinks he feels Sasuke’s fingers twitch.

Chapter Text

Word of Orochimaru’s attack on Konohagakure spread quickly through the Land of Fire. Tsunade listened, and she thought she knew what to expect. She thought she was prepared.

She isn’t.

Nothing prepares her for the sight of her home in shambles—because Konoha is her home, no matter how many years she spent away trying to convince herself otherwise. And now, that home has been torn apart at the hands of someone she used to love.

(Someone she still loves.)

Perhaps in shambles is a bit of an exaggeration. There seems to be entire portions of the village that have gone completely untouched, and reconstruction seems to be well underway. But each piece of debris, each crumbling building or boarded up rooftop, makes her heart clench in her chest. Her hand becomes a fist at her side.

Orochimaru, she thinks, remembers the six-year-old boy who once blushed when Tsunade told him she thought his hair was pretty. How could you?

She doesn’t look up at the Hokage Monument. Seeing Sarutobi’s face carved into the rock would be too painful.

Beside her, Jiraiya reaches forward to briefly squeeze her hand. She squeezes back. There are no words needed between them.

(I’m here, the touch means.

I know, she responds.)

“Come on, dattebayo!” Naruto yells from ahead of them. “The hospital's this way!”

The loud words cause some of the depression to fade from her mind. She watches as Naruto quickens his pace, racing ahead of them. She turns to Jiraiya with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile.

“’Dattebayo'?” she repeats.

Jiraiya grins, a free expression that chases the grief from his face. “I know. He’s just like Kushina.”

Tsunade’s smile fades for a moment. She turns her gaze to Naruto, then back to Jiraiya. “Does he know—”

“No,” says Jiraiya, and his face pinches. “He doesn’t. And he can’t.”

Tsunade presses her lips together. She nods.

The villagers turn to look at the three of them as they pass. Most of their gazes slide away from them pretty quickly, but a few of their eyes linger on her slightly longer, some with curiosity and others with faint recognition.

By the time they’ve been in the village for five minutes, the whispering has started. Tsunade catches her name in the whispers, along with certain snatches of conversation.

“Tsunade Senju—”

“—one of the Sannin—”

“—death of the Sandaime—”

“Do you think—”

Tsunade ignores the outbreak of gossip. She focuses her gaze ahead.

“This friend of yours,” says Tsunade. “You said he was placed under genjutsu?”

Naruto turns his head to look at her. His face is pinched, as though recalling something painful. “He was beat up really badly too…”

“His physical injuries weren’t as extensive as they looked,” Jiraiya breaks in. “They’ll heal on their own. It’s the genjutsu that’s the issue.”

Tsunade nods. He and Naruto filled her in on the situation before she left. The genjutsu Jiraiya described to her certainly didn’t sound like an average illusion. “It’ll be difficult. Wounds of the mind are the trickiest to heal.”

“You’ll be able to do it, won’t you!?”

Tsunade glares at him. “Stop shouting, brat. I need to see exactly what was done to him first, and you’re not exactly giving me much to go on.”

Naruto huffs. “I already told you everything!”

“I know. And I told you, I need to see him.”

Naruto grumbles under his breath as he continues to lead the way to the hospital. Jiraiya spent the entire journey to find Tsunade talking about how talented she is, but personally, Naruto doesn’t see what’s so great about her.

She talked bad about Old Man Hokage, Naruto thinks, sending her a contemptuous look. And while he understands now that she’s grieving in her own way, he’s still not ready to forget what she said.

Plus, she insulted the Yondaime—Naruto's personal hero. No way he’s ever forgiving her for that.

“Naruto,” Jiraiya calls.

Naruto turns to look at him. He and Tsunade have stopped, their bodies angled toward something behind them.

Jiraiya looks at him with a half-grin, his head indicating something near the ground. “There’s a box following us.”

Naruto blinks, then stares. Sure enough, there’s a cardboard box just behind them on the path they’re on. It’s not moving now, but Naruto doesn’t doubt that it had been just a second ago.

“This again, seriously?” he exclaims. “I know it’s you, Konohamaru!”

The transformation technique ends in a puff of smoke. Konohamaru is left standing where the box used to be, his familiar goggles in place on his forehead. He’s alone today, without his Ninja Squad that usually follows him everywhere.

“Naruto-niichan!” he yells. “How did you know it was me?”

Warmth spreads through Naruto’s chest at the moniker, but he makes sure his expression stays irritated. “You need to get a new technique,” he tells him. “That one’s super old now.”

“Plus,” Jiraiya adds, amused, “boxes don’t usually move by themselves, kid.”

Konohamaru stomps on the ground in a childish fashion. “Foiled again,” he mutters. “You’re too good, Boss.”

Naruto grins. “And don’t forget it!”

Seeing Konohamaru sneaking around after him makes him smile. Last time he saw him was before he left the village with Jiraiya, after the Sandaime's death. Konohamaru was taking it pretty hard, so Naruto is happy to see him acting like his old self.

“How did you know I was back?” Naruto asks. “I only just got here.”

“Everyone who’s seen you is talking! They say that you and Jiraiya-ojisan came back with some lady, and that she’s going to be the Fifth Hokage!” Konohamaru turns to look up at Tsunade, his eyes narrowed. “Is that you, obaasan?”

Tsunade’s face becomes enraged. “Obaasan!?”

Naruto slaps his hand over his mouth quickly to restrain his loud burst of laughter. Jiraiya doesn’t bother.

“Careful now, Tsunade,” he says, chuckling at the woman's obvious fury. Her entire body is vibrating. “You can’t punch him, that’d be child abuse. Plus, he’s the Honorable Grandson.”

Jiraiya throws a wink in the young boy’s direction at the title. Konohamaru fumes. “That’s not my name! Don’t call me that!”

“So sorry,” says Jiraiya, his tone purposely goading. “Would you prefer Konohamaru-sama?”

Konohamaru kicks him in the shin.

The anger has dropped from Tsunade’s expression, replaced by a spark of recognition. “The Honorable Grandson?” she repeats. “You’re Kenta and Matsuki's son?”

Konohamaru pauses in another kick, this one aimed at Jiraiya’s groin. The man sighs in relief as the kid lowers his foot and turns away from him.

“You knew my mom and dad?” Konohamaru asks.

“I did,” says Tsunade. “We weren’t close friends, but I was sorry to hear of their passing. And I’m sorry about your grandfather. He was family to me, too.”

Jiraiya reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. Konohamaru stares at her for a moment, seeming to study her.

“Okay,” he decides after a moment. “You’re alright, I suppose. I guess you can be Hokage.”

Naruto gapes at his apprentice. What!? He totally wouldn’t say that if he heard what she said about Old Man Hokage earlier!

Tsunade smiles. “Thanks, kid,” she says. “You’re alright, too. Now if you don’t mind, we’ve got somewhere to be.”

Naruto shakes his head, his thoughts clearing and immediately refocusing. Right. Sasuke. His previous feeling of urgency returns instantly.

“We’ve got to get to the hospital,” says Naruto. “But keep practicing those jutsus, alright?”

Konohamaru grins. He holds out his fist for Naruto to bump. “You got it, Boss!”

Tsunade wasn’t expecting anything when she walked into the hospital, but Kakashi Hatake surprises her. She hadn’t been aware that the man was now a jounin-sensei; the last time she saw him, he was a teenager behind an ANBU mask.

“Tsunade-hime,” he greets her respectfully.

“Hatake,” she says back. Even with the mask covering most of his face, he still looks so much like his father, and she has to stop herself from grinding her teeth.

She turns her attention to the rest of the room. Sasuke Uchiha is laying on a hospital bed, his breathing slow and even. Deeply unconscious. In the chair next to the bed is a pink-haired girl, whom Tsunade assumes is the other member of their three-man squad.

The girl looks over to Naruto, then at Tsunade. Her eyes are tired but hopeful. “Naruto?”

“Hey, Sakura-chan,” says Naruto. His gaze drifts to Sasuke. “How's Sasuke?”

It’s Kakashi who answers. “He’s in a coma,” he explains. His voice doesn’t waver, but there’s a somber weight to it. “No one has been able to wake him.”

“Not surprising,” Jiraiya responds. “Have they been able to determine what was done to him?”

“Nothing more than what we already know.”

Tsunade walks past Kakashi and the young kunoichi, so she’s standing by the Uchiha's side. This close up, she can see the bruising at his jaw and around his throat. One of his arms is broken.

She considers healing the injuries, but decides that most of them are minor and will heal fine on their own. Still, the bruising on his throat is dark and awful-looking, and if she does succeed in waking him from his coma, it’ll hurt like hell for him to talk.

After a moment of hesitation, she brings her palms together to form the two seals. Ox. Tiger. Then she places her hand above the boy’s neck. She calls out to her chakra, pooling it into the pathways in her hand. A green glow appears beneath her fingers.

Behind her, she hears the girl—Sakura—gasp quietly. Everyone else is quiet. Slowly, the bruising fades, the imprint of Itachi Uchiha’s fingers disappearing. Tsunade lets the chakra at her fingertips dissipate, dropping her hand.

“Wow,” Sakura breathes, mesmerized. “That’s amazing. How does it work?”

Tsunade notes the tone of her voice with interest. Longing. Is she interested in being a medical ninja?

“A person’s body is made up of different chakra pathways,” Tsunade explains. “When the body is injured, those pathways become twisted and disrupted. By pushing my own chakra into the body, I’m able to mend those pathways and accelerate the natural healing process.”

“And that will heal Sasuke-kun's mind as well?”

Tsunade frowns down at the unconscious boy in front of her. She is a medic; she specializes in healing the body, not the mind. The brain is a muscle, and she can mend it like she can any other, but there are other forces at play with an injury like this.

“That’s difficult to say,” she admits. “Injuries like this are trickier, because there are psychological effects to consider as well. I can heal any physical damage done to him, but anything mental isn’t something that can be fixed so easily. I can heal the brain, but I can’t heal the mind.”

Sakura clasps her hands tightly in front of her; her bottom lip trembles. Naruto’s face is torn between worry and confusion, as he glances between Tsunade and his teammate.

“What’s the difference?” he asks. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

Kakashi sighs heavily, placing a hand on Naruto’s shoulder. “Not exactly, Naruto.”

Sakura looks at her with wide, pleading eyes. “But you’ll try, won’t you? Please, Tsunade-sama.”

Tsunade wants to protest at the form of address—she isn’t Hokage yet, she isn’t sure she even wants to be—but she gets caught in the raw emotion on the girl’s face. She’s so young, so desperate, so scared.

Tsunade remembers a time when she was like that.

She forms the seals again. Ox. Tiger. She exhales slowly, bringing up her palm to hover over Sasuke’s forehead. Chakra sparks in the veins of her hand, warms the tips of her fingers.

She closes her eyes and reaches out. Her chakra presses against the chakra pathways in his brain, maps them out, and she frowns when she gets a clear sense of how broken they feel. Twisted, and frayed, and smashed into fragments.

A less-experienced medic would have instinctively withdrawn. But Tsunade has been through a war, and she has seen worse damage. She frowns deeply, but she doesn’t pull away.

Something is disrupting his chakra pathways. It isn’t simply that they’ve been twisted, it’s that something is still twisting them. A force pressing against them, widening the fractures. She can’t heal the damage because the pressure that caused it is still there, still pressing against the fringes in his brain.

She recognizes the feeling immediately. She’s felt it before.

Sasuke Uchiha isn’t suffering the effects of a genjutsu. He’s still under a genjutsu.

Sasuke’s face twitches slightly, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids, but he doesn’t wake up. Mouth set in a hard line, Tsunade lets her hand fall back to her side.

“Fools,” she snaps. “Could none of you seriously recognize a genjutsu?”

All four of their faces are confused. Jiraiya shakes his head. “I told you he was placed under a genjutsu,” he says. “I don’t know what—”

“He wasn’t just placed under a genjutsu, you moron, he’s still under it!”

Kakashi’s uncovered eye widens. “What?”

She turns her gaze on him, eyes sharp. “The genjutsu Itachi placed on him. He’s still under it. The genin I can understand, but you’d think a high-level jounin would have recognized the signs.”

Kakashi doesn’t flinch at the harsh tone. He’s too busy processing the revelation that his student has been trapped in a nightmare realm for nearly a week now.

“What do you mean?” Naruto asks. His head bounces back and forth between the three adults in the room. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Sasuke?”

“Quiet, Naruto,” says Jiraiya. The words aren’t said harshly; he's simply laser-focused on Tsunade. “You’re telling me that that kid has been trapped in a genjutsu for nearly a week now? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I've seen genjutsus that have continued even when someone is no longer actively casting them, but this is something else. The amount of power it would require…”

Kakashi’s visible eye is like stone. “This is no ordinary genjutsu. Trust me, you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Tsunade studies the grave set to face, the hard line of his shoulders, and recalls what Jiraiya told her. That’s right. He experienced it, too.

Both of the genin look confused by the conversation. Only Kakashi seems to understand the gravity of what she’s saying.

“Break him out of it,” he snaps, in a tone like steel. He sounds every bit of the ANBU captain he used to be. “Break him out of it now.”

He sounds like Sakumo, and Tsunade feels herself react to it. The words that rise in her throat taste like poison.

“I tried. I attempted to disrupt his chakra flow when I tried to heal him, but it didn’t work. If you think you can do better, then be my guest.”

Kakashi’s lips seem to twist beneath his mask. Immediately, he pulls up his hitai-ate to expose his Sharingan. Eye whirling, he leans down toward Sasuke—

Jiraiya grabs him by the arm, yanking him back. “Hell no. Are you crazy?”

“I can use my Sharingan to get in his head. I can break the illusion—”

“Or get trapped inside it yourself! Did you forget what it did to you the first time!?”

“And what about what it’s doing to Sasuke!? You expect me to stand here—”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Naruto yells loudly. It has the desired effect; both Jiraiya and Kakashi go quiet. “What the hell are you two talking about and what’s going on with Sasuke!?”

Naruto’s standing next to the chair Sakura is sitting in, glaring at the three of them. He’s visibly angry, but that anger is only a thin mask for the fear that lies beneath it.

“You’re saying Sasuke-kun is under a genjutsu,” Sakura begins hesitantly. “But I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. Why can’t Kakashi-sensei just break him out of it?”

Kakashi sighs. He pulls his arm from Jiraiya’s grip and reluctantly slides his hitai-ate back over his eye. “This type of genjutsu is different. If he’s under the same one I was, Itachi told me it can only be broken by someone who shares the same blood.”

Jiraiya raises an eyebrow at him. “And yet, you were still going to try. Honestly, kid, I get that you’re worried, but stop and think next time. The last thing we need is for you to trap yourself in there with him.”

Kakashi bristles slightly. Whether it’s at Jiraiya calling him a kid or at his implication that he’s behaving thoughtlessly, Tsunade doesn’t know.

But Jiraiya is right. Kakashi is acting carelessly, without giving proper thought to his actions. From what Tsunade remembers of him as a teenager, this isn’t like him. He’s obviously extremely affected by the situation, because he’s not thinking as clearly as he usually would.

“Wait,” says Sakura. “You said the genjutsu could only be broken by someone who shares Itachi’s blood?”

“That’s what he said,” Kakashi responds. “Whether it’s true or not, I couldn’t tell you.”

“But if it is true… then couldn’t Sasuke-kun break the genjutsu himself?”

Tsunade sighs. “Theoretically, yes,” she says. “However, even if he does have the ability, I doubt he’s in any state of mind to attempt it.”

“But then who can?”

Tsunade shares a heavy look with Kakashi and Jiraiya. After a moment, Kakashi inclines his head, granting her permission to tell them.

“The only person who can break the illusion,” Tsunade answers, “is the one who cast it.”

Naruto’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean—”

“Itachi Uchiha. He’s the only one who can wake your friend up.”

Chapter Text

Tsunade stares down at the ceremonial hat she holds in her hands. Her stomach feels heavy, and she runs her fingers gently over the kanji embroidered on the front of it.

Hokage.

The sick feeling in her stomach intensifies. Her grip on the hat tightens.

“I don’t know if I’m the right person for this,” she confesses.

Gentle hands come up to cover hers. Tsunade lifts her head and looks into a kind face.

“Tsunade-hime,” Shizune says, “you’re the only person for this.”

Tsunade looks back down at the hat in her hands. Her sensei wore this hat. Her grandfather wore this hat.

“He’d be proud of you,” Shizune tells her. “They both would be. You can do this. You were meant to do this.”

Tsunade thinks about Sarutobi, standing tall against his own student to keep the village safe. She thinks about her grandfather, shoving a sword through his own friend's back to protect the dream they once shared.

She thinks about Dan, who left this world with his dream unfulfilled. Who believed in the possibility of peace, and had once made Tsunade believe in it as well.

A firm resolve settles between the spaces of her ribs. She places a hand over her heart, her fingers curling into a fist.

“You’re right,” she says. “I was meant to do this.”

Slowly, she reaches up to place the hat on her head. The veil falls artfully around her face. Shizune smiles, then bends into a bow.

“Congratulations,” she says, “Hokage-sama.”

Tsunade spins, her robes swishing at her feet. She exits the office she is standing in, climbing up onto the roof of the building. Jiraiya is standing there waiting for her, along with the two Elders, Koharu and Homura.

Tsunade walks by them briskly. Jiraiya grins and gives her a thumbs up as she passes.

She looks out at the village—her village—and at all the villagers gathered in the streets below her to witness her take her place. She looks at them, and she takes them all into her heart. Accepts them as her family, her children, as her sensei and grandfather did before her.

She takes the brim of the hat in her hands and whips it off, so all of Konohagakure can see her face.

“From this day forward,” she declares with a smile, “I am the ruler of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, the Fifth Hokage!”

The villagers clap and cheer for her. She sees Naruto in the crowd, along with Kakashi and Sakura. She sees people she used to know, before she fled the village and didn’t look back.

She sees Sarutobi’s grandson, clapping extra hard, cheering loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

Tsunade’s heart grows warm. In that moment, she accepts the Will of Fire into her own soul, vowing to foster that flame, and to carry it within her for as long as she shall live.

She turns her face around, to look at the Stone Monument just behind her. For the first time since arriving in the village, she lets herself look at the Sandaime’s Great Stone Face.

I promise you, Sensei, she vows, I’ll do you proud.

It’s been a day since Tsunade’s official inauguration, and Sakura finds herself once again walking home from the hospital. By now, the path has become so familiar to her that she could navigate it blindfolded.

She wonders how many more times she’ll have to walk it. How much longer she’ll have to bear it. For one horrifying moment, she sees her life stretch out before her, and Sasuke isn’t in it. She sees a life filled with endless hospital visits, holding the hand of a boy who is forever out of her reach.

That won’t happen, she tells herself, a nauseous feeling in her stomach. Kakashi-sensei’s going to find Itachi. He’s going to bring him back here and force him to fix this.

She thinks back to three days ago in that hospital room, after Tsunade and Jiraiya left. She remembers the warmth of Kakashi’s hands on her shoulders as he bent down to her level.

“It’ll be okay, Sakura,” he told her. “I’m going to fix it, I promise.”

Kakashi hasn’t broken a promise to her yet. He promised to keep them safe in the Land of Waves, and that’s exactly what he did. She believes he’ll keep this one as well.

But the problem with Kakashi keeping his promise is that he has to find Itachi Uchiha in order to do it. Sakura’s never met Sasuke’s brother—didn’t even know he existed until a week ago—but she’s seen Sasuke in the aftermath, and it paints a pretty clear picture of what he’s capable of.

She heard what he did to Kakashi before running into Sasuke. If Kakashi goes after him, what’s to stop him from doing the same thing again? Or worse, actually killing him this time?

She wants Sasuke to wake up. She wants them to be a team again. But Kakashi is a part of that team. She doesn’t want him to get hurt, and if he goes after Itachi, he definitely will be.

But if he doesn’t… if he doesn’t, then Sasuke will be trapped inside a nightmare forever.

Sakura sighs, stopping for a moment to pull herself together. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, twisting her hands into the fabric of her shorts.

When she opens them again, Naruto is standing less than an inch away from her. His face is pushed forward, his nose nearly touching hers as he stares at her with narrow eyes.

Sakura makes a noise that is definitely not a scream, leaping backwards with wide eyes. “Naruto! What the hell, you idiot!”

“Oh,” says Naruto. He straightens, and the narrow-eyed look is replaced with a smile. “Hey, Sakura-chan.”

“Hey?” she repeats incredulously. Resisting the strong urge to clonk him over the top of the head, she instead takes a deep breath. She presses a hand against her chest, where her heart is beating like a jackhammer. “What is wrong with you!? You scared me half to death, you jerk!”

“Sorry,” Naruto says. “I saw you just standing there. I thought you might be dead. Or sleepwalking.”

“Sleepwalking?” she echoes. She shakes her head, unable to unpack the huge amounts of idiocy in that comment. “Naruto, it’s three in the afternoon. And you just said that I was standing still.”

“Fine! Then I thought you might be sleep standing!”

Sakura rolls her eyes and steps around him to resume her walk. Naruto spins around and quickly falls into step beside her.

“Well, what were you doing just standing in the middle of the sidewalk with your eyes closed, then?”

Sakura feels herself grow slightly embarrassed, though she refuses to show it on her face. “I’m just coming back from visiting Sasuke-kun. I just got lost in my thoughts, that’s all.”

“Oh,” says Naruto, his voice strangely muted. Compared to his usual exuberance, his entire personality seems muted. Less loud than it usually is, less bright. “I was gonna go see him later. How is he?”

“The same,” Sakura answers, and Naruto’s face drops slightly. Sakura stares down at her feet as she walks. “He never answers, but… I keep talking to him. Telling him that I’m there.”

A small, confused frown forms on Naruto’s lips. “But then why talk to him? If he doesn’t answer?”

“I want him to know I’m there,” she explains. “And that I’m waiting for him to wake up. Kakashi-sensei told me that sometimes people in comas can hear what’s going on around them. If that’s true, then I want him to have something to focus on other than the nightmare he’s trapped in.”

She turns to find Naruto watching her, a strange expression on his face, and she blushes. She wonders how much of her feelings for Sasuke bled into her words—if Naruto can hear how much she yearns to have him open his eyes and look at her, for it to be her voice that draws him back, that wakes him up.

It’s a selfish thing to hope for. Sakura’s recently come to realize that a lot of things about her are selfish. She wants to change that about herself, but she doesn’t know how to start.

Naruto looks straight ahead, and his expression becomes resolved. “I’ll do that too, next time,” he says, and Sakura looks at him in surprise. “I’ll make sure he knows I’m there.”

There’s a brief silence between them, their feet brushing the concrete and the wind whistling by them, when Sakura speaks again.

“Has Kakashi-sensei said anything to you?” she asks. “About what he’s planning to do?”

“He said he was planning on visiting Tsunade-obaasan later,” Naruto answers. “He wouldn’t tell me what about, but it’s probably something to do with Sasuke.”

“You shouldn’t call Hokage-sama something so disrespectful,” Sakura chides. She frowns. “Do you think he’s going to ask permission to go after Sasuke-kun's brother?”

“Dunno. Probably. If he is the only one who can wake Sasuke up, then there’s no other option. He has to come back. He has to help Sasuke.”

Sakura bites her lip. “But he’s the one who did this to Sasuke-kun in the first place. Why would he help?”

“Because we’ll force him!” Naruto declares, teeth gritted and fists clenched. Sakura’s never seen this type of anger in him before; for a moment, she thinks she sees a hint of red in his eyes.

He really hates this Itachi guy, Sakura realizes.

After learning about who Itachi is, about what he did, it’s obvious that Naruto would hate him. It isn’t that Sakura isn’t just as angry as Naruto, because she is. But she’s never met Itachi Uchiha, so she can’t hate him the same way Naruto does. She doesn’t have a face to direct her rage at.

But Naruto does. Naruto was there when Sasuke and his brother fought—when Itachi destroyed him. Naruto saw it all.

Sakura looks at him hesitantly. She holds her words behind her teeth for a moment before she speaks them out loud.

“What was he like? Sasuke-kun’s brother?”

Naruto looks at her sharply, then turns his head forward again. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Cold,” he finally answers. Sakura waits, thinking he might elaborate, say more. He doesn’t.

They continue to walk. Sakura thinks about that name, running it in circles around her head. Itachi. It was familiar to her when Kakashi first mentioned it. Like a name you hear called on the street but quickly dismiss.

She knows she’s heard it somewhere before. Not from Kakashi. Not from Sasuke. From someone else. But where?

“Did Sasuke-kun ever mention his brother to you?” Sakura asks. “Did he ever talk about him?”

“Not—not really,” Naruto replies. “There was this one time—in the Land of Waves, after he jumped in front of me and nearly… he mentioned his brother then. He said he couldn’t die until he killed his brother. He told me…” Naruto’s face tightens, his blue eyes pained. “He told me to never give up on my dream.”

Sakura blinks as she listens to the words, her mind catching on part of them. “He jumped in front of you?”

Naruto looks at her. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah. When we were inside that ice prison—Haku was aiming at me. Sasuke… he saved my life.”

A week ago, Naruto never would have admitted something like that. Now, he just looks sad—sad and guilty.

“I never knew that,” Sakura says softly. She thinks about Sasuke and Naruto after that mission—the way they were towards each other. Snappish and antagonistic, more so than usual, unable to look each other in the eye. It makes sense now.

“I forgot about what he said,” Naruto continues. “Because—because I thought he was dead, and it didn’t matter to me. It wasn’t until Itachi showed up that I remembered.”

Sakura presses her lips together. “But you never heard the name Itachi?”

Naruto frowns at her. “No. Why?”

She shakes her head, asking herself, “But then where did I–?”

Realization strikes her, and she stops walking, her eyes widening.

(“You’re definitely his brother. If anything, your eyes are even keener than Itachi’s…”)

“Orochimaru,” she realizes.

Naruto blinks. “Huh?”

“Orochimaru,” Sakura repeats. “That day in the forest… he mentioned Itachi.”

Naruto’s eyebrows are furrowed in deep thought. He shakes his head. “I don’t remember that.”

“You were inside the snake.”

“Oh.” He shudders at the memory. “Right. Yuck.”

“Sasuke-kun nearly died then, too,” Sakura whispers. “That’s why I didn’t remember.”

“Sasuke really needs to stop almost dying,” says Naruto with a huff. “It’s starting to get real annoying.”

His tone is light, but Sakura can see the real concern in his eyes. She thinks about Sasuke in Wave Country, his lifeless body riddled with needles. She thinks about him in the Forest of Death, convulsing in pain from the mark on his shoulder.

She thinks about him on that hospital bed, and fear rises thick in her throat.

“I can’t lose him,” she says. “I can’t lose any of you.”

Naruto blinks at her, looking lost. His hands flutter around her awkwardly, as if he wants to hug her or place them on her shoulders, but eventually they drop back to his sides.

“You won’t lose us, Sakura-chan. Sasuke’s going to be fine. Kakashi-sensei’s going to bring back Itachi, and then he’ll wake up and it’ll all be okay again.”

Her eyes burn, but when she rubs at them, she’s grateful to find they’re without tears. “I’m sorry, Naruto,” she says. “I haven’t been the best teammate to you, have I?”

Naruto stares at her, looking almost stunned. “Sakura-chan…”

“But I’ll do better, I swear. I want to do better. I don’t want us to just be teammates. I want us to be friends.”

Naruto looks at her for a long moment. Then, a wide grin breaks across his face. “Don’t be silly, Sakura-chan,” he says. “We are friends.”

When Jiraiya spies Kakashi on his way to the Hokage’s office, Jiraiya follows him. He can’t fully explain why he does it; just some gut instinct that tells him he’s going to want to be present for the conversation.

Tsunade is sitting at her desk when the knock comes at the door. She looks up from her paperwork, setting down her pen. “Come in.”

Kakashi enters the room, closing the door behind him. Jiraiya settles himself on the sill of the window outside.

“Tsunade-sama.”

Tsunade’s face tightens when she recognizes her visitor. “Hatake. What is it?”

Kakashi looks at her levelly. “I’d congratulate you on your appointment, Hokage-sama, but it’s obvious we’d both rather get straight to the point. You know what I’m here for.”

“I do,” Tsunade replies. “And you know what my answer is already.”

She looks down, picking up her pen and returning to her paperwork. It’s a clear dismissal, but Kakashi doesn’t take it.

“Without Itachi, Sasuke doesn’t have a chance of getting better. He’s the only one who can break the genjutsu. You have to let me go after him.”

Tsunade didn’t look up. “I don’t have to do anything. Itachi’s taken you out before. Sending you after him by yourself would be a suicide mission.”

“Then don’t send me alone,” Kakashi argues. “Put together a team of jounin—”

“That would take up too many resources.”

“My student is trapped in a hellscape. Every second that goes by is another one that he suffers. I don’t care about resources.”

Tsunade’s head snaps up sharply. She slams her pen onto the desk with a loud sound.

“That’s exactly my point,” she snaps, and there’s real anger in her voice now. “Your judgment is blinded, Hatake. You’re too close to this. You can’t see the bigger picture.”

Kakashi seems to take a breath for a moment, to collect himself. When he speaks again, his voice is calmer. “And that picture would be?”

“That as harsh as it may seem, your value outweighs his. I want to save the kid as much as you, but I’m Hokage now, and I have to think about what would be best for this village. You’re too important of a resource to Konoha for me to risk losing.”

For a long moment, both of them are silent. Then Tsunade picks her pen back up, once again bending her head. “I’m sorry, Kakashi. But the answer is no.”

Kakashi’s visible eye is hard. The muscles in his jaw flex. He bows his head. “Hokage-sama,” he bids her, and the word sounds as if it was pulled forcefully from between his teeth.

He spins on his heel and exits the room.

That’s when Jiraiya enters, slipping in from the window and making himself known. “I’m disappointed in you, Tsunade.”

Tsunade shoots him a glare from her chair. “You’re not as sneaky as you think, you know. I knew you were there.”

Jiraiya steps further into the room, planting himself in front of her desk. “I know you did. Now what the hell was that about?”

Tsunade doesn't look at him. “What was what about?”

Jiraiya sighs. He thinks about a young blonde, sobbing over the bleeding body of her lover. Sobbing at her little brother's funeral. Two deaths that could’ve been prevented if the war ended sooner. If Konoha’s White Fang had only followed orders.

“Kakashi is not his father, Tsunade,” he tells her.

Tsunade tenses. Her grip on her pen tightens. “I know that.”

“Do you?” he asks. He raises an eyebrow at her. “If any other shinobi had made that request of you, you would’ve given them that mission.”

“That’s not true—”

“It is and you know it.”

Tsunade’s hand flexes, a muscle in her jaw jumping. Jiraiya sighs.

“I know you don’t know him well,” he says. “But I do. I practically watched that kid grow up. He’s one of the best shinobi I know. Don’t weigh something at his feet that isn’t his to bear.”

Tsunade is tense for a moment. Then she sighs, slumping slightly. “He just looks so much like him,” she admits.

“I know,” Jiraiya responds. He leans forward, places his hands on the desk. “Look, I understand your reluctance to send him. Itachi is stronger than him. But we can’t hang Sasuke out to dry. We need Itachi.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Send me with him,” Jiraiya suggests. “I can watch his back, and we can retrieve Itachi—”

“Or he’ll kill both of you!”

“Itachi retreated when he saw me at the hotel,” Jiraiya argues. “He’ll want to avoid fighting me, he knows I’m stronger.”

“The fact that you’re stronger won’t matter,” Tsunade says sharply. “He’ll still have the upper-hand. You’re trying to capture him—”

“You don’t need to tell me the risks. I already know them.”

“If you attempt to take him alive,” she continues, ignoring him, “then he will come at you with the full intent to kill. You’ll be fighting with a handicap. He won’t be.”

Jiraiya grins. “Then I guess I better make some crutches.”

“Dammit, Jiraiya, I’m serious! This is not some low-level criminal we’re talking about here, it’s Itachi Uchiha. That kid slaughtered the entire Police Force by himself—”

“I know what he’s capable of,” Jiraiya tells her calmly. “I read the reports. And even without them, Sasuke is proof enough. I’m not an idiot, Tsunade, I know what I’d be facing.”

Tsunade looks at him for a long moment. Finally, she sighs, cracking a small smile. “I don’t know about that. You’re definitely an idiot.”

Jiraiya matches her smile with one of his one. He reaches out to cover her hand with his. She looks up at him.

“I’ll be okay, Tsuna. Kakashi will watch my back, and I’ll watch his. Let me do this.”

She glares at him, though there’s no real anger in her expression. “Don’t call me that. Only my grandfather called me that.” She pauses, sighing, then says, “Okay, I’ll sanction the mission. The two of you can head out tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tsunade replies. “Just don’t die. Either of you.”

Chapter Text

The answer is no.

Kakashi sits in that same chair in the hospital room, his elbows resting on his knees. He stares at his student, still in the bed in front of him, and his jaw clenches as the words run through his head.

Your value outweighs his.

From a tactical standpoint, it makes sense. And when he forces himself to think about it impersonally, he even agrees with it. He’s a former member of ANBU Black Ops; he understands the harsh reality of shinobi life. That they exist in order to act as tools—and that some tools are more useful than others.

As a resource to the village, Sasuke has the potential to become very valuable. But he is still just a child. War is on the horizon, all of them can feel it. And Tsunade can’t afford to think about in another ten years, she needs to think about now.

Kakashi understands the need for that type of mindset. And was Tsunade’s decision a strategic one, Kakashi might’ve forgiven her for it. But instead, she made it personal.

This isn’t about strategy. Isn’t about resources. This is about Sakumo.

Kakashi isn’t oblivious to Tsunade’s dislike of Sakumo, nor to how that dislike extends to him. For the most part, he doesn’t let it bother him; she has her reasons, and after two decades, Kakashi is far too used to being blamed for his father’s mistakes.

(Far too used to people calling them mistakes to waste any time trying to convince people they weren’t.)

Let them despise him. Let them shun him. They can call him his father’s son, and he will wear the accusation with pride. Because the angry boy who once spoke Sakumo’s name with shame is now proud to share his blood.

But receiving the blowback of his father’s actions himself is something he’s learned to accept; it’s another thing entirely when someone else is being caught in them. If the only one affected is him, then let Tsunade hate his father as much as she wants; but now it is Sasuke whom her grudge is affecting, and that isn’t something he can accept.

None of this is his fault, Kakashi thinks, hands clenching under his chin as he stares down at his student's closed eyes. You’re allowing his suffering to continue because of a piece of history he has no part in.

Kakashi is a Konoha shinobi at heart. He exists for the Hokage to command, and should she order him to die, then he will walk to his death. But this is one order that he doesn’t think he can follow.

How can he? How can he, when he promised…

(“Don’t worry, Sasuke. I’ll protect you with my life.”)

Kakashi presses his mouth into a tight line, staring down at Sasuke’s face. He’s so still, not a hint of the mental torture he’s currently experiencing showing in his expression. Kakashi recalls feeling Sasuke’s fingers twitch just a few days ago, and he’s beginning to think he imagined it.

Kakashi tries to imagine the nightmare that the kid must be living in at this very moment, the battle going on behind his eyes that only he can see, and he experiences the same level of horror he felt when Tsunade first told him. He doesn’t quite understand how Sasuke can still be trapped in a genjutsu without Itachi present to hold the illusion in place, but it obviously isn’t a normal genjutsu; it doesn’t abide by the same rules. He wonders how time is working in Sasuke’s head; if it’s been the same amount of time in there as it’s been out here, or if the seconds are passing infinitely slower.

He hopes to God it isn’t the same for Sasuke as it was for him. Three days in a single moment. Because if it is, then Sasuke's a lost cause; death would be a mercy.

But no. Kakashi can’t let himself consider that. Tsunade tried to heal his mind, after all; surely she’d be able to tell if his mind felt that broken.

He hates just sitting here. He hates being so helpless. His student is being tortured, and all he can do is sit here and stare at him.

Screw that, Kakashi decides.

It’s a bad idea. Jiraiya already warned him against it. But Tsunade just shot down his best hope, and he’s desperate. If there’s even a slight chance of breaking his student free of Itachi’s grasp, then any risk is worth it.

He moves from the chair, kneeling on the floor by Sasuke’s bed. This close, he can see a faint scar he never noticed before, a slight line on his upper lip. It must be years old.

He reaches around his head and pulls up his hitai-ate. Obito's Sharingan, forever blazing, focuses on Sasuke immediately. With his hand, he gently pulls up one of Sasuke’s eyelids.

The hospital room falls away, replaced by a world of black, white, and red. It’s just like the dream-world Itachi placed him in, only instead of tied to a post, he finds himself standing in the middle of a street.

A familiar street. He’s standing in the Uchiha district.

The smell hits him first, even before the screams. The pungent, metallic scent of blood. It takes him back years, to waking up next to Rin's body, a sea of blood surrounding him.

It’s incredibly vivid and incredibly well-crafted. Usually sight and sound are enough to convince a person that the illusion is real; most genjutsus don’t bother with smell.

The screaming reaches him next, and he knows what this is. He knows before he sees the bodies falling, the blood splashing through the air, the weapons flying. He knows.

He watches as an image of Itachi brings his katana down on a screaming woman’s throat, and he thinks he might be sick. Sasuke isn’t just trapped in a nightmare, he’s trapped in a memory.

Kakashi tries to dispel it the normal way. Tries to grab onto the illusion and wrench it apart, but he can’t get a grip on it. He can’t even touch it.

He searches for Sasuke, trying to block out the screaming, even as the illusion tries to drag him in. It’s too bright, too real, and Kakashi fights to remember that he’s kneeling on a hospital floor, that there’s linoleum beneath his knees, not blood beneath his shoes.

Itachi’s voice rings through the dreamscape. It comes from nowhere, from everywhere.

“Run, run… Cling to your wretched life. Then one day, when you have the same eyes, come back and face me!”

The landscape warps and changes. Now he’s standing in a bedroom. A man and woman are kneeling as Itachi brings his sword down on their necks. Kakashi turns away before the blow lands, breathing sharply.

This isn’t real. None of this is real. Find Sasuke.

Sasuke is easy to spot now, and the sight of him breaks Kakashi’s heart. He looks the same age he was when this happened, and he’s curled himself into a ball in the corner. His face is buried in his knees, his hands pressed over his ears. When Kakashi walks over to him, he doesn’t react.

He’s so young and so scared, and for a moment, Kakashi can’t connect the child in front of him with his student, because Sasuke's never looked so fragile. For all the trauma that he’s been through, Sasuke's never once shown it, and the boy in front of him now looks less like his student and more like a stranger.

Behind him, there’s a loud thud as two bodies topple to the floor. Blood seems to melt from the walls. Kakashi forces himself to ignore it, even as he chokes on the iron in the air.

“Sasuke,” he says. Then again, more insistent, “Sasuke.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond. Kakashi reaches out slowly, placing his hand on the child’s knee. Sasuke flinches with his whole body, jerking back and slamming his head against the wall. A whimper escapes his lips, and Kakashi spots the glint of tears on his cheeks.

“Foolish little brother—”

The walls begin to melt away. Growing desperate, Kakashi grabs Sasuke by the shoulders.

“Sasuke! Sasuke, it’s Kakashi. I need you to hear me—”

“—you’re not even worth killing.”

The walls are replaced by the streets again, thick with blood and bodies. Screams fill the air, loud and sharp and terrified, all of them pleading for mercy, and Kakashi head spins with a panic that makes it hard to breathe—

“Sasuke—Sasuke, look at me—”

“Run, run… Cling to your wretched life.”

“Sasuke, it’s a genjutsu. It’s all in your head—”

“…one day, when you have the same eyes—”

“It isn’t real—"

Something seems to wrench him away, his entire body suddenly yanked. The screams and bodies and blood disappear abruptly, and he’s staring into a familiar face, hands tight on his shoulders. The floor is hard beneath his knees.

“—are you thinking? I told you not to do that!”

He blinks, screams still echoing in his ears. The face in front of him sharpens as it comes into focus.

“Should’ve known you’d try it anyway,” Jiraiya says. “You dumbass. You almost got trapped in there, didn’t you? I told you that you would.”

Kakashi sits there for a moment, gathering himself. The walls and ceiling and floor are white. The air conditioner is making a steady humming noise somewhere to his left. The room smells sharply of antiseptic.

He blinks a few times, his vision tinted the color of blood. His eye is burning in his head, and he realizes his Sharingan is still uncovered, rapidly draining his chakra. He quickly pulls his hitai-ate down.

“Are you alright?” Jiraiya asks.

The remnants of the illusion are still clinging to the fringes of his mind. It takes him a moment to focus. When he does, his gaze goes to Sasuke. His eyes are still closed; he appears to be sleeping peacefully.

Kakashi recalls the vivid image of his student, seven years old and curled up in a ball, and he feels sick. How can he look so calm, laying on that bed?

“Kakashi,” Jiraiya prompts, frowning.

Kakashi pulls his gaze from the bed to look at him. “The massacre,” he says. “That’s what he’s seeing. That’s what he’s stuck in.”

Jiraiya’s quiet for a moment. “Aw shit,” he finally sighs, and the words carry a heavy weight to them. “That’s just… fucking hell. Remind me to punch Itachi extra hard when we find him, would you?”

Kakashi stands up, and he’s still not fully there, so the words take a moment to process. He shakes his head, trying to rid his nose of the scent of blood. Itachi’s voice echoes in his head, cold and cruel.

“What?” he asks in surprise, once the sentence finally registers. “When we find him?”

“I talked with Tsunade. She’s going to authorize you to go after him, but I’m coming along.”

Kakashi blinks. He wonders what could have changed her mind, but so long as she did, he honestly doesn’t care. He thinks back to that small child in the corner, and his breath escapes him shakily, his chest tight.

“When do we leave?” he asks.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jiraiya tells him. “I hope you have an idea where to start looking, because I’ve got nothing.”

“I do,” Kakashi assures him.

He turns back to Sasuke’s prone form, remembering the illusion he just saw, and it feels like a hand has wrapped around his lungs, squeezing. Gently, he brushes a strand of hair from the boy’s face.

I’m going to get you out of there, Sasuke. I swear.

Chapter Text

“Naruto? Are you alright?”

Naruto blinks, looking up from the spot of the countertop he’s been staring at. “Huh?”

Iruka-sensei is looking at him with a concerned expression. So lost in his head, it takes a moment for the question to register.

“I asked if you were alright,” the teacher repeats. He’s frowning, peering at Naruto closely. “You’ve been staring down at that bowl of ramen for nearly five minutes now. You’ve barely eaten any.”

He stares down at the noodles in front of him, poking them with his chopsticks. It looks delicious, but the thought of eating it makes him feel queasy.

“Just not hungry, I guess.”

Iruka's expression quickly goes from concerned to alarmed. “Okay, now I know something is wrong.” He pauses, then guesses, “Is it Sasuke?”

Naruto grinds his teeth. He jabs at his ramen with more force than before.

Iruka sighs, his face softening with sympathy. “I know you’re worried about him,” he says. “I am, too. But there’s nothing—”

“Do you know what his brother did to him?” Naruto interrupts, anger in his voice. He turns on his stool to look at the chuunin, slapping his chopsticks onto the countertop.

Iruka's expression doesn’t flinch. “I saw him in the hospital,” he says softly.

Naruto’s hands are shaking. It isn’t enough, because those few bruises on Sasuke’s skin don’t come anywhere close to explaining what actually happened to him in that hotel.

“He was screaming,” Naruto whispers, and the memory makes him see red. “Sensei, he just started screaming…”

Naruto doesn’t know how to explain it—doesn’t know how to put into words how brutal it was, how horrifying it felt. Itachi Uchiha…

He shakes his head, clenching his fists as he looks at his old teacher. “What kind of person does something like that?”

Iruka-sensei's eyes are sad. “I don’t know, Naruto.”

Naruto remembers cold eyes and an indifferent expression, the sound of bone snapping. You’re in the way. What he said to Sakura yesterday comes back to him.

(“What was he like?”

“…Cold.”)

“Did you know him?” Naruto asks. “Itachi?”

Iruka shakes his head. “Only by reputation. And he picked Sasuke up from the Academy a few times. But I never actually met him.”

Naruto blinks in surprise. “He did? Really?”

Naruto casts his mind back over five years, to sitting on that swing and watching his classmates with their families. But he doesn’t recall who Sasuke walked home with. Naruto didn’t start paying attention to him until after the massacre.

He wonders what the two of them were like back then. Was Itachi always so cruel? Had there been a time when Sasuke loved him?

Naruto stares down at the ramen in his bowl, twisting it around his chopsticks but never bringing them to his mouth.

“It’s my fault,” he admits.

“Your fault?” Iruka repeats in surprise. “What is? Sasuke? How could that possibly be your fault?”

“They were after me,” Naruto says. “After what’s inside me. That’s why Sasuke came. To protect me from his brother.”

Alarm flashes across Iruka’s face at the news that they were after the Kyuubi. “They were after you?”

Naruto winces slightly, wondering if that was something he wasn’t supposed to share. Oops.

“Um,” he says. “Yes.”

Iruka struggles to collect himself. “Okay, but that… that doesn’t make it your fault. Even if Itachi hadn’t been after you, Sasuke would’ve run after him anyway. It would’ve ended the same way.”

Naruto looks down at his food, finally slurping some of his noodles. It’s probably the truth, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

Stupid Sasuke, he thinks. Always saving me. Who does he think he is?

“You should listen to him,” a familiar voice says.

Naruto turns around. Kakashi stands slightly behind him. He's sporting his usual slumped posture, hands tucked deep into his pockets.

“Sasuke’s one goal in life is to kill his brother,” Kakashi continues, coming around to stand on Naruto’s left. He leans his hip against the counter of the ramen stand. “Maybe he did run after Itachi to protect you. But from what you described to me, Sasuke was running on blind rage. Even if you hadn’t been there, he still would’ve attacked.”

Naruto looks down, remembers how Sasuke rushed into that hallway. Remembers the furious look he gave Naruto when he tried to help. Don’t butt in! Mind your own business! Maybe Sasuke did run after Itachi to protect Naruto. But when he activated that Chidori, he was aiming to kill. Fighting to avenge, not to defend.

(“I’ve waited my whole life for this day… this moment. This fight is mine!”)

No. Sasuke wasn’t fighting for Naruto. Not then.

He was fighting to prove himself.

“Listen to your teacher,” Kakashi says. “It wasn’t about you. Don’t blame yourself.”

Naruto nods, recalling the way Sasuke kept getting up. Over and over again. Trying to make his brother look at him—to see him. He thinks he gets it now.

“You’re right,” he says. “It wasn’t about me.”

Maybe it was at first, when Sasuke first charged after him. But that changed the moment he saw Itachi’s face in that hallway.

Naruto looks up at Kakashi, the memory still bright behind his eyes. “We’re doing something, right?” he asks. “We’re going after him?”

“We are not doing anything. Itachi came here to capture you. Now you want to go looking for him? You’d be handing yourself right over to the Akatsuki.”

It takes Naruto a moment to place the name. Right. That’s who Itachi and that other guy said they worked for.

Naruto won’t lie and say it doesn’t scare him. If the rest of these Akatsuki guys are as powerful as Itachi and his partner, then Naruto doesn’t stand a chance. The thought terrifies him.

But he has to do everything he can to help Sasuke. He can’t let him keep suffering like this.

Kakashi seems to remember that Iruka’s sitting there, because his eye widens slightly, his posture straightening.

“You weren’t really supposed to hear that…” He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “If you could just forget that last thing I said…”

“It’s fine,” says Naruto. “I already told him.”

“You what? Naruto!”

“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to!”

“It’s fine,” Iruka-sensei says, raising his hands. “I didn’t hear anything. In fact, I just remembered I have somewhere to be.” He reaches over to ruffle Naruto’s hair. “Hope you feel better, Naruto.”

He stands from the stool, leaving Naruto and Kakashi alone to speak freely. Naruto turns back to the jounin, picking the conversation back up immediately.

“But what about Sasuke? If Itachi’s the only one—"

Kakashi holds up a hand to silence him. “That’s why I’m here,” he says. “Tsunade-sama's sanctioned the mission to go after Itachi. I came to tell you I’m leaving.”

Naruto jolts in his chair at the news. “You’re going after him, really?!” He pushes himself eagerly from the stool. “Let me go with you—”

“Did you listen to nothing I just said?” Kakashi asks. “I’m not taking you right to the people who want to capture you. Use your brain, Naruto.”

Naruto feels indignant at the words. “Hey!” he yells. “You’re the one being stupid! Or did you forget how quickly Itachi took you out last time? Yeah, I heard about that!”

“That’s exactly my point,” Kakashi responds, not missing a beat. “This is already going to be extremely dangerous. If you came along, I’d have to worry about protecting you, and I can’t have my focus split like that. You understand?”

Naruto clenches his teeth, because yes, he understands, and he hates that he does. He doesn’t want Kakashi to be right. He wants to go with him. But as much as he wants to punch Itachi in the face, he’s not stupid enough to believe he stands a chance against him.

But apparently, neither does Kakashi. Naruto doesn’t know the exact details of the fight, but apparently Itachi dropped him hard last time. Which was a shock to hear, because Kakashi-sensei’s always seemed so powerful.

“But what about you?” he asks. “You can’t go after him alone! He could kill you!”

“Who said I was going alone?”

Naruto blinks, confused. “Huh? But you just said—"

“I said I didn’t want you coming because I don’t want to worry about protecting you. I never said I was going by myself. Jiraiya’s agreed to come with me on this one.”

“Pervy Sage?” he exclaims in surprise. Amusement flickers through Kakashi’s eye, and he nods.

Recalling how quickly Itachi and Kisame fled once Jiraiya showed up, Naruto finds himself very reassured. He also recalls what Jiraiya said later about taking on Itachi and Kisame—not without destroying myself—but that was when he was fighting alone. With Kakashi backing him up, surely the two of them would hold the advantage.

“Well, okay, if Pervy Sage is going with you. Itachi seemed pretty intimidated by him, because he left pretty fast once he showed up…”

But not before taking the time to give Sasuke a beating, Naruto thinks, anger surging just beneath his skin. Remembering the way Itachi turned to look at his brother, as Sasuke stood and faced him with blood-red eyes.

(This fight is mine, Sasuke had declared.

Itachi had sighed, clearly only humoring him. Very well.)

Naruto turns his attention back to his sensei. “You’re leaving right now? Do you even know where he is?”

Kakashi hesitates before he answers. “There have been reports of Kisame in Iwagakure. Itachi hasn’t been sighted, but he’s not as notorious as Kisame is. From what little we know of the Akatsuki, they seem to always travel in pairs. They’ve most likely moved on by now, but if they were there, it’ll have been recent enough that my ninken will be able to pick up their scent.”

Naruto takes in this information. He frowns as he recalls Pakkun following Sasuke's scent through the forest. “They can do that?” Naruto asks. “I thought they had to be familiar with a scent or something like that…”

“They’re familiar with Itachi’s,” Kakashi says shortly. Naruto opens his mouth, but the jounin quickly holds up a hand, interrupting, “No, I can’t tell you how, don’t ask me.”

Naruto huffs, crossing his arms, but he recognizes the tone of Kakashi’s voice. It’s the tone he gets when something is Off Limits, and no amount of prying is going to loosen his lips.

“Fine, fine. Have you told Sakura-chan? She’s been worried about you a lot.”

“I have,” Kakashi replies. “Just before I came here.” His eye curves up in a smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

Naruto feels himself flush in embarrassment at how easily the man saw through him. “I said she was worried about you, not that I was!”

“Of course, of course.” Kakashi’s visible eye is amused. “Well, tell her, then.”

He gives Naruto a farewell wave, and then he’s gone in a gust of wind and leaves.

After saying goodbye to his students (an unconscious Sasuke included), Kakashi meets Jiraiya at the village entrance.

“Ready to go?” the Sennin asks.

“Ready,” Kakashi replies.

And he is. He won’t lie and say he’s not apprehensive about confronting Itachi, especially so soon after last time—he still can’t close his eyes without finding himself back in that red and white dreamscape, a sword being pushed into his gut—but after what he saw yesterday, his own fear is irrelevant.

Seeing inside Sasuke’s mind, witnessing the torture he’s currently experiencing… it filled him with a cold resolve. That resolve fills him now, chasing away any reluctance he feels.

Seeing Sasuke so vulnerable left him shaken. Over twelve hours later, the image of that helpless child still clings to his mind. Of that seven-year-old boy, curled up in a corner with his face buried in his knees.

He’s unable to forget it. He doubts he ever will.

Jiraiya must see some of these thoughts reflected on his face, because the corner of his mouth pulls down. “I know you’re angry. And you have every right to be. But we can’t rush onto this. You have to keep your head.”

Despite knowing Jiraiya is only being cautious, Kakashi can’t help feeling as if the words are a slight to his skills as a ninja. He tries not to feel too offended.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. “I know how keep my emotions separate from the mission.”

He wouldn’t have lasted ten years in ANBU if he didn’t.

“I know you do,” Jiraiya responds. “I’m not contesting your capability. But I know how much you care about that kid.”

Kakashi looks at Jiraiya a bit sharply. It’s an astute observation, considering how little interaction the two of them have had recently. “Is it that obvious?”

Jiraiya’s face becomes less serious, a hint of a smile curving his mouth. “I don’t see you care about much. It’s hard not to notice when you do.”

Kakashi doesn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he turns away, back toward the gates. “Let’s get going. If we make haste, we should be able to make it to Iwagakure in two—”

“ETERNAL RIVAL!”

Kakashi and Jiraiya both freeze. Kakashi watches Jiraiya’s face drop, even as he groans internally. Behind him, there’s the sound of someone landing loudly on their feet.

Maybe if I pretend he’s not there, Kakashi thinks hopefully, then he’ll go away.

“My soul is crying out!” Gai yells passionately. “For I was just given the most shocking of news! Tell me it isn’t true!”

Kakashi sighs. Slowly, he turns to face Gai. He doesn’t waste time playing head games with his rival; he wants to leave now, which means quickly powering through this unwanted conversation.

“If you’re talking about me going after Itachi, then yes. It’s true. And I’m in quite a hurry, Gai.”

“But you can’t!” Gai protests. “After before—you still haven’t completely recovered!”

Jiraiya cuts him a sharp look when he hears this, and Kakashi grinds his teeth, resisting the urge to glare at the green-clad man. “I’m fine. And I’ve got Jiraiya with me. How did you even find out?”

“I went to see Lee at the hospital!” Gai explains. “Your student was there visiting him, and she told me when I asked about you! Since you didn’t tell me—"

Kakashi sighs. Sakura. He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Look, Gai,” he attempts to explain. “I would have told you. But I knew you would only try to stop me—”

“You can bet I would have!”

“—and I have to do this,” he says. He looks Gai in the eyes, allows him to see the resolve in his gaze. “I have to do everything in my power to wake him up. I know you can understand that.”

Gai watches him, slightly more subdued than before. “At least allow me to come with you!” he says.

Jiraiya shakes his head before Kakashi can refuse him. “Absolutely not,” he says. “We’re going for subtlety here.”

“I can be subtle!” Gai yells.

Jiraiya raises his eyebrows, as if to say, case in point. Kakashi sighs.

“I need you here,” he says. “I need you to look after my students while I’m gone.”

Gai doesn’t like it. It’s obvious he doesn’t like it. But with a reluctant sigh, he acquiesces. “Fine. But I’m still irritated you didn’t tell me!”

“Great,” says Jiraiya, voice laden with sarcasm. “Can we head out, now?”

“Yeah,” Kakashi replies, “We can head out.” He turns toward the gate, then looks at Gai one last time before he crosses through it with the Sannin. “I’ll see you soon, Gai.”

Gai looks at him, uncharacteristically serious. “Be careful, Kakashi.”

Kakashi’s eye curves up in an expression meant to be reassuring. “I always am.”

As he and Jiraiya both use a shunshin to flicker away, Kakashi hears Gai’s last words, carried to him on the wind. The man's voice is heavy with worry.

“If only that were true…”

Chapter Text

“We should wait until the girl leaves,” Kidōmaru says. “We can sneak in and grab Sasuke then.”

Tayuya feels a burst of irritation toward her teammate. Her hands tighten on the rail in front of her, staring down at the hospital window below them. Inside, a pink-haired kunoichi is sitting by Sasuke Uchiha’s bedside.

“She’s just some stupid girl,” she snaps. “Even Jirōbō could take her out.”

“Thanks,” Jirōbō says in his deep voice. Then he seems to realize he’s being insulted, because he scowls. “Hey.”

“Orochimaru-sama said no witnesses,” Kidōmaru reminds her. His tone is a shade disapproving, and Tayuya feels her temper flare in response.

“I know that, shithead,” she snarls. “But the damn bitch isn’t moving. We’ll be sitting here all day if we wait for her to leave.”

“Tayuya,” Jirōbō says with a frown, drawing her name out slowly. “Women really shouldn’t use words like that. Especially to describe other women.”

Tayuya snaps her teeth, not looking at him. “Shut up, fat ass.”

Beside her, a familiar laugh rings out. Either Sakon or Ukon. She can never tell which; their laughs sound exactly the same.

“But Jirōbō,” one of them says, and she can tell that it’s Sakon now by the condescending tone. “That would imply that Tayuya is an actual girl, which we all know she’s never been—”

Tayuya sees red. She snaps her head toward her conjoined teammate, her eyes flashing. “Shut up, you piece of shit!”

He just cackles, and she whips her head away, her bottom lip curling. Sometimes, Tayuya wonders if she’s the only one of her teammates with an actual working brain.

Her and Kimimaro, of course, but his death is quickly approaching. Ukon and Sakon have already started calling them the Sound Four instead of the Sound Five.

“Tayuya's right,” Sakon tells Kidōmaru. “Let’s just kill the girl and grab the Uchiha brat. I can do it myself. Ukon's running low on patience, and you know how he can get.”

Tayuya looks over her shoulder at the other half of Sakon's body. But Ukon’s face is tilted down, shadowed completely by his hair.

“Besides,” Sakon continues, and his turquoise lips curve into a smile, “I’m the leader, so all of you have to do what I say.”

Tayuya feels indignant anger burst inside her at the claim. “What? You’re the leader? When the fuck did we make that decision, because I definitely wasn’t there!”

“Kimimaro is dying,” Sakon says. “He has weeks left, maybe less. It falls to the strongest of us to take his place—”

“And you think you’re the strongest!?”

“It certainly isn’t you,” he replies, lips twisting. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the way I shoved your face into the dirt inside that gladiator ring.”

Tayuya feels herself flush with a combination of anger and humiliation. “Shut your mouth! I’ll cut out your fucking tongue!”

She will never forget the shame of that moment—surrounded by the dozens of other prisoners as Sakon pressed her face against the ground. The gravel had been rough against her face, and she had choked on the dirt in her mouth; Sakon's breath had been hot against her ear as he had pinned her body beneath his, whispering, I win.

Orochimaru-sama saved her from that hell. She gave up everything to leave that place behind and gain the power he promised her—even her own freedom.

If Sasuke Uchiha is smart, he’ll do the same.

“Both of you be quiet,” Kidōmaru says, casting them a chiding glance. “Security is lax, not nonexistent. You’ll give us away.”

“All the more reason why we should just grab the kid and go,” she snaps. “Kill the girl, knock her out, it doesn’t matter. We’ve been standing here way too goddamned long.”

“I agree with them, Kidōmaru,” Jirōbō tells him. “Let’s just kill the girl, grab the kid, and get out of here.”

Kidōmaru’s lips become thin, but Tayuya sees the moment he reluctantly acquiesces. “Fine. But we’ll wait a few more minutes. It looks like she might be leaving…”

Sakura holds Sasuke’s hand as she sits next to him. In the week that he’s been here, he hasn’t moved at all, and Sakura’s heart breaks every time she looks at him.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here, but it’s long enough that her throat has begun to tire from speaking for so long. Her muscles begin to cramp, and her grip on Sasuke’s hand grows uncomfortable and sweaty. Her parents are probably looking for her.

Still, she's reluctant to leave. She doesn’t want to leave him alone.

She knows that it’s silly and childish. That there’s no way he can know that she’s there. But it’s comforting to her to imagine that he does know; that somewhere beneath the genjutsu, he can sense her presence.

Maybe he’s clinging to her voice right now, struggling to drag himself out. It’s a foolish hope, but it keeps her talking to him, even after she’s run out of things to say.

“And Kakashi-sensei left this morning,” she continues to speak to him. “Though he told me he came to see you, so I guess you already knew that.”

She stares down at her thumb against the back of his hand. Her hand fits in his so easily, as if it’s meant to be there. For some reason, this thought causes her to blink back tears.

She moves her gaze from their hands to his face. Her eyes trace his features, lingering on his closed eyelids. There’s a small scar on his upper lip, a faint line that looks years old. She wonders how she didn’t notice it until now.

What’s it from? she wonders, resisting the urge to reach over and trace it with her finger. She wishes more than anything that she could ask him.

It’s just a small scar, completely inconsequential, but to her it’s just a reminder that she hardly knows anything about him. That she never made any effort to try.

And now, she might never get the chance.

Don’t think like that, she chides herself, forcing away the sharp spike of fear in her chest. Kakashi-sensei’s going to find Itachi. He’s going to fix this. He promised.

Sakura sighs and reluctantly pulls her hand away. She stands from the chair, her muscles slightly sore from not moving for so long. She stares down at Sasuke for one last moment and wonders what he’s seeing—wonders what horrors his brother’s genjutsu are showing him.

“We’re going to wake you up, Sasuke-kun,” she says. “Just hold on a little longer.”

She struggles to pull away, to take those final steps out of the room. A sudden knock causes her to finally pull her gaze away from Sasuke, turning it to the door.

“Ino,” Sakura says. She quickly gets over her surprise, moving closer to Sasuke’s side and grabbing his hand again. Her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here?”

Ino steps into the room cautiously. She looks as pretty as she always does, which serves to irritate Sakura. She knows how worn and tired she must look in comparison.

It makes her hate Ino more than she already does. Sakura’s world is falling apart, and Ino still looks perfect.

“How is Sasuke-kun?” she asks. “Asuma-sensei told us he’s in a coma. Is it true that there’s nothing being done?”

Sakura feels her heart constrict painfully. She tightens her grip on Sasuke’s hand possessively, her gaze steely. “Do you care?”

She knows she’s being a bit unfair. Ino did ask her about Sasuke a few days ago, and she sounded genuinely worried. She sounds worried now, too. But she also looks so unaffected. She’s perfectly put together where Sakura is falling apart, and it makes Sakura feel weak. It makes her feel like she’s losing.

