Wow, sorry about that long hiatus. I've been busy and then, I got sick.
You know, Mongolian death flu kind of sick. I'm still recovering, so
forgive for the delayed updating. But I loved all the reviews. Every
single one of them made me want to write faster and more – hence this
chapter through the haze of fever.
Warning: yaoi, blood, violence, the usual.
Disclaimer: not that it's needed, but no, I do not own Naruto.
Notes: I'm not very good with Itachi, I'm sure of that. I'm not familiar with his character enough, so bear with me. Also, as you probably figured out by now, I don't have a beta. All this is first draft stuff, I don't even read it over before I post.. bad habit, but I'm rather impatient like that. So excuse the grammar mistakes and other mistakes that pop up, let me know if anything is truly glaring.
--
In the Past, In the Future
He was seven years old.
He ran through the moonlit streets of Konoha on soft, sandal-clad feet, his arms pumping in time with his legs. The barely heard slaps of his soles rang hollowly in the empty streets and his puffs of breath came faster with each step. The hour was late, almost midnight, several hours past curfew, and he knew if he didn't get home soon, his parents would most certainly give him a scolding that he would not soon forget.
The boy grimaced through his burning lungs as he picked up his pace. He was rather peeved, really, that he had to actually run back to his family's compound on his feet. Only if his completely brilliant brother would teach him some of the cool ninjutsu he knew, he would not have to rush through these deserted streets on his too short legs, gasping for oxygen. But when he had asked his older brother for pointers, he had gotten the same answer as always: when you're older.
That, of course, meant 'when you finally have your Sharingan,' but no one said it as such. But he knew, even at the tender age of seven, that without his family's talent running through his eyes, he could not hope to learn the things Itachi had known since he was three.
His pace dropped as he sulked a little. It was not his fault that Itachi had gotten his Sharingan at an unprecedented age of three, nor was it his fault that his own had yet to manifest. His father had assured him that most Uchiha with the blood limit ability achieved it when they became ten or so and therefore, he should not be so anxious. Yet, how could he not feel the pressure, the expectation from his parents, his entire clan, when his own brother had exceeded all hopes and dreams of their powerful family at an age when most children still had to wear diapers and a nappy?
Although, he had to admit, there was more admiration than jealousy for his brother. One day soon, his father would step down as the head of the Uchiha clan and pass the title onto his brother. The only reason it had not happened so far was that Itachi was only seventeen, and even though his talents and skills far surpassed anyone in the clan, he was still young. The clan leaders had decided that without wisdom that came with age, Itachi, as strong as he was, could not be a leader.
Not that he knew what that meant, only that Itachi would serve the clan until their father resigned or died. Death was more of a possibility in this age of war, but Sasuke prayed for otherwise. Just the other week, his clan had lost a member to the war, a second cousin or perhaps even a first cousin, Sasuke could not be sure, and they had all attended the mass funeral. Too many died for single funerals to be held, so Konoha got together once a month to mourn those who died in the war.
Once a month, Sasuke learned the price of war.
The moon shied behind the cloud cover, and Sasuke could no longer clearly make out the streets. Had he not been so familiar with these twisty turns, he would surely have run into a wall by now, but his nightly excursions were too many for him to have lost his way. Just because he did not have the Sharingan did not mean he could not train himself to the point where it would color his eyes red. His father probably knew that he snuck out after dinner every day to train by himself, that he broke curfew despite the Hokage's strict ruling, but no one had scolded him too harshly. The most he had gotten was for him to reflect on his mistake and try not to do it again, but that was when he had made it in by eleven at the latest.
Tonight, if he didn't hurry, he might actually get into trouble.
A right, go fifty two paces, then a soft left, forty seven paces, a hop and a jump over the broken wall, eighty nine paces, a left, sharp left and then an immediate right.
His family compound would appear in one more turn and Sasuke swallowed thickly. He had nothing to offer his father except an apology for being so late, maybe excuse himself for training without adult guidance. What else could he say? Even though his motives were right, his methods were not.
All thoughts of excuses and his punishment disappeared the moment he turned right and saw the bodies.
People he recognized lay in unsightly clumps all along the street leading to the door of the Uchiha compound, blood carpeting the pavement, seeping through the cracks and pooling in the shallow rain gutters. To his left, his aunt, a woman who had always had the time to make him a snack. To his right, his cousin, older than him by only a few weeks, the one who had just realized his blood limit ability a day ago. Sasuke let his feet carry him through the gruesome street, his eyes taking in the people who had been alive at dinner, the people who had been his family.
His uncles, cousins, aunts, they all lay still on the street. Some had weapons in their hands, some with defensive wounds on their arms. Through the haze of shock, a calm voice that sounded like his brother spoke, telling him that this had been a surprise attack by a small number of very skilled ninjas. Sasuke only stared, his eyes wide and glassy, as he carefully walked through to the door of his home, his feet avoiding the outstretched arms and legs but unable to sidestep the blood that painted the ground red.
