[A/N] I was calmly writing the next chapter to The Forsaken Heirs. Going about my business. That's when, falling from the skies, Hyūga Tokuma kicked in the door to my imagination and bitch-slapped my inspiration. He came up with a plot. He came up with an idea. He wanted to fucking shine. I tried to refuse. Do I look like a slave?! That's when Sasuke, who had been intently listening to Tokuma's exposé, put a kunai right under my hypothalamus's throat. Hinata tried to console me. But of course, she yielded to the entreaties of the two gentlemen. I got the message. I'll try to keep the chapters as short as humanly possible.

The Pride of the Wounded

Chapter 1

Paltry Tricks

By

Voyna

He brought the sleeve of his coat to his nose. Which wasn't his, per se. Nor was the coat, for that matter.

The art of illusion had always fascinated him. When he had examined himself in a mirror, he had seen a woman. A known woman. And when he had touched the skin of her pale throat, he had felt the caress of his fingers.

There were some things shinobi never truly got accustomed to in their line of work. For some, they could simply not master the art of taijutsu. And thus, the fluidity of movements, the precision of a stroke from a Hyūga's hand earned the said clan an almost religious adulation amongst a class of ninja. In the case of most, they were mediocre at ninjutsu. Therefore, seeing Maito Gai's Tenten producing all sorts of small weapons from her pouches and palliating with strong explosives her lack of chakra was fearsome to those that relied only on their reserves of energy. And of course, there were narrow-minded, obtuse people even among the shinobi ranks. The very idea of genjutsu must have given those poor chaps a headache.

Finally, there was one last class of people. Those like him that were talented at everything. That shone in any discipline. And that were far from intellectually inflexible. It was not misplaced arrogance or self-praise that made him think so highly of himself. It was a fact he belonged to that last class. He wouldn't have made it as far as he had had it been otherwise.

All in all, he used genjutsu. Excelled at it when the need arose. And yet, felt a certain disgust at these types of paltry tricks. However, the Sharingan demanded it.

Squinting, he wondered at the difference between the Sharingan and the common eye. Whereas his Sharingan hadadapted immediately to the darkness of the hallways he was walking through, his other eye had all the difficulties in the world to make out the shadows that fluttered over the oozing stone walls at either side of him.

Ame no Kuni truly was a disgusting country to live in. A sneer distorted his or the woman's mouth, as one pleased, for a split of an instant. A useless country, truly. The weather made it impossible to partake in the noble art of agriculture. The unyielding rain made every plant rot in the seed. One would have thought rice would have thrived in such conditions. Nothing was farther from the truth. Ame's soil was like its rain, acid and poisonous.

The difficult task of finding a use, any use, for this expanse of garbage, had befallen him. Of course. After the war, the dictator finally killed and the last beloved leader long buried, there had been none to take care of the country. And, as Oto, it had become one of Hi no Kuni's, one could freely say Konoha's, military protectorates.

And in his great magnanimity, Hi no Kuni's daimyō had installed its most hardened mercenaries in Amegakure, exported all the native populations and spread them out through the world, with little attention to families remaining together, and simply dumped the heavy load on his faithful executor, on his obedient dog's head.

It was virtually impossible for a dog to make the world comprehend the greatness of a scheme that had started in genocide. Because this poor dog himself did not see much greatness in it. However, it was the burden he had accepted to shoulder. And thus, brandishing bombastic words such as freedom, security, national interests and counting on human greed which was truly the only thing one could fully and firmly rely on, he had, in the daimyō's name, transformed Amegakure into a city-prison for the most hated criminals.

Had he mentioned of late how little taste he had for paltry tricks?

A small spasm under his right eye was enough to make the guard marching in front of him, a retired ANBU that had been thrown away like trash as soon as he had reached the venerable age of thirty, turn his head. He knew the woman walking behind him by name. However, he had never had the chance to be further acquainted with her. And as the good Cerberus that he was, even though she had carried a letter signed by the Hōkage himself, even though he had uncovered with ease all the small security devices the scroll had been filled with, he could not feel at ease with her trailing him.

There was something cold and calculating, calm and composed about that woman. And to be honest, the first time he had seen her in his life, she had appeared nor calm nor calculated. In fact, the promise of a cunning spirit that shone through her washed-out, lilac eyes was a novelty he, ANBU that he had been, could swear had not been there before.

Little did he know his suspicion, which the woman, or whatever that the being was, noticed, was gaining him some respect in her eyes. In fact, respect towards a man spending his life in the stench of stagnant air and mostly dying prison inmates should have been a granted thing. It often wasn't.

"How well is he guarded?"

Her voice was deep and rough. However, the way she spoke did not match its timber. She spoke as someone full of sense. There might have even been some subtle playfulness hiding behind the simple words she had uttered. Again, the image the ward had of her did not match the voice. Nonetheless, he answered. Prepared as he was to parry any attacks that might have crossed her mind.

"Twenty-four seven surveillance. Solitary confinement with the exception of three wards at all time with him in the cell. Chakra-activity monitoring. Movement detectors. Cell right beside the wards' chambers."

The woman slowly nodded her attractive head, absently looking at the stone walls. The place truly reeked. It was cold and insalubrious. Few inmates lasted longer than a year or two before coming down with pneumonia or other infections. There had been an outbreak of tuberculosis of late, due mostly to the inadequate food the prisoners were fed. And since the medical system Ame enjoyed was to say the least primitive, the sick prisoners had seen their end come slightly faster than expected and their bodies and possessions (if the rags they wore could be called possessions) burned.

But there was one man that stubbornly clung to life and did not seem to plan dying anytime soon.

"How effective is that system against him?"

The ward's shoulders tensed and he turned his head away, staring at the hole of darkness in front of them. Yeah, well, it wasn't his fucking fault. He did with what he got. Ibiki-san's little inspector could very well quote him on this.

"He pisses a little harder against the walls of his cell and the tower is reduced to rubbles. How about that?"

As expected. He could have broken out. He pissed a little harder against the walls of his cell and it wouldn't be this makeshift prison that would be reduced to rubbles. But the whole country. He had proven he could do as much. And knowing him, he wouldn't shy away from doing even more.

Pensively chewing at her lower lip, the woman let the guard guide her through multiple doors, all fit with sophisticated locking systems and expensive recognition devices. Heh. So much money invested in keeping criminals behind thick, stone walls.

While most developed countries, as they liked to refer to themselves, still relied on the free labor of serfs to uphold their economic systems.

While barely a few tens of kilometers from Konoha there was a forest in which starving parents would hang their children from the highest branches before following them in death.