After their match during the preliminaries, she thought she was done losing to Ino. She thought she was done feeling lesser than her.

“Of course I care!” Ino yells. Her expression twists into something more familiar as she glares. “You’re not the only one who cares about Sasuke-kun, Forehead Girl!”

Sakura feels herself go red. “Shut up, Ino-pig!” she snaps. It’s so easy to fall back into their old pattern. As if their match during the Chuunin Exams never happened. “It’s been over a week! And you’re only coming to see him now?!”

Ino opens her mouth to snipe back at her, but then she pauses. Something flickers in her eyes, and she sighs, the fight seeming to drain out of her

“Can we not fight, please?” she asks. “That’s not what I came here for.”

Her voice sounds suddenly tired. Sakura pauses, watching her face. Her expression seems sincere, but Sakura isn’t sure if she can believe her. It’s been so long since she and Ino talked civilly.

She presses her lips together tightly. “Fine,” she agrees, her expression cautious. “What did you come here for, then?”

Ino hesitates. There’s an unsureness to her that’s at odds with her usual personality. “I—”

The hospital window shatters. Sakura shrieks in surprise, ducking down and protecting her head with her arms. She slams her eyes closed, feeling shards of glass cut into her skin.

“What the fuck, you moron!” a female voice yells. “You’re going to bring the guards right to us!”

“It wasn’t me, it was Ukon! I warned you he was getting impatient!”

Sakura blinks spots from her vision. She’s on the ground, glass all around her, and her mind spins, trying to process what happened in the last couple of seconds. She tries to push herself up, but the glass slices into her palm, sharp pain shooting through her arm.

There are four people in front of her, who just smashed through the window. They look older than her by a few years; Sakura doesn’t recognize any of them.

“So much for being inconspicuous,” one of them says. The one with dark skin. “Orochimaru-sama isn’t going to be pleased.”

Orochimaru. The name startles her, and that’s when she notices the hitai-ate one of them is wearing. Otogakure. They’re Sound ninja.

Sakura feels fear shoot through her. She looks behind her immediately, realizing their target. Sasuke-kun…!

“Doe!”

One of her ribs snaps sharply, and she’s propelled into the air by an invisible force. Sakura gasps, her vision going white. She chokes on the cry that tries to leave her mouth.

“Sakura!”

The voice is Ino's, but Sakura can’t respond. The pain is sharper than anything she’s ever felt, and it narrows the world down so that it’s the only thing that exists.

“Ray!”

Again, she feels bone snap, the world spinning. Her lips are wet, and she chokes on blood.

“Me!”

She slams into the ground as a third rib breaks, and she huddles there, curled in on herself. Her chest is on fire, and there’s blood forcing it’s way up her throat, and each time she coughs her vision goes dark around the edges.

For a moment, she blacks out. Only for a few seconds. The agony pulls her quickly back.

One of the Sound ninjas is standing in front of her. His turquoise lips are quilted in a sadist smirk. Terror explodes in her gut, but she forces herself to breathe through it.

She can’t move. Trying makes her vision go dim. But desperation burns in her chest, stronger than the agonizing pain, and she drags herself across the floor. Blood dribbles past her lips.

“Your bones play a lovely tune,” the blue-haired Sound ninja says, but the words distort in Sakura’s ears.

She grabs the sheet of the hospital bed. Her chest is on fire, she can barely breathe, and her vision keeps going black. But she pulls herself in front of Sasuke anyway, shielding him.

You’re not going to take him, she thinks desperately. The metal frame bites into her back. I won’t let you take him…

With a playful smirk, the blue-haired ninja kicks at her knees. Sakura falls, but she grabs Sasuke’s arm, her nails digging into his skin. She blacks out again, the word spinning, but she clings to his arm and anchors herself back.

She shakes as she struggles not to collapse—weak, pathetic, useless—but she puts her body in front of his and refuses to move.

I won’t let you take him.

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” the female voice yells.  “Just kill her already! Stop playing around, you shithead!”

The Sound ninja in front of her smirks. “You’re right, Tayuya. She’s too weak to have any fun with, anyway.”

A hand reaches down. She’s yanked into the air by the front of her shirt, away from Sasuke. Her ribs are jostled, and her vision goes dark. A pain shoots through her, sharper than before, and she gasps.

“Don’t touch her!”

The voice is familiar, and Sakura knows she should know who it is. But pain sends her mind quickly falling into darkness.

Ino knows it will leave her body defenseless. She knows if she does it, she’ll be killed the second they notice what she’s doing.

She doesn’t care. Seeing Sakura about to die ignites in her a fury she didn’t know she possessed.

“Shintenshin no Jutsu!”

Fighting through the webs trapping her arms, she brings her thumbs and two forefingers together, focusing on the female ninja behind Sakura’s attacker. She leaves her own body behind, catapulted into someone else's.

Transferring minds with someone else can be disorienting, but Ino doesn’t hesitate to move. Using hands that aren’t her own, she grabs the back of the ninja holding Sakura.

Gross, Ino thinks. Is that another head? On one body?

The blue-haired ninja drops Sakura in surprise. “Hey! Tayuya—”

Ino throws him over her shoulder, then delivers a solid kick that sends him flying through the broken window.

“Sakon!” one of the others yells. The chubby one. He pins his gaze on his female teammate accusingly. “Tayuya! What the hell?”

“She’s a Yamanaka!” the other one yells. He spins around, a kunai suddenly in his hand, and he spins for Ino's prone body, aiming for the throat.

Ino panics. She releases Tayuya from her Mind Transfer Jutsu. Inside her own body again, she jerks her own head up wildly, but she’s defenseless to do anything against the strike.

She stares as the kunai comes down, her own heartbeat roaring in her ears. A thousand memories flash through her mind in the space of a single second.

Sakura. I’m sorry—

A green blur comes out of nowhere. Ino blinks, and suddenly her attacker is on the ground, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. She stares at him with wide eyes, then lifts her gaze to her rescuer.

“Fear not!” Might Gai says. He strikes a fierce pose that would be comical if Ino wasn’t so stunned. “Konoha's Blue Beast has arrived to protect you!”

Ino struggles to catch her breath, her eyes darting back to the body on the ground. The two Sound ninja remaining stare at their fallen comrade in shock.

“You bastard—!” the female yells. Her face contorts with rage. She throws herself at Gai recklessly, eyes burning, but her heavier companion catches her around the waist, easily restraining her.

“Tayuya! Tayuya, stop! We have to go!”

“He killed Kidōmaru!” she screeches, struggling desperately to free herself from his arms. “I’ll kill him! I’ll fucking kill him—!”

“Do you know who he is? We have to go now—”

“Fuck you, you worthless piece of shit—”

With one last look at Sasuke’s unconscious form, and a heartbroken look at the body of his comrade, the heavyset Oto-nin wraps his arms tighter around his screaming comrade, then drags her through the window.

Ino can still hear her screams after they’re gone.

She lets herself breathe, her body slumping in relief. I’m alive, she realizes, and she feels like collapsing.

The relief is short-lived. Sakura, she remembers not even a second later. Panic fills her chest, and she rushes to her rival's side falling to her knees.

“Gai-sensei—” she calls, but the green-clad man is already there, scooping Sakura up into his arms. She doesn’t stir.

Fear clogs Ino's throat. “Is she—will she—"

Gai looks down at the pink-haired girl in his arms, frowning. “She will be fine,” he says, after what seems to Ino like forever. “Nothing Tsunade-sama cannot fix, but I must get her to her immediately.”

Ino nods. She has a thousand questions, but the sight of Sakura looking so crumpled makes all of them flee her mind at once. She blinks tears from her eyes

Gai looks down at her thoughtfully. After a moment, he settles a hand on her shoulder. “You did good here,” he says, unusually subdued. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

Ino shakes her head, remembering the way Sakura fought through her pain to drag herself in front of Sasuke—defending him to what she thought was her last breath. Her throat burns.

“I didn’t do anything,” she says.

“This won’t happen again,” Gai promises. “There will be ANBU posted by all of the entrances. Someone will be by to clean up this mess. Are you unhurt?”

“I’m fine,” Ino answers. She’s shaken, and she can’t get her hands to stop trembling, but aside from a few scrapes, she hasn’t been harmed. “I’ll stay here until then.”

Gai leaves with Sakura through the broken window. Ino collapses in the chair by Sasuke’s bed. There’s a dead body three feet away from her, and she can’t stop herself from glancing at it. She remembers the blue-haired ninja she tosses out the window, and she presses a hand over her mouth.

Is he dead? she wonders, and fights the urge to be sick. Did I kill him? I've never killed anyone before…

She buries her face in her hands, her entire body shaking. She’s still sitting like that when Asuma-sensei finds her twenty minutes later.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno has three cracked ribs and a punctured aorta. Tsunade spends two hours kneeling by the girl’s side, painstakingly healing the damage.

When she’s finished, the feel of blood on her hands causes her chest to tighten in panic. Her breathing becomes short. She shoves her shaking hands under the faucet, struggling to banish the memory of her palms pushing against Dan's chest, his life slipping away beneath her hands.

Disgust at her own weakness surges within her. What kind of medic falls apart at the sight of blood?

This is why she left. This is why she ran. She was afraid of the ghosts she had left behind her.

Dan. Nowaki.

(Orochimaru.)

She pulls herself together, drying her hands and forcing them to stop trembling. She shuts it down and locks it away, donning the face of a Hokage as she exits the hospital’s restroom.

Sasuke Uchiha’s room is just down the hall from where Sakura has been placed. When Tsunade enters, Gai is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He’s frowning down at the blood and glass on the floor, his expression troubled.

“Did you talk with Sakura’s parents?” Tsunade asks.

Gai pulls his gaze around to look at her. The shoulder of his green jumpsuit is stained red. “Yes, they’re with her now. I also talked with Ino about what happened before I arrived. She said that the attackers were trying to capture Sasuke, not kill him.”

Tsunade’s lips thinned. “Orochimaru.”

Gai nods, his face grim. “Yes. She said one of them mentioned his name.”

Tsunade grits her teeth. Her nails bite into her skin. Stupid, she berates herself. I should have placed a guard on him.

She knew about Orochimaru’s interest in the boy. She knew about the curse mark and the kidnapping attempt by Kabuto Yakushi. She was briefed on the situation when she was inaugurated as Hokage. She should have predicted that the Sound would make another attempt. She should have put safety measures in place.

But she didn’t. She didn’t, and two children nearly died because of it.

“How is Ino?” she asks him. “You’re sure she wasn’t hurt?”

He shakes his head. “No, nothing beyond a few scratches. She seemed alright when I spoke to her. A bit shaken up, but mostly just worried about her friend. Asuma is with her.”

Tsunade nods, relief allowing the knot in her chest to loosen. She’ll have to pay Asuma a visit later; he no doubt has questions about what caused his student to nearly get killed.

Gai sighs heavily, looking toward Sasuke on the bed. He was completely undisturbed by the earlier attack. Tsunade doesn’t thing she’s ever seen a genjutsu so powerful.

“I should have been quicker to arrive!” the taijutsu expert says, his jaw clenched. “What am I going to tell Kakashi? Now two of his students are in the hospital! I promised to watch out for them while he was gone!”

Gai’s eyes are practically flaming with self-recrimination. Tsunade purses her lips.

“You did watch out for them. If you hadn’t been there, Sakura and Ino would have been killed, and Sasuke would be halfway to Otogakure by now. It’s my fault. I should’ve placed this room under watch.”

She presses her lips together, still kicking herself. Her eyes move over the room, and she grimaces at the broken window. Her gaze falls to the floor littered with shards of glass, lingering on the smears of blood on the white tile.

“I’m having Sasuke moved to a different room,” she decides. “And I’m posting four ANBU at his door at all times. Something like this will not happen again.”

Gai nods. “I’ll watch over him, too. Kakashi asked me to, and I’m here with Lee most days, anyway.”

Memory sparks at the young boy’s name. A young genin laid up in the hospital a floor down, fighting against his own broken body.

“About Lee,” she says, and Gai looks at her with a spark in his eyes. “I’ve been exploring more options for his surgery. I believe I might have found a way to increase his chances.”

Gai straightens, his slumped posture disappearing. “Really!?”

“Not by much,” she warns him, before he can get too excited. “There’s still going to be a big risk involved. But I think I may be able to give him more than a fifty-fifty chance of survival.”

“Any improvement is enough!” Gai proclaims. “Oh, to know that Lee might still get the chance to continue in his springtime of youth—! It is wonderful news! Thank you!”

Tsunade rolls her eyes, but her lips quirk slightly. “You’re welcome. I’ll keep you updated on any progress I make.”

She leaves before he can start making her ears ring.

When Sakura wakes up a few hours later, Ino is sitting at her bedside.

Bright light assaults her eyes, and her head spins. She blinks her eyes rapidly, staring at the slumped girl in the chair. Her thoughts are so hazy and confused, it takes her a moment to make sense of what she’s seeing.

“Ino?” she questions, her eyebrows furrowed.

Ino’s head snaps up, her body straightening out of its slump. “Sakura!” she says, her eyes flooding with relief. “You’re awake!”

Sakura blinks, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Then suddenly there are a pair of arms around her neck, a body pressed against hers. Sakura’s eyes go wide in surprise. Ino’s hair gets in her mouth.

Ino’s hugging me, Sakura registers, frozen in place as her mind struggles to catch up. Why is Ino hugging me?

Ino pulls back quickly, looking almost embarrassed by the display. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Sakura stares at her, then begins to take in her surroundings. She’s sitting on a hospital bed, but she doesn’t feel hurt. Slowly, previous events catch up to her.

“Sasuke-kun!” she exclaims, once she remembers. Her eyes go wide, her heartrate picking up. “Is he—?”

“He’s fine,” Ino assures her. “Gai-sensei got there just in time. He saved us. They’re moving Sasuke-kun to a new room. I think I heard Godaime-sama say something about guards.”

Sakura remembers how to breathe. She presses her hand to her chest, recalling the terror that filled her as she crawled across the floor, dragging herself in front of Sasuke. She recalls the taste of blood in her mouth, choking her. The sharp snap of her ribs…

She shudders, a wave of fear crashing over her. I nearly died…

Sakura’s been close to death before. The Land of Waves. The Forest of Death. Gaara. But for some reason, this time it really hits her. She’s never felt more aware of how fragile she is. How easily her bones can break, her life can slip away.

The beat of her heart is steady beneath her palm. She holds her hand there, allowing it to reassure her.

“Are you okay?” Ino asks. Her expression is creased in worry. “You look really pale. Should I get a nurse?”

Sakura shakes her head. “No, I’m okay.” She remembers Ino, calling out to her just before she fell unconscious, and she frowns. “Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“I’m okay.”

Sakura nods, reassured. Her chest feels slightly sore, but she doesn’t seem to be injured anymore. Tsunade-sama must have healed her.

“Do my parents know?” she asks.

“They were here earlier. I saw Tsunade-sama talking to them in the hallway, but I don’t think they’re here anymore.”

Sakura processes this, and decides she should probably go looking for them. Despite her close encounters with death, she’s never been injured like this before. They were probably terrified when they heard.

A lot of the time, Sakura feels guilty for neglecting her parents so much. But they don’t understand what shinobi life is like. They don’t understand her.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Ino says. “I was so scared for you.”

Sakura looks at her in surprise. “You were?”

Ino nods, and Sakura sees a glimpse of her old friend reflected in her eyes. The one who pushed her bangs back and taught her not to hide behind them.

“I missed you,” she admits quietly. “That’s why I was at the hospital. I wanted to see you. I wanted to try and be friends again.”

Sakura stares at her in surprise, her lips parting silently. She doesn’t know what to say. It wasn’t too long ago that she and Ino left their friendship behind, but it feels like a lifetime. She never expected that Ino might ever wish to rekindle it.

(She never considered that, deep down, Ino might feel the same way that she does.)

“But… but what about Sasuke-kun?” she asks.

Ino straightens confidently, and she looks more like herself. “He’s still going to be mine, of course. But I don’t see why that should have anything to do with us.”

Sakura’s first instinct is to snap back at her. Sasuke will be hers, not Ino's! He’s barely ever even spoken to her!

But she bites her tongue, holding the sharp words behind her teeth. Because she does miss Ino. She misses talking about boys with her, and braiding flowers into each other’s hair. She misses sleepovers, and laughter, and the reassurance of knowing she has someone standing beside her.

She misses her friend. She has Naruto and Sasuke, but it isn’t the same.

“I think I’d like that,” she says softly.

Ino smiles. She leans forward to hug Sakura again. This time, Sakura hugs her back.

“But Sasuke-kun’s definitely mine, not yours,” she can’t resist adding.

Ino pulls back quickly, her face twisting in a familiar expression of anger. “He is not! Just because you’re on the same team as him now doesn’t mean—"

There’s a loud bang as the door is thrown open. Naruto stands there, his blue eyes wide. He looks as though he’s been running.

“Sakura!” he yells. “There you are!”

“Knock much, Naruto?” Ino says, scowling. Naruto ignores her.

“I heard you were attacked by Sound ninja! Is it true they were after Sasuke? Are you okay?”

She and Ino share a look. Ino sighs.

“I’ll just go now,” she says. “Asuma-sensei is probably looking for me. I’ll see if I can find your parents to tell them you’re up.”

She slips out the door behind Naruto. Sakura turns her attention to her teammate.

“I’m okay, Naruto,” she says. “Tsunade-sama healed me.”

“What happened? I heard Choji and Shikamaru talking—they said you and Ino were almost killed!”

Sakura winces. “It was Orochimaru. He sent a group of ninja to kidnap Sasuke-kun.”

Naruto blinks. “Orochimaru?” Anger flashes across his face at the mention of the man who killed the Sandaime. “What does he want with Sasuke?”

Realization hits Sakura, and her eyes widen. He doesn’t know, she realizes. Sasuke made her promise not to tell him about the mark on his neck, but Sakura assumed that Kakashi must have told Naruto at some point.

She wrestles with herself for a moment, unsure of what to do. She made Sasuke a promise. But Naruto deserved to know…

Sakura sighs. “Let’s take a walk, okay? There’s something that you should probably know about…”

“Orochimaru did what?!”

Sakura winces at Naruto's volume, as several people on the streets turn their heads to look at them. She waits until they turn away to respond.

“Gave him a curse mark,” she repeats, casting him a careful look. “Keep your voice down. I don’t think anyone is supposed to know about it.”

“You did,” Naruto says, shaking his head. His teeth are clenched. “Kakashi-sensei did.”

“I only know because I was there when it happened,” Sakura tells him. “I saw…”

Sakura trails off, remembering that horrible moment in the Forest of Death. She has nightmares about that day; about Sasuke’s body covered in black markings, a cruel smile on his lips as he snapped the Sound ninja’s arms.

She shudders and forces the memory away. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t Sasuke.

“I saw it,” she repeats. “I don’t know how Kakashi-sensei found out. He just seemed to know. Sasuke-kun didn’t want anyone else to know. He asked me not to tell you.”

Sakura shifts as she remembers her promise, feeling guilty. She knows that telling Naruto about the mark is probably the right thing to do; but she hates that she’s betraying Sasuke-kun's trust.

Please don’t be angry when you wake up, she pleads.

Naruto huffs. His blue eyes are bright with annoyance. “That bastard! We’re supposed to be a team, dattebayo! We can’t be keeping secrets—"

He cuts himself off abruptly, a strange emotion flickering across his face. He looks almost abashed by his words, followed by an expression of extreme discomfort.

“What?” Sakura asks.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. He runs the back of his head and smiles nervously. “I mean, I guess secrets aren’t always bad. We need secrets. Secrets are—secrets are good sometimes, ya know?”

Sakura frowns at him for a long moment. Naruto fidgets as they walk down the street, refusing to meet her eyes.

“You’re being weird,” she tells him.

“No I’m not! What’s with this curse mark thing, anyway? Why Sasuke? What’s Orochimaru want with him?”

Sakura easily recognizes the words as the change of subject they’re meant to be, but she allows it. Whatever Naruto’s being so strange about is probably something stupid, anyway.

“I don’t know. He said that Sasuke-kun would come looking for him in search of power.”

Naruto frowns for a moment, then shakes his head. “No way! Sasuke would never do that! He’s already really powerful!”

Sakura swallows, and thinks about Sasuke in the Forest of Death. She thinks about black marks decorating his skin, about the cruel smile pulling at his lips as he snapped that Sound ninja’s arms.

“Yeah,” she says, and tries to sound like she believes it as much as he does. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

Orochimaru must see that now, she tries to convince herself. Otherwise he wouldn’t be trying to kidnap him…

The both of them are silent for a few moments as they walk. The day is bleeding into evening. She should really go see her parents and make sure they know she’s okay. They’re probably worrying themselves sick.

“It’s getting a bit late,” she says. “What are you going to do now?”

Naruto shrugs. “I don’t know. Go home, I guess. Iruka-sensei’s been too busy to hang out today. And Pervy Sage and Kakashi-sensei are both gone, so…”

Sakura watches him, and something about his face feels wrong. He’s smiling widely, like he always does, but the look in his eyes doesn’t match. They aren’t as bright as they normally are.

It hits her, quite suddenly, how lonely he must be.

“Naruto,” Sakura says hesitantly. “I was going to go home to have dinner with my parents. Did you… maybe want to come with me?”

He stares at her, his face dumbfounded. And it makes her even sadder, because he shouldn’t look so surprised by someone asking him over for dinner.

“Really?” he asks, eyes wide.

“Really,” she affirms.

And Naruto’s answering smile is brighter than the sun.

Chapter Text

Fifty-five percent.

Tsunade stares down at the papers of research in front of her, the end of her pen held between her teeth. She frowns down at the calculations that she’s marked in red. 

Fifty-five percent chance of survival. That’s only an increase of five percent. If Lee chooses to undergo this operation, then he still has a forty-five percent chance of dying.

Not good enough. I can do better.

Her teeth bite down harder on the end of her pen. Leaning forward, her eyes zero in on some of the newer calculations she’s made up. If the problem lies in Lee’s body not being strong enough to hold up during the procedure…

The sound of the door opening interrupts her concentration. Her head snaps up, prepared to snap at whoever it is for entering without an invitation, and then she freezes, her pen still in her mouth.

“Danzo,” she says in surprise, pulling the pen back from her mouth.

“Tsunade,” the man responds, leaning heavily on his cane. “I see that chair is treating you well.”

A frown pulls at her lips. She knows that Danzo has been a longtime campaigner for the Hokage’s seat, and she doesn’t appreciate the undercurrent she hears in his voice.

She watches him warily. She knows he was an honored friend to her sensei—and to her great-uncle. But she doesn’t trust him. She never has.

“Was there something you needed?” she asks.

Danzo turns, walking steadily toward the window. He braces his hands on the window sill, looking out over the village. “You can say that.”

He doesn’t look at her when he speaks. Tsunade feels herself bristle at his complete lack of respect.

“I’m concerned about the recent mission you sanctioned,” he says. “The capture and retrieval of Itachi Uchiha.”

Tsunade tenses very slightly. She doesn’t know how he’s obtained this information so fast, but she doesn’t like it. Especially since she’s been trying to keep quiet about it.

Something that she’s learned since taking up the position of Hokage is that the Elders are notorious busybodies. They just don’t know when to keep their noses out.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” she tells him. 

Her voice skates thinly on the line of still being polite. He turns from the window to face her.

“Itachi Uchiha is one of the most dangerous shinobi that Konoha has ever produced. The decision to try to bring him in alive is a foolish one.”

Tsunade’s irritation grows at the way he speaks—as if he is the one in the room with the power, not her. Her jaw tightens.

“You must have heard about Sasuke Uchiha’s condition,” she says. “Attempting to capture Itachi is a risk, but it’s our only option. I won’t stand by and watch an innocent child suffer.”

Danzo’s expression doesn’t change. There isn’t so much as a flicker in his eye. “Sasuke’s situation is unfortunate. But his life is not worth the lives of two of our most valuable resources.”

Tsunade’s mouth twists slightly, imagining how Jiraiya would react to being referred to as such. “Those resources volunteered for the mission themselves. Why are you so certain they will fail?”

She will not lie and say that she has not feared the same; that Kakashi and Jiraiya will be killed, and that she’ll have to send out a member of ANBU to dispose of their bodies. But fear can often times be irrational, and she knows how powerful Jiraiya is. And Itachi may have a leg up on Kakashi, but she knows that his strength is nothing to scoff at, either. He’s one of the best jounin Konoha has.

They will succeed in this. If she didn’t believe that, then she never would have agreed to send them out.

“If the mission succeeds,” Danzo says, ignoring her question, “then what will you do with him, after he wakes his brother? Kill him?”

“He’s a member of the Akatsuki,” Tsunade responds. “The information he carries is invaluable. Killing him would be an utter waste of resources.”

It’s a risk, of course. Keeping an enemy alive, instead of executing them at the earliest opportunity, always is. But war is steadily approaching them, and their enemy is an organization that is nearly completely unknown; they need all the information they can get.

Danzo’s eye narrows, his gaze sharp. “Do not be a fool, Tsunade. He’s not going to give you anything.”

“He’ll be interrogated by T&I,” she says firmly. “He’ll cough up every shred of intel he has, or someone will dig into his mind and rip it out. And they won’t bother to be gentle when doing it.”

“You forget, Itachi was ANBU. They are trained to resist such methods of interrogation.”

“Everyone breaks, if you apply the right pressure. Even Itachi Uchiha.”

Danzo’s mouth becomes slanted, the expression pulling at the x-shaped scar on his chin. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Tsunade. I hope you’re prepared to deal with the fallout.”

Tsunade narrows her eyes dangerously. “Meaning?”

“Simply that you’re known for losing most of your gambles.” He turns around abruptly, walking back over to the door. “Be wary of the threads you choose to pull. You might just spell Konoha’s destruction.”

With those parting words, he pulls the door open and exits the way he came. Tsunade is left staring at the place where he was standing, something dark and suspicious curling in her gut.

What are you up to? she wonders, her eyebrows furrowed. How does Itachi Uchiha fit into this for you?

She sits there thinking about it for a long time. She’s left with a dozen half-formed questions, and not a single answer for any of them.

It doesn’t take Itachi long to realize they’re being followed.

Kisame doesn’t notice. He’s too busy keeping up a steady stream of chatter about the bounty mission they’ve just completed. Itachi tunes him out, his senses honing in on the chakra signatures tailing them.

He can’t tell if they’re familiar or not. They’re keeping a distance of at least a quarter mile, and Itachi isn’t a sensory type; he can’t sense them well enough from this far away. Their chakra is only the slightest brush against his awareness.

“Stop,” Itachi says, his mouth pulling into a frown.

Kisame halts immediately, in both his movements and his speech. He looks at Itachi in question. “What?”

“We’ve picked up a tail.”

Kisame frowns. He turns to look over his right shoulder. “I don’t sense anyone.”

“Maybe you would if you learned the importance of stilling your tongue.”

His partner casts him a look of mild offense. “Rude. Do you recognize who they are?”

Itachi stretches his senses out as far as they go, trying to get a better read on them. But it’s no use; their chakra brushes against his mind like a static shock, purposefully muted. He can’t glean anything from it.

“No, they’re too far away.” He presses his lips into a thin line. “You go deliver our package to the Tsuchikage. I’ll go investigate.”

The ‘package' Itachi is speaking of is the powerful nuke-nin the Akatsuki is being charged by Iwagakure to capture. He’s currently unconscious, thrown carelessly over Kisame’s sword.

Kisame looks displeased by Itachi’s proposal. “By yourself?”

“We need to complete our mission quickly, before Leader-sama contacts us again,” Itachi reminds him. “And you’ll draw too much attention. If you come with me, we’ll just end up in a fight.”

Kisame bares his teeth in a shark-like grin. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“It’s unnecessary. I’m not in the mood to indulge your whims.”

“You rarely are.” His partner sighs, hefting Samehada higher on his shoulder as their package threatens to slip off the end. “Well alright, deal with them then. I’ll go on ahead and collect the bounty.”

Kisame leaves. Itachi stretches his senses out again, latching onto the two distant chakra signatures. He debates sending out a crow to scout them first, but decides that would take too long. Pain is expecting them soon.

He pulls his chakra tightly around himself, making his own signature as small as possible, and he manipulates some of the chakra at his feet, making his footsteps soundless. It’s not true cloaking, but it’s the closest that a ninja can manage without a seal.

The thick forest he’s in provides him with excellent cover. The chakra signatures are still about five hundred yards away. It appears that they have stopped briefly.

Resting? Itachi wonders. If they are, then that implies that they’ve been following him and Kisame for a quite a while. And I only just noticed them.

Whoever they are, they’re skilled. Highly trained in the art of stealth. Even now, their presence is difficult to sense.

He hears them before he sees them. Their voices are quiet, but they still carry through the trees.

“—need a game plan. Attacking both of them at once is suicide.”

“This entire mission is suicide.”

Itachi tenses at the voices. One of them is much more familiar than the other, but he recognizes both of them immediately. Kakashi. And Jiraiya.

Itachi tightens his jaw, reassessing his options. He wasn’t expecting one of the Sannin.

He doesn’t move out any further, just presses himself against the trunk of a tree. He listens to their conversation, hoping it might reveal what they’re doing out here. If they came on some fool's errand to capture him, then he can just shake them off his tail without confronting them.

Still, he can’t make sense of why they would even try it. He already took Kakashi down once. Why risk it?

(And why would the Elders let them risk it? They would never want him captured—not when it would be so easy for him to reveal all their secrets.)

“—one who agreed to come along,” Kakashi is saying. His voice is less than five yards away. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now?”

“Of course not! You think I’m scared of some teenage brat?”

It takes Itachi a second to realize that the words are referring to him. He wonders if he should feel offended.

“That teenage brat is also an S-rank criminal who slaughtered one of the most powerful clans singlehandedly.”

“Semantics,” the Toad Sennin replies. After a pause, he sighs. “Alright, I get it. Don’t look at me like that. I was the one who warned you to be careful, remember? I want to help Sasuke as much as you do.”

Itachi startles slightly, reacting without meaning to. The iron-clad control he has over his chakra slips for the briefest moment, and he quickly clamps back down on it, praying neither of them noticed the slight flare.

He hasn’t thought about Sasuke since he left him behind at that hotel ten days ago. Hasn’t thought about Sasuke because he can’t think about Sasuke, because that road leads straight down a proverbial rabbit hole he can’t let himself fall into.

He flexes his fingers at his side, caught in the memory of fist against bone. The feeling of it ghosts across his knuckles.

(A sharp snap—skin beneath his fingernails—)

He bites hard on his tongue, and the pain causes the memory to dissipate. His focus sharpens. What does Sasuke have to do with this?

“I know how dangerous this is,” Kakashi says. “Trust me, I know what he’s capable of. I felt it. But right now, he’s Sasuke’s only hope. Without Itachi… he might never wake up.”

The words slam into him like a sledgehammer. Never wake up? Alarm shoots through him. Surely his brother has woken up by now?

Tsukuyomi is a vicious technique, merciless in the way it tears through its victims minds. But he used it on Sasuke before, when he was seven. He was fine, then. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be fine now, and even if he isn’t—even if Itachi damaged his mind somehow—

Itachi calculated the risks. He predicted the outcome. He can’t have miscalculated—he never miscalculates—

Jiraiya and Kakashi continue to speak. They’ve moved on to talking strategy, and are now trying to figure out the best possible way to separate him and Kisame. Their conversation becomes background noise.

For a moment, Itachi is frozen, wrestling with indecision. His desire to avoid a fight wars with his need to know what has happened to his brother (what he’s done to his brother). He hesitates, caught between logic and emotion.

(“… he might never wake up.”)

Itachi activates his Sharingan. Pushing aside the branches concealing him, he steps forward.

Chapter Text

When Itachi comes walking out of the trees, Kakashi and Jiraiya are expecting him.

They knew Itachi would sense them following him. That was part of their plan. Stop to rest, allow him to sense them, and draw him out into the open. They prepared measures beforehand, knowing they would have to fight him; Jiraiya had already planted chains in the ground beneath them.

Even mentioning Sasuke was a calculated move on their part. Itachi is an expert at concealing his presence. It was impossible for them to know for sure if he took the bait, but speaking Sasuke’s name resulted in a brief flare of chakra that allowed them to pinpoint his location.

Kakashi knows Itachi will come alone. He won’t want to start a fight unless absolutely necessary, and Kisame’s presence will only incite conflict.

So when Itachi comes through the trees, his Sharingan already blazing, Jiraiya and Kakashi aren’t caught off guard. They’re already on their feet.

“Kakashi-san,” Itachi greets them. “Jiraiya-sama.”

It bemuses Kakashi how unerringly polite Itachi is—even when plunging a katana repeatedly into Kakashi’s gut. In most ways, he’s completely unrecognizable from the young boy Kakashi once knew. In other ways, he hasn’t changed at all.

Remembering those days makes Kakashi’s chest ache. For Sasuke, it must be agonizing.

“Why are you following me?” he asks. “And what does it have to do with my brother?”

Straight to the point. Kakashi expected nothing else from him. He directs his gaze to the space just left of Itachi’s face; he isn’t going to make the mistake of looking into his eyes again.

“Your brother is in a coma,” Jiraiya answers. He, too, is being careful not to meet the Uchiha’s gaze. “It seems that genjutsu of yours did more damage than you intended.”

Neither Jiraiya or Kakashi are certain if that last part is true. It’s possible that trapping Sasuke in the genjutsu was exactly what Itachi intended. He’s certainly cruel enough for it.

But Kakashi doesn’t think so. It doesn’t make sense for that to be the case. Kakashi doesn’t understand why, but Itachi has spared Sasuke’s life twice now. He wanted to hurt him, not kill him.

And this genjutsu will kill him eventually. The mind can only take so much pressure before it shatters.

“Not even Tsunade can do anything for him,” Jiraiya says.

A flicker of emotion passes through Itachi’s eyes, the smallest crack in his unfeeling countenance. But it’s gone before Kakashi can identify what it is.

“I fail to see what that has to do with me,” he says coolly. “If a medical genius the likes of Tsunade-sama can do nothing—”

“He’s under your genjutsu,” Kakashi interrupts him.

Itachi’s words falter. “What?”

Once again, the smallest flicker of emotion makes itself known. Kakashi latches onto it, to the smallest hint of proof that Itachi feels, that Sasuke means something.

“That genjutsu you put him under,” Kakashi continues. “The same one you put me under, wasn’t it?”

Itachi doesn’t respond, and Kakashi takes this as confirmation.

“He’s trapped inside it,” he tells him. “You never dispelled it. Over ten days. Over ten days being trapped inside that same memory, living in a never-ending nightmare.”

And for a single moment, the briefest moment of time, Itachi’s mask falls away completely. Too shocked, too stunned, to even try to hold onto it, the coldness in his expression fled, and the emotion in his eyes is crystal clear.

Absolute horror.

The emotion in his eyes is so raw, so absolutely horrified, that it makes Kakashi’s breath catch in his throat. He realizes he’s been looking into Itachi’s eyes, has been for a few moments now, and has to tear his gaze away sharply, hoping he hasn’t already been trapped in a genjutsu.

(Itachi doesn’t look like he’s in the state of mind to cast a genjutsu right now.)

When Kakashi returns his gaze frontward, not meeting Itachi’s gaze but close enough to see his expression, the emotion is gone. It’s been locked away behind steel doors and iron bars.

“That was never my intention,” Itachi says. There’s the smallest thread of emotion in his voice, giving him away, but it’s not enough for Kakashi to be able to grasp. “However, I still fail to see what it has to do with me.”

Jiraiya’s face is hard, his jaw clenched. “It’s your genjutsu. You’re the only one who can break him out of it.” Something flashes over Itachi’s expression, but he doesn’t respond, and Jiraiya's eyes spark with anger. “That kid is your little brother. Do you really not care for him at all?”

“He’s a nuisance not worth my attention,” Itachi replies. “The fact that he cannot break out of the genjutsu himself is only proof of his weakness. If seeing him suffering upsets you so much, then I suggest you put him out of his misery. He holds no interest for me.”

Itachi’s voice is colder than Kakashi’s ever heard it. It’s almost enough to make Kakashi forget the clear horror he saw in his eyes a moment ago.

Almost, but not quite.

“I don’t believe you,” Kakashi responds. “He means something to you. I don’t know what that something is, but it’s something. You wouldn’t have spared him otherwise.”

Itachi’s expression doesn’t change. “He means nothing to me.”

Kakashi clenches his jaw. He remembers a twelve-year-old boy who once claimed the exact opposite, his face filled with a deeper love than Kakashi had ever seen.

(“He means everything to me.”)

Kakashi wonders what happened to that boy. What happened to the boy who loved his brother more than anything, more than life?

He can’t be the same person standing in front of him now. He can’t be.

“You’ll come with us,” Kakashi tells him. “Or we’ll take you back by force.”

Itachi raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re so certain you can defeat me? Was one sojourn in my Tsukuyomi not enough to prove it useless? Are you really so eager to suffer it again?”

Kakashi doesn’t wince at the memory of the torture he endured, though it’s a near thing. Instead, he reaches up with his hand to push up his hitai-ate, directing his gaze just to the left of Itachi’s eyes.

(Absently, he files the name away to look into later. Tsukuyomi.)

“Not really,” he replies. “But I’ve got a student that’s counting on me. And I never make the same mistake twice.”

Itachi’s eyes narrow. His gaze darts to Jiraiya for a moment, almost uncertain, before it returns to Kakashi, the emotion gone.

“Very well,” he replies. “If you are really so confident.”

He lunges, low and fast. His speed is incredible, untraceable, but Kakashi knows this game. He trained with the Yellow Flash, after all.

He matches Itachi’s speed with his own, kunai already flashing out to deflect another, but Itachi shifts his weight back sharply, sliding feet-first under the whirling leaves of Kakashi’s shunshin.

Kakashi’s Sharingan catches the movement, and he changes direction in the same instant. His kunai slices through empty air, a fourth of a second too slow, then his head snaps up just in time to spot the clone dropping down from below.

One hit from a shuriken, and the clone bursts into a dozen cawing crows. The birds obscure his vision for a moment, and Kakashi weaves the seals for a substitution as he spins around, ducking a grab. Itachi twists around his kick, lashing out with a kunai only to hit a log instead.

Kakashi flickers behind him, and Itachi spins, his kunai flashing up to parry Kakashi’s. The blades meet with a loud clang, and the blow is actually enough to drive Itachi back a step.

Across their blades, Kakashi smiles at him. It’s not a nice smile; it’s sharp, razor-edged. “You’re not going easy on me, are you Itachi-kun?”

Itachi’s eyes narrow. “Only because you haven’t given me a reason to try harder.”

Using their locked blades and the ground at his feet as momentum, Itachi leaps, twisting his body over Kakashi’s head. His hand lands on Kakashi’s shoulder to give himself enough leverage to complete the flip, and Kakashi is already spinning to face him as his feet touch the ground behind him.

Itachi skids backwards, his hand movements a blur even to Obito’s eye. A fireball roars through the air, and Kakashi slams his hands against the ground, a wall rising up from the earth.

He can feel the heat of the flames as they strike the barrier, and he uses the brief moment to glance behind him, weaving the seals for a clone as he does. Jiraiya is gone, as is the plan. All Kakashi needs is to keep Itachi’s attention focused on him.

If he notices Jiraiya’s absence, then it will all be over.

Itachi is behind the wall before the flames have even died away, and his katana—when did he even have time to draw it?—cuts through the air.

The clone pops, and the plumes of dust momentarily obscure Itachi’s vision. The earth beneath him erupts, and Kakashi grabs Itachi by the ankles, wrenching him down.

Another clone. Itachi’s body disappears in a murder of crows, as Kakashi expected it would. He reforms in front of him, and Kakashi doesn’t pause; he ducks a kick to the chin and drops, his own fireball expelling from his lips—

Itachi slides under the flames, close enough that Kakashi sees the ends of his bangs catch fire. He spins around so quickly that the air puts them out before they can even burn, and his katana slices through the air, but Kakashi is already gone. He appears behind him in a whirl of leaves, his hands flashing as lightning sparks in his palm.

“Raikiri!”

Itachi’s head jerks to the side, narrowly avoiding the fatal blow. His katana slides back into its sheathe, and he grips Kakashi’s arm at the elbow. His other hand grabs the back of Kakashi’s head, yanking him close.

Sharingan meets Sharingan, their gazes locking for the first time.

“Jiraiya, now!” Kakashi yells, just as Itachi’s Mangekyou activates.

Kakashi whooshes away in a whirl of leaves, just as blood begins to trickle from Itachi’s right eye. Itachi’s eyes widen, his head snapping around so fast it’s a wonder his neck doesn’t break—

It’s a ruse. There’s no one there when Itachi turns his head, and Kakashi uses the divert in his attention to skid around to his left side, his hands flashing through seals as he does.

Jiraiya appears then, dropping down from the trees, and Kakashi knows its a clone. The Jiraiya clone lands on Itachi’s right side, opposite of Kakashi.

Both of them reach down and grab the chain they implanted in the ground before Itachi appeared. The chain comes up and circles the body within it, and Kakashi and the clone pull it taut.

Itachi’s eyes widen in surprise as the chain wraps around his body, restraining him. The shadow clone Kakashi called up before appears in front of him, lightning sparking in his palm—

Unable to form hand seals, the three tomoe in Itachi’s eyes morph into a curved shuriken.

“Amaterasu!”

The shadow clone catches fire, black flames burning it to ash before the Chidori can make contact. Blood now dripping from both of his eyes, Itachi wraps his hands around the metal chains encasing him and pulls.

The chain shatters beneath his strength, clearly increased by infusing his own hands with chakra, but it’s too late. The real Jiraiya appears, erupting from the ground behind him.

Realization flashes over Itachi’s face, but his reaction time is slowed by the backlash from using his Mangekyou. Jiraiya slaps the cuffs around his wrists, and his arms are yanked forcefully behind his back, the two cuffs pulled together like magnets.

Itachi’s Sharingan deactivates immediately. Itachi falls to his knees, and Jiraiya steps back. A smug smile curves at his mouth.

Jiraiya and Kakashi walk around to stand in front of him. Itachi pulls uselessly at the cuffs.

“My chakra…”

“Those are chakra-inhibiting handcuffs,” Jiraiya explains. “They stop the flow of chakra completely. It’s useless to try and escape them, so don’t waste your time trying.”

With the cuffs around his wrists, he can’t even activate his Sharingan. Attempting to call on his chakra will only result in intense pain. Itachi knows this very well; it was something often used in ANBU when holding prisoners.

To his credit, Itachi accepts his defeat with grace. He bows his head, his hair falling over his face.

“So you caught me,” he says. His voice is as unreadable as always. “I’m impressed. What now? Drag me back to Konoha?”

Jiraiya’s face twists in disdain. He walks around to stand at Itachi’s back, yanking the teenager harshly to his feet.

“Get up,” he snarls. “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for a second.”

“I would think you a fool if you did,” the Uchiha replies.

The Sennin's face becomes pinched. He looks much like he’s resisting the urge to throw a punch.

He doesn’t drag Itachi with him, because Itachi goes willingly. Blood staining his cheeks like tears, his hair half falling out of its tie, he walks with his head held high, his face blank and his eyes cold.

“Time to go home, traitor,” Jiraiya says. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your time away.”

And Jiraiya doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see it because he doesn’t know Itachi, not like Kakashi does.

Kakashi thinks back to their fight, and already, he can think of at least seven different moves that Itachi could have used to avoid this outcome. Instances where he should have been faster, should have anticipated better. As much as Kakashi wants to believe he bested his former subordinate, he knows Itachi. He knows how the boy fights.

This wasn’t the extent of his power. Not even close.

Kakashi looks into Itachi’s emotionless gaze, and even though he can’t understand why, he knows with a stone-cold certainty that Itachi let them win. Itachi let them capture him.

Jiraiya doesn’t see it. But Kakashi does.

Itachi Uchiha is only in chains right now because he wants to be. The moment he decides he no longer does, he’ll be gone.

Chapter Text

He didn’t plan this.

Perhaps it’s a stupid thing to fixate on, given what he just learned. But the thought keeps running through his head, refusing to let him go.

He didn’t plan this.

There’s a dull ache in Itachi’s shoulders, and the restraints around his wrists chafe against his skin. His left eye still burns from using Amaterasu, and his vision is blurry around the edges.

He should probably be more concerned about that than he is. But given the recent revelation, his possible encroaching blindness doesn’t really rate.

Ten days. Ten days inside the Tsukuyomi.

The reality of the words—what they mean—sinks into his bones. He feels like his mind should be spinning, but instead it feels oddly frozen. The implications of it are too horrible to comprehend.

Sasuke.

The single thought is filled with such a deep emotion that he feels like he can’t breathe. He hears the echo of his brother’s screams in his ears, feels the splinter of bone beneath his hand. He sees the blood on Sasuke’s lips, the emptiness to his eyes, the heavy thud as he hit the floor—

Itachi pulls at his wrists inside the cuffs, causing a sharp flare of pain to shoot up his arm. It cuts through the fog in his brain, focusing him.

Ten days.

God, what has he done?

The Tsukuyomi was meant to be fuel to Sasuke’s anger. A necessary push to strengthen his hatred, to harden his resolve. Pain for the purpose of making him stronger—

(“You are weak.”)

His fingers itch with the need to hurt, to ground himself somehow. He digs his nails into his palms.

Stop. Focus.

Kakashi and Jiraiya are standing only feet away, speaking to each other in low voices. Every once in a while, one of them will glance back at him, making sure he hasn’t moved. Even as he watches, Jiraiya turns his head to pin him with a narrow glare.

They needn’t have bothered. Itachi has no plans to go anywhere. He placed himself in this bind, after all.

(He’s fairly sure Kakashi suspects this, which is… unfortunate. He probably should have fought a bit harder.)

It was the only thing he could think to do, forced to adapt to the situation. He couldn’t reveal the truth to them. He’s soaked his hands in too much blood to abandon his plans now. But Sasuke…

Ten days. It was only supposed to be one.

(And god, how awful is that? That even now, he’s still justifying his torture of his brother. Because ten days is unforgivable, but a measly twenty-four hours is just fine, right?)

Outwardly, he keeps his expression blank. But it’s taking every ounce of control he has to keep his emotions from his face.

Ten days.

Itachi digs his fingernails deeper into his palms, breaking skin. The sensation is sharp and stinging. He clings to it.

He remembers Sasuke screaming, his hand wrapped around his throat. He remembers how fragile his skin felt beneath his fingers.

(Screaming screaming screaming. His name—a plea, a prayer a curse—)

“Itachi.”

Itachi doesn’t let himself be startled by the voice. He looks up from the ground in front of him. Kakashi is standing only a couple feet away; he didn’t even hear the man approach.

(Careless. When did you get so careless?)

“Kakashi-san,” he responds. He glances behind him, where Jiraiya is standing just out of earshot. “Finally moving out, are we? Kisame will come looking for me if we linger too long.”

Kakashi watches him with an expression Itachi can’t read. Slowly, he crouches down, so he and Itachi are eye-to-eye.

“I see what you’re doing, you know. I might not understand it, but I still see it. You let yourself fall into our trap on purpose.”

Itachi thinks about denying it, realizes quickly that it would be pointless. “And if I did?”

“If you did, then that would certainly be interesting,” the jounin replies. His eye curves up into the approximation of a smile. “Considering you claim he means nothing to you.”

His tone is light, almost amused, but beneath it there’s a hardness to his voice that’s like steel. Like graphene. And Itachi remembers, suddenly, that the man in front of him was an ANBU captain.

(His ANBU captain, but that’s irrelevant.)

He’s not to be underestimated.

“I fail to see what you hope to accomplish here,” Itachi tells him. “On what basis do you think I’ll agree to help him?”

Kakashi doesn’t blink. “You’ll help him. For the same reason you let yourself be captured. Because you care about him.”

There’s many responses Itachi could give to this, ranging from outright lies to shaded truths, but it doesn’t matter. Kakashi saw the horror in his eyes earlier. Just a glimpse behind his mask, but he’s taken it for the proof that it is.

Itachi looks at him, at the deceptive affability to his expression. A hint of a smile flickers over his lips. “There’s nothing I can say that would convince you otherwise, is there?”

Kakashi stares back, his eye still curved, voice still like steel. “Absolutely nothing.”

Itachi keeps his expression unreadable. The faux smile falls from Kakashi’s eye, leaving behind a deadly expression. It’s the expression of the shinobi who was famed for being cold-blooded—whose hands are coated in more blood than maybe even Itachi’s.

“I believe you care about him,” Kakashi says. “Even love him, in your own screwed up way. But attempt to harm him again, and I will take you out.”

Itachi doesn’t answer. He takes Kakashi at his word. He knows from the look in his eye that he means it. With these cuffs locked around his wrists, Kakashi would probably actually succeed if he tried.

Kakashi stands. He grabs Itachi by the arm as he does, and Itachi pushes himself to his feet before he can be yanked there.

“Come on,” Kakashi says. “We’re heading out.”

Itachi goes the way he’s led, ignoring the ache in his shoulders. He forces his mind away from his brother—away from the torment he’s currently suffering.

He wonders what Kisame will tell Pain when they meet. He wonders if Madara will guess what has happened.

He wonders how long it will take the Akatsuki to declare him a traitor.

It takes them three days to reach Konoha, even at their fastest pace. Three more days that Sasuke is stuck inside the Tsukuyomi.

They pass through the gates and make for Hokage Tower. Itachi counts the seconds that pass, his nails gauging marks into his already abused palms.

It feels strange to be back in the village, even though he and Kisame were just there. It feels like returning home, but at the same time, it doesn’t. Familiar and foreign at the same time.

His vision is still blurry in his left eye. Itachi is starting to give up the hope that it will ever go back to normal. It seems he did permanent damage to it this time.

(Once again, he should find this more concerning. But Sasuke is so prominently in his thoughts, everything else falls to the wayside.)

The Godaime's gaze is hard and cold as she appraises him, eyes flickering from the blood on his face to the cuffs on his wrists.

“You’re going to fix whatever you did to your brother,” she says, without preamble. “And then I’m placing you in a cell.”

Itachi doesn’t respond.

When they reach the hospital, Jiraiya and Kakashi’s eyes still sharp on him, Itachi doesn’t let them see his hesitance. He follows Tsunade into the hospital room.

Naruto Uzumaki is sitting at Sasuke’s bedside. His eyes immediately fill with fire when he sees him, and he jumps to his feet.

“You!”

Itachi watches him calmly. “Naruto-kun.”

Naruto glares at him. Hatred burns in his eyes. “Don’t address me so familiarly, bastard!”

Itachi observes the boy’s reaction. Not confusion and fear, like before. Now, he’s greeted with outright hostility. It’s to be expected.

“You’re going to fix Sasuke!” the jinchuuriki yells. His fists are clenched, his teeth gritted. “You’re going to fix him right now, you heartless piece of—”

“Naruto,” Jiraiya interrupts. “Leave.”

Naruto makes an outraged face. “But—!”

“Now.”

Fury in his expression, the genin looks to Kakashi, clearly hoping his sensei will contradict this order. But Kakashi just jerks his head toward the door.

“We’ll talk later,” he says.

Fuming with indignant fury, Naruto stomps over to the door, throwing it open. He throws Itachi a hateful glare before he exits.

Itachi watches him leave, a strange feeling in his chest. He remembers the boy standing in that hallway, screaming Sasuke’s name. The raw fear in his eyes.

It seems his brother has found a friend, even amidst his isolation from the rest of the world.

Naruto Uzumaki. Itachi wonders if Sasuke will be able to kill him, when the time comes.

(“You must kill your closest friend. Just like I did.”)

No. No, Sasuke could never.

Itachi turns to the body on the bed, and his heart catches. Sasuke is so pale that he almost blends in with the sheets, and it only makes the dark bruises on his skin stand out even more sharply.

Right now, Sasuke is watching their parents be murdered. He is watching Itachi butcher them, over and over and over.

Itachi did this. He trapped him inside of a living hell.

And the very worst part of it, the most horrible, is that he can’t even regret it, not completely. He regrets that it went wrong, that he wasn’t more careful, but he can’t regret the act itself.

Not when he has a plan to carry out. Not when he needs Sasuke to gain the Mangekyou, needs him to kill Madara—

For a moment, he hopes that maybe this incident was enough to awaken it. A second later, he feels sick with himself. What kind of person has he become, that his brother lies tortured and broken, and still all he can think of are his plans?

(How long can somebody wear a mask, before it begins to mold to their face?)

“You’ll have to let me out of these restraints,” Itachi says, “if you expect me to help him.”

Itachi feels Jiraiya and Kakashi trade glances behind his back. Jiraiya looks to the Hokage.

“Do it,” Tsunade says, her lips a thin line.

There is a moment of hesitation. Then, a slight pressure on his wrists, followed by a soft click. The cuffs don’t come off, but they do fall apart, no longer pulling his arms magnetically behind his back.

The seal inscribed on the metal loses its effect when the cuffs are no longer linked. Itachi feels the moment he regains the use of its chakra, like a lock falling free from a cage. It pulses and flows within him, once again unrestricted.

He rolls his shoulders slightly, wincing from the ache in his back. The cuffs still scrape against his wrists, but it’s relieving to finally be able to move his arms.

All three of them watch him warily. But Itachi’s attention is reserved solely for the boy on the bed.

He kneels down by the bed, his eyes tracing the features of his brother’s still face. It’s been so long since they’ve been this close, five years, and their confrontation at the hotel didn’t exactly give Itachi the time to look at him.

(Hand around his throat. Leaning in close, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips. “You don’t have enough hatred—")

His face is so still—almost peaceful. No hint of the horror unfolding behind his eyes. It’s somehow worse than if he had looked to be in pain.

Itachi's gaze catches on the black tattoo peaking out from the collar of Sasuke’s shirt—the same one he caught a glimpse of two weeks ago. His jaw tightens.

Anger flashes through him, but he quickly pushes it away. Orochimaru is a problem for a different time.

Itachi's Sharingan activates. He sees Kakashi tense at his left, but Jiraiya places a hand on his shoulder.

He lifts his brother’s eyelid. Preparing himself for the scene he knows will greet him, his Sharingan whirls, then locks with Sasuke’s eye.

The hospital room falls away, and the familiar landscape materializes around him. Wooden floorboards beneath his feet, the smell of blood strong in the air. His parents kneeling, their heads down.

“Foolish little brother—”

Itachi barely resists wincing at the sound of his own voice—cold and cruel and echoing. He blocks out the sounds behind him, doesn’t flinch as he hears the bodies thud against the ground. He looks for Sasuke.

He’s sitting in the corner of the room, seven years old and not a minute older than he was on that night. Itachi ignores the brief stutter to his heart, the sharp pain in his chest, and walks over to him.

He lowers himself down in front of him slowly, as if approaching a skittish cat. Sasuke doesn’t react. He doesn’t even seem to see him.

It takes a mere thought from Itachi to halt the reenactment behind him. His parents' bodies fade away, leaving only an empty room.

Sasuke’s eyes don’t so much as flicker. There are dried tear tracks on his cheeks, but he isn’t crying, not anymore. He just looks blank. Vacant-eyed.

The expression causes a sharp fear to flare in Itachi’s heart. Thirteen days. What if it was too much? What if he’s too late?

This isn’t what he meant to happen. He wanted to push Sasuke to the edge—he never meant to shove him over it.

The mask falls from Itachi’s eyes, revealing the sorrow beneath. His brother’s eyes are dull and lifeless, and somehow it’s even worse than that night, because at least there was a fight in him then. There isn’t now.

Thirteen days.

Itachi looks at the young version of his brother—so heartbreakingly familiar—and the anguish in his chest burns so brightly that it chokes him.

“Sasuke,” he says softly. “I know you won’t believe me. But I need you to know…”

Fingertips reach out, brushing the tears gently from the child's cheeks. He places his hand beneath his brother’s chin, guiding his gaze up.

“…I’m so sorry I ever did this to you.”

The tomoe in Itachi’s eyes morph into a curved shuriken. Itachi grabs hold of the genjutsu, and he rips it apart.

Chapter Text

His entire world is painted red. He thinks that maybe it’s always been red.

Red walls. Red ceiling. Red floors. Red sky. Red on his skin and collecting beneath his feet. Red staring out at him from pinwheel eyes, a cold voice and bloody hands.

Dripping, splashing, ripping, tearing, bleeding—

(pleasestopdon'twanttoseewhyareyoushowingme)

Red. Everything red. He’s forgotten what other colors look like.

He’s forgotten the sky isn’t supposed to be crimson, that the ground isn’t meant to be seeped in scarlet. He’s forgotten what the floor looks like without the blood staining it, forgotten what his hands look like once they’re washed clean.

(yourfaultyoudidthistooweaktosavethem)

The screams are deafening. He thinks his hands are covering his ears. He isn’t sure. Maybe they’re on his knees. In his hair. On the floor, scraping against the floorboards.

He thinks his eyes are closed. Or maybe they’re open. It doesn’t matter either way, because he sees the same thing. Hears the same thing.

Blood. Screams. Bodies hitting the ground.

The smell of it invades his nose. He chokes on it.

(red red red everywhere)

His father is in front of him, blood on his lips. His mother’s throat is gaping, fragments of bone poking out. A woman whose fingers grip the grass beneath her, as stainless steel slices through her back. A man in a Police Force uniform, his head twenty feet from his legs.

A child backed against the wall in terror, tears dripping down her cheeks. Itachi-niisan, what are you—

Slice. Scream. Thud.

(motherfatherauntieunclecousin)

He doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He feels like he should. But he doesn’t know the lifeless eyes staring back at him, the stiff expressions, and maybe that’s a good thing, maybe that’s better, because watching the bodies fall hurts enough without being able to put a name to them—

(hazukiyashiroinabikoemi)

Red. It drips from the walls and sinks into the floor. It paints the sky the shade of blood, rains down on him from above.

(stopwhypleasedon'tkill)

He wonders if he is dead, for surely this must be Izanami’s realm.

(you’renotevenworthkilling)

The screaming fills his head, invades his ears. It sinks into his bones, carves itself into his brain. A cold, cruel voice, the slice of a blade through air, the crunch of sinew and muscle, and above it all, that man—

That man. Who is that man again?

(nii-sananikibrotheritachi)

(alwaysgoingtobethereforyouwon'tletanythinghappentoyouhaveactedliketheolderbrotheryoudesired)

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. All that he knows is the screaming.

And the red. So, so, so much red.

(no please nii-san don’t kill)

Nii-san. Yes. That man is his brother. That man is his brother and he loveshatesisterrified—

(runclingtoyourwretchedlifehavethesameeyesnotevenworthkilling)

His mother crawls toward him, dragging her body across the wooden floor. Her neck is a mess of broken bone and skin. She holds bloody fingers out toward him.

“Sasuke-kun…” Her breath gurgles, blood spilling down her chin. “Why didn’t… you save… us…”

He whimpers, slamming his eyes closed. His hands press tightly against his ears. A sob escapes his lips, and he presses his face against his knees.

Stop. Stop, stop, stop, Nii-san please stop—

There’s a strange sensation against his skin. Blood? No, touch. Fingers brushing his cheek. He opens his eyes.

Familiar pinwheel eyes, whirling and drowning in blood. Words that float away, refusing to reach him.

“… so sorry…”

Everything is wrenched away, and the world explodes into light.

Sasuke’s eyes snap open with a gasp, and he chokes on the coppery scent of blood. He sees his mother’s fingers reaching toward him, pleading, hears her screams in his ears, and he wakes with a cry of her name on his lips.

“Kaa-san—!”

There is a hand on his shoulder. The smell of iron is replaced with ammonia. Red is replaced with white.

“Sasuke,” someone says.

The world spins and dips and twists. The blood in his nose, in his mouth, mingles with the smell of antiseptic, and the red coating his vision merges with the white.

He struggles to grasp something. To understand.

(screamingscreamingscreamingpleasestop)

There’s a hand on his shoulder. Sasuke’s panicked gaze snaps up, meeting a pair of familiar eyes.

The Mangekyou Sharingan.

(foolishlittlebrothertotestthelimitsofmyabilityialmostpityyouitwasnecessary)

Long, dark hair. A face with deep groove lines beneath the eyes. A slashed Konoha headband.

(notevenworthkillinghaveactedliketheolderbrotheryoudisireditwasallformyownsakefoolishlittlebrotheronedaywhenyouhavethesameeyes)

Everything falls away. White bleeds into red, and nothing exists except the weight of those eyes. That pattern. That gaze.

(foolishlittlebrotherialmostpityyou)

(fleeclingtoyourwretchedlifesurvivinginsuchanunsightlymanner)

(you’restilltooweakyoudon'thaveenoughhate)

(nii-sanfatherandmotherareboth)

(stopnii-sanstoppleasewhyareyoushowingmethiswhy)

(you'vebeenjealousofmeandresentedmeyou'veharboredhopesofsurpassingme)

(thisisaliethisisn'tyounii-sanidon'tunderstand)

(goawayyoudon'tinterestmeatthemoment)

(i'malwaysgoingtobethereforyouevenifit'sjustasanobstacleforyoutoovercome)

(stopstopstopnii-sanpleasestopwhy)

(onedaywhenyouhavethesameeyescomebackandfaceme)

(that’swhatbigbrothersarefor)

He’s blind with panic, with rage, with fear. But mostly, he’s blind with emotion. All he can see are those damned eyes, and he lashes out blindly. No, no, no, no, no, get away—

He sees their bodies falling, thudding. He sees the blood splash against the wall, their faces twisted in anguish and terror. He hears their screams.

His mother and father kneeling, their heads bowed. A sword raised above their heads. Aunt Naori shaking her head, crying out her disbelief even as she raises her sword. Shuriken flying through the air, hitting each target dead in the center of the chest.

Shisui’s little sister pressed against the wall, tears streaking her face. Itachi-niisan, what are you—

The sharp whoosh of a blade cutting through air—

He kicks with his feet, bangs his arm against something, causing white-hot pain to spark through him. There are hands on his shoulders, his arms, holding him down, and he fights against them. All he can see are those eyes, all he can hear are their screams—

Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop—

“Get him out of here now!” someone yells.

There are noises. Footsteps. Voices. A door. There’s a hand on his shoulder, against his arm, under his chin, and Sasuke flinches away, hearing nothing but screams. Feeling nothing but the blood against his skin and the wooden floor beneath his cheek.