Was everyone.. dead?
"Mother!"
A scream tore out of him and he ran, no longer feeling his limbs or his tears that started to pour, into the house and through the rooms.
"Father!"
Room after room, nothing but corpses of people he knew and loved, nothing but the stench of blood and death. Sasuke fell when he slipped on a puddle of blood, his arms stretching out before him to catch his body only to splash in more blood. How much blood was there? How much more of THIS was there?
"Itachi!"
His voice shattered and he sat, oblivious to the blood soaking in through his pants and shirt, not feeling the stickiness of congealing mass on his skin. His glazed eyes reflected the dim light of the moon coming in through the windows, tears mixed with blood on his face. What in the world..
Shakily, Sasuke stood. His head swam and his stomach boiled, but he managed to stagger back outside, to the garden in the back where his parents used to hold picnics for him and his brother. The quiet rustle of the willow, the soft scent of sakura, the calming chortle of the little stream.. surely, if he went there, this nightmare would be over and he would wake up to the warm, loving arms of his mother.
Surely.
The garden looked as beautiful as it always did, the moon washing over the delicate trees and his mother's subtle artistic touches. Yet, the bodies that lay on the ground marred the beauty, the pond with the little stream now running red, and standing over this scene was a man with a long sword in his hand, his eyes gleaming like the blood that covered every surface.
Itachi.
"Itachi," Sasuke breathed, his voice a broken thread, "what is this?"
His feet carried him by the still body of his mother who looked to the heavens with empty eyes, over the body of his father that lay face down upon the ground, to the only person besides him who lived. His dark eyes could see the splatters of blood, the gore that covered his brother and his sword, and his mind could only jump to one conclusion.
"Did you get the people who did this?"
Sasuke kept walking towards his brother and would have collapsed sobbing in his arms if it wasn't for the sharp pain in his shoulder. Disbelieving, Sasuke turned his eyes to the widening stain of blood that now graced the seam of his shirt and automatically raised his hand to staunch its tide. Belatedly, his brain connected the sequence of events and before this onslaught of unbelievable circumstances, his legs gave out and he sat heavily on the grassy ground.
His mother, dead. His father, dead. Everyone in the family, dead. Itachi, alive and unharmed, holding the sword that had just inflicted this wound on his shoulder.
Oh gods, Sasuke cried, is this what I think it is?
"Little brother," he heard, the voice like jelly through water, "never forget what you have seen this night."
He raised his head to look at his brother, but all he could see was the red. Red of blood, of the Sharingan, the crimson flood that his brother had unleashed.
"One day, you will come looking for me for what I did tonight. One day, you will seek vengeance upon me and have it." Itachi put the point of his sword against Sasuke's throat, not drawing blood, but denting skin. "Before then, you must grow stronger, must grow to hate me more. You must become an avenger, Sasuke little brother."
The words rang even after his brother had gone, long after the special forces came to his house and cleaned everything up. The scene, the words, they repeated in his head over and over until he could no longer bear it, until his head exploded with it all.
--
Sasuke sat up, breath hitching in his chest, his head whirling from the last vestiges of images. Sweat dripped off his forehead, plastering his fine, dark hair onto his face, covering his wide eyes from the darkness in his tent. His heart hammered like a trapped bird, thrashing against his ribcage enough to burst out, and his mouth tasted like ashes.
The dream – or was it a memory – had been so vivid, more alive than when it had happened all those years ago. Why, after all these years, had that dream come to him so strongly and unexpectedly? He had faced Itachi and slept through many nights afterwards without dreaming about his brother or the events that had changed his life, but this night, a night that was not special by any means, had been the one that had brought the nightmare to life.
Thankfully, the ones who shared his tent, Shikamaru and Naruto, were out on watch and had not witnessed this moment of utter weakness in him. It was enough that he and Naruto were not on good terms, mostly because he could not apologize to the blonde wonder, but to show him that he had nightmares? Naruto would scoff at his weakness, laugh at him because he's always searching for weakness in him, and maybe, worse than all those, sympathize with him.
He'd rather Naruto laugh and poke fun at him than pity him.
Soon, the nightmare faded and his sweat dried, but his heart did not stop its mad thumping. He had to calm down, banish the fear and the pain underneath the cold mask of vengeance, or he'd spend the rest of the night shivering and then go through his assigned watch half awake. That would not do, especially now that he knew how much he had to grow and train before he could face Itachi again.
Sasuke got up from his cot, shoving aside the blanket that stuck to his bare chest, and wobbled to the wash basin set up by the flap of the tent. The cool water served to wake him up fully and wash away the last of the visions.
'I can't go back to sleep,' Sasuke mused, 'but I can't go out for watch. Naruto is out there still.'
