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“Nii-san?”
Itachi closes his eyes, not even bothering to look as he throws his kunai. “Yes, Sasuke?”
Thunk. Dead center, like always.
Sasuke has forgotten to say “wow” at this point. Instead he takes a moment to quietly ogle at his brother’s abilities and pretends to be nonchalant.
“What...what’s your favorite color?” he manages, voice small.
Itachi pulls the kunai out and glances at his brother before sitting down. “My favorite color, hmm?”
“Yeah.”
“Foolish little brother.” Itachi laughs softly, and Sasuke looks down, more ashamed than he wants to admit. “What makes you ask that?”
Sasuke fidgets with the bottom of his shirt. “Well,” he mumbles. “I...some of the other kids were asking each other and I guess I was just kind of curious....”
To his surprise, Itachi does not dismiss him outright, examining his kunai idly as he answers. “Hm. I suppose it would be white.”
“White?” Sasuke asks, wrinkling his nose. He’s never liked white. It’s too plain and uninteresting. “Why would you choose a color like that, Nii-san?”
“Colors have meaning, Sasuke,” Itachi explains. “One day you will understand what makes white special to me.”
“You never make any sense,” Sasuke pouts. “Why can’t you just tell me now?”
Itachi smirks slightly, eyes softening. “You won’t be able to grasp exactly what I mean until you’re older...however....” He takes out a cloth, cleaning the kunai in his lap and turning it over in his hands. “White is pristine; pure. It symbolizes newness and untouched potential.” He shifts the tool up and down, the polished metal catching in the light as he gazes at his reflection sadly. “It has not yet been dirtied by the cruelty of this world...but rather, it is innocent.”
That’s a weird reason to like a color, Sasuke thinks, but he doesn’t voice it because can tell from the way Itachi spoke that this is very important to him.
He looks up at his brother, and realizes that Itachi is staring at him, something dark in his eyes. Sasuke doesn’t like it.
Suddenly Itachi’s expression changes and he smiles, but it’s not quite right. “So, Sasuke...aren’t you going to tell me what your favorite color is?”
“Oh.” Sasuke perks up, excited by the unexpected attention. “Mine’s red. Like tomatoes...and our clan crest!” Then he realizes how childish he sounds and scowls in an attempt to redeem himself. “But it’s not like it matters.”
It does.
Sasuke is six, and red is tomatoes and clan pride and so bright that you have acknowledge it.
That changes.
...
Sasuke doesn’t go in that room anymore.
The pain is still so raw. But today is special, and if he doesn’t go in there now, he’ll only prolong his suffering.
It’s better to just get this over with.
Thump.
He hates slipping off his shoes and entering the empty house.
Tap...tap.
He hates the way he trembles when he goes down the hall and turns the corner.
Creak.
He hates pushing the heavy, heavy door open with his little hand.
As he walks in, he tries to pay attention to the dust that covers everything and the musty smell. Maybe the dim, gloomy lighting or the bareness. But his eyes go straight to the floor the moment he steps in there.
Because what he hates most of all, are the bloodstains.
Nothing could wash them out. The ANBU had insisted that they were gone...that they had cleaned everything up and no one could see them now, but they were still there.
Why couldn’t anyone else seem to understand that they would never go away?
Sasuke’s knees buckle. He falls right next to the stains.
Kaa-san....
Tou-san....
Why did he have to kill you and not me?
There’s no answer to his questions. Just the silence, because the house is empty and it will never be filled again.
“Why, Itachi?” he asks aloud, clenching his fists despite how the rest of him violently quivers. “All of this...so you could measure your abilities?”
His shoulders start to shake.
“Did the clan never mean anything to you? Did our parents ever mean anything to you?!” He clenches his teeth. “Did...did I…ever mean anything to you...?”
He feels sick. There’s a hole in his chest and it aches.
He would do anything to see his mother’s kind smile again, to be held in her arms just one more time...to hear his father say “that’s my boy” and then give him that rare, soft look of pride. Deep down, all he wants is to be loved again.
But they’re gone and he was too weak to save them.
He stares vacantly at the dark red spots on the wood. Silent tears drip off his chin. He has to remind himself that it’s alright just this once. He can be weak today.
Tomorrow, he promises; tomorrow he’ll be the strong avenger his clan needs him to be...and become powerful enough to destroy Itachi.