There’s someone trying to speak to him, a familiar voice, but all Sasuke can hear is Itachi.

(youareweakyouareweakyouareweakyouareweak)

“No—no—”

There’s a sharp pinch in his neck. His mind becomes fuzzy and unfocused, his body becoming heavy. A sudden exhaustion crashes over him, digs its claws into his brain, fighting to drag him down.

Sasuke lets the darkness take him.

Kakashi leaps into action the moment Sasuke panics.

He grabs Itachi by the back of his cloak, yanking him away from the bed. He pins his thrashing student to the cot, wincing as a foot catches him in the ribs, and tries to prevent him from crashing to the floor.

The Sharingan in Itachi’s eyes have faded. Jiraiya drags him quickly from the room.

His hands on Sasuke’s arms are going to cause bruises. Kakashi tries to be more gentle, but Sasuke is struggling so much that it’s impossible. He lashes out with his foot again, hitting the metal frame of the bed hard. He twists his head to the side, tries to kick Kakashi away.

Kakashi tries to get his student's attention, tries to get him to focus, but it’s no use. Sasuke’s eyes are clouded, completely unaware. The sight of Itachi’s Sharingan, the moment after waking, sent him spiraling.

In his panic, Sasuke gasps out the word mom. Kakashi’s heart breaks.

“Move,” Tsunade says. She tries to push him aside, and when he doesn’t move, she barks at him louder, “Kakashi, move!”

Kakashi obeys. Tsunade shoves him aside, and there’s a quick flash of metal. Needle, Kakashi registers, and before he can open his mouth to protest, the deed is done.

Sasuke’s struggles stop. He drops back into sleep.

Kakashi releases his student’s arms, pulling away. He gives the Godaime a narrow look.

“Was that really necessary?” he asks.

Tsunade gives him an unimpressed look. “He wasn’t calming down, and you pinning him like that was only making him worse. He would have ended up hurting himself.”

Kakashi presses his mouth into a thin line, looking down at his unconscious student. He knows that she’s right; he’s just desperate for Sasuke to wake up, to open his eyes and confirm that he’s no longer trapped in a hell.

“Itachi’s presence, immediately after being broken from the genjutsu, is clearly what triggered such a violent reaction,” Tsunade says. “When he wakes again, he should be calmer.”

Kakashi stares down at the kid, his heart clenching in his chest. Sasuke’s head is turned to the side, and his hair has fallen into his face. Kakashi reaches out a hand to brush it away.

He hopes that Sasuke’s sleep is dreamless.

“What’s going to happen with Itachi?” he asks.

“He won’t be going near Sasuke anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

Kakashi grimaces slightly, his gaze not leaving his student. “Sasuke won’t like that.”

“Well, he’ll have to deal with it,” Tsunade replies. “There’s no way I’m letting them in the same room. Sasuke’s psychological state is extremely fragile right now, that much is obvious even without a proper evaluation. And Itachi is clearly a trigger for him.”

Itachi’s always been a trigger for him, he thinks, but his jaw tightens slightly. He knows what she means. He knows this is different.

He knows the same way his own Chidori still causes him to freeze sometimes, the memory of brown hair and bloody lips. Ka-ka-shi. The way the feeling of blood on his hands still makes him unable to breathe, makes him want to scrub and scrub until his skin is red and cracked. Ka-ka-shi.

He knows in the way he still wakes up screaming, Obito’s eye burning in his skull.

“We’ll put him in one of our cells,” Tsunade says. “He holds valuable intel on the Akatsuki. I don’t expect he’ll talk willingly, but I’ll attempt to speak with him before sending in a member of Torture and Interrogation.”

“He was ANBU,” Kakashi reminds her—tries very hard not to think of that young teenage boy in the cat mask. “He will resist you.”

“He will try.”

Kakashi sighs and doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know if she’s underestimating Itachi or if he’s overestimating him.

“Go,” Tsunade tells him, motioning toward the door. “I’ll place guards in front of the room. You’ll be informed as soon as he wakes up.”

Kakashi obeys without protest, but only because he knows that Naruto is still waiting for him just outside. Kakashi’s honestly surprised that he hasn’t tried to burst back in by now.

Kakashi leaves the Godaime with his student, shutting the door behind him. Naruto jumps on him the moment he emerges, before he has even turned.

“Kakashi-sensei!” he yells. “What happened? Is Sasuke alright? I heard him yelling, but then he stopped—and Pervy Sage was dragging Itachi down the hallway and wouldn’t tell me what was going on—"

Kakashi halts the outpour of words with a raised hand. To his surprise, Naruto actually listens, falling silent.

“Everything is okay. Itachi’s presence in the room caused Sasuke to panic, so we were forced to sedate him.”

“That doesn’t sound okay.” Naruto’s frown deepens. “You mean he’s asleep again? So I can’t talk to him?”

“Not yet,” Kakashi tells him. “The sedative will only last a few hours, and he should be calmer when he wakes up. But even then, we’re not sure what sort of state he’ll be in. I’ll need to talk with him before he has any visitors.”

Kakashi watches Naruto’s face drop. He wishes Naruto wouldn’t look at him like that—his eyes are Minato's eyes, and seeing the disappointment in them makes his chest ache.

“Fine,” Naruto huffs, though he’s clearly unhappy. “What about Sasuke's brother? What’s happening with him?”

Kakashi narrows his eyes at the intent he hears behind the question. “You aren’t to go anywhere near him,” he says firmly. “Do I make myself clear?”

This seems to catch Naruto slightly off guard—it’s not often that Kakashi takes such a stern tone with his students.

“I wasn’t going to,” the boy mutters.

It’s a lie. Kakashi’s face becomes even sterner.

“Naruto, I mean it,” he stresses. “You’re what the Akatsuki is after. You are to stay away from Itachi.”

“I know!” Naruto yells. “I get it, alright! Jeez!”

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing and glaring up at his sensei. Kakashi watches him closely, allows some of his sternness to melt.

“Good. Now where’s Sakura?”

Naruto shrugs. “I don’t know. Her house, probably? She says her parents have been super hover-y since the whole thing where she almost died. She thinks she kind of freaked them out.”

Kakashi frowns. Almost died? Did Naruto mean Gaara? “That was weeks ago. Why are they only worried now?”

“Weeks?” Naruto repeats, looking slightly confused. “I’m talking about a couple days ago. You know, with the Sound Ninja.”

No, Kakashi most certainly doesn’t know.

“What Sound Ninja?” he says sharply, straightening slightly in alarm. “What are you talking about?”

“The old lady didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what, Naruto?”

Naruto tells him. Kakashi listens, and his jaw tightens. His teeth clench. Sakura almost died—would have died, if Gai hadn’t been there. And Sasuke was almost taken to Otogakure. He almost lost two of his students, and Tsunade hadn’t seen reason to tell him.

Kakashi reminds himself that he just got here, and pushes down his anger. In light of everything that happened in that room, it’s not unreasonable that other things might slip Tsunade’s mind.

“And speaking of Orochimaru,” Naruto says, as he finishes up the story, “how come you never told me he was after Sasuke, huh? Don’t you think that’s something I should know about?”

Kakashi winces at the accusation in his voice. “You’re right. I should have told you.”

The curse mark, along with Orochimaru’s interest in Sasuke, was meant to be kept secret. But all three of his students were present in that forest that day, and he knew that Sakura already knew about it. He should have sat them down after the second exam to talk with them about it.

“How is Sakura now?” he asks. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Tsunade-obaasan healed her.”

Kakashi frowns. “Naruto, don’t call the Hokage that.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go see Sakura-chan and tell her Sasuke’s awake. Or, that he will be awake, I guess.”

Kakashi hesitates, torn between making sure she’s really okay and staying here with Sasuke. “I can go to Sakura’s. I should make sure she’s okay.”

Naruto rolls his eyes. “Kakashi-sensei, I told you she’s fine. What’s with you lately? Seriously, why are you suddenly so worried?”

Because I wasn’t paying enough attention before, Kakashi thinks. Because that was a mistake. Because I’m trying to do better.

“My student almost died,” he says instead. “The other one has spent over two weeks in a coma. I think that’s enough grounds for me to be worried.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s still weird, though.” Naruto scuffs at the ground with his foot, then looks back up at his teacher. “Hey, Sensei? Do you think Sasuke’s going to be alright?”

Kakashi looks at him, and his heart aches. His hair and eyes are a copy of Minato, but the hope on his face is all Kushina's, and Kakashi can’t bear to say anything that might crush it. Can’t bear to let him down.

And so, in a moment of utter foolishness, Kakashi smiles at him and promises, “Don’t worry, Naruto. Everything is going to be okay. Sasuke will be back to his old self soon.”

Naruto looks at him for a moment, but then he smiles. “Of course he will be,” he agrees. “It’s Sasuke, after all!”

Kakashi nods, and tries not to feel too guilty for what he knows will most likely be a lie.

Everything is going to be okay. Sasuke will be okay.

He wonders who he’s trying to convince—Naruto or himself.

Chapter Text

One.

Sakura breathes in slowly, then breathes out. She keeps her eyes closed, her hands on her crossed legs, as she begins to count her breaths.

Two.

She tries to clear her mind, to empty her head of all thoughts. She’s normally good at that, at making her brain be quiet, but she’s finding it difficult this time. Her head is swirling with worries and anxieties and fears. They won’t leave her alone.

Three.

She can feel the steady beat of her heart in her chest. She attempts to focus on it, to allow it to center her, but instead of calming her, this has the opposite effect. She becomes unsettlingly aware of her own heartbeat—how fragile it feels, how easy it would be for it to stop or skip a beat.

She’s been very aware of her own heartbeat lately. Ever since the four Sound ninjas attacked her at the hospital. She remembers the feeling of the cold floor against her cheek, the taste of blood in her mouth. She remembers the stutter of her heart against her ribs, knowing with utter certainty that she was about to die.

She feels it now in her chest. The memory causes her heartbeat to stutter. Her breath catches.

Four.

It scares her—how easily that beat could stop. Her life is unbelievably fragile, and she’s aware of this in a way she wasn’t before. It terrifies her. She can’t stop thinking it, feeling it. Her hands shake against her knees.

And she can’t stop thinking about Sasuke, either. About how fragile he looked. He has always been so strong to her, and now suddenly he is breakable. So, so breakable, and she can do nothing to help him. Nothing to protect him.

She can’t do anything. She’s always being saved.

Five.

She takes another breath—inhaling slowly, exhaling at the same pace. She tries, again, to empty her mind. To focus her thoughts. She ignores the slight twinge of her wounds, concentrating on her breaths.

She doesn’t think about Sasuke. She tries not to think about Sasuke.

Six—

A knock comes at her door, breaking her from her calm the moment she finally manages to find it. Her eyes open as her father peeks his head in, and she feels a sharp spike of annoyance at the interruption.

“Sweetheart, your—” Her father frowns when his gaze lands on her, his sentence dropping off. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“I was meditating.” She tries to tamp down her irritation, but some of it still bleeds through to her voice. “It helps speed up the healing process.”

Her father gets a pinched look on his face at a reminder of her injuries. Sakura would feel more guilty about bringing it up, if she wasn’t so sick and tired of all the hovering her parents had been doing since it happened.

It’s not like this is the first time I nearly died.

“What is it?” she asks, still not moving from her position on the floor. “Does Mom want something?”

Her father shakes his head. “No, your friend Naruto is here. He’s looking for you.”

Sakura blinks in surprise. “Naruto? He’s here?”

“Did you want me to send him in?”

Sakura nods. “Please,” she says, as she feels her anxiety ratchet up. Why is Naruto here? Has something happened with Sasuke?

Her father ducks out of the doorway. He has a displeased, almost wary expression on his face. It’s the same expression he and her mother wore when she invited Naruto over for dinner—the same expression most of the villagers wear. As if Naruto is some type of nuke, and no one ever wants to get too close for fear of it going off.

Sakura doesn’t understand it. She tried to ask her mother about it, but all she got was a vague non-answer.

Sakura rises to her feet. She winces as the movement jostles her injuries, pressing a hand against her bruised ribs. A second later, the door is flung open, nearly hitting the opposite wall, and Naruto enters.

“Sakura-chan!” he yells. When his gaze finds her, some of his exuberance fades, replaced by concern. “Hey. Are you okay?”

She waves the question off, giving him a smile. “I’m okay. I’m still a bit sore, is all. What are you doing here?”

Naruto flounces past her. He throws himself onto her bed, making himself completely at home, as if he’s been in her room a hundred times instead of just once. “Sasuke is awake,” he declares.

Sakura feels her heart stutter in her chest. Her eyes widen. “What? When?”

“Not too long ago. Kakashi-sensei and Pervy Sage came to the hospital with Itachi. Then they kicked me out, which was totally not cool, but Sasuke’s awake now. Or at least, he’s out of whatever freaky vision-thing he was stuck in.”

“A genjutsu, Naruto.”

“Whatever! The point is, he’s out of it now. Kakashi-sensei says he’s gonna be okay.”

Sakura’s heart is beating loudly in her chest. She’s flooded with a burst of feelings. The abundance of her relief makes her feel momentarily weightless, like she could jump off the ground and fly if she wanted. It feels like a gigantic, pressing weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

He's okay, she thinks, feeling the smile pulling at her lips. Sasuke-kun’s okay.

“That’s wonderful!” Sakura says. “How is he? Did you talk to him?”

Naruto shakes his head. “No, he’s asleep again. Kakashi-sensei said they had to sedate him.”

“Oh,” Sakura says quietly. She feels some of her happiness fade at the words—at the troubled expression on her teammate’s face. “But… Kakashi-sensei said he was okay, right?”

Naruto’s face pinches slightly, his blue eyes cloudy as he stares up at her ceiling. Sakura feels her smile pulling into a frown.

“Naruto? He is okay, right?”

“I don’t know,” Naruto admits. “I trust what Kakashi-sensei says, but…” The blonde trails off, shaking his head. “Ugh, I don’t know. I just wish I knew what exactly happened. Or better, I wish I could talk to that bastard myself! Give him a piece of my mind!”

Sakura frowns. Itachi Uchiha is still just a name to her, but she also has a desire to seek him out. To put a face to the name that hurt Sasuke-kun so badly, so that she is able to hate him properly.

“What happened to him after?” she asks. “Itachi?”

“I don’t know. I guess they’ll probably lock him up? Kakashi-sensei wouldn’t answer any of my questions, he just kept telling me to stay away from him.”

Sakura narrows her eyes when she sees the look on his face. She sighs. “You’re not going to listen to him, are you?”

Naruto sits up suddenly, glaring at her from the bed. “Of course not! No one is telling me a single damn thing. I was the one they were coming after. I deserve some answers!”

She pauses when she hears that, as the question she’s had for a while now resurfaces. She asked Kakashi-sensei about it after it happened, but his answer had never completely satisfied her. There had been too many holes, too many things that still failed to make sense.

“Why was he after you, Naruto?”

Naruto freezes, an expression like a startled deer passing over his face. “I—um—that’s—uh—”

Sakura gives him a sharp look, halting his stuttering. “I’m not stupid, Naruto. There’s something else going on here, right? Kakashi-sensei said that Sasuke-kun’s brother went after you to get to Sasuke-kun. But I was already in the village, so I was a much closer target. Instead, Itachi chose to go outside the village. That doesn’t make sense if his only goal was just to hurt Sasuke-kun.”

Naruto avoids her eyes. He’s a horrible liar even when he’s not actively speaking.

“Itachi was after you specifically,” Sakura says. “Why, Naruto?”

Naruto tries the avoiding-eyes tactic for a few more seconds before realizing that Sakura’s going to make him actually respond. He sighs. “Look, I can’t tell you, Sakura-chan, okay? It’s not because I don’t want to! But it’s an S-Rank secret, and I’m not supposed to tell anyone!”

Sakura’s mind is whirling with questions. An S-Rank secret? One that Naruto can’t tell her about? What could it possibly be, and how does Itachi Uchiha connect? She doesn’t understand why, but it’s becoming clear to her now that there’s way more to this than she knows. Naruto and Kakashi are keeping secrets from her, and perhaps Sasuke as well.

She frowns at him, trying to organize her thoughts. “Does this have anything to do with how the rest of the village treats you?”

Naruto flinches slightly. He lowers his gaze. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s about that.”

Sakura looks at him, at his downtrodden expression. She wants to say something to make him feel better, but she doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t know what it’s about. Why do the adults in the village treat Naruto like scum? Why do her own parents look so uncomfortable when she mentions his name?

Sakura sighs, accepting her lack of answers. For now, anyway. “So what are you going to do, then?”

“Get answers,” Naruto declares, with a determined set to his jaw. “If Kakashi-sensei and Pervy Sage don’t want to tell me anything, then I’ll have to go straight to the source.”

Sakura nods. Once again, she feels the beat of her own heart against her ribs, rapid and fragile.

“I’ll come with you,” she says.

Itachi doesn’t acknowledge her when she enters the interrogation room. Tsunade slides into the chair across from him, and he still doesn’t look up.

“Uchiha-san,” she greets him. “I hope you find you find your accommodations to be to your liking.”

He doesn’t respond. His hands are clasped in front of him, cuffs tight around his wrists. A chain connects the cuffs to the center of the table, allowing him little room for movement. The light glow of the seals engraved on the metal signify that the cuffs are active, prohibiting the flow of his chakra.

His hair shadows his face, falling from its tie. She wonders if it bothers him that he can’t fix it.

“You’re a former shinobi of Konoha,” she says, giving a pointed look to his slashed hitai-ate. “And a former member of ANBU, so you already know the procedure for these types of situations.”

Itachi doesn’t react. Tsunade’s jaw clenches.

“I assume you don’t need me to remind you of your rights,” she tells him coldly. “Of the fact that you have none.”

Itachi finally raises his head to look at her. His expression is blank.

“I’m a traitor to Konoha,” he says. “Standard procedure regarding traitors is to eliminate them. The fact that I’ve been taken to an interrogation room instead of an execution block can only mean that you plan to extract intel from me.”

Tsunade’s expression doesn’t shift. “Konohagakure doesn’t perform executions anymore.”

“Not publicly.”

Tsunade’s mouth thins. She clasps her hands in front of her, a mimicry of Itachi’s current position.

“We know that your group the Akatsuki is after the Tailed Beasts,” she says. “What we don’t know is why.” She pauses, then asks in an icy voice, “I assume it was you that fed them the information that Naruto was the jinchuuriki?”

“You assume right,” Itachi replies.

His voice gives nothing away. He admits to his treason unflinchingly, unapologetically. Tsunade feels her hands tighten.

“And your organization’s goal? Care to shed any light on that subject? Its other members, their abilities?”

Tsunade doesn’t expect him to spill any of the information he holds, so she is entirely unsurprised when he doesn’t answer her. He raises his chin, his eyes still infuriatingly blank.

“Your questions are pointless. I will not betray the Akatsuki.”

Tsunade raises an eyebrow. “Really? Forgive me if I don’t take you for the loyal type.”

She gives another pointed look toward his headband when she says this—the slashed line bisecting the symbol evidence of his betrayal. Something flashes in Itachi’s eyes, the slightest hint of an emotion, but it’s gone before she can pin it down.

Still, she saw it. For the briefest moment, Itachi Uchiha reacted.

Interesting.

“You know how this works, Uchiha,” she tells him. “Me coming in here and asking you is just a courtesy. If you refuse to cooperate willing, then you will do so unwillingly. If you won’t talk to me, then you can deal with Torture and Interrogation. And they won’t be nearly as considerate as I’m being right now.”

She thinks she sees Itachi’s jaw tense slightly, but she isn’t sure. She knows Itachi was ANBU—that he was trained to resist mental interrogation. But he’s still only a teenager, and given enough time, Tsunade doesn’t doubt that Ibiki will succeed in prying information out of him.

Itachi doesn’t reply. Tsunade finds herself searching for something to get him to react, something that will shake that unbreakable coldness.

“Kakashi is under the impression that you let yourself be captured and brought back here,” she says. “Is this true?”

“Kakashi-san can assume whatever he likes,” the boy replies—because that’s what he is, a boy, he’s not even old enough to drink, fucking hell— “It doesn’t matter to me.”

Still reeling from the sudden reminder of how young the Akatsuki member in front of her is, Tsunade takes careful note of the fact that he never denied the words. The use of an honorific also catches her off guard—it strikes her as strange that he should be so polite.

There’s a slight familiarity in his tone. It strikes her then that the two of them were in ANBU at the same time.

“If you did intend to be captured, then the only logical reasoning I can come up with for you doing such a thing would be because you wanted to wake up your brother. This suggests you care for him. Interesting, considering all your other actions seem to suggest otherwise.”

There. She spots it again. A flicker of emotion in his eyes, clearly a reaction to her words. A reaction to Sasuke.

But once again, it disappears. Gone too fast for her to read.

“I don’t care what happens to Sasuke. He doesn’t interest me.”

“But you left him alive the night of the massacre,” she points out—it’s something she’s been wondering about ever since she read the file on the event. “Seems like a strange thing to do if you truly care nothing for him.”

He left his little brother alive that night, after all. And two weeks ago, he left him alive again. Surely that suggests some type of attachment?

“I left him alive because I wanted a worthy opponent,” Itachi says. “As he is now, he is worthless to me. But he has potential. I did not spare him out of kindness, I did it for my own benefit.”

It strikes Tsunade as odd that he is saying so much—that he is being so open about her questions. Then she cottons on to what he’s doing—that he’s been leading this conversation from the moment he opened his mouth, every freely-given word creating a smoke-screen of honesty.

Itachi hasn’t actually given her any information at all. Everything he has told her is nothing she doesn’t already know. He’s talking, yes, but he hasn’t actually answered anything. He’s only made it seem to her that he has.

Tsunade narrows her eyes when she realizes this. Genius, she reminds herself. Be careful.

“After the massacre, Sasuke told the Sandaime that you claimed to have killed your clan as a way to measure your own abilities. Was it really for so simple a reason? Their lives were really so meaningless to you?”

“What they meant to me is irrelevant,” Itachi responds. “Their deaths were necessary to test my strength. That is all.”

The look in his eyes reminds her of the corpses she’s seen on the battlefield—no light and no emotion. She’s never seen it on a living person.

How much of your own soul must you kill, she wonders, to look so utterly dead?

The message he’s trying to communicate is clear. I killed them to see if I could. There is no deeper meaning. Stop looking for one.

And yet, something about the explanation bothers her. It feels too simple, too contrived. Something about it feels wrong.

I left him alive because I wanted a worthy opponent. No. That answer has a million holes. There’s something else going on here, and Tsunade gets the sudden feeling that she’s skating the outskirts of something big. Something dangerous.

(You’re playing a dangerous game, Danzo had told her.)

The silence lengthens, and neither of them speaks. Finally, Itachi drops his gaze to table in front of him, asking, “How is Sasuke?”

  “I thought you didn’t care?”

Itachi’s clasped fingers tighten slightly. He doesn’t respond.

Tsunade slides back her chair, standing up. “I’ll tell you what,” she says. “I’ll leave you here to think about your options. When I come back, depending on what you decide, maybe I’ll let you know how your brother is doing.”

She walks to the door, opening it up. She glances back at him before she exits; he still hasn’t raised his head.

“You can cooperate willingly, or you can be forced to. The choice is yours.”

She exits the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. She sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. That conversation gave her just what she expected—nothing. It seems she would have to do this the hard way.

Tsunade frowns, thinking about the last few words they exchanged. For a moment, he seemed almost concerned. But then why—

“Ow! Naruto!”

Tsunade straightens the moment she hears the sharp hiss, coming just to her left. Her eyes narrow.

“That was my foot, you moron!”

“Well, don’t stop in the middle of the hallway then—”

Tsunade turns the corner of the hallway, her hands on her hips and her face set in a fierce scowl. The two genin freeze the moment they see her, falling silent as they stare at her with wide eyes.

“Oh shit,” Naruto says.

“I hate you,” Sakura sighs.

Naruto makes an indignant face, turning to look at his partner-in-crime, but Tsunade cuts him off before he can speak, causing his head to snap right back around to her.

“What the hell do the two of you think you’re doing!?”

The young kunoichi shrinks under the harsh words, already looking deeply chastised. Naruto, on the other hand, puffs up indignantly. “Going to talk to Itachi,” he says. “What does it look like, Obaasan?”

Next to him, Sakura makes a strangled noise. Tsunade feels her eyebrow twitch.

“Show some respect, brat! And like hell you are!”

The nerve of this child—and the stupidity—continues to shock her. The Akatsuki are after him. Is he really so foolish as to try and place himself alone in a room with one of its members? Itachi may be chained down, but that doesn’t mean Naruto should walk himself out in front of him like a gift basket.

“I don’t want either of you anywhere near here, understand?”

Naruto grits his teeth. His eyes spark. “No one is telling me anything!” he yells. “Not about Sasuke, and not about why these damn Akatsuki guys are after me! I deserve answers, and if you aren’t going to give them to me—”

“Did it ever occur to you,” Tsunade snaps, “that we don’t know either?” Naruto falls silent in surprise, and Tsunade continues, “We don’t know what they want with you! We don’t what their goal is! That’s what we are trying to figure out, so why don’t you let us do our jobs instead of interfering left and right!”

The two of them are silent. Naruto looks slightly uncomfortable now.

“You really don’t know what they want with me?” he asks.

“No,” she admits. “I don’t.”

Both of them are quiet, shifting their feet slightly. Sakura bows her head, muttering an apology under her breath.

Tsunade sighs. She steps toward them, spinning the two of them around and pushing them forward the way they came. “Come on, you two brats. Get out of here.”

Kisame expected that Madara wouldn’t be happy that Itachi was captured. He hadn’t expected him to order him killed.

“Killed?” Kisame repeats. “Is that not a bit extreme?”

The two of them are alone in one of the Akatsuki hideouts. Madara is wearing a mask to conceal his face, though there is really no point, since Kisame is the only one present. Itachi has been in Konoha’s hands for a couple days now, but Kisame isn’t worried. He’s fairly certain Itachi let himself be captured—clearly because he cares about that little brother of his.

Itachi would never admit to caring about the kid. But Kisame isn’t blind. He saw the way Itachi pummeled the kid in that hotel hallway. It was personal in a way that Kisame had never seen his partner be with anyone else.

“He holds vital information about the Akatsuki and its members,” Madara tells him. “We can’t afford any of that to get out. Eliminating him is the only option.”

“Itachi isn’t the type of man to spill our secrets,” Kisame points out. “And he isn’t aware of your endgame, anyway.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Madara says. “The intel he holds is still too valuable. The risk he presents to us is too great, especially if he chooses to ally with the Leaf.”

Kisame’s mouth turns down in a confused frown at these words, wondering why his partner would ever ally with Konoha. Kisame always suspected that Itachi secretly cared for his brother, and his earlier actions proved this, but he failed to see why Madara was so convinced Itachi would betray them for the village he left behind.

“He’s become a threat to our organization,” the masked man says. “You need to take him out.”

Kisame considers this for a moment. Disregarding whether or not he was capable of killing someone as strong as his partner… did he want to?

“Sorry,” Kisame says lightly. “But I think I’ll take a pass.”

Madara straightens in surprise. Kisame thinks he sees his eye narrow behind the mask. “Pardon?”

Kisame thinks about that young kid he first met on the end of the dock—no older than fourteen, but with blood already dripping from his hands. There had been no trust between them—not then—but he had felt a kinship with him the moment they had spoken.

He thinks of standing at the boy’s back, Samaheda level with his shoulder, warning him to be wary. Warning him to tread carefully. Now, Kisame thinks about the order he has been given, and he feels strangely reluctant.

He would have done it, four years ago. But something has changed since then, and the thought of slicing through his partner with his sword no longer brings with it the same relish that it once did.

“I won’t kill Itachi,” Kisame tells him. “I won’t stop anyone else from trying to do it, but I won’t do it myself.”

The Uchiha gazes at him with a sharp red eye. “Is this loyalty you’re displaying, Kisame? It is quite unlike you.”

“Perhaps I’ve grown a conscience,” he says. “Or perhaps I simply value my own life. Either way, I won’t do it.”

“I believe you’ll change your mind about that.”

Kisame narrows his eyes. “Do you? What makes you so certain?”

“Because I know how much you hate liars,” Madara responds. “And Itachi Uchiha is the biggest one of them all.”

Chapter Text

Sasuke wakes up slowly. The light stings his eyes as he blinks them open.

The ceiling above him is white. This feels wrong for some reason. The room is quiet, smelling faintly of ammonia. This also seems wrong.

His mind is hazy. Fragments of thought float through his brain, slipping through his fingers. It feels like being at the bottom of a dark hole, with only his fingernails to claw his way up. Nothing makes sense, and the light around him burns.

He blinks, and the ceiling above him turns red. He blinks again, and it's back to white.

He takes a breath, slow and shaky, and moves the fingers of one of his hands. His muscles feel like pins and needles, and it makes him wince. He struggles to move his arm and get his hand beneath him, to push himself up. His entire body is weak.

He attempts to move his other arm, and immediately winces as pain shoots from his wrist to his elbow. There's a faint bruising around his wrist. Broken.

It sparks a memory—a flash of blue lightning, a harsh snap. But it slips away before Sasuke can grab onto it.

He squints his eyes, the light still unbearably bright. There's a figure in the chair by his bed, a book in their hand, and Sasuke has to blink a few times to properly make them out.

"Kakashi?"

His voice is hoarse and scratchy, and it hurts when he speaks. Kakashi startles, the book slipping from his fingers. He catches it before it hits the floor.

"Sasuke!" The man straightens in his seat, focusing on him. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

Sasuke isn't sure how to answer that. His mind is blurry, and he doesn't know what he's woken up to. He registers the hospital bed that he's laying in, the IV that is taped into his arm. He frowns.

"Confused," he answers. Once again, speaking hurts. "What happened?"

Kakashi looks at him cautiously. "What do you remember?"

Sasuke pauses, trying to make his muddied thoughts crystallize. What is the last thing he remembers? Running—a long hallway-hatred burning hot in his veins, pain—

Itachi.

Blood-red eyes cut through his memory, and all of it floods back. Sasuke's breath catches, his heart stopping, stuck in the memory of a hand at his throat. His mind falls away from him.

(Foolish little brother—)

Blood on the floorboards and spilling from the sky. Staining his nails, his fingers, his hands. His father's eyes, his mother's face, his brother's voice—

(Foolish little brother—)

Screaming in his ears. His mother's fingers reaching. Blood, blood, blood, in his nose, on his skin, he can smell it, feel it, taste it—

He gags on it, chokes, bile rising in his throat. He leans over, feels it dribble past his lips, his throat burning. There's a hand on his back, a voice in his ear, and Sasuke gasps through the smell, through the taste, blood blood blood—

(Foolish little brother-)

The hand on his back is warm. It rubs circles into his skin. Sasuke clings to it, to the smell of antiseptic, to the sheets beneath his fingers. He locks onto the voice speaking to him, kind and soothing, nothing like the cruel one echoing in his head—

"Breathe… just breathe… you're okay…"

There are fingers brushing his face, pushing back his hair. Sasuke's throat burns, and his eyes sting, tears blurring his vision. There's a bin in front of him that is taken away, and something wipes at his mouth. The world is slow to realign.

Kakashi's face is in front of him. His expression looks slightly panicked, even as the hand on his back remains solid and steady. He reminds Sasuke of someone else in that moment, and the memory of a ten-year-old Itachi flashes through his mind.

There had been an accident with one of their mother's swords. Sasuke had gotten a hold of one and had ended up nearly impaling himself. His brother had been yelling at him, sharp phrases like are you stupid, you could have died, what were you thinking, and Sasuke had burst into tears.

Itachi had been completely startled. Sasuke remembers his alarmed expression, the way his hands had fluttered around him, desperate apologies spilling from his lips. No—sorry—don't cry—I didn't mean it—

The world goes fuzzy again. Ten-year-old Itachi becomes thirteen-year-old Itachi, and his panicked eyes become hard and cold. His voice becomes cruel.

(—cling to your wretched life.)

Blood on the streets. In the sky. Tripping over a body, scraping up his palms. Eyes searing into him, the pattern of a curved shuriken—

(You're not even worth—)

His nails dig deeply into his palms. Kakashi's face comes back into focus. The smell of blood fades.

"Are you with me?" Kakashi asks, his hand under Sasuke's chin.

Sasuke twists his chin out of the grip, shutting down whatever expression is on his face. Kakashi's hand drops.

The confusion in his mind rapidly clearing, memory is setting in more firmly now. He remembers. Cold eyes. A steel grip on his wrist. Hand around his throat. Pain—

Desperation erupts, a seething anger right on its heels. "Itachi," he snarls, shaking his sensei off him, "where's Itachi?"

He rips at the IV on his arm, yanking the needle out and ignoring the pain in his wrist. He struggles to stand from the bed, his muscles weak, kicking at the sheets encasing his legs. He finally manages to get his feet on the floor, but there's no strength in his legs. He nearly falls.

"Whoa, hey!" Kakashi stops him with an alarmed expression, pushing him back down on the bed. "Slow down, you've been asleep for two weeks. Your body is weak. And your wrist is broken, stop moving it like that."

Sasuke wants to shove him away, to snarl at him, but he's too tired. And the words are too shocking, snapping him out of the haze of anger that settled over his brain.

"Two weeks?"

It doesn't feel like it's been two weeks. It can't have been two weeks. It feels like hours. Like minutes. Like seconds.

It feels like forever.

Blood. Screams. His parents kneeling on the ground. The glint of a katana slashing down—

"You've been in a coma for thirteen days," Kakashi tells him. "You woke up a bit earlier, but… you had to be sedated."

Sasuke bites the inside of his cheek, his hands shaking. He struggles to process the information. "Itachi—"

"Your brother escaped," Kakashi says. Sasuke grits his teeth. Not my brother, never my brother— "His genjutsu had you trapped. We haven't been able to wake you up until now."

The jounin pauses, seeming caught between saying something else. He closes his mouth, an odd look on his face. Sasuke remembers a stretching hallway, lightning at his fingertips. He remembers sharp knuckles and hard fists, a loud voice and blonde hair—

"Naruto!" Sasuke says, sitting up sharply as he remembers. "Is he—?"

"He's fine," Kakashi says. He pushes down on Sasuke's chest again. "What did I tell you? Stop trying to get up. You'll just fall over."

Sasuke scowls, refusing to acknowledge the wave of relief that crashes over him as he hears that the idiot is safe. He thinks of Itachi, eyes cold and ruthless, and the memories of blood rise up again. He buries them as deep as he can, forcing the coppery smell from his nose. Forcing the image of the Mangekyou from his brain.

(Foolish little brother—)

Sasuke's hands shake. He can't seem to parse out what he's feeling. Fear, yes. Anxiety. And anger. Always anger.

"What happened?" he asks. "You said he—he put me in a coma. What does that mean? How did you wake me up?"

He despises the way his voice shakes. The way his hands tremble. Stupid, he tells himself, tightening his grip on the pale sheets. You're being stupid.

Kakashi looks at him warily. There's a look in his exposed eye that Sasuke can't quite read. "Your brother trapped you in a genjutsu. In it, he's able to fully manipulate space and time—"

There's that word again. Brother. Sasuke's vision goes red around the edges. Brother, brother, brother. I have acted like the older brother you desire—

"I know how it works," he snaps, his nails cutting into his palms. "I've been through it before. Why didn't I wake up?"

Kakashi looks deeply sad for a moment, for reasons Sasuke doesn't understand. Then he shakes his head. "I don't know why you didn't wake up. Why the genjutsu didn't release. Itachi's abilities are… I don't have the faintest idea how they work."

This isn't a surprise. Sasuke doesn't understand much better. There's so much about the Mangekyou that remains unknown.

Three tomoe swirling together, becoming curved. A hand at his throat. Falling, falling, falling—

(For twenty-four hours, relive that day—)

Sasuke feels his hands shaking again as he struggles to combat the memories, to keep them from sucking him in. A blinding rage fills him, threatening to migrate to his eyes. Twenty-four hours. That was way longer than twenty-four hours, you bastard—

His chest feels tight. Every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is blood and bodies, and it makes him terrified to even blink. He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to punch Itachi right in his perfectly-straight teeth—

He wants to dig his thumbs into that man's eyes, wants to rip them from his skull—

(Foolish little brother—)

There are hands on his shoulders again. Kakashi is suddenly very close to him, with that same alarmed look on his face again. "Sasuke, breathe."

Sasuke didn't realize his breathing sped up. He attempts to return it to normal, to blink the red from his vision. Kakashi's face blurs with Itachi's in his mind, concern into cruelty, and Sasuke presses his hand against the mattress beneath him, putting pressure on his broken wrist.

(You're not even—)

The pain causes his vision to go white. The images fade.

He's left with a hot burn of shame, hating the look on his sensei's face. Like he's a skittish cat, like he has to tread carefully around him, like he's something fragile. "Sasuke—"

"I'm fine," Sasuke snaps, before he can even finish the question. He shrugs the man's hands from his shoulders. "How did you wake me up?"

There it is again. That pause. That reluctance. Sasuke feels himself bristle. "Kakashi—"

"Promise me you'll remain calm. When I tell you, you can't freak out."

"Tell me what?"

Kakashi pauses again, his gaze searching Sasuke's face. Then he tells him, "Your brother woke you up. He was the only one who could. Jiraiya and I tracked him down."

There's a faint roaring in his ears. The world becomes less focused again. Sasuke doesn't understand. Itachi—that man—helped him? Why—why would he—

Blood. Screams. The floor beneath his cheek, fingers scraping against the bloody wood. Icy eyes staring down at him—

(To test the limits of my ability.)

Sasuke's eyes bleed into red. Rage-anger-hatred-fury burns through his veins like a fire, like a match against a line of gasoline. His heart beats it, a litany of Itachi-Itachi-Itachi.

"Where is he?!" Sasuke snarls, ripping back the sheets and shoving himself from the bed. His Sharingan brings everything into sharp, vivid focus, seems to paint the world in red. "You said you caught him?! Where is he—Where—"

His mother's fingers reaching out. Why didn't… you save… us?

He tries to push past his sensei, tries to make it to the door. But a sharp pain spikes through his chest, punching the breath from his lungs. He gasps in surprise, coughing, pain pain pain, and he finds himself stumbling. Kakashi catches him just before his knees hit the hard floor.

"That is enough," he says. Vaguely, Sasuke registers that he hasn't ever heard the man be so sharp with him before. "What did I tell you? You're aggravating your injuries, sit down. You'll puncture a lung."

Kakashi pushes him back down on the bed. Sasuke is in too much pain to fight him. Tears sting at his eyes. Tears of pain. Tears of anger. Tears of helplessness.

"That—that man—"

(And one day, when you possess the same eyes—)

Sasuke's chest burns. Breathing hurts.

"Itachi is locked up," Kakashi tells him. "He isn't going anywhere. Calm down."

Sasuke wants to snarl at the words. Calm down? Calm down? But all his previous energy seems to have left him. All he can do is sink back into the mattress, a helpless rage burning through his veins. It lights his blood on fire, but there's nowhere for him to direct it.

It fizzles out, leaving a wave of despair behind it.

(Foolish little brother. You're not even worth killing.)

Sasuke's bones feel heavy, like they're made of lead. The back of his throat burns. He closes his eyes, and he sees his mother's gaping neck. He sees his father's bloody lips. He sees blood, and bodies, and cold, cold eyes.

"Why?" Sasuke asks. Speaking hurts, and he resists the urge to reach up and touch the finger-shaped bruises he knows are around his neck. "Why did he help me?"

Kakashi is silent for a long moment. He sighs. "I don't know."

The ceiling above Sasuke is white. He blinks, and it turns red. He blinks again, and it goes back to white.

"I want to be alone," he says.

He doesn't look at Kakashi, just stares up at the ceiling, but he can feel the way the jounin hesitates. The way his gaze lingers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Kakashi hesitates a moment longer. Then Sasuke feels his gaze drop. "Okay. But Tsunade will want to examine you soon. I'll have to tell her you're awake."

"Tsunade?"

"Fifth Hokage."

"Oh."

After another pause, Sasuke hears the click of the door opening. Kakashi slips from the room. Sasuke closes his eyes, placing his arm over his eyes. He thinks about that man. About how close he is to him right now. Only blocks away—

Behind his eyes, he sees streets stained in blood. He sees bodies littering the ground. He sees a glowing red moon, and whirling pinwheel eyes. He sees his parents crash to the floor, over and over and over.

Tears sting at his eyes, choking him. He bites them back desperately.

Why, Sasuke thinks. A single tear escapes, slipping down his cheek. Why would he help me?

Chapter Text

Tsunade looks down at the open file on her desk, her mouth pulling into a frown. Her eyes flick toward the label on the corner of the folder. Uchiha, Itachi.

She eyes the faded ink for another moment, before turning back to the file's contents. She riffles through the papers in front of her, her scowl only growing more pronounced. She scans each mission assignment, each report, and by the time she's two-thirds through it, she has to resist the urge to throw the entire folder across the office.

There has to be something here. There has to be.

She continues to look through the folder, growing increasingly frustrated with each page she finishes. Each page closer that she gets to the end of the file. She doesn't know what she expected when she requested the file be pulled from their records, but all she's found is an average ANBU record.

The missions listed in the file range from mundane to gruesome. Most ANBU records are dark and bloody, and Itachi Uchiha's is no exception. His hands were soaked in blood long before he turned his sword against his own kin.

She frowns as she reaches the end of the file—the last page an official declaration of Itachi's status as a missing-nin. She leans back in her chair, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

Nothing. There's absolutely nothing.

Blindly, she reaches out and pulls a random sheet from the pile. It's a document dated about six months before the massacre, promoting Itachi to a captain position. Danzo's signature is at the bottom, and Tsunade narrows her eyes at it.

So he promoted Itachi himself, did he?

It's not unusual. Danzo's power over ANBU used to be almost as great as the Hokage's. Still, something about seeing that signature makes her uneasy.

You're playing a dangerous game, Danzo had said to her. She hadn't liked the tone of his voice one bit.

She sits up straighter, pulling the file closer to her. She begins to go through it again, but she reads each page more carefully this time, taking in every word. It's possible she missed something. Maybe if she looks closer…

The door clicks open. Tsunade doesn't look up at the sound of footsteps, already knowing who it is from their gait.

"What are you looking at?" Jiraiya asks. He looks down at the file on her desk, and a frown pulls at his lips. "Itachi's ANBU file? Why are you looking at that?"

"Learn to knock," Tsunade says, instead of answering.

Jiraiya scowls. He plucks the current report she's holding from her fingers.

"Hey! Jiraiya!"

"Seriously." His eyes scan the document before returning to her face. "What are you doing? I doubt whatever answers you're trying to find are in here."

Tsunade reaches out, snatching the paper back from him. "Well, I have to start somewhere, don't I? And who's to say there's not something here?"

"Do you even know what you're looking for?"

Tsunade purses her lips. It's embarrassing to admit, but no, she doesn't know what she's looking for. Not specifically. But this whole situation with Itachi reeks of secrets, of shadows and deceptions that seem to go far deeper than anyone knows, and she needs to get to the bottom of it.

Danzo is connected to this. If it turns out he's wrapped up in the Akatsuki somehow… wrapped up with someone like Itachi Uchiha…

"No, I don't know what I'm looking for," she admits. "But there's something going on here. Danzo is involved in some way, I just don't know how. And until I can make Itachi talk, this is all I have to go on…"

She trails off as something catches her eye, near the very end of Itachi's file. She narrows her eyes on the dates listed on the reports. The last mission assignment is listed as being in the month of March. That's four whole months before the massacre took place. Why are there no other reports from between that time?

This can't be right. ANBU operatives are given a constant influx of missions, especially members as skilled as Itachi Uchiha. So why is there such a large gap of time unaccounted for?

She leans forward in her chair, a frown at her lips. "Jiraiya, look at this."

She beckons him closer, pointing out the dates on the file. He looks down at them, then back at her, not getting what she's trying to point out.

"The massacre took place in July," Tsunade tells him. "But this file claims his last mission before he fled Konoha was four months before that. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

Jiraiya frowns slightly, though he doesn't look convinced. "Maybe he took time off."

"He never put in a request for leave," Tsunade says. "If he had, it would be in here."

"Then maybe some reports fell out of his file and were lost. It happens sometimes. Are you sure you're not trying to see something that isn't there?"

Tsunade grits her teeth, remembering Danzo's visit to her office. Remembering her talk with Itachi. She knows she has no proof that there's something more going on here. But her instincts are telling her that she's stepped into something, and she knows better than to ignore them when they are trying to tell her something.

"I know it seems like I'm reaching," she says. "But I know I'm on the right track here. I've never trusted a word that's come out of Danzo's mouth."

"I don't trust that man, either," Jiraiya says. "You know that. But sometimes files go missing. It doesn't mean there's some kind of conspiracy."

"It doesn't mean there isn't, either."

Jiraiya looks at her for a long moment. He sighs in resignation, inclining his head. "Alright, fine. What do you need me to do?"

"Just keep an eye on him," Tsunade says. "Keep me informed on his activities. Whatever he's up to… I've got a feeling it goes far deeper than we know."

That night, after Sasuke wakes up from his coma, Kakashi dreams of red eyes. He dreams of a crimson sky and a street filled with bodies, a child curled up in the corner of a room.

He dreams of a sword repeatedly stabbing him. He dreams of a boy in an ANBU mask.

He wakes with the feeling of blood on his hands, his heart pounding against his ribs. He walks to the sink and scrubs at his hands until his skin is raw.

That morning, Naruto and Sakura ambush him on his way down the street. They demand that he let them see Sasuke, and they refuse to take no for an answer. Kakashi isn't sure it's the best idea, but in the end, he agrees just to shut them up.

He's beginning to develop a serious migraine.

They walk toward the hospital, taking the familiar path to Sasuke's room. Kakashi wonders how his student is doing—he hopes he's doing better than he was yesterday.

He hopes, but he doubts it. What Sasuke's been through isn't the type of thing someone just shakes off.

He remembers how Sasuke looked yesterday—pale and shaking, struggling to hold onto the present moment. The mix of fury and fear that Itachi's name ignited.

He thinks about the boy he saw in the genjutsu—seven years old and backed into a corner. He remembers what his student had said to him yesterday.

("I know how it works. I've been through it before.")

So he was right. Itachi had used this same genjutsu on Sasuke before, during the massacre. Thinking about it makes Kakashi's jaw clench.

Kakashi is a grown adult, and that same mental torture nearly broke his mind. Sasuke had been seven. It's a miracle he was still functional after that.

Kakashi tries to parse out Itachi's motives, and he's at a complete loss. I don't get it. He doesn't want Sasuke to die… yet he puts him under a genjutsu that had every chance of breaking his mind?

It doesn't make sense. None of it does. Itachi doesn't make sense.

They reach the correct room. Kakashi turns to his students with a firm expression.

"Remember, no yelling. And no throwing yourself at him."

The first part is aimed at Naruto. The second is for Sakura.

Naruto scowls, but Sakura nods. "We know, Sensei."

They forget his words the moment the door is opened.

"Sasuke!"

"Sasuke-kun!"

Sakura throws her arms around Sasuke's neck immediately. Sasuke grunts slightly at the impact.

"I'm so relieved you're awake!"

Sasuke doesn't hug her back. But he doesn't shove her away either, which Sakura seems to take as a win.

"How are you?" she asks, pulling back. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine," Sasuke says. "What are you doing here?"

Kakashi takes a second to look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes; he clearly didn't sleep at all last night. He's pale, too, paler than his normal pale.

"Obviously, we came to see you," Sakura says. "We heard you woke up yesterday, but we weren't allowed to see you then."

She turns around to glare at Kakashi when she says this. Kakashi holds up his hands.

"Don't glare at me. I was following orders." He looks at Sasuke. "You sure you're doing okay? Did Tsunade check you over?"

"She did."

Predictably, he ignores the first question. Kakashi refrains from sighing.

"Everyone's been so worried," Sakura says. "For a while, we weren't sure if you were going to wake up. It really scared me."

Sasuke doesn't respond.

"Even Naruto missed you," she adds.

Kakashi watches in amusement as Naruto's face flushes. "Wha—I did not!"

Sakura looks like she's resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Boys," she huffs. She looks back at Naruto. "Is it really so hard to admit that you were worried?"

"I wasn't worried about that asshole! You were the one watching him sleep like a creepy stalker!"

This time, it's Sakura's turn to flush. "Naruto!"

Kakashi shakes his head with a sigh. Clearly, they've completely disregarded his instructions not to yell. It's useless to try and quiet them. And if he's being honest, he's actually missed their childish bickering.

"Shut up," Sasuke mutters. "Both of you are so annoying."

Naruto huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. "Unbelievable. You're still such a bastard. You know, I think I liked you better when you were asleep."

Sasuke turns to Kakashi. "When can I get out of here?" he asks.

"Hey! Are you even listening to me!"

Sasuke doesn't even twitch, continuing to ignore Naruto completely. Kakashi pushes off the doorframe, finally entering the room properly.

"You didn't ask Tsunade-sama when she was here?"

Sasuke glares at him. "When can I leave?" he repeats.

Kakashi sinks into the chair by his student's bedside. He studies Sasuke with a narrowed eye. There's an intensity to his expression that Kakashi doesn't like—it's the same as yesterday, when he demanded answers about his brother.

"Why so eager? You're not seeing Itachi, I hope you know that."

Sasuke flinches, his hands shaking against the sheets. Emotion sparks in his eyes. "I need answers. You can't stop me—"

"Watch me," Kakashi tells him. "You're not allowed to see Itachi. Those are the Hokage's orders, and I agree with them. He's being interrogated as we speak."

"I have a right to know—"

"You do. But getting answers from him isn't your job."

Sasuke looks at him furiously, his hands fists against the sheets. His breathing has sped up slightly, and there's something unfocused in his eyes. They've gone slightly vacant.

Kakashi recognizes the look. He's seen it on the faces of dozens of shinobi. He's having a flashback.

Sakura frowns in concern. "Sasuke?"

Before Kakashi can warn her not to, she reaches out a hand to touch his cheek. Sasuke startles violently, and his Sharingan activates. He slaps her hand away.

The sound echoes through the room. Sakura pulls her hand to her chest, her eyes wide.

The two tomoe in Sasuke's eyes are whirling. There's a tense silence, and then Naruto yells, "Hey! Bastard, what the hell—"

'Naruto," Kakashi says, "don't."

He doesn't raise his voice, but there's enough steel in his tone that Naruto falls silent immediately. Kakashi approaches Sasuke slowly, bending down when he reaches him. He doesn't touch him.

"Sasuke," he says. "Can you hear me?"

There's a slight pause. Sasuke's eyes focus slightly, and he nods.

"Good. Try to breathe."

Sasuke does. It's a tense few moments, but the Sharingan fades from Sasuke's eyes, the red returning to its usual black. He comes back to himself, and Kakashi recognizes what looks like embarrassment on his face before his expression goes blank.

"You okay?" Kakashi asks.

(He knows the answer is no. He also knows Sasuke will never admit this.)

"Fine," Sasuke says. "Back off."

Sakura is still holding the hand Sasuke slapped away to her chest, though now she looks more concerned than she does hurt. Even Naruto looks worried, his previous irritation nowhere to be seen.

"Sasuke…" he whispers.

Sasuke prickles immediately at the soft tone. "Don't look at me like that. Why are you even here?"

Naruto draws back, clearly offended, and Sakura frowns.

"Sasuke," she says softly, "you're our friend. We just want to help you."

Something complicated flashes through Sasuke's eyes, a mixture of emotions. His jaw tightens, but he doesn't speak.

Kakashi watches him, and tries to figure out the right way to approach this. He wants to know how his student is doing. But the moment he tries to pry into his feelings, he knows Sasuke will shut down and lock them out. He needs to do this delicately, carefully—

"So, your brother," Naruto says. "What's up with him?"

And then there's Naruto, who has all the subtlety of a large, blunt hammer.

Sasuke flinches, his hands becoming fists. Sakura whips her head around to glare at him. "Naruto."

Naruto shrugs. "What? He says he's fine. He says he doesn't want us tiptoeing around him. That's what I'm doing." He turns to Sasuke, asking, "So, that genjutsu he put you under. What exactly was it?"

Sasuke is tense for a long moment. But to Kakashi's surprise, Naruto's words seem to help. There's no pity in them, no hesitance. Naruto's words are as direct as they always are, and Sasuke seems to actually respond to it.

He still looks like he'd rather they all leave, but he looks less like he'd scratch their eyes out if they refuse.

"I don't know too much about it," he admits, his lip curling in a way that shows he's displeased. "And I don't know how he managed to trap me in it for so long. But it's an extremely powerful doujutsu that's specific to only Itachi. It's called the Tsukuyomi."

A look of realization flashes across Naruto's face. "That's right! Tsukuyomi! That's what that shark guy with Itachi called it!"

Kakashi shoots Naruto a sharp glance. "And you didn't think to mention this before?"

Naruto scowls. "I forgot! He threatened to cut off my legs, you know! It was a bit distracting!"

"Oh please," Sasuke says with a scoff. "Distracting? More like you're simply incapable of remembering a word longer than three syllables."

"Hey! Are you calling me an idiot?"

"You said it, not me."

Naruto growls and makes a sudden movement to lunge. Kakashi's eye widens, and he catches the ratty fabric of Naruto's jacket just in time, holding the boy back.

"Naruto. Sasuke is still injured."

"He's pissing me off like it's his damn job!" Naruto yells. "All I've done is show concern for him, and he won't stop jabbing at me!"

"Forgive me," Sasuke says. "I wasn't aware I had to cater to your delicate feelings."

Naruto attempts to lunge at his teammate again. Caught between them, Sakura squeals, pulling into herself.

"Naruto!" she yells. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? He's the one being a bastard!"

Kakashi sighs, realizing quickly that they aren't going to work this out themselves. And Naruto is right—Sasuke has been purposely goading him since they walked into the room. Kakashi didn't think much of it at first, because he knows Sasuke is in a bad place right now. And when he feels vulnerable, he's prone to lashing out in order to hide it.

But Kakashi realizes now that it's only Naruto it's directed at. Sakura hasn't received the same treatment. And though he's clearly annoyed at Kakashi for not letting him see Itachi, he's still not showing him the same disdain he's showing Naruto.

This isn't just Sasuke acting cold to hide that he's hurting. He's angry, and that emotion is being aimed at Naruto specifically.

"Okay," Kakashi says. "Maybe the two of you should go. Let Sasuke get some rest."

Sakura frowns. "But we just got here. And what about you?"

"I'll stay for a moment. I need to speak with Sasuke."

Naruto huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fine with me!"

Kakashi waits until the two of them leave, Sakura lingering reluctantly in the doorway. He closes the door behind them, leaning against it and turning to face Sasuke.

"What was that all about?" he asks.

Sasuke's jaw tightens. "What was what about?" he snaps.

"Don't give me that. Naruto was right. I know that fighting is pretty normal for you two, but you started snapping at him from the moment he entered the room. Why?"

Sasuke is silent for a long moment. His head is bowed, his hair shadowing his face.

"Why was he after him?"

Oh, Kakashi thinks, realization immeduately hitting him with that one question. Of course.

Kakashi doesn't know much about Sasuke and Itachi's relationship from before. But he imagines that Sasuke must have adored him—a genius older brother, perfect in almost every manner. It's not too hard for Kakashi to imagine a seven-year-old Sasuke, looking up to his brother and constantly trying to prove himself to him.

And despite Sasuke's absolute hatred for the man, that part of him hasn't gone away. Sasuke wants to kill Itachi, yes. But there's still a small part of him, deep inside, that is still that same little kid. Vying for his brother's attention, desperate to get him to lookat him.

To have Itachi return after all this time, and dismiss him completely? To learn that he's there for Naruto?

Kakashi can't begin to understand how much that would hurt.

Kakashi bites the inside of his mouth. He doesn't know how to answer this question. He can't tell Sasuke the real reason the Akatsuki are after Naruto. But if he doesn't, then Sasuke is left feeling worthless.

He remembers Itachi's voice when he looked into Sasuke's head. You're not even worth killing. Sasuke is usually so confident, often bordering on arrogant. But where Itachi is concerned, he clearly has some deep-seated issues with his self-worth.

And Kakashi can't do anything to fix it. He can't tell Sasuke about the Kyuubi.

"I don't know," he tells him instead, hating himself as he says it. "I'm sorry, Sasuke. I wish I did."

Sasuke bites his lip. His hands are shaking, and he fists them into his sheets. There's a darkness in his eyes, a deep hatred. It isn't the first time Kakashi has seen it, and it isn't the first time it's worried him.

"What I said on the rooftop that day," Sasuke tells him, "I meant every word. I'll do anything to make it happen."

Kakashi remembers Sasuke on that rooftop, the day they first met. He recalls the way the boy stapled his hands beneath his chin, the cold anger in his eyes. What I have is not a dream. Because I will make it a reality.

But he also recalls that seven-year-old child, curled up in a ball deep inside his own mind. He recalls the ice-cold fear that flashed through his eyes, before the rage hid it. Before he choked it down.

There's a fury and a vengeance in Sasuke Uchiha. But beneath that, there's an irrational, implacable fear—that even in the last circle of Hell, Itachi will still have him by the throat.

Chapter Text

Sasuke stares at the door, his hand shaking around the handle. His bare feet are cold against the floor.

Move, he tells himself, trying to force his legs forward. Terror paralyzes him, rises up in his throat and chokes him. Move!

He forces his foot forward. His hand appears in front of him, shaking as he pushes the door open.

Something wraps around his lungs and strangles his heart. It explodes in his chest, and in a sudden burst of panic, he can move again.

"Tou-san! Kaa-san!"

His mother and father are laying on the ground, their blood wet and dripping across the floorboards. His brother is stepping forward out of the shadows, his eyes cold and blank and dead—

Some part of Sasuke's mind registers that he's been here before—that he knows this scene, has relived it over and over, enough for it to lose all meaning—but it does nothing to dull the panic in his chest, the horror, the confusion—

He shakes his head. "I don't—I don't understand—"

There is blood on Itachi's vest and emptiness in his eyes, and Sasuke doesn't understand—

"Nii-san—who could have—"

Pain rips through his shoulder, spraying the air with blood. The shuriken embeds itself in the wall behind him, and suddenly, his brother isn't his brother anymore. Instead he's a stranger.

He's stalking forward, and Sasuke is stumbling back, feet slipping in his parents blood. There's a slash in Itachi's headband, and he's taller, and his gray uniform morphs into a black and red cloak—

Sasuke's back hits the wall, but it's no longer his parents' bedroom. Everything is brighter, and the walls are beige, and a long hallway stretches in front of him—

A hand wraps around his neck, purple-colored fingernails. He's lifted from the ground, held against the wall.

Sasuke's heart pounds in his chest, and he can hear it in his ears. Cold terror drowns him, crawls up his throat, chokes him.

"Nii-san—"

Itachi's nails dig into his skin, and his hand around his throat is like an iron brand. He leans in, his breath against Sasuke's ear.

"Foolish little brother," he hisses cruelly. "You didn't really think I'd spare you, did you?"

And Itachi's eyes are twisting, transforming, the three tomoe swirling together—

"Tsukuyomi—"

Sasuke bolts upright with a gasp, his heart racing. Red eyes are burned into his brain, filling him with terror, preventing him from catching his breath.

He's sweating beneath the sheets of the hospital bed. He throws them off, sitting up and bending over his knees. He struggles to return his pulse to normal, to slow the gallop in his heart.

The pattern of Itachi's Mangekyou is like a brand on his eyelids. It makes his heart feel like it's wrapped in wire-string.

(Tsukuyomi—)

Sasuke chokes on the word—on the memory of helplessness. Itachi's hand around his throat like a noose, cutting off his air. Holding his life in his hands.

So delicate. So fragile. So pathetically weak.

His hand moves to the Curse Mark on his neck. He digs his nails into it, feeling the power pulsing just beneath his skin.

(You're still too weak. You don't have enough hatred.)

Sasuke turns his head to look out the window. The sun is only just rising, bathing the sky in a lovely orange. The orange morphs into a bloody red, and Sasuke blinks his eyes. The red goes back to orange.

(Foolish little brother—)

His hands shake in the sheets, and he thinks about that man, only blocks away. And suddenly, he is pulsing with anger, with desire, and he can't stand to sit idle for another minute. Not when his goal is so close in his reach. Not when that man is right here—

He's here. He's right here.

Sasuke stands up. His chest is burning with a sudden, desperate need—hate me despise me kill me—and it pushes him up. Red eyes and the memory of blood, blood, blood—

A brief flash of Itachi looking down at him—something glinting on his cheeks—tears?—

A gentle touch to his face and whispered words: ("—so sorry I ever did this—")

It's all washed away by the memory of blood. A hand around his neck and a voice at his ear. You're pathetic, otouto.

Sasuke clenches his teeth, his palms stinging from the bite of his nails. That man is sitting locked up only blocks away. And Sasuke needs to see him. He needs answers.

He knows Kakashi told him he isn't allowed. He knows he isn't supposed to. Hokage's orders.

He doesn't care.

Why would he help me? Why would he wake me up? Why would he leave me alive?

(Why didn't he just kill me)

Everyone's been trying to tell him that they understand. They all say that they know how he must be feeling. But all of it is bullshit.

Let everyone they love be killed in front of them. Let it happen by the hand of the person they trusted most. Let that same person discard them like garbage, then torture them for the sake of amusement. Let them see blood, and death, and redredred eyes whenever they fall asleep.

Then, and only then, will Sasuke allow them to say that they know how he feels.

There are ANBU stationed outside his window—but they're there to keep people out, not to keep him in. He opens the door and leaves the room, and no one makes a move to stop him.

Sasuke remembers slipping out of the hospital, when he woke up after the massacre. He's hit with a sudden sense of déjà vu.

("He's the only one who survived."

"But he had an older brother, didn't he?"

"Yes, but no one knows where he is.")

It takes him no time at all to make the walk. The prison is located near the Uchiha District. Next to the old headquarters of the Police Force. Sasuke takes the familiar path he takes every day to get home.

He's passing the entrance of the compound when his breath leaves him. All it takes is seeing the familiar gate, and everything from the Tsukuyomi floods back in vivid color.

Bodies littering the streets, twisted expressions frozen in fear. Blood splashing across the grass, the windows, the floor—

Screaming. His father's eyes, his mother's cry, blood blood blood—

Sasuke chokes. He spins away and speeds up his steps.