A wry smile twisted his lips as he thought of the sunny haired boy that took up the time in his head not occupied by revenge. Ever since Naruto had awoken from the coma and he had said things he regretted, he had not had the courage to face the boy and talk to him. For some unknown reason, when Naruto entered his range of awareness, he caused his heart to pound and hands to sweat, turning him into a squirmy ball of nervousness. Therefore, instead of embarrassing himself by trying to apologize to Naruto or strike up a conversation with him as if nothing had happened, he had avoided the blue eyed one assiduously, to the point where he knew Naruto's schedule better than his just so that he did not have to cross paths with him.
'Okay, two hours to shake this off. What do I do for two hours?'
As if answering his silent question, the tent flap opened with a quiet slither and a figure walked in, his messy mop of blond hair resisting the call of gravity and his blue eyes startled to see him awake and standing.
"What are you doing awake?"
"What are you doing here?"
Naruto and Sasuke stared at each other through the dimly lit darkness in surprise and wariness as the questions rang out simultaneously. Neither of them backed down, this was the first time they had spoken to each other in some time, but neither wanted to say anything else either. It would be something like a tacit admission of defeat if they looked away first or answered the question before the other, and even though the moment was horribly awkward, they remained as they were, standing and staring.
Five minutes passed without a twitch of a muscle, ten minutes passed without an audible sound. Then, as if realizing that the whole situation was as ridiculous as it seemed, Naruto let out a chuckle, relaxing his shoulders and smiling genuinely.
"So," Naruto began, his voice trembling with mirth, "how the hell did we come to this?"
"This?" Sasuke ordered the madly fluttering butterflies to cease their movements. "What do you mean?"
Naruto snorted, the sound ungraceful yet so fitting. "Don't play dumb, asshole. You're a bright guy. I mean.." He paused, trying to say what had been playing around in his head for a while without sounding bitter or angry. "I mean, this. The whole not being able to talk to each other and shit."
Oh, that this.
"We're talking now." Sasuke raised his hands palms out as if in truce or in exasperation. Naruto wasn't sure which. "Besides, wasn't it more peaceful without us arguing all the time?"
True enough, without the two of them constantly pestering each other, the camp had seemed more peaceful. Or at least, as peaceful as a battle-camp could get in the middle of a war. However, that did not mean that it had been good in any case. After denying it for a long time and arguing against the stupid voice in the back of his brain insisting that he talk to Sasuke before they got killed in some skirmish, Naruto had come to the conclusion that indeed, he had missed the dark haired youth. To be honest, he had missed him a little too much.
"Look, Sasuke, I don't know about you, but I thought we were getting to be friends, you know?" Naruto did not miss the ever subtle flinch that washed over Sasuke's face at the word, but he bullied on, ignoring the strange pang in his chest. "Sure, we started off being dicks to each other, but I thought that was like.." Naruto scratched his head, the words escaping him the longer he rambled. "Like.. a foundation. Yeah, a foundation for our friendship."
"You think fighting all the time is basis for friendships?" Sasuke raised his eyebrow until it crawled beneath his forehead protector. "Isn't part of being friends getting along?"
"Shit, we got along, didn't we?" Naruto huffed and set his facial features to pout. "Besides, how the hell am I supposed to know what friends are like? You're my first friend." Naruto wrinkled his forehead in thought and then corrected himself. "Or at least, I thought you were."
Sasuke had the grace to look abashed, but he kept silent. He did not know what to say, even now.
"Yeah, I guess that about covers it." What had he expected, that Sasuke would say that they were friends? When would he finally let go of the little bastard hope that kept him from realizing the fact that no one wanted to be friends with him? "I gotta get going."
Hastily, Naruto brushed by Sasuke, picked up a couple of shuriken off his cot, his original goal in coming back to the tent, and made for a graceful exit. However, Sasuke had different ideas and before Naruto could leave, he latched onto the blonde's arm with a grip that would have left bruises if it weren't for the quick healing abilities natural to Naruto.
"I just.." Sasuke sighed, unable to look at the blonde in his stupefied face, "I just didn't know how to say I was sorry."
The sound of Naruto's jaw dropping was followed immediately by an unintelligible gurgle that could have been "What?"
"I didn't mean to say those things." Hell, he had said he was sorry, in a way, so what was the harm in saying the rest of the things on his mind? "Then I didn't know how to take it back. After a while, it was just easier avoiding you."
If Naruto had not been staring at the dark haired genius as he spoke, he may have doubted that it really was Sasuke speaking to him.
"Itachi.." Sasuke swallowed, his throat dry with nervousness, "my brother. That is, you know of the Uchiha massacre, right?"
Naruto nodded, not trusting his voice, but realized that since Sasuke was looking at anything other than him, he might not have seen the gesture. Therefore, he manfully let out a warbling sound that he hoped came out as a 'yes.'
"So you know that my entire clan was wiped out in one night."
