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Sasuke didn't think he was a prodigy. Of course, he would never tell others that— or anything for that matter— telling people about your feelings was just something ninja do not do. Being a genin-in-the-making solidifies this code; his goal triples it, making it law in his conscience. Sasuke works hard. Everyday he wakes up early, eats breakfast, trains, goes to the academy (to train even more), eats dinner, trains; rinse and repeat. Sasuke is not a prodigy, Sasuke is an above average shinobi with a fixed determination.
Prodigies don't have to work hard to achieve greatness in the ninja world, they already have greatness handed to then on a silver platter at birth. People like The Copy Ninja, who graduated the academy at what—five or something? People like that don't train as hard as him. What takes him weeks would take prodigies hours.
People like Itachi, prodigies only like him.
It always came back to him, no matter how hard Sasuke tried to think of something else, it was always Itachi. Itachi, the prodigy; Itachi, the kid who could do anything involving anything that ended in 'jutsu' just by looking at it.
Itachi, the brother he loved, who took everything to test himself, to test Sasuke's sanity.
When he trained and did anything most would consider extremely difficult, there was no 'hurray', there was no 'I did well today'. All he could think was 'Itachi could do it better', because while Sasuke could do the difficult well, Itachi could do the impossible so, so much better.
It was difficult.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much effort and pain he put into his work—into his life—it was never enough (it would never be enough, not until he was deaddeaddead.) he was never enough, since birth it has been this way. The sloppy seconds, the okay brother. He couldn't afford to be just okay, he had to be exceptional, he had to be amazing.
It was frustrating, it made him angry, very angry.
Migraines were constant, pillows were screamed into, plates were broken (he was broken), and lips were gnawed at. Scabs were everywhere, and some (most) were not from training. Sasuke can't count the amount of times he's hurt himself in anger; the tiny scars too many, the scabs and headaches hurt too much to think about. He wasn't suicidal—his goal was too important to give up—but his anger crippled him physically and mentally just as much, but there was too much to do, and so little time. Worry later, work now, work harder, work faster, be better or die like them, like the clan.
Death was a good motivator, failure wasn't an option, and being less than was mentally shattering. He continued though, he pushed and punched, because others wouldn't—couldn't, Itachi killed them before they ever tried.
He never even realized he passed out until he woke up in the hospital.
No one visited, no cards, or 'get well soon' balloons. Who would he even get them from? Fan girls? Ew, no. The Hokage? Didn't care enough. Then again, it wasn't surprising, or needed.
He stayed for a week. More for the sake of the civilian nurses than his own. It was boring, and frustrating. He didn't eat much—he slapped fruit cups away in a fit of rage too many times to get the chance, and sleep was hard; but he had time to think, to plan.
On the second day he had a visitor— a non-human visitor.
A nurse had just left him to his own devices after he had slapped his fruit cup again, and scratched her arm (not hard enough to scar, just enough to draw blood and scare away), he was counting back from one hundred when he saw him.
An orange tabby cat with a cauliflower ear staring at his fallen dinner: Mackerel.
It was annoying, it angered him, he knew it was irrational, but getting noticed by those who didn't matter did that. Stop paying attention, look away, be like the others.
At first, he just closed his eyes and continued counting, because he couldn't deal with anymore violence when he was already so angry, so tired.
Until it meowed.
He stopped—the counting at least—and stared back. It continued to meow, and scratch the window (how did it even get up there? It's the third floor?!) he continued to stare. It wanted to come in, probably just for the fish, Sasuke wasn't having it. He threw the Mackerel at the window. The cat ran away, and that was that.
Sasuke did not think much of it at the time, it was just an annoying cat after all. A one time coincidence, he scared it off, it would not come back. Fear would keep it away (like it did him), he spent the rest of the night brooding, planning his training for when he would get dismissed. Maybe he shouldn't work so hard anymore? 'No. This is for my future, for my goal, for when I kill Ita—'
"Meow."
It came back, this was a very determined (or stupid) cat. Apparently getting fish thrown at you violently wasn't good enough to keep you away. Throwing something bigger would definitely do the trick this time around. He threw the tray that once held the Mackerel; like the time before, the cauliflower-eared fiend fled once again. It did not show up again for the rest of the night.
On the third day, Sasuke sat and thought. The thought about the things being taught at the academy that day he was missing, he thought about nauseating fruit cups, and he thought about training. He was feeling antsy. They don't allow kunai or shuriken at the hospital, so target practice was a no-go. He had to make due with chewing on his bottom lip— no doubt opening a scab or two. In the long run though, better an open scab wound than nubby finger nails—it messes up his grip, and finger nails take longer to grow back than a healing scab.
Just as he could taste the blood from under his lower lip he heard it:
Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!
The orange cat continuously scratched at his window, with what appeared to be an annoyed expression on it's fat, fuzzy face. No doubt it remembered the night prior. This time it came back with a vengeance, and maybe (definitely) an empty stomach.
The original plan was to throw something at it again, but this time Sasuke had nothing to scare it with, unless he was willing to get up and bang at the window himself, or glare at it until it went away. He went with the former, he didn't have the patience for annoyances with already small self control over anger.
He stood up to the window to go show that stupid cat once and for all not to mess with hi—
CRASH!
He fell on the ground, taking the bedside foldable table with him. His legs hurt, the kind of hurt that made civilians cry. It was as if he banged every inch of his legs into the corner of the sharpest counter-table known to man. Maybe he should be more aware of his limit while training. He grimaced.
The cat had what appeared to have a smug expression on it's face, Sasuke was not amused.
The door slams open, it's a nurse. She is also not amused. She looks like she just ran a marathon and her heart is about to give out. Huffing and puffing. Her boring brown hair stuck to her face like she just took a shower. She must've run too fast, too far. Stupid nurses.