He speeds past the Police Headquarters, empty and abandoned. The prison is just behind it. He steps inside.

A man stops him—a familiar man. He has scars on his face. Sasuke remembers him—he was the proctor of the first stage of the Chuunin Exams. Ibiki Morino, Head of Torture and Interrogation.

"Kid," he snaps. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Sasuke refuses to be intimidated (and also refuses to admit he jumped when Ibinki appeared).

"I want to see my brother."

Ibiki snorts. "You're kidding, right? Absolutely not."

"Have you been able to get any information out of him?" Sasuke takes the man's silence as a no. "Let me talk to him."

Truthfully, Sasuke doubts he'll get anything from Itachi. Certainly not anything Itachi doesn't want to tell him. But if he can just speak to him…

Ibiki considers him for a moment, his jaw locked. His face is like stone. Finally, he inclines his head slightly.

"Fine," he says. "But there are cameras. I'll be watching them. I can pull you out at any time."

Sasuke is escorted to the correct cell block. He stands there for a moment, outside the interrogation room, not moving. Then he forces his arm to move, forces the door open, forces himself to step inside.

Itachi turns to look at him with familiar dark eyes—

The room falls away—

There's a hand around his throat, pressing him against a wall. Itachi's hair is brushing against his cheek, his breath against his ear.

Sasuke can't breathe, and Itachi's eyes are twisting, and the entire world is red red red—

(Foolish little brother—)

He bites down hard on his cheek, the taste of blood filling his mouth. He comes back to himself, and Itachi is staring at him.

"Well?" he says impassively. His voice sends a shiver down Sasuke's spine, threatens to tip him back into the abyss.

(If you wish to kill me one day, in hatred and revenge—)

Itachi's eyebrow is lifted in question. He's said something, and Sasuke has missed it. Sasuke steps up to the table, pulls the chair out, and sits down. He forces himself to look at his brother, swallowing down the panic choking him.

"Itachi," he says.

Are Itachi's eyes red right now? Or is he just imagining it?

"Sasuke," Itachi returns evenly. His wrists are padlocked to the table, the medal cutting sharply into his skin.

Sasuke's own hands are shaking. He hides them in his lap.

"Why did you help me?" he asks. "Why not just let me stay trapped in your Tsukuyomi? Let me lose my mind?"

Itachi sighs, as if this line of questioning disappoints him. "What are you expecting, Sasuke? A brotherly declaration of love? I helped you for the same reason I left you alive that night. You already know the reason."

Itachi's voice from five years ago echoes in his head, clear as day. You will be the third person, including myself, to have gained the power of the Mangekyou Sharingan…

Sasuke grinds his teeth. The memories flash in front of his eyes, and it's a fight not to fall back into them.

"So I can become stronger. So you can have a worthy opponent to test your strength against."

Itachi shrugs. "You're pathetic as you are now. But you have the potential. There's still time."

(A memory flashes in front of his eyes. Staring up at the night sky from his sleeping bag, Itachi laid out next to him. "You will surpass me."

"Impossible," Sasuke said. "You're really gifted. Everyone says so."

Itachi smiled, the stars reflected in his eyes. "You're a lot like me. You have the potential.")

Sasuke clenches his hands, his eyes feeling hot. He hates, hates, hates this man. Hates him for abandoning him, hates him for wounding so many others.

Hates that he used to love him once.

(Hates that a part of him still does.)

Sasuke closes his eyes. Tears threaten, and he refuses to show them in front of this man.

"What happened that night…" he says, "I was so young. I wanted so desperately to believe it wasn't real. That I was trapped inside a horrible genjutsu."

Itachi's expression is unreadable. In the face of Sasuke's obvious pain, he doesn't bat an eyelash.

"We all live inside the fantasies we create. What is the point of this, Sasuke?"

Sasuke looks him straight in the eyes, ignores the way his fucked-up brain causes them to flash between black and red.

"Back on that night, you mentioned the existence of another Uchiha. Someone else, other than you, who possesses the Mangekyou Sharingan. Whoever that man is… was your accomplice. They helped you wipe out the Clan."

Finally, a reaction—surprise flashes clearly through Itachi's eyes. He's quick to recover himself, his face smoothing back into that expressionless mask, but the single second was enough.

"Accomplice?" Itachi repeats. "What makes you believe such a thing?"

"You're strong," Sasuke says. "Even at only thirteen, you were the strongest person I knew. But the rest of the Uchiha were strong, too. The strongest. Even you couldn't take them all out on your own."

Itachi doesn't respond, just gives him a long, thoughtful look. Sasuke clenches his teeth at the silence.

"Well?" he says. "Am I right?"

Itachi is silent, unmoving. Then, his lips curve up into the slightest smile. He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, tipping his face up toward the ceiling.

"I didn't expect you to figure it out so soon. But then, you've always had a habit of surpassing my expectations."

Sasuke scowls at the painful surge of pride the words invoke—the part of him that, after everything, still seeks his big brother's approval.

"I figured it out years ago," he says. "I just needed you to confirm it."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, pulling lightly at the restraints around his wrists. "And now that I have?"

"Who is he? The other Uchiha?"

For a moment, Itachi seems to actually consider answering him. Then he shakes his head.

"No," he decides. "It's too soon for me to tell you that."

Sasuke feels himself splinter. Visions of blood flickering in the corners of his eyes, he's hit with a sudden burst of hatred. The intensity of it steals his breath.

He stands abruptly. Itachi actually looks startled at the violent movement, but Sasuke is too angry to feel satisfied.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he says. "All of this! Saving me, torturing me—does it give you some sick sense of amusement? Telling me to kill you, to get stronger—"

He freezes. It feels like he's been hit with ice water. If you wish to kill me one day…

"That's it, isn't it?" Sasuke realizes, shaking from the realization. "You—you want to die."

Itachi's face shuts down immediately, like shutters on a window slamming closed. Sasuke feels like the floor beneath him is crumbling.

No, he thinks. No.

Hate me, his brother told him that night. Find me. Kill me.

"And that's why you left me alive," he breathes. "It wasn't about me. It was never about me. You just wanted…"

It can't be true. It can't be. He can't have been left alive just for this—a tool to manipulate, to mold, to use—

(You're still too weak. You don't have enough hatred.)

Five years. He's spent five years living only for the goal of killing Itachi. That's what he's lived every day in pursuit of. To become stronger than him, to beat him, to make him pay—

But how is it winning if it's what his brother wants? How is it revenge if it doesn't make him hurt?

Sasuke's hands shake. The memory of blood flashes in front of his eyes.

"Is that really all I am to you?" he demands. "Just some—just some sword to use? To manipulate into giving you what you want?"

He doesn't know why he's surprised. He shouldn't be. Itachi laid it out to him before, didn't he? He told him that night, plain as day, just how little Sasuke's life was worth.

(That's why I'm allowing you to live. For my own sake.)

He can feel himself beginning to fracture. There's something building in his chest, something awful and splintered, and his eyes feel hot again.

"Tell me it was more than that," Sasuke begs. "Tell me I'm more than that."

It's stupid. It's stupid and desperate and pathetic, but still, after everything, he can't help that small part of himself.

The part of him that, after all this time, still refuses to believe his brother's love was a lie.

Tell me that there's something else. Tell me there's another reason.

Itachi looks at him, and his eyes are the same as that night.

"You're nothing to me," he says.

Sasuke feels the impact like a Chidori through the chest. Itachi's eyes are dead dead dead, and Sasuke—

Four words. That's all it takes to shatter him.

(You're nothing to me.)

—Sasuke can't breathe.

He's heard iterations of the words before. You're not even worth killing. He hears it in every dream, every breath. It shouldn't affect him. It shouldn't hurt.

But god, it does.

(You're nothing to me.)

The thing in his chest crawls up into his mouth. It's so heavy that his throat goes tight with it, and suddenly he can't draw enough air into his lungs.

Loud noise pounds in his ears. It feels like the walls are closing in on him, like his arms and legs are cramped in on each other, and his brother's eyes are red red red—

The moon is red, and so is the floor, and so are his hands. Foolish little brother—

He can't breathe, he can't breathe—

"You're a coward, Itachi Uchiha," he chokes out. His body is shaking. "I hope you get exactly what you want."

If Itachi reacts to the words, Sasuke doesn't see it. He spins around and out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

His insides feel like broken pieces of glass, shifting and shredding up his lungs. His mind is shutting down, shriveling up like a fruit left to dry in the sun and retreating back into his body. Down, down down…

(You're nothing to me.)

His legs weaken, and suddenly he's not standing anymore. His knees are drawn up to his chest, and his lungs burn, and his vision goes fuzzy—

The moon is red. The floor is red. His hands are red.

I'm dying, Sasuke thinks, clutching at his chest. I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying—

He tucks his head between his legs, gasping. Tears prick at his eyes, and the ugly thing clawing in his chest refuses to go away, and there's no air no air no air—

And in his head, Itachi is smiling. In his head, Itachi is laughing, is carrying him on his back, is poking him on the forehead, is slicing through their parents' necks—

(You're nothing to me.)

Sasuke buries his face in his knees and cries.

The door to the room is thick. But not thick enough to block out the sound of sobbing coming from the other side.

Itachi's heart twists in his chest as he hears his brother break down feet away from him. He wants to cover his ears, to block the noise out, to pretend he doesn't hear it—

Instead, he sits still in his chair, his hands curled into fists, and forces himself to listen.

(You're a coward, Itachi Uchiha.)

Because he deserves this.

Chapter Text

(“No one deserves to be alone like that. No one should suffer that much.”)

Naruto thinks about those words as he sits in the grass—the words Iruka-sensei said to him that day, when he risked his life to save him.

(“No one should suffer that much.”)

Naruto thinks about those words—and for some reason, they make him think of Sasuke.

He twists a blade of grass around his fingers, pulling it up from the ground. He digs his nails into the soil, and thinks about a boy sitting at the end of a dock. He thinks about walking past that dock each afternoon, glancing down and seeing him there.

(“No one deserves to be alone like that.”)

He always knew that Sasuke was alone, just like he was. But he never understood how, not until Itachi Uchiha came crashing into the village, his existence like a roadmap leading straight into his teammate’s heart.

(“No one should suffer that much.”)

Naruto knows he overreacted yesterday, when they went to go visit Sasuke at the hospital. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper the way he did, especially when it was clear that Sasuke wasn’t alright. But Naruto went there to show his honest concern, and all he received for it was insults and belittling remarks.

But he shouldn’t have been so quick to react. He sees that now. He sees that his best friend is suffering—even if he doesn’t understand how.

(“No one deserves to be alone.”)

He understands that Sasuke feels like he’s still alone, even though he’s surrounded by people. He understands how it feels to be alone so long, that sometimes you don’t even realize when you no longer are.

Sasuke is pushing them away. With harsh words and cold glares, Sasuke is building a wall between himself and the rest of the world. But Naruto won’t let him. They both know how it feels to be alone, and Naruto won’t let Sasuke suffer it willingly.

He thinks about the Curse Mark on Sasuke’s neck. He thinks about the purpose of it. He thinks about the hands that wrapped so mercilessly around Sasuke’s throat, the screams that were torn from his lips.

He thinks about how weak Itachi Uchiha made Sasuke look—and he feels a cold fear in his heart that refuses to fade.

Because what if Sasuke refuses to let them help him? What if he goes to someone else instead?

Naruto clenches his jaw, pulling more violent at the grass beneath him. “Ugh!” he says. “Stupid Sasuke!”

Jiraiya looks up from his magazine at the noise. “Hey,” he says. “What did that poor patch of ground ever do to you?”

Naruto huffs, throwing the grass he ripped from the ground up into the air. He falls onto his back, staring up at the clear blue sky.

“Pervy Sage,” he says after a moment, “that Orochimaru guy was your teammate, right?”

Jiraiya’s hand freezes on the page. Sensing the serious tone to the blonde boy’s voice, he pulls his gaze away from scantily-clad swimsuit models.

“Yes. He was.”

Naruto twists blades of grass around his fingers, still looking up at the sky. “Why did he desert the village?”

The inquiry is clearly unexpected. Pervy Sage frowns, a crease appearing between his eyebrows, and for a moment, Naruto thinks he isn’t going to answer. Maybe he doesn’t know.

“Orochimaru’s parents were killed when he was very young,” Jiraiya says. “They were both shinobi of the Leaf. Orochimaru became obsessed with power after that. Perhaps he wanted to find a way to bring them back. Or perhaps he harbored resentment toward the village for causing their deaths.”

Naruto frowns when he hears this information. “His parents were killed… just like Sasuke’s.”

Jiraiya looks over to him with a frown. “Sasuke? Is that what this is about?”

He pulls at the grass, chewing on his lip. “I’m worried about him. Did you know Orochimaru gave him a Curse Mark?”

Jiraiya nods with a grave look. “Yes, I heard. In the Chuunin Exams, right?”

Naruto nods, biting his lip. “He wants Sasuke. I’m not sure why. And Sakura-chan said he seemed so sure that Sasuke would go to him…”

“And you fear that it’s true? That Sasuke will be tempted?”

Naruto doesn’t want to consider it. Sasuke would never go to Orochimaru—not to the man who attacked Konoha and killed the Third Hokage. But he thinks about how easily Itachi halted his Chidori, how effortlessly he beat Sasuke down, and he worries.

Sasuke is strong—Naruto’s always wanted to be as strong as him. But if Itachi Uchiha is his goal, then Sasuke is hilariously outmatched.

“He wants to beat his brother,” Naruto says. “To be strong enough to kill him.”

“Revenge,” Jiraiya says. He sighs. “Your friend has a lot of anger in his heart. A lot of darkness. Orochimaru will try to use that. He’ll try to take advantage of it.”

Naruto pushes himself back off the ground, turning to look at the Sennin. “So then… you think he’ll leave, then?”

“It’s hard to say,” he replies. “On the surface, he and Orochimaru appear to share slight similarities. But Sasuke appears to consider you a comrade, at least. He has a tie with you. I don’t know if Orochimaru ever felt the same.”

Naruto nods at this. Despite Sasuke’s cool, often detached exterior, deep down he considers his teammates to be his comrades. Naruto knows from the way he pushed himself to his feet in the forest, prepared to fight Gaara even knowing it meant his death.

(“I never want to see that again. My precious comrades falling… right in front of me.”)

Sasuke might never admit it out loud, but Naruto knows he considers them friends.

“Still," Jiraiya says. “Do not underestimate Orochimaru. He can be very persuasive. You should keep your friend close. Make sure you’re there for him.”

Jiraiya looks down, flipping at the pages in the magazine. He’s never been the best at advice, so he leaves it at that. Instead, he refocuses his attention on the scantily-clad bikini models in front of him.  

“Were you there for Orochimaru?”

Jiraiya pauses at the question, his mind drawn quickly from his fantasies. Something twists in his chest that feels vaguely like shame. “No. I wasn’t.”

“Do you think it would have changed anything?” Naruto asks. “If you had been?”

Jiraiya thinks of a small face streaked with tears, staring down at a grave. Why does death have to happen, Sensei? He thinks of serpentine eyes, glinting by the light of the campfire. I want to master ninjutsu. And become stronger than anyone.

Jiraiya bows his head. There’s a grief in his heart that he rarely allows himself to feel.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “Maybe.”

His eyes go unfocused, lost in memory. Lost in the dozens of instances where he could have offered his teammate a hand, but had chosen instead to ignore the darkness in his eyes. Could I have helped you? Or is this the person you were always meant to become?

Jiraiya frowns, tapping at the page in front of him. Across from the training field where the two of them are sitting, a man with bandages and a walking stick walks by. Jiraiya’s eyes sharpen, and he is immediately alert.

Danzo, he thinks, with a furrowed eyebrow and suspicious eyes. Where’s he going so late in the afternoon?

Reluctantly, Jiraiya closes his magazine. He stands from the ground, brushing the grass from his lap.

“Sorry, kid. But I gotta go.”

Naruto looks at him incredulously. “What? Just like that? Pervy Sage, we were talking!”

He shrugs, his gaze locked on Danzo’s disappearing figure. “Sorry, Naruto,” he says, throwing the words over his shoulder as he leaves. “But it’s important business. We can pick this up later.”

Naruto huffs as the man scrambles away. “Important business.” He scoffs, yanking up the grass again. “Yeah right. He’s probably just going to spy on the ladies’ bathhouse again…”

When he hears the scrape of the door opening again, so soon after his brother’s departure, Itachi is quick to recompose his face. He is expecting Ibiki, back for another round of mental torture. Perhaps the Hokage.

He is not expecting Danzo Shimura.

His shoulders tense the moment he recognizes the man. His right side is completely wrapped in bandages, his visible eye sharp on Itachi’s face. Itachi holds himself still, his face forcibly blank.

Danzo pulls back the chair that Sasuke vacated less than an hour ago. Itachi has to fight against his anger when he finds himself looking at the man—at the bandages covering his right eye.

Shisui’s eye.

“Itachi,” Danzo says cordially. “Forgive me that it took so long for me to stop by. I admit, I was surprised to hear that the attempt to capture you had been a success. I hadn’t expected such carelessness from you.”

The vision in his right eye is still blurred from his use of Amaterasu—Itachi is certain now that it is permanent. Danzo’s features are slightly hazy to him, but no less detestable.

Danzo clearly suspects the truth behind Itachi’s capture—that he let it happen willingly, to wake his brother. Otherwise there would be no need to bring it up.

Sure enough, he continues by saying, “This was unwise of you. You have risked everything by allowing yourself to fall into Konoha’s hands.”

Itachi wishes he could disagree with him. But he can’t. He can feel his years of planning unravelling around him, as he tries desperately to hold all of it together. It’s been taking every bit of his will to resist Ibiki’s mental interrogations—he thinks if he has to suffer through one more session, it might be the one where he finally breaks.

He glances up at the cameras placed in two corners of the room. He doesn’t think they record sound—at least, they didn’t five years ago—but that could have changed. And most intelligence operatives are trained to read lips.

He keeps his chin low when he speaks, his bangs falling into his face. “I have it handled. It doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns Konoha, which automatically makes it concern me. Any truth that you tell—that you are forced to tell—risks the stability of this village.”

“You’re risking yourself by being here,” the Akatsuki member points out. He shoots a pointed glance at one of the cameras.

“I will do what I must,” Danzo tells him. “Even if I must bear suspicion.”

“What you must,” Itachi repeats, and his hands are clenched so tight that his nails draw blood. “You mean like with the Uchiha?”

“The Uchiha’s fate was decided. You know this. It was the only option.”

Itachi bites down on his tongue. “It was only the only option because you made it so. If you hadn’t killed Shisui—”

“I killed Shisui?” Danzo says. “Funny. I was under the impression that it was you who did that.”

Itachi’s heart twists at the reminder. Shisui holding his eye out with a trusting smile—his body tipping backwards—a sharp pain in his eyes—

“There was a plan in place,” he says, banishing the old images from his mind. “The situation was going to be resolved peacefully. You sabotaged that.”

Danzo’s mouth twists, pulling at the scar on his chin. “Do not be naïve, Itachi. There was never any hope for a peaceful solution. Even if Kotoamatsukami was used to make your father back off, what did you think would happen? That the rest of the Uchiha would simply obediently fall in line?”

Itachi’s jaw clenches. He hates that a part of him thinks this man is right. Even if Shisui had succeeded in changing Fugaku’s mind, the rest of the clan would never have stood for it.

“It was a risk,” he allows. “But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have worked.”

“No,” the bandaged man tells him. “What was a risk was leaving your brother alive. If the truth of what happened to the Uchiha comes out, he will become a threat.”

Itachi tenses at the threat in the words. He remembers Danzo’s words clearly, the night he gave him the choice of killing the clan: …he will develop a vengeful heart towards the Leaf. And then, unfortunately, he will have to die as well.

He grinds his teeth. He’s calculated the possibility of Sasuke discovering the truth; he has contingencies in place for this, as well. If Sasuke ever discovers the truth and turns against Konoha, then Itachi will simply use the eye Shisui bequeathed to him—

But Kotoamatsukami is his final card, not to be used unless absolutely necessary. And he will not let it be known to Danzo, who already has one of Shisui’s eyes, and would no doubt love to own a matching set.

“Sasuke is a child,” Itachi tells him. “He’s no threat."

“He’s no younger than you were. Hardly a child. It’s safer to simply kill him. Correct the mistake you made that night—”

“We had a deal,” Itachi hisses. His voice is a bit shakier than he feels comfortable with, but he can’t seem to steady it. “You promised he would be kept safe—”

“I promised,” says Danzo, “that he would be unharmed in the culling of your clan. I said nothing of his safety afterwards. It was Hiruzen who guaranteed you that, and he is dead now.”

“Yes. He is. But I warned you—go near my brother, and I will leak classified intel to unallied nations—"

“You did warn me,” Danzo agrees. “But I don’t think you’ll really go through with that threat. If you leak that sort of intel, then that will put Konoha in danger. And I don’t think that’s something you’re willing to do. Not when you’ve already gone so far to protect it.”

Itachi clenches his hands in the metal restraints. He can feel the blood of every Uchiha on his skin, forever not washing off. “I killed them to protect my home. I let you live for that same reason. But if you think I would ever—”

“I think, if it meant keeping Konoha safe, then you would sacrifice anything. Even your precious little brother.”

Itachi draws back. The words are like a sharp slap in the face.

“Do not be offended,” Danzo says. “This world is in need of more shinobi like you. Only those who are willing to sacrifice everything will be able to bring about real change.”

Itachi’s hands are shaking. He feels sick to his stomach. With just a few words, this man has managed to strip him of his defenses more affectively than any of Ibiki’s mental interrogations.

“Touch my brother,” he says, struggling to regain his composure, “and I swear, I’ll—”

“You will do nothing. I’ve already called your bluff.”

Danzo has wrestled control of this conversation, Itachi realizes. He’s twisted it out of Itachi’s hands, and it’s too late to try and gain it back.

He feels like he’s thirteen again, being ensnared in the threads of those around him. He has no power here. He is a child, helplessly tangled in strings of manipulation, and the harder he fights the more they restrict him.

“You will run,” Danzo tells him, “before they get a single piece of intel out of you. The truth will remain hidden, and there will be no reason for your brother to be touched. Konoha remains stable, and you may continue with your plans.”

Itachi grinds his teeth. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this much anger. Since he’s directed his hatred at something that isn’t himself.

“I’m trapped,” he says, and getting the words out is like speaking through concrete. He raises his hands, displaying the cuffs. “Even if I agreed, how exactly do you expect—”

Danzo smiles. There’s a silver key in his hand—a key that fits perfectly into the locks of the cuffs.

Itachi narrows his eyes sharply. “How did you get that?”

“Not important. What matters is that I have it. The only thing keeping you here is the restraints preventing you from using your chakra. Take them off, and an escape will be easy for someone of your skills.”

Itachi says nothing. His nails scrape at the table, the polish on them chipping.

“You have two choices,” Danzo says. “Reveal the truth, but doom Konoha in the process. Or you can do what you do best, and keep this village safe at all costs.”

He drops the metal key on the table. Itachi stares at it, only inches away from his fingers.

“Once again, it’s your call.”

Danzo stands up. With those last words, he exits the room. Itachi is left staring down at the table in front of him. His carefully-constructed mask, perfect before the man entered, is now battered and full of cracks.

His words run through Itachi’s head, and they sink into his brain like a sickening poison.

(“I think, if it meant keeping Konoha safe, then you would sacrifice anything. Even your precious little brother.”)

Itachi bites his lip, tasting blood in his mouth. He feels nauseous. You did what you had to, he reminds himself. The only thing you could do.

How many times has he had to say this to himself?

Each time, it feels less like a rationale and more like a desperate self-assurance. If he is doing the right thing, then why does he have to keep repeating the words? Why is he haunted by a nagging sense of despair and self-doubt?

He hates to admit it—refuses to—but sometimes, Itachi thinks that he’s playing against himself. It’s difficult to remain sure when he suspects that it’s his own mistakes and flaws that are ensnaring him. That in trying to protect his brother, it’s his own decisions that are driving him toward his downfall.

He isn’t sure he knows himself anymore, and it’s terrifying.

His hand reaches out, his fingers curling around the key. The metal bites into his palm. He feels oddly detached from himself, and he thinks faintly that there must have been a time when he did not view the world through such a specific lens.

A time when the world didn’t seem like an endless game of shogi with an invisible opponent. A time when he hesitated more, when he was much more conscious of his own morals.

These days, Itachi finds himself all too readily crossing the black and white lines. And all too soon, the world seems less defined and more like an ambiguous, dark smudge of charcoal.

Itachi thinks about Sasuke curled up in a corner, shaking like a leaf. The sound of sobbing coming from the other side of the door. He thinks about how badly he wishes he could take it back—and then wonders if he actually would.

If he was given the chance… would he really take it back? Would he really change anything?

No, he realizes, and that’s the most shameful truth of all. No, I wouldn’t change a thing.

That’s the part that kills him to realize—that even if he had somehow foreseen this, Itachi knows he wouldn’t have changed any of his decisions, wouldn’t have played this any differently. From beginning to end, he would have moved his pieces exactly the same.

He can’t second-guess his choices. He doesn’t have the luxury to. He’s made so many sacrifices that he’s become bound by them; obligated by the blood spilled to endure and see that everything will finally come to an end.

Itachi turns his palm up, his eyes locked on the key in his hand. He’s left with something that’s not quite guilt and not quite regret, but something deeper and darker that unfurls its thorns inside him.

He’s left with decisions he wishes he never had to make, but cannot afford to take back.

“He did what?”

Jiraiya winces from Tsunade’s loud exclamation. “Went to visit Itachi at the prison. I followed him there. I thought about stopping him, but I decided to wait and see how it played out.”

“And he just walked right in? Where the hell was Ibiki?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t see him. But he was only in the room for a few minutes.”

Tsunade lets out a growl. She slams her fist down onto the desk, causing it to shake. “Damn that man! What is he up to?”

“There are security tapes in the room,” Jiraiya tells her. “We can have them looked over. We might not be able to hear what they’re saying, but—”

“Get him in here,” she demands, her fists shaking at her sides. “I don’t care if you have to drag him by the ankles, I want him in this office—"

There’s a knock on the office door, and a shinobi in a mask steps into the room. “Hokage-sama?”

Tsunade spins around. “Not now!”

The ANBU member steps into the room anyway. “But it’s urgent—"

“Fine,” she says in a harsh voice, flicking her hair from her face as she turns to face the masked messenger. “What is it?”

“It’s Itachi Uchiha. He’s escaped.”

Chapter Text

Kakashi stares at her incredulously. “What do you mean he’s escaped?”

Tsunade clenches her jaw tight enough to hurt. “What do you mean what do I mean? He’s escaped. I’m fairly certain there’s only one way to interpret those words—”

“I meant how? He was secured.”

Tsunade lets out a growl, pacing the length of floor in front of her desk. “I don’t know! But Danzo definitely had a hand in this—”

Kakashi’s eye narrows sharply. “Danzo? What does he have to do with this?”

Tsunade throws her hands up in the air, her anger rendering her momentarily incapable of speech. Beside her, Jiraiya explains, “He went to visit Itachi, only moments before he broke out. It was only a few minutes ago, so we haven’t looked at the surveillance footage yet. But there’s no way it’s a coincidence.”

Kakashi shakes his head. “What was Danzo even doing visiting him?”

Tsunade bites her lip. She halts her pacing, spinning toward him. “I need you to go after him, now.”

The jounin blinks. “Danzo?”

“No,” she tells him. “Itachi.”

“But you just said—”

“He escaped the prison,” she explains. “But that was less than five minutes ago. He hasn’t breached Konoha’s barriers yet. I would’ve felt it if he did. Which means there’s still time to catch up to him.”

Kakashi looks at her doubtfully. “Even if that’s true—”

“The information in that man’s head is invaluable!” Tsunade declares, her nails digging sharply into her palms. “I will not let him slip away now that he is finally in our grasp!”

Kakashi is still. Tsunade throws an impatient look at him.

“What are you still standing here for?” she yells. “Go after him!”

Kakashi goes. In a gust of wind and leaves, he’s through the window and out of her office. Tsunade takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. She forces her fingers to uncurl, half-moon marks in her skin stinging.

“And you,” she says, turning to Jiraiya. “Get Danzo. But forget about bringing him to my office. I want him brought straight to an interrogation room.”

Jiraiya grimaces. “He won’t like that.”

“I don’t care,” Tsunade snaps. “And find Ibiki. Tell him to bring me those damn surveillance tapes. He has some serious explaining to do about how this managed to happen on his watch.”

Jiraiya makes a face, clearly not pitying the man soon to face Tsunade’s ire. “I’m on it,” he says, and leaves the same way Kakashi left.

Tsunade growls once her office is empty. In a burst of frustration, she slams her fist down on the surface of her desk. The wood splinters and breaks from the force.

Damn that man!

Kakashi knows he has no chance of catching Itachi. He knows, even as he races across the village, that it’s a fool’s errand. Itachi Uchiha will only be caught if he wants to be; that’s the only reason they managed it in the first place.

You can’t lock up someone like Itachi. Not for long, at least.

Still, fool’s errand or not, Kakashi does as Tsunade bids him. Because she’s the Hokage, and he has to obey her. Because Itachi is a valuable resource, and he doesn’t want to lose him.

Because he can’t bear the thought of telling Sasuke his brother slipped their grasp.

Kakashi moves faster. He doesn’t bother trying to sense Itachi’s chakra. In a different environment, he might be able to. But in the heart of the village, he’d have to be a sensory-nin to pick up one specific signature among dozens.

Instead, he bites down on his palm, drawing blood. A black summoning circle appears on the ground when he slams his hand down, and all eight of his ninken appear in front of him. Pakkun, as usual, is settled on top of Bull’s head.

“Boss,” the pug greets him. He looks around, quickly determining their location. “What’s up?”

“I need all of you to split up and track Itachi Uchiha,” Kakashi orders them. “You remember his scent, don’t you?”

Pakkun sniffs, raising his snout in the air in offense. “Of course. You know I never forget a scent.”

“Good,” he says. It’s been over six years since his ninken have needed to track Itachi’s scent—back when he was still a member of Team Ro. “You can come with me to sniff him out. The rest of you fan out in different directions. Let me know as soon as you catch a hint of anything.”

Seven of them immediately take off. Pakkun trades his place on Bull’s head for Kakashi’s shoulder. “So what’s the situation?”

“No time,” Kakashi says. “Just help me track him down. Before he makes it out of Konoha.”

Pakkun is clearly confused about a lot of things. But he nods. Kakashi immediately turns himself toward the border of the village. He doesn’t actually expect any of his ninja hounds will catch Itachi’s scent—not until he’s already long gone, at least—but he’s going to try anyway.

He’s stopped by Naruto, the blonde calling out for him as he passes him on the street.

“Kakashi-sensei!” he says. “Hey, have you seen—oh, hey Pakkun. How are you?”

“Get lost, kid,” Pakkun says from Kakashi’s shoulder. “We’re busy.”

Naruto makes an affronted face. Normally, Kakashi would chide the pug for being so rude, but he doesn’t have the time at the moment.

“I’m sorry, Naruto,” he says. “But I really do have to go.”

His student frowns. He clearly reads something from Kakashi’s face, because he quickly goes from offended to worried. “What is it? Is something wrong? Is it Sasuke?”

“Sasuke’s fine. We’ll talk later, okay?”

Kakashi leaves him behind, feeling vaguely guilty as he hears him yell after him. They’ve reached the boundaries of the village now, nearing the forest that surrounds it.

Then, miraculously, Pakkun says, “I got something. It’s him.”

Kakashi doesn’t dare believe it. No—he doesn’t believe it. It’s too easy. Itachi should be long gone by now.

Is he letting me catch up to him? he wonders. Whatever the reason, Kakashi follows the path Pakkun directs him in.

He catches up to him in a small clearing, surrounded by trees. Itachi looks back at him, his bangs blowing in his face in the breeze. He isn’t surprised; it seems almost as if he’s been waiting.

“Kakashi-san,” he says, in that familiar flat tone. “Don’t bother trying to drag me back. You won’t succeed, and we both know it.”

(Kakashi-san, he calls him. So formal. So impersonal. Kakashi remembers the days that it used to be Kakashi-senpai.)

Pakkun looks between the two of them worriedly. But Kakashi makes a gesture with his hand that the dog interprets easily. He nods his head, popping out of existence. Kakashi’s gaze locks with blood-red eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “I won’t be able to capture you. Not unless you want me to. That’s the only reason Jiraiya and I managed it before, isn’t it?”

Itachi doesn’t respond, but Kakashi doesn’t need him to. He already knows the answer.

He shakes his head at the man in front of him—no, not a man, a boy. Itachi Uchiha is eighteen years old, and how quickly, how easily, people forget that. Even Kakashi is quick to forget, and he knew him back when he was still a foot shorter than him.

“You let us capture you in order to wake Sasuke up from the Tsukuyomi you trapped him in,” he says. “Which I’m assuming was a mistake, by the way you reacted when you were told.”

Kakashi remembers those red eyes, wide in shock, for just a singular moment, before the mask slammed back down. For all that Itachi wanted to hurt his brother, trapping him in a hell without escape hadn’t been his intention.

“It makes no sense,” he continues. “You spare Sasuke’s life over and over, even get yourself caught to help him, yet you torture him mercilessly. You say he is a mere tool to test your own abilities, but you show obvious interest in his own character… Every time you meet him, you make sure to remind him of his hatred for you, you throw your sins in his face to enrage him, to drive him to get better so…”

Kakashi stops. Saying the words out loud, speaking them, has allowed something to click into place. A lightbulb goes off in his brain, and he stares at Itachi with realized understanding. Itachi narrows his eyes at the look.

“You… you want him to kill you!” Kakashi says.

Itachi freezes.

Kakashi can feel his own brain process the information—as so many things that never made sense suddenly connect. He reels, and then pins the Akatsuki member with an accusing gaze.

“It’s true! You’ve ensured that Sasuke seeks power, ensured his hatred for you… all so that he will one day become your slayer. This is your twisted notion of justice, isn’t it? As punishment for killing the entire Uchiha Clan, you plan to lose your life at the hands of its last living member?”

Itachi remains silent. Kakashi feels his hands shake, curling into fists.

Anger hits him. Anger at this man in front of him, whom he once thought he knew. Anger that his student was forced to suffer through such pain, and all of it for this—

Kakashi thinks of Sasuke trapped in the genjutsu, curled up in a ball in the corner of his parents’ room. This? It was all for this?

He shakes his head. “You have no idea what you’re doing!” he yells. “This is selfish—a pathetic way of settling your own debt—running away from your demons! For once in your life, think of your brother—!”

Kakashi doesn’t even see him move. Itachi is standing across the clearing, and suddenly, Kakashi is being yanked forward. Itachi’s hands are locked around the collar of his vest, and the calm within his eyes has shattered.

“My brother is all I think of!”

It’s impossible to forget that Itachi is Sasuke’s brother. But the resemblance has never been more striking as it is now, with his red eyes blazing and his mouth set in a snarl.

Kakashi has seen fury on Sasuke Uchiha numerous times. He’s never seen it on Itachi.

“You know nothing,” he says, and his hands gripping Kakashi’s collar are shaking. “You understand nothing.”

Kakashi is oddly transfixed by the sight—the legendary Itachi Uchiha, clinging to the remnants that remain of his composure. What caused this? he wonders. Kakashi isn’t so arrogant as to believe it was his own words.

He remembers what Tsunade said—about Danzo visiting Itachi just before he escaped. Something the man said rattled Itachi—rattled him enough to send him immediately running for the hills.

Itachi looks down at his hands gripping Kakashi’s collar as if just realizing they were there. He drops them, stepping back to a respectable distance.  

“Everything I’ve ever done has been for him. Everything—”

(His voice sounds almost like he’s trying to convince himself.)

Kakashi’s never seen those eyes anything but calm. Now, there’s an unhinged, almost fragile quality to them he’s never seen. Like a pane of glass with cracks spiderwebbing outward, and the slightest pressure will cause it to shatter.

And Kakashi feels something like fear shoot up his spine as he looks into those eyes. What could Danzo have possibly done—what could he have possibly said—to strip Itachi’s veneer so thin?

Kakashi keeps his gaze steady, refusing to flinch away from those eyes, no matter how much instinct screams at him to. “If that’s true, then come back. Stop running. This isn’t going to help Sasuke. It’s only going to hurt him.”

Itachi seems to regain some of his previous composure. His eyes still burn crimson, but the cracks in them seem to have mended. Or, more likely, have been covered up.

“I’ve already hurt him,” he says, his tone impassive. “I can’t do any worse.”

“You can always do worse.”

Kakashi doesn’t know what he can do. He doesn’t understand Itachi Uchiha. He never has. But he understands Sasuke, understands exactly how Itachi’s actions will impact him.

“You’re that kid’s entire world,” Kakashi says. “Whether it’s because he loves you or because he hates you… you’re all there is for him. If you force him to kill you… there won’t be an after. It’ll break him.”

The muscles in Itachi’s jaw tighten. His eyes flicker away from Kakashi’s, but not before Kakashi spots the conflict within them.

“Take care of him,” he says.

Kakashi wants to stop him—to keep him from leaving. But he knows nothing he does will make a difference.

“I will,” he replies. “But I’m not doing it for you.”

Itachi’s lips curve up into something that’s almost a smile. His body explodes in a flock of crows, disappearing in a whirl of black feathers.

Sasuke’s ears are ringing. The world is fuzzy and distant, and he can’t seem to touch any of it.

“What do you mean… he escaped?”

Kakashi is standing in front of him, but the words he has spoken refuse to penetrate Sasuke’s brain. Instead, they float in the air in front of him, refusing to make sense. Sasuke stares at his sensei, and the room seems to float away from him. He feels he’s outside of his own body.

He tries repeating the words to himself, tries to make them real. Itachi… has escaped.

“He’s gone,” Kakashi says. “He got free. We don’t know how. I caught up to him, but… I’m sorry, Sasuke.”

Sasuke feels like he’s living in two spaces at once, the two spaces refusing to merge. He knows he’s standing in the hospital room, but he can’t feel the ground beneath him. The world is separate, untouchable, unreal.

Kakashi’s face blurs in front of him. Sasuke wonders if he’s breathing. He must be.

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

Itachi has escaped. Except he can’t have escaped, he can’t, because Sasuke just saw him, not even two hours ago. He sat across from him, staring into his eyes, hearing his voice, listening to him. Not even two hours ago he was close enough to touch, sitting there with that cold look on his face. He was right there—

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

—and now Itachi is gone—

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

Sasuke’s vision goes white. Blood roars in his ears, and there’s a loud crack, and pain erupts in his hand—

“Sasuke!”

Sasuke comes back to himself, the world rushing in again. His hand is half-trapped in the hospital wall, the plaster around it cracked and crumbling. He doesn’t even remember throwing the punch.

Sasuke sucks in a sharp breath as the pain hits him. The bones in his hand feel shattered. Kakashi is by his side immediately, a wide-eyed look on his face.

“Jeez, kid. Okay, it’s fine—you’re fine…”

Sasuke is shaking. His hand fucking hurts. Kakashi tries to help him free it from the wall; pieces of crumbling plaster scrape against his skin as he twists his fist, and a quiet whimper escapes his lips.

His fist is pulled free. His knuckles are bloody and scraped, trailing crimson down the rest of his hand. Sasuke tries to flex his fingers, and pain immediately shoots up his arm. His face twists.

His anger flees him as fast as it came. A half-second of blackout rage, and now he feels empty. Hallow. He has no strength to stand, to speak. His eyes feel gritty as he sinks to the floor.

Kakashi follows him down. “Here,” he says softly. “Let me see.”

Sasuke has no energy to respond. He allows Kakashi to gently pull his injured hand closer to him. He examines it closely with a frown, and his thumb brushes slightly against Sasuke’s scraped knuckles. Sasuke hisses, but he clings to the feeling. The pain slices through the haze in his brain, turns the world momentarily sharp again.

“You’ve shattered your knuckles,” his sensei tells him, a touch of disapproval to his voice. He presses a tissue against his knuckles, his grip tightening when Sasuke instinctively tries to jerk away. “Keep this pressed against them. And don’t try to move your fingers.”

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke says quietly.

Kakashi shakes his head. “Don’t be. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

Sasuke feels a pressure behind his eyes, like he wants to cry. But no tears come; he’s already used them all up. Pressed with his back against the door of Itachi’s cell, he sobbed his heart out, until his throat was raw and his voice was hoarse.

Now, Sasuke shakes on the floor of the hospital. He has no more tears left to shed.

Kakashi is sitting closer to him than Sasuke can ever remember him being. His gaze is sad, and his hand reaches out, brushing Sasuke’s hair gently from his forehead.

“This isn’t over,” he says. “We’ll find him, Sasuke.”

Sasuke smiles bitterly. “No. You won’t.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Danzo Shimura is sitting in the same interrogation room previously occupied by Itachi Uchiha. Across from him, Tsunade sits with her hands folded in front of her.

“I warned you, Tsunade,” Danzo says. “You should have killed Itachi as soon as he was in your grasp.”

He has cooperated willing, and so he is not bound in chains. His hands are free, settled in a position identical to hers.

Tsunade’s jaw tightens at the words. “You know very well why I kept him alive. Just as you know very well that this mess is your doing. Do you take me for a fool?”

Ibiki was not on duty when Danzo snuck into the prison for a chat with their highest-security prisoner. None of the intelligence operatives working at the time had seen him, and the security tape from the room had been mysteriously wiped. But Jiraiya clearly witnessed him entering the building.

“You visited Itachi Uchiha here, in this room, less than an hour before he made his escape,” Tsunade says. “Did you truly believe you wouldn’t be suspected of aiding him in some way?”

Danzo leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. “Is paying a visit to a prisoner really enough to cast suspicion upon me? Sasuke Uchiha paid him a visit just before I did. Is he being interrogated as well?”

She blinks in surprise, her anger disappearing for a moment. “Sasuke visited him? How do you know this?”

“I caught him running from the building just as I got there, and I assumed it was his brother he was there for. The poor boy looked quite distraught.”

Tsunade processes this information with a frown. Due to the security footage being wiped, she hadn’t known of any other visitors to Itachi’s cell block that day. That damn brat—she specifically forbade him from going there…

Are you really surprised he disobeyed?

Tsunade sighs. No, she really isn’t. She’ll need to talk to the boy sometime after this. And to tell Kakashi to keep a better eye on his students. All three of them are sneaking into places they shouldn’t be.

“You were the last person to see him before he bolted. Just before he bolted. And you have a motive for setting him free. You were against trying to capture him from the start.”

“I was against trying to capture him alive, yes,” says Danzo. “It was too much of a risk, as has now been proven. And you were gambling the lives of two of Konoha’s most powerful shinobi.”

“Many lives have been gambled for less,” Tsunade replies. “You’ve gambled many lives for less. It seems to me that you're trying to hide something.”

“What would I have to hide?”

“If I knew that, then we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

Danzo doesn’t respond to these words. He seems unerringly calm, despite the position he’s in. He’s always been a man who has acted like the world is his privilege, like everyone else is expected to step out of his way wherever he walks, and Tsunade has always despised him for this attitude.

He was her sensei’s teammate and comrade, and she understands his reasons for keeping him around. But most of the time, she wonders if it’s worth it.

“I know you and Itachi have history with each other,” she says. “You authorized his promotion to ANBU captain at twelve. The document has your signature on it.”

“I remember appointing him,” Danzo replies easily. “It was a bit of a special case, him being so young. But I promoted many ANBU members while supervising the division with Hiruzen.”

“I’m aware of this,” she says. “However, your power in ANBU only applied to the operatives working under you. Itachi Uchiha was never a part of your Foundation. He was a member of Team Ro, a squad working directly under the Hokage. The decision to promote Itachi should have been his, not yours.”

The man’s mouth thins slightly. “It’s true that Itachi was never a part of the Foundation. However, his skillset was unique and invaluable. Hiruzen often lent him out to me for certain missions.”

“I went through his file. I didn’t see any mission assignments that were given by you.”

“Some missions are too classified to put down on paper,” Danzo tells her, a tone of scorn in his voice. “I know you are only recently Hokage, but surely you are aware of this. Some assignments are known only to the elders and the current Hokage. Once they are done, they no longer exist.”

Tsunade knows this to be true. She may not have ever been ANBU herself, but she knows the type of work employed by its operatives. Shinobi who carry out their missions from the shadows, bloody deeds that never see the light of day.

But this isn’t what her mind latches onto. Danzo has revealed more than he seems to think with his words.

Missions too classified to put on paper. Could it be…?

Tsunade thinks back to Itachi’s words, during her first visit to his interrogation room. It had seemed like a pointless, throwaway remark…

(“Konoha doesn’t perform executions anymore.”

“Not publicly.”)

There’s a dark suspicion building in her gut, when she considers that the words might have actually held meaning, and she prays, prays that she’s wrong.

Because if she’s anywhere even close to right…

“Now, Tsunade,” Danzo says. “Do you have anything to actually charge me with, or am I to sit here and listen to baseless accusations?”

Tsunade locks her jaw, her clasped hands tightening, nails pressing into her skin. She doesn’t have anything she can actually hold him for—all the evidence against him is circumstantial. Without something solid, she can’t give authorization for Inoichi to get into his head.

She can’t keep him here for too long without proper evidence of something. Which means she needs to find something, fast, before the wily old fox slips through her fingers again.

She stands from her chair. “Get comfortable,” she tells him, ignoring his question. “Because I’m not letting you get out of this one.”

She walks from the room, letting the door shut with a heavy thud behind her. She walks down the halls, turning a corner into the room where Ibiki is sitting, attempting to recover the missing security footage.

He’s sitting in front of the screen, watching live-footage of Danzo in the room she just left. Tsunade stares down at his image, her lip curling.

“You saw all of that?”

“I did,” Ibiki says. “I was able to read his lips well enough. A whole lot of nothing, huh?”

“Actually, he gave me more than he meant to,” Tsunade says. Ibiki raises an eyebrow, but before he can ask, she cuts him off. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me Sasuke Uchiha visited Itachi? Were you off duty then too?”

Ibiki winces. “No. I was there when he came by. I allowed him into the room. I thought he might be able to get Itachi to let something slip. And he did. I was on my way to tell you when the escape happened.”

The scarred man makes an irritated face, his lips twisting. He’s already harshly punished the subordinates who were working in his place at the time.

“He did?” Tsunade says in surprise. “Itachi revealed something?”

“Nothing about the Akatsuki. But the kid figured out that someone else helped Itachi massacre his clan—another Uchiha. Itachi confirmed it.”

“Another Uchiha? Did he say who it was?”

“No.” Ibiki hesitates for a moment, a troubled expression coming over his face. “But—when Inoichi was attempting to get into his mind… Itachi locked him out almost completely, but he did let a single name slip.”

“A name?” Tsunade repeats. The look on Ibiki’s face causes dread to curl up her spine. “What name?”

“…Madara.”

“Are you sure about this?” Kakashi asks.

Sasuke scowls from the hospital bed. His right hand is gripping a pen awkwardly, his left useless against the mattress. The release papers are settled on his lap, as he ignores his sensei’s disapproval.

“I can’t stand this place,” he says. “The smell of it makes me sick. I just want to go home.”

He struggles to hold the pen correctly in his nondominant hand, experiencing a surge of helpless frustration. He signs his name messily on the page, and his signature is barely legible. His scowl deepens.

Stupid injured hand.

Sasuke’s left hand is wrapped in bandages. In punching the hospital wall yesterday, he managed to shatter three of his knuckles and break two of his fingers. This has caused him endless frustration, due to the fact that he’s lefthanded, and Tsunade has refused to heal the injury.

It can heal the normal way, she told him. Consider it payment for punching a hole through the hospital wall.

How about you heal me, and I’ll consider it payment for letting Itachi fucking escape, he snapped back at her viciously.

She didn’t appreciate that comment. Sasuke didn’t really fucking care.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi says, his visible eye curved down. “I can’t approve of you signing yourself out so soon. I certainly can’t approve of you going back to that house. Not after what you’ve just been through.”

“That’s why I’m signing myself out,” he says. “It’s not your decision, and I don’t need your permission.”

Kakashi sighs in displeasure. He sits down on the edge of the bed, causing Sasuke to frown.

“Fine. I understand wanting to get out of here. The hospital definitely isn’t my favorite place, either. But going back to the Uchiha District? That’s a bad idea, and you know it.”

Sasuke’s hand shakes slightly around his pen, as he sees the image of it in his mind. The compound’s streets, littered in bodies. Slipping in blood—you’re not even worth killing—

He takes a shaky breath and grips the pen tightly. “I’ll be fine. It’s my home.”

“Yes,” the jounin says. “It is. It’s also the place where your family was killed, which you spent thirteen days reliving. Going back there isn’t going to help you recover—”

“I don’t need to recover!” Sasuke snaps, his eyes snapping up. “It’s over! I’m fine!”

Red eyes, spinning, spinning spinning. His mother’s fingers reaching toward him—a hand around his throat—

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

Sasuke stands abruptly. The expression on Kakashi’s face looks overwhelmingly like pity, and it makes him want to hit something. It makes him want to punch another wall.

“I’ll be fine,” he repeats, in a calmer voice. “Home is better. It’s this place that’s killing me.”

He grips the release form in his hand to take down to the front desk. Kakashi seems to accept that he isn’t going to be able to stop him, not without using force, because his shoulders drop in resignation.

“Fine,” he says, standing from the bed. “If that’s really what you want. But you know where I live. If it’s too much—if you need somewhere else to stay—”

“I won’t.”

“If you do.”

Sasuke hesitates, glancing up at his sensei. “…If I do.”

Kakashi’s face relaxes slightly. He passes Sasuke, opening the door and holding it open for him. “By the way, I’m resuming training with Naruto and Sakura tomorrow. The usual place. You don’t have to come, but if you want to—”

“I’ll be there,” Sasuke says.

Kakashi’s eye curves up in a smile. “Good. They’ve missed you, you know.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond. But in the silence of his mind, he admits he misses them too.

Half an hour after the shocking revelation of the name Madara Uchiha—Impossible, Tsunade’s brain tells her, he must have heard wrong—she stands in front of Konoha’s two elders, staring them down fiercely.

“You heard me,” Tsunade repeats, after they’ve expressed their shock at her demand. “Itachi. The Uchiha Massacre. I want you to tell me about it. The parts that didn’t get put in the file.”

Koharu and Homura share a look. The emotion in their eyes is impossible to characterize as anything other than fear.

Danzo said that some missions are too dangerous to write down. He also claimed that these missions are known to only the current Hokage and the elders. Sarutobi may be dead, and Danzo may have stitched his lips, but there’s still one more source she can exploit.

And judging by the expressions on their faces, she’s finally hit gold.

Homura shakes his head. “Tsunade-hime, I’m afraid we don’t know what you’re speaking of—”

“Do not bullshit me!” she snaps. Her fist hits the table in front of her, causing a crack to go through the wood. “I have had it up to here with bullshit answers, what I’m looking for is the truth!”

Both of them flinch beneath the focus of her dangerous temper. Her head is still ringing with the unbelievable name Madara, and her tolerance for duplicity has gone out the window. She is one lie away from grabbing them and shaking the answers from them.

She wonders if that might give them a heart attack. They’re certainly old enough for it to be a concern.

“I have Danzo locked up in an interrogation room right now,” she says, and relishes in the twin looks of horror that pass over their faces. “Inoichi is going to dig into his mind and rip out every single dirty secret, so if you wish for a chance to explain yourselves before then, I suggest you start talking.”

It’s a bluff. Legally, ethically, she has no proof to give Inoichi the license to invade Danzo’s mind without his consent. But they don’t need to know that.

She can see the war going on in their eyes. What to choose? Keep their silence, and allow themselves to be implicated in whatever crimes Danzo’s mind reveals? Or spill the truth now, and spin it in a way that looks better for themselves?

For a long moment, they look at each other. Slowly, Koharu nods. Homura lets out a resigned sigh, his eyes closing.

“It’s a long explanation,” he says. “But there’s one thing, above all else, that you have to understand.”

Tsunade gazes at the two of them coldly. “And what’s that?”

“The Uchiha Clan had to die. And Itachi Uchiha had to be the one to do it…”

Eventually, Sasuke makes his way to the Uchiha District, located at the edge of the village. The sun is blotted out by heavy clouds, looming with the threat of rain. He stops at the gates of the compound, as an icy feeling washes over him. He doesn’t move.

The last time I entered this place...

Bodies in the streets. The ground smeared with blood. Weapons littered everywhere. Death—the sight of it, the smell of it, the taste of it—

No, Sasuke reminds himself, forcing the images back. That wasn’t the last time I was here. That was five years ago.

It used to feel like five years ago. Time had begun to blur the memories. But Itachi’s Tsukuyomi brought it all back, and now it feels like yesterday—

Sasuke steadies his shaking hands. He forces his feeling of fear down. The irrational belief that Itachi is still inside—still waiting, still ready to finish off the job, still ready to look down at him and call him—

(“Foolish little brother.”)

Sasuke shoves the gates open and steps inside.

His vision flickers. Empty streets and houses are bathed in a red hue. There are bodies on the ground, their expressions twisted, frozen, mangled—

The thick scent of blood invades his nose. The clouds in the sky darken the bright afternoon, creating the illusion of evening. The windows of the houses are shattered, doors hanging off their hinges. And above him, there’s a familiar silhouette sitting atop the tallest building—

(“Foolish little brother.”)

He gags on the metallic taste in the back of his throat, wires of steel constricting his heart. Familiar faces run past him, screaming, screaming, screaming, and Itachi’s eyes are bleeding the same color as the moon, and his mother is reaching out with two fingers—

The pattern in Itachi’s eyes is twisting—

(“Foolish little brother.”)

Sasuke falls to his knees.

The impact travels through him, and he’s kneeling in blood. His hands are covered in it, and he bows his head to the ground, trying to breathe, how does he breathe. His chest cracks right down the middle, and he lets out a whimper, an awful, choked sound of anguish.

His mother’s fingers are reaching, blood gushing from her gaping throat. “Sasuke-kun…”

He squeezes his eyes closed. There’s nothing left inside of him, just this terrible pain, and everything in him is screaming desperately—

(“Foolish little brother.”)

A raindrop hits his forehead, followed by another. They slip down his face, to his lips. The water tastes like blood. Itachi’s fingers are pressing bruises against his throat.

(“You’re not even worth killing.”)

The sky opens up and pours down on him.

A few hours after leaving the hospital, there’s a knock on Kakashi’s apartment door.

Kakashi opens it. Sasuke is standing in the hall outside his door, soaking wet from the rain pouring down outside. Water drips from him, creating a puddle on the floor.

“Sasuke?”

Sasuke’s hair hangs limply in his face, his gaze locked on his feet. His arms are wrapped around himself, and he’s shaking like a leaf. At the sound of his name, he raises his head. There are ghosts in his eyes.

“You were right,” Sasuke whispers. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t…”

Kakashi looks at him in quiet understanding. He doesn’t ask for an explanation—he doesn’t need one. Everything he needs to know is written clearly across the trembling boy’s face.

He opens the door wider and lets his student step inside out of the rain.

Chapter Text

Tsunade has been locked in her office since yesterday afternoon. She hasn’t emerged once.

The sun rises in the sky early, as it always has in the Land of Fire. Shizune stands outside the door to the woman’s office, sleep still clinging to her, as she clutches the pet pig in her arms.

“What do you think?” Shizune asks the animal, trepidation in her voice. “Should we go inside? Surely she’s calmed down by now…”

Late yesterday afternoon, the Godaime returned to her office in a right state. There had been fire in her eyes, in her steps, in every line of her body. When Shizune had attempted to ask what was wrong, she had received the full brunt of Tsunade’s temper, as the woman ordered her to get out. Tonton ran squealing from the room in a fright.

Tonton squeals in her arms now, wriggling slightly. She’s clearly still traumatized.

Shizune pats the pig on the head as she takes a bracing breath. “There, there. It’s time we brave the possible storm.”

She pushes the door to the office open. Tsunade is sitting slumped in her chair. She does not, to Shizune’s relief, appear to be in a temper still. But she does look exhausted, dark circles prominent under her eyes. Her desk and floor are scattered with papers.

She hasn’t slept, Shizune realizes. Whatever she learned yesterday… it’s kept her up all night.

“Tsunade-sama?” she asks. “Are you alright?”

There’s a deep crease in the Godaime’s brow. She doesn’t look up from the files in front of her.

“Fine,” she snaps, but there’s no real anger in the words. They escape her lips like a reflex. “Just… gah!”

She throws the papers down with a harsh exclamation. Her head falls forward, and she runs her hand over her tired face.

“I just can’t believe this. What am I even supposed to do…”

Shizune ignores the mutterings, knowing the woman probably doesn’t even realize she’s speaking out loud. She bends over and releases Tonton from her arms, reaching over to pick up the file that’s scattered on the ground. She slides the pages back into the manila folder.

The label on the file identifies it as belonging to Itachi Uchiha. She sets it on the edge of Tsunade’s desk.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

Tsunade shakes her head immediately. “I can’t. This type of information… if it were to get out…”

Shizune nods. “I understand,”

These past few weeks, now being the Hokage’s aide instead of just Tsunade-sama’s student, she’s been handed a responsibility heavier than she’s ever had before. Many things that have come across the Godaime’s desk aren’t things she has the rank to know about—but due to her closeness, she ends up seeing them anyway.

Tsunade often shares with her things she should not know. But this is a different level of classified, and Shizune can read the severity of it in the stress lines on Tsunade’s face.

Tsunade leans forward with a sigh. She runs her manicured finger, the polish chipped across Itachi’s name on the file. Her eyes swirl with troubled emotions.

“Shizune,” she says after a moment. “You remember my sensei, don’t you? The kind of man he was?”

Shizune blinks at the words. “Yes. I remember him well.”

“Do you think he was a good man? A good leader?”

Her eyebrows furrow at the question. She wonders what this has to do with the Sandaime—is this why her shisou looks so troubled, so distressed?

“Sandaime-sama was always kind to me,” she answers. “He was kind to his village and its people. He treated them all like his own family.”

Tsunade’s expression shutters, and Shizune knows immediately that she’s said something wrong. Her words have had the opposite effect of what she intended, but she doesn’t know why, because she doesn’t know what’s wrong.

“Family,” Tsunade says, her nails scraping against Itachi Uchiha’s file. “Would you allow your own family’s execution? Would you order a child—”

Tsunade takes a shaky breath. She steadies herself, her lips a fine line.

“If you do something horrible—something unspeakable—to stop something even worse, then does that make it right? Is that person still wrong?”

Shizune doesn’t understand. But based on what the woman has said, she’s able to grasp the broader context.

“I think,” she says slowly, careful with her words, “that being Hokage comes with making hard choices. And sometimes none of the choices you can make are good ones. I don’t know what happened or what you discovered. But I know that Lord Third was a good man. Whatever you think he’s responsible for, I’m sure he did the best he could.”

Tsunade stares at her a long moment. The troubled expression doesn’t fade, but she seems to take in her assistant’s words and appreciate them. Her lips curl slightly into a tired smile.

“Thank you, Shizune.”

“Anytime, Tsunade-sama.”

She stares down at the file in front of her, running her fingers repeatedly over the kanji scrawled on the tab. Itachi Uchiha.

“Could you summon Kakashi Hatake, please,” Tsunade says. “There’s something I need to discuss with him.”

For once, Kakashi doesn’t dream of Rin. He doesn’t dream of the crackle of blue lightning, of a cascade of rocks, of bright blonde hair soaked with blood. He doesn’t wake with the feeling of blood on his hands.

Instead, he dreams of red eyes and a black-and-red cloak. He wakes with the phantom sensation of iron bands around his wrists and ankles, a katana repeatedly piercing his gut.

When he walks out of his bedroom that morning to find Sasuke at his kitchen table, his eyes the same blood-red as Kakashi’s nightmare, Kakashi is ashamed by how his heart jumps in panic, his hand going immediately for a weapon.

He relaxes instantly, once it becomes clear that the person sitting in his apartment is his student, not Itachi Uchiha. He forces his heartbeat to steady.

He has another moment where he wonders what the kid is doing there, before the events of last night rush back. Right. I told him he could stay.

Sasuke is sitting with a cup of tea in front of him, his Sharingan activated. Kakashi shakes off his uneasiness at the sight of that eye, venturing closer.

“Sasuke?”

Sasuke doesn’t respond. He’s staring ahead blankly, his eyes burning scarlet.

Kakashi winces. He’s seen this dozens of times before—but on seasoned shinobi, never on a genin. He walks forward slowly, careful not to startle him, and pulls back the opposite chair. He sits down and leans forward.

It doesn’t seem like a serious dissociative episode. Kakashi’s seen some pretty bad ones while in ANBU, some of which led to a complete mental breakdown. One extremely memorable one, with Tenzo, had nearly ended with him getting his throat slashed open.

This one isn’t extreme. Whatever Sasuke is seeing right now, there’s still awareness in his eyes. Kakashi reaches out to place a hand over his arm.

“Sasuke?”

A single touch is all it takes. Something flickers in Sasuke’s eyes. His Sharingan shuts off as he blinks, coming back to the room he’s in.

“Kakashi?” he says with a frown.

“You okay?” Kakashi says. “You spaced out.”

He keeps his tone casual, uses the words spaced out, as if Sasuke was simply lost in thought rather than trapped in a flashback. Sasuke hates to be vulnerable, and if Kakashi draws attention to it, he’ll be quick to shut down. Kakashi gives him the opportunity to pretend it didn’t happen.

Sasuke takes the out, even as he no doubt recognizes it for what it is. “I’m fine. Your tea is garbage, by the way.”

“Watch it,” Kakashi says. “I’ll have you know, that tea was a gift. If it’s so awful, why are you drinking it then?”

Sasuke raises the mug to his mouth. “Because I need something to wake me up, and you don’t have any coffee.”

“Sorry. I’m not allowed to have coffee. Gai says I have a caffeine addiction. He comes by every week to search my cupboards.”

Sasuke huffs slightly.

Kakashi looks him over. He’s already dressed for the day, his clothes showing no sign of the damage they suffered last night in the heavy rain. His hitai-ate is tied around his head, and it’s only when he sees it there that Kakashi realizes he hasn’t seen Sasuke wear it lately. Not since before—

—before Itachi.