For hours he lies there, sobbing into the floorboards, no one around to hear his cries. The conversation he’d had with his brother is the farthest thing from his mind right now, but the red on the floor makes him want to puke.
Sasuke is eleven, and red is Mangyekyou Sharingans and blood stains on moonlit nights and hate.
But really, it’s the only thing that gives him purpose.
...
Waves crash onto the shore. The sound of the ocean is pleasant, almost soothing, but it cannot calm the tumult of grief that swirls in Sasuke’s chest.
This whole time, it was a dream.
Was the dream better than this nightmare of a reality?
He can’t help but wonder. Right now, as he gazes across the horizon, he feels more cathartic than anything...his heart is empty and tired and finished with being so broken.
Karin, Juugo, and Suigetsu left him here a long time ago, sitting on a rock by himself. It’s for the better. He’d rather be alone right now anyway.
Positioning his arm across his knees, he studies the clouds that float in the deep orange sky. The sinking sun makes the water look yellow and causes the surface to sparkle like gold. But the clouds are still a pearly white.
It…reminds him of something. He can’t figure out what.
Maybe if he just thinks about it enough, he can summon the memory.
(Maybe if he just thinks about it enough, he can come to terms with the fact that the man he hated for more than half of his life actually loved him.)
He decides that love just makes a mess of everything. Hatred does, too.
Life is cruel that way.
But, he thinks bitterly, it was crueler to you, wasn’t it, Itachi?
His brother was forced to taint himself, to bathe himself in the blood of his clan for the greater good. Sasuke doesn’t know what fate could be worse than that...to make a villain of yourself when you’ve done nothing but fight for peace.
He blinks at the clouds and finally understands.
How fitting, that Itachi would prefer white over Sasuke’s red.
Itachi...only wanted his hands to be cleansed of the blood. He looks down at his own, a pang of sorrow piercing his heart.
Because he knows that blood never washes out.
Sasuke is sixteen, and red is sadness and regret and Itachi’s fingers coming up to touch his forehead one last time.
He can’t undo his mistakes, but he wants desperately to wash away the red and make it white.
...
Mew.
Sasuke twitches at the sound, swallowing. He’s not surprised to see a familiar black cat settle down in front of him. It looks up expectantly, long tail curling and uncurling as it mews again.
He knows from experience that the troublesome feline will not leave him alone until it’s satisfied. Shaking his head slowly, he grabs a chunk of his onigiri and tosses.
The cat laps it up eagerly.
Sasuke’s lip twinges upwards and he takes another bite. It’s unfortunate that the animal requires his food, but at least the cat offered him some form of company.
The thing had been following him for weeks now, always tagging behind him or hiding nearby. He’s grateful. Being out here alone has taught him to be appreciative.
He never thought he’d miss Sakura’s healing touch and Naruto’s stupid jokes so much. But he’ll see them when he returns.
Maybe then he can (finally, finally) repay their friendship and love with his own.
Sasuke is nearly finished with his meal when he sees the cat approaching him. At first he fears that the greedy feline wants the rest of his rice ball, but it ignores the food in his hand, burying it’s head in his cloak as it sniffs him curiously. It pauses in the hollow space where his arm should be.
He stiffens involuntarily. The cat had never come so close before.
He smiles a sad smile and reaches out tentatively to stroke the cat’s dark fur. The creature leans into the touch, and it’s purring intensifies.
From that moment on, their friendship is no longer dependent on food.
Sasuke is seventeen and red is nightmares and guilt and looking down at your arm only to find a bloody mess.
But he’s healing.
Before, he had thought that he could paint over the crimson blotches, but he only succeeded in making them darker. Now he has to leave the red in the past.
...
“Sasuke-kun?”
Sasuke continues down the path, slowing down a little. “Aa?”
The trees rustle in the wind and the birds sing.
“I know this is kind of stupid....” Sakura starts, and Sasuke glances at her to find she’s blushing. “But I just realized that I have absolutely no idea what your favorite color is.”
“Hn,” he acknowledges, voice softening. “I don’t know yours, either.”
Sakura smiles, and his heartbeat speeds up.
“Oh, well...mine’s always been blue.” She gazes upwards, tilting her head so that her pink tresses fall backwards. “Like the sky, I suppose.”
He grunts, amused by her reasoning. The sky could be pretty, depending on the time of day. Soft blue makes him feel at peace, but vibrant blue hurts his eyes and orange is downright hideous.
