A/N:

This was supposed to be the one-shot I promised, but it seems to want to become a story of its own ^_^ Anyway, thanks to Mij who agreed to be my beta-reader. She's helped heaps with improving my chapters, so a HUGE thank you!

Now, on with the story!

Visions Of A Son

Names… names were not important. Sasuke knew that very well, trusting the strange compelling urge within to lead him to the place.

The wind ripped through the trees overhead, sending down a flurry of dark and wet leaves to twine into the midnight darkness of his hair. A small arrogant flick of his fingers sent his bangs flying aside, momentarily revealing electrifying blue eyes against pale skin, only to be hidden once again by the fringe. Cut to the very image of his father, he had been told over and over again.

That arrogance, he was told, was his mother's.

Who were these people, whose only label was mother and father? His parents? Who were his parents? All Sasuke knew was what others had told him; that he was the very image of his father but for the paleness of skin and the long delicate hands of his mother. All he knew of them was that they had left him two gifts, one of which was life itself. Nothing more, nothing less. What he had heard was something entirely different.

However, here in the darkness, he knew names were not important. What was important was the twisting inside him, the pull that his feet could not resist. He could feel the energies, so familiar and yet so alien, calling for him to come.

Calling for him to know.

No one knew where this gift came from. Those closest to his parents argued about it continuously. His father was well-known for his flair in battle; for his ungodly reflexes that made it seem almost as though he was reading his enemy's mind, for his ability to detect others' presence, and his amazing talent to hide whatever he was thinking so his opponents thought they were battling stone. Yet Sasuke knew his father was in turmoil; a fire burned through his father, raging for justice and demanding vengeance. For him to take back something… something precious… That was why he meditated on all things, seeking out that elusive being of peace, calm and serenity.

The call for justice burned through even him, his son. And this no one had told him.

On the other hand, not a lot of people knew about his mother. All they knew about her was that she was a powerful doctor, in the sense that she instinctively knew what was wrong with a patient without them having to tell her. And there was her Touch; it was almost as though she didn't even need medicines to cure people. Some of them claimed to feel a strange warmth emanating from her hands that, once touching their skin, seemed to melt all the pain away.

Perhaps that's why father was drawn to her, Sasuke often mused, perhaps he found she was the only one who could heal his burning pain.

He had been told so much, yet he knew so little…

The echo of his footsteps, well-made runners on rough concrete, shook him out of his thoughts. His pace slowed down as he found himself nearing an alley, and he found the strange urge that had led him there to have almost disappeared.

Is this the place? Uncertain, he looked around. Dank and dirty, with the offending smell of something long dead and buried lurking around the corners, it was a far cry from the leafy emerald parks and sapphire lakes people had told him about.

Did father meet mother here?

He touched a wall gingerly, the well-bred self in him appalled at the slime that seemed to saturate it. Nonetheless, he pressed his palm against it, willing himself to ignore the ooze, the dirt and muck that had far eroded the paint into crumbling brick and mortar.

In his other hand he held a sheathed sword.

"This was your father's." His grandfather Okina – "Old Okina", Sasuke had privately labelled – held an object out to him.

Any words of dismissal died in Sasuke's throat as his pale eyes fell upon the sword. A creation of metal and fire, cooled by water and danced through air, he thought it was the most delicate of all creations he had seen. And the energies he had felt through it were pure, as pure and powerful as the elements that forged it.

Had his father thought the same? Had he really wielded it in battle, famous as he was for it?

He concentrated on sorting through the residing energies in the sword; few people had handled the weapon, so it made his task easier. He inspected each remnant closely as wisps of colour rose to greet him. What he was looking for should be similar to his own aura…

Aha. Sasuke's lips twitched. A smile that spoke of a job well-done glimmered in the night for a moment. He had found it; a red hot flame encased in the coolness of ice. That was what his father's energy felt like – the dazzling explosive power of fire tempered by the cold calculating reasoning of ice. Keeping the energy in hand, he turned his attention to the bricks.

Bricks were good. Bricks were stone, and stone was like steel. Both stood firm against the current of time, both held memories of those that passed however briefly. However, it was easier to pry them from stone than steel, so he was fully confident he could handle it.

A moment's silence passed. A fierce wind whipped his jeans against his legs, grabbing hold of his coat and frantically trying to tug it away.

Leave, he almost heard it say, leave and don't look back.

.oOOo.oOOo.

"Leave now."