Kakashi shifts his thoughts away from the memory of a katana in his stomach—a seven-year-old child curled up in the corner of a blood-soaked room.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

“I slept,” Sasuke answers, in a tone that Kakashi has leaned to recognize as drop-it-I-don’t-want-to-talk. “That’s something at least.”

Kakashi nods. If Sasuke had any nightmares last night, he didn’t hear. But Kakashi’s always kept his own nightmares silent, so that doesn’t mean anything.

“Sorry I didn’t have an extra room. Sleeping on the couch couldn’t have been comfortable.”

His student shrugs. “It’s not like I haven’t slept in worse places while on missions. I’ve slept on the ground all the time.”

Kakashi glances at him discretely, looking him over without making it obvious he’s doing so. There are dark circles under his eyes, but he looks incredibly put together. The bandage on his hand and the fading bruise on his throat is the only sign that the last two and a half weeks have happened.

Sasuke looks nothing like he did last night in his doorway, fragile and trembling. Kakashi can almost believe that he’s okay, if not for the fact that he’s sitting in his apartment.

Sasuke can pretend he’s fine. But Kakashi knows what a face looks like just before it’s about to break. He’s seen it in the mirror often enough, has covered it up to keep anyone else from seeing it, too. And Sasuke has fracture lines all over him.

All it would take is a single push. A slight pressure. And then, well—

—shatter.

If possible, Kakashi would like to keep that from happening.

“Well, are we going to get to training?” Sasuke asks. “I’ve been ready to leave for nearly an hour.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes. “Hold on, would you? I just got up.”

“It’s already nearly seven, you know. Just because you’re five hours late every time doesn’t mean I’m going to be.”

“Five hours? That’s a bit of an exaggeration—”

“No it isn’t.”

Kakashi opens his mouth to retort when there’s a knock on the door. Kakashi turns his head toward it with a frown before getting up.

“Shizune,” he says, with slight surprise, as he opens the door to see the dark-haired women standing there. He’s only spoken with the Godaime’s aide on a few occasions, and all times have been extremely brief. “I assume I’ve been summoned?”

“You have,” she affirms. “Tsunade-sama wants you in her office immediately.”

“Did she say why?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t allowed to know.”

Kakashi nods. With the door still open, he turns back to the preteen sitting at his table. Sasuke is making no effort to hide that he’s listening to their conversation.

“No training then,” he says.

“You can still train,” Kakashi tells him. “You’ll just have to do it without me for a while. This shouldn’t take too long. Just tell Naruto and Sakura I’ll be a bit late.”

“So no different from usual, then.”

Kakashi glares at him slightly at the remark. “Watch it,” he says. “I’m letting you sleep on my couch. I could kick you out at any time.”

They both know he won’t do it. And though Sasuke’s not the type to speak it out loud, Kakashi can read the silent gratitude that’s there.

I know, his eyes say, even as he scoffs dismissively. Thank you. For letting me stay.

Sakura’s already been at the training field for fifteen minutes when Sasuke shows up. She brightens the moment she sees him, a smile forming on her face.

“Sasuke-kun! I knew you were out of the hospital, but I didn’t know you were coming to training!”

She went to see him yesterday only to be told that he’d been released earlier that day. She wanted to check on him, after hearing that Itachi Uchiha had escaped—but she realized that she didn’t know where he lived.

She looks him over now. He looks a lot better than he did in the hospital, and the bruise around his neck has almost faded completely. He’s extremely pale under the morning sun.

“Where’s Naruto?” he asks.

Sakura shrugs. “I don’t know. He and Kakashi-sensei are both late.”

“Kakashi was summoned by the Hokage,” Sasuke tells her. “He said to get started training without him.”

She blinks. “Oh. Okay. How do you know?”

“…I stayed with him last night.”

There’s a slight hesitation before he says the words. Sakura feels a flash of surprise. Sasuke-kun stayed over Kakashi-sensei’s? I don’t even know where his apartment is!

Sakura wonders why Sasuke stayed with him, but he already looks uncomfortable. So she doesn’t press him on the topic any further, even though she’s curious.

“What should we do then?”

Sasuke considers the question for a moment. “Have you learned to walk on water yet?”

The floor spins beneath Kakashi’s feet, as he struggles to process this horrifying truth. The massacre of the Uchiha Clan was ordered by Konoha.

He wishes he had a chair to sink into. Something to lean against. But he’s standing in the Hokage’s office, and Tsunade is in front of him, her expression darker than he’s ever seen it.

Her words ring in his ears, the reality of them slowly sinking in. Planning a coup… Itachi a double agent… Danzo… to spare Sasuke…

He recalls just two days ago, chasing after Itachi. You know nothing, the missing-nin had snarled at him, hands tightly gripping the collar of his vest. You understand nothing.

“Dammit,” Kakashi hisses. He spins around, gripping the windowsill for support. “Dammit!”

He wants to punch something. He settles for tightening his hold on the windowsill, marble edges digging into his palms. A dozen tiny little things that never made any sense by themselves come together in his mind, now forming a very clear picture.

(Red eyes blazing. “My brother is all I think of!”)

But what does this mean? What does this change? It changes everything about the situation, of course, but does it change anything about Itachi? Ordered or not, choice or not, he’s still an Akatsuki member. He still brutally tortured his brother, and nothing, nothing, can ever excuse—

But Kakashi remembers that thirteen-year-old kid. He feels sick. A child—

“Why?!” Kakashi demands angrily, spinning back toward the Godaime. “Why would you tell me this?!”

“You’re directly involved,” Tsunade says, her mouth thinning. “Would you rather I didn’t tell you?”

“Yes! Because now that you have, I have to keep it from him!”

Sasuke can’t know. The idea is unthinkable. Not now, when his mental state is so fragile. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. The knowledge would shatter him. He would break.

And now, Kakashi is going to have to look him in the eyes, this hateful knowledge burning in his chest.

“Sasuke can’t know about this,” he says. “You know he can’t know about this. Yet you told me anyway.”

Tsunade, to her credit, looks regretful. Good. She should. Kakashi doesn’t want to know this. Not when he has a broken boy taking up residence in his apartment, destroying himself with questions of why, why, why. And now Kakashi knows the answers—or, he knows some of them, anyway—and he isn’t allowed to open his mouth—

Because speaking this secret could put Konoha at risk. Because speaking this secret to Sasuke…

I don’t want to know this, Kakashi thinks. How am I supposed to look at him, now that I know it?

“Why did you tell me,” he repeats, quieter this time.

Tsunade clenches her jaw. She seems to make an effort to banish any emotions she might have, standing straight and professional. Like a Hokage. Pretending she isn’t just as affected by this revelation as he is.

“I don’t know the whole story,” she says. “Only what the elders have told me, and I don’t trust them enough to take everything they say at face value. And they know nothing of Itachi’s current involvement with the Akatsuki. Until I know more, I can’t make any moves.”

“And Danzo?” Kakashi asks.

Saying the name makes Kakashi sick. He always hated the man for his manipulations, but to think he would do something like this…

Except it isn’t that simple, is it? If the Uchiha were planning a revolt, then they needed to be stopped… there was no choice…

But why Itachi? Why force a child to kill his own family?

Kakashi closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how he feels about this. Like Tsunade, he knows too little.

“Danzo is still locked up,” Tsunade replies. “He’s going to stay there until I figure out what to do with him. But if I’m going to do this, I need Sasuke out of the way. He cannot get involved, understand?”

Kakashi tightens his jaw. He hates it, but he understands. “What should I do?”

“I’ll assign your team a mission,” she tells him. “Something simple, but that will get you out of the village for a bit. A C-Rank. It’s been a while since they’ve been on one, anyway.”

It has been a while. Since before the Chuunin Exams. Kakashi isn’t looking forward to having to keep what he knows from Sasuke, but a mission assignment might be good for them.

“Alright,” Kakashi agrees. “I’ll do it. But C-Rank better mean C-Rank this time. I don’t want another incident like the Land of Waves.”

Sakura falls into the lake for the fifth time that afternoon. Her clothes and hair are soaking wet, and she chokes as the water floods into her nose.

“Water is different than climbing trees,” Sasuke tells her. “It moves. You have to move your chakra with it.”

Sakura scowls as she pushes herself back to her feet. They’re standing out by the docks, and the water reaches up to her waist. Sasuke is standing close to her, his feet easily keeping balance on the surface of the lake.

She looks up at him. He’s completely dry, not a splash of water on him. It makes Sakura feel like she’s being mocked.

“I don’t understand,” she says with a huff. “Walking up trees was so easy. This is the same concept. Why is it so much harder?”

“I told you,” he says. “Water is different. It’s more difficult to master. It’s a liquid, which means it’s constantly shifting. You have to constantly shift your chakra with it. It’s not like sticking to a tree.”

Sakura sighs. She stares at Sasuke’s feet, standing on the water like a solid surface. She pulls her chakra to the soles of her feet and tries again.

She stands. She’s unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face, as she doesn’t splash back down, but instead stands on the surface. She walks a few steps, carefully matching her chakra level to the shifting waters beneath her. She remains steady, and her smile is reflected in her reflection below her.

“Sasuke-kun, I did it!”

Sasuke throws a kick at her without warning. Eyes widening, she jumps back to avoid it—and splashes right back into the lake.

She chokes as water floods her nose and mouth, coughing. She pushes her dripping hair from her face, glaring. “What the hell was that?”

“Walking on water is one thing,” Sasuke says. “Fighting on water is another. You can’t ever lose your focus.”

Sakura glares. When they first began, she was thrilled Sasuke was actually helping her instead of just ignoring her. Now, watching his perfect balance, she feels irritated.

“Never lose your focus, huh? You mean like this?”

Without warning, she tackles him. Sasuke’s eyes widen, and Sakura feels a vicious surge of satisfaction as they both go crashing beneath the water.

“Sakura!”

A few minutes later, both of them are sitting on the dock, utterly drenched. Sakura is attempting to stifle her giggling as Sasuke wrings the water from his hair.

“Stop laughing,” he hisses, and he looks angry enough to use his Sharingan. “It’s not funny.”

Sakura covers her mouth as another giggle escapes her. He’s trying to look intimidating, but the affect is lost when he looks like a drowned cat. He looks adorable, actually, not that she’s stupid enough to tell him that.

“It’s kind of funny,” she says with a smile. “Besides, it’s your own fault for falling in. I thought you said to never lose focus?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to tackle me!”

“You started it by kicking me.”

Sasuke scowls and doesn’t respond. He runs his fingers through the hair at the back of his head, trying to get it back to its usual style. Sakura watches him silently.

There’s something fragile about the moment. Sasuke is illuminated by the sun above them, and Sakura’s breath catches. He’s gazing out over the lake with a look in his eyes that suggests he’s not present in his body.

The breeze stirs his hair. He looks gorgeous like this. He looks breakable too.

“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura says softly, breaking the stillness. “Are you okay?”

Sasuke tenses slightly. He doesn’t look at her, keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon. Emotion glimmers in his eyes.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” she tells him. “You don’t have to be okay, you know. You don’t have to pretend.”

Sasuke bites his bottom lip. His left hand, the broken one, with the now-soaked bandages, clenches into a fist. It must hurt to move it, but he does it anyway, and something about the action makes tears spring to her eyes.

She wonders if Sasuke even knows how to not be okay. She wonders if he even knows how to let his walls drop.

She thinks of that seven-year-old child who returned to the Academy missing his smile, an empty look in his eyes. Sasuke-kun…

Before she makes a conscious decision to do it, her arms have wrapped around him. Sasuke goes stiff immediately, but Sakura doesn’t pull back. She only tightens her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I wish you could have your family back, Sasuke-kun. I wish I could give them back to you.”

Sasuke is rigid in her embrace. She can feel his breath against her neck. Then slowly, so, so slowly, he relaxes. His spine curves as his body bends into hers. His chin drops against her shoulder.

He doesn’t hug her back, but that’s okay. She doesn’t need him to.

“Itachi’s still out there,” Sasuke says quietly. “I have to find him.”

Sakura tightens her arms. “You won’t be alone,” she promises.

It seems like they stay like that for a long time, though it’s probably only a few moments. A month ago, Sakura would have given up her left kidney to be in this position, to be so close. Now, she just wants him to smile.

She blinks away the tears stinging her eyes. A shinobi never shows tears.

Kakashi shows up around ten minutes later, proclaiming he’d been looking for them. He raises an eyebrow at their soaking clothes.

“What have you two been doing? Going swimming?”

“You’re late,” Sakura accuses. “Sasuke-kun was teaching me to walk on water, since you didn’t seem to be bothered with showing up.”

“Yes, but this time I have a genuine excuse.” Kakashi brandishes a scroll, his eye curving up. “We’ve been given a mission by Godaime-sama. Come on, let’s go.”

Sasuke glares at him. “What, right now?”

“Yep.”

“I’m soaked!” Sakura complains. “Have you seen my hair? I can’t leave looking like this!”

“Then go change,” Kakashi says, tucking the mission scroll away in his belt. “And one of you go find Naruto. We leave in an hour.”

Chapter Text

It’s raining heavily in Amegakure, as usual. As his hair becomes thoroughly soaked, Itachi finds himself missing the sunny skies of Konoha.

By the time he reaches headquarters, he’s completely drenched. The water has soaked through his cloak to the clothes he’s wearing underneath. His bangs stick to his cheeks. He steps inside, the warmth hitting him immediately.

“Itachi,” Sasori says in surprise when he sees him. “You’re back.”

The main room is occupied by three of them. Deidara and Kakuzu are sitting around a table, playing what looks to be a game of karuta with Sasori. Deidara scowls when he sees him. Kakazu’s expression doesn’t change.

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Kakuzu says in his low voice. “Kisame said you’d been kidnapped by Konoha.”

He sounds skeptical of this claim, looking Itachi over for any sign of what might have transpired. His eyes narrow when he finds nothing.

“We thought you might be dead,” Sasori says, and there’s actually a thread of relief in his voice.

“I was captured by Konoha,” Itachi tells them. “But I am unharmed.”

“How unfortunate,” Deidara mutters.

Itachi ignores him. “Where’s Leader-sama?”

“Where he usually is.”

Itachi nods. He pushes his dripping bangs out of his eyes, and Kakuzu glances at him as he throws a card down.

“You look like a drowned rat,” he tells him.

“More like a drowned weasel,” Deidara says with a cackle. “Get it, un? Because his name—”

“We get it. Shut up and play your turn.”

Itachi walks past the three of them, toward the staircase on the other side of the room. No more than half a minute later, he hears the familiar sound of Deidara yelling. One of them must have insulted his art again.

He walks up the stairs, toward the very top of the tower. He looks down at his feet as he walks, and his vision is blurred in his right eye. There’s a persistent ache in it that hasn’t gone away.

He sees his brother’s face. He sees the shattered look in his eyes. Tell me it was more than that. Tell me I’m more than that.

The key to his cuffs is still stuffed in his pockets. Itachi climbs the steps, and he feels it weighing him down. He wonders if he’s in the wrong place. If he’s walking in the right direction.

He clenches his teeth, trying to push down his feeling of wrongness. The doubts that nag at his mind.

Who is right? Who is wrong? Was leaving the right choice?

He shoves his uncertainty down as he reaches the top floor. Madara will be able to sense it. He can’t show any of it while in his presence.

Itachi enters the room without knocking. Madara no doubt sensed him when he entered the building. Nagato would have sensed him the moment he crossed the village boundaries.

It is as he expected. None of them look surprised when they see him. Pain is standing near the open balcony that looks out over Amegakure, and he turns his head when Itachi enters. Madara already has his gaze on him, Sharingan burning beneath his mask.

“Itachi,” Pain says, stepping up to him. “I was surprised when I sensed you. We heard you had been captured.”

“I was,” Itachi tells him, inclining his head. “But escape wasn’t hard. I made my way back here as fast as I was able.”

Pain narrows his swirling purple eyes. “You were held at their mercy for a few days. Yet they did not kill you?”

“They wanted information,” Madara speaks up. “Am I right?”

The only part of him Itachi can see is his eyes. They are sharp beneath his mask, and Itachi hates not being able to properly read his face.

“They did,” he confirms. “But I gave them nothing.”

After a moment of studying him, Pain seems to take this as truth. Madara, however, keeps his gaze locked on Itachi.

“Nagato,” he says. “I would like to speak to Itachi alone, if you don’t mind.”

Pain hesitates a moment. Itachi tips his head slightly. Pain acquiesces, and he brushes a hand over Itachi’s shoulder as he passes.

“I am glad to hear you are alright.”

The sentiment is genuine. It’s sentiments like this that begin to blur the lines for Itachi. With members like Kakuzu and Hidan, it’s easy to remember where he stands. But with some of the others, it isn’t so black and white. Nagato truly cares, truly believes what he’s doing is for the good of everyone.

Sometimes, Itachi finds himself believing what he’s saying.

Pain leaves, most likely back to his real body, or to go find Konan. Itachi is left alone with Madara, and the man’s gaze feels like senbon prickling against his skin.

“I’m being truthful,” Itachi is quick to assure him. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

(Nothing—except the tiny whisper of Madara Uchiha that he allowed them to pull from his brain.)

“I hope not,” Madara says. “I know you still care for that brother of yours back in Konoha.”

Itachi tenses just slightly. Sasuke’s face flashes once more in front of his eyes. Tell me I’m more than that—

Madara steps closer. “I know the bond of a brother well. I merely hope your loyalty to him doesn’t override your loyalty to us.”

Itachi feels a spark of anger in his chest. Madara stole his own little brother’s eyes—he understands nothing of Itachi’s feelings for Sasuke—

(Sasuke who he has tortured—destroyed—)

“I am Itachi Uchiha of the Akatsuki,” he tells him. “As I have been from the moment I joined.”

Madara looks at him from behind the mask. He inclines his head.

“Very well. I believe you. You should go let Kisame know you’ve returned. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

Is it just Itachi’s imagination, or do those words hold a strange sharpness? He feels a sense of wrongness prickle over his skin.

Itachi brushes a strand of wet hair from his face, keeping his expression blank. “I will. Thank you.”

Madara’s gaze stays on his back as he turns from the room, and its intention is impossible to mistake. He’s being watched. Closely.

This is stupid, Sasuke thinks. A foolish attempt to pretend like everything is normal.

Restless irritation prickles in his chest. His injured hand tightens around the straps of his backpack, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his arm. He stares at Kakashi’s back.

It’s been about twenty minutes since they’ve left the village, and the four of them have fallen into a rhythmic silence. Sakura and Naruto are walking slightly ahead of him, and they keep shooting him glances that Sasuke pretends he can’t see.

Red eyes flash through his mind. His hand tightens again.

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

“Come on, you guys,” Kakashi says, looking back at the three of them. “We need to pick up the pace. We’ll be taking this path until we reach the Land of Rivers. After that, it’ll be about half a day’s travel by the trees.”

Sakura pushes ahead of her two teammates, catching up to the jounin. “Sensei, how important is this document we’re delivering?”

She glances back at Sasuke as she asks this. Sasuke pretends not to notice, his gaze on the path in front of him.

Kakashi answers her question, but his voice comes back muffled. Sasuke is aware that he’s falling too far behind, but he can’t bring himself to increase his pace. He has no energy for it.

This mission is a joke. It’s pointless. And Itachi is out there, most likely inserting himself right back into the Akatsuki’s ranks, as if the last few days never even happened—

(“You want to die.”)

As if he didn’t shatter Sasuke’s entire world with one simple realization.

Sasuke can feel the cracks in his mind as he thinks about it. He remembers the last five years of his life, can feel them stretching out before him like a record. Five years of hating his brother, of making revenge his only goal, and in a few short seconds—

(“That’s why you left me alive.”)

Itachi wants to die—he wants Sasuke to take his revenge, to grow strong enough to kill him. He’s been nothing more than a tool this whole time. His brother pointed him in a direction, and he followed it without question.

Itachi told him to hate him. He told him to keep living in order to kill him. And that’s exactly what he did.

Nothing has changed. He’s still that same little kid clinging blindly to his older brother’s words. Cutting his bare feet on the ground in an effort to catch up.

If his goal for the past five years has been to kill Itachi… but that’s exactly what Itachi wants… then what was the point of any of it? What is he going to do now? Why is he even alive?

The last thought is a dark one, the likes of which he hasn’t felt since the days after the massacre. Back before his anger took hold, when it was despair that consumed him instead. He feels like that now—claws digging in, dragging him under.

Without revenge to carry him, what else does he have to live for?

There’s a kunai tucked away at his waist. For a moment, Sasuke thinks about how easy it would be to slice it across his neck. How quick.

What would you do then, he thinks at Itachi viciously, his fingers shaking around the strap of his bag. Who would kill you then, you coward? Would you do it yourself?

So easy. So quick. He’s thought about it before, blade pressed against his throat, but his anger has always halted him—

Who will avenge them if I'm dead?

“Sasuke!” Kakashi calls back to him. “Stop lagging behind!”

Sasuke snaps quickly from his thoughts. His hair is still damp from the lake, as is his forehead protector, and he shivers as a strong wind blows by. He walks faster, unaware he had fallen so far behind.

Sakura is looking at him in concern, and her gaze prickles across his skin like ants. He wants to snap at her to stop, but he remembers her kindness on the docks earlier, and it halts his words.

I’m sorry, she had said. Her arms had been warm. Like his mother’s.

The thought of her is like a kunai in his heart. He remembers Itachi standing behind her—

“Are you alright?” Naruto asks him, his voice cutting through the memory. “You’re being weird. You haven’t said a single word this whole time.”

Everything about the blonde is loud and jarring. Sasuke winces, a sharp pain behind his eyes, and all he can see is the blood on his mother’s lips—

“Hey!” Naruto yells, stopping to spin around. “Don’t ignore me! I hate it when you do that! I’m trying to show I’m worried, dattebayo!”

“I don’t need your worry,” Sasuke says lowly. “So just shut up, would you?”

Naruto’s hands clench in anger. He walks forward until he’s standing directly in front of Sasuke, stopping him from walking.

“What is the matter with you?! Why are you always treating me like this?!”

“Because you get on my nerves,” Sasuke snaps. “Just don’t talk to me.”

“Me? We’re trying to help you! You’re the one deciding to avoid everyone because you have a problem!”

“Naruto,” Kakashi says warningly, him and Sakura stopping as well. “That’s enough.”

Naruto ignores him. “What kind of team are we? A team is supposed to work together and be there for each other! We’re trying to help you, and you keep treating us like we don’t matter—”

“You don’t matter,” Sasuke says coldly. “None of this matters.”

Hurt flashes across Sakura and Naruto’s faces. Sasuke’s hand shakes around the strap of his bag. All he can see is Itachi, standing over his parents’ bodies. He sees the sword come down—

None of this matters. Everything that matters is gone.

“How can you say that?” Naruto demands. “This team is everything to me! You guys are my family! I know you feel the same way!”

Sasuke grits his teeth, tasting blood. Naruto is right, but he’s also so, so wrong. “That’s where you and I differ.”

Naruto blinks. “What do you mean?”

Sasuke thinks of red eyes. Of blood splattered everywhere, his father’s lifeless eyes staring into his. He takes a breath, trying to keep his voice calm.

“You… you keep saying you know… that you understand. I’m sick of people acting like they know how I feel. You don’t understand at all. Nobody does.”

Kakashi’s gaze flickers between the two of them. He seems torn between stepping in or letting the two of them work it out.

“That’s because you never tell us anything!” Naruto says. “How are we supposed to know if you won’t tell us? If you would just talk to us—”

Sasuke scoffs. “And what? Everything will be better then? Talking won’t bring my parents back!”

(It won’t make Itachi love me.)

Naruto shakes his head. “I know that,” he says. “I get it. But the pain of holding this all inside isn’t going to go away. You’re acting like I don’t understand how it feels to be alone. But I’m just like you. I know your parents are gone, but that doesn’t—”

This is Sasuke’s breaking point. Hearing the words I understand come out of Naruto’s mouth—when he just outright told him that he couldn’t—

“Shut up!” he yells. “Just shut up!”

Naruto steps back in shock. Sakura flinches and even Kakashi’s eye widens.

“This isn’t about being alone!” Sasuke says. “You can understand that, sure! But you’ve always been alone! You don’t know what it’s like to have your family torn away from you—you don’t know what it’s like to have to watch them be slaughtered! Over and over and over, for two whole weeks, until all you can see when you blink is their blood—”

His breathing has picked up, his heart pounding. He sees the blood, hears the screams, Itachi’s hand around his throat—

Blood, blood, blood, everywhere—

(“Nii-san!”)

Naruto is staring at him with horrified eyes. “W-What?”

His face is one of dawning realization. Sakura’s is the same, her hand over her mouth.

They didn’t know, Sasuke realizes. They didn’t know what Itachi’s Tsukuyomi showed me. What I was forced to see.

There are tears forming in the corner of Sakura’s eyes. She steps forward hesitantly. “Is that… is that really what you saw? You watched them die… for two weeks?”

The sadness in her eyes hurts too much to look at. It burns in his chest, and he looks away from it.

“Do you understand what that feels like?” he asks Naruto. “Do you understand what it feels like to watch them all die thousands of times? Do you understand how it feels when a person you trusted—a person you loved—is the one to do it?”

Naruto is silent, staring at him with wide blue eyes. Sasuke feels his anger rise up inside him.

“I said do you understand that?!"

Naruto swallows. He shakes his head. “No,” he admits quietly, his voice unsteady. “No, I don’t.”

Sasuke’s hands curl tighter around the straps of his pack. He sees Itachi smiling at him, his eyes warm and kind. I’m always going to be there for you—

“None of you understand,” he says, the memory burning in his chest. “None of you understand how it feels to be betrayed by someone you trusted.”

Itachi’s fingers jabbing his forehead, his eyes fond. Sorry, Sasuke. Next time, okay?

“Sasuke,” Kakashi says quietly. It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to him since they left Konoha. “I know I can never understand the betrayal you’re feeling. But I do understand grief. I understand it more than you know. You’re letting yourself be consumed by your anger. You can’t let it be all you live for.”

Sasuke bites his tongue. He can feel the Curse Mark on his shoulder flare briefly, in response to his strong emotions.

“I’m not saying to forget about Itachi,” Kakashi tells him. “I’m not saying to forget about what he’s done. But you need to let go—”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because I love him!” Sasuke yells, and it feels like the words have been ripped right from the center of him. “Don’t you get it?! Even after everything, I love him, and I hate that I love him—”

Sasuke chokes on the words, on the burning in the back of his throat. His eyes sting, and he spins around before they can see the tears in his eyes.

God, why is he crying? He is so sick of crying.

The confession burns on his tongue—the truth that he’s never allowed himself to admit. I love him. Still.

It feels like a betrayal. Like he’s spitting on his parents’ graves. He hates that it’s true, and he hates that he can’t cut it out of himself. He hates them for forcing it out of him.

Sasuke hates Itachi. He hates him more than he’s ever hated anyone. But deep down, he loves him just as much, and that’s the part that hurts the most.

He’s everything to me. And I’m nothing to him.

Sasuke shakes his head. “I don’t need this,” he says. “I don’t need any of this.”

He takes off into the trees, pushing off the ground and jumping ahead of them. He wipes angrily at his eyes as he leaves them behind him.

“Sasuke, wait!” Naruto yells, but Kakashi grips his shoulder before he can take off after him.

“He’s just getting a bit ahead of us. Let him go for now.”

Chapter Text

Sasuke is surprised when no one comes chasing after him. But he’s grateful, as he feels his anger begin to fade with the distance he puts between them.

Because I love him!

Sasuke bites his lip until it bleeds, as his own shouted words echo in his head. They feel like the pounding of a drum, like a hand wrapping around his heart and twisting.

I love him. I hate him.

He pushes off one of the tree branches with too much force. It breaks beneath his shoe, crashing down a hundred feet below.

It takes him a whole twenty minutes to calm himself down. To stop his hands from shaking around the straps of his bag, to stop the fire raging in his veins, to stop seeing bloody streets and broken bodies.

He pushes from tree to tree, leaving his teammates far behind him on the ground, and he forces himself to breathe.

He stops to rest on a sturdy branch, leaning his back against the trunk of the tree. He’s far ahead of the other three, and there’s no harm in stopping. If they aren’t chasing after him, then they won’t catch up for a while.

He leans his head back against the tree, the bark digging into his spine. A strand of damp hair falls into his eyes, and he flicks it away with his fingers. He stares up at the sunlight peeking through the trees.

It’s ridiculous, but he feels like the weather is mocking him. What right does it have to be so warm and bright when he feels so fucking miserable?

Sasuke closes his eyes. He wants to punch something. He wants to fight someone. He settles for tightening his injured hand into a fist, focusing on the sharp pain that cuts through his anger.

Naruto doesn’t understand, Sasuke thinks with clenched teeth. None of them do. How dare they stand there and act like they do?

But his anger is fading now, and he can’t hate them like he had only a few moments ago. Because he remembers Sakura’s arms around him. He remembers Kakashi opening his door to him, letting him into his apartment.

Naruto, however, still angers him. Acting like he can understand—and why had Itachi been after him—

(“You don’t interest me at the moment.”)

Sasuke hates how the words tear him apart. He hates how much they hurt, how much they matter.

Because I love him, he shouted, and he hates that it’s true.

Sasuke doesn’t know how it’s possible to both hate and love the same person so much, to the point where the snarled knot of emotion is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode in his chest. The grief and hope, disgust and longing, hate and love, are too much for one body to contain, and it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. Why can’t he just let go?

There’s a kunai at his waist. And it would be so easy to stop feeling anything at all.

Sasuke imagines it again—how easy it would be. He wonders if Itachi would even care.

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

Something brushes against Sasuke’s chakra. A presence. Sasuke straightens immediately, instantly alert. His spiraling thoughts fall away, his mind instantly sharpening. Something is watching him.

The Curse Mark responds to the presence. Even with the seal around it, he can feel it pulsing, just beneath his skin. His hand wraps around his kunai, his heart pounding.

How could he be careless enough to let his guard down so thoroughly?

The leaves rustle in the tree across from him—not the wind. Sasuke hurls his kunai, deadly and precise. It hits, and the rustling stops.

Sasuke jumps over to the other tree, landing lightly in a crouch. He brushes the leaves aside, and when he sees it, his fingernails dig into the mark on his shoulder.

It’s a small white snake, now writhing around the kunai pinning it.

They catch up to Sasuke at the border of the Land of Rivers. From there, they take to the trees. Sasuke doesn’t say a word, and simply rejoins them like nothing happened.

But Naruto knows better. He can see it in Sasuke’s face.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Sakura asks in a whisper.

Not is he okay, but will he be okay. Because whatever he is now, okay is definitely not it.

Naruto stares at the Uchiha crest on the back of Sasuke’s shirt. The sick feeling in his stomach from when Sasuke yelled at him still hasn’t gone away.

“I don’t know.”

You don’t understand at all, he said.

Sasuke was right. Naruto doesn’t.

He thought he did. He believed he could. He and Sasuke are the same—that’s something he’s always believed, even in the times when he tried to ignore it. And Naruto still believes that, still believes that they can share each other’s pain—but they can’t share all of it, and that’s what Naruto didn’t understand.

Naruto is defined by his loneliness. But for Sasuke, it is grief that has wrapped around his neck and refuses to let go.

(Grief—and betrayal.)

“Did you know?” Sakura asks quietly, as they both jump to the next branch. She keeps her voice low enough so that their two other teammates in front of them don’t hear. “Did you know about… about what Sasuke-kun saw in the Tsukuyomi?”

Naruto bites his lip. “No. I didn’t.”

He thinks about that hallway again—fingers wrapping around Sasuke’s throat. He thinks of the cold eyes that stared down at him. Sasuke’s screams.

A burst of hatred goes through him. He doesn’t think he’s ever hated anyone so much—not even the villagers that used to kick at his ankles.

“Itachi Uchiha…” Sakura says lowly, and Naruto looks over and sees his own feelings mirrored on her face. “I don’t understand how someone can be so cruel.”

Naruto doesn’t say anything. He bites the inside of his cheek and keeps moving through the air.

Two weeks, he thinks, trying to understand the reality of what his friend was forced to endure. Two weeks of watching his family be killed. Even if that’s only three times per hour…

Naruto shakes his head to dislodge the calculations his brain is already trying to make. He’s horrible at math, and he isn’t sure he wants to know the exact number anyway.

Sasuke had said he watched it thousands of times.

Neither of them talk for a long time. As the sky begins to grow dark, Kakashi is the first to break the silence, telling them that they’re going to bunk down for the night.

“I was hoping we’d reach the town by nightfall,” he says. “But we’ll have to rest here. We’ll need to increase our pace tomorrow.”

For once, Naruto doesn’t complain about sleeping on the ground instead of at an inn. He isn’t tired anyway. The four of them pull their sleeping bags out. Sakura attempts to talk to Sasuke, but he brushes her off. He pulls his sleeping bag a good distance away from the rest of them.

Naruto knows he should try to talk to him. But his pride keeps him in place.

For a while, as he hears Sakura’s breathing even out beside him, Naruto stares up at the trees, listening to the crickets. Sasuke’s words repeat in his head, making it impossible for him to fall asleep. The heaviness in his chest hasn’t gone away, and he’s starting to think that the only way to make it is to talk to Sasuke.

With a huff, Naruto sits up. He looks over at Sasuke, a good ten feet away. He’s laying with his back facing the rest of them, so Naruto can’t tell if he’s actually sleeping.

Kakashi isn’t sleeping. He’s sitting with his back against a tree, a copy of Icha Icha open in his hands.

Naruto moves quietly from his sleeping bag, walking over to him. “How can you read that in the dark?” he asks, plopping down next to him.

His sensei clearly heard his footsteps, because his gaze doesn’t move from the novel. “Naruto. You should rest up for tomorrow.”

“You’re not sleeping either.”

“I’m on watch.”

“Oh,” Naruto says. “But I thought this mission is only C-Rank. It’s not supposed to be dangerous, right? So why does someone need to keep watch?”

Kakashi’s eyebrow arches. “You do remember our last C-Rank, don’t you?”

Naruto winces, flashing back to the feeling of Sasuke’s body in his arms. “Okay. You make a good point.”

The both of them are quiet. Kakashi sits reading his book, the only noise the crickets and the faint sound of breathing. Naruto gnaws on his lip, and his eyes keep flickering toward his sensei.

After about five minutes of Naruto glancing at him then quickly looking away, the Copy Ninja finally gets fed up. He sighs, closing his book and turning his attention to his student.

“Naruto, if you have something to say to me, then just come out and say it.”

Naruto hesitates. “Why didn’t you tell me and Sakura-chan about what Sasuke went through?”

“In the Tsukuyomi?” Naruto nods, and Kakashi places his hands over the book in his lap. “What makes you so sure I knew about it?”

“When Sasuke said it earlier… you didn’t look surprised. Sakura-chan was, but you weren’t.”

Kakashi sighs. “Sometimes you’re more observant than I give you credit for. You’re right, I did know about it. But I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my place. If it was something Sasuke wanted to share with you, then he would have.”

Naruto nods. That makes sense.

He knows Sasuke never would have opened up to him about it, though. The only reason he told Naruto earlier is because Naruto managed to piss him off enough.

“I don’t know how to help him,” the jinchuuriki admits. “I thought I knew what he was going through… but really, I don’t understand anything.”

“That’s not true,” Kakashi tells him. “There are parts of what he’s going through that you can’t relate to. But that doesn’t mean you can’t understand each other in different ways. You can still help him through this.”

Naruto scowls. “How? He’s right that I don’t understand. He had to watch his family die over a thousand times! That’s horrible, Kakashi-sensei! It’s awful! I haven’t been through anything near that bad!”

Kakashi winces slightly. Naruto wonders if he’s done the calculations himself—if he knows exactly how many times Sasuke watched his clan’s death on repeat.

“Don’t say that,” he says. “You can’t measure trauma like that. You and Sasuke were both affected by your childhood experiences.”

“But his is way worse—"

Kakashi shakes his head again. “Just because someone else has gone through worse doesn’t make your pain any less. Your pain isn’t less than Sasuke’s, it’s just different. You’re not always going to be able to understand every part of it, and that’s okay.”

Naruto considers the words for a moment. He’s surprised to find that the heaviness in his chest has eased slightly. Some of his usual determination has crept back in.

He can do this. He can help his teammate, even if he can’t perfectly understand.

“Wow, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto says. “Who knew you could actually say such wise things.”

Kakashi scowls at him and cuffs him around the head, the seriousness of the moment broken. “I’m wise all the time. Watch it, or I’ll make you take the next shift of watch.”

Naruto stops immediately. He hates watch. It’s so boring, and he always falls asleep, and then in the morning Sakura-chan always gets angry.

Kakashi pulls his book up to eye-level again—seriously, how is he reading it in the dark?—glancing briefly at Naruto.

“You should talk to him,” he says, nodding in Sasuke’s direction. “The two of you need to clear the air.”

“He’s sleeping.”

“He’s faking. He’s still awake.” Naruto makes an alarmed expression. Correctly guessing his thoughts, Kakashi continues, “Don’t worry. He’s too far away to hear us.”

Naruto feels relief settle over him. Kakashi gives him a pointed look.

“Naruto, seriously. Talk to him. We still have quite a journey ahead of us tomorrow, and the silence between the two of you is unbearable.”

Naruto bites his lip. He stares through the darkness at Sasuke’s back. He can make out the faint outline of the Uchiha crest on his shirt.

“Okay. You’re right.”

“Sasuke. Psst, Sasuke! I know you’re awake… Sasuke!”

Sasuke snarls at the familiar voice less than a foot away. He buries himself deeper in his sleeping bag, pressing himself closer to the hard ground beneath him.

“Fuck off.”

Naruto pauses for a moment, most likely stunned by his harsh language. He quickly starts whispering again.

“But Kakashi-sensei said I should come talk to you—”

Sasuke squeezes his eyes shut tighter. “Then tell Kakashi to fuck off, too.”

“…Sasuke. Please.”

Sasuke pauses. Naruto’s tone is one he’s rarely heard from him before. Sasuke expected him to get angry, but instead, his voice has gentled. It’s become a plea.

Sasuke considers continuing to ignore him. He has a feeling that if he did, Naruto might actually let him this time instead of continuing to push. But the tiniest sliver of guilt goes through him, and before he fully registers making the decision, he’s pushing himself into a sitting position.

“What?” he says. He brushes his hair from his face, narrowing his eyes in the darkness. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you about earlier. I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Sasuke blinks in surprise. Naruto is sitting in front of him, only about a foot of space between them. The expression on his face is sincere.

“You are?”

“I really was trying to help,” he says. “But you’re right that I didn’t understand. So, yeah. I’m sorry.”

He looks extremely uncomfortable saying the words. But he forces himself to meet Sasuke’s eyes when he says them, as if they’re something he needs to say.

Sasuke finds himself momentarily speechless. He and Naruto don’t talk like this, not ever. One of them snipes at each other, and then the other one snipes back. That’s how their relationship works. The only time either of them have anything approaching a genuine conversation is when one of them is literally on death’s door.

(Sasuke remembers Haku’s needles, the way his body moved without thought. He remembers the words he spoke to his teammate, the ones that he thought would be his last. Don’t let your dream die.)

The thirteen-year-old swallows. Thinking of that time makes him feel vaguely guilty for earlier, which he hates, because he still agrees with everything he said to Naruto.

Naruto doesn’t understand. And he has no business acting like he does.

But… now he’s admitting it?

“Good,” Sasuke tells him with a huff, turning his face away. “At least you can finally see that. Is that all you woke me up for?”

Irritation flashes across Naruto’s face “You—why do you always have to do that? Why do you always have to be such a jerk? I’m trying to be your friend.”

Sasuke bites down on the automatic words of you’re not my friend. They aren’t true, and Naruto knows they aren’t true. Because Naruto is his friend, the closest thing to a friend he has—

(“You must kill your closest friend.”)

Sasuke flinches.

“I might not be able to understand what you’re going through,” Naruto says. “But I still want to try. And so does Sakura-chan. Because that’s what teammates do. We’re not just going to leave you alone when we know you’re in pain.”

Sasuke frowns. Absently, his hand moves up to cover the Curse Mark on his shoulder.

“When you yelled at me earlier,” Naruto continues, “you said that losing your parents wasn’t about being alone. But then what is it about? What makes it so painful?”

Sasuke experiences a flash of anger at the question. What makes it painful? Everything about it is painful!

He forces himself to calm down. Naruto sounds honestly confused, and Sasuke tries to look at it from his point of view. Naruto’s never had any parents to miss—he’s always been on his own. For him, it’s always been the loneliness that eats away at him.

Sasuke feels his ache for them in his heart, just as strong as five years ago. He sees his father’s smile, can smell his mother’s perfume—

Itachi’s two fingers against his forehead—

“When I think about everything that happened,” Sasuke says slowly, “…When it… when it gets too much and I can’t see anything else…”

Sasuke swallows slightly, breaking off. This is hard. He’s never talked about it before. He’s never wanted to before.

“When people try to talk to me about it… or try to understand it… they think that all I can focus on is how bad everything is. On being alone now. But it’s not like that. It’s more like, I can only think about how good everything used to be, and how it’s not like that anymore, and it won’t be like that ever again.”

Sasuke’s chest hurts. He thinks about evenings around the dinner table. Days when his parents smiled and Itachi laughed.

Naruto is staring at him with pained eyes. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “I don’t understand that. Things have always been bad for me.”

Sasuke doesn’t reply, just digs his nails deeper into the mark on his shoulder. He’s been hyper-aware of it ever since he spotted that white snake in the forest.

Naruto’s eyes flicker to the Curse Mark in concern, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“I’m sorry things can’t be the way they used to be,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t be good again. You said earlier that this team doesn’t matter to you… but it can, if you let it.”

Sasuke doesn’t say anything, simply stares down at his lap. The truth is, Team Seven already does matter to him. Kakashi… Naruto… Sakura… being with them reminds him of how it felt to have family.

…but what’s to stop him from losing them, just like he lost the first one?

Chapter Text

Kisame is looking at him again.

Not just looking at him, but looking at him, because there is an important distinction between the two. Looking is a quick glance, casual and unmeaningful. But looking—that sort of gaze holds intent.

It’s the way Kisame has been eyeing him since he returned. Itachi doesn’t know why he’s doing it, but it puts him on edge.

“Orochimaru has reemerged near the Land of Rivers,” Pain says. “As you all are aware, it has been nearly five years now since he deserted the organization.”

Itachi forces himself to ignore the weight of his partner’s gaze, staring impassively at the shadowy figure of their leader. Around him, the other members of the Akatsuki are also assembled.

“Orochimaru,” Deidara says with a huff. “That damn snake again?”

His personal dislike for Orochimaru is amusing—considering he’s one of the only Akatsuki members who wasn’t a part of the organization when Orochimaru betrayed them. When he failed to steal Itachi’s eyes and then ran with his tail between his legs.

Itachi finds himself paying closer attention, though it doesn’t show on his face. The Land of Rivers is near Konoha—near Sasuke.

“He’s still so close to Konoha?” Kisame wonders. “After his failed invasion, I thought he would be long gone by now. What’s causing him to stick around?”

Itachi thinks of that wretched mark on his brother’s shoulder. He doesn’t blink. “Are we going to go after him, then?”

“My spy has confirmed his current whereabouts,” Sasori says. “He has also relayed to me that the man is weakened from his battle with the Third Hokage. Now is an opportune time to eliminate him.”

“We might not get this chance again soon,” Pain tells them. “Orochimaru is not only a traitor to our organization, he is also in possession of our secrets. His knowledge of the Akatsuki is a threat that has plagued us for too long.”

“Great!” Deidara says, and even as only a shadowy projection, Itachi can tell that he’s grinning widely. “Send me after that damn bastard! I’ve been itching for a chance to kill him—”

“You already got the chance to kill him. You blew a bunch of shit up and he escaped, remember?”

Deidara hisses at Hidan. “Shut up! That’s why I want to be the one to kill him! No one escapes from my art—"

“He did.”

“Shut up!”

“Deidara, calm down,” Pain says mildly. Deidara huffs, his annoyance perfectly communicated in that one sound. “You’re not going after Orochimaru. Hidan is right, you had your chance.”

“Ha! Get wrecked!”

“Fuck off, asshole! What does that even mean?”

“Kakuzu and I will go after Orochimaru. He’ll be a beautiful sacrifice for Jashin-sama—”

“Oh, not this again—"

Itachi feels a headache coming on.

“Enough,” Pain says, and the bickering stops. He turns his head, purple eyes locking with Itachi’s. “Kisame and Itachi will go after Orochimaru. They’re already known members of the Akatsuki. If they’re spotted, Konoha still won’t gain any new intel.”

Itachi doesn’t let his surprise show. He wants to be the one to go after Orochimaru. The snake is after his little brother, after all. But to request it when he’s already being watched so closely would have given away too much about his priorities. He’s surprised Pain would choose to send him.

“Sure thing,” Kisame says with a shark-like grin. “I’ve been itching for a good fight. What do you say, Itachi-san?”

“What?!” Deidara yells. “No way, un! Why him—”

Deidara continues to kick up a fuss. The projections around them begin to fade, and Itachi fades with them, after Pain relays to him Orochimaru’s suspected location.

Kisame is still watching him. Itachi doesn’t turn his back to him.

Surprisingly, Team Seven completes their mission easily, without any bumps in the road. They reach the Land of Rivers by late morning of the next day, and by the afternoon, they’ve delivered the scroll to the daimyo and are on their way back home.

“We did it,” Naruto says. “A C-Rank mission, and we didn’t even get attacked or anything.”

A few paces ahead of them, Kakashi hears the familiar sound of Sakura hitting her teammate. “Idiot! We still have over a day’s travel back to Konoha! Don’t jinx it! There’s still time for us to get attacked.”

“I almost hope we will be,” Naruto says with a sigh. “This mission’s been so boring. What do you think, Sasuke?”

“I agree with Sakura. You’re an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Kakashi feels his lips twitch beneath his mask as he listens to them bicker. A wave of nostalgia washes over him, and he forces the warmth in his chest down.

“Sakura is right,” he tells them. “We aren’t home yet. It isn’t likely we’ll be attacked, but it’s still a possibility. Don’t drop your guard.”

Sakura and Naruto are walking together just a few paces behind him. Sasuke is walking a bit quicker than his two teammates, and is at Kakashi’s side. Unlike the other two, he’s definitely still on his guard.

Kakashi glances at him as they walk. He’s been avoiding speaking to his student during this mission, because of the secret that he’s holding regarding the massacre.

“You and Naruto seem to have worked things out.”

His voice is quiet, not carrying far enough behind them for the other two to hear. Sasuke shrugs his shoulders and responds at the same volume.

“I guess.”

“I’m glad the two of you were able to come to an understanding. He really was trying to help you, you know. All of us are.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightens. The sun glints off the metal plate of his hitai-ate. “I know. Everyone wants to help.”

The voice isn’t sharp, the way Kakashi expected from his expression. Instead it sounds tired—the voice of someone who’s been fighting against a current for far too long.

Kakashi doesn’t know what to make of Sasuke at this point. He considers himself good at reading people, but he can’t say with certainty where his student’s mind is at. Sometimes, when Sasuke speaks, he seems fine. He seems better, like he’s actually making strives to heal.

But other times, it’s like he’s not even there.

Kakashi thinks of Sasuke’s outburst yesterday—the troubling words he had spoken. He wonders if it’s a good idea to bring that up, to talk about it. Or if it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Kakashi has never been good about talking about the emotional things. Given the choice between confronting an issue, or ignoring it and hoping it works itself out, he’s always chosen the latter. But he’s been trying to do better lately, and that means actually talking to his students about things.

He remembers Sasuke’s words, torn out of him like a horrible confession. Because I love him!

“It’s okay, you know,” Kakashi says quietly.

Sasuke frowns, turning to look at him. “What’s okay?”

“It’s okay for you to love him.”

Sasuke goes tense immediately. He stumbles briefly before rebalancing himself. “Don’t. That isn’t—don’t.”

There’s anger in his voice, but also shame. Disgust at his own feelings for someone he believes to be a heartless monster.

“He’s your brother, Sasuke. Of course you love him.”

“He killed everyone.”

“He did,” Kakashi says. “But that doesn’t make the first seven years of your life any less real.”

“But it wasn’t real,” Sasuke says harshly. “He never cared. All of it—it was just pretend.”

His lips twist as he says the words. A shadow passes through his eyes, as he remembers something Kakashi can’t see.

“He was never who I thought he was. I never knew him at all.”

Kakashi looks at the betrayal in his student’s eyes, and he wants so badly to correct him. He remembers Itachi’s hands curled into the collar of his vest as he snarled, My brother is all I think of!

For all Itachi Uchiha’s actions, he has always loved his brother. The truth in no way justifies what he put Sasuke through, but it does confirm that one fact.

He has always loved you.

Kakashi wishes he could tell him that now. But he can’t. He can’t tell Sasuke the reasons behind his brother’s actions, the same way he can’t tell Naruto who his parents are. He holds that secret behind his teeth every time he looks at the blonde boy, and now he has to hold this one, too.

Sasuke’s hand closes around his shoulder as they talk—around his Curse Mark. Kakashi tenses, and he realizes this is the second time he’s seen his student do that. With everything going on, he hasn’t given it much thought in a while.

“Is the Curse Mark bothering you?” he asks, a furrow between his eyebrows.

Sasuke quickly drops his hand. “It’s fine.”

“I’ve noticed that it tends to respond to strong emotions. Be careful. Remember, the seal I placed on it is dependent on your will—”

“I know.”

The two of them are silent for a while, Naruto and Sakura chatting quietly behind them. After a moment, Sasuke speaks up again.

“In the Forest of Death, when Orochimaru showed up… he mentioned Itachi. It sounded like they knew each other. Do you know how?”

Kakashi frowns. No, he doesn’t know. It’s surprising, considering the information about Itachi he now knows.

“I don’t know,” he says. “The only connection between them I can think of would be ANBU. They were both members. But that doesn’t make since either, because your brother became a member at eleven. Orochimaru had already left the village by then.”

“I think he might have wanted Itachi’s body. Before mine.”

Kakashi considers the words. “That… is a definite possibility. Orochimaru has always been fascinated by the Sharingan.”

Sasuke winces, his hand once again going to his shoulder. He doesn’t speak again. They walk under a large tree, the sun disappearing, Kakashi gets a sudden sense of déjà vu.

For a moment, Sasuke isn’t wearing his normal clothes, instead he’s wearing an ANBU uniform. For a moment, Itachi is the one standing next to him.

The sun comes out from behind the tree. The mirage dissipates. Kakashi is left feeling shaky and uneasy.  

Sasuke deserves to know the truth about his family. Naruto deserves to know the truth about his, too.

But unfortunately, that isn’t his call to make.

Chapter Text

A familiar scene. A familiar memory.

He stands outside the door. His bare feet are cold against the wooden floorboards. Fear freezes him in place.

His shaking hands raise to the door handles, his entire body trembling. The room in front of him is radiating killing intent, and every single part of him is screaming at him to flee—

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He remembers how this scene plays out. It’s written down, he’s memorized it, it’s all he knows. He pulls the door open and rushes inside, a desperate cry on his lips.

“Nii-san!”

His entire life, defined by a single cluster of seconds he can never forget.

But something’s wrong. Something’s different. The memory catches, goes off script. Itachi doesn’t step out of the shadows when he enters the room, bloody uniform and empty eyes. Instead, he doesn’t move, nothing more than a shadowy figure above the corpses at his feet.

Sasuke runs to his parents and falls to his knees. Their blood soaks into his skin. Tears build in his eyes and fall down his cheeks.

“No,” he says desperately. “No—Tou-san—Kaa-san—”

His father lays face down, over his mother’s chest. The Uchiha crest on his back is sliced through, soaked in blood. Sasuke grips his shoulder with bloody hands, turning him over.

The air is punched from his lungs. He gasps.

Naruto’s face stares back at him. His orange tracksuit is dyed crimson, and his blue eyes are empty and dead.

Sakura is beneath him. Her neck is sliced open, gaping grotesquely. Blood is spilling from the wound, mixing with her bright pink hair. Her eyes are closed.

A fist has wrapped around his heart, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. He can’t breathe. He can’t think.

“No,” he gasps. “No, no, no—”

He chokes on the sob that claws its way out of his throat, his head snapping up.

“Why?” he asks desperately.

Itachi looks down at him impassively.

“Because they were yours,” he says. “Foolish little brother. What other reason do I need?”

Sasuke wakes up with the smell of blood still in his nose. He gasps, sitting up. His body is shaking, and his breathing is unsteady. His heart races.

Slowly, the world filters back in. The ground is hard beneath him. Forest smells replace the coppery scent of blood. Around him, crickets chirp and cicadas sing. The night sky is black through the trees.

Sasuke closes his eyes and tries to calm his racing pulse. He sees his teammates laid out on the floor of his house, like his parents. He sees Itachi standing above them. He sees bright blue eyes that are now lifeless and dull, sees bubblegum hair soaked red—

He hears Itachi’s voice. Foolish little brother—

His heart stutters. A quiet sob threatens to escape his lips, and he quickly swallows it down. His eyes desperately search out his teammates.

They’re laying not too far from him, sleeping in their own sleeping bags. Silently, Sasuke unzips himself from his, standing up and walking over slowly. His hands shake.

He knows it’s stupid—like a child sneaking into their parents’ bed at night—but he needs to see that they’re breathing.

Kakashi is sleeping against the tree, his book open on the ground next to him at an angle that crumples the pages. He must have fallen asleep during watch. Sasuke rolls his eyes as he walks past him, careful not to make any noise.

Naruto and Sakura are sleeping next to each other. Sasuke’s heart stutters in a panic when he sees them. Their bodies flash in front of his eyes—blood collecting beneath them, on his hands—

Sasuke’s hands shake. He curls them into fists.

Sakura and Naruto are breathing—of course they are. The amount of relief he feels is ridiculous.

It was only a nightmare. You’re being stupid.

It wasn’t real. But he can still feel their blood on his skin. Still hear Itachi’s voice.

The two of them are curled on their sides, facing each other. Their hands are next to each other in the space between them, their fingers barely touching. Something about how close they are makes Sasuke’s chest ache.

He turns his head away from them. He can’t stand these feelings inside them. They hurt. They burn.

(Of course it burns. Love always does.)

(“Because they were yours.”)

Sasuke walks back away from them. His chest is tight, and he needs to get away from them. He needs somewhere to breathe. Being this close to them, and yet still not close enough, is unbearably painful, and it feels the same as Itachi’s fingers wrapped around his throat—

(“What other reason do I need?”)

Sasuke makes sure not to wake his sensei as he passes him, knowing he’ll stop him if he sees him going off alone. Sasuke walks away from the place where they made camp, not too far away, but he puts just enough space between them to feel comfortable with letting himself slide down to the ground.

His back against a tree, he bites his lip to force back tears. He feels secure in the knowledge that no one is watching him, but he still won’t let himself cry. He’s done too much of it lately.

Images from his nightmare flash before his eyes. Naruto and Sakura, replacing the place of his parents in his memory. Stolen from him, just as they were. The message is painfully clear.

Anything he cares for will eventually be ripped away. There is no reclaiming happiness once it has been lost.

Sasuke thinks of his mother and father, of the four of them smiling around the dinner table. He thinks of the way the house was, full of light and sometimes even laughter. He thinks of the tomb that it became—memories of blood and death and betrayal washing away everything bright.

Sasuke misses home. He misses it even more when he’s there.

He stares up at the moon, barely visible through the trees. The moon was full on that night, as well—Sasuke remembers looking up, glimpsing the brief silhouette perched against the night sky.

Sasuke feels vaguely disconnected from himself. It feels like his two feet are in two separate places—one here, and one five years in the past. Something has wrapped around his chest, a heavy, pressing sadness, and it drags him down, down, down.

Sasuke doesn’t know how long he sits there. The world fades out. It’s replaced by vivid memories of blood. He’s running down a street littered with weapons and corpses, and the air smells like death. He trips over a body, scraping up the palms of his hands—

Why?

His ears buzz, and the smell of the forest assaults his senses. It mixes with the smells in his memory, red smeared across wooden floorboards, the twisting of his brother’s eyes. His parents’ bodies, crumpled on the ground.

His father’s dead eyes. His mother’s hair spread out around her like a shadowy halo.

Why did I have to be the one to live?

The forest grows eerily quiet. There are no crickets, no cicadas, no frogs—their lullabies disappear altogether. Even the wind is silent.

Sasuke can hear his own heart in his chest, feel every beat of it against his ribs. He hears the uneven sound of his own breathing. It makes him sick.

He closes his eyes and tries to think of home, but all of his memories are tainted in blood. Itachi’s kind eyes are fractured, becoming sharp and cruel. His gentle smile is twisted.

Sasuke hates him with an intensity that sets him on fire. He hates him for stealing everything. He hates him for leaving. He hates him so much, with everything in him, that he feels like he could die.

Isn’t that what you really want?

The voice sounds achingly like his mother, whispering to him like she did when she tucked him into bed. He longs for her so badly that his very soul seems to reach out.

In the end, he is alone. Naruto and Sakura and Kakashi… he is able to pretend with them for a while. But they will never fill the shadows left by those Itachi ripped from him.

Isn’t this what you really want?

Five years of his life, and all of it for nothing. He is nothing more than a tool, shaped and molded and manipulated by his brother’s hands. Hate me, despise me, kill me…

His revenge will not be revenge anymore. It will be empty. Worthless. Avenging his clan holds no meaning if he’s following the blueprints their murderer laid out for him. It would not be vengeance, it would be mercy, and Itachi deserves none—

Sasuke can’t take it anymore. He can’t bear it.

Then don’t, his mother whispers. She presses their foreheads together. Blood spills from her lips. Just stay here with me. With us. Isn’t that what you really want?

The strange, liquid-like feeling returns. It washes over him slowly. It’s as though he’s slipping away into a heavy, unfamiliar sleep, one he might never wake up from.

And isn’t that fine? At least then…

His hand slips down to the pouch at his waist. He pulls the kunai from it, and the metal is cold against his palm. He runs his thumb against the sharp edge, drawing a drop of blood.

Itachi’s voice rings in his ears. You’re nothing to me. You’re not even worth killing.

His hand is shaking as he brings the blade up to his throat. He holds it there against his skin, and the silence around him is deafening.

It isn’t the first time he’s done this, though it’s been years now. He waits for the familiar flood of anger to stop him, to remind him.

Who will kill Itachi if you kill yourself? Who will avenge them if you’re dead?

He waits for it, and it doesn’t come. Not this time.

What comes instead is the memory of Itachi’s dark eyes in that interrogation room. The realization that he wants to die—that he wants Sasuke to give him that mercy.

His hand shakes around the kunai. He feels a drop of blood slide down his throat.

No, Sasuke thinks, his grip tightening on the weapon. I won’t be used by you.

It was never about simply killing Itachi. It was about being stronger. It was about beating him.

Itachi wants to die. He wants Sasuke to kill him. But Sasuke refuses to follow his manipulations any longer, refuses to be his puppet. If Itachi truly wants Sasuke to kill him, then the only true way to get his revenge is to—

The blade is cold against his skin. There’s a slight trickle of fear in his chest, but it’s overridden by a steely resolve.

He wants Itachi to know. He wants Itachi to understand. He wants his brother to stare down at his body, at the bloody kunai in his hand, and he wants him to realize that this—this is how he made him feel.

He won’t give Itachi what he wants. He refuses to.

(And maybe, just maybe, there’s a small part of him that wants to believe his brother was lying when he said the words you’re nothing to me. A small part of him that hopes, against all reason, that his brother cares. That this will make him hurt.)

The edge of the kunai is sharp against his neck. Sasuke takes a shaky breath.

I win, Itachi. I beat you.

In a quick motion, he moves to drag the blade across his throat—

A rock hits his hand, sending the kunai flying. He cries out in pain, pulling his hand to him and cradling it. He feels a sudden burst of killing intent, and the mark on his shoulder burns. With wide eyes, he snaps his head up.

Orochimaru is standing above him in one of the trees. He smiles down at Sasuke, his teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty, Sasuke-kun.”

Chapter Text

The kunai being knocked out of his hand feels like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. Sasuke presses his fingers against the cut on his throat, feeling horrified. What did I almost just do?

It feels like his mind has emerged from a deep fog. Like he’s woken up from a fever dream. But there’s no time to properly realize his own actions, because Orochimaru is standing on a tree branch above him.

Half a second later, and I would be—

His hands shake. He shoves his attempt at suicide from his mind, forcing himself to focus on the current situation.

“Relax,” Orochimaru says, when he sees the way Sasuke falls into a defensive stance. “I just came to talk. There’s no need for violence.”

Sasuke’s neck stings from the shallow line his kunai made. His left hand hurts from the rock. The Curse Mark on his shoulder burns, and he glares up at the snake with narrow eyes.

“Talk?” he says skeptically. “You mean like when you sent your lackeys to kidnap me while I was in a coma?”

There isn’t any killing intent exuding from the man now, but Sasuke refuses to lower his guard even a fraction of an inch. He can still sense the extreme power radiating from him. Whether this is because they are connected through the Curse Mark, or because he is just that powerful, Sasuke doesn’t know.

Orochimaru won’t kill him. But his teammates aren’t too far away, and Sasuke knows he won’t hesitate to kill them.

Orochimaru smiles. It’s not a pleasant expression. “That was a bit underhanded of me, wasn’t it? Still, no harm was done.”

“My teammate was nearly killed.”

“And one of my people was killed. But you don’t see me holding a grudge.”

Sasuke clenches his jaw. The Curse Mark on his shoulder burns. He can see it flaring, black marks turning the color of flames, but the seal surrounding it contains it.

It’s barely visible, poking out from the collar of his shirt. Orochimaru’s gaze flickers to it, and his mouth twitches down slightly.

In a fluid motion, he leaps from the tree. Sasuke jerks back as the man lands in front of him, but his back hits the tree trunk behind him. He no longer has his kunai, but his hands are ready, prepared to use a jutsu.

Orochimaru is an entire foot taller than him. He towers over him, casting him in his shadow.

“That mark on your shoulder is hurting you, isn’t it? It’s because of that wretched seal that’s been placed around it. Power like that isn’t meant to be contained.”

Sasuke resists the urge to reach up and touch the mark. Anger swirls inside him, trying to push him into action. He holds off his desire to attack—it would be stupid to charge at a man like this without plan or thought.