Sakura redirects her attention at him again, a suspicious glint in her eye. “You think it’s a dumb reason, don’t you?”
To his misfortune, Sakura notices the teasing smirk on his face. She proceeds to elbow him playfully.
Just like that, the mood is ruined.
It shouldn’t hurt at all, but he flinches.
It’s a tiny jerk, almost imperceptible, but Sakura is on to him immediately. He feels her studying him, picking him apart with her sharp mind and narrowed eyes.
“Sasuke-kun,” she says, obviously concerned. “Show me your arm.”
Sasuke scowls but obeys, not seeing any point in arguing. Once his sleeve is rolled up, Sakura visibly winces. The medic-nin holds his wrist gently as she examines his arm, frowning at the dark bruises that litter it.
She looks hurt, but he can tell she isn’t angry. “I thought we agreed that you’d tell me if you got injured....”
Sasuke sets his jaw and looks away. “You’d used up too much chakra for you to heal me, Sakura. It wouldn’t have been safe.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Then why didn’t you say that?”
“You wouldn’t have listened,” he claims, but not because he’s mad at her. No, he says that because he can’t get mad at her and it infuriates him. “I didn’t want you expending your chakra.”
Sakura tugs on his arm to make him face her, fixing him with her hard gaze. “I care about your wellbeing, Sasuke-kun. Even without chakra, I could have at least bandaged you up! And don’t worry about me expending too much of it, either. I’m a medic-nin and I know my limits.”
Sasuke wishes she would let it go. Seeing her viridian eyes filled with pain makes him question himself. He lapses into silence.
“How’d this even happen?” Sakura asks, a green glow coming from her delicate hands as she runs them over the bruises. “I was right there with you when those guys attacked you, and you hardly ever get hurt,” she huffs, her words drowned out by the soothing chakra. Being healed by her always relaxes him, regardless of her scolding. “I guess I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been...but still—you could have just told me. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you....”
So annoying, Sasuke thinks, focusing on the crease in her brow as she babbles on. He decides to shut her up, but he can’t move his arm without interrupting the procedure, and he gets the feeling that she won’t listen to him, either. He watches her mouth form yet another argument and he can’t take it anymore.
At a loss, he leans down and captures her lips in his.
It proves to be an effective method.
He’s only vaguely aware of what he just did. What he does register, however, is the way Sakura tenses and her eyes widen in shock. Then a pair of slender arms hook around his neck and she kisses him back.
Somehow, the moment lasts forever and not long at all. No words have to be spoken for him to communicate his affection for her.
They pull away gradually, and but he’s not ready to let go of her just yet. He rests his forehead against hers, a tender smile on his lips.
“Sasuke-kun...why’d you...?” Sakura breathes.
“Because,” he leans in next to her ear and whispers, “You’re annoying, Sakura.”
Laughing quietly, she runs her fingers through his hair. Her entire face is glowing beet red.
He smirks at her.
“I wasn’t done healing you, you know,” she points out.
“Aa.”
A sigh follows, but it’s one of contentment rather than frustration. “I’ll finish the job in a minute,” she resolves, looking up at him thoughtfully. “But only if you tell me what your favorite color is first.”
He considers it, a little irritated that she hasn’t forgotten her earlier curiosity.
Sakura waits for his reply as he shifts, thinking back to the that day, long ago, when Itachi had asked the same question. He’d hated the color for years, but.... “It’s red.”
Sakura tilts her head and hums musingly, urging him to go on.
“I used to like it because it reminded me of tomatoes and the uchiwa. After my clan.... I wasn’t so fond of it anymore.” Admitting that does something for him, makes the weight in his chest lighter. “But it’s different now.”
To his relief, Sakura doesn’t dwell on the second part. She knows why red is painful.
“Tomatoes, huh? I should’ve known.” She giggles, but it sounds more like an evil laugh to Sasuke. “That’s adorable, Sasuke-kun.”
He sighs, feeling the back of his neck burn with embarrassment.
A moment passes and Sakura finds his gaze again, her bright green eyes filled with sincerity. “I love you.”
Two fingers meet her forehead in response.
Sasuke is nineteen, and red is love and redemption and Sakura blushing furiously when he taps her forehead and promises that he’ll see her soon.
After twelve years, red is finally his favorite color again.