Another whimpering sound and Sasuke finally looked up to see Naruto's face etched in shock and a weird sense of anticipation. The sunny ninja was really listening to him, like he cared about what came out of his mouth.
It gave him the courage to say what he should have said thirteen days, twelve hours and nine minutes ago. Not that he was counting.
"My brother is the one who did it."
Sasuke watched as Naruto's mouth formed an 'oh' of understanding and surprise. Well, there, his cards were all on the table. The ball was in Naruto's court, it was now entirely up to the blonde to respond to the new information.
"So," Naruto said when he could trust his voice not to crack, "your brother wants to kill off the Uchiha clan. Even you."
"Yeah."
"Then, why didn't he do it when he killed everyone else?" A hint of confusion entered Naruto's voice as he considered the logistics. If Itachi wanted to kill everyone of the Uchiha clan and had achieved most of that goal in one night, what had convinced him not to kill the last one, the genius one?
"I'm not sure." Frustration and hatred boiled up in Sasuke as he thought about that dream, that night and his brother's merciless taunts not too long ago. "No one can figure him out, our father couldn't even fathom him when he was.."
Naruto said nothing, waiting for Sasuke to put himself together so that he could say whatever it was that was weighing him down. Somehow, even though he had never had friends before, even though no one had ever confided in him until now, he knew that silence was the best thing to give Sasuke right now.
"He told me to become an avenger." Sasuke finally said, the words painted in the colors of loathing. "He told me never to forget and to avenge."
"So, are you an avenger?"
"Yes."
"Why are you being the thing that he told you to be?" Sasuke would never do anything someone else told him to do, that was just part of who he was. So why was he?
A humorless laugh escaped Sasuke's lips before he could rein it back. "What else can I be?"
Naruto shrugged, the movement letting him know that Sasuke still held him by the arm. "You can be Sasuke," he replied, his voice gentle and soothing, but with a lilt of steel beneath it.
"Sasuke, huh." Unbidden, Sasuke's eyes softened and his hand that held Naruto in a bruising grip gentled, traveling up to the blonde's shoulder then to his cheek to cup it gently. "Sasuke is an avenger. That's all there is to it, because that day, Itachi turned me into the person that I am."
A thick swirl of emotions – pain at the forefront – swam in Naruto's eyes before he smiled to cover it. "As far as I know, Itachi didn't turn you into this asshole I know."
Sasuke smiled back at Naruto, tremulous and slight, but still smiled. How had he managed to avoid Naruto for so long without having lost his mind?
"I may be an asshole, but at least I'm not an idiot."
The blonde's smile grew wider and Sasuke let his thumb graze the corner of that blazing grin that even the darkness of the night could not hide. The last two weeks of avoidance and hurt feelings dissipated with that simple movement and for the first time in a long while, their smiles turned genuine and their eyes reflected the change.
"Hey, Sasuke.."
The dark eyed boy didn't let Naruto finish, only nodding and continuing to rub the cheek that burned so hotly under his fingertips.
"We are." Sasuke said simply, and for a short time, the world seemed most wondrous.
--
Uchiha Itachi sat in a chair of canvas and wood, leaning back against it as the person in front of him – what was his name again? – spoke to him of battle plans for the next big step in this war. He only paid half an attention to the babbling fool who served as a liaison between him and the bastard who wanted to conquer the world. As far as he was concerned, the only thing he had to do was make sure that no one got near his brother except for him. The only one who had rights to Sasuke was he and he alone.
His usually expressionless face contorted slightly before smoothing out as he thought of his little brother. The boy had grown, of course he would have, it had been eight years after all. He was stronger than he had first anticipated, but still, it wasn't enough, not nearly enough to fulfill the plans in his head, the plans that no one but he knew. The kid had acquired the Sharingan somewhere along the way, but not the complete version, his right hand companion seemed to be the Demon Bound, but not at full potential.
Time was running short and everything was coming up.. short.
Damn it all to hell.
The fool continued to ramble about the plans he already knew and he let him, knowing that if he kicked him out before he was done, he would have to deal with the bastard. Not that he couldn't, after all, it was rather conclusive that Itachi was more powerful than the leader of Sound, but he hated the man.
If he was a man.
Shaking off the thoughts of what he would like to do the bastard, Itachi coldly replayed the next step in the war in his head. It was a daring attack, something that even he had to admire for its audacity and genius. No one from Fire country would anticipate it, even after that surprise attack on the fifth line, and he was pretty sure that practically everyone on the side of Sound would be shocked into disbelief after they heard the plans the next morning.
After all, it wasn't every day that a plan came up to end the ten year old war.
"Sir, that is all."
Itachi broke away from his musings and dismissed the man with nothing more than a look that could have killed him where he knelt. When the messenger scurried out with hasty bows and he was finally left alone, Itachi let out a rare smile, a smile that he had only shown his baby brother.