While twelve-year olds were sent to war, their youthful naivety exploited and their innocence sullied with demagogy.

During that time, Hi no Kuni's daimyō would spend his summers in his personal resort by Kirigakure's sea. And he himself, not hidden behind the likeness of a well-known woman as he was at that instant, would sit in the Konoha's highest tower, looking down on the world that had been thrust into his unwilling hands.

Nausea overtook him. But his step did not betray his trouble. Long ago had he lost this ability (because it truly was an ability) to let his feelings overpower his body. He didn't know when his body had started overpowering his feelings. Better to say he didn't remember it because it went back to his infancy most probably.

A strange sensation coiled in his stomach as he finally saw two guards standing, their legs apart, their hands behind their backs, in front of a small, iron door. To get in or out, one had to squat low. The two wards were tall, strong and he recognized them easily. ANBU. Not retired ANBU but ANBU. Not too young to be inexperienced. Not too old to be insufficient.

Their eyes shone through their masks. Shone with resentment. They had been sacrificed, their souls screamed. And indeed. So much talent left to rot behind the high walls of Ame no Kuni. Their wives abandoned, their children left to grow wild. Another sardonic rictus pulled at the woman's lips. Yes, the state of the affairs under his responsibility disgusted him. But he disgusted himself even more, revolted as he was. After all, he had been the one to handpick and assign them to the task.

As they came closer, one of the two ANBU lifted his hand. The other let his arms drop to his sides, flexing his fingers. This would get awkward. The woman had to do her best to stifle a snicker.

"Mitarashi-san, with all due respect, we'll have to pat you down."

If Anko had known he was about to let someone get a feel of her breasts (well, not truly hers), she would have murdered him. Actually, if ever she got wind he had stolen some of her clothes and messed around with the inspection date, she would castrate him, he could guarantee. Pity, he better not ever let her mouth come close to his dick again. A tough life he was leading.

The guard that had guided him stepped aside. Even though, they had been wearing masks, their eyes trailing down to the imitation of Anko's breasts did not go unnoticed by him. If there was someone that understood you, boys, it was him. She didn't wear anything underneath that damn mesh-top. And her long, heavy canvas coat didn't do much to cover anything about her. Neither did the short skirt.

Heck, had he gone sexless for months as they must have (unless they had discovered a long-hidden attraction to members of their sex; he had made sure no women would ever guard the inmate behind that small door, he was poison to women), his hands would have shaken as well at the idea of getting a feel of a real female body.

Hence, not wishing to rob them of this little joy, he obediently lifted Anko's arms and indifferently abandoned her to the hands of the two ANBU. However, they were professionals. They had said they would pat her down. And that is all they did. They tapped here and there, their palms barely remaining for a split of a second on a particular part of her anatomy.

However, something attracted their attention. Something hard. She had been divested of all weapons and unnecessary belongings, they knew. They could only imagine it to be scroll they had felt under their palms.

Taking a step back, one of them resumed his military pose while the other, bowing respectfully, demanded to see what it was that she had in one of her coat's inner pockets. Without a complaint, her hand disappeared under the folds of her coat, revealing for a split of a second a ripe breast only protected by a weak mesh-top. However, even that mere pleasure was of short duration, and the two ANBU turned their heads away from the woman, as if worried she could see their blush under their masks.

Anko's likeness extended the hand holding the scroll. But none of the two of them took it from her. Scared it would bite them?

"Mitarashi-san, please unlock the scroll and show us both sides."

With how dark it was in that narrow hallway, they wouldn't be able to read a thing without lightening or fire jutsu. He was willing to humor them. Swiftly, her fingers flying about the scroll, small sparks of chakra leaving her hands, the scroll was unlocked and in one movement of her wrist, it rolled down to the floor. The ANBU scanned the scrolls, not able to read a thing. She turned it around. They got a good look at the other side. It obviously wasn't imbibed in chakra and did not give off the stench of explosive. Good enough for them.

To be honest, for all they cared, she could have brought in a small artillery and they would have let her pass. Because, the man they were guarding just had to blow their way, and they were doomed. It wasn't worth being delusional about it. Just that, there was something to be said about the ANBU taisa screwing a metal stick up yours. They couldn't not be anal about security, even though it was a loss of their time in this instance.

Again, a flick of Anko's wrist was enough to make the scroll roll up by itself. A stern nod from the ANBU announced they were all clear. A thump on the small door and it was thrown open.

Finally, the show was on.

One of the ANBU squatted down, passed his head through the aperture and in a stern, commanding voice, announced Mitarashi Anko-san. Some shifting on the other side of the door. The squatting man removed himself and motioned with his head to the opening.

"You are going in by yourself, Mitarashi-san. There are three guards waiting inside."

She, or he, or whatever he was at the moment (he was getting confused himself), nodded her … his … its head. Walked towards the door, squatted down and shifting from one foot to the other, passed into the cell.

To be welcomed by three giants. Again, he had been the one to handpick them.

"Mitarashi-san," one of them greeted.

He stood up. Looked them up and down. Looked around himself. The cell was worse than what he had imagined. The same oozing stones as walls. A bucket in a corner. Most probably for when the inmate had to relieve himself. However, what surprised him the most was the smell. The stench that had welcomed him as he had walked past the cells of the lesser criminals had made bile rush into his mouth.

No such stench filled his nostrils now. There was a disagreeable odor of mould, yes. Of wet straw as well. Wet earth. Stagnant air.

But not of dirty bodies. Of excrement and urine. Of rotting food.

Oh, of course, the guards, even though they were ANBU, had tried to treat the inmate as a mere criminal. Half-expecting he would shorten their suffering if they pushed him to insanity. One way to ensure insanity in an animal was to make it live in its own excrements and urine. The same could be said about the average inmate.

Their own prisoner had an advantage. He had them at a desirable distance. Hence, when they had refused to get rid of his feces and bodily fluids, he had pulled up the rags he used to conceal his ass. He'd grabbed onto the bucket he had defiled previously. And covered the three guards with its contents. All that with only one arm.

Since that day, when he was done eating, or when he wished to be spared from the ordeal of bringing prison food (if whatever they served them could be called food) to his lips, he had his guards getting rid of whatever was left behind. When he was done having a piss or a dump, the shit (aptly named) disappeared. The straw he slept on was changed regularly. He didn't care much about sleeping on wet straw. Finally, he demanded to be watered daily. Like a plant. And he couldn't care less whether the water was ice cold. Their inmate was, in other words, a dandy. He also washed the cell. And his rags. Used chakra to dry them. And never as much as made an attempt to harm them. Or even to speak to them.