He remembers last time he ran into a fight blindly. He can still feel the fingers around his throat, the voice against his ear. You’re still too weak—

“I never asked for this power,” Sasuke tells him. “There’s nothing great about it. All it does is hinder me.”

Orochimaru reaches out, pale fingers brushing Sasuke’s neck. The mark flares again, and Sasuke tries to flinch away. The trunk of the tree is still at his back.

“That’s because it’s only in its first state,” the Sannin says. “There is a second state, you know.”

Against his will, Sasuke feels his interest pique. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Sasuke-kun, that’s privileged information. But if you were looking to advance your power, know that I have the means to do so.”

Sasuke feels himself shiver. He hates the position Orochimaru has him in. The man hasn’t made a move against him, but the way he has him boxed against the trunk of the tree behind him leaves Sasuke feeling trapped. This is clearly intentional.

Sasuke feels no real draw toward the power Orochimaru is offering—not anymore. The purpose of gaining power was all to kill Itachi, and that doesn’t matter anymore.

(Nothing matters anymore.)

Sasuke swallows past the heavy wave of hopelessness that washes over him. He levels Orochimaru with a glare.

“I don’t care about anything you’re offering. I don’t need anything from you.”

“Is that so? Is that why I caught you out here, so miserable and hopeless that you were about to put an end to your own existence?”

Sasuke’s breath stutters—not just at the reminder of what he almost did, but that Orochimaru had witnessed it. “That—that wasn’t—"

Orochimaru raises a hand to stop him. “It doesn’t matter. The specifics of your angsty teenage dilemmas don’t interest me. What does interest me is how we can be of use to each other.”

Sasuke narrows his eyes. There is nothing Orochimaru could offer him. He knows exactly what the man wants from him—to possess his body in order to gain the power of the Sharingan. He has no reason to hand himself over to him.

“I told you that there’s nothing I want from you,” he says. “I won’t go with you. What could you possibly offer me?”

“The truth,” Orochimaru says, his eyes glinting. “About your big brother.”

Sasuke freezes.

“What?” he says.

He mind stops. Almost against his will, he feels all of his focus realign at the words, his attention drawn in like a magnet. The… truth?

“What are you talking about?” he demands. “What truth?”

Orochimaru reaches out with a smirk. He twists a strand of Sasuke’s hair around his finger. “Poor little child. Surrounded by so many lies and deceptions. You’ve never been given an honest word in your entire life, have you?”

Sasuke slaps the hand away, his heart pounding. “Speak plainly,” he demands. “Just what do you mean?”

“Your older brother has been lying to you,” Orochimaru says. “As has everyone else around you. He did not kill your clan to test his strength. He did it because he was ordered to. By Konoha.”

Sasuke’s brain screeches to a halt. He stares at Orochimaru, uncomprehending, and the words don’t make sense. It’s as if he’s speaking in a different language, and Sasuke’s mind is grasping around foreign symbols and sounds that refuse to make any sense.

Shock is a cold rush of ice in his veins, a complete standstill in his brain and chest and lungs. He was… ordered?

There is a big empty space in his head where the thoughts ought to be. His tongue fumbles in his mouth, struggling to remember how to form words.

“You’re… lying. You’re lying.”

Orochimaru’s expression is almost pitying as he looks down at him. “I’m afraid not. Your clan was planning coup d’état to take over. But the village knew. They used your precious older brother as a weapon. That way, they could tell themselves the blood wasn’t on their hands.”

Sasuke’s hands are shaking at his sides. It feels like he’s been kicked in the center of his chest. The words repeat in fragments in his head. Coup d’état… the village… precious older brother…  

It isn’t true. It can’t be. But even as he denies it with everything in him, dozens of tiny different memories—things that never made sense—come together and coalesce in his mind. All the late night meetings… Itachi’s words the day after Shisui died… the kunai hitting the center of the clan crest…

(The tears slipping down his cheeks as he turned—)

“He eliminated the entire Uchiha Clan,” Orochimaru says. “That was his mission. As was leaving Konoha behind—”

“No!” Sasuke yells. Denial runs through him. Orochimaru is still standing in front of him, still keeping his back trapped against the tree, and he feels utterly suffocated by the other man. “That isn’t true! That can’t—then why am I alive? Why did he leave me alive?”

“Because he loves you, of course.”

He says the words so easily, so simply. As if they don’t hit him like an electric current wrapping around his entire body. He can’t breathe.

Time stretches and distorts. Everything seems both fuzzy and sharp at the same time. The world rushes into focus and also fades away.

No, Sasuke thinks, as he feels the pieces of his entire life come falling apart. No.

The words distort in his head. Because he loves you mixes with you mean nothing to me, the two voices merging and twisting around each other, tangling up his insides until he feels like he could scream—

“You’re lying,” Sasuke says. “All of it—you’re lying—”

“It’s the truth, Sasuke-kun—”

“Shut up!”

Rage erupts in his chest like fire. Lightning explodes in his hand, a thousand birds chirping. He pushes off the tree, driving his fist into Orochimaru’s chest, feeling his chest cavity cave in—

Orochimaru’s body is replaced by a broken log. The Chidori fades from Sasuke’s palms, but he doesn’t pause, spinning around and aiming for the man again, now up in the trees.

He’s lying, Sasuke thinks, feeling the pieces of himself straining to be held together by a single frayed thread. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying—

Fire bursts from his lips, and he remembers his father by the end of the dock—that’s my boy—and Itachi killed him, drove his sword through his back, there’s no way he could do that and love him, no way—

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

Orochimaru dodges the flames easily, and Sasuke’s hands are shaking as he makes the signs to do it again. He remembers Itachi’s hands overlapping his as he corrected his hold on a shuriken, remembers a shuriken slicing through his shoulder that night—

He remembers red eyes and bloody streets, his ribs snapping and a hand around his throat—Tsukuyomi—

There’s no way Itachi loves him—he said so himself—there’s no way, no way, no way, no way—

Sitting on a porch, the sun beating down on them. A kind smile curving his brother’s lips—I’ll always be there for you. Even if you do hate me—

There’s a wild panic in Sasuke’s chest. It wraps around his lungs, crawls out of his mouth. His hands form the signs for Katon, but only wisps of smoke escape his lips. He tries to remember what his father taught him, to build up his chakra in his stomach, but nothing will focus and everything is wrong—

Itachi doesn’t—he never—

It doesn’t matter that there was no body to burn, that there is no tombstone with his name on it. The brother he knew died that day. A monster took his place.

Orochimaru slides out of the tree behind him, seeming to peel off it, like shedding a skin. Sasuke jerks in surprise when he feels the man’s body at his back, his fingers wrapping around his throat—

(Itachi’s fingers wrapping around his neck, pulling him up—)

Sasuke drives his foot back in a surge of desperate panic, but it doesn’t make contact. Orochimaru spins them around, pinning Sasuke face-first against the tree. He forces both of his arms behind his back, pinning him with his own body, and Sasuke fights with all of his strength. He feels something snap, and then there’s a sharp pain—

“Stop struggling,” Orochimaru hisses against his ear, and it’s just like Itachi that day in the inn— “What part of ‘no need for violence’ did you fail to understand?”

Sasuke kicks back at him desperately. Orochimaru’s mouth is right by his ear, and he can feel his hair brush against his chin, and his presence is pressing down on him, and he can’t breathe—

Orochimaru grips his shoulder, his fingers brushing the Curse Mark.

“I was really hoping we could do this the easy way.”

Sasuke can’t fight. His hands are pressed between him and Orochimaru, held in a bruising grip. And he can’t think, not with Orochimaru standing so close, pinning him, and it reminds him so much of Itachi in that hallway—

(“He did it because he was ordered to. By Konoha.”)

Impossible. Impossible, impossible—

Itachi in the interrogation room, the look in his eyes as he spoke. We all live inside the fantasies we create.

Every part of him rebels against it. It’s a lie. A clever manipulation on Orochimaru’s part. It can’t be the truth—

(“Your older brother has been lying to you. As has everyone else around you.”)

Did everyone know? Did Kakashi?

His head is too loud. He can’t fucking think—

“I would have preferred you to come with me willingly,” Orochimaru says. “I thought telling you the truth might persuade you to leave that place you call a home behind—but clearly it’s going to take some time for my words to sink in, and I don’t have that kind of time.”

Orochimaru’s hand moves up from the Curse Mark, his fingers circling Sasuke’s chin. He brushes the shallow cut at his throat left by the kunai, and Sasuke’s breath hitches.

He wonders, for a moment, about how he’s so terrified for his own life, when only minutes before he had been about to end it.

“Force will have to do for now,” the Sannin says. His fingers are cold against Sasuke’s throat. “There will be plenty of time later to persuade you—”

Orochimaru freezes, his body tensing against Sasuke’s. Against his ear, Sasuke can feel his lips curl into a smile.

“Well, well. It looks like we have some company.”

He spins Sasuke around, kicking out his knees. Caught off guard, Sasuke is unable to rebalance. He hits the ground, his hands catching him.

That’s when Naruto and Sakura burst through the trees.

“Sasuke!” Naruto yells.

The two of them catch sight of him first. Then they spot Orochimaru, and their faces go slack with surprise, then fear.

“It looks like your teammates have come to your rescue,” Orochimaru says gleefully. “Perhaps if I kill one of them, you’ll be more willing to cooperate.”

Sasuke feels fear burst to life in his chest, spreading ice through his entire body. He stares up at their pale faces. What are they doing here? Where the hell is Kakashi?

Orochimaru steps toward them, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Tell me, Sasuke-kun, which one should it be? The little girl or the jinchuuriki?”

They’ve been in the Land of Rivers for less than twenty minutes when the crow Itachi sent out returns to him. It rockets through the sky, its wings flapping urgently, and Itachi frowns when he sees it.

“What’s up with your Summon?” Kisame asks from next to him. “I’ve never seen it behave like that before.”

Itachi raises his arm to catch the bird on his arm. It caws as it lands, a sharp, desperate note. Itachi’s Sharingan activates as he skims the surface of the animal’s mind, gaining all the information he needs.

Kin, the crow tells him. Snake.

Itachi’s blood goes cold. He shakes the bird from his arm, and it leaves in a burst of black feathers.

He understands the crow’s communication perfectly, and now the same urgency in the bird’s movements is now in his. Orochimaru has his brother cornered. He’s alone—

Where is his team? Itachi wonders with a surge of frustration. He banishes the thought quickly. They clearly aren’t there, and speculating on why only wastes his time. He’s still miles away from their location, he needs to be there now—

Itachi calms himself with the reminder that the man isn’t going to kill him. And he doesn’t think he’ll try to possess Sasuke’s body now—he’s still weakened from his battle with the Third, it’s unlikely he has that kind of strength.

“What is it?” Kisame asks, reading his expression. “What happened? Did you catch that traitor’s trail?”

There’s something strange in his partner’s voice when he says the words that traitor. The comment is almost pointed. Unfortunately, Itachi doesn’t have the time to contemplate it.

Sasuke…

“I found him,” Itachi says, and is grateful when his voice comes out sounding level. “My crow picked up on his location. You stay here. I can handle this myself.”

He knows Kisame will never agree. He turns his back on his partner, waiting for the argument, as he prepares to leave him behind. There’s no protest, and Itachi feels a faint flicker of surprise, but every part of him is now focused on Sasuke.

He focuses on the location he saw in the crow’s mind, preparing to push off the ground. He activates his Sharingan, black eyes swirling into red—

Hold on, Sasuke—

Samehada slices through the air behind him. Itachi freezes as he feels his chakra be sliced right down the middle, then be sucked away. His Sharingan flickers and dies.

“I don’t think so,” Kisame says.

Itachi feels the end of the wrapped sword press into his lower back. Slowly, he turns his head, meeting his partner’s narrow white eyes.

In his panic to reach his brother, Itachi did the stupidest thing he could have possibly done. He turned his back on an unknown element.

“You’re not going anywhere, Itachi.”

Chapter Text

“Kisame,” Itachi says. The night air is still around them. “What is the meaning of this?”

Samehada presses further into Itachi’s back, and he resists the urge to wince. The smile Kisame gives him is full of teeth.

“Well, you see, Itachi-san. Leader-sama told me some interesting information about you while you were off vacationing in Konoha.”

Itachi doesn’t allow himself to visibly tense, but realization immediately hits him. He thinks back to all the strange glances Kisame has been giving him, all the pointed comments—of course.

Itachi keeps his face blank, replying in a level voice. “It was hardly a vacation. What did Pain-sama tell you? It must be something for you to be pointing your sword at me like this.”

Kisame shakes his head with a slight chuckle. “Not Pain, Itachi-san. You know who I’m speaking of.”

Itachi’s mouth tightens. “Yes. I do.”

“Don’t act so surprised by this. I gave you fair warning when we first met, did I not? I told you, be wary of me.”

Itachi remembers that moment, on the edge of the dock. He remembers Samehada at his shoulder and Kisame at his back, the sharks circling in the water below. He remembers the way he allowed the Mangekyou to swirl into his eyes—

“I remember,” he says now. “But I believe I said the same goes to you.”

Itachi’s body explodes in a burst of crows. Kisame doesn’t look very surprised, most likely anticipating this. It’s one of Itachi’s most frequently used tricks, after all.

He isn’t fooled into thinking it’s a genjutsu. He’s been careful not to look into Itachi’s eyes this whole time. No, this is real, which means it was a clone.

So where is the real one?

The clone reforms above him, the crows coalescing to form Itachi, hovering in mid-air.

“Attacking me is foolish,” Itachi says. “What do you have to gain from it? You know you’ll lose.”

“It’s nothing personal, Itachi-san,” Kisame says. “I’m just following orders. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you?”

Samehada slices through the clone, sucking away the chakra and causing it to disperse once again. Itachi’s jaw tightens at the taunt, as his real body drops down from the trees.

I’m just following orders. I’m sure you understand that.

It’s all the confirmation Itachi needs that Kisame knows the truth about him. That Madara specifically planned this, in order to take Itachi out.

It’s a good strategy. Itachi is exactly the kind of person Kisame despises—a liar through and through. And as his partner, he knows Itachi’s moves more intimately than anyone else. He’s one of the very few that stand a chance in killing him.

Itachi wasn’t sure, until this moment, that Madara knew the truth about him. He suspected it, and was beginning to formulate plans in the case of the man approaching Sasuke after his death, but he was still not completely sure.

He is now. Madara knew all along. But until now, he considered me more of an asset than a risk.

“Don’t lie to yourself,” Itachi tells him. “I thought you hated people who did that.”

Kisame’s head snaps up toward the real Itachi. With a yell, he swings his giant sword at Itachi once more. Itachi blocks with a kunai, but the force is still enough to send him flying back.

Itachi backflips in the air, landing high on a tree branch. “It’s nothing personal?” he repeats. “This is absolutely personal, and you know it.”

He jumps from the branch, back toward his partner. He blocks Samehada with the kunai again, barely managing to keep hold of it, and he twists the left side of his body into a kick.

Kisame blocks with the side of Samehada. Itachi twists himself back, halting Samehada once again with the kunai in his right hand, but he holds the weapon there this time. It cuts into the wrappings covering Kisame’s sword.

Itachi’s Sharingan is activated, but Kisame knows far better than to make the rookie mistake of looking into his eyes. He bares his teeth, pressing his sword against the kunai. Itachi fights to hold it steady—physically, Kisame is stronger than him.

He doesn’t think about Sasuke. That will distract him too much.

“This has nothing to do with the Akatsuki,” Itachi says. “You’re attacking me because you want to kill me. Because I’m the exact sort of person you hate most of all, isn’t that right?”

Kisame’s white eyes narrow, his mouth twisting. Itachi pushes him back a step as he continues to speak.

“I was never loyal to the Akatsuki. I’ve been selling information on them to Konoha for all these years—the same way your former superior sold information to foreign villages. And you killed him, didn’t you? Because you can’t stand liars. You can’t stand betrayers.”

Kisame’s eyes flash, a low growl escaping between his sharp teeth. Itachi has to be careful. He knows all of Kisame’s moves—but Kisame also knows all of his.

“You’ve always been loyal to a fault, Kisame. That’s a quality we’ve always shared. Our loyalties are simply in different places.”

Kisame presses forward—and some of the scales burst through the bandages on his sword. They slice into the skin beneath Itachi’s eye, and Itachi jerks back in both surprise and pain, blood trailing down his cheek.

“Keep talking, Itachi,” Kisame growls, and Itachi notes that he’s dropped the respectful honorific now. “Samehada is hungry. She doesn’t really like the taste of fire chakra, but she’ll make an exception in your case.”

Itachi flips away as Samehada slices through the air again, its scales now wriggling and growling like something alive. Kisame strikes it into the ground, and Itachi’s Sharingan follows the quick movements of his hands as they make seals.

Kisame thrusts his hand out. A bomb of water, shaped like a shark rushes toward him, and Itachi’s hands form their own seals. Katon: Fireball Jutsu.

Flames burst from his lips, colliding with Kisame’s Water Style attack. He’s been careful, up until now, not to use any jutsu. Samehada can’t just suck up ambient chakra, but it can the moment Itachi channels that chakra into a technique.

The collision of elements is enough to cause the sound of an explosion, smoke rising up above the trees. Itachi uses his Sharingan to find his partner, even in the blur of smoke, and appears behind him.

He places his kunai at Kisame’s throat. “Enough, Kisame. In the end, I simply knew everything about you while you knew nothing about me.”

“I know you care about that kid brother of yours. Perhaps I’ll pay him a visit after I’m finished here with you.”

Itachi’s jaw clenches. He presses the edge of the blade further into Kisame’s skin. “You won’t touch Sasuke. Give this up.”

He hopes his partner will. He doesn’t wish to kill him, but he will if he has to. He can’t waste time with this, he needs to get to where Orochimaru and his brother are—

Kisame smirks. His body is replaced by water, splashing to the ground. Water clone. Itachi spins around, eyes widening when he sees Samehada swinging—

Instinctively, his Sharingan twists. “Amaterasu!”

The scales on Samehada rip through him, even as the sword catches fire. Itachi gasps as pain rips through his shoulder, at the same time as it spikes through his right eye.

He falls to one knee, clutching his eye as a trail of blood trails down his face. His other hand clutches his shoulder, which is burning in agony. Samehada’s scales tore right through his cloak and shirt, ripping open his skin.

Blood soaks into his cloak. Itachi forces his head up. The vision of his right eye is extremely blurred, nearly impossible for him to see when his surroundings are already so dark.

Kisame has discarded the wrappings covering Samehada. They are feet away, Amaterasu reducing them to ashes.

Itachi can’t feel his chakra. His Sharingan has deactivated. Kisame’s sword has cut through it, stealing it.

There are still many options he can take here. But he can barely see out of one eye already, and he won’t be able to confront Orochimaru if he’s blind. The blood loss from the wound on his shoulder is already making him feel alarmingly weak.

“Kisame,” he says. “Listen to me. Please. I need you to let me go to my brother.”

Kisame grins with a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Are you begging me? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Itachi grits his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. He fights to straighten up on the one knee he’s fallen on. “What do you hope to accomplish from this? The Akatsuki can’t give you what you desire—”

“Madara will cast this land into a world of truth—one without any lies—”

“The Infinite Tsukuyomi? That’s not a world without lies, that’s a world made up of only lies.”

Something flickers in Kisame’s eyes at the words—a hint of uncertainty. Itachi grasps onto it.

“This world cannot exist without lies. They go hand-in-hand with the truth. Surely you must realize that?”

Kisame doesn’t move. His eyes narrow. “The Infinite Tsukuyomi—”

“Is a dream. An illusion. You’ll spend your entire life inside it and never know any differently. You claim to despise lies. This can’t be what you truly want.”

His partner’s hand tightens around Samehada. There’s clear uncertainty in his eyes now, his expression torn as he looks down.

“And if I agreed,” Kisame spits, “what do you suggest I do? He ordered me to kill you—”

“Tell him you did,” Itachi says. “Tell him I’m dead—that you killed me. You completed your assignment.”

“You don’t really expect Madara to just believe that?”

Itachi winces as he forces himself to his feet. His arm is now soaked in blood as it drips down from his shoulder where his hand is still pressing against the deep wound. His head spins, and he forces himself to stay balanced.

“Probably not,” he says. “But you won’t ever have to see me again. Tell the Akatsuki you killed me, and I swear, I’ll never show my face again.”

Kisame stares at him for a moment, at the blood coating him. He’s blurry to Itachi’s eyes.

“All of this,” he says. “It’s really all for your brother? Just for that one kid?”

Itachi swallows painfully, meeting his eyes. “Yes.”

Kisame’s eyes are penetrating, seem to see straight into his soul. After a long moment, he lowers his sword. “Go.”

Itachi blinks. “You’re—"

“Just go,” his partner snarls. “Before I change my mind and drag your bleeding corpse all the way back to Amegakure.”

“…Thank you, Kisame.”

Naruto was the one to wake up and find Sasuke missing from his sleeping bag. He was also the one to shake Sakura awake, to suggest they go looking for him.

They left Kakashi asleep. Naruto sees now that this was a very stupid decision.

“Well, Sasuke-kun?” Orochimaru says, pressing a foot into the small of Sasuke’s back. “Which one? We don’t have all night, you know.”

Naruto is frozen in place. Next to him, Sakura is the same, her skin translucent in the moonlight shining through the trees. Her body is shaking, as she stares into Orochimaru’s slit pupils.

“What are you two doing?” Sasuke hisses from his position on the ground. “Get out of here!”

Naruto sees the fear bright in his dark eyes. For some reason, it snaps him out of his terrified state.

“Us? What are you doing just laying there, huh? Get up and fight this guy! Don’t let him step on you!”

Even as he says this, he can see where Sasuke might be having a problem. Orochimaru’s foot is pinning one of his arms to the ground. The other arm is twisted, clearly broken. There’s dirt on his face, along with a long cut on his throat, blood dried on his neck.

Naruto feels anger pulse inside him. It only increases when he hears the man’s amused chuckle.

“Naruto Uzumaki. Come to safe your friend, just like before. It’s cute. I think I’ll kill you first. The girl doesn’t present much of a challenge.”

Naruto can feel the Kyuubi inside of him growling. He can feel his nails sharpen, stinging his palms.

“Let go of him,” he growls. He can feel himself shaking.

“Sasuke-kun and I were just talking,” Orochimaru says. “Be careful. You’re getting that beast inside of you rather riled up.”

Naruto brings his hands together, shaking as he forms the seals. “Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!”

A dozen shadow clones appear. All of them, including the real Naruto, go charging toward Orochimaru.

“Naruto!” Sakura yells.

As the shadow clones attack Orochimaru, disappearing one after another only to be immediately replaced, Sakura forces her terrified body to move, rushing to Sasuke.

He’s pushing himself off the ground as she reaches him, and he doesn’t look like himself. Normally, he would have thrown himself into the fight already, but he looks like he can hardly parse out what is going on.

“Sasuke-kun? Sasuke-kun, what’s wrong? Is it the Curse Mark?” She moves to touch it, and in doing so, catches sight of the thin cut on his throat. Her eyes widen. “What happen—”

Sasuke flinches away from her fingers as they brush the wound. “Nothing. What are the two of you doing here? You need to leave.”

“Not without you!”

Sasuke shakes his head, his eyes going between her and the Sannin, still fighting off dozens of Narutos. “I can’t—you have to—”

Sakura’s never seen him like this before.

Naruto breaks away from his clones, leaving them to fight the snake for a few moments. He kneels down on the ground.

“Sasuke,” he says. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this now. I don’t know what he said to you. But you have to put it out of your mind right now, okay?”

Sasuke shakes his head. “He said—Itachi—”

Naruto feels a burst of frustration in his chest. “Sasuke! He’s going to kill us! Pull it together, bastard!”

Those words seem to actually penetrate his brain. He stares at Naruto, and some of the haze over his eyes seems to harden, becoming something steely and determined. Naruto watches as he forces whatever is consuming him back, forcing it down and focusing on the fight.

“You’re right,” he says, and his Sharingan activates. He turns to his left. “Sakura, stay behind me. Don’t engage him.”

Naruto stands up, and Sasuke stands with him. The last of the clones disappears, and Orochimaru turns to look at them without a scratch on him.

From the corner of his eye, Naruto sees Sakura stand up as well. She falls into a stance, clutching her kunai tightly.

“You’re not touching them,” Sasuke says from beside him. “And I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t care what you say.”

“Pity,” Orochimaru says. “It seems we’ll have to do this the bloody way, then.”

Something brushes against Naruto’s hip. When Sasuke rushes forward, a blade glinting in his uninjured hand, Naruto realizes he stole the kunai at Naruto’s waist.

Sasuke throws the kunai, and Naruto doesn’t know where he got the wire-string from, but it curves through the air as the kunai does, wrapping around the trunk of a tree.

How did he even find the time to attach that? Naruto wonders, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Sasuke’s always been very adept with wire-string.

It wraps around Orochimaru’s body, nearly trapping him against the tree, but Orochimaru snips the wire just in time, flipping up onto a branch above them.

“I don’t think so, Sasuke-kun,” he says. “You caught me off guard with that trick the last time. It isn’t going to happen again.”

Naruto has clones positioned around them. He stares up at Orochimaru, trying to figure out what he should do. The Rasengan?

The sound of chirping birds erupts next to him. Naruto spins just in time to see Sasuke push off the ground, the bright light of his Chidori cutting through the darkness—

The jutsu crackles and dies in mid-air. The Curse Mark on his neck flares, and Sasuke cries out. Eyes widening, Sakura rushes to catch him as he falls.

“Sasuke-kun! What happened?”

Sasuke is on his knees on the ground, panting. He looks utterly exhausted suddenly, his sleeve smoking from the failed Chidori. Naruto recognizes the state he’s in—just like when battling Gaara.

“Idiot!” he yells. “How many times have you used that jutsu already? You’re not supposed to use it more than twice, remember!”

Sasuke hunches over himself, Sakura kneeling by his side. Naruto feels cold fear explode in his chest at their vulnerable position. They both need to get up—

“How disappointing,” Orochimaru says from above them. “Your brother was much more of a challenge. Oh well. I suppose your skill won’t matter much once I take your body for myself.”

Suddenly, like something from a horrible nightmare, Orochimaru’s head shoots from his neck, toward Sasuke with his fangs bared.

Naruto’s eyes widen. “Sasuke—!”

But it isn’t Sasuke that Orochimaru sinks his teeth into. It’s Sakura. She shrieks as he bites her throat, and as his head snaps back to his body, her eyes roll up into her skull. She collapses.

“No!” Sasuke yells.

“Sakura-chan!”

Naruto rushes toward his teammate, his heart in his throat. It feels like there’s ice in his veins, and it feels like everything is underwater. Sakura-chan, no…

Sasuke is already next to her, pulling her limp body close to himself. Naruto falls to the ground, barely feeling it as he scrapes up his knees.

“Sakura-chan! Sakura-chan!”

There are two twin holes on Sakura’s pale neck, trailing blood. Naruto’s heart is beating so hard he feels it might give out.

“Is she okay? Is she breathing? What was that, is she poisoned—”

Sasuke presses trembling fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse. Suddenly, he stills, his entire body freezing. Naruto’s heart jumps into his throat.

“Is she alright? Sasuke, is she?"

Sasuke stares down at her, his hair hiding his expression. His fingers are unmoving against her throat.

“Sasuke!” Naruto yells. “Is she alright?!”

Sasuke looks up. Blood is trailing from his eyes, his Sharingan in the shape of a six-pointed star.

Chapter Text

The darkness encompasses him completely. It presses in on all sides, swallowing him. There’s a small part of him that wants to fight it, but it’s everywhere, and it’s so much easier to let himself sink—

A sharp voice, a familiar voice, cuts through his head like a knife—

“Kai!”

Kakashi’s eyes snap open. The first thing he sees is Itachi Uchiha hovering in front of him, red eyes glowing in the dark, and instinct causes him to immediately stand up, hand going for the kunai at his belt—

The attack is sloppy and uncoordinated, born mainly out of surprise, and Itachi catches his arm easily, twisting his wrist.

“Stop,” he says, as the kunai falls. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Kakashi thinks of red eyes tearing through him, a sword impaling him on a post. He holds his entire body tense.

“And I should believe that?”

Memories have flooded back now, following the initial burst of fear upon waking. He remembers everything Tsunade told him—but that still doesn’t grant Itachi his trust.

He may have killed the Uchiha on Konoha’s orders, but he’s still an S-Rank criminal. He’s a member of the Akatsuki—and Kakashi has no idea where his loyalties are now.

“Believe what you want,” Itachi says. “But if I wanted to kill you, I could have done it while you were asleep.”

Kakashi is still struggling to calm his racing heart as he takes in the situation. The forest around them is dark—he must have fallen asleep while on watch.

He recalls the heavy sleep that was dragging him under—and the sharp voice that dispelled it. Kai.

“Genjutsu,” he realizes. He frowns in bewilderment. “Who—”

“Orochimaru,” Itachi answers. “It was a complex illusion, and probably placed on you very subtly. I was able to break it once I came upon you.”

Fear shoots through Kakashi’s heart. Orochimaru!

His follow-up question about what Itachi is doing here flees him, replaced instantly with a sharp fear for his students. He passes the missing-nin, running quickly over a few feet away.

The sleeping bags are abandoned on the ground—all three of his students are missing.

No, Kakashi thinks. No, no, no, no—

It’s only the decade spent in ANBU that grants him the ability to force down his panic, to banish the fear so that he can focus and think clearly.

“What happened?” he asks, spinning back toward Itachi. “Did you see where they went?”

The look on Itachi’s face is the same as the one on his—someone who is inwardly panicking, but has had years of training in hiding it.

“Sasuke is with Orochimaru,” he says, his voice taut. “I don’t know where your other two students are, but I assume they’re with him.”

The panic shoots through him again. For the second time, Kakashi balls the feeling up and swallows it.

“Do you know where he is?”

“I was tracking him before I even realized Sasuke was here. One of my crows is at his location right now.”

Itachi’s eyes are still blazing with the Sharingan, and there’s an intensity to them that’s reminiscent of the last time he saw him. Hands curled into the collar of his vest—

(“My brother is all I think of!”)

For the first time, Kakashi properly looks at the teenager in front of him. There’s blood on Itachi’s face and on his cloak—there’s a large rip in his shoulder, and he has a bloody hand pressed against the wound.

With a frown, Kakashi pulls up his hitai-ate to expose his Sharingan. As he suspected, Itachi’s chakra is nearly completely drained.

“You can’t come with me,” Kakashi says to him. “Tell me where they are, and I’ll handle it myself.”

Itachi’s jaw tightens. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. But I want Sasuke safe—”

“I know.”

Itachi blinks. “You know?”

“I know you want him safe,” Kakashi tells him. “I know the truth behind the massacre. I still don’t trust you, but I believe you won’t let him die.”

This is clearly a lot for Itachi to process. Shock flashes through his crimson eyes, his lips parting slightly. “You—you know? How? Does Sasuke—”

“No, he doesn’t,” Kakashi snaps. “We don’t have time for this. If Orochimaru has them—”

“He won’t kill Sasuke. He still needs him.”

“Maybe,” Kakashi says. “But he won’t care about Naruto and Sakura. He’ll kill them without blinking.”

Fear is bright in his heart and lungs, threatening to crack through his ANBU mindset. If anything happens to them…

“Just tell me the location, and I’ll get Sasuke out of there—"

“No,” Itachi says strongly. “I’m going after him."

“Look at you,” Kakashi tells him. “You’re in no state to fight.”

He scowls, pressing his palm tighter against the deep wound on his shoulder. “It’s just a scrape.”

“That is not just a scrape, but it’s not what I meant. You hardly have any chakra left—you’re on the brink of collapse.”

Itachi doesn’t bother to deny this, knowing it’s true.

“I’m the one who knows Orochimaru’s location,” he says. “Either I can take you with me, or I can go by myself. And you can spend half an hour traipsing around this forest and get there far too late.”

Kakashi’s jaw clenches. Itachi is right. Here Kakashi is, trying to get Itachi to stay behind, when he’s the only one who actually knows where to go. He’s going to go after Sasuke regardless.

Kakashi will reach his students faster with Itachi’s help—and arguing over it is only wasting precious time.

“Fine,” Kakashi says. “But the focus has to be on getting the kids away. Don’t engage unless you’re forced to.”

Itachi nods curtly. “Follow me. They aren’t too far. Half a mile, maybe.”

He pushes off the ground, into the trees. Heart pounding rapidly against his ribs, Kakashi follows. He prays he isn’t too late—that he hasn’t once again failed to protect what is precious to him.

Kakashi doesn’t trust Itachi Uchiha—but his love for Sasuke is real, and for now, Kakashi will have to put his faith in that.

Sakura isn’t breathing.

She’s limp on the ground, her eyes closed and her face pale. There’s blood on her throat, two small bite marks, and Sasuke presses his fingers desperately to her pulse point, searching for a beat that isn’t there.

Sasuke’s mind is in free fall, spinning out of control, unable to grasp what's in front of him. The evidence of all his senses must be lying, because there’s no way that Sakura can be dead—

Naruto is yelling something, but Sasuke can’t hear him. The image in front of him swims, becoming the eerily identical one from his dream—Sakura face-down on the floor in the place of his mother.

He remembers the feeling of her arms wrapped around him by the edge of the dock. You won’t be alone.

Sasuke’s bloody fingers are completely still against Sakura’s neck. He stares down at her lifeless face, an intense pressure building behind his eyes.

No.

Grief—anger—ignites in his chest, sharper and deeper than anything he’s ever felt. It tastes like hot ash on his tongue.

No—

Sasuke lifts his head. His eyes are burning.

“Sasuke,” Naruto says, stunned. “Your eyes.”

Orochimaru looks down at him from above. His expression drops into shock for a moment, but then his smile grows, a lustful look in his eyes.

“Remarkable,” he breathes.

Every other thought flees his head. Even Orochimaru’s words about Itachi—they mean nothing with Sakura dead at his feet.

Sasuke remembers his vow when he was fighting Gaara. His entire body shakes with fury.

I promised myself I wouldn’t let it happen again… that I would never watch my comrades fall…

Sasuke’s body is depleted of chakra from attempting to activate that third Chidori. But somehow, he finds in himself a sudden burst of strength. Power is surging in his eyes—

Naruto has pulled Sakura into his lap. He’s shaking her shoulders, calling her name desperately. He becomes background noise.

Sakura…

His heart burning, he pushes off the ground and leaps.

“Sasuke!” Naruto yells.

Something swirls inside him as he stares up into Orochimaru’s golden eyes. He sees pink hair against the ground, sees a pool of blood collecting beneath his parents' bodies—

He sees himself, pathetic and weak, running away with tears pouring down his face.

Never again—

Sakura’s smile from that moment on the dock is engraved in his soul. You don’t have to be okay. You don’t have to pretend.

How dare he fucking take her—

Power surges behind his eyes again. Orochimaru’s expression flickers with unease, as he jumps back from the branch—

Black fire erupts in front of Sasuke’s eyes. It catches Orochimaru’s sleeve, flames instantly flaring—

Sasuke cries out, the Curse Mark on his shoulder burning. His chakra is completely gone, and he drops back to the ground as everything in him seems to gasp for air—

Orochimaru falls from the branch of the tree as the deadly flames envelop his arm. In a panic, face twisted in pain, the arm shoots out like a snake, and he slices through it with a blade.

The Sannin grunts in pain, falling to one knee, as his arm falls to the ground. Blood gushes from his shoulder, and the black flames continue to reduce his detached arm to ash—

Sasuke’s shoulder burns burns burns—

A snake shoots out from Orochimaru’s collar, wrapping around Sasuke’s neck.

“Sasuke!” Naruto yells. His blue eyes seem to have a reddish tint to them. “Dammit, you bastard! Let go of him!”

Sasuke is yanked forward, the tips of his feet dragging through the dirt. Orochimaru’s face is one of utter rage, his left side soaked in blood from the missing limb he sliced off to avoid burning to a crisp.

That’s too much blood—he won’t last much longer—

The snake tightens around Sasuke’s neck. Its fangs poise at his throat, pricking his skin, and Sasuke freezes.

“Don’t touch him.”

Sasuke turns toward the guttural voice. Naruto’s eyes have turned a dark, menacing red. The whiskers on his cheeks have become more prominent, his teeth sharp and biting into his lip.

Sasuke stares in shock. “Naruto… what…”

Orochimaru takes advantage of his inattention, and backhands him hard across the face. Sasuke's head snaps to the side, and he tastes blood in his mouth. He stumbles.

He’s pinned to the ground. Orochimaru has a knee pressed into his chest, his hand gripping Sasuke’s chin in a bruising grip, forcing his head against the ground.

White snakes emerge from his clothes where his arm used to be, dripping with the blood still pouring from his shoulder. They twine around Sasuke’s wrists and ankles.

One of them slithers next to his head, hissing in his ear. It flicks its forked tongue against his cheek, and Sasuke flinches.

“Impertinent brat,” Orochimaru snarls. He’s emanating a wave of killing intent, strong enough to make Sasuke feel like he can’t breathe. “I was going to wait three more years for this… but now I don’t have a choice.”

Fear sparks in his heart, enveloping his heart in ice. He’s not going to… take over my body? He can’t have enough strength for that…

But blood is still pouring out of the man rapidly where his arm was. If he doesn’t attempt it now, he’ll die anyway.

Sasuke fights once he realizes this, kicking and thrashing, but the snakes constricting him only tighten. He can’t move, he doesn’t have any chakra, there's nothing—

Naruto—

Orochimaru is leaning close to him. His hair brushes Sasuke’s face.

“Don’t fight,” he hisses. “It won’t hurt so much that way.”

No—

Sasuke gropes desperately at the ground next to him, clawing at it. His fingers brush against the kunai that was knocked from his hand earlier—the one he nearly used to slit his own throat.

No—I won’t let you—

Black spots are clouding his vision. Orochimaru’s golden eyes are being burned into his very soul, and it feels like his nerves are on fire. He stretches his fingers desperately, managing to wrap them around the hilt of the weapon—

I won’t let you—

Sasuke takes a deep breath, and he draws the kunai across both of his eyes.

“No!” Orochimaru screams.

Pain explodes in his face, and the entire world goes a blinding white. He feels the kunai being slapped from his hand—

The last thing he’s aware of is Naruto screaming his name—and a malevolent chakra erupting into the air.

Chapter Text

Release me, the Kyuubi rumbles from inside him. Let me out, Naruto.

Naruto's palms are shaking against the ground, his fingernails becoming claws and digging into the dirt. His teeth are sharpening, shredding up his bottom lip.

There’s a massive force rising up inside of him. His mouth fills with his own blood as he struggles to fight it back. But his own rage is overpowering, only fueling the bloodlust of the beast inside of him.

Sakura is on the ground next to him, pale as death with red at her throat. Sasuke is unconscious, rivers of blood trailing from closed eyelids. Orochimaru—

Orochimaru’s arm is still oozing a thick flow of blood, soaking into Sasuke beneath him. His face is one of complete outrage.

“You stupid brat!” he snarls. The snake around Sasuke’s neck tightens, and he hangs limply in its grasp. “Do you have any idea what you—!”

The monster inside of Naruto rises up and roars. “Get away from him!”

The voice is deep and guttural. Orochimaru’s head whips in his direction. His eyes widen as he shoots unsteadily to his feet, and he swears under his breath.

“Kyuubi,” he hisses.

The fox inside of Naruto snarls in response to the name. Chakra is bubbling around him, and the seal on his stomach is burning. He hasn’t felt like this since the Land of Waves, his teammate's body limp in his arms—

Sasuke is in the same state now. And Sakura—Sakura is—could be—please don’t be dead—

Naruto shakes with rage. He looks down at Sakura’s deathly white face, and he thinks he feels something burst from his back.

Release me! the Kyuubi snarls.

No, Naruto thinks, still struggling desperately. No, I won’t let you. You’ll destroy everything.

His sharp teeth have bitten through his lip. His hands claw at the ground. The rage burns in his chest, coursing through his veins. He has to save them. He can’t let them die. But—

Orochimaru backs up as if to flee, still clutching at his shoulder. Sasuke’s face is pale, coated in blood. The Kyuubi is growling, snarling, hissing, roaring—

LET ME OUT!

Naruto’s entire world goes red—

Kakashi jumps from branch to branch as he rushes after his students, Itachi leading the way in front of him. He’s surprised by the distance they have to cover—how far away are they?

“How did you learn the truth?” Itachi asks, not slowing his pace in the slightest as he speaks. “Who else knows?”

The night air is cold against his face. Kakashi stares at Itachi’s back, the darkness almost appearing to swallow him.

“Danzo made himself look too suspicious after you escaped our custody,” Kakashi says. “The elders were forced to fess up. As far as I’m aware, Tsunade is the only one other than me who knows.”

“Good. You should keep it that way.”

Kakashi bites his tongue against the sudden burst of anger that floods him. As a shinobi, he understands the need for secrecy. Intel this sordid has the power to destabilize the Leaf. But as Sasuke’s teacher, he’s seen up close how his student is falling apart. How he pretends he’s holding himself together when really he’s dangling on an edge.

“Sasuke deserves to know the truth,” Kakashi says. He pushes off a branch slightly harder than he means to, sending it crashing down below. “Your lies are killing him. You’re killing him.”

“He can’t know. It’s better if he doesn’t.”

“That’s shit and you know it.”

“It’s necessary.”

There is so much Kakashi wants to say to that. Was torturing him for thirteen straight days necessary? Making him feel utterly worthless in your eyes?

For everything that he now understands, there’s still so much that he doesn’t. But he doesn’t have time to get into all of that right now, no matter how badly he wants to demand an explanation.

“I don’t understand your reasons for what you’ve been doing,” he says. “But whatever your plan, it’s clearly already fallen apart. Why are you still trying so hard to hold it together?”

Itachi pushes off a branch, broadening the distance between them. Kakashi's jaw tightens.

“Don’t you get it, Itachi? You fucked up. There are no more plans. The best thing you can do for Sasuke now is tell the truth.”

Kakashi remembers Itachi claiming everything he did was for Sasuke, and he expects the missing-nin to argue. But instead, there is a drawn out silence. When Itachi finally responds, his soft words are nearly carried away by the wind.

“You might be right.”

Kakashi blinks in surprise, uncertain if he heard correctly. He pauses, then opens his mouth to respond, and that’s when a familiar chakra surges through the night air.

Kakashi freezes immediately on a branch, his breath stopping. Itachi does the same, his eyes widening. His head swivels around, red eyes locking with Kakashi’s in the darkness.

“Do you feel that?”

“Naruto,” Kakashi breathes.

He’ll never forget the feel of this chakra. He’s felt it on two separate occasions—once during the night of the Nine-Tails attack, and again in the Land of Waves. It still haunts his nightmares, Minato and Kushina's bodies surrounded by rubble.

It’s dark and evil. It suffocates the entire forest, crawling in his mouth and wrapping around his lungs. It presses on his chest, tendrils reaching down his throat and twining around his ribcage. He can’t breathe.

For a moment, Itachi seems overcome as well. He quickly gathers himself. “We need to get there now. If the Kyuubi is loose—”

Kakashi doesn’t need him to finish the sentence, snapshots from the tragedy thirteen years ago flashing behind his eyes. If Naruto is allowing even a little of the Kyuubi's power to leak through the seal, he won’t be able to distinguish between friend and foe. He’ll be feral, destroying everything in his path.

This is his fault. He’d allowed all three of them to be snatched right out from under him—

Kakashi pushes off the branch he’s on, rushing through the trees. He passes Itachi quickly, now having no need to follow behind him. The intense chakra in the air directs him toward his students’ location.

Behind him, he feels Itachi begin moving again as well.

Kakashi doesn’t allow himself to linger on what could have happened to cause the Kyuubi to emerge. The last time power leaked through the seal, Naruto thought Sasuke was dead.

Oh god, what if—

Kakashi forces the thought from his mind. No. Just find them.

He hears it before he comes upon the scene. Noises of destruction—and roaring. The ominous chakra fills the air, and some of the trees shake. Kakashi sees a red glow breaking through the darkness.

At least he knows the Kyuubi isn’t free. The demon fox would have leveled half the forest by now. But if Sakura and Sasuke are in the vicinity—

He jumps from the branch and down to the ground, passing fallen trees as he bursts onto the scene. An entire area of the forest has been blown away, and Kakashi has to jump over debris from dozens of shattered tree trunks.

Kakashi’s breath is punched from his lungs, his heart jumping into his throat. Naruto is at the center of the destruction, a deep indent beneath his feet. He’s on all fours, the look of a beast on his face.

Three of the Kyuubi’s nine tails are emerging from him. He’s surrounded by a dark, burgundy chakra, and it makes Kakashi feel like his bones are being grated. It slips inside him and curls around his soul, turning him to ice.

The chakra is so thick that Kakashi can hardly see past it, to glimpse what’s happening inside it. He forces his muscles to work, pulling up his hitai-ate to expose his Sharingan.

Everything instantly sharpens. Naruto is raging, and his mouth and teeth are bloody. There’s a shattered, blood-soaked form on the ground in front of him, and for a moment Kakashi’s heart stops—

He registers the pasty skin and purple markings around the eyes, and he can breathe again. It’s Orochimaru.

He immediately searches for his two other students, his heart pounding. He inhales sharply. Sakura is on the complete other side, her body tangled up in broken wood. Sasuke, by some miracle, hasn’t been caught in the Kyuubi’s rampage. But he isn’t moving, and Kakashi can’t tell if he’s breathing—he can’t tell if either of them are—

God, no. Please, please, please—

Itachi arrives just a moment after him, touching down on the ground and sending dirt into the air. His Sharingan is blazing, and there’s a slight grimace of pain on his face from his injuries.

Itachi’s expression looks briefly terrified when he lays eyes on his brother, but he quickly snaps into mission mode.

“Get Sasuke,” he orders, already moving. “I'll deal with the Nine-Tails.”

There’s no time to argue. Kakashi rushes toward his two fallen students, sliding under one of Naruto’s large tails as it slices through the air. He goes to Sasuke first, since he’s closer.

“Sasuke,” he breathes, once he gets a good look at him.

Kakashi swallows back the wave of horror that rises up in his throat. Sasuke is breathing, but that’s about the only good news. Blood is streaming from behind his closed eyelids, staining his cheeks like tears.

There are white snakes wrapped around him, though they seem unresponsive now that their master is down. Kakashi wastes no time cutting them away, starting with the one at Sasuke’s neck.

Kakashi crouches down by his student’s head, pressing two fingers against his throat. There’s a cut on his neck that makes him wince.

His pulse is strong, despite his injuries. Kakashi brushes his bangs from his face, trying to get a better look at his wounds.

As he suspected, Sasuke’s eyes have been slashed. Though he’s unconscious, Kakashi can tell by the deep line in the space between his eyes, the rest of the damage concealed behind closed eyelids.

His eyes are still bleeding. But the blood flow isn’t too great, meaning the wound didn’t reach his brain. It won’t be fatal. But whether his eyesight is salvageable…

It doesn’t make sense. Sasuke’s eyes are the reason Orochimaru wants him. So why…?

Kakashi spots the bloody kunai less than three feet away and quickly puts it together. He did it himself.

He’s horrified. Sasuke’s always been so proud of his eyes. They’re a part of his lineage—his last link to his clan. To try and destroy them… Kakashi doesn’t want to think about how desperate he must have been.

There’s a grunt feet behind him, followed by a roar. Kakashi risks turning his head.

Itachi has been thrown back. Unable to regain his balance in time, his body dragged against the ground, ripping his already unsalvageable cloak. He forces himself back to his feet.

Kakashi fights the urge to assist him. He can’t do anything to help. He may have the Sharingan, but he doesn’t have the power to control a Tailed Beast. Itachi is the only one here who can do it—which is why he went to Naruto first, even though he probably wanted nothing more than to rush to his brother’s side.

But in his weakened state… does he have enough power to get the Kyuubi under control?

Kakashi forces his attention back to his student. The two of them are too close to Naruto’s raging. Kakashi scoops Sasuke up in his arms, careful with his injuries.

He rushes to his other student, who is also in horrible shape. She looks even worse up close, her skin pale as death, and her chest doesn’t seem to be moving. Kakashi clears away the debris to set Sasuke down, scrambling to find a pulse.

Kakashi remembers the day in the training field when she sobbed in his arms, so terrified that Sasuke would never wake up. He remembers how fragile her shaking body felt—how easy to break.

He remembers promising to himself then that he would protect her—protect them. That Team Seven would not turn into another tragedy.

Kakashi’s fingers shake against her neck. He forces them to steady, otherwise he won’t be able to read her pulse. There’s a bite mark there, two tiny holes like fangs.

Kakashi prays to the gods he doesn’t believe in. Just this once… don’t take them away from me.

There. He finds the beat of her pulse, and the steel fist around his heart unclenches. It’s thready and weak, and he’s barely able to feel it, but it’s there. She’s alive.

For now.

The steel fist clenches around his heart again. He spins his head, urgency on his face. “Itachi—”

Itachi’s eyes are a blazing red, their pattern the shape of a curved shuriken. The expression on his face is one of intense concentration, and his forehead is beading with sweat. He looks like he’s fighting against collapse.

And Naruto—

The red cloud surrounding the blonde has decreased, the feeling of his chakra less intense. He’s down to two tails now instead of three. His bloodied teeth are bared in anger, a feral snarl twisting his lips, but his gaze seems caught by Itachi’s Sharingan. He doesn’t move..

Itachi stumbles slightly, but he doesn’t fall. He takes a step forward. The Kyuubi’s second tail begins to retreat.

It’s working.

Naruto is floating on his back in water. Everything around him is cast in an orange tint. In front of him, metal bars rise up as far as he can see. Behind them is an endless darkness.

He’s been here before, one other time. The place inside of him where the demon fox is imprisoned.

Everything drifts away. It’s all meaningless. Despair crashes over him, and everything is hazy. Unreal.

“Sasuke and Sakura are dead,” he whispers. “They’re both… they’re both dead.”

He sees the images in front of his eyes. Sakura’s pink hair spilled out over the ground. Sasuke’s hand falling, his eyes weeping blood. Both of them are gone.

Naruto pushes himself to his knees. His arms refuse to support him, and his face crashes into the water. He drags himself back up slowly.

He feels like he can’t breathe. His breaths have become shallow pants. He brings his hands up to the sides of his head, covering his ears.

“What am I supposed to do…”

A voice speaks from the darkness behind the bars, sending ripples across the water.

“Destroy everything.”

Naruto’s eyes widen and he stares. The voice is inhuman, a rough growl, and it twists inside him, resonating with the very core of his being.

A shape begins to emerge from the darkness. Sharp, glinting teeth and blood-red eyes. Eyes filled with a lust for violence—for destruction.

“Your friends are dead,” the Kyuubi growls. “You are alone once again. You have no one once again.”

Naruto can’t speak. His chest is filled with broken glass, constantly shifting and shredding up his organs. He can’t speak. He can’t do anything. Hopelessness presses down, chaining him.

His teammates are dead. They are gone. His friends—his family—taken from him. They have been ripped away, and he is alone.

He thinks he understands Sasuke’s pain better now. To lose the people he loves and cherishes… it’s an agony completely different from longing for the parents he never knew. It shreds his soul, carves into his ribs with a knife.

How could he ever tell Sasuke that he understood? He never understood this type of raw anguish. It’s so much deeper than anyone could ever try to imagine—

Tears press against his eyes. Naruto gasps and clutches at his chest.

“Give me your soul,” the Kyuubi says. “All your pain will go away. I will save you from your suffering.”

And Naruto wants to. Why not? What is there left? He wants to give himself over, wants to make this pain stop. He doesn’t want to feel anymore. He wants to give himself over to the Kyuubi’s rage.

Sasuke and Sakura are gone. The world is empty now, he is empty, and he wants to tear it apart. Because a world without the two of them isn’t a world he wants to live in, isn’t a world that anyone deserves to live in—

“Release me,” the demon fox growls. “Rip this seal off me.”

The monster has emerged almost fully from the darkness, his large form coiled tightly behind the bars containing him. Naruto stares into his red eyes and stands up, taking a step forward.

“That’s it. You have nothing left. Free me from this wretched prison. Undue the seal…”

Naruto steps up to the cage. He watches his own arm extend, almost as if someone else is controlling his body. He watches his fingers curl around the paper seal on the bars, peeling it back—

A hand grabs his wrist in a steel grip. His entire body is thrown back, hitting the water with a loud splash.

It’s like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. A punch straight to his face. Naruto’s mind clears abruptly, and he sputters as the water floods his nose and mouth. It tastes like sewage.

What was he thinking? He was just about to give himself over! How could he do that? He would have destroyed everything!

He hasn’t lost everyone. He isn’t alone. He has Kakashi. And Iruka-sensei. And Sasuke might not be dead yet—but if Naruto lets the Kyuubi loose, he definitely will be—

Naruto sits in the ankle-deep water. There’s a person standing between him and the Kyuubi, but they’re blurry. Naruto wipes at his eyes with his soaked sleeve.

His vision clears slightly. The person has their back to him. But he has dark hair and an Akatsuki cloak, and Naruto recognizes them instantly.

“Itachi?”

“Naruto-kun,” Itachi says without turning his head. “Stay where you are.”

Naruto has no intention of obeying the words, but his shock freezes him in place. He stares at the man’s back, his emotions a wild mix of fear, anger, and confusion.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. “How are you here? If you’ve touched Sasuke—”

“I haven’t hurt my brother. I’m trying to stop you from hurting him.”

Naruto stares, speechless. Itachi steps forward, toward the bars of the cage.

“Kyuubi,” he says in a level voice.

The demon fox's face is one of intense hatred. He stares down at Itachi with utter loathing, killing intent rolling off of him in waves.

“Uchiha!” the beast growls. “You dare appear before me with those cursed eyes! I’ll rip you to shreds!”

Naruto can’t breathe. He can’t see Itachi’s face, so he can’t see if the man is equally affected or not.

“You won’t. You’re already under my control.”

The moment the words leave his lips, something happens with the Kyuubi’s eyes. They’re still blazing red, but the shade seems to shift slightly. Less burgundy and more scarlet. Three tomoe appear around the pupils—like the Sharingan.

The Kyuubi roars. “You wretched brat—!”

“Go back,” Itachi tells him. “Let Naruto go.”

His voice sounds confident, but there’s also a hint of strain in it. His shoulders have an extra weight to them. Whatever he’s doing, he's clearly struggling.

But the beast listens. With an expression still full of hatred, he slinks back into the darkness of his cage. Naruto feels power leak out of him.

Itachi turns to look at him. He holds out a hand, and Naruto doesn’t know what to make of the expression on his face.

“Get up,” he says. “We need to get out of here.”

Naruto hesitates. He reaches up to grab the hand offered to him.

Naruto’s eyes snap open, though he doesn’t remember closing them. Itachi is standing in front of him, his eyes bright red and bleeding, and he’s in the center of a demolished forest.

Itachi’s Sharingan dies, his eyes returning to black. He falls to his knees.

“Itachi!”

Kakashi is by the criminal's side immediately, gripping his shoulder. Naruto is hopelessly confused.

“I’m fine,” Itachi says in response to the unvoiced question. “Just… exhausted. Suppressing a Tailed Beast… consumes a lot of chakra.”

Itachi breathes unevenly. Naruto looks between the two of them in growing anger.

“What the hell is going on?!” he bursts out. “Why is this asshole here?! And what did he do to me?! Where’s Orochimaru?!”

Kakashi nods toward a mangled corpse on the ground. Naruto’s eyes widen as he stares at it, the features barely recognizable.

“Who—”

“You,” Kakashi says, wincing slightly. “I’m pretty sure you ripped his throat out… with your teeth.”

Naruto thinks he might throw up.

Kakashi turns to the Akatsuki member next to him. “Get your brother. I’ll get the other two.”

Itachi nods, swaying slightly as he pushes himself up. Naruto’s eyes widen.

“What?! No! Kakashi-sensei, don’t let that psychopath near Sasuke! Stay the hell away from him—"

Kakashi places his hands on his shoulders as he struggles to get up—to get to his friend, who is unmoving on the ground feet away..

“Naruto, it’s fine—”

“No it’s not! Did you forget what he did?! How can you let—”

“Naruto. It’s fine.”

The tone stops him. Naruto falls back to the ground. His mouth tastes like blood, and his bottom lip is shredded, but Naruto can feel it already healing up.

He looks to Itachi, who is crouching down by his brother. Itachi pulls Sasuke’s head into his lap with care, brushing the hair from his face with gentle fingers. His expression is tender.

Naruto shakes his head. His gaze falls to Sakura’s body feet away, to Orochimaru’s bloody corpse, then back to Kakashi.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kakashi says.

Itachi slowly lifts Sasuke into his arms. He walks over to Orochimaru’s mangled body, and his Sharingan twists, the pattern changing. Blood slips from his eye.

“Amaterasu.”

Orochimaru’s body is caught in black flames, the air filling with the smell of smoldering flesh. Itachi winces slightly, his eye twitching in pain.

Kakashi raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure he was dead already. Was that really necessary?”

Itachi wipes the blood from his face. “It's Orochimaru. You can never be too sure.”

Kakashi turns back to Naruto, pulling down his hitai-ate and hiding his Sharingan. Naruto looks at him helplessly.

“Sensei, I don’t understand.”

Kakashi touches two of his fingers to Naruto’s forehead. Like a spell being cast, Naruto feels a wave of exhaustion descend onto him.

“Sleep, Naruto,” Kakashi says softly.

Naruto does. Kakashi catches his body as it falls forward.

Kakashi takes Naruto and Sakura into his arms, struggling to carry them both. Itachi holds Sasuke close, leaning his head against his chest. They both take off, moving at breakneck speed.

Orochimaru’s body is reduced to ashes. Unseen, a single white snake escapes and slithers away.

Chapter Text

Even at their fastest speed, it still takes them hours to reach Konoha.

Itachi strains beneath the weight of his brother’s body. He’s exhausted, drained of chakra, and holding Sasuke like this is pulling at the wound on his shoulder. It’s excruciating.

He can’t recall the last time he was so pushed to his limits. The trees streak past him as he flies, a blur of brown and green that makes him dizzy. The vision in his right eye is badly impaired, and trying to focus it sends a sharp pain shooting through his optic nerve.

Kakashi is in front of him, his back growing smaller as Itachi falls behind. He pushes himself harder, forcing his failing body to keep going.

His shoulder has begun to grow numb. Itachi risks a quick glance down, his heartbeat skipping.

Sasuke…

He presses his brother close to him, holding him securely even as his arms scream in protest. One of his arms is around the bend in Sasuke’s knees, and the other is around his back. He keeps his head tucked against his chest.

Sasuke’s hair tickles his chin. Shallow breaths puff against his throat.

Itachi has already sent one of his crows off with a message. He doesn’t know what kind of reception to expect when they reach the village, but the Hokage should be prepared for their arrival.

Itachi can’t think about where he’s going right now. He can’t think about how all of his plans have shattered into pieces around him. All he can think about is the unconscious boy is his arms.

He needs Sasuke safe. Everything else is secondary.

His speed is decreasing, no matter how much he tries to fight it. Kakashi isn’t slowing for him—one of the students in his arms is possibly dying, after all. He can’t afford to slow down.

Itachi’s vision blurs. His head is dizzy. He’s forced to stop on a tree branch, leaning against the trunk for support. He closes his eyes and tries to make the world stop spinning. Every breath feels like he’s inhaling smoke.

He counts his breaths, readjusting his grip on his brother. Pain shoots through his shoulder, and he gasps, his fingers slipping slightly.

Dammit.

Itachi curses his lack of chakra. He shouldn’t have engaged Kisame in a fight earlier—he should have just fled. Now, after using his Mangekyou to suppress the Nine-Tails, he can barely stand.

Being half blind in one eye isn’t helping either.

He can taste blood in his mouth, which is worrying. He looks down at Sasuke, brushing the hair from his brother’s eyes and forcing his muscles to bear the weight.

Sasuke’s eyes are closed, hiding the damage he’s done to them. Blood crusts his eyelashes, is smeared on his cheeks. He sliced a straight line right across his eyes—Itachi can estimate how deep it is by the bridge of his nose.

The blood has clotted. It doesn’t look like the kunai cut too deep. But Itachi doubts his eyes have survived.

This is all my fault.

A rush of guilt hits him, but he forces it away. This isn’t the time or place for it.

He pushes off the branch again, continuing forward. He ignores the pain shooting through his eye, the numbness of his arms, pushes past the heavy exhaustion that tries to drag him to the ground. He tucks Sasuke’s head securely beneath his chin, feels his unsteady breath against his throat, and rushes to catch up with Kakashi.

Hold on, Sasuke.

Itachi catches up with his former ANBU captain, by some miracle. They cross into the Land of Fire, and abandon the trees for the ground.

“Will you be able to make it the rest of the way?” Kakashi asks.

Itachi hefts Sasuke up as his body begins to slip, wincing as the movement pulls at his wounds. “I’ll manage. I sent a crow out earlier, so the Hokage knows we’re coming.”

“Good. Hopefully we won’t have to deal with being stopped at the gate.”

Itachi doesn’t know what to expect when he reaches Konoha. Hopefully Kakashi is right, and they don’t lock him in irons the moment he’s spotted. Tsunade might know the truth now, but she’s the only one who does. His status as an international criminal hasn’t changed.

And Itachi doesn’t know how much the two of them know. Kakashi’s talk with him earlier made it clear to him that while they may know the truth behind the massacre, they still didn’t have the whole story.

If the Godaime decides to lock him back in a cell, Itachi won’t resist. He’s dead to the Akatsuki now—all of his plans are reduced to nothing.

Kakashi’s words ring in his head. You fucked up.

The unconscious boy in his arms is a testament to just how much.

The two of them don’t speak again. The rest of the journey is completed in silence, rushing urgently to their destination. Itachi lets out a breath of relief when he spots Konoha’s gates. The Godaime is standing at the entrance, already waiting.

She doesn’t waste any time. “Give him to me,” she says, attempting to take Sasuke from his arms.

Her eyes are cold. Itachi tightens his grip and stands firm.

“I have him.”

Tsunade’s jaw tightens. “I don’t have time for this, Uchiha. I may know the truth, but you still have a lot to answer for. You’re a member of the Akatsuki. I’m not letting you just walk up to the hospital with us.”