'I'm coming home.'
And he would come back to Konoha as he left it, leaving a path of blood and bodies, so that his brother could follow the trail. After all, what was the point of conquering Konoha if his brother wasn't there to welcome him back?
--
A pale hand shades lighter than a corpse opened the curtains to let in the dawning light. The air smelled crisp as it befit autumn and the sky reached up for miles, unattainable and bluer than all the larkspurs that covered the endless fields below. A shadow of a smile ghosted along the face looking out at this landscape. Ten years ago, the view out of his window had been nothing but dust and sand, winds tearing the horizon apart with its harsh brush and the sun so brazen that it had hurt his eyes. Now, his eyes could feast on this beautiful sight, his lungs could breathe in air not tainted with brown, and he could kill without remorse, regret, only with joy in his heart and a constant reminder that he was a strong being.
Life was good. He only did the things he wanted to do, no one forced him to do anything else, no one dared to get in his way.
"Gaara, are you ready?"
Green eyes icier than glaciers pierced through the air and impaled the poor soul who had spoken. She shivered in fear, took a step back out of the room and into the hallway.
"The plan has been revealed. We're-"
With a squeal, she braced herself before a blast of sand shoved her completely out of the room and shut the door in her face. Gasping for breath that had been knocked out of her, she sat and assessed damages to her person, knowing that even when Gaara wasn't serious, he could literally flay the skin off a person without feeling like he had done anything wrong.
Then again, the boy never felt that anything he did was wrong.
She gathered her scattered wits and belongings, not wanting to walk back into that room, but she had been commanded to bring him to the hall. They had missions, damn it, things to do in order to win this war. But, if she walked into that room with Gaara, the red haired boy with no human feelings she was capable of understanding..
Suddenly, the door opened and there he stood, his eyes cold and ringed in darkness, his hair mussed and glittering with sand. On his back, a gourd almost as big as the boy lay strapped, the cork on top the only thing preventing the murderous sand from escaping, and the girl breathed a sigh of relief when no more sand came at her. Once was enough to know it and fear it.
"Gaara, let's go to the hall, everyone is wai-"
"Temari, quiet." The voice, so raspy and dead, made her shut her mouth with an audible click. "Just tell me what I want."
Stifling a sigh and a quake of dread up her spine, she said the only sentence that meant anything to Gaara.
"It's time to kill."
She was gifted with a soft smile that matched the bloodlust in his eyes and that was enough to knock the breath of her for the second time that morning.
--
TBC
--
Warning: yaoi, blood, violence, the usual.
Disclaimer: not that it's needed, but no, I do not own Naruto.
Notes: I'm not very good with Itachi, I'm sure of that. I'm not familiar with his character enough, so bear with me. Also, as you probably figured out by now, I don't have a beta. All this is first draft stuff, I don't even read it over before I post.. bad habit, but I'm rather impatient like that. So excuse the grammar mistakes and other mistakes that pop up, let me know if anything is truly glaring.
--
In the Past, In the Future
He was seven years old.
He ran through the moonlit streets of Konoha on soft, sandal-clad feet, his arms pumping in time with his legs. The barely heard slaps of his soles rang hollowly in the empty streets and his puffs of breath came faster with each step. The hour was late, almost midnight, several hours past curfew, and he knew if he didn't get home soon, his parents would most certainly give him a scolding that he would not soon forget.
The boy grimaced through his burning lungs as he picked up his pace. He was rather peeved, really, that he had to actually run back to his family's compound on his feet. Only if his completely brilliant brother would teach him some of the cool ninjutsu he knew, he would not have to rush through these deserted streets on his too short legs, gasping for oxygen. But when he had asked his older brother for pointers, he had gotten the same answer as always: when you're older.
That, of course, meant 'when you finally have your Sharingan,' but no one said it as such. But he knew, even at the tender age of seven, that without his family's talent running through his eyes, he could not hope to learn the things Itachi had known since he was three.
His pace dropped as he sulked a little. It was not his fault that Itachi had gotten his Sharingan at an unprecedented age of three, nor was it his fault that his own had yet to manifest. His father had assured him that most Uchiha with the blood limit ability achieved it when they became ten or so and therefore, he should not be so anxious. Yet, how could he not feel the pressure, the expectation from his parents, his entire clan, when his own brother had exceeded all hopes and dreams of their powerful family at an age when most children still had to wear diapers and a nappy?
Although, he had to admit, there was more admiration than jealousy for his brother. One day soon, his father would step down as the head of the Uchiha clan and pass the title onto his brother. The only reason it had not happened so far was that Itachi was only seventeen, and even though his talents and skills far surpassed anyone in the clan, he was still young. The clan leaders had decided that without wisdom that came with age, Itachi, as strong as he was, could not be a leader.