The animal had trained the men. And it had trained them well. Or in military language, whomever it was that inhabited this small ground-zero was a first-class arsewipe.

Anko approached the guards and by an elegant movement of the hand, so uncommon to her, she demanded they moved to the side and let her pass. They did as bid. Remaining close by. Yes, their prisoner was of a calm, temperate nature. However, one did not know when the savage beast would be awakened in his bosom. And for having seen it up close three years ago, they did not wish to have Mitarashi Anko-san, as dangerous as she could be herself, exposed to any menace in their presence. Mostly because it would not look good on their resume.

And there he was. Seated on a bundle of straw. His right elbow taking support on a raised knee and his chin resting on his palm. How much he had changed. How little he had changed. Through a thick mane of black hair that had grown long, cold obsidian eyes shone. His skin was paler than ever. Proof he didn't play hooky when he was supposed to be grounded. A lump formed in the woman's throat as her eyes trailed down his maimed left arm. Or what remained of it.

One thing that surprised was how toned his body, bear from the neck down to the waist, had remained. Actually that wo–, ma– … that thing that was standing in front of him had walked in on him training. And if there was one thing he fucking hated was when one of his sessions was interrupted.

His ass seated on the shit he used as a bed, he couldn't believe how much of a carnival his life had become. And why?! Just because he had tried to invade a few countries and mostly failed because he had been a seventeen-year old snot that hadn't known half of what he knew now?! Did that truly deserve having a transvestite coming to disturb the peaceful little nest he had created himself?! Why hadn't they executed him?! It would have been more humane, goddammit.

Yep. The inmate in question was no other than the little bitch par excellence. A deadly little bitch whom no one would have poked with a stick, mind you. And who only bitched with his eyes and a great variety of expressions of dislike. You had the choice between tch and hn. Your pick.

The prisoner's lips quivered in disgust.

"Tch", was the only thing he could come up with in such a situation.

Tilting her head to the side and letting a subtle smile pull at her lips, Anko (let's just call it Anko for now, as a show of respect towards the poor prisoner's own confusion) examined the seated form. Let her cold gaze run down his chest. There was nothing feminine about that look. Nothing of the admiration a woman could not fail to feel when looking at his body.

"I am happy to see you too, Uchiha-san", she purred mockingly.

His name in that mouth sounded like an insult spat his way. The muscles of his abdomen contracted unwillingly. And the guards felt his nervousness, tightening their position behind Mitarashi Anko's back. Knowing full well that if Uchiha Sasuke decided to attack, they would not be able to defend themselves, let alone her.

Turning her head, Anko pinned them with her expressionless eyes. Nothing like Mitarashi Anko's blazing, active gaze.

"Leave me alone with Uchiha-san."

Those words had not been spoken as a demand but a command. The guards tensed immediately. And their unwillingness to leave was clearly visible in how stubbornly they set their jaws. But that did not faze her. One bit.

"The faster I am done with him, the faster you can have him back."

The rude undertone made more than one grind their molars. Uchiha Sasuke was only left to roll his eyes. That dickhead was truly something else. He had hoped he wouldn't have to put up with the likes of him ever again. Especially after the asshole had ascended to power. Nothing was that easy in life, was it?!

Grudgingly, the guards started retreating towards the small door at the other side of the cell.

"If he gets aggressive, you just holler, Mitarashi-san."

A snort escaped her. As if they would be able to do much if Sasuke got aggressive. Mind you, she was sure she would be able to master him. How many times had she (okay, it was getting weird referring to himself as her, it even gave him the creeps) thought so before!

As the small gates were locked, leaving her with Uchiha Sasuke, Anko cracked her shoulders as if she were uncomfortable. Looked around herself some more. Before turning her eyes back to him.

Squatting down, tilting her head to the side, she extended her hand as if wishing to caress the prisoner's head. He was not naïve to believe it to be the case. Hence, when those long, feminine fingers grabbed a handful of his hair, Sasuke's mouth didn't even distort in a show of pain. Jerking his head back, she tried to convey contempt with her glare. And failed at it miserably. Shards of affection, of broken memories remained, shining through her false exterior.

Sasuke smelled them out like the bloodhound that he was. The smallest weakness where he was concerned could cost one. Haruno Sakura knew as much. And had Uzumaki Naruto been able to learn a lesson, he would have known so as well.

"How low you have fallen", the woman whispered.

It should have been an insult, but it made the Uchiha smirk in ease.

"Hn."

He had not fallen so low as to steal his whore's clothes … and exterior appearance. All that to be able to flee his prison for a few instants. That small tug at the corner of his lips said it all. And irked Anko beyond anything bearable. He would never change.

Three years spent in a humid, seedy cell could not break him. Mostly because he stayed there by choice. He could leave, he could run. Uchiha Sasuke simply chose not to. One big stone, torn out of the walls, lied by his bed of straw. It was easily imaginable what he used it for. Support when he did push-ups, his legs high up in the air, his back straight as an arrow. In equilibrium on only one arm. Kettle-bell when he chose to strengthen his legs. Weight when he wanted to add a little bit of muscle mass to his body. And nothing but silence surrounding him.

That silence he had always yearned for. That silence he had cherished. That silence that had made him delusional in the end. At least, so those closest to him had believed. Silence had been an acid corroding his mind. Funny how Naruto's senseless jabbering and Sakura's annoying attempts to interact with him had not helped his case. But not one bit.

Motioning with her head to the ceiling, she asked him whether there were any microphones attached to the chakra-monitoring cameras that could be found at every corner.

"You should know that better than anyone", was his mocking reply.

One would have expected speech impairment from a man so little versed in the art of conversation as was Uchiha Sasuke. And yet, he spoke with no difficulty. His mind was all that he had ever needed. His conceit had made him his favored interlocutor.

Turning her eyes back to him, aware that there would be no microphones in the cell since the thoughts and ideas of a delusional criminal would be of no interest to anyone, she whispered in a languorous voice:

"Is this how you welcome your former sensei? I would have expected more warmth from you, Sasuke."

The fuck he would have. The last time they had seen each other, the cocksucker had condemned Sasuke to life in prison. His first act of greatness as Hōkage, eh? Some won the people over with clemency. Others chose on the contrary to instill fear as soon as they got the smallest sliver of power.

He could have set him free. He could have let him depart. In the end, after all his failures, after all his desperate attempts to give a future to a world that was doomed to collapse on itself, precipitated into doom by human greed, the only thing Uchiha Sasuke had wished had been peace.

And honestly speaking, he had gotten it. In a very restrictive way.