“I’m drained of chakra,” Itachi tells her. “Even if I wanted to attack you, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Tsunade bites her lip, considering. “Fine,” she says. “But I’m binding your chakra anyway. Which means you still need to give me your brother.”

Itachi hesitates. Sasuke’s breath at his neck is a reassurance that he is alive, and Itachi doesn’t want to lose that. But reluctantly, he hands him over to Tsunade. She locks a pair of cuffs around Itachi’s wrists—the same pair as before.

They rush up to the hospital quickly. Tsunade grabs him by the back of his tattered cloak and shunshins with him. Smart move—if any of the villagers see him, it could cause panic.

They appear in a hospital room in front of two med-nin. They yell in surprise. One of them drops her clipboard.

“Ho-Hokage-sama!”

Tsunade places Sasuke on a nearby hospital bed. “One of you get me Shizune, now. The other one prep a room.”

It takes the two med-nins a moment to move. They stare, stunned, at the three unconscious genin. Then at Itachi, who probably makes a right sight with his bloodied Akatsuki cloak and bound hands.

“Now!” Tsunade snaps.

They scurry off.

“Your brother will live,” Tsunade says, after taking a quick read of his chakra. “Kakashi, put Sakura down.”

Kakashi lays the pink-haired girl down on the opposite bed, and settles Naruto into one of the cushioned chairs. He’s scraped up, but unharmed. The girl…

Tsunade has turned to her, her hands glowing green as she reads her vitals. Kakashi is talking, and Tsunade is answering, but their voices become background noise. Itachi’s focus is Sasuke.

He looks down at him, wincing at the deep slice across the bridge of his nose. It’s probably going to scar.

I’m so sorry.

At some point, a young woman with dark hair comes by to roll Sasuke’s injured teammate away. Tsunade’s attention returns to Sasuke. Itachi backs up slightly.

Tsunade lifts the boy’s eyelids, wincing. “He’s completely sliced through his cornea, down to the pupil. His optic nerve hasn’t been damaged, but with this level of injury…”

“He’ll be blind,” Kakashi says.

“Yes.”

Itachi feels the knowledge sink like a stone in his stomach. Blind.

Guilt hits him. He can’t pinpoint the exact source of that guilt, because for once, he was not the direct cause of his brother’s suffering—but he’s sure it can be traced back to him somehow.

If he had gotten there sooner… if he had killed Orochimaru when he had the chance… if he hadn't treated Sasuke like a pawn in a mapped-out game of shogi…

“There must be something you can do,” Kakashi says. “If you can’t heal his eyes… then an eye transplant…”

“Transplanting someone’s eye is an extremely delicate procedure,” Tsunade says. She gives a pointed glance to his slanted hitai-ate. “As you well know.”

“You’re saying you can’t do it?”

“I can, but…"

“Give him my eyes,” Itachi says.

Tsunade and Kakashi both turn to look at him, stunned by his words. Kakashi’s single eye has widened slightly, and he looks back to Tsunade.

“That would work, right?”

“It would.” Tsunade stares at Itachi with a narrow gaze. “You would do that? Understand, if I give him your eyes—"

“I understand what it means.”

He knows that doing this will rob him of his vision. He’s prepared to live in darkness, if it means his little brother gets to keep the light. If this is the sacrifice he must make, then he will make it.

He always planned to have Sasuke take his eyes, anyway—though he assumed he would already be dead when it happened.

“You’re sure?” Tsunade asks him.

She's studying him closely, looking for some sign of deception. Some hidden motive. For the first time in years, Itachi doesn’t have one. His plans are reduced to nothing—they are dust.

Itachi looks down at his brother on the hospital bed—his deathly pale skin and the blood staining his face. His heart twists painfully.

You fucked up, Kakashi told him in the forest. Looking down at Sasuke now, Itachi is hit with the sudden realization of how right the man was when he said that.

Everything he did to his brother… everything he said…

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

…what was it all for? For this?

Itachi swallows the memory down, his throat tight. “After everything I did to him… this is the least I can do.”

Kakashi looks at him steadily, and there’s a look on his face Itachi can’t interpret. After a moment, it’s gone.

“Your eyes are damaged, too, aren’t they?” he asks. “So will giving Sasuke yours actually work?”

Itachi pauses as he considers the question. Sasuke doesn’t have the Mangekyou, after all—he probably won’t develop the Eternal Mangekyou with only an ordinary Sharingan.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “Either way, better his eyesight be damaged than completely gone.”

He can’t let his brother go blind. His life as a shinobi would be over.

(A voice in the back of Itachi’s head reminds him he’s giving up his own shinobi life by doing this. He ignores it.)

Tsunade watches him for a long moment searchingly.

“Very well,” she says. “I’ll perform the surgery immediately. And afterwards, you’re going to explain to me everything.”

Kakashi finds himself sitting in a chair in one of the empty hospital rooms. Somewhere down the hall, two surgeries are taking place. He waits.

Naruto is still unconscious. His body is curled up in the small chair, and his head is leaning against Kakashi’s shoulder. Kakashi makes a face when he spots drool.

Gross.

Naruto is mumbling. He’s probably going to wake up soon. The genjutsu Kakashi used to put him to sleep was extremely weak.

Kakashi drums his fingers again the wooden arm of the chair. He’s exhausted from travel, but too restless and worried to allow himself to sleep. If the eye transplant doesn’t work—if Sakura doesn’t make it through surgery—

Sasuke, at least, will live. But if he’s blind, he’ll have to give up his career as a ninja. He’s worked so hard this past year on Team Seven—and his Sharingan means so much to him. It’s more than a doujutsu, it’s a last link to his clan.

And Sakura—

Sakura has been affected by some sort of poison that attacks her chakra network. Shizune is trying to purge it from her system now, but it’s still not certain she’ll be able to. The poison isn’t one Tsunade has seen before.

If Sakura dies—

Kakashi inhales shakily, pushing down on the fear. He can’t stand waiting like this. He’s going to drive himself crazy.

Against his shoulder, Naruto shifts slightly. His head begins to slowly slip from Kakashi’s shoulder, causing him to fall. Kakashi stops him, keeping him where he is.

This is enough to wake him up. His eyebrows furrow, his eyes slowly blinking open. “Kakashi-sensei?”

“Naruto,” Kakashi says as his student stirs. “How are you feeling?”

Naruto frowns in confusion, lifting his head from Kakashi's shoulder. “What’s going on? What—” He makes a disgusted face. “Why does my mouth taste like blood?”

Kakashi winces and doesn’t answer. He sees the moment Naruto’s mind catches up with him, tiredness gone from his blue eyes, replaced by horror.

“Oh god, I—I ripped out his throat—”

Naruto lurches, face twisting. With amazing reflexes, Kakashi snags the waste basket from against the wall, placing it in front of Naruto just as he gets sick.

Kakashi winces at the sound of retching. He rubs a hand down the kid's back as he vomits. “You’re okay… it’s okay…”

He has a flash of memory of Minato doing the same for him, after he killed Rin. His voice echoes in his head, the feeling of gentle fingers in his hair. It’s okay, Kakashi-kun… you’ll be okay…

When Naruto is done, Kakashi pulls a tissue from the box on the table beside them. He wipes his student’s mouth, discarding the tissue into the bin.

“You good now?”

Naruto nods unsteadily, though he’s still alarmingly pale. After a slight pause, Kakashi returns the basket to the wall.

“Sensei…”

Kakashi is unsure of how to proceed. “Did you… want some water? To wash your mouth out?”

Naruto looks slightly sick again, but he only nods. “Y-Yes. Please.”

Kakashi stands up to make a quick trip to the bathroom. As he turns the handle of the faucet, he looks up into the mirror. His face is pale, his visible eye exhausted. There’s mud smeared on his cheek, and he washes it off.

When he returns, a cup of water in his hands, Naruto seems to have calmed down a bit. He takes the water and swishes it around in his mouth before spitting it back in the cup. Then he looks back to Kakashi.

“Sasuke and Sakura… are… are they…?”

“They’re alive.” Kakashi says. Naruto’s face is overcome with relief, and Kakashi’s mouth tightens. “But Naruto, they’re both in surgery. Sakura… Tsunade doesn’t know if she’s going to make it or not.”

The relief disappears immediately, replaced by fear. “What? No… she has to make it…”

Kakashi doesn’t know what to say. He can’t assure Naruto that it will be okay. The fear on his face is the same that Kakashi is feeling.

“Sakura is strong,” he says instead. “Don’t give up on her. She’s fighting right now to pull through.”

Naruto bites his lip. “And… and Sasuke? His eyes…”

“Itachi volunteered to give him his eyes. Tsunade is performing the transplant now.”

Naruto’s head snaps up in shock. “He did?”

Naruto’s surprise is echoed by Kakashi’s own. Despite being one of the few who now knows the truth, it still stunned him when Itachi offered up his eyes.

In the Bingo Book, Itachi Uchiha is known as Itachi of the Sharingan. He’s skilled in almost all areas, but it’s his talent in genjutsu that makes him truly renowned. Those eyes are extremely valuable to him.

And it’s not just his visual prowess he’s giving up. It’s his sight. Without his eyes… his life as a shinobi is as good as over.

“Why would he do that?” Naruto asks. The blonde shakes his head. “Why were you even with him? He made the Kyuubi go away—why would he do that?”

Kakashi should have anticipated these questions. But he was so preoccupied by his wounded students, he didn’t come up with any plausible explanations.

“There are things with Itachi that I can’t tell you,” he says honestly. “Things that only recently came to light. But he isn’t going to hurt Sasuke again.”

Naruto frowns. “But—”

“Naruto. I can’t tell you.”

Naruto makes a faint noise of frustration, but the steel in Kakashi’s tone convinces him to drop the subject. He bites his bottom lip, pulling his legs up onto the chair so he can wrap his arms around him.

“What do we do now?” he asks.

“We wait.”

Naruto glances down the hall. “They'll be okay,” he whispers, as if to convince himself.

Kakashi forces a smile. “I’m sure they will be.”

Naruto’s head drops onto Kakashi’s shoulder. Together, the two of them wait.

Chapter Text

“Kakashi!”

Kakashi is slipping into a doze when he hears the voice call his name. Naruto is passed out against him, and Kakashi startles, causing the boy to nearly slip to the floor.

Kakashi steadies himself quickly. Naruto continues to sleep, half in his own chair and half in Kakashi’s lap.

Kakashi turns his head, blinking away the vestiges of sleep. There’s a blur of green, a shape darting down the hospital hallway, and suddenly Gai is skidding to a stop in front of him.

“I came as soon as I heard!” he proclaims. “Are you alright, my Eternal Rival?”

Naruto shifts slightly, his face twitching. Kakashi shoots his friend a sharp look. “Keep it down. You’re in a hospital.”

Noticing the dirty look a nurse down the hall is shooting him, Gai becomes instantly sheepish. He lowers his voice a few octaves. “What happened? I heard you came back here with Itachi Uchiha.”

He lowers his voice to a whisper when he speaks the name, as if saying it will somehow invoke him. Kakashi resists rolling his eyes, arching an eyebrow.

“That news spread fast. Who did you hear it from?”

“Raidou. He said Genma saw you come through the gates.”

Kakashi nods. He glances anxiously at the clock on the wall – it’s been over three hours. Gai looks from him to the boy draped over him, his eyes broadcasting his worry.

“Kakashi, is everyone okay? You weren’t attacked by him again, were you?”

Kakashi pulls his gaze from the clock, shaking his head. “It wasn’t Itachi. It was Orochimaru.”

“Orochimaru?” Gai’s gaze hardens immediately when he hears the name of the rogue Sannin. He lifts Naruto’s feet, sitting in the chair next to Kakashi. “Tell me everything.”

Kakashi’s shoulders drop, a sigh of pure exhaustion escaping him. He begins to explain, feeling the heavy weight pressing down on him as he does. He runs his fingers through his student’s bright hair, allowing his breathing to soothe him as he talks.

“Orochimaru is dead?” Gai asks him once he finishes. “I mean – really dead? You’re sure?”

Kakashi winces at the memory of Naruto’s bloody teeth, the mangled corpse beneath him. “Even if Naruto didn’t kill him… Itachi burned his body completely. He’s ashes.”

There’s a surge of vindication in Gai’s eyes. He held great respect for Sarutobi, and is glad to hear of his killer’s demise. After learning the truth of the Uchiha Clan’s downfall, Kakashi’s feelings for the Third aren’t as clear – but he’s still equally relieved to know Orochimaru is gone.

He can’t come after Sasuke any longer.

Kakashi looks in the down the hall, where he knows two surgeries are being performed behind closed doors. He swallows down the worry that spikes sharply in his stomach, looking down at the boy in his lap.

Naruto resembles Minato so closely. Even after months as his sensei, just looking at him still stops Kakashi’s heart. It’s been a long time since he’s felt so fiercely protective of anyone, and his chest constricts at the knowledge of how badly he’s failed him – failed all three of them.

Gai frowns at him, reading his expression easily. “Oh no. Not that face. Kakashi, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Blame yourself! You’re making the face you make when you’re doing that! I hate that face!”

Kakashi’s jaw clenches. “If I had gotten there sooner – ”

“Kakashi, you have to stop doing this. Not everything is your fault. This wasn’t your fault.”

Beneath the mask, his lips pull into a scowl. “Don’t try to tell me that. You weren’t even there. They’re my students. My responsibility.”

“You did everything you could to keep them safe.”

“Not enough.”

Gai looks at him and sighs in defeat. “Why are you like this,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Kakashi looks down at Naruto, at the dirt and blood staining his hair and clothes. There’s still a hint of red on his lips as well. Kakashi’s chest churns, feeling sick. Once again, he glances down the empty corridor.

Tsunade still hasn’t emerged.

“So, what’s the deal with Itachi, then?” Gai asks him. “He helped you bring Sasuke here and then… what? Just turned himself in?”

Kakashi’s face goes blank in a way that his rival is extremely familiar with. “I can’t discuss Itachi with you.”

“Classified, huh?” Gai sighs. “You know, it really burns me up inside when you act so cool! You’re colder than ice, Kakashi!”

Gai says his name in that strange way he always does – where he puts extreme emphasis on each syllable, turning it into three separate words instead of one. Kakashi rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond. His friend’s voice, inappropriately loud in the hospital hallway, is strangely soothing.

A door down the hall swings open. Kakashi straightens immediately, his heart leaping when Tsunade is the one to step out. She walks briskly toward them, her heels clacking on the marble floor.

“How did it go?” Kakashi asks as soon as she stops in front of them.

“Sakura is still in surgery,” Tsunade says. “We’re still trying to flush the last traces of the venom from her system. But her life is out of danger. The eye transplant was successful – both Itachi and Sasuke are still sedated, and I’ve placed them in separate rooms.”

Kakashi’s relief is like a wave crashing over him. His hands shake. “They’re both going to be okay?”

“The poison that entered Sakura’s bloodstream ate away at her chakra network – corroded it. We don’t yet know if there will be any permanent damage. But the important thing is that they’re both going to live.”

Kakashi feels something inside him ease, as if he’s been holding his breath this whole time. He can’t be worried about any lingering damage – not when he was so terrified for their lives only a moment before. His students are going to live; whatever else, they can deal with.

Despite the good news, Tsunade’s face is still grim. Kakashi wonders how she’s taking Orochimaru’s death; he was a former teammate and friend, after all, despite the twisted man he grew into. Kakashi wonders if she grieves.

Gai slings an arm around Kakashi’s shoulders. “There! Did you hear that? They’ll be fine! The vigorous flames of Youth burn brightly in their blood – ”

“Gai,” Tsunade chides. “This is a hospital. Stop shouting.”

Gai winces. “Sorry, Godaime-sama.”

“Can I see them?” Kakashi asks.

“Sasuke’s out of surgery. He’ll be unconscious for a while longer, but you can still see him if you want to.”

Kakashi nods. He looks down at Naruto, who is still drooling on his lap, then to Gai. “Could you – ”

“Of course,” Gai agrees. “I’ll stay with him. You go.”

“Thank you.”

Gai smiles brightly. “Of course! An eternal rival is always there when you need him—!”

“Gai, hospital!”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

Itachi wakes up to complete darkness.

He doesn’t panic – he has more self-control than that. The feeling tries to curl around his heart, but he forces himself to stay calm. He quells his racing heartbeat, analyzing the situation.

He stretches out his senses. There’s someone else with him – their chakra brushes against him. He can’t open his eyes, and there’s something that feels like metal digging into his right wrist. The room smells of ammonia.

Hospital. Itachi realizes.

Everything comes back to him – Kisame, Orochimaru, Sasuke. He remembers his brother, eyes closed and cheeks stained with blood. He remembers his own desperate offer: give him my eyes.

“Uchiha,” the person in the room with him says.

Itachi’s heart jumps slightly, but he doesn’t visibly startle. The voice belongs to the Godaime. Slowly, very aware of how vulnerable he is, he sits up on the hospital bed. His muscles are lethargic, the sedative still lingering in his veins.

He rids his face of all emotions, facing the direction her voice came from. There’s a dull ache behind his eyelids, and the bandages itch against his skin.

“How do you feel?” Tsunade asks.

Tired, is Itachi’s immediate answer. He struggles to shake off the remnants of the drug, disliking his senses being so dulled now that he is without his most important one.

“I feel fine,” he says, twisting the wrist that’s cuffed to the bed so the metal isn’t digging into his skin quite so painfully. “Did the transplant work?”

“Your brother is resting comfortably. The surgery seemed to be successful, though we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

Itachi hides his rush of relief, but something in him eases when he hears the words. He can breathe easier.

Still, he remains alert where he sits. His muscles remain tensed. He can’t drop his guard in these circumstances – not when his chakra is so low and he’s surrounded on all sides by darkness. He’s helpless, in a way he’s rarely felt.

The bandages keeping his eyelids closed are attempting to trick him. It’s so easy to believe that if he takes them off, he’ll be able to see again. But Itachi can tell that the darkness is deeper than that. The bandages aren’t preventing light from reaching his eyes – his eyes are gone.

Itachi doesn’t regret his decision. But there’s still a bone-deep fear inside him as he comes to fully realize what he’s done. What now?

He’s back in Konoha – the home he ran from years ago with the blood of his clan staining his uniform. There are people who know the truth now, and the Akatsuki have declared him a traitor. If Kisame did as he asked him, they might even believe him to be dead.

All of his plans, now in shambles at his feet. Everything he’s done – all the pain he’s caused Sasuke – has all been for nothing.

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

There was no reason for those words now.

Heels clack on the floor in front of him. The rustle of clothing. Then there’s a slight scraping sound – a chair being pulled across the floor? When Tsunade speaks again, her voice is closer.

“I assume you’re wondering what’s going to happen to you now. Honestly, I don’t know. I need you to explain your situation to me.”

Itachi frowns. “I thought you already knew the truth.”

“I know about the coup d’état. The orders you were given. But the information came from a source I would be foolish to trust, and I still only have some of the story. I need to know everything – and I need to hear it from you. That’s the only way I can begin to move forward with this.”

Itachi doesn’t immediately respond. His throat feels tight. He knows speaking the truth is his only option now – he’s backed himself into a corner, ensnared himself in the same threads he tried to use to manipulate everyone else. But after over five years of holding the truth behind his teeth, he isn’t sure he even knows how to say it out loud.

It was a mission given the highest degree of classification. And Itachi knows it’s ridiculous, since it’s the Hokage herself ordering him, but speaking of it feels like betraying Konoha.

Your only path left is forward, Itachi reminds himself – words Shisui said to him on more than one occasion. There’s nothing behind you now.

Itachi takes a quiet breath. He wipes his face of emotion, then raises his chin, facing in the direction he believes Tsunade to be sitting in.

“After the Nine-Tails attack,” he begins haltingly, “treatment of the Uchiha changed. Because the Sharingan can control a tailed beast, the village grew suspicious that the Uchiha were behind it. Danzo and the other elders believed it was a plot to…”

And so, for the first time, Itachi speaks all of his secrets out loud. He bares his soul, but he does it calmly, emotionlessly. He tells the story like a mission report, telling only the facts and keeping his own feelings and biases out.  His expression remains impassive as he speaks of the systematic slaughter, his voice level.

He’s had a lot of practice these five years in the art of hiding his emotions. But it’s still hard.

Tsunade doesn’t interrupt him. He’s glad for this – it’s easy for him to keep going once he’s started, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to keep up the mask so flawlessly if he kept being stopped. Once he’s finished, his voice dries up. He lowers his head, feeling faint tremors going through his hands. Simply a side-effect of exhaustion, clearly. He hopes they aren’t visible.

Tsunade doesn’t speak for a long time, and it makes Itachi anxious. He hates that he can’t read her expression. He’s so used to being able to tell every thought going through someone’s head, simply by reading their body language. Now there is only darkness, and he can’t tell anything.

It’s incredibly frustrating. His eyes have always been his greatest weapon, and not just because of the Sharingan.

“So it was Danzo who gave you your orders?” Tsunade asks him. “He’s the one who proposed the plan to you, not Sarutobi?”

Itachi swallows at the memory of the ultimatum – to die with his clan, or to stain his own hands and save his little brother. “Yes. But the Sandaime would have given the order eventually, if he hadn’t. The Uchiha had him backed into a corner.”

Itachi isn’t sure why he’s bothering to defend Danzo. The man certainly doesn’t deserve it. Force of habit, he supposes.

“Be that as it may,” Tsunade says, “Danzo still acted without the Hokage’s authority. And he purposely sabotaged your attempts at a peaceful resolution.”

An emotion tightens in Itachi’s chest. Shisui slowly tipping backward —

“I don’t know if Kotoamatsukami would have worked,” he admits. “But Danzo made the massacre the only option. He wanted the Uchiha Clan gone. He still does.”

“And that’s why you asked the Sandaime to protect Sasuke?”

Itachi nods.

“And you were never loyal to the Akatsuki?”

“No,” Itachi says. He thinks he’s been more honest in this conversation than he’s been since he was seven. “I was a spy from the beginning. Madara made an agreement with me to not harm the village—so long as I was among their ranks, I could make sure that agreement was kept.”

Apprehension flickers in his chest as he says the words. Now that he’s no longer in the Akatsuki, what’s to stop the organization from moving on Konoha? If Madara doesn’t buy him being dead, he’ll assume Itachi gave up information… it’ll cause him to accelerate his plans…

“Madara,” Tsunade says. Her voice has changed, a steely tone entering it. “That’s something else we need to discuss.”

Sasuke doesn’t remember what he dreams about. But when he wakes up, he has a faint memory of his mother’s smile, the sound of her soft laughter echoing in his head.

He returns to consciousness slowly, a heavy exhaustion weighing him down. With difficulty, he attempts to pry his eyes open, only to find that he can’t.

He panics, his heartbeat racing. He gasps, images flashing behind his eyes. Sakura on the ground — Naruto surrounded by a cloud of red chakra — Orochimaru pinning him —

No —

Orochimaru’s voice next to his ear, hissing the words don’t fight. His hand wrapping around the kunai, an explosion of white-hot pain behind his eyes —

Orochimaru screaming —

Sasuke bolts upright with a gasp, desperation and panic rushing through him. Orochimaru is here, and he’s going to kill him, he’s going to kill Naruto and Sakura — he has to stop him —

Sasuke reaches up, clawing desperately at the bandages on his face. No no no —

There are hands suddenly on him, trying to pull back his arms, and Sasuke flinches, fighting to get away. Fear chokes him, rising up his throat, and he can’t see, he can’t breathe, get off —

“Sasuke! Stop!”

Sasuke freezes immediately. He knows that voice. The moment he recognizes it, he feels something inside of him ease, his blind panic slowly ebbing. “Kakashi?”

It’s definitely Kakashi. Not just his voice, but something about his presence just feels familiar. It feels safe, the way Itachi used to feel, and Sasuke allows his hands to be gently lowered to his lap.

“You’re okay,” Kakashi says. “You’re safe. Everyone is safe.”

Slowly, his other senses begin to compensate for his lack of sight. The sharp smell of antiseptic reaches his nose. He hears the rhythmic beeping of hospital machinery. Kakashi’s hands are around his wrists, and after a moment, he slowly releases them.

Everything is coming back to him now, but most of it is still a blur of fear and pain and panic. He remembers the pure terror he felt — the desperation — as Orochimaru’s snakes wrapped around him. As yellow eyes filled his vision. As his fingers wrapped around the handle of the kunai.

He remembers pink hair and pale skin. Naruto yelling his name. His breath catches.

“Naruto and Sakura — ”

“Everyone is safe,” Kakashi repeats, and oh right, he did say that. “Sakura needed surgery, but she’s going to be okay. Orochimaru is dead.”

Sasuke sits there for a moment, darkness blocking out his sensei’s face. It takes a moment for the words to process, to penetrate his brain. His hand is shaking as he reaches up to grip his shoulder, where the Curse Mark is located.

“He’s… he’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

There’s a slight pause before Kakashi responds. “That’s… complicated. And something that we can discuss more later. The important thing is that he’s gone.”

Sasuke frowns. It doesn’t sit right with him that Kakashi isn’t giving him an answer. He thinks back to Orochimaru pinning him and has a very faint memory — Naruto growling, his teeth lengthened into fangs and surrounded by a dark chakra…

I didn’t imagine that… did I?

The memory is hazy. Sasuke grimaces, bringing up a hand to the bandages over his eyes. He can feel the sharp sting of the wound he inflicted on himself, but he can also move his eyes behind his eyelids. They don’t feel damaged.

“My eyes,” Sasuke says shakily. “How…”

Another pause. Sasuke hates this one even worse than the last. It feels strangely foreboding.

“Tsunade performed a transplant. You’ll need to keep those bandages on for a while before we can be sure if it worked…”

“A transplant? Who?”

“… Itachi.”

There’s a buzzing in his ears. The name rings in his head, his hand still touching the bandages in his face. Itachi, Itachi, Itachi. His brain feels like it’s glitching.

Sasuke feels his lips move, feeling cold and numb, but he isn’t sure what he says. He can’t see Kakashi’s face, but there’s a soft touch to his arm, a hand covering his.

“Sasuke…”

Sasuke flinches, yanking his hand away. His head spins, and he doesn’t understand. Itachi… why was he even here… why would he…

Orochimaru’s words come back to him suddenly, like a punch, like a hurricane. He did not kill your clan to test his strength. He did it because he was ordered to. By Konoha.

There’s no air in his lungs. The tale Orochimaru spun comes back to him all at once. The claim of the massacre being a mission — that Itachi was ordered — that he left him alive because he loved him —

(“Your older brother has been lying to you. As has everyone else around you.”)

His head is so loud he can’t think. His entire body is shaking.

“Did you know?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“What?’ Kakashi says, confusion in his voice. “Know what?”

“Did you know Itachi was ordered to kill the clan? Did you know it was a mission?”

He feels Kakashi tense on the bed in front of him. And that’s all the confirmation he needs that it’s true — that all of it is true.

He feels like he’s drowning. Like he’s fallen into a lake, but his arms and legs are all tangled up, so all he can do is flail helplessly. The world fades out, his ears ringing. He can’t breathe.

It’s true. What Orochimaru said about Itachi — it’s true. His clan was ordered killed—by his brother — and Kakashi knew —  

He knew when Sasuke came to his apartment shaking apart, soaked in rain. He knew when he let Sasuke stay the night. He knew when Sasuke screamed at Naruto, the words I love him ripped from his throat, all of his anguish bared and on display. He knew later, as they walked together, as he tried to comfort him.

Kakashi saw how much his love for his parents’ killer was tearing him apart. He saw how much it was killing him.

(“But it wasn’t real,” Sasuke had said, tears stinging at his eyes. “He never cared. All of it—it was just pretend.”)

Kakashi had listened to him say those things, had witnessed how much that it hurt. And he said nothing.

Sasuke is intimately familiar with the feeling of betrayal. There’s nothing quite like it. It’s like there’s a noose around your neck and the floor has dropped out from under you, and the only purchase your feet can find is a bed of glowing coals. So the soles of your feet blister and burn while you choke, and all you can think is how could I be so stupid as to let myself trust someone again?

Sasuke didn’t realize he had grown to trust Kakashi. Not until this moment, when he feels that trust shatter.

 “How?” Kakashi asks, and Sasuke can’t see his expression, but he can read the distress in his voice.

“Orochimaru.”

Kakashi attempts to reach for him, his hands covering his student’s. “Sasuke — let me explain — ”

“You knew,” Sasuke snarls. He feels something fracture in his chest. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me! You comforted me — how could you — "

“I haven’t known for that long — only a few days — Sasuke, please — ”

Sasuke is ripping out of his hold, tearing the IV violently from his arm, stumbling blindly (desperately) from the bed. He can’t see a thing, and he can’t fucking breathe, but Kakashi’s hands are reaching out, trying to pull him in, and he needs to get away —

Sasuke somehow makes it to the conjoining bathroom without tripping over his own feet and face-planting onto the floor. He slams the door behind him, ignoring the calls of his name, sliding down the closed door and onto the floor.

His heart is racing, his chest rising rapidly. He can hear his own breaths, desperate drowning gasps in the empty room, but he still feels like he can’t breathe —

“Sasuke! Open the door, please.”

Sasuke ignores the words from the other side of the door. He leans over and tucks his head between his knees, focusing on breathing. Kakashi continues to call his name, and Sasuke reaches up, fumbling blindly with the doorknob to lock it.

It takes him a while to calm down. Or at least, to feel like he can breathe again and to stop his heart from beating out of his chest. He draws in an unsteady breath, his hands trembling against his knees.

He pushes himself up, carefully walking forward, his arm feeling for the sink. He stops when he feels it, walking slowly up to it. He grips the edge tightly, then raises his other hand up to his face. Dread heavy in his stomach, he begins to unwrap the bandages from around his head.

Light creeps in, and he opens his eyes, wincing as the movement pulls at the scabbed-over wounds on his face. Light assaults him, and Sasuke blinks rapidly, his vision struggling to adjust. He looks into the mirror in front of him.

Onyx eyes stare back at him, set in a bone-white face.

Sasuke’s breath catches. He raises a shaking hand, fingers brushing the skin beneath his eyes. There’s a deep cut between his eyes, from where he dragged the kunai across his face. And his eyes — Itachi’s eyes —

Sasuke struggles to find a difference. But his brother’s eyes are the same exact shade as his own, and they look identical in his face. There’s nothing to distinguish them from his own, to prove they aren’t his any longer. He has Itachi’s eyes, but they look the same.

Sasuke activates his Sharingan, three tomoe spinning around his pupil. Then, the pattern twists, and suddenly he’s staring into a red six-pointed star set inside a black iris. And at the center of that —

A three-edged shuriken. Just like the pattern of Itachi’s Mangekyou.

(“Foolish little brother.”

Itachi’s eyes twisting, burning into him — )

Sasuke chokes on his gasp, slamming his eyes closed. He shoves his body away from the sink, the image of that pattern burned into his brain, bringing with it the memory of blood and screams and death —

He presses his palms against his eyes — Itachi’s eyes — shaking from the images flooding him. Somehow, he’s ended up in his previous position, curled up on the tiled floor against the bathroom door. He struggles to calm his choking breaths.

The pattern in his eyes — the Mangekyou — the same shape as his brother’s on that night — and two weeks ago — ripping into his mind —

(“Tsukuyomi.”)

The blood surrounding him — the screams — Itachi’s voice —

His nails dig into the skin around his closed eyes, white-hot rage piercing him. At Kakashi for doing this to him — at Itachi — without asking — what gave them the right —

I’d rather be blind, Sasuke thinks viciously, hysterically. I don’t want…

Kakashi is still on the other side of the door. Sasuke can feel his presence, can feel as he slides down the floor in an identical position, only inches of wood separating them.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi implores, in a quiet, plaintive voice. “Please. I’m sorry.”

Sasuke presses his face into his knees, squeezing his eyes (Itachi’s eyes) shut tight. He doesn’t open the door.

Chapter Text

Looking back on everything, it’s hard for Naruto to believe that it’s been less than a month. So much has happened—and in so little time.

He hasn’t even had time to properly mourn the Sandaime.

It’s the morning after Orochimaru’s attack on them, and he’s visiting Sakura in her hospital room. She looks pale and drawn against the white sheets, still recovering from her surgery. Still dealing with the irreparable damage done to her chakra network.

(She cried when Tsunade gave her the news. Naruto was standing right there, a witness to the heartbreak in her eyes.

“I'll never be a shinobi again.”)

Sasuke is recovering as well, but Naruto hasn’t seen him. He’s refusing visitors. Naruto doesn’t understand why, but he’s thinking it has something to do with the guilty set to Kakashi’s shoulders that’s been present since last night.

And Itachi, of course. Because when it comes to Sasuke, it always has something to do with Itachi.

Kakashi won’t explain anything about Itachi, which is incredibly frustrating. The man stopped the Nine-Tails from rampaging, and gave Sasuke his own eyes. Naruto can’t make sense of his actions; they’re so at odds with his previous ones.

Naruto remembers the way Itachi kneeled down by Sasuke’s side, the gentle way his fingers brushed the hair from his bloody face. It was nothing at all like the cruel hands that once wrapped around his throat.

The sound of Sasuke screaming—

Naruto flinches, still haunted by that sound three weeks later. He doesn’t understand how someone who once did that could display such tenderness.

“Naruto?” Sakura says. “What is it?”

Even her bright pink hair looks washed-out against her  pillow, lacking its usual luster. She’s exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

The poison eroded her chakra network. Her body will always be chronically weak now.

She makes an effort to push herself up, her green eyes—duller than usual—showing concern. “What's wrong?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

A brief look of heartbreak passes over her face at the reminder of her circumstances, before it’s gone.

“And yet, you’re the one who looks like they’re about to be sick.” Her mouth pulls into a frown. “Is it the Kyuubi? Are you thinking about what happened again?”

Sakura knows the truth about him—about the demon that is trapped inside him. After everything that happened, Naruto received permission to reveal the secret to her—and to Sasuke, once he starts accepting visitors into his room.

Naruto was terrified when he told her earlier that morning. He feared she would look at him in disgust, that she would recoil from him like all the other villagers. He feared she would think he was a monster.

Instead, she pulled him into a hug and called him an idiot—like nothing had changed. Naruto might have cried into her shoulder a bit.

“I already told you that I don’t blame you,” Sakura says. “It’s okay, Naruto.”

Naruto swallows at the memory of his rage—the despair the demon-fox fed on. He nearly allowed that monster to take over. He dreamt of it last night, his mouth flooding with blood as he sank his teeth into Orochimaru’s throat—

Only when he looked down, it was Sasuke’s body beneath him instead—

“I could have killed you,” Naruto whispers, feeling sick. “I nearly did kill you.”

“Orochimaru nearly killed us. He would have, if you hadn’t stopped him. You saved us.”

Naruto shakes his head. He recalls, with a nauseous churning in his stomach, Sasuke being pinned to the ground. Sliding a kunai across his own eyes.

And Sakura—her chakra network now damaged beyond repair.

“I should’ve done something sooner,” he says, his hands twisting into the orange fabric of his pants. “I should’ve stopped him before he hurt either of you.”

Sakura watches him for a moment. Then she scoffs, shaking her head. “So which is it, Naruto? Do you feel bad for letting the Nine-Tails take over, or for not letting it happen sooner?”

Naruto looks down, scowling. She’s right—he’s contradicting himself.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “It just—I just feel like it’s my fault. Both of you got so hurt, and I barely got a scratch on me.”

Sakura frowns. Her skin is paper-white against the sheets, almost causing her to disappear.

“I don’t blame you for what happened to me. And neither will Sasuke-kun. You’ll see.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Naruto bites his lip, looking away from her sincere expression. He can’t help the doubt that creeps through him. Naruto can admit now that he considers Sasuke to be his best friend—even if he is a bastard. If Naruto tells him the truth, and Sasuke rejects him…

He’s been avoiding Sasuke. He knows he has. Kakashi saying he doesn’t want visitors is just a convenient excuse to hide behind.

“I’m worried about him,” Sakura admits. “I know Sensei said he was going to be okay. But with everything that went down with Orochimaru… and now Itachi…”

Naruto nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

He can hardly make sense of everything that’s happened. How must Sasuke be taking it?

Not well, if his refusal of visitors to his hospital room is any indication.

Sakura shudders. “I still can’t believe he did that to his own eyes. It must have been so horrible. And Itachi really agreed to give him his… why?”

Naruto shakes his head, the memory of Orochimaru’s feral scream as Sasuke slashed the kunai across his face ringing in his ears. He remembers Itachi’s hand wrapping around his elbow, throwing him away from the bars a mere second before he ripped off the seal.

“Who knows,” Naruto says. “Kakashi knows something, but he isn’t saying. I think Sasuke knows, too. I think that’s why he’s refusing visitors.”

He remembers Sasuke in the forest—the lost look in his eyes, the way his mind refused to focus on the fight. Didn’t he mention Orochimaru saying something to him? Something about Itachi?

Naruto groans. “Ugh! All these secrets! I’m sick of them!”

Sakura smiles wanly. “I know the feeling.”

The two of them are silent for a few moments. Naruto sighs, picking at the blood still caked beneath his fingernails. He spent ten minutes scrubbing his hands last night, and some of it is still trapped there.

Hot blood gushing into his mouth—

“We should go see him,” Sakura says. “I don’t care if he doesn’t want us to.”

Naruto blinks, and it takes him a moment to focus on her words. “You know that will only piss him off.”

“I don’t care. We’re a team—no, we’re a family. Isn’t that what you said?”

Naruto blinks. After all the craziness that followed it, he completely forgot the shouting match he and Sasuke had during the mission.

“We need to talk to each other,” Sakura says. “Because if we don’t, then all these feelings and issues are just going to build up inside of us and fester.”

Naruto bites his lip, remembering the words Sasuke shouted at him. He wonders if things might have been different if he’d been willing to try and understand Sasuke before it got to that point—the point where Sasuke had simply had enough.

“We need to talk to him,” Sakura says. “We need to make him talk to us.”

“I can try later. But you shouldn’t get up. You’re still weak.”

There’s a flash of something despondent in Sakura’s eyes. Naruto inwardly winces at his own words—he hadn’t meant to remind her of her condition.

She stares down at her fingers, bloodless and blending into the sheet she’s gripping. Her usual liveliness is missing. She looks defeated, and Naruto hates seeing her like this.

Tsunade said the damage done is irreparable—even the simplest of jutsu will be too difficult for her now.

“I’m sorry,” Naruto says quietly. He doesn’t know what else he can say.

A hint of tears gleam in her emerald eyes. She lowers her head to hide behind her hair. “It’s… okay. I just… need some time. To process it.”

Naruto doesn’t speak. He watches her shoulders tremor slightly. She laughs, and it isn’t a light sound. It’s broken and defeated.

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering trying not to cry,” she says, wiping at her cheeks as tears spill down them. “A shinobi must never show tears—well, I’m not a shinobi anymore, so I’m a-allowed to—”

“Personally, I think that’s a stupid rule.”

Naruto jumps, turning his head toward the intruding voice. Kakashi is standing in the doorway, his hip propped against the frame.

“Kakashi-sensei!”

Sakura looks mortified the moment she sees him, rubbing her face and straightening on the bed.

Kakashi’s expression doesn’t change at the sight of her tears. He walks forward in his usual slouch, hands in his pockets.

“Remember what I said to you that day in the training field? When Sasuke was still in his coma?”

Naruto doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but realization immediately blooms in Sakura’s eyes. “You told me I could cry if I needed to. That I shouldn’t be upset for having feelings.”

Huh, Naruto thinks. Someone should tell that to Sasuke.

Kakashi moves farther into the room. “And what’s this talk about not being a shinobi? Who said anything about that?”

Sakura frowns. “But… I can’t be a shinobi. My chakra—”

“You don’t need flashy jutsu to be a ninja. Look at Gai. Look at Lee.”

Naruto brightens immediately. “Yeah, Sakura-chan! You can be like Bushy Brows! He doesn’t use his chakra, and he’s still super strong! He beat Sasuke, remember!”

Sakura sighs, lowering her head. “I don’t think… I don’t think I could ever work that hard.”

Naruto huffs. “Well, no, not if you have that attitude.”

“Hey!”

Naruto imagines what Sakura must be feeling right now. He imagines himself in her place—his dream of being Hokage one day seemingly out of reach. He understands where her feeling of defeat comes from. But the fact that she’s just giving up pisses him off.

“If you really want to be a shinobi,” he says, “then you’ll fight for it. You’ll work as hard as you possibly can to make it happen.”

“Naruto’s right,” Kakashi responds, and Naruto feels a happy thrill go through him at the approving look he gives him. “You can still be a shinobi. I’ll help you. But it’ll require dedication. If you really want this… then prove it. Work for it.”

Sakura stares at him for a long time. Then, her eyes turn steely, her face resolved.

“I want this,” she says. “I want to be a shinobi. I want to be strong.”

Kakashi’s eye curves up into a smile. His hand settles on Sakura’s head. “You will be. I promise.”

Sakura smiles hesitantly. Naruto sits there on the bed, fidgeting and feeling like he’s intruding.

“How's Sasuke?” he asks. “Can we see him yet?”

Sakura straightens at the question. Kakashi drops his hand, turning to Naruto. “No, unfortunately. He still doesn’t want any visitors.”

“Still?”

“It’s only been a few hours since the last time you asked, Naruto. Did you really think the answer had changed?”

Naruto’s shoulders slump. “I guess not.” He grits his teeth, anger sparking. “Still, doesn’t that bastard know we’re worried? I gave him this whole speech about how we’re a team, and how he needs to talk to us, and he’s—”

“Cut him some slack,” Kakashi interrupts. “He’s dealing with more than you know. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

Naruto isn’t so sure about that, but whatever.

What could he be dealing with that I don’t know? Is it something to do with Itachi?

Kakashi places a hand on Naruto’s shoulder. “Actually, Naruto, I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

Naruto frowns. “What is it?”

“I wanted to talk to you alone.”

The jinchuuriki blinks, sharing a troubled look with Sakura.  He turns back to Kakashi.

“…Okay. Sure.”

Sakura smiles, though she still looks slightly distressed. “Go on, Naruto. I’ll see you later.”

The two of them leave the hospital, Kakashi keeping a light grip on his shoulder as they walk. Kakashi remains silent, and Naruto only grows more confused. It takes him a moment to realize they’re headed in the direction of his home.

Naruto looks closely at his sensei. The man looks exhausted.

“Kakashi-sensei, are you okay?”

Kakashi looks startled by the question, looking down at him. “Huh? Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

In a brief moment of clarity, Naruto realizes that his sensei is full of shit. I’m fine, he says, and Naruto would believe him if it weren’t for the fact that he sounds exactly like Sasuke when he says it.

They reach Naruto’s apartment. Naruto opens the door easily, and Kakashi frowns.

“Naruto, don’t you lock your door?”

“No, what for? Besides, what do I have that someone would want to steal?”

The jounin makes a soft noise at the words that Naruto can’t interpret. He doesn’t bother to take off his shoes as he goes to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of ramen from the cupboard.

“Man, I’m starving! I haven’t had ramen in forever! Want some?”

“No thank you. Naruto, could we sit down? I told you, I need to talk to you.”

Naruto frowns at the tone. His sensei sounds extremely serious, and is very insistent on getting to the point of being here.

“Okay. But can I heat up my ramen first? I meant it when I said I was starving.”

Kakashi lets him heat up his ramen. Naruto admits he might be stalling a bit, but Kakashi is making him nervous.

“Okay,” Naruto says. He pulls back the chair across from his sensei, slurping up his noodles. “So what—ow!”

The just-heated noodles burn his tongue. Kakashi shoots him an exasperated look.

“Really, Naruto?”

“They’re hot!”

“Obviously.”

Naruto takes a few seconds for his tongue to recover, blowing on his cup of ramen. “So what is it? Is it about Sasuke? He’s mad at you, right?”

Kakashi doesn’t deny it. “He is.”

“Why?”

“I… wasn’t honest with him about something, and he found out about it.”

“Oh.” Naruto thinks about Mitsuki-sensei telling him about the Kyuubi—about how everyone had always known for his entire life. And instead of asking anymore questions, he just nods. “Yeah, I get that. Secrets suck.”

Kakashi’s face becomes heavier at the words, but the emotion is quickly pushed away. “This isn’t about Sasuke.”

Naruto blinks. “Oh.”

Kakashi frowns at the reaction. “Why did you think it was about Sasuke?”

“I mean… he’s in the hospital right now. And it usually is about him—he’s your favorite student—”

“Sasuke isn’t my favorite student, Naruto. I care about all three of you equally.”

“But you trained him for the Chuunin Exams. You taught him Chidori. You didn’t teach me anything—you just shoved me off on the Closet Pervert.”

Naruto’s hurt feelings resurface when he thinks about it, and he grits his teeth. He’s not mad at Sasuke so much anymore, and he has his own jutsu that rivals the Chidori. But Kakashi’s disregard of him still stings.

Kakashi sighs. “That wasn’t—Naruto, why do you think I taught Sasuke the Chidori?”

“I don’t know, because you like him best? Look, does it matter? Just forget it!”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Naruto winces, because yeah, that’s true.

Kakashi leans forward slightly, stapling his hands on the table in front of him. “I meant to talk to you about this awhile ago. But then everything with Sasuke happened and it slipped my mind. The reason I chose to train Sasuke and not you had nothing to do with me liking him better than you.”

Naruto looks at him doubtfully.

“I’ll admit to paying a bit closer attention to Sasuke,” Kakashi admits. “That’s because I saw certain qualities in him that reminded me of myself when I was younger. I didn’t want him to make the same mistakes I did, and I thought I could help him.”

Naruto feels his interest spark at the words. His sensei never shares anything personal, and he has to bite his tongue as to not interrupt him with questions.

“Sasuke was going up against Gaara. He had already proved in his match with Lee that he was aiming to kill. There were risks during your fight with Neji, but Sasuke—his life was in danger. There were higher stakes. Understand? I had to be sure he could fight.”

Naruto thinks about it for a moment. He does understand, now that he thinks more deeply about it. He feels some of the resentment he’s been holding onto dissipate.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me that? You just said you didn’t have time!”

“I assumed my reasons were understood. I didn’t think about how it would appear to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to explain properly.”

“That’s okay,” Naruto says. “I just… I thought you didn’t want to train me.”

“I handed your training over to Ebisu because I honestly believed he could help you. I didn’t mean to make you feel slighted."

It takes Naruto a moment to connect the name Ebisu to a person. Oh yeah. He means the closet pervert.

“Whatever,” Naruto says. “I still think Sasuke’s your favorite.”

“Are you kidding? After these past few weeks…” Kakashi shakes his head. “Sasuke causes me way too much trouble. Sakura’s definitely my new favorite.”

“What about me?”

“You cause too much trouble, too.”

“Wha—!”

Kakashi holds up a hand, and the lighthearted mirth in his eyes quickly dies. “But that’s not what I brought you here to talk about. There’s something else. Something you should’ve been told already.”

Naruto quiets down, becoming quickly aware that this wasn’t the conversation Kakashi brought them here to have. They had gotten sidetracked.

Naruto twists his noodles around his chopsticks, bringing them to his lips. “Right. What is it?”

“It’s… Naruto, did you ever wonder why you? Why it was you the Yondaime sealed the Nine-Tails into?”

Naruto straightens in his seat, suddenly paying closer attention. “Why… me?”

“Yes.”

Honestly? No. Naruto’s never thought about it. It hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder. Not until Kakashi brought it up.

“The Nine-Tails’ attack was on the night you were born.”

“Yes, I know. What does that—"

“Naruto.”

Naruto freezes the way his sensei says his name, his fingers clenched around his chopsticks.

"The Fourth Hokage was your father.”

The words don’t make sense. They do, but they also don’t.

He understands what each word means individually. Fourth and Hokage and father. But his brain refuses to comprehend them once they’re strung together, and he can’t process them combined in such a way.

“The Fourth Hokage… is my father…”

He stares at his sensei, uncomprehending. His body feels weird.

“I was told to keep it from you,” Kakashi says. “It… Kushina’s pregnancy was a closely-guarded secret that only a few people were privy to. It was dangerous for anyone to…”

His voice fades out as he continues talking. Naruto wants to listen, but his ears can’t seem to hear anything. The chair beneath him is unsteady.

Naruto has wondered about his parents all his life. Who they are, how they died—if they wanted him. And to hear this, after nearly thirteen years—

Naruto has looked up to the Yondaime for a lot of his life. After learning about the Kyuubi, he went through a brief period where he resented the man for putting the beast inside him. But he got over it quickly, because the Fourth was just protecting his village, the way a good Hokage should.

The Fourth Hokage is his father—

Kakashi isn’t looking at him, is directly his eyes at the table instead.

“He was my sensei. I lost my own father very young, and... Minato-sensei… your parents became like family to me. Their deaths destroyed me.”

Kakashi’s voice is rough, his words breaking and cracking as if he’s trying to speak around a stone trapped in his throat. Naruto’s ears ring.

He knows that Kakashi used to be the Yondaime's student. Iruka-sensei told him, and Naruto was so star-struck when he heard…

Naruto thinks about all those years spent hated by the village. No attention or generosity to speak of, except for an occasional kind word from Iruka-sensei.

And back then, even he could hardly stand to look in Naruto’s direction. Because the Nine-Tails inside of him killed his parents.

And all that time, Kakashi had never—why—

“I used to check up on you sometimes,” Kakashi admits quietly. “When I was in ANBU. I made sure you never saw me.”

There’s a bitter taste in Naruto’s mouth. His chest feels tight with something akin to betrayal. He can’t even care that his mysterious sensei is divulging personal information about himself for the first time ever.

“You never said anything,” he says. “You never—you left me alone.”

Kakashi flinches. “Naruto… I would’ve taken you in. But I was fourteen—and I was unstable. Even if I’d been allowed, I would’ve been a danger to a child—”

“You could have at least spoken to me! I had no one! Everyone hated me!”

Kakashi winces. Naruto waits to hear his defense, but he doesn’t give any. He’s quiet, staring guiltily at his folded hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “The Third Hokage told me I wasn’t to be in contact with you—but I should’ve fought him on it. I should’ve, but I didn’t.”

And that’s another blow to Naruto. The Sandaime was like a grandfather to him. Before Team Seven, before Iruka, it often seemed like the old man was the only one to care.

Head still spinning, his emotions an incomprehensible mess, Naruto looks at his sensei with uncharacteristic anger.

“I don’t know what you kept from him… but I understand why Sasuke is angry.”

The jounin winces again. “Naruto—"

“Please leave,” Naruto says. “I don’t want to see you right now either.”

Kakashi sits there for a moment, frozen in his seat. Then, without another word, he stands and does as Naruto asked. The door closes with a soft click.

Naruto throws the rest of his ramen in the trash. He isn’t hungry anymore.

Chapter Text

Gai finds Kakashi exactly where he knew he would—standing in front of the Memorial Stone with slumped shoulders.

Silently, he sidles up to his rival—his best friend—and directs his own gaze toward the stone, his expression somber. “Kakashi.”

Kakashi doesn’t respond. Gai knows he’ll stand here for hours not speaking if he isn’t prompted—Gai has seen him do it. He’s seen him hold vigil in both the sweltering heat and the freezing cold, his feet planted like a tree.

“I heard about Sakura,” he says. “I’m sorry. Is she going to be alright?”

Nothing. Kakashi makes no indication he’s heard him, or that he even knows he’s there. Gai worries, for a moment, that his friend is dissociating, and is ready to draw him back to himself, as he’s had to do many times over the years. But finally, Kakashi speaks.

“They hate me.”

Gai frowns at the words. “Who?” Recalling their conversation only two days ago, he shakes his head. “Is this about what happened with Orochimaru still? I told you that wasn’t your fault.”

Kakashi is silent again. Gai gives him time to answer, to collect his thoughts.

“I told Naruto about his parents,” he admits. “And Sasuke knows I knew about… about Itachi. Both of them hate me now.”

Gai winces. He knows, of course, who Naruto’s parents are. He also knows how difficult it’s been for Kakashi to have the boy on his squad—and to keep that secret from him. He doesn’t know what happened with Itachi Uchiha, but he’s betting it’s a similar deal, whatever it is.

“I screwed up, Gai.”

“Maybe,” Gai admits with a shrug. “But you told him the truth now, didn’t you? Look, I don’t know what the entire deal is—I know you can’t tell me everything—but you love those kids, Kakashi. And they love you.”

“They hate me—”

“They don’t hate you, stop being so melodramatic.”

Kakashi turns to look at him with a glare. Finally, some of the life returns to him, and Gai’s chest blooms with relief.

“I’m not being melodramatic,” Kakashi says.

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

Gai can’t help the grin that forms on his face. Kakashi scoffs, shaking his head.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says. “It’s not going to work. Knock it off.”

Gai sighs. His rival has been through so much in his life—but for this month in particular, he’s really been put through the ringer. Ever since the Chuunin Exams, it was like the hits kept coming for him. Now he has two students in the hospital, one who might never be the same again. And there’s also the ordeal with Sasuke and Itachi—

Gai doesn’t know what’s going on there, but it’s clearly a mess.

“You’ll work it out, Kakashi,” he says. “How about we go get some food? You can tell me all about it, and then we can race up the mountain. I’m still two wins ahead of you, remember!”

Kakashi pulls a face. “I’m not really hungry…”

“Don’t make me bully you into it! I’ll get Genma and Raidou to help me—I’m sure they’d love to know how poorly you’re taking care of yourself—”

Kakashi blanches at the threat. Raidou, in particular, once sent Kakashi to the hospital himself when he was refusing to go home and rest.

“Fine,” he says, shoulders slumping even further in defeat as he turns away from the monument. “I’ll go. Just leave those two out of it—I don’t need another hospital stay—"

Gai grins, swinging an arm around Kakashi’s shoulders. “Great! How do you feel about some sweet dumplings?”

Sasuke stares into the bathroom mirror. Itachi’s eyes stare back at him.

They’re his eyes, as far as anyone will be able to tell. His irises are the exact same shade they’ve always been, nearly blending into his pupil. Completely identical in all respects. But—

But Sasuke knows they aren’t his eyes. And that knowing makes all the difference.

Sasuke’s fingers twitch with the urge to reach up and tear the eyes out. He’s calmed down from two days ago, and he doesn’t actually want to be blind, so he knows he won’t actually do it. But the urge is still there.

He isn’t blind right now because Itachi saved him—because he sacrificed his own eyes. Sasuke isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be grateful for that. He isn’t sure about anything anymore.

One thing is for sure: when he thinks about his brother, grateful is definitely not the feeling he gets.

Sasuke raises his hand, the image in the mirror copying him. There’s a deep cut that runs between both his eyes, just above the bridge of his nose; it’s scabbed over now, and is probably going to scar.

There’s another cut at the base of his throat. Sasuke shies away from looking at that one.

His head isn’t as loud as it was two days ago. In the hours after Kakashi left him, it slowly stopped screaming at him. But even if his thoughts are quieter now, they’re still completely awhirl. He still can’t make sense of all the revelations—the way his entire reality has been turned on its head.

Itachi is evil. I have to kill him.

For the past five years since he witnessed his clan be cut down, these two things have been indisputable for him. It’s only been these past couple days that he began to question the second one—if killing Itachi would really be the right course.

But even upon learning that Itachi wanted to die—that he did, in fact, feel some degree of guilt—Sasuke still never questioned whether he deserved it. Itachi was evil, and him feeling slightly bad about his actions didn’t change that.

But now?

Now Sasuke doesn’t know.

He thinks about all the horrible things his brother put him through—the two entire weeks of torture he endured. He loved you, Orochimaru said. But is that supposed to make it okay? How could you ever inflict something like that on someone you loved?

Sasuke doesn’t understand. He knows that there’s only one person who can help clear it up for him, but the thought of seeing Itachi makes him want to be sick.

He’s scared. He’s scared that Itachi will deny everything he’s saying—but he’s even more scared he’ll confirm that it’s true.

If it’s true, then that means Itachi—

(That means Konoha—)

In the mirror, Sasuke’s expression is twisted into one of pain. He spins away from the reflection, his hands trembling. He curls them into fists.

He steps out of the bathroom, into his connecting hospital room—and halts in surprise when he sees the Godaime standing there in front of him.

“Sasuke,” she says. “I believe we have some things to discuss.”

She isn’t wearing her formal robes, for which Sasuke is grateful. Still, her presence is a stark reminder of everything Sasuke has been avoiding thinking about—the things Orochimaru told him and Kakashi confirmed.

Konoha ordered my clan to be—

Sasuke cuts the thought off, as well as the emotions that accompany it. There’s a rush of anger-betrayal-rage lurking just beneath his skin, but he can’t give into it, not now. It doesn’t make sense, nothing does, and to let himself feel those things would be to let his head get too loud again.

His current feelings regarding the village are the same as the ones he has for his brother—confusing and complicated, impossible to begin to understand when he’s still missing so much information.

So Sasuke pushes them down—the same way he did after the massacre, pretending he was fine and that he didn’t wish he was dead with his family each day he woke up without them.

He walks further into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You mean about Itachi.”

“Yes,” Tsunade says.

Sasuke waits, unsure of where this conversation is going. Is she going to tell him about his brother? The massacre? Is she going to order him to keep his mouth shut, for the good of Konoha?

Has she known the truth this whole time? She must have, she’s the Hokage—

“Kakashi told me you found out,” she says. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. I won’t even try. However, I hope you understand that this information you hold is extremely delicate. It’s bigger than you know.”

Sasuke grits his teeth. “Because no one will tell me,” he bites out. “All of you have been lying to me.”

You killed my family, he thinks viciously, but he doesn’t say that part out loud. When he thinks of his parents being killed, Itachi is still the person he sees. The image of him bringing his sword down on their necks—

Was any of it real? Was it an illusion just to torture me?

Tsunade doesn’t look angry, like he thought she’d be. Instead, her face seems to soften. She looks sympathetic—possibly even guilty.

“You have every right to feel angry,” she tells him. “But it’s not as simple as Orochimaru might’ve made it sound to you. Whatever you’re feeling—I ask that you wait to hear the full story. You deserve to hear it, and I won’t stand in the way of that.”

Sasuke wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting her to agree.

“What’s the full story?”

“I could tell you. Or you could hear it from your brother. It’s your choice.”

Sasuke stills and doesn’t answer. Can he trust the Godaime to tell him the truth? He doesn’t know her—she had been lying to him, just like everyone else. Just like Kakashi.

But he can’t trust his brother, either. How could he? Everything he ever said was worded specifically to manipulate him; how could he ever believe a single word to come out of his mouth?

He wants the answers now, wants to reach out and grab them, to demand she tell him everything. But he thinks of the hand around his throat and the sword slashing down. Thinks of cold eyes and the words you’re nothing to me—

Sasuke’s throat tightens. “I want to hear it from Itachi.”

She looks at him and nods. “Very well. He’s in a private ward right now. We’re attempting to keep his presence here quiet. It’s important you not tell anyone what you know.”

Sasuke feels a dark bile rise in his chest at the order. “You mean so no one will know that Konoha ordered—”

“I didn’t say they could never know,” Tsunade says, a bit sharply. “What happened to your clan was wrong. But this isn’t something that can just be announced, understand? I told you already—there’s more to it than you know.”

There’s still an anger simmering in his chest, But he calms slightly, his jaw clenched. “Fine.”

“Your teammates are okay,” Tsunade tells him. “In case you were wondering. But Sakura’s chakra pathways were damaged by the poison in her system. She has permanent damage.”

Sasuke pales, anger gone and replaced by a nauseous feeling. Kakashi told him Sakura was in surgery—but he assumed she would be fine. But no—thanks to him, she’ll never be the same again.

He thinks of how she looked on the ground, her pink hair spread out around her. In that moment, he had truly believed she was dead. His eyes burn at the memory, and he knows with complete certainty that it was all his fault. The Mangekyou he gained is a testament to that.

You must kill your closest friend. Sasuke doesn’t consider Sakura his closest friend—but he knows he cares for her deeply, no matter how much he may deny it to himself. How else could he have gained the Mangekyou from that unless it was his fault?

He feels sick, thinking about that pattern in his eyes. Itachi’s eyes—

“But she’ll be okay?” he asks.

“Yes. She’ll be okay. But you should let them in to see you—Naruto hasn’t stopped badgering me.”

Sasuke frowns. He can’t deny a desire to make sure his teammates are really alright after Orochimaru—but he doesn’t want to talk with them either, doesn’t want to deal with all the questions they’ll surely have. And Kakashi will be with them, too.

Sasuke winces, thinking about the harsh words he said to his sensei. He doesn’t know if he meant them or not; doesn’t know if he feels guilty or not, if his anger was justified.

He should have told me.

He clenches his jaw, pushing the still-fresh feelings of betrayal down.

“I want to see my brother now,” Sasuke says, ignoring her words.

“Now?” she asks with slight surprise.

Sasuke swallows. The sickness in his stomach grows, and all he can smell is the blood that ran in the streets—can see those haunting eyes that are now in his own skull.

He doesn’t want to see him—but he needs to. He won’t hide away from the truth like a coward. And he won’t let Itachi, either. If all of it is true, then he’ll make his brother tell him to his face.

“Yes. Now.”

Tsunade pauses, looking at him with the same concerned look the nurses used to give him. “Follow me,” she says.

Sasuke stands, following her from the room. She walks at a brisk pace, and it takes them a while to reach where she’s going. Itachi is on the uppermost floor, on the complete other side of the building. His seems to be the only occupied room on the floor.

There are two ANBU stationed at his door. Tsunade turns to look at him.

“Are you okay with me leaving? He has no reason to try anything, but if he does…”

“I’ll be fine.”

Tsunade turns to the two masked guards. She speaks a few brisk words to them, but Sasuke’s heartbeat is deafening in his ears, and he can’t make out what she says. She squeezes his shoulder briefly, and then she’s gone.

Sasuke’s hands are shaking. Itachi is just behind the door in front of him. He stares at it, feeling like he’s going to throw up. He remembers the last time he saw his brother, handcuffed to an interrogation table—he remembers the vicious words he spoke.

(“You’re nothing to me.”)

Sasuke’s nails dig into his palms. He steps inside the room.

He’s expecting anger, when he first lays his (Itachi’s) eyes on his brother. And there is, for half a second, but then the anger is knocked from him like a kick knocking the breath from his lungs.

Itachi is laying down on the hospital bed. His arms are resting behind his head, and his face is turned toward the ceiling. He’s not wearing his Akatsuki cloak—it’s the first time Sasuke’s seen him without it since before, and it makes him seem more like the person he was then than the one he is now.