Not that he knew what that meant, only that Itachi would serve the clan until their father resigned or died. Death was more of a possibility in this age of war, but Sasuke prayed for otherwise. Just the other week, his clan had lost a member to the war, a second cousin or perhaps even a first cousin, Sasuke could not be sure, and they had all attended the mass funeral. Too many died for single funerals to be held, so Konoha got together once a month to mourn those who died in the war.
Once a month, Sasuke learned the price of war.
The moon shied behind the cloud cover, and Sasuke could no longer clearly make out the streets. Had he not been so familiar with these twisty turns, he would surely have run into a wall by now, but his nightly excursions were too many for him to have lost his way. Just because he did not have the Sharingan did not mean he could not train himself to the point where it would color his eyes red. His father probably knew that he snuck out after dinner every day to train by himself, that he broke curfew despite the Hokage's strict ruling, but no one had scolded him too harshly. The most he had gotten was for him to reflect on his mistake and try not to do it again, but that was when he had made it in by eleven at the latest.
Tonight, if he didn't hurry, he might actually get into trouble.
A right, go fifty two paces, then a soft left, forty seven paces, a hop and a jump over the broken wall, eighty nine paces, a left, sharp left and then an immediate right.
His family compound would appear in one more turn and Sasuke swallowed thickly. He had nothing to offer his father except an apology for being so late, maybe excuse himself for training without adult guidance. What else could he say? Even though his motives were right, his methods were not.
All thoughts of excuses and his punishment disappeared the moment he turned right and saw the bodies.
People he recognized lay in unsightly clumps all along the street leading to the door of the Uchiha compound, blood carpeting the pavement, seeping through the cracks and pooling in the shallow rain gutters. To his left, his aunt, a woman who had always had the time to make him a snack. To his right, his cousin, older than him by only a few weeks, the one who had just realized his blood limit ability a day ago. Sasuke let his feet carry him through the gruesome street, his eyes taking in the people who had been alive at dinner, the people who had been his family.
His uncles, cousins, aunts, they all lay still on the street. Some had weapons in their hands, some with defensive wounds on their arms. Through the haze of shock, a calm voice that sounded like his brother spoke, telling him that this had been a surprise attack by a small number of very skilled ninjas. Sasuke only stared, his eyes wide and glassy, as he carefully walked through to the door of his home, his feet avoiding the outstretched arms and legs but unable to sidestep the blood that painted the ground red.
Was everyone.. dead?
"Mother!"
A scream tore out of him and he ran, no longer feeling his limbs or his tears that started to pour, into the house and through the rooms.
"Father!"
Room after room, nothing but corpses of people he knew and loved, nothing but the stench of blood and death. Sasuke fell when he slipped on a puddle of blood, his arms stretching out before him to catch his body only to splash in more blood. How much blood was there? How much more of THIS was there?
"Itachi!"
His voice shattered and he sat, oblivious to the blood soaking in through his pants and shirt, not feeling the stickiness of congealing mass on his skin. His glazed eyes reflected the dim light of the moon coming in through the windows, tears mixed with blood on his face. What in the world..
Shakily, Sasuke stood. His head swam and his stomach boiled, but he managed to stagger back outside, to the garden in the back where his parents used to hold picnics for him and his brother. The quiet rustle of the willow, the soft scent of sakura, the calming chortle of the little stream.. surely, if he went there, this nightmare would be over and he would wake up to the warm, loving arms of his mother.
Surely.
The garden looked as beautiful as it always did, the moon washing over the delicate trees and his mother's subtle artistic touches. Yet, the bodies that lay on the ground marred the beauty, the pond with the little stream now running red, and standing over this scene was a man with a long sword in his hand, his eyes gleaming like the blood that covered every surface.
Itachi.
"Itachi," Sasuke breathed, his voice a broken thread, "what is this?"
His feet carried him by the still body of his mother who looked to the heavens with empty eyes, over the body of his father that lay face down upon the ground, to the only person besides him who lived. His dark eyes could see the splatters of blood, the gore that covered his brother and his sword, and his mind could only jump to one conclusion.
"Did you get the people who did this?"
Sasuke kept walking towards his brother and would have collapsed sobbing in his arms if it wasn't for the sharp pain in his shoulder. Disbelieving, Sasuke turned his eyes to the widening stain of blood that now graced the seam of his shirt and automatically raised his hand to staunch its tide. Belatedly, his brain connected the sequence of events and before this onslaught of unbelievable circumstances, his legs gave out and he sat heavily on the grassy ground.
His mother, dead. His father, dead. Everyone in the family, dead. Itachi, alive and unharmed, holding the sword that had just inflicted this wound on his shoulder.
Oh gods, Sasuke cried, is this what I think it is?
"Little brother," he heard, the voice like jelly through water, "never forget what you have seen this night."
He raised his head to look at his brother, but all he could see was the red. Red of blood, of the Sharingan, the crimson flood that his brother had unleashed.