The reproach that shone through the Uchiha's eyes, as dark as a sinner's soul, was not lost on his former sensei's part. His former sensei, present Hōkage and at the moment transvestite and thief. Finally, Hatake Kakashi, having stolen his … what Anko was to him was not exactly clear, even to him, the sex was good and she hated labels hence … not the point. Finally, Hatake Kakashi having stolen a woman's appearance and clothes was allowed to be referred to with his born gender. He was a he, fully and totally, thank you.

"If you hate it so much, why do you not leave?"

Kakashi was retaking the upper hand with these few words. Oh, he could still read Sasuke enough. He had known an Uchiha before. As different as the two of them were, there were some common traits that were characteristic to all Uchiha. You knew one, you knew them all. Exactly like Hyūga. That knowledge had always put Kakashi at somewhat of an advantage. Even though he had started to need some reading glasses.

"I will tell you why."

Removing his hand from Sasuke's head, he looked at dark locks falling back over the Uchiha's obsidian eyes. The eyes of an eagle. Intelligent. Ominous. Primitive. And blazing with an all-consuming fire.

"You could leave now without being seen. Without being felt. You could disappear in thin air from this cell. From this tower. From this country. And if you did so, what would happen? I would unleash my ANBU onto you. For the form."

The young man's chiseled mouth, that had made more than one little girl sigh in desire, distorted in an expression of hatred.

"You would kill them. And I would send more to you. You would kill them too. Mizu, Rai, Kaze would send you their men. You would have to get rid of them just as much. Oto is now Hi no Kuni's protectorate. Yu has been toppled. Kusa is as flat as a plate. I cannot imagine you being welcome in Tetsu. And Shimo would conceal you at best for a few months."

A growl almost escaped Uchiha Sasuke's lips. He restrained it in extremis. Yes, he was an eagle. An imprisoned eagle.

"Do you understand now what your actions have brought upon you? Have I not warned you throughout your adolescence about the choices you were making?! Wherever you would go, you would be viewed as a nuisance. As a prey of sorts. And doomed to become even more of a reviled criminal at each one of your steps. You would only rouse fear and hatred in the hearts of your contemporaries. "

Well, now Sasuke understood why the asshole had become Hōkage. He loved to listen to himself talk. He'd just used contemporaries in a sentence, for fuck's sake. Hadn't it been for that word, Sasuke might have actually considered accelerating the process of becoming a … what was it? Reviled criminal? By significantly reducing the Hōkage's lifespan.

But Kakashi wasn't done with him just yet. He had a few more things to say. Strangely, in the last three years, his clear-sightedness where his former students were concerned had started weakening. A few years back, when his one and only duty had been to lead them on the path of righteousness, he had felt there was not one emotion they could conceal from him. He wasn't so sure what to make of Sasuke's prying, surgical stare. As empty as a bottomless pit.

Kakashi's own ambitions had dulled most of his innate aptitudes. That and the compromises he had started making. Condoning inherent evil for the common good. A dangerous game he was playing. Having seen so many before him getting burned by the fire they had fed themselves, one would have thought he would have shied away from such methods. But, just like them, he had understood there was no alternative. You had to gamble. To play high.

He had not come as a sensei to Uchiha Sasuke, no. He had not come to visit his former pupil, moved by a paternal feeling of culpability at his demise. No, he had come as a man just as desperate to save the world as Sasuke had been a few years ago. And to succeed in the task, this Hōkage, as all the previous Hōkage, was willing to sacrifice what he held most precious. His family.

That paternal feeling of culpability beat strong in his heart. Just that it was not due to his pupil's demise. But to the fact that Kakashi himself would put a blindfold over Sasuke's eyes and lead him towards destruction. And as a man who had decided upon one course of action, he was ruthless till the very end, begging the gods, begging Uchiha Obito and Itachi to forgive him.

But the belief the three years Uchiha Sasuke had spent in idleness might be putting him at a disadvantage facing Uzumaki Naruto did substantially alleviate Kakashi's grief. Naruto could be manipulated. One just had to use Haruno Sakura. She could be just as ruthless as Kakashi himself. Just with more ethics, which in itself was an advantage for Kakashi. Uchiha Sasuke's death would be fast and painless. Wasn't that, in the end, what any man, any shinobi wished for? And yet so few of them saw that wish granted.

He would make sure that if nothing else, Uchiha Sasuke would, without knowing, realize one of his dreams. He would save the world. Just not in the way he had imagined. Swallowing all the contempt towards himself that burned his throat, Hatake Kakashi pushed aside his individuality and became the faceless, the nameless bearer of the title of Hōkage.

"The truth, Sasuke, is that this artificial peace you have created yourself does not satisfy you. It keeps you from seeing Naruto and Sakura, fair enough. They are after all the wretched proofs of your failure. But not only that. You cannot face them because all the pain they had to bear in your name has not ended with your redemption. It is in fact the very idea of your redemption that tortures them, isn't it? You who in the end did redeem for your crimes are closed up in a cage. Like a vulgar pigeon. Tell me, was it worth it? Was it worth serving Uchiha Madara's, your own kin's, head on a silver platter to the world? Ever wondered whether your brother thought it worth where your family was concerned?"

In a movement so swift Kakashi barely saw it, Sasuke's hand shot out, aiming for a woman's white throat. His old sensei might have become a bureaucrat, spending his days with his ass seated on a leather armchair. But he still had killer reflexes. Sasuke's palm collided with what was supposed to be Anko's. The woman's fine, long fingers intertwined with the attacker's in no time. Deepening the connection between two men that could have been close had circumstances not decided otherwise.

The surge of chakra that ran through Kakashi's left arm was of such amplitude that he momentarily lost control of his own tenketsu. Little did he know he should have thanked Sasuke for so much aggression. The pure energy that emanated from his former pupil disturbed the chakra and motion-monitors for a split of an instant. Coinciding with Kakashi's front crumbling.

Regaining control over himself, he stabilized the persona of Mitarashi Anko. And although his arm was numb and the tenketsu from his pinky finger all the way up to his shoulder were already distended beyond the laws of physics, he did his best to push Sasuke's energy back to its source. He was straining the tenketsu in his chest and back in the process.

Kakashi's pulse picked up. His heart's pace became erratic. And he couldn't take a normal breath. All of his energy, whether physical or intellectual, was channelled into not having his façade slip. And battling his former pupil's invading assault.

He could already feel his muscle convulsing. Then rigidifying frighteningly. So this is what dying of tetanus felt like? Thanks to Uchiha Sasuke, Kakashi finally knew what all those peasants and civilians from Oto had felt when Konoha had invaded and they had been forced to flee over fields and mounts. The border with Yu no Kuni had been strewn with their starved, and at times infected, carcasses. Undertaker teams had been dispatched. Kakashi had only heard in the aftermath of the scenes they had beheld. However, during silent nights, seated in his dark offices, the images of childlike corpses came to haunt him.

