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The clock strikes one and Sasuke hauls his bag onto his shoulder. There is a heaviness to the action, as if his shoulder knows, too, the information he has yet to disclose to anyone.
Kakashi's wire wrapped taut around his torso, his leg held at the mercy of a Sound Four hand, the rustle of a leaf losing a battle with the wind replay over and over and over and over and he can't stop it. Ultimately, it's evident what the final choice is, has to be, but even as he smooths a hand over his bed covers one last time, he wars with himself.
Stupid Naruto, Sakura, Kakashi, He spits at them, It's all your fault.
It's their fault he's still here in Konoha. It's their fault that Sasuke's gotten so weak -- he's sure it's from having to worry about another person's welfare for the first time. It's their fault he even has to contemplate whether or not he actually wants to leave the village and kill his brother, even though he knows damn well what the obvious and only choice is.
But most of all, it's his fault for letting them drag him down, distract him. But every time their carefree grins appear in his head, he feels himself give in a little.
And so Uchiha Sasuke, the emotionless number one rookie - the ice-cold genin whose only facial expression anyone's seen has been a cool, superior glance - has always tried to suppress this superficial attachment to this superficial village, but it never works. It never works.
A sigh leaves his mouth and he double checks his drawers, his bed, his chair (buying time, his mind tells him) for anything he may have overlooked and has not been packed in his backpack yet. As he's rummaging through his cupboard, the only splash of colour in his room catches his eye.
His feet take unbidden steps to his bookshelf and while he knows with every fibre of his soul that this is a bad idea, he lets his gaze sweep over the four figures in the photo. Not one inch of their expressions have shifted over the course of a year, petty scowls and abashed smiles frozen forever on the glossy print. He wonders what they look like now, asleep and unaware under thick covers, the crescent autumn moon casting a silver light across their faces.
Sasuke's stared at this photo frame about a hundred and forty different times, but this is the first time he's looked at it knowing he won't see it again for at least another few years. It's more painful than he anticipated.
His eyes scan over the blonde, the grey, the black; the pink catches his eye like it always does. It always does and he hates it.
Sasuke feels a familiar twist in his chest and his fingers lash out, knocking the frame over. The clang of the photo frame hitting the shelf top echoes through his room, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
It's no use doing these things, feeling these things, but he can't stop it and really the only thing he's supposed to be feeling is hatred, but he just can't focus on it now and perhaps going to Orochimaru will distract him from these things and hatred hatred hatred focus on the hatred.
Itachi's voice chants this with him, the mantra spilling out of his lips, and fuck, it hurts to be saying this because only the street echoes this back to him -- no one will hear because he's utterly alone in this district and in this world.
And it's all because of his brother. Rage pools in his gut at the memory of Itachi slamming him against the wall, dismissing him for Naruto. For fucking Naruto. Naruto the dead last, the class clown, the nobody.
And how Sakura smiled at Naruto when she forced him to admit Naruto's superiority aloud not once, but twice and God, it just makes him so angry.
Good. Anger is good.
He sends a glare at the clock again and hastily grabs the handle of the door to his room, the cool metal sending goosebumps up his arm. The door swings open and he steps into the dark hallway. Sasuke refuses to look back.
His feet carry him out of the house, past uncle Teyaki's dusty and rusted senbei shop (dried flecks of blood still lingering in the edges and cracks), and past the entrance of the Uchiha District (He remembers a dead cousin slung over the stone). His mind begins to wander, his clenched, blood-drained fist loosening a little.
Sasuke tries to think of a future without Orochimaru, without Itachi, without revenge. Everyone is happy there, but this is a dream he knows will never come true. In order for his family to pass on peacefully, the person responsible for their deaths must be accounted for. He would murder Itachi a thousand times if he could, in retribution for every single Uchiha death he caused, present and future.
What would it be like if he stayed in the village? If he perhaps trained under Kakashi? If he didn't have the curse mark?
Sasuke raises a hand to his shoulder and feels a jeering tingle in return.
You would never be able to harness this power, it seems to say, with all greasiness of Orochimaru's voice. It feels like snakes in his insides.
That's right. He's leaving because he needs more power to kill Itachi. The curse mark is an opportunity he can't afford to waste.
----
Sasuke isn't really sure just how much time has passed when he glances up and a pair of concerned green eyes meets his.
Sakura is standing in front of the exit from the village. The gates are wide open, the area deceptively welcoming. However, Sasuke knows about the invisible barrier that stretches around the circumference of the entire village.
The sight is not particularly shocking; Sakura has always taken to extreme measures to ensure his safety and comfort.
Why? Sasuke asks her silently, face grave, as he's done tens of times before, Why do you do this? What's in it for you?
Words spill out of his mouth of their own accord. "Why are you hanging around here in the middle of the night?"
Why do you bother with me? his mind echoes.
The sentence sound more like a statement than a question and cuts through the heavy silence like a knife.
He does't really expect her to answer. He just stares at the ground, mind unusually blank. He studies the cracks in the ground and is distantly surprised when he notices that Sakura is standing in the middle of three branches that split into smaller ones and spread right to the edges of the footpath. It looks like broken glass.
Her voice interrupts his thoughts. "I knew you'd come this way if you were to leave, so I just waited here."
Sasuke jumps when she replies, but he's careful to mask it.
He shifts his gaze from the ground and focuses on her mouth because he doesn't want to look at her eyes. Her lips are a little dry and tremble a bit.
He searches for a good response. "...just get out of here and go back to bed."
When Sakura doesn't move or speak, Sasuke begins to slowly trudge past her. The scrape of his footsteps are loud against the silence of midnight and he makes it three metres in front of her when she finally speaks.