"One day, you will come looking for me for what I did tonight. One day, you will seek vengeance upon me and have it." Itachi put the point of his sword against Sasuke's throat, not drawing blood, but denting skin. "Before then, you must grow stronger, must grow to hate me more. You must become an avenger, Sasuke little brother."
The words rang even after his brother had gone, long after the special forces came to his house and cleaned everything up. The scene, the words, they repeated in his head over and over until he could no longer bear it, until his head exploded with it all.
--
Sasuke sat up, breath hitching in his chest, his head whirling from the last vestiges of images. Sweat dripped off his forehead, plastering his fine, dark hair onto his face, covering his wide eyes from the darkness in his tent. His heart hammered like a trapped bird, thrashing against his ribcage enough to burst out, and his mouth tasted like ashes.
The dream – or was it a memory – had been so vivid, more alive than when it had happened all those years ago. Why, after all these years, had that dream come to him so strongly and unexpectedly? He had faced Itachi and slept through many nights afterwards without dreaming about his brother or the events that had changed his life, but this night, a night that was not special by any means, had been the one that had brought the nightmare to life.
Thankfully, the ones who shared his tent, Shikamaru and Naruto, were out on watch and had not witnessed this moment of utter weakness in him. It was enough that he and Naruto were not on good terms, mostly because he could not apologize to the blonde wonder, but to show him that he had nightmares? Naruto would scoff at his weakness, laugh at him because he's always searching for weakness in him, and maybe, worse than all those, sympathize with him.
He'd rather Naruto laugh and poke fun at him than pity him.
Soon, the nightmare faded and his sweat dried, but his heart did not stop its mad thumping. He had to calm down, banish the fear and the pain underneath the cold mask of vengeance, or he'd spend the rest of the night shivering and then go through his assigned watch half awake. That would not do, especially now that he knew how much he had to grow and train before he could face Itachi again.
Sasuke got up from his cot, shoving aside the blanket that stuck to his bare chest, and wobbled to the wash basin set up by the flap of the tent. The cool water served to wake him up fully and wash away the last of the visions.
'I can't go back to sleep,' Sasuke mused, 'but I can't go out for watch. Naruto is out there still.'
A wry smile twisted his lips as he thought of the sunny haired boy that took up the time in his head not occupied by revenge. Ever since Naruto had awoken from the coma and he had said things he regretted, he had not had the courage to face the boy and talk to him. For some unknown reason, when Naruto entered his range of awareness, he caused his heart to pound and hands to sweat, turning him into a squirmy ball of nervousness. Therefore, instead of embarrassing himself by trying to apologize to Naruto or strike up a conversation with him as if nothing had happened, he had avoided the blue eyed one assiduously, to the point where he knew Naruto's schedule better than his just so that he did not have to cross paths with him.
'Okay, two hours to shake this off. What do I do for two hours?'
As if answering his silent question, the tent flap opened with a quiet slither and a figure walked in, his messy mop of blond hair resisting the call of gravity and his blue eyes startled to see him awake and standing.
"What are you doing awake?"
"What are you doing here?"
Naruto and Sasuke stared at each other through the dimly lit darkness in surprise and wariness as the questions rang out simultaneously. Neither of them backed down, this was the first time they had spoken to each other in some time, but neither wanted to say anything else either. It would be something like a tacit admission of defeat if they looked away first or answered the question before the other, and even though the moment was horribly awkward, they remained as they were, standing and staring.
Five minutes passed without a twitch of a muscle, ten minutes passed without an audible sound. Then, as if realizing that the whole situation was as ridiculous as it seemed, Naruto let out a chuckle, relaxing his shoulders and smiling genuinely.
"So," Naruto began, his voice trembling with mirth, "how the hell did we come to this?"
"This?" Sasuke ordered the madly fluttering butterflies to cease their movements. "What do you mean?"
Naruto snorted, the sound ungraceful yet so fitting. "Don't play dumb, asshole. You're a bright guy. I mean.." He paused, trying to say what had been playing around in his head for a while without sounding bitter or angry. "I mean, this. The whole not being able to talk to each other and shit."
Oh, that this.
"We're talking now." Sasuke raised his hands palms out as if in truce or in exasperation. Naruto wasn't sure which. "Besides, wasn't it more peaceful without us arguing all the time?"
True enough, without the two of them constantly pestering each other, the camp had seemed more peaceful. Or at least, as peaceful as a battle-camp could get in the middle of a war. However, that did not mean that it had been good in any case. After denying it for a long time and arguing against the stupid voice in the back of his brain insisting that he talk to Sasuke before they got killed in some skirmish, Naruto had come to the conclusion that indeed, he had missed the dark haired youth. To be honest, he had missed him a little too much.