Leaning in, his dark eyes visible through strands of his hair, Uchiha Sasuke made Kakashi feel what thousands of people before him had felt. He made him feel the soft breath of death fawning over his lips. And it was deeply terrifying.

So close to the old cocksucker as he was, Sasuke could see Obito's Sharingan appearing through flashes in the lilac hue of his sensei's disguise eyes. This sight induced him to activate his own Dōjutsu. What had been pitch-black became blood red. And the tomoe, the devil's tears, bloomed in the midst of Uchiha Sasuke's own eyes.

His lips parted. His canines, white and trenchant as those of Inuzuka, glistened even though there was no light in his cell. The words he uttered reverberated through Kakashi's whole body.

"What the fuck do you want?", he hissed.

He had a snake's tongue. Something he had inherited from Orochimaru, no doubt. Kakashi would have answered had it not implied revealing his identity to the whole prison tower, through the cameras filling the damn cell. He could not maintain the genjutsu he was using and … remain alive, pretty much.

Sasuke knew so. And he relished it. He relished this show of power. He wanted Hatake Kakashi, former sensei, Hōkage and whatever else he was, to understand one time and for all that the old Sasuke, that kid that had ranked last in assertiveness, was fucking dead. And that there was nothing, nothing at all in this world, that would make him revert back to that lost, frightened boy who cried for his brother to come take him away.

Once he was sure he had impressed that fact upon Kakashi, Sasuke decided he could cut him some slack. He hadn't even used one hundredth of his power. And yet, looking at the man who was Hōkage, who was the main god of a pantheon Sasuke had wanted to invade, taking in deep, desperate breathes, made satisfaction spread throughout his whole body. One could be considered the greatest man of a nation and not come to scratch where Uchiha Sasuke was considered.

A satisfied smirk, the first in so many years, appeared on Sasuke's lips. It was a measly pleasure, sure. But I was still worth savouring. And it rendered him almost complacent. The fingers that had compulsively been grabbing Kakashi's relaxed. And let the Hōkage's arm limply fall to his side. His former sensei's other hand shot out and grabbed onto the abused arm. It didn't do much to stop blood flowing down from his shoulder to his fingers. The pain that resulted was so sharp that he blanched. It was even visible through his mask.

Amused to the utmost for the first time in a long while, the Uchiha arrogantly kicked his chin up, raised a mocking, a demanding eyebrow and observed the suffering man in front of him through his long eyelashes.

Kakashi might have been the Hōkage … but he would have exchanged the very arm Uchiha Sasuke had abused for the privilege of giving him a well-deserved beating. Oh, he wasn't delusional to believe himself a match to the oh-so-amazing Avenger. However, he still managed to catch Uzumaki Naruto off-guard and clip him behind the head with a hard object. If only he could have done the same to Sasuke now … But no.

His functional hand disappeared under the folds of Anko's long coat and retrieved the scroll that had attracted so much attention beforehand. Tossing it in the air, he looked at Sasuke catching it indifferently. And certainly not going through the trouble of opening it. However, there was something else that Kakashi had not considered. Sasuke had had a very active life. And he might not have had the chance to read as much as was necessary to maintain a proficiency in the domain. The thought did not cross his mind and he simply assumed he was being an arrogant dick as was his habit.

"What would you say, Sasuke, if I had come to redress all the wrongs?"

Leaning in, Kakashi observed the young man from under his own, grey eyelashes, trying to gauge his mood. With Sasuke it could go either way. He could accept without being pressed. As much as he could send you to go fuck yourself. He was hot, then he was cold. You never knew what end was up and what end down with the likes of him. You had to gamble. Uchiha Sasuke himself was a gambler. And ever since he had left Orochimaru's protection, he had played and lost big. He was tired. And disappointed. And wanted out.

If there was one person that understood Sasuke, it was Kakashi. First hand. One was willing to sacrifice the last bits of his humanity to save the world from its own ruin. One was willing to become a reviled dictator to unify warring countries. One was willing to sin, to lap up all the mud between Kaze and Rai no Kuni for a shot at creating a world where peace among humans and countries existed, even if that implied a state of ongoing war, cruel but necessary contradiction.

One was willing to live an eternity of lonely suffering. For the common good.

However, all these wishes, all these sacrifices are based on the idea that the human is inherently good and that he tends towards peace. The mistake Uchiha Sasuke, young, idealistic had made, even if he had believed otherwise. Humans were inherently evil. Sasuke had believed he had known as much and Kakashi could tell him he had been wrong. Humans would be willing to suffer losses of the greatest amplitude themselves if they could be ensured that their neighbors would at least sustain a scratch.

Had Uchiha Sasuke succeeded in establishing his reign of terror, he would have seen the Raikage knocking at his front door. With gifts and sugary-sweet words aplenty. And more than willing to hit a deal that would imply Konoha's falling into further disgrace. The model of unity against dictatorship never worked. But never.

Kakashi was not young and naïve anymore. And the mistakes of judgement Sasuke had made would not have been forgivable in him. He was not interested in uprooting the effect or consequence, as one wished. He desired to destroy the cause. The origin. He desired not to fortify the system by promoting cooperation. On the contrary, he desired to tear the structure down.

And for that to occur, the corner stone had to be blasted. How tired Kakashi was. He wondered in this instance, looking into Sasuke's red eyes, whether he too had felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. Whether he too had tasted the bitterness of knowing one had to do unforgivable evil for good to have an opportunity to blossom. Had Sasuke been better at reading the eyes of his interlocutors, he might have seen how violently Kakashi, his former sensei, his mentor, was begging to be forgiven for what he was about to do.

"You wish freedom. I can give you freedom. I can erase your very existence from Konoha's annals. One word from me, and the world will believe Uchiha Sasuke has died of tuberculosis in one of Ame no Kuni's prison towers. And his corpse burned to avoid further spreading of the disease. If you are smart enough, and I do have respect for your intellectual abilities, Sasuke, you will keep from rekindling with the likes of Karin, Suigetsu and Jūgo."

A flash of rage passing through the young man's eyes informed Kakashi that he had been heard. And well understood. And he did well to respect Sasuke's intellectual abilities. He might have been young, but he was not stupid enough to believe the man who had gotten him a life-sentence (little did he know how much Kakashi had had to battle, and against whom, for Uchiha Sasuke not to be executed).