She asks with a shaking voice him why he never tells her anything and brings up the day they were made genin. (a long forgotten day, lost in the rage of revenge, failure, and hope) She confesses that she enjoyed their missions together. (he recalls each of them as an internal struggle between his old family and his new one) She tells him she knows about his past and his desire for revenge. (she doesn't understand anything.) She says she understands his loneliness with all the desperation he doesn't feel. (she can't understand.)
She cries, weeps, sobs. She tells him she loves him with all her heart. Sasuke can't hold back a minute flinch at the raw emotion in her voice but doesn't turn around once.
"If you were to stay here, with me, you won't regret anything... because—because everyday we'll do something fun and we'll be happy! I swear!" she yells, tears seeping, one by one, into the fabric of her dress. "I would do anything for you! So, please... just stay with me!"
"I... I'll even help you with your revenge... I don't know what I could do, but I'll try my best to do something... so please, stay with me... or..." she gulps, "take me with you if you can't stay..."
Sasuke inhales slowly. She is not like him, she has not sworn to a life of revenge. He can't imagine how she'd deal with everything -- even now, she is still kind and pure-hearted. Her almost careless offer to help him reflects that.
He knows with absolute certainty that he can't involve her. Orochimaru would break her; Itachi would destroy her.
He stands there unmoving, each rhythmic sniff and splash of liquid against fabric a scream in his head. It simultaneously soothes and rips his mind apart, tearing at the seams of his poorly stitched resolve. He can't deal with this, not now.
An unbidden and sudden memory ripples through his head.
He narrows his eyes and turns around. Sakura's face is twisted in shock and worry and her fists are pressed against her chest.
"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" she says tentatively, bemusedly, and it just makes him angrier.
Her blow had hit low. She'd said everything with a confident, assured tone, as if she hadn't been insulting him too.
The word echoes in his mind. Selfish. He'd never thought Naruto acted selfishly. Sure, at times he's an absolute moron Sasuke can't wait to get away from; the idiot gives him hives. But he's seen the loneliness he shields with loud, reckless acts. Sasuke can, surprisingly enough, empathise. After all, he is the sole survivor of a clan massacre. He knows what it feels like to be truly alone.
Sakura looks innocent and untainted and like she's unaware of the dangers of a shinobi career. Like she still has a childish and idealistic view of the world.
Sasuke shoots a glare at her: her naivete, her superficiality. "You're annoying."
She stares back at him with wide eyes, a trembling mouth. He focuses on her for a second, eyes narrowing, and turns to the footpath. Walks away.
Sasuke's face twists into a bittersweet smirk as he turns around.
Sakura's face is wet with tears, a few strands of pink in her mouth. Her eyelids, nose, and cheeks swollen with red. Her face is a complete, utter mess and looks so much like it did at the Wave mission, he nearly physically jolts.
And when he says, "You really still are annoying," he finally gets what she was talking about.
"The day we made genin... you were so mad at me..."
He fights the urge to avert his gaze as her eyes widen and she sobs, a fresh set of tears rolling down her cheeks. His face is a hundred levels calmer than he feels.
Sasuke turns away from her and begins to walk away from her and the village. He makes it about two heavy, decisive steps before he hears her frantic shriek of don't leave! and halts, somewhat exasperated.
"If you do, I'll scream!"
Her voice cracks on the last syllable, her panicked breath raspy. She sounds so frantic and hoarse that Sasuke reacts on reflex. His hands form the tiger hand sign and he appears right behind her.
Sasuke's hands shake as he stares at her frazzled, untidy hair. It takes a shocking amount of effort to resist the inexplicable urge to wrap his arms around her body and never let go; he so desperately needs comfort.
But he pulls himself together with slightly pursed lips -- this is why he's leaving. If he gives in to these superficial feelings, he'll never achieve his revenge. He has to go before it's too late.
Slowly, he holds trembling fingers into rabbit.
"Sakura," he breathes, "thank you."
There is a sharp intake of breath and another sob, and he swiftly knocks her out with a tap to her neck and an electric pulse to a pressure point. She slumps forward; his hand reaches out to catch her by her shoulder.
Sasuke inhales and exhales and closes his eyes. He allows his muscles to relax in a moment of quiet resignation, his guard to lift for a split second. Then he opens them again with a determined frown.
He makes his way around Sakura, keeping her steady, and brings an arm around her back and another one under her knees. He hoists her up onto the crooks of his elbows.
She's surprisingly light, despite how her elbow seemed to crush his ribs when he regained consciousness at Wave. He imagines, eyes drifting off into the distance, how easy it would be to take off running, sprinting all the way to Sound with her in his arms. Then he regains his senses and shakes his head. He can't afford to dwell on this now, especially since almost everything has already been painstakingly prepared.
Sasuke gently lowers her to the bench, onto her side. But when he stands, he notices that her left arm is trapped under her body.
For a second, he contemplates just taking off, ignoring how her arm's circulation will almost certainly be cut off by morning. He takes a few experimental steps away from her and sighs when his mind nags at him to just adjust her position, dammit!
Sasuke stalks back with a mild scowl and kneels down to manoeuvre her arm under her torso and out the other side, but when he lets go, her body tilts off the edge of the seat. He quickly catches her and pushes her back up.
She looks so small, so vulnerable, that for a split second Sasuke wants stay here with her and never contemplate leaving again. He imagines a future where he gives up his revenge, where he gives in to her pleads, where he carries her back home and stays with her until morning. A future where team 7 never comes apart.
But that means a future where Itachi is still alive.
I need to fulfil my goal. I can't let him roam around the earth anymore. Sakura's fine, Naruto's fine, I'm fine. I can't think about what-ifs anymore. I just need to kill Itachi.
I just need to kill Itachi.
Sasuke eventually tears his eyes away from her and ignores the ache in his chest when he finally takes a decisive leap into the trees.