A woman, unusually tall for a Japanese woman, pressed herself against the brick wall. Dark eyes wide and frightened, she only saw the man holding a long blade that glinted painfully in the midday sun.

At his feet lay the bodies of three men whose guns were still clenched in their hands. The wall behind him was marked with several bullet holes only a few inches away from his side.

Even without seeing what had happened earlier, Sasuke still knew that the dead men were excellent marksmen. It was just that this man, now sheathing the deadly-looking sword – a kodachi – was just too fast for the bullets to hit.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but think, no one told me Dad was so cool!

In reply to the man's order, the woman cautiously took a step away from the wall, which meant taking one closer to the killer. Now she masked her fear with a haughty toss of her head, sending her long black hair over her shoulder. "Or you will kill me like you killed them?"

A shake of the head and eyes as blue as the sky above peered past long bangs. The rich timbre of his voice announced him to be young, much too young to know how to despatch three men with such ruthless efficiency, "Just leave before someone comes to claim you."

"I am a doctor. I cannot leave people who need help."

The conviction in her tone earned her a sceptic arch of his eyebrow, "You would help those who tried to harm you?"

She met his gaze with one of her own, prideful youth clearly showing in her delicately beautiful features. "Of course."

.oOOo.oOOo.

The vision vanished as fast as it had come.

His hand dropped away from the wall, moisture and muck dripping off his fingers onto the pavement below. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Frustration welled up inside him. Fragments! He had only fragments when what he wanted was the entire picture. The vision had only whetted his urge to sneak out into the dark world and find out the truth about his parents.

No more listening. No more relying on others to catch glimpses of what his parents were like. He wanted to know. He wanted to know if his father was as ruthless as people told him he was. He wanted to know if his mother was as beautiful and as cunning as people told him she had been. He wanted to know how they met, how they had come to rely on each other. He wanted to know how two people could fall for the other when they were both so different. He wanted to know so much!

It didn't matter. He let himself take a step away from the wall, sword still in hand. It didn't matter because this was only the beginning. He had to remind himself of that. Everything would come to him. All he needed was patience. A thorough rinse of his hands with the water bottle he had brought with him and he was off, going back onto the main road to stroll among the shadows that resided there.

All he had to do was focus and trust his intuition to lead him where he needed to go next. To where the next vision would be presented to him.

This was the second gift his parents had given him, that no one knew which of them gave to him. The gift of Sight*.

As Sasuke allowed his feet to once again have free rein, he allowed his mind to dwell. The trick with energies and tracking them was not to think about it too much; it took only a moment's doubt for the logical mind to override intuition, and once that happened it would take time before the logical mind could be placated to take the back seat once again.

Right now, to distract his mind, he thought of his mother.

The vision had shown him a woman he had often seen in photos. There were very few scattered here and there in the house, all of which he had eagerly grabbed to store in his small box of memories.

Right now, he held one grasped in his hand. He could sense the familiar energy patterns unique to his father. Had his father held this photo the way he had? It was the best one he had found; his mother's slim form curled up in an oversized black leather chair, dozing by a dying fireplace. Several large books were scattered around the foot of the chair while one huge tome lay open on her lap. It was a peaceful picture.

He wondered who took the photo. His father? Old Okina? Who knew who else had wandered the halls of the house his parents had lived in?

But certainly, and his grip tightened onto the lone photo, there was a lot of love in this picture. And try as he might, he could not pick up anything else.

Now he looked up. His feet had taken him to a street, wide and mostly empty. The few people who were there nodded to him. They knew Sasuke, and if anything, they knew his sword. Here was his father's legacy; all the gangs littering the streets of Japan recognised and respected his father. As his son, he was practically guaranteed protection anywhere, anytime.

Which was a good thing, considering that though the kodachi was his, he had no talent whatsoever in wielding the deadly weapon. His hopelessness was a source of eternal vexation for Old Okina, who had once asked Sasuke whether or not he wanted the words 'stick this end into enemy' engraved on the blade.

Back to the task at hand. Sasuke found himself kneeling down onto the pavement, the coldness of the cobbles seeping through the thick denim of his jeans. He let his fingertips brush the surface of the stone, silently pleading it to let him through…

People. He sensed a lot of people milling around. But they were there only as shades of grey; drab impressions against the brilliance of the morning sunlight.

Something directly in front of him caught his attention - a slender leg clad in simple white jeans, crossing itself daintily over its partner. A chink of ceramic above suggested someone stirring a cup of something.