He locked him up in a dump for three years. And then threw the doors wide open and let him depart?! Yeah, right. Nothing was free in this world. That much Sasuke had learned. He'd learned it the hard way, too. Plus, to be honest, there was something humiliating in the idea that he would have to hide for the rest of his life. Mind you, he would have had to hide either way to avoid having Naruto and Sakura to shoving their big muzzles up his ass, as had been their habit. And it's not like he hadn't done so before. For years.

"Oh, you are right", Kakashi whispered smilingly.

"Nothing is for free in this world. Orochimaru taught you as much, didn't he?"

Like, what was Sasuke supposed to do to teach the asshole a lesson that he would understand?! He had to bring up Itachi and Orochimaru. Maybe if Sasuke tore his jawbone out? Maybe that would be a message the Hōkage would get, huh?! For fuck's sake.

Seeing Sasuke more than willing to give him a repeat of that scene where he tries to make his heart explode from the inside out, Kakashi decided to cut it to the chase.

"Kill one man. And you are free."

Sure, bro', 'cause Sasuke took requests. He just went about asking the first cocksucker whom he wanted to see dead. Took out his sword. And there we go. Heck, after all the people he'd killed, one more or one less didn't really make a difference, ah?!

He wasn't taking him seriously one bit. As soon as he'd said those three magical words, the atmosphere had lightened considerably. Kakashi felt like he'd just avoided getting torn into pieces by a horde of wild boars. Tilting his head to the side, he examined how from red, Sasuke's eyes slowly darkened and became black again. Removing his arm from his knee, the young man simply let his back slide against the cold, wet stones of his cell. He threw the scroll he'd been giving up in the air, caught it and repeated the motion. Looking at Kakashi as if he'd just said something so utterly retarded that laughing about it would be superfluous.

"I didn't expect you to agree without a reason", Sasuke's former sensei stated, shrugging his persona's shoulders.

"Take a look at the scroll. It'll interest you. I bet you'll recognize the signature at the bottom."

Would that make him get his ass out of Sasuke's cell?! Turning his head round, he made his neck crack. And opened the damn scroll. With one hand, just to mention that charming point. Had taught him that the only thing you got when you tried to save the world was a chopped-off arm and a life-sentence in the equivalent in humidity of a swamp.

Yeah, well, Sasuke sucked at kanji. But not to the point of not recognizing Danzō's fucking signature. Kakashi saw the immediate reaction. At once, the Uchiha's shoulders tensed. His eyes, ever so adapted to the dark, frenetically scanned the scroll.

He saw the mention of another name, he believed, but he could not make out what it was. As said, he sucked at kanji. A small tremor shook his cheek however. The very mention of Danzō usually had such an effect on him.

"What the fuck is this?"

Sasuke's voice had become so deep that Kakashi felt the question more than he heard it. A small smile tugged at Anko's lips. If that old piece of shit Danzō still had enough influence on the Avenger, Kakashi had a good chance at making closing that deal.

"A very compromising document, that's what it is. Somewhat of a binding agreement between the Hyūga and Konoha. Made by none other than Danzō on behalf of the village. Remember him?"

Oh, Sasuke remembered. He just couldn't see why the fuck he would want to know anything about the deals between Danzō and some cocksucker clan. He couldn't give less of a shit to be honest. And his former sensei could see the sardonic indifference that settled in at the mention of the Hyūga.

"And what is it to me?", Sasuke spat in contempt.

"I don't know. I just thought it would interest you to know that three days before your clan was reduced to ashes by your brother, Danzō had signed an agreement transferring all counterespionage and intelligence duties to the Hyūga clan. But maybe I was wrong, ah?"

At that point, Sasuke had stopped breathing for a split of an instant. Forgetting all about it actually. Three days before the Uchiha clan had been wiped off of the surface of the earth, Danzō had been drafting mundane agreements. As if nothing was bound to happen. As if it just was business as usual.

Kakashi noticed Sasuke hadn't grasped the gist of what he was implying. He hadn't expected for the lightbulb to just go off. He could imagine the boy didn't know jack about the Uchiha's place in Konoha's military community. Sure, they had been in charge of the Police. Keeping peace and all that uninteresting BS that couldn't have satisfied a prolific clan as the Uchiha.

"You'll admit it is interesting that all the ANBU in the counterespionage and intelligence unit were Uchiha. And overnight got replaced by Hyūga. What is even more fascinating is the fact that this document exists. Danzō wasn't the type to leave sloppy traces behind. Or to be coerced into doing something. But here you have his signature, his promise that the Hyūga would get the prime of anything that happened in the world. They must have had one hell of a stronghold on his balls. Wonder why?"

Sasuke became still to the point Kakashi wondered whether he hadn't just sustained a heart attack and died. Remaining in a seating position. So, if he poked the little piece of shit, would he just fall to his side? He could've tried, for sure. Just that Kakashi didn't have that much of a death wish, to be honest.

That scroll didn't mean a shit. It didn't mean anything. Was Sasuke trying to convince himself? Danzō had decided to wipe the Uchiha clan off the surface of the earth using Itachi as his scapebitch. And obviously, the disappearance of a few hundreds of souls would leave big shoes to fill in. He couldn't have handed down the duty of snooping around to the likes of Akimichi, obviously. The Hyūga had the Byakugan. Sasuke didn't know much about the crap, but he could very well imagine it did the job where spying was concerned.

Kakashi followed the Uchiha's train of thoughts on his face. A rapid flare of the brow at the realization of what Kakashi implied. A tightening of the lips at the thought of what happened to his clan. And unclenching of his teeth when he succeed at making himself believe there was nothing to that document he was holding in his remaining hand.

"Yeah, you are right. That document only goes to prove the Hyūga and Danzō had a close relationship. Close enough for him to entrust them with the task of spying on behalf of the village. He must have believed them to be more trustworthy than other clans, surely. Doesn't seem they had the same opinion about him, since they got him to sign a binding agreement."

That trustworthy had been dripping with sarcasm.

"I would personally trust any clan that has been as intimate with the Senju as the Hyūga. They always knew how to give such excellent advice to all of Konoha's great ones."

A sneering woman was a sight to behold. What the fuck had crept up Kakashi's ass?! He sure as fuck didn't seem to like the Hyūga. Did Sasuke really care? How about: fuck no?!

Dropping the scroll onto the moist ground of the cell (the shit was clean, he'd passed a broom; yessum, Sasuke demanded to have a broom at hand whenever he wished, he would not live in filth, thanks), he passed his palm over his eyes, massaging at them energetically.

"Just get your fucking ass out of here."