There are bandages wrapped loosely around his face, covering his eyes—where his eyes are supposed to be. He could have been sleeping, if not for the way his shoulders tensed the moment Sasuke entered the room.

Nii-san…

Seeing him like this—knowing it’s because of him—causes his heart to twist. Sasuke doesn’t know what to do with this foreign feeling of worry in his chest, especially when he’s still so angry.

Sasuke waits for Itachi to acknowledge his presence. But he doesn’t. Instead he’s silent, his entire body held still, waiting for Sasuke to speak first.

“Itachi,” Sasuke says.

“…Sasuke.”

Sasuke closes his eyes, and behind them he sees visions of blood and death. His brother’s voice triggers them, echoes of screams in his ears.

Itachi is silent, his head still facing up toward the ceiling. He knows Itachi can’t see him, but it still makes him irrationally angry that he hasn’t even turned his head. The silence drags out, and Sasuke’s ire grows.

“Are you really just going to lay there?” he demands. “Do you really have nothing to say to me?”

Silence. Then—

“What could I possibly say? What do you want me to say?”

There’s defeat in his voice. It’s heavy and weighed down. Sasuke is caught off guard for a moment, but then he’s angry.

“How about something! How about anything, for once!”

Itachi has pushed himself up. His head turns just slightly. “Sasuke—”

“Tell me if it’s true,” he says. “Tell me if it’s true that the village ordered you to kill them.”

There’s no surprise on Itachi’s face when Sasuke says this. Either he was already informed that Sasuke knew, or he’s hiding his reaction well. He presses his mouth into a line, his jaw and shoulders tight.

“Tell me,” Sasuke repeats.

Itachi exhales slowly. “…Yes. It’s the truth.”

Sasuke grips the rail of the bed in front of him, suddenly unsteady. The words crash over him, and he already knew them to be true, but for some reason, hearing them from Itachi hits harder. Like a final nail in the coffin—no more denying, no more trying to convince himself it can’t be.

Konoha ordered the Uchiha Clan killed. This is the truth.

Sasuke sinks onto the edge of the hospital bed near the end. His breath escapes him, and he stares down at a single space on the floor. His vision begins to blur. The world feels slightly unreal.

“Why?” he whispers. “Why?”

After a long, uncertain silence, Itachi begins to tell him.

Sasuke is silent as his brother explains, talking as though the story is being pulled out of him. His shoulders are hunched as he speaks, his head lowered and shadowed by his hair.

He talks about the Nine-Tails attack—about Konoha’s response to it. About the suspicions that fell on the clan, about how mistrust bred hatred. He talks about the reasons their father pushed him so hard to join the ANBU Black Ops—and looking back on it now, their father’s insistence Itachi join ANBU instead of the Police Force does seem slightly strange.

Itachi was a spy, planted within the Hokage’s command. And when the Uchiha started planning their coup, he was to report information to Fugaku and the other clan elders.

Except that he didn’t.

“Why?” Sasuke demands, his head spinning. “If you really did care about them—why didn’t you side with them? Why would you betray them?”

Itachi is sitting with his legs tucked beneath him. There’s something unnervingly casual about it. Itachi is far from relaxed, but his body language isn’t choreographing the aloofness—the coldness—that Sasuke has become used to.

“I didn’t betray them. I—”

“Bullshit. You turned against them and started reporting on them to the other side—”

“There shouldn’t have been sides,” Itachi says, a slight sharpness entering his voice. “The village and the clan… they’re not separate things. They shouldn’t have been. That’s why the village was created in the first place—to bring the clans together.”

Sasuke frowns. He isn’t sure he likes the way his brother is painting this. He’s clearly attempting to tell it from an unbiased perspective, facts only, not opinions; but tiny bits of his feelings are leaking in, and so far, those feelings seem to put him clearly on Konoha’s side.

Though Sasuke might not be making the proper judgement on that. His thoughts are spinning with everything he’s heard. He’s still processing the fact that his father was apparently plotting an insurrection.

How could I not have known? Sasuke wonders.

The obvious answer is, of course, because he was a child. They didn’t want to involve him. But still, he should have picked up on something. Looking back now, Sasuke remembers how tense the atmosphere was in those days. The distance that grew between Itachi and their father…

Sasuke thinks about Itachi back then. He’s always seemed so much older to Sasuke… but he was thirteen, the same age Sasuke is now. Sasuke doesn’t think he’s ever fully realized that, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Why did it have to be you?” he asks. “And you said someone helped you kill them…another Uchiha…”

“I’m not sure I can tell you that,” Itachi says. “It’s… the identity of the man who helped me doesn’t matter in regards to the story.”

A part of Sasuke wants to press—he’s tired of not being told things—but he still has a thousand more questions.

“I was trying to prevent a war,” Itachi tells him, his voice quiet. “I was trying to protect my village—to protect you.”

The words spark something in his chest—a familiar anger that bubbles easily to the surface. “Protect me?” he repeats incredulously. “Did you seriously just—what part of anything you’ve done to me these past five years was you protecting me?”

Itachi doesn’t say anything. Perhaps he knows there’s nothing he can say.

Sasuke’s chest is twisting with anger. The emotion had laid dormant for a while, the shock of the story he was hearing causing it to temporarily leave him. But Itachi’s words caused it to come roaring back with a vengeance.

He tortured Sasuke mercilessly… ripped everything he loved away and made him watch while he did it… and he dared call that protection?

After the massacre, Sasuke overheard numerous people talking about how Itachi had ‘spared’ him. Sasuke had always hated that word—because spared implied that he had gotten off lucky, that Itachi had showed him some sort of mercy. When in reality, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Spared. What a joke.

Itachi may have left him alive, but he certainly didn’t spare him.

Sasuke closes his eyes (Itachi’s eyes) and he can still see it. He can see the blood and bodies in the streets—the screams and cries in his ears—not just shinobi, but civilians—and he can see the blood dripping from his brother’s katana and the red of his Sharingan—

Itachi refused to kill him that night. Orochimaru told him it was because his brother loved him. But even now that he knows for certain his brother was ordered, Sasuke can’t believe the reason he was left alive was out of love. Everything Itachi did to him—how could he ever do that and love him—

He couldn’t. It’s that simple.

(“You’re not even worth killing.”)

“Why would you do that do me?” Sasuke demands. Distantly, he observes that he’s shaking. “If you were really trying to—fucking protect me—then why? Why torture me, why say those things—why would you make me watch it—”

Itachi flinches slightly. “You adored me. You wouldn’t have believed I did it. Not unless I showed you. I had to make you believe it—”

“Why?! Why didn’t you just tell the truth?!”

And so, Itachi explains again. Explains why he forced Sasuke to believe the lie—that he massacred the clan to test his power. Sasuke was only allowed to be left alive because he wasn’t considered a threat—and in order to remain that way, he could never learn what Konoha had done.

“I threatened Danzo before I left,” Itachi says. “I told him that if he ever touched you, I would leak classified intel to unallied nations.”

Sasuke blinks. “But… that could have started a war. Would you have really?”

Itachi opens his mouth to answer immediately—but then he stops, seeming to seriously think about the question. “I don’t know. Danzo said something similar to me—he said the village was more important to me than you were. I don’t want to think that he could have been right.”

Sasuke swallows at the words, pretending like they don’t pierce his heart.

“I’m sorry, Sasuke.”

Sasuke doesn’t know what to do with the apology. He’s fairly sure that this is the most he’s ever heard Itachi speak. This is also the most Sasuke has ever been able to read him—he wonders if Itachi is actually letting him see his emotions, or if it’s because of his blindness. Perhaps being unaware of other people’s expressions has made him less conscious of his own.

Sasuke’s heart feels heavy and twisted in his chest. He doesn’t know what to do with these feelings. Anger and hatred were easy, but this—

“I’ve hated you so much,” he says quietly, and the words catch in his throat. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve spent my entire life hating you.”

“That was the plan.”

Sasuke feels anger once again spark in his chest. “Well, it was a stupid plan,” he snaps. “What were you even trying to accomplish? If you wanted to die so badly, why make me do it? Why not just do it yourself?”

“It wasn’t about dying,” says Itachi. “It was about ensuring your place in the village. That you would be safe from Danzo once I was gone. Once you killed me, you would be a hero to the Leaf Village. Then Danzo and the other elders would be unable to touch you. The Tsukuyomi—it was meant to push you. To strengthen your hatred and drive you forward.”

Sasuke doesn’t even know where to begin with that. It’s so convoluted and messed up. Sasuke can still smell the blood from the genjutsu; sometimes he still thinks he’s there, trapped forever in that night.

“That plan is unbelievably flawed,” he says, clenching his teeth against the memories. “You automatically assumed everything would go the way you plotted out. You literally tortured me. My mind could have easily broken, and then what would you have done?”

Itachi’s lips become a thin line. “I knew that you—”

“Don’t you dare say you knew I was stronger than that. I was seven. Nobody’s that strong at fucking seven.”

Itachi’s face twitches. Something that looks vaguely like remorse settles there, but it’s such a foreign emotion on him that Sasuke isn’t sure he’s reading it correctly.

“The Tsukuyomi was a mistake,” Itachi says. “Both times. I realize that now. I never should have done that to you.”

“And that’s supposed to fix it?”

Sasuke’s hands are trembling. I tried to kill myself, he thinks about spitting. I would have—that’s how you made me feel. What would you have done then?

But there are tears pressing at his eyes, and there’s something about Itachi’s hunched shoulders that makes him unable to do it. A few days ago, he would have relished in the devastation the words might bring, but now—

Because Itachi loves him, and despite how angry Sasuke is, there’s a small, tiny part of him that wants to throw his arms around him—because the brother he loved was still here, has always been here all along—

Sasuke loves him—and Sasuke hates him—

Itachi bows his head, his hair casting his face in shadow. “Forgive me, Sasuke.”

“Like hell I will,” Sasuke snarls. “You asshole.”

To his embarrassment, Sasuke feels tears pricking at his eyes. He turns his face away sharply, forgetting for a moment that Itachi can’t see him. The emotions swirling in his chest are too overwhelming.

Gods, how often has he cried this past week? More than he has in the last five years, barring the first few days after the massacre.

Pathetic.

The voice spitting the word at him is Itachi’s. Not this Itachi, with his head bowed in repentance, but the one that he’s lived with in his head for years. The criminal. The traitor. The uncaring brother.

The one that, apparently, was never real.

Sasuke turns back to his brother. “I’m not thanking you for giving me your eyes,” he says harshly.

Itachi’s mouth quirks just slightly. “I don’t expect you to.”

Both of them are silent. Itachi has explained and has said what has needed to be said—so only question left is what happens from here, but Sasuke doesn’t know.

“What now?” Sasuke asks. “What are you going to do?”

Itachi bites his lower lip. “I know I can never take back what I’ve done… and you have no reason to forgive me. So whatever you want from me… I’ll do. If you don’t want me in your life… then I’ll go.”

Sasuke’s breath catches. He doesn’t know how to respond. He can hardly stand to look at his brother right now—not without remembering everything he’s done—but the idea of him just being gone again—

“I can’t forgive you,” Sasuke says. “But… I don’t want you to leave either. I need… time.”

Brief surprise crosses Itachi’s face—he really was expecting me to send him away, Sasuke realizes. It’s hard to read with the strip of bandages covering his eyelids, but Sasuke thinks Itachi looks relieved.

“Okay,” Itachi says. “Then I won’t leave. Take all the time you need.”

“I might never forgive you,” Sasuke warns.

“I know.”

“And you won’t run away again? You’ll stay while I figure it out?”

“If you want me to stay… then I’ll stay. I won’t do anything to hurt you again. I promise.”

Sasuke is silent for a moment, staring at his brother’s bandaged face. Every part of him seems sincere, but that means nothing. Itachi made him a thousand promises in the past—and he broke every one he ever made.

“I wish I could trust that,” Sasuke says. “But I know better now. I don’t trust your promises. I don’t trust you.”

Itachi is quiet for a moment. There’s something sad about his expression. He inclines his head.

“Then I guess that’s something I’ll have to earn.”

Chapter Text

It’s been five days since the fiasco that left two members of Team Seven and a notorious missing-nin in the hospital. Tsunade sits at her desk and wishes she could go back in time—to refuse the position of Hokage when Naruto and Jiraiya sought her out to demand it of her.

She’s only held the position for two weeks.

Jiraiya looks at her in sympathy, leaning against the frame of the closed window. “A fine mess you’ve landed yourself in, Tsunade.”

Tsunade massages her temples before raising her head. This is unacceptable. She shouldn’t have to be dealing with this; she shouldn’t have to be spending her newly-received tenure in this chair dealing with this political chaos. This was Sarutobi’s responsibility, a tangled web of lies and corruption woven right under his nose by fault of his negligence—but now he is dead, and she is left with his mess.

She is left with Danzo Shimura—the dark roots lurking under Konoha’s soil, poisoning its bright green leaves.

“What are you planning to do with him?” Jiraiya asks.

“Who?” Tsunade asks with a sigh. “Danzo or Itachi?”

“Itachi,” he replies, deciding to present her with the easier option—because as ludicrous as it sounds, the former-Akatsuki actually is the lesser issue at the moment.

Easier to deal with than Danzo, a member of the Council and a powerful figure, backed by the other two elders. Seeds of discord and corruption sliding into every crack and crevice, black roots reaching deep into the ground and growing, strangling Konoha’s beating heart.

Yes. Itachi Uchiha is the easier option here.

“For now, he will be kept under guard. Not ANBU, they can no longer be trusted—jounin handpicked by me personally. His presence in the village will be kept a secret as the investigation into Danzo continues. Once it is complete, the information surrounding the massacre will be declassified and made public knowledge. Carefully, of course. Itachi is disabled, so he will be unable to return to his position as a shinobi, but he will be reinstated as a village citizen. His status of traitor will be dropped, so long as he continues to provide intelligence on the Akatsuki.”

Jiraiya takes a long moment to think over those words, appearing to think deeply before formulating a response. “You’re sure that’s wise? Just because he was once loyal doesn’t mean he can still be trusted. He’s been a member of a criminal organization for years now.”

“An organization that he joined on the Third’s orders,” Tsunade reminds him. “And that he has now betrayed. He’s already provided us with invaluable information.”

Jiraiya’s mouth thins, still doubtful.

“You’re misunderstanding him,” she says. “Itachi lost his clan and his village in the same act. His report on the matter makes it very clear that there is only one thing that still matters to him—his little brother. If it weren’t so horrifying, I would even say that his plan was a good one. Itachi intended to exist as a reviled criminal until Sasuke could reasonably kill him. Sasuke would be a hero to Konoha, redeeming the Uchiha name.”

“You don’t believe he will still attempt something of the kind?”

“It was made clear to him that too many people know the truth. He cannot possibly silence everyone who knows, not now, and when it does eventually come to light, Sasuke would hardly be considered a hero for killing him. Rather, everyone will see both boys for what they are. Tragic, mistreated children.”

Because they are children, Tsunade thinks. They are, and this village has failed them. Itachi was only thirteen when he was made to cut down his family in service to Konoha.

Tsunade knows that the life of a shinobi is cruel. That it forces children to become soldiers. But this spits in the face of everything Konoha was built to stand for—everything her grandfather fought to build and to protect.

The title of Hokage has been stained with blood. It was her own sensei who allowed it to happen, and now it can never be washed out.

“And what of Sasuke?” Jiraiya asks. “One of Itachi’s reasons for keeping the truth from him was so that he would never turn on the village. Even if Itachi is still loyal, can we trust that he is?”

Tsunade does not answer this. It would be understandable for Sasuke Uchiha to wish harm on Konoha—but at the same time, Tsunade cannot allow any threats to this village. He’s just a kid, a kid who has been broken and traumatized and had his entire world turned upside down—but if he’s going to seek vengeance—

“He’s angry, understandably,” Tsunade says. “But I’ve seen no signs of anything beyond that—not yet, at least. He’s still processing everything. I believe it best to let him for now.”

Truthfully, Tsunade doesn’t know what she’ll do if Sasuke decides to turn his back on Konoha. He has every right to hate the village, but as Hokage, she’ll have a responsibility.

What happened to the Uchiha Clan was horrible. But they were planning a coup. They were a serious, genuine threat to the village. The elders’ decision to wipe them out, while morally wrong, isn’t actually a crime. They can’t be punished.

Danzo can be, for at least one account of bloodline theft—as well as various other crimes she’s sure will be uncovered soon. But Homura and Koharu can’t be brought up on any actual charges.

Sasuke deciding to carry out his own vengeance, however justified, will be considered treasonous.

Tsunade sighs. “This is a mess,” she says. “And then there’s what Itachi said…”

“Madara Uchiha,” Jiraiya says gravely. “You believe him?”

Does Tsunade believe Madara Uchiha is the leader of the Akatsuki? She doesn’t know. It seems impossible. But Inoichi confirmed it, and Itachi has no reason to lie…

“I believe he believes it,” Tsunade says. “Regardless of whether it’s actually him, if he’s powerful enough to pass as him then we’re already in major trouble.”

“What will you do?”

“I have no idea.”

Both of them are silent for a moment, quietly contemplating the threat that lies ahead—the war that is creeping steadily closer. Tsunade has fought in two World Wars, and she remembers the way the air felt as they crept closer; the way the sky seemed to hold its breath. It feels that way again now.

“We get rid of one threat,” Jiraiya says, “only for an even larger one to take its place.”

Tsunade hates the painful twist her heart makes at the words. Because Orochimaru is dead, and she should be relieved, not sad. He killed her sensei and attempted to destroy her home—he doesn’t deserve her grief. Not one bit of it.

And yet, there’s a part of her that grieves him still.

Jiraiya’s face becomes pinched slightly. “Sorry.”

Tsunade clenches her jaw. “I know it’s wrong to grieve him…”

“It isn’t. You’re allowed to feel how you want.”

Tsunade meets his eyes from behind her desk. “Do you? Grieve him?”

Jiraiya turns his troubled gaze toward the window, those dark eyes heavy with deep emotions. He doesn’t respond.

(And Tsunade remembers a child; golden eyes and dark hair, pale lips curving into a genuine smile—

—but that boy died a long time ago.)

Finally, three days after his visit with his brother, Sasuke lifts his ban on having no visitors. Naruto and Sakura are bursting through the door of his hospital room almost immediately, not even ten minutes after he tells the receptionist downstairs. Sasuke has no idea how they became aware so quickly, and it’s honestly kind of frightening.

Sakura moves to hug him, but Sasuke flinches when he catches sight of the twin marks on her pale throat. She freezes, then steps back to a wider distance.

“Sasuke-kun,” she breathes. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes are on his face, and Sasuke knows without asking that she’s trying to find a difference in the dark eyes that are there. She won’t find one—Sasuke has tried, standing in front of the mirror for over an hour.

(Itachi’s eyes—)

“I’m okay,” Sasuke says. It’s far from the truth, but it’s the easiest answer. And how he’s feeling is too much to explain anyway, even if he were able to find the correct words. “How are you? I thought…”

Sasuke chokes on his words, remembering the feeling of seeing her lifeless on the ground. He can taste the fear that he felt. I thought you were dead. I thought…

Sakura’s face softens. She sits down on the end of the bed, reaching over to cover his hand.

“I’m okay,” she also says, smiling wanly. “I mean… I’m alive. And I’m dealing with it.”

Naruto is unusually silent, standing by the bed. Sasuke is trying not to look at him too obviously, but the last time he saw him, his teammate was surrounded by a malicious chakra, transforming into some sort of inhuman… monster.

He was on the edge of consciousness when he saw it… but he’s certain he wasn’t imagining it.

“About time you finally let us see you,” Naruto says. “It’s been a week! We were worried! Did you forget everything I said to you about us being a team!”

Normally, this would be the time when Sasuke would become irritated and snap back at the blonde. But for some reason, he doesn’t feel the urge to this time. He also can’t bring himself to apologize, but he’s too tired to fight. He doesn’t want to fight.

“It’s been five days,” Sasuke tells him. “Not a week. And I’ve only been awake for four of them.”

Naruto rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Nice scar, bastard.”

Sasuke raises his hands to the cut between his eyes. It’s healing very quickly, and it’s already showing signs of scarring—as is the thin line at his throat.

“You look like Iruka-sensei,” Sakura says.

Naruto scoffs. “He does not! Iruka-sensei’s scar is lower down. It’s a lot cooler.”

Sasuke isn’t sure whether he’s meant to be insulted by that, and he lets the words pass him. “Where’s Kakashi? Doesn’t he want to come pester me too?”

Not that Sasuke wants to see his sensei at all. He’s just surprised that the man hasn’t tried to come and talk to him since Sasuke threw him out.

Naruto’s face tightens. “I’m not talking to him.”

Sakura sighs. “Naruto…”

Sasuke frowns. “Why? What did he do to you?”

“Kept a secret from me,” Naruto says, crossing his arms across his chest. “I heard he kept something from you, too.”

Sasuke swallows down the bitter feeling of betrayal in his throat. “He did.”

“Was it about Itachi?”

“Maybe. Was yours about that thing I saw you turn into?”

Naruto’s face immediately drains of color, going chalk-white. Sakura sucks in a sharp breath, turning to look at him. Sasuke knows he hit the nail on the head.

“You saw that?” Naruto says quietly, voice shaking.

“I saw something.” Sasuke remembers the strange chakra—but stronger than that, he remembers the malicious feeling of it in the air. It isn’t the first time he’s felt it, either. “And before, too. In the Forest of Death… with Gaara… with Itachi…”

A lightbulb switches on in his head, as he remembers Itachi’s indifferent face as he spoke to Jiraiya. Ignoring Sasuke’s presence completely. Naruto is the prize the Akatsuki are after, he said.

This, Sasuke realizes. This was the reason.

“Naruto,” Sasuke says, his eyes narrowed, “…what are you?”

An emotion flashes through Naruto’s eyes. He hardens his jaw, then steps forward to join Sakura on the foot of the bed, facing Sasuke directly.

“I’m your friend.”

The three words steal Sasuke’s breath—the strength and conviction behind them. He remembers the two of them standing in front of Orochimaru, refusing to run when he told them to—protecting him.

An emotion wells up in his chest. He’s speechless.

The three of them are silent for a long moment. Muffled voices filter in from the hallway through the crack in the door. They are sitting together on the bed in an almost-circle, facing each other. Naruto is sitting on one of his feet, but it doesn’t hurt, so Sasuke doesn’t try to move him.

Sakura turns to look at Naruto. “Tell him,” she says.

Naruto swallows, a flash of fear going through his eyes. “The Nine-Tailed Fox is inside me,” he blurts out. “The Fourth Hokage is my father, and he sealed it inside me to save the village thirteen years ago.”

Sasuke blinks. His mouth falls open slightly.

Sakura smiles—and then her eyes widen as she processes the whole sentence, and her head snaps around. “Wait, the Fourth Hokage was your father?! You didn’t tell me that!”

And so, Naruto begins his explanation. He talks about when he found out about hosting the fox inside him, and how it was told to him to have happened. Sakura listens as intently as he does—though she was already aware of him being the jinchuuriki, these details are clearly new to her as well.

So many things that never made sense click into place. Naruto’s rapid growth—his sudden bursts of strange strength. The reason the villagers have always hated him. And though Sasuke does feel a bit resentful, knowing his teammate has this much power inside him… is already so much stronger than him… he also feels something inside of him ease.

Because this is why Itachi was after Naruto—because of what is inside of him, not because he holds him in higher regard than he does Sasuke.

(He knows now, of course, that most of Itachi was an act that day. But it still doesn’t erase that burning, scathing feeling of worthlessness, when his brother’s eyes passed him over completely in favor of a boy he didn’t even know.

(“Naruto is the prize the Akatsuki are after.”)

(“Go away. You don’t interest me at the moment.”))

“That’s why Itachi wanted you,” Sasuke says out loud. “Because of the fox.”

Naruto nods. “Yeah. That organization—Akatguigi-whatever—”

“Akatsuki.”

“Yeah, that. They’re after the power of the Kyuubi. I don’t know why.” Naruto looks at him uncertainly for a moment, then asks, “By the way, what’s up with your brother anyway? I mean, he sort of saved me from going on a rampage and killing you… and he gave you his eyes… but he also tortured you and killed your family, so… I don’t get it. Like, is he evil or not? Are him and his weird shark friend still coming after me, or…? I’m confused. He’s confusing.”

“Itachi’s always been confusing,” Sasuke says.

He leaves it at that, allowing them both to draw the conclusion that he doesn’t know, either. It’s not that he cares about keeping it a secret—he’s sick to death of Konoha’s secrets, and he’s tempted to shout the truth from the rooftop just as a fuck you to every single person who kept their lips sealed all these years—but telling everything to his teammates is something he isn’t prepared to do.

It will require a long conversation—and they will have so many questions. Sasuke can’t deal with their feelings when he hasn’t figured out his own.

(And what if they side with Konoha? What if—)

No. Sasuke can’t do it. Not now.

“I can’t believe your father is the Yondaime,” Sakura says, shaking her head. “That’s just—wow.”

“Naruto does look just like him,” Sasuke points out. “Though the Yondaime was a genius, so clearly Naruto didn’t inherit his brains. There’s nothing but empty space up there.”

Sakura laughs. Naruto scowls, kicking out at Sasuke with one of the feet he has crossed in front of him. “Bastard! Are you forgetting all those times you were down on the ground and I had to swoop in to rescue you?”

Sakura turns to him with a half-smile. “He has a point, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke scowls. “Remind me why I haven’t kicked both of you out yet.”

Naruto grins. “Because you secretly looovve usss—”

The blonde reaches for him, grabbing his shirt and shaking him. Sasuke bats him away irritably, attempting to free the foot he’s still sitting on to kick out at him.

“Get—off—dead-last moron—stop touching—”

His foot hooks around the bedsheet and pulls at it. Naruto’s eyes widen, and he lets out a cry as his body tips off the bed, his arms flailing comically. He lands on the floor with a thump, now tangled in the white sheet that covered Sasuke.

All three of them are quiet for a moment—then Sakura lets out a loud peal of laughter.

“Sakura-chan! It’s not funny! I think I bruised one of the bones in my butt—”

This only makes her laughter rise in volume. To Sasuke’s consternation, he feels the corners of his own lips curve up. He quickly smothers any traces of amusement. “Get up off the floor, moron.”

Naruto scrambles back up onto the bed, raising a fist to punch Sasuke in the shoulder. Sasuke scowls, pushing his arm away.

“Knock it off. Or I’ll throw you off again.”

Naruto crosses his legs in front of him, setting more firmly on the bed. “I can’t believe Kakashi-sensei kept it from me,” he says. “They were my parents. And he never said anything. Did you know the Fourth Hokage was his sensei?”

Sakura blinks. “Really?”

“I knew that,” Sasuke says.

“How?”

“There’s a picture in his apartment. I saw it when I was staying with him.”

“Are you still going to stay with him?” Sakura asks.

Sasuke frowns and doesn’t answer. No, he doesn’t want to stay with Kakashi right now—even if his anger at the man is beginning to cool down, he’s still mad at him. But he hates the idea of going back to the empty compound.

“You can stay with me!” Naruto says. “It can be a like a sleepover!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Your place looks like a hurricane went through it. I’m amazed you can even live there.”

“Hey! It’s not that bad!”

Sasuke doesn’t attempt to argue. Sakura smiles at them quietly, before the expression fades into one of contemplation. “I think you should consider forgiving Kakashi-sensei,” she says. “Both of you. Naruto, I understand why you’re angry—and I don’t know what he kept from you, Sasuke-kun, but I understand it was important—but Kakashi-sensei is hurting, too. He came by my hospital room two days ago. He looked really bad.”

Naruto crosses his arms across his chest. “Nu-uh. I don’t care.”

Sakura frowns. “Naruto. You said all of us were a team, remember? That we need to talk to each other. Well, it’s not just the three of us. Kakashi-sensei is a part of Team Seven, too.”

The steely resolve in Naruto’s eyes wavers slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

Sakura turns to Sasuke. “Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke scowls. “Whatever. Maybe.”

She smiles. “Good! I just want all four of us to be a team again.”

There are circles under her eyes, and her pink hair looks drab and washed-out. Sasuke feels guilt churn inside of his stomach looking at her. She’ll never be the same again, forever damaged by the events of what happened. She nearly died—and it’s all Sasuke’s fault.

He winces, raising a hand to touch the black mark on his neck. Orochimaru is dead, but nothing about it has changed. He can still feel its power burning beneath his skin—fused into his bones.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His eyes flicker to the two pincer marks at her neck. “You nearly died because of me. And you’ll never be a shinobi now…”

The apology feels strange and foreign on his lips, but it’s something he feels needs to be said, even if it stings his pride to do so. He doesn’t look away from her.

Sakura shakes her head. “I’m not giving up. I will be a shinobi. And it wasn’t your fault, Sasuke-kun.”

“Yeah!” Naruto agrees immediately. “Blame that damn snake! Everything’s all his fault! At least that creep is gone now. Even if it was kind of disgusting how I ripped out his throat…”

“You did what?!”

Time passes as they talk. It feels… nice, for the three of them to be together like this, though Sasuke would never admit it, not even on pain of death. There’s an empty fourth space where Kakashi should be, but Sasuke stubbornly ignores it. Sakura ends up with her head in his lap, and for reasons unknown to him, he allows it instead of shoving her off.

They’re talking about what Sakura is going to do now. Sasuke mentions the different options she still has, and at the mention of possibly learning to fight using only taijutsu, Naruto bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god, Sakura-chan! You can be like Bushy Brows! You can get your own green jumpsuit!”

Sakura looks absolutely horrified. “That is not going to happen! Can you imagine what Ino would say if she saw me in something like that?”

“That you really manage to rock spandex?”

Sakura sits up to throw a fist at him. Naruto yelps, shielding his face and yelling rapid-fire apologies.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura asks him, sometime a little later. “There’s something I was wondering about. How did Orochimaru get a hold of you in the first place? Did he take you? Kakashi-sensei said he was placed under a genjutsu, but Naruto and I didn’t hear anything.”

Sasuke swallows. His mind goes back to that moment, on the ground with his back against a tree trunk. The kunai in his hand—the painful sting of the blade—

“No,” Sasuke says. “I was already out there. I was… I needed to be alone. To think.”

Without meaning to move, his hand moves to brush along the cut at his throat—shallow now, soon leaving only a thin line behind. He shivers, and Naruto’s eyes catch the movement.

“Did he do that to you?” Naruto asks, his eyebrows furrowed. “I thought he was trying to possess you or something, not kill you. Wouldn’t slitting your throat kill you?”

Sasuke lowers his hand, his fingers twitching. He sits there for a moment, making the decision. The knowledge of what he did—what almost happened—burns in his chest. He doesn’t want them to know he was that weak—that pathetic—but still, a desperate urge to say the words bubbles up in him. For once, he just wants someone to see—

“Orochimaru didn’t do it. I did.”

Back against the tree. Metal of the weapon cool against his hand. The night air sharp on his face and the crickets chirping. The world fading and blurring around him, and the sharp drag of the blade across skin.

Sasuke’s hands tighten into fists against his crossed-legs. “I tried to kill myself,” he says.

Saying the words out loud feels like a kick to his chest. It somehow makes it real. I tried to kill myself, I nearly killed myself—

It isn’t like it was the first time he felt like that—the first time he held the point of a kunai under his chin. But those were the days directly following the massacre, sitting in an empty house that was collecting cobwebs and dust. When everything was hopeless and agonizing, and he was cursing Itachi’s name for leaving him alive—

But even then, he hadn’t gone through with it. He never would have, because he had a goal.

(“If you wish to kill me one day…”)

This time was different. The feeling that came over him… if Orochimaru didn’t interfere, knocking the blade from his fingers at the last half-second… he really would be dead now, by his own hand. His teammates would have found him with his blood spilling onto the ground… his brother would have found him…

Naruto and Sakura are both silent. There’s a stillness to the room, and for a moment, Sasuke wonders if he actually said the words out loud. The air conditioning blows gently from the vent; through the door and down the hall, somebody laughs.

“What?” Sakura breathes quietly, her hushed tone barely disturbing the air. “You… you… why?”

They both look horrified. Sasuke can’t stand the looks in their eyes. He takes a shaky breath. “Orochimaru… stopped me. Knocked the kunai out of my hand…”

Naruto’s eyes are a bright blue, burning into his soul. “Sasuke,” he whispers, and Sasuke ducks his head to escape that gaze—

Suddenly, there are arms locked tightly around him. Pink hair obstructs his vision and a warm body is pressed against his. Sakura is hugging him tightly—and she’s crying, Sasuke realizes. Silently, but Sasuke can feel the tears soaking into his shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun,” she says, her voice breaking. Her hands fist into the back of his shirt. “I’m so sorry. I’m so s-sorry—that you felt like that—that you felt like doing that—”

“You don’t still, do you?” Naruto says, finally finding his tongue and searching his face imploringly. “I mean… you don’t still want to…”

Sakura leans back to also look at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Sasuke-kun? You don’t, do you?”

Sasuke swallows the lump that has risen in his throat. His chest is tight, tangled up in knots, and he shakes his head. “I… no. No.”

He doesn’t think he still feels that way. At least, not in the way he did then. Does he still want to die? He doesn’t think so—he doesn’t think he ever really did. Or else, why does the thought of it scare him so much? Why, when Orochimaru knocked the blade from his hand, was he immediately horrified when he realized what he had almost done?

“I don’t think I ever wanted to,” he admits. “Not really. I was just… I was in a bad place, and it felt like I was falling. It felt like I would never stop. I just wanted it to stop.”

Sasuke’s voice cracks. Mortified by this, he hides his face behind his hair, fighting of the burn of tears.

Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? In that moment, when he did it, he tried to dress it up as being done out of spite. Out of rage. Because he wanted to spit in Itachi’s face, wanted him to suffer and truly feel what he had done to him. And maybe that was part of the reason, but it wasn’t the heart of it.

He didn’t put that blade to his throat out of revenge. He did it because he had had enough. Because he just wanted it to stop.

And it scares him now—that he got that low. In that moment, it had felt like he was watching his own body move without actually controlling it. Like he was immersed in a fog. But he’s not in that fog now, and no matter how horrible he still feels, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be gone.

But Naruto and Sakura are staring at him like they’re afraid he’ll take a sharp implement to his wrists the moment they leave—and Sasuke doesn’t know how to explain it to them. He doesn’t know how to explain how that moment in the forest felt—that his desire to die, to stop, was a hole he had fallen into for a few short moments, not his permanent state.

“I’m not going to do it again,” he says. “It was just… it was just a moment. That’s all.”

Sakura bites her lip. “Sasuke-kun… you tried to kill yourself. That’s… you have to tell someone. You have to tell Kakashi-sensei—”

“No!” Sasuke yells, panic rising suddenly. Sakura and Naruto flinch back, and Sasuke takes a calming breath, lowering his voice. “No. It’s… I’m not going to do it again, just—just don’t tell him. Please.”

Sakura and Naruto look at him, sharing a look with each other.

“You swear?” Naruto says, his voice still shaking slightly. “You swear you won’t try—you won’t do anything like that again?”

“I swear.”

Naruto presses his mouth into a thin line. “Okay,” he says reluctantly. “Okay, we won’t tell. As long as you promise. You’re… you’re my best friend. I don't want to lose you.”

Sasuke doesn’t know what to say to that. The words you’re my best friend, too burn on his tongue, but he chokes on them like chunks of glass stuck in his throat, unable to force them out. He breaks eye contact.

And suddenly, Sakura’s arms are around him again. And a second pair of arms—Sasuke rocks backwards as Naruto throws his entire body at him. He hugs nothing like Sakura does—Sakura is gentle and careful, whereas Naruto completely engulfs.

“Naruto,” Sakura grumbles, also stuck beneath the jinchuuriki’s arms. “What are you doing?”

“I thought we were having a group hug.”

Sasuke scowls. “Both of you get off,” he snarls, attempting to throw both of them off. It’s a futile effort, and neither of them budges. “I mean it! Get off!”

“Nope,” Naruto says. “We’re hugging you. You’re being hugged. Deal with it.”

Sasuke attempts, for a few more seconds, to escape. It’s pointless. Eventually, with an annoyed grumble, he acquiesces to the embrace, allowing them to hug him. Like hell he’s going to hug them back though, and Naruto’s going to get punched for this later—

“If you ever feel like that again,” Sakura says. “Promise me you’ll tell us. Promise you’ll let us help you.”

Sasuke swallows back the knee-jerk reaction to tell them to mind their own business. He bites his tongue until it bleeds.

“…I promise,” he says finally.

Itachi has always broken his promises. Sasuke has always resolved to keep all of his. 

Chapter Text

On Saturday, at eight in the morning, Kakashi is pulled from a troubled sleep by a loud banging on the door of his apartment. At so early, Gai can be the only culprit, and Kakashi groans into his pillow, knowing the man won’t leave until he receives an answer.

Kakashi climbs from bed, trying to shake away the vestiges of sleep. After making sure he’s dressed decently, he drags his feet from his bedroom and across the small apartment, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

“What?”

Gai isn’t there—instead, he’s looking at the hallway wall. Kakashi lowers his gaze about a foot and a half, feeling a surge of surprise when he sees his student standing there instead of his rival.

“Naruto? What are you doing here?”

Naruto looks uncomfortable, shifting his feet in the hallway as he looks up at him. “Sasuke told me where your apartment was. Can we, um, talk?”

Kakashi moves aside, exhaustion still affecting his ability to think properly. Naruto steps into his apartment, looking around curiously, and Kakashi closes the door.

“What is it?” he asks, moving to sit down at the table. It’s mornings like these that he hates Gai for routinely confiscating his coffee. “It must be important if your getting up this early.”

“I don’t sleep that late.”

Kakashi knows for a fact that on days when Team Seven isn’t scheduled for training or a mission, Naruto sleeps until noon. So being awake at eight o’clock is rather astounding. Still, he lets the words go without further comment. He’s too tired right now.

He hasn’t talked to Naruto since telling him about his father a few days ago—they were sitting in an identical position then, only in Naruto’s apartment instead of Kakashi’s. Naruto commanded him to leave, his blue eyes angry and hurt.

The same as Sasuke’s. Kakashi hasn’t spoken to him in even longer.

“You spoke to Sasuke?” he asks. “How is he?”

Naruto shifts slightly at the question. “He’s… he’s fine.”

Kakashi picks up on the tone of the words—the threads of uncertainty and nerves. He narrows his eyes slightly. His Sharingan is bared, his headband left on his bedside table, which is no doubt contributing to his current level of exhaustion.

“Naruto, if something is up with Sasuke—”

“There isn’t!” the blonde says, firmer this time. “A lot happened, is all. Oh, and he’s still mad at you, if you were wondering.”

Kakashi assumed that to be the case. He sighs, closing his eyes. The chakra being diverted to his left eye is briefly cut off. He reopens his right, leaving the scarred one closed.

“And you?” he asks. “Are you still angry? I understand if you are.”

Naruto bites his lip, staring down at his hands. “I am. I’m still really upset that you kept the truth about my dad from me—especially when you guys were so close. It’s different than everyone else, because to them he was just the Hokage—but you actually knew him.”

Kakashi holds back the memories. A hand on his shoulder and ruffling his hair. After Rin’s death, arms pulling him against a solid chest. It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here.

Naruto is still speaking. Kakashi refocuses on him.

“But Sakura-chan was talking yesterday, and she said we should try to forgive you. She said you looked really bad—which I now see is true, because you look awful. Anyway, I don’t know if I can forgive you yet. But I think I want to start.”

Kakashi blinks. A part of him is surprised, but another part of him isn’t. In Kakashi’s opinion, Naruto has every right to be mad at him—but Naruto is also a very empathetic, forgiving person. He has always sought to know and understand everyone—even his enemies.

(This is a trait he has inherited from Minato—certainly not from Kushina, who could hold a grudge like no one Kakashi has ever seen.)

“If you knew my dad,” Naruto says, “then you must have known my mom, too, right? I was upset before, and I shoved you out before I could ask. You knew her, right?”

Kakashi smiles slightly beneath the mask. “I knew her well. Her name was Kushina Uzumaki—and she loved ramen almost as much as you do.”

Naruto’s blue eyes are filled with emotion. “Really? What else? Can you—can you tell me about her?”

Surprisingly, talking about them doesn’t hurt as much as Kakashi thought it would. There’s an ache, of course, there always will be—but it almost feels good to talk about them out loud, to share these precious memories with their son.

Kakashi’s eye curves into a smile. “Sure. I can tell you about both of them.”

Sasuke stares at the gates of the empty Uchiha District, a dark pit in his stomach. He feels sick looking at it, and the presence of his teammates is the only thing holding him together. Memories whisper at the corners of his mind, even now with the entire compound bathed in daylight.

“Are you sure?” Sakura asks. “You don’t have to come inside, Sasuke-kun. Naruto and I can get your stuff for you.”

It’s a tempting offer, but Sasuke locks his jaw. “No. You two don’t even know which house is mine… and I have to do this.”

He doesn’t want to do this. Just standing here on the sidewalk, he feels like his feet have become molded into the ground. But he’s tired of letting his fear control him, and he’s tired of these memories controlling him. He’s tired of seeing blood and death every time he closes his eyes, and he won’t run away while his teammates face it for him.

He won’t be a coward. He won’t let what Itachi did to him control his life.

He’s still not going to be living in the compound. He knows he won’t be able to handle that, and he isn’t stupid enough to try it. He does want to someday, because it’s his home, and he won’t let the memory of his family become a mountain of dust. One day, he wants to return there, to his house, to the place he grew up.

Maybe Itachi will even come with him. Maybe they can clean the place up—together.

(Maybe—once Sasuke decides if that’s something he wants.)

Someday. In a few months, or in another year. But not now, when looking at it makes him feel unable to breathe right.

For now, he’ll be taking Naruto up on his offer of staying with him. It’s only a temporary arrangement, until he can secure his own apartment, because Naruto’s place is unbelievably small. And if Sasuke has to live under the same roof with him for too long, he’s fairly certain he’ll end up killing him.

Naruto seems to think it’s a wonderful idea. He’s clearly short of a braincell.

The blonde knocks his shoulder against Sasuke’s. “Well, let’s go then. Or are you planning to just stand here all day?”

Sasuke scowls, knocking the boy back, though he does it harder. “Shut up. I don’t even need you here, moron. I can do this myself.”

If his two teammates can tell it’s a lie, neither of them call him out on it.

Sasuke forces his feet to move, and the three of them cross over into the abandoned district. Sasuke feels his chest constrict immediately, feels something like panic begin to claw at his throat, but he focuses on the two people walking next to him. He focuses on the warmth of the sun shining down on him.

The sun helps. There’s a reason he chose to do this now, in the middle of the afternoon. Bright daylight is illuminating everything, chasing away all the shadows. It anchors him, keeps him in the moment.

There was no sun in the Tsukuyomi. Only a blood-red moon shining down on him, and the streets and sky were dark. A landscape made up of shadows. But the compound doesn’t look like that, now.

It’s still difficult, of course. Day or night, it’s still the same place. The same streets. He can see dark stains in some spots, where the blood never washed out—the senbei shop where Uruchi-san and Teyaki-san used to work—where he came upon their bodies—

The street he ran down when fleeing from Itachi. Tripping, heart exploding in his chest, his elbows and hands smearing in blood. Tears hot on his cheeks and cold, dead eyes—

(“You’re not even worth killing.”)

Sakura reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly and drawing him back. “We’re right here, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke takes a shaky breath, shoving the images away. He focuses on the sun on his face and Sakura’s palm against his. I’m not there anymore.

He pulls his hand out of Sakura’s, the anchoring touch quickly becoming uncomfortable. She frowns slightly, but she lets go easily.

The streets are the hardest part. They’re the strongest reminder of that night, the strongest reminder of Itachi’s Tsukuyomi. And the room where his parents were murdered, but Sasuke isn’t planning on going in there.

His house will be easier. Besides that one terrible room, the walls and floors haven’t been stained with blood. His bedroom will be fine—it isn’t there that he huddled in a corner for two weeks, shaking and trembling as he watched the katana slice down over and over and over and over—

Sasuke bites the inside of his cheek. He grips the straps of his backpack tightly, hefting it up more on his back.

“That’s your clan crest, right?” Naruto asks him, gesturing toward one of the numerous fans surrounding them. “The one you wear on your back? What does it mean?”

“It’s called an uchiwa,” Sasuke explains, allowing the conversation to distract him from the streets he’s walking. “It’s a type of paper fan. It’s pronounced uchiwa, but it’s written uchiha, because the ha character takes on the wa sound.”

“Yes,” says Naruto, “but what does it mean?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes irritably. “I don’t know, Naruto! The Uchiha Clan is one of the oldest clans out there—our crest has been around for decades.” A memory pricks at his mind, something from long ago that has nearly faded from his mind, and he pulls on it, saying slowly, “Itachi told me about it once. I can’t quite remember what he said—something about the uchiwa symbolizing the wind that fans the Will of Fire. But that’s nonsense, because the Uchiha Clan existed long before Konoha did.”

The memory is hazy. He remembers sitting on a porch. He remembers his brother’s smile, blurred around the edges.

It stings to think about, and Sasuke shoves it away. Not just because it’s one of the few memories he has where Itachi looks genuinely happy, but because it’s a reminder of the way Konoha has twisted things. Pieces of his clan’s history that have nothing to do with the village, now made to fit a different narrative.

Sasuke’s hands curl into fists. He breathes out slowly, trying to let the anger go. He can’t think about it right now. He can’t deal with it.

(Konoha killed my clan—)

“Should we have brought boxes?” Sakura asks. “I feel like we should have brought boxes.”

“I don’t have a lot of stuff.”

“Yeah, but are you sure you can fit it all into one backpack?”

Sasuke doesn’t deign to respond, as they turn a corner and finally reach his house. Sasuke’s feet halt in front of it, and for a moment he stares at the doors. He hasn’t been here in a month—the grass has gotten way too long.

“It’s nice,” Sakura says.

Sasuke doesn’t answer. He walks up to the door, Naruto and Sakura following behind him, and he pulls out his keys to unlock it.

“You lock your door?” Naruto asks.

Sakura looks at the jinchuuriki incredulously. “You don’t?”

“Take your shoes off on the mat,” Sasuke tells them, stepping inside and slipping off his own shoes. He switches on the light. “Naruto, don’t break anything.”

“Hey!” Naruto yells. “Why just me?!”

The house has become dusty in the month Sasuke has been away. Despite being the only one living there, and never having any visitors, he usually attempts to keep the place in shape. He hasn’t moved anything since the massacre, and everything is still ordered the way his mother liked to keep it—except the picture frames with his brother in them, which have been taken down.

Sakura moves to examine one of the pictures still up on the mantel—one of his parents when they were younger.

“Is this your mom?” she asks. “She’s really beautiful. She looks a lot like you.”

Naruto goes to look as well. Sasuke bites his tongue to stop himself from snapping at them not to touch.

“Enough,” he says harshly. “Let’s just get my stuff and go.”

Sakura sets the frame back down carefully. Sakura and Naruto share a look they think he doesn’t see before following him up the stairs.

The three of them pack up his room quickly. Despite it not having any specific bad memories attached to it, it’s still difficult for Sasuke to be there, remembering what occurred in the room almost directly below them. His senses play tricks on him, and sometimes he thinks he can smell the metallic scent of blood. Or hear screaming. The schtck of a katana—

Sakura and Naruto are mostly quiet. Even Naruto doesn’t run his mouth, seeming to sense Sasuke’s feelings without him needing to speak. They pack his clothes and weapons and other sparse belongings up into his backpack.

At one point, Naruto is digging through his closet and steps on something. A sharp crunching is heard.

Naruto swears under his breath. He steps back, looking over to Sasuke with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to! It was an accident—”

The dark-haired boy walks over to where his teammate is standing. He looks down, and he freezes in place.

There’s a photograph on the ground—an old one, with years of dust covering it. The glass has broken, dozens of tiny cracks spiderwebbing outwards.

“I’m sorry,” Naruto says quietly.

Sasuke doesn’t respond. Slowly, he crouches down, picking up the wooden frame. He shakes the shards of glass away, revealing the picture beneath.

It’s him and Itachi. He looks around four years old, his elder brother nine or ten. He’s clinging to Itachi’s back, his small arms wrapped around Itachi’s neck. He’s grinning widely at the camera, and Itachi—Itachi is smiling too, his eyes light and happy—

Sasuke stares down at the picture—Itachi’s arms holding onto him by his legs, Sasuke’s chin digging into his shoulder—and it feels like someone has punched the air from his chest.

Sakura and Naruto both peer over to look at the picture. Sakura bites her bottom lip and doesn’t speak.

“I didn’t mean to,” Naruto says again, his voice more hushed now. “Sorry.”

Sasuke swallows. He tears his gaze away from the picture. His eyes are stinging, but it’s only because of the dust. He blinks it away. “Whatever. We’re done here, let’s go.”

Sakura and Naruto look at him for a moment longer, then turn back toward the bedroom door. On a split-second impulse, Sasuke pulls the picture from the frame and shoves it in the side-pocket of the backpack.

Sasuke hikes the backpack high on his shoulders, shutting the door behind him. They walk down the hall, and Sasuke doesn’t look at Itachi’s bedroom door as they pass it. It’s been closed over five years now.

“So about you living with me,” Naruto says. “I’m not sharing the bed, so you’re going to have to sleep on the floor—”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Fine. But you’re cleaning your entire room. I’m not sleeping on the floor if I can’t see the floor.”

“I told you, it isn’t that bad! Oh, and no waking me up before ten on the weekends! And no taking super long showers, because I don’t have a lot of hot water—also, stay away from my ramen, because if you eat any of it, I swear—”

“You mean your disgusting cup noodles? I don’t eat that crap.”

“Crap? Oh, you better take that back right now, bastard!”

“Naruto! Sasuke-kun! Can’t the two of you ever stop? How do you expect to live together if you can’t even get along?”

“It’s only for a week at most,” Sasuke says. “Just until I can get my own—”

Sasuke cuts himself off as the three of them step over the Uchiha District boundaries, back into the village street. He freezes, eyes catching a familiar figure across the street.

“Hey,” Sakura says. “Is that—”

“Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto yells, waving wildly at the silver-haired man. He turns to Sasuke, nudging him, and says in a trying-too-hard-to-be-casual voice, “Look, Sasuke! It’s Kakashi-sensei!”

Sasuke’s heart picks up as the man begins walking toward him. He pins Naruto with an angry look. “What did you do?”

“Do? Whaddaya mean?”

“Naruto.”

Naruto sighs, quickly folding beneath Sasuke’s irritated demeanor. “Alright, fine! So I might have told him we would be here… and I might have told him he should come help with the moving…”

Sasuke feels an emotion akin to betrayal spark in his chest, though not quite as sharp. “I can’t believe you!”

“You talked to him?” Sakura says with a smile. “What happened?”

Sasuke grits his teeth. “I thought you were mad at him,” he says, ignoring Sakura. “Why would you invite him? I don’t want him in my house. And we’re already done getting my stuff. What did you think we were moving, my entire house?”

Naruto glares. “Don’t yell at me, asshole! Sakura-chan was right yesterday. I’m not saying you have to forgive him, because I don’t even know what it was he was keeping from you, but you should at least talk to him!”

Sasuke’s jaw tightens, and he prepares to snap back, but suddenly Kakashi is in front of them. Sakura elbows them both sharply in the ribs, turning to face their sensei with a smile.

“Kakashi-sensei!” she says brightly. “I didn’t know you were coming! How have you been?”

Kakashi smiles beneath the mask. “I’m good. Naruto told me this morning that Sasuke was going to be staying with him for a while. I thought I might be able to help?”

“You’re late, as always,” Sasuke says coldly. “We’re already done, so we don’t need you.”

Kakashi winces, looking visibly disappointed. Naruto glares at him pointedly. Talk to him, he mouths, jerking his head toward the jounin in an obvious gesture.

Sasuke glares back. No, he mouths, much more subtly.

Naruto and Sakura trade glances with each other. They seem to communicate silently, without using words. They’ve been doing that a lot lately, and it’s annoying. When did they learn to do it? When Sasuke was in a coma?

Sakura grabs Naruto by the wrist. “Well, we have to go,” she says, a plastic smile on her face. “Naruto and I have a—we have a—”

“A date!” Naruto yells, as Sakura flounders. “We have a date! Come on, Sakura-chan! See you, Sasuke!”

Naruto drags Sakura away before Sasuke can attempt to protest, pulling her past Kakashi and across the street.

“A date?!” Sasuke hears her echo incredulously as they grow farther away.

“I panicked! And it’s not like—I’m sorry, I’m sorry! No, please don’t hit me—!”

Their voices fade as their backs disappear, mingling with all the other villagers walking the streets that afternoon. Sasuke is left alone with Kakashi, standing in front of the abandoned compound.

“Idiots,” he mutters. “They’re so obvious.”

Reluctantly, he lifts his gaze to look properly at his sensei. He has the immediate desire to drop it again. Kakashi’s visible eye seems to see him, to strip him bare.

Sasuke thinks Sakura was exaggerating a bit in the hospital when she said that Kakashi looked awful. But Sasuke will admit that he looks a bit worse for wear; more tired, and the usual slump to his shoulders his more pronounced.

Sasuke feels his anger rise up again, seeing him. But he hasn’t seen him since he banished him from his hospital room, and there’s a sliver of guilt there as well. Naruto and Sakura are both right—even if he can’t forgive him, he can’t just keep avoiding him either.

“I guess we should talk,” Sasuke says, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly.

“I would like that,” Kakashi says. “If you’re open to it.”

Sasuke nods. The two of them fall into step together, beginning to walk. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but silence between them. He can feel Kakashi’s gaze on him; he stares straight ahead, not knowing what to say.

“Sasuke, I’m sorry,” Kakashi says finally. “I shouldn’t have kept the truth about the massacre from you. I know that you feel betrayed—”

“Why did you?” Sasuke asks abruptly, cutting the man off. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kakashi sighs. “There were… reasons. The top of which being that I was ordered—”

“Orders,” Sasuke says sharply, scoffing. “I’m sick to death of Konoha’s orders. Who are they to dictate what’s right and wrong? To decide what I’m allowed to know about my own family?”

Sasuke feels his ire rise again rapidly, swirling in his chest, and his nails bite into the straps around his shoulders. It seems like everyone is manipulating him these days—whether that’s controlling the information he receives or attempting to make his decisions for him. The Third Hokage kept the truth from him about his family—let him go on wanting to kill his brother. Orochimaru was trying to manipulate him, to possess his power for himself. Kakashi kept silent, knowing how Sasuke might react.

And Itachi… Itachi is the worst of them all. His brother does love him, Sasuke is sure of that now. But he plotted Sasuke’s entire life out for him, not a hint of care as to what Sasuke himself would want.

“I’m so sick of everyone trying to control me.”

Kakashi compresses his lips at the words, looking down briefly. Sasuke expects a lecture—he isn’t stupid, he knows he’s being watched closely. Monitored for any signs of disloyalty. And Kakashi is nothing if not a loyal shinobi—just like Itachi is.

But Kakashi surprises him. “You’re right,” he says. “You have a right to certain information. You have a right to know it and decide for yourself how you’re going to react, without someone else making that choice for you.”

Sasuke looks at him in surprise. “Then why did you keep it from me?”

Kakashi exhales slowly, looking forward. “When you were in your coma,” he says slowly. “When you were trapped in your brother’s genjutsu… I went into your head and attempted to pull you out. Do you remember?”

Sasuke thinks back—but is forced to immediately pull away, as the memories threaten to overwhelm him. He shakes his head. The only thing he can remember is blood and screaming and Itachi’s cold voice.

“Well, I was there. For just a moment. And I saw you… I saw you curled up in a corner on that floor… shaking and covering your ears…” Kakashi’s jaw tightens. “I saw you. I couldn’t get out of my head how fragile you looked. And when Tsunade told me the truth… I remembered again. I imagined telling you… but you already seemed so broken, and all could think about was how the knowledge would shatter you.”

Sasuke swallows, hearing the roughly spoken words. He looks away, unable to look at his sensei as they walk. It burns through him, the realization that Kakashi saw him like that. At his lowest moment, nothing more than a helpless child.

“I thought I was protecting you,” Kakashi says. “But Itachi thought the same thing, and look how that turned out.”

Sasuke bites his lip. The cut at his throat tingles, and Sasuke wonders how Kakashi would feel if he knew about it. If he knew keeping this secret almost resulted in Sasuke not standing next to him. He was trying to stop Sasuke from breaking… but it was the not knowing that almost succeeded in doing that exact thing.

Sasuke looks at Kakashi, and suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of doing that. He truly does look horribly, terribly guilty—and how can Sasuke burden him with the knowledge of what his actions nearly caused?

And so, Sasuke makes a decision. Because looking into Kakashi’s eyes, he sees something that’s very familiar to him. Something that he’s also seen in his own eyes.

“I understand,” he says. “I don’t forgive you, but I understand.”

Kakashi stops walking, turning to look at him. There’s a moment of silence, where he eyes Sasuke uncertainly, as if unsure what to do. Then, he places a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder, pulling him forward slightly so he falls against his chest.

Sasuke’s eyes widen in shock, and he isn’t sure what to do. It isn’t at all like the way Naruto and Sakura embraced him yesterday—it can hardly even be called a hug, just an arm thrown lightly around him, his forehead pressing against Kakashi’s vest. It’s stilted and awkward, and it’s over before Sasuke can even process it, Kakashi stepping quickly back out of his space.

Kakashi clears his throat awkwardly. “Right. Um. Just know that, uh, I’m here for you. For whatever you need.”

His hand hovers above Sasuke’s shoulder, falling there for a moment before dropping back down. Sasuke, still processing the horribly inexperienced attempt at affection, just nods.

“…Thank you.”

It isn’t all okay, of course. In fact, most of everything still isn’t okay at all. He’s still angry and hurt and betrayed, and that hasn’t gone away. He still doesn’t know how he feels about Konoha, about the hitai-ate on his forehead that seems to burn against his skin. He doesn’t know where he and Itachi stand, if they’ll ever stand anywhere, if Sasuke will ever be able to look at him without remembering everything he put him through.

He still closes his eyes and sees visions of death. He still smells blood in the air, still hears the screams.

But Kakashi holds his hand out, offering to take the heavy backpack from his shoulders. And after a moment of contemplation, Sasuke lets him. The two of them are walking again, in the direction of Naruto’s apartment, and Sasuke asks about training. Kakashi responds, and it almost feels normal.

Things aren’t alright. But for the first time in over five years, Sasuke feels like maybe they don’t have to be. Maybe that’s okay.

Three months later, Obito Uchiha stands alone on the parapet of the Akatsuki’s tower. He stares out at Amegakure’s horizon as the sun slowly disappears from view, resting the drink in his hand on the edge of the balcony.

Damn that Itachi Uchiha, he thinks, raising the glass to sip at the amber liquid.

The alcohol burns pleasantly as it goes down his throat. His mask is resting on the balcony’s edge next to his right hand. If he had normal skin and muscles on that side of his body, then his knuckles would have been showing bone.

Taking Itachi into the Akatsuki was a risk. Obito had known that from the start. His loyalty to Konoha was unshakable, and his mind refused to be poisoned by the Akatsuki’s ideals. Still, he was a threat that was safer to have next to them instead of actively working against them.

Except now, the exact thing that Obito feared would happen has. The boy’s love for his brother has caused him to break from his plans—and now he is back in Konoha’s hands, no doubt giving them every scrap of intelligence he has.

Kisame claims to have killed him. Obito doesn’t believe him for a second.

Killed? Not Itachi. Obito knows him, and he would never be so careless. When Itachi Uchiha dies, it will be because he plans to, and not a moment before.

The only possible good thing about Itachi’s defection is that Obito doesn’t have to worry about keeping his promise anymore. The Akatsuki is now free to attack the Leaf Village and go after the Nine-Tails—except that it’s too soon and they aren’t ready. Launching an assault on Konoha now, when they are still recovering from the Sand’s invasion, would be smart, but it also draws too much attention. Attention they aren’t ready for.

The Akatsuki is a secret organization. They aren’t at the correct stage in their plans where they can afford being at the forefront of things—the five nations seeing them as a proper threat. But now, with Itachi spilling all their plans, they can’t afford to wait either. The longer they wait to move, the more time Konoha will have to prepare.

Obito will have to accelerate the plan. But Konoha will retaliate—backed by the other hidden villages. One tailed beast, hosted in the body of a small child, will not be enough power to hold them at bay.

They will need to start collecting the Tailed Beasts. The Ichibi is in Suna, and their village is a mess after their failed takeover. Currently leaderless. He will have Nagato send Sasori and Deidara—it should be easy for them to—

Obito freezes the moment he senses a chakra approaching him—and not one he recognizes. He sets his drink back down on the ledge, returning his mask to his face and turning around.

“Who’s there?”

A figure steps further into the room. Obito remains on the open balcony, watching them. They are slight in stature, their face concealed by a dark hood.

“Your subordinate let me in,” the figure says. The voice is male. “I told them I wished to speak to the leader of the Akatsuki.”

Obito scowls beneath the mask. Which one of those idiots let this stranger just stroll into their headquarters? Most likely Hidan, that damn lunatic—

“You’re not welcome here,” Obito says. “I don’t know how you came to be here, or why they would let you in, but I’m not—”

“I told them I wished to speak to their true leader.”

Obito stills. Slowly, he focuses on the man, now giving him his full attention. “Did you now?”

The man steps forward further, more into the light. He throws back his hood, revealing pale hair. His skin is pasty and scaly, and one of his eyes—

Obito’s face twists at the sight of familiar golden eyes, when he recognizes the despicable chakra of that traitorous snake. “Orochimaru.”

“He was my master, yes,” the young man replies. “But he is no more. I assure you, I come to you now not of his will, but of my own.”

It takes Obito a moment to place the name. “Kabuto Yakushi… Sasori’s informant.”

Kabuto inclines his head. He has clearly been busy since the months since his master’s demise; even without the physical alterations, his entire essence reeks of Orochimaru. It’s unnatural and sickening.

“Your own will, are you?” Obito echoes. “Given your appearance, I doubt that very much. Well then, Kabuto Yakushi. What exactly is it that you think I can do for you?”

“You’ve got it wrong,” Kabuto says. His lips stretch into a smile. “It’s not what you can do for me. It’s what I can do for you… Obito Uchiha.”