"Look, Sasuke, I don't know about you, but I thought we were getting to be friends, you know?" Naruto did not miss the ever subtle flinch that washed over Sasuke's face at the word, but he bullied on, ignoring the strange pang in his chest. "Sure, we started off being dicks to each other, but I thought that was like.." Naruto scratched his head, the words escaping him the longer he rambled. "Like.. a foundation. Yeah, a foundation for our friendship."
"You think fighting all the time is basis for friendships?" Sasuke raised his eyebrow until it crawled beneath his forehead protector. "Isn't part of being friends getting along?"
"Shit, we got along, didn't we?" Naruto huffed and set his facial features to pout. "Besides, how the hell am I supposed to know what friends are like? You're my first friend." Naruto wrinkled his forehead in thought and then corrected himself. "Or at least, I thought you were."
Sasuke had the grace to look abashed, but he kept silent. He did not know what to say, even now.
"Yeah, I guess that about covers it." What had he expected, that Sasuke would say that they were friends? When would he finally let go of the little bastard hope that kept him from realizing the fact that no one wanted to be friends with him? "I gotta get going."
Hastily, Naruto brushed by Sasuke, picked up a couple of shuriken off his cot, his original goal in coming back to the tent, and made for a graceful exit. However, Sasuke had different ideas and before Naruto could leave, he latched onto the blonde's arm with a grip that would have left bruises if it weren't for the quick healing abilities natural to Naruto.
"I just.." Sasuke sighed, unable to look at the blonde in his stupefied face, "I just didn't know how to say I was sorry."
The sound of Naruto's jaw dropping was followed immediately by an unintelligible gurgle that could have been "What?"
"I didn't mean to say those things." Hell, he had said he was sorry, in a way, so what was the harm in saying the rest of the things on his mind? "Then I didn't know how to take it back. After a while, it was just easier avoiding you."
If Naruto had not been staring at the dark haired genius as he spoke, he may have doubted that it really was Sasuke speaking to him.
"Itachi.." Sasuke swallowed, his throat dry with nervousness, "my brother. That is, you know of the Uchiha massacre, right?"
Naruto nodded, not trusting his voice, but realized that since Sasuke was looking at anything other than him, he might not have seen the gesture. Therefore, he manfully let out a warbling sound that he hoped came out as a 'yes.'
"So you know that my entire clan was wiped out in one night."
Another whimpering sound and Sasuke finally looked up to see Naruto's face etched in shock and a weird sense of anticipation. The sunny ninja was really listening to him, like he cared about what came out of his mouth.
It gave him the courage to say what he should have said thirteen days, twelve hours and nine minutes ago. Not that he was counting.
"My brother is the one who did it."
Sasuke watched as Naruto's mouth formed an 'oh' of understanding and surprise. Well, there, his cards were all on the table. The ball was in Naruto's court, it was now entirely up to the blonde to respond to the new information.
"So," Naruto said when he could trust his voice not to crack, "your brother wants to kill off the Uchiha clan. Even you."
"Yeah."
"Then, why didn't he do it when he killed everyone else?" A hint of confusion entered Naruto's voice as he considered the logistics. If Itachi wanted to kill everyone of the Uchiha clan and had achieved most of that goal in one night, what had convinced him not to kill the last one, the genius one?
"I'm not sure." Frustration and hatred boiled up in Sasuke as he thought about that dream, that night and his brother's merciless taunts not too long ago. "No one can figure him out, our father couldn't even fathom him when he was.."
Naruto said nothing, waiting for Sasuke to put himself together so that he could say whatever it was that was weighing him down. Somehow, even though he had never had friends before, even though no one had ever confided in him until now, he knew that silence was the best thing to give Sasuke right now.
"He told me to become an avenger." Sasuke finally said, the words painted in the colors of loathing. "He told me never to forget and to avenge."
"So, are you an avenger?"
"Yes."
"Why are you being the thing that he told you to be?" Sasuke would never do anything someone else told him to do, that was just part of who he was. So why was he?
A humorless laugh escaped Sasuke's lips before he could rein it back. "What else can I be?"
Naruto shrugged, the movement letting him know that Sasuke still held him by the arm. "You can be Sasuke," he replied, his voice gentle and soothing, but with a lilt of steel beneath it.
"Sasuke, huh." Unbidden, Sasuke's eyes softened and his hand that held Naruto in a bruising grip gentled, traveling up to the blonde's shoulder then to his cheek to cup it gently. "Sasuke is an avenger. That's all there is to it, because that day, Itachi turned me into the person that I am."
A thick swirl of emotions – pain at the forefront – swam in Naruto's eyes before he smiled to cover it. "As far as I know, Itachi didn't turn you into this asshole I know."
Sasuke smiled back at Naruto, tremulous and slight, but still smiled. How had he managed to avoid Naruto for so long without having lost his mind?
"I may be an asshole, but at least I'm not an idiot."
The blonde's smile grew wider and Sasuke let his thumb graze the corner of that