Uchiha Sasuke in all his glory. Kakashi hadn't expected anything better, honestly. Just that if anyone thought that was all the Hōkage got up his sleeve, they were heading for a great disappointment. You didn't become Hōkage by simply stealing some documents from the most dangerous clan in the world. Because that shit hadn't surely come from Danzō's villa, duh.

And ok, Kakashi hadn't exactly been the one to steal it. You did not simply steal from the Hyūga. Even when you were a Hyūga. That's what their mole had learned during the war. When he had been miraculously disposed of in an intricate setup. Those fuckers were theatrical. And cunning. No one had seen through it. It had taken Kakashi himself a while, and a lot of snooping around, to realize that the numbers hadn't added up where Hyūga Neji had been concerned.

All that to say, there was some more shit to his show-and-tell routine. Anko's hands disappearing under the lapels of her heavy coat, Kakashi blindly groped about until he felt what he had sewn into the lining. In a swift movement, at either side of the woman's ribs, a faint ripping sound was heard and two envelopes, retrieved. Generally, shinobi communicated by written through scrolls. These envelopes, letters and all the ceremony surrounding them were an anachronism reminding certain higher-ranking clans that once they had been samurai. That once, so long ago, they had held honor above anything else.

Sasuke's attention was piqued, to Kakashi's relief (even though he would never have admitted he had doubted himself to the point of feeling worried). One envelope had been made of a fragile paper that, through the years, had taken a yellowish hue. That envelope, and the letter inside of it, had been made to be destroyed shortly after reception. The other one however was of a stunning white. And of a sturdy appearance. It had been meant to last. Both had been opened at some point in time.

"You want to read yourself a bed-time story, ah, Uchiha?", the woman in front of him purred into the air, before carefully placing one envelope in equilibrium on her knee.

Turning the remaining, yellowish envelope, Kakashi obviously wanted Sasuke to take a good look at the recipient's name. Yeah, well, he could recognize the kanji for Hyūga now. But that other name following didn't ring a fucking bell.

"Addressed to Hyūga Hiruka. The former leader of the Hyūga clan. Strange anachronism since at the time this letter was written, Hyūga Hiruka hadn't been leader of the clan for years. However, as is often the case with powerful clans, he did retain an enviable position in the administration of clan affairs. Then again, one wouldn't be writing to him surely. At least not for a matter of importance, hmm?"

And just as carefully as he had placed the other envelope onto Anko's knee, he slid a small, translucent piece of paper out of the remaining one. Kakashi was focused on not ripping the letter as he unfolded it slowly. He couldn't wait to get the thing back where he could protect it. It was a goddamn collectible after all. That one time Konoha succeeded in fucking over the Hyūga. But Kakashi could guarantee it would not be the last time.

Showing the contents of the letter to Sasuke, his entire mind was concentrated on reading his former pupil. On relishing color leaving his already pale face at the recognition of his father's writing. It was messy. And Sasuke clearly remembered his father's even, elegant hand. He must have been nervous when he had been writing that letter.

"Look at the date, Sasuke."

Two days before the massacre. The letter had been signed by Uchiha Fugaku's hand two days before the massacre.

Uchiha Fugaku had written to that Hyūga Hiruka guy. Sasuke's father, Sasuke's proud, haughty father, unwavering leader, cold ruler had stooped so low as to write to that man whom Sasuke had never even seen.

"Look to whom Danzō's scroll had been addressed to."

But he did not. His eyes remained fixed on the words of the letter. He did not have the strength, his mind running a thousand miles an hour, to make out each and every word. Yet, he understood the content. But one passage struck him.

And if this village succeeds in submitting one clan of worth and importance to its will, there will be no protection, no guarantee of it not doing so with all. In such circumstances, what are clan rivalries, what are petty disputes and disagreements? In such circumstances, there is nothing but equality and brotherhood. And should one not expect a brother's helping hand in facing so cunning an enemy?

A lump appeared at the base of Sasuke's throat. He was aware his father had known. He was aware he had prepared. But could not have imagined where the blow would come from. What he had however never known was that he had begged, begged like a dog, fallen onto his knees in front of anyone. Bile rushed back into his mouth and he did his best to swallow it. One did not know what pain was before beholding such complete and utter demise. Pain was not loss. Pain was humiliation.

"Look to whom Danzō's scroll had been addressed to", the woman in front of him prompted Sasuke urgently.

Mechanically his fingers curled over the scroll once again. In one flick of the wrist, the thing rolled up and locked closed. Slowly, his now wide eyes slid to the lock on the scroll. He could easily recognize the kanji on it now.

Hyūga.

Hiruka.

"Your father's pride has precipitated your clan to its downfall. Why write to this man who was not even the leader of the clan, tell me, Sasuke? Because he was the true leader in the shadows? Because he had more power to bestow? Uchiha Fugaku knew of the strain between Hyūga Hiruka and his leading son. He knew better than anyone that he was gambling sending this letter to that decrepit piece of fucking shit. While he had a sure race horse right at hand. Had he send this letter to Hyūga Hiashi, he would have been sure to receive reinforcements, if only for the pleasure the Hyūga leader would have felt at your father's begging. Three Hyūga men would have been enough, Sasuke, to, if not neutralize Itachi, at least make such a fucking mess that even the Sandaime would have seen it and been forced acting on it."

Yeah, he was finally getting it, Kakashi could see. It was time to wake Uchiha Sasuke up from his deep slumber. Three men, well-chosen would have been more than enough. And Kakashi knew very well who those three men would have been. Young at the time. Idealistic. Blindly loyal to their leader.

Hyūga Hoheto, experienced shinobi, with a fast mind and a good knowledge of them dangerous criminals. Hyūga Iroha, so sceptical as to be impervious to genjutsu and as cool as an iceberg. And Hyūga Kō, the Bunke dog, the head of the Hyūga Internal Security Squad who would have secured the perimeter so well that not even the great Uchiha Itachi would have penetrated it with ease.

"But no. Not Uchiha Fugaku. He hated Hyūga Hiashi from the first day they had met at the academy, decades before. Everyone knew so. He had preferred to see his clan reduced to rubbles rather than ask him for help. He had preferred to turn to a man who barely a day before had struck a deal with none other than Danzō. A deal that would ensure the Hyūga would take over all of your family's positions of power in the village. Obviously, tou-san hadn't known as much."

Anko's eyes, that had never held any light in them, one of Orochimaru's heirlooms, glistened dangerously. A strange feeling slithered into Kakashi's soul. Was this what they had all felt? What Danzō, Orochimaru and the likes of them had felt? Or maybe the Senju, the Sarutobi? He did not know. He did not know that this sensation warm and cold, numbing and all-conquering was a drug. And that in the end, the only ones that would be able relate to him were the members of the very clan he so desperately wanted to neutralize.