"Are—huff—you—puff—okay?"
Raised eyebrow, monotone voice (unimpressed, just like his father, just like Itachi) "Uh, yeah? It was just a fall."
Relief crosses her face. (the wrinkles are still there, she's stressed. Mom was prettier. Mom was calmer. Mom was better) "Oh thank God! I thought it was something serious! I thought that you— oh! Never mind what I thought, why were you out of bed?! You're legs haven't healed yet!"
It was a fall, not a suicide attempt, not an act of war. It wasn't a big deal, she was just overreacting (they all were) she should stop caring, Sasuke has (no he hasn't, he never will) it wasn't her problem, or her business, she should go away (he misses them, and their gone, why did he do it?).
His face feels hot, his body numb, the nurse looks worried, everyone is worried; the cat was gone, they're gone, he's alone, he'll always be alonealonealone—
"O-oh I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, please stop crying"—arms around him, he doesn't want her, he wants his mom—"forgive me, forgive me." She cries, she begs, he won't grant her the wish. He can't, even if he wants to.
It took twenty minutes to stop his crying, it took three years to crash and burn. He has stopped computing, but the world still moves; and Itachi gets farther—yet closer at the same time.
It's embarrassing, she smells like sweat, and the room became much smaller— much too uncomfortable. She opens the window and left after he calmed down, (it made no sense, wasn't he always calm?) she tells him to call her if he needed anything. He won't, he also doesn't know her name.
"Meow."
Sasuke doesn't have the energy to kick the cat as it crawls onto his bed. He's too emotionally exhausted, he's ten years old and too tired, too sad to do anything but train and get angry. The nurse should've kept the window closed.
The cat looks at him, he looks at the cat. He thought it left. Why didn't it?
Slowly but surely, the cat crawls onto his lap and lies down. It doesn't mention his tears, he doesn't do anything. Slowly but surely, Sasuke apathetically runs his hands through it's knotted, orange-cream coat. Slowly but surely, the cat falls asleep purring, and Sasuke feels lighter.
Maybe it would be nice for someone to pay attention?
The cat visits every day until Sasuke finally gets let out, he finds the cat and names it Mikan— it has the coat like a mandarin orange. The name sounds feminine, but Mikan doesn't care, so he doesn't either.
He buys cat toys, a cat bed, collars, and takes him to the vet. His house smells like cat nip, his fridge is stacked with milk and Mackerel; and the compound is full of scratching posts and cat condos. Mikan isn't a house cat, so while Sasuke is at the academy Mikan plays in the compound. Soon enough, the deserted Uchiha compound becomes a cat heaven, and Sasuke feels a bit less empty.
Sasuke notices that he doesn't train as much anymore, Mikan and the others take up a lot of his time. He doesn't think he minds it though, he washed strays and feeds them; they're soft, and they like him. It feels nice to be noticed— not for his accomplishments or good looks, but for kindness. For once someone (or someones) rely on him than the other way around. He still has nightmares— they'll never go away, but at least Mikan can curl up with him when he wakes up scared. He isn't alone.
The academy notices too. Sasuke—though still reserved—doesn't seem as unapproachable as before, he's calmer, less arrogant. Cats have that aura, and taking care of them is humbling. They don't know that though.
"Hey asshole, I'm going to beat you today! Just you wait!"
Naruto Uzumaki is annoying, and Sasuke doesn't like being called an asshole, but anger isn't something he'll let him see. After all, Mikan gets agitated when Sasuke's angry, and Mikan is a pretty chill cat.
"I doubt it, maybe next week though."
Surprise crosses Naruto's face—no the whole class's faces, Iruka included.
Usually, Sasuke would say something like "you'll never beat me" or "I'd like to see you try dead last" never anything encouraging, any certainty never anything that could even hint to a defeat. Ever.
After the shock wore out, Naruto's face of disbelief morphed into one of anger. "Don't underestimate me damn it! I'm gonna' beat the crap outta' you! Believe it!"
Sasuke shrugged, damn that kid was annoying. "You don't have to be so rude, I said you could maybe beat me next week. You need to be more optimistic, I'm not always mean." Ironic coming from him, but whatever.
Iruka made a choking sound, "yes, well um—Sasuke, Naruto, get your stances ready and go when I say the word."
Like always, Sasuke did win, it wasn't even a fair fight, but after making the Seal Of Reconciliation Sasuke did tell him he did well, and that he hoped he'd be even better next time. Naruto grinned and told him he'd definitely kick his ass, and that was that.
Iruka called Sasuke after class was over, puzzled, dumbfounded, and a little hopeful.
"So, Sasuke...you seem... happier. Has anything happened recently?" Iruka sounded chipper—like usual—but with a bit of caution in his voice. Sasuke being happy was a good thing, but he never thought he'd see the day. Well, unless of course Itachi was dead; but that was highly unlikely.
Sasuke stared Iruka down from his desk, "yeah, I got a cat."
"...what."
Sasuke had the audacity to look a little embarrassed, embarrassed! Iruka thought that either the world was ending, or he was the victim of some cruel, sick joke.
"A cat, Iruka-sensei. His name is Mikan and I like him."
And wasn't that just precious. Really, Iruka failed to compute. What universe he in again, and how does he get out?
"I—um—tha—that's g-great Sasuke! What made you get him?" Surely this was a dream. A very surreal dream.
Sasuke shrugged his shoulders, "we just get each other I guess."
A cat, Sasuke Uchiha is on the same wavelength as a fucking cat. Iruka had enough for the day, "well... good luck with that. You're excused."
Sasuke smiled at Iruka. It was small, but it was definitely there, "thank you, Iruka-sensei. Have a good weekend."
Iruka needed a drink. Some days he wished he died in the Nine-Tails attack, today was one of those days.