He raised his head, barely registering the table he passed through as he righted himself. He took a deep appreciative sniff – tea. A particularly bright tang that assailed the senses with the cheery scent of… orange? Or was that the sharpness of peppermint? It was hard to tell, in this vision.

One thing's for sure though. Mother had high standards.

His mother's voice shook him out of his own thoughts, "Do you make it a habit to take captives out for coffee?" Her tone was teasing, her words chosen to get a rise out of the man sitting across her.

His father.

Realization struck him then; here was the chance to see his parents close up!

He took a tentative step closer to the silent man still seated and leaning back against the chair. He picked out each feature, blue-grey eyes widening as he realized each was a mirror-image of his own, if only slightly older.

Right now his father must be only a few years older than himself.

"You know, Aoshi, it'd be nice if you could answer me once in a while." The resignation in the woman's tone told him she didn't expect miracles; she was merely venting.

Sasuke watched as his father calmly took a sip of the coffee. Black, he noticed, with the pungent bitter aroma that only a double shot short espresso could achieve.

"No wonder you never sleep," the woman continued, her cherry red lips pursed into a hard line whilst chocolate brown eyes glared with disapproval at his cup, "You keep on poisoning yourself with that slop."

"One would think you would stop nagging," came Aoshi's quiet reply.

A brilliant grin then that illuminated her beautiful features, and it was obvious all her previous disapproval was for show. Voice sweet, "Purely to start conversation, I assure you."

He set his cup down carefully. Youthful though his features were, any possible expressions he could have had were tempered by his icy exterior. Now however, the ice melted a little. "Megumi…" he turned his cup slightly, his eyes fixed on her face to watch her expression, "Do you wish to be a doctor?"

Her answer was immediate, "What does that have to do with this outing?"

"Everything."

A small moment of contemplation, and Sasuke realized he was holding his breath. There was a strange fluttering in his stomach, a twisting that made him feel nauseated. He chewed his lip nervously; these emotions were not his. Whose was it?

He glanced at his mother. Passion and fire lit up her face, and it was obvious she was suspicious of the question put to her. No, not her.

He looked to his father. Was this emotion his? But he was so calm! So collected! How could this horrible nervousness be his?

Sasuke realized it then with a start; his father was as good with masks as he was with his swords. This must be the source of the ice in his energies.

"Megumi," and here the nervousness kicked it up a notch, "I'm willing to fund your medical degree, and any degrees you wish to pursue following that."

She blinked the astonishment away, and the only thing betraying her shock was her sudden tight grip on her cup. "You want to sponsor me?"

A deep breath from his father. "Yes."

Sasuke watched her closely, though he didn't miss seeing his father do the same. It was clear she was struggling with the decision, extremely obvious that though a part of her wanted it, another was rejecting it flat out. Setting down her own cup, she steepled her fingers, not meeting Aoshi's eyes. Her comeback was bitter. "With the dirty money of the OniwaBanshuu? So you people will lay further claim on me?" Anger lent it a faint tremble as she fought to keep her emotions in check.

Sasuke saw his father's features harden. He felt the tenseness of Aoshi's words as he enunciated each word, "I am sponsoring you. Not the OniwaBanshuu"

He sensed this was an old argument, from the weariness in his father's aura. From his mother however, he felt a rage building up. So much so it was almost a physical presence.

Mother was such a passionate woman. How could she have ended up with a glacier like father?

The cups atop the table rattled as she set her palm down with a bit more force than necessary, "And the difference is?" Now she met Aoshi's eyes, and the fury in hers would have driven a lesser man to look away, to mumble apologies and crawl back into the woodwork.

Not his father though. Did Sasuke just see his father's eyes narrow?

"This is money from my inheritance, not Kanryuu's dirty tricks." Calm, cool, collected. That was Shinomori Aoshi to a T.

The two regarded each other carefully. Sasuke saw his mother open her mouth, making what was most likely a scathing remark, but he couldn't hear it.

Then he saw nothing.

.oOOo.oOOo.

Sauke let his fingertips trail across the cobbles, the dampness of the stone barely registering. The vision had faded slowly, leaving him cold and lonely on the empty sidewalk.

The urge that had led him across dank alleys and dark roads had vanished, and he knew there would be no more searching tonight.

A/N:

That's all for this chapter. Read it and tell me if you liked it!

Sight* - originally I called this Second Sight, but then the term usually refers to the ability to foresee into the future.