"That Hyūga Hiruka is a sight to behold, really. Something else. Your parents hadn't even started rigidifying that the asshole had his lawyers planted right in Hiruzen's office. Pulling out laws from hundreds of years ago regulating how much territory a clan can have. Arguing that since the Uchiha clan did not exist anymore, all of its arable soil and training grounds away from Konoha's outskirts were open to speculation. They got it all, Sasuke. All of it, goddammit. It was hilarious. You were there, lying in foetal position, a few feet from your parents' lifeless bodies. While the Hyūga were looting your inheritance. Mind you, you should say thanks to good, old Sandaime. He succeeded in finding a way to keep them out of the Uchiha compound. They wanted that too."

Kakashi knew he was walking the line separating man and husk of flesh. He knew he was standing on that blurry frontier. And yet, he could not back down. He could not let humanity overpower him at that instant. When he was so close. He was not a sensei anymore. He was not a Obito's teammate and friend. He was Hōkage. A position that held no true honor to it. Whatever the likes of Uzumaki Naruto might have thought.

"Should've seen Hiashi's face when the daimyō congratulated him for his good luck. How had he put it, again? The sun only rises on the East because the Hyūga mercifully chose to install themselves there. The almighty Hyūga leader hadn't even known he'd just been shafted by his own father. Funny, ah, Sasuke? This being said, I cannot imagine him complaining all that much at the thought of all the Kusa territory he just got for cheap."

What was he doing?! What was Kakashi doing?! He who had always stood tall and righteous. Selling his honor, his pride off. What for?! For Konoha? For the world? Was it truly for the good of all that he was doing it? Or was it a personal revenge? The knowledge that he would never be free unless …

Pedantic as he had always been, Kakashi carefully folded the fragile letter paper back into its envelope, hiding it once again under the folds of Anko's coat. Picking up the sturdier one, he was not as careful as he retrieved that letter. Indifferently, he simply turned it towards Sasuke. Whose eyes slowly lifted from the scroll and, instead of reading what was written on that new letter, pinned Kakashi with a surprised glance. There was no hatred in those obsidian eyes. There was no fire. Only … fear?

Kakashi stopped breathing for a split of an instant. Sasuke, it was Sasuke he was kneeling in front of. Not the Avenger. Sasuke, the boy that had ranked barely above Hyūga Hinata in self-assertiveness. The same boy, Sasuke himself had believed was dead and buried. Well, he was proven wrong.

The few shards of him remaining in that strong, athletic body had swam to the surface and were lifting a hand through the murky waters of all his nightmares. Kakashi should have grasped that hand. He should have pulled Sasuke out of those delusions. Thrown his arms around that boy that had known no family. That had thrown himself at Orochimaru, the Akatsuki, Madara in the belief that power would numb the pain.

Kakashi did not realize that that hand, that desire to bring Sasuke to his heart as a father would have, were his last shots at salvation. And he hesitated. Too late, however. Sasuke's eyes slid to the letter. Signed by Hyūga Hiruka on the very day of the massacre. And the words he read pulled the child in him right back down into the abysses of all his nightmares, letting the monster immerge. Sealing Kakashi's fate.

The true Savior offers His hand to the deformed monster with the same love as to the beautiful child.

Kakashi was no savior. He had stepped into a no-man's land. By one kiss of destiny, he had been transformed from man into husk of flesh.

You reap what you sow.

The words written by Hyūga Hiruka. Addressed to Uchiha Fugaku.

Kakashi did not feel his lips parting again. He did not even hear his own words.

"All these documents were recuperated in Hyūga Hiruka's own chambers. However, this letter is covered in Uchiha Fugaku's fingerprints. In fact, the only fingerprints ever found on it were those of your father and Hyūga Hiruka. It had never been passed around to other members of the Hyūga clan. Or at least, those having touched it were careful enough not to leave traces. Looking through the inventory made after the Uchiha clan massacre, there are no traces of recuperated correspondence between the Uchiha and Hyūga clan. Therefore, a Hyūga had come to pick it up before the arrival of Konoha's forces at the scene. Since the massacre and Konoha's appearance almost coincided, it is to be taken into account that your brother and that Hyūga were in the compound at the same time. Do you fucking get it now, Sasuke?!"

Anko's eyes blazing as those of a religious fanatic, she daringly leaned in, ignoring how distorted Uchiha Sasuke's features were, filled with that hatred that had been his trademark, his mouth twisted into a cruel sneer, mocking himself at his naivety. Her cool breath fanned over his lips as she whispered enticing ideas to him.

"Kill him, Sasuke. Avenge your family. Get rid of Hyūga Hiruka. Wipe your father's humiliation away with his blood. And I will let you leave. July seventh. The Tanabata festival. Hyūga do not worship stars. He will be in the compound. The security in the village will be enhanced. But tourists will be flooding, you'll easily pass unnoticed. It won't be the first time you do something like this. Come to me. I'll show you where to find him. Set Itachi's soul free. Finally."

Later, as they saw Mitarashi Anko emerging from the Uchiha's cell, the ANBU shifted uncomfortably. Looking up at them, an indifferent glow seeping through her eyes, a certain weariness settled in.

"He attacked me. And yet, you did not intervene."

The guard that had waited for her nervously tapped his foot on the stones of the flooring. One of the ANBU, the most courageous, obviously gave an answer that could have cost him his head.

"You didn't holler."

Standing up, she blinked at them. A small tug at the corner of her lips made a smirk appear. Yeah, well …

"Fair enough."

Turning on her heels, she did not wait for the guard that had got her there to show her the way back. In that weariness she was feeling, there was a peculiar calmness. No more strange upheavals, no more unruly emotions. No more unnecessary scruples that made her loins contort and her hand tremble.

How easy it was to step over that imaginary, that faint, that blurry line separating man and husk of flesh. Hyūga Hiruka had to disappear, yes. But not just Hyūga Hiruka. Hyūga in general. From the oldest patriarch to that babe in a Hyūga woman's womb. Uchiha Sasuke had always seen himself as a great liberator. And Kakashi would give him the honor of liberating Konoha from its slavery.

The last thought in Anko's head before she departed, droplets of rain whipping her face, was how to explain to the real Anko why the lining of her coat was ripped. She better think of a story. Something to do with the Hōkage's sexual perversions. That would keep the real her from overthinking too much. Who knew, maybe the Hōkage would even get down and dirty with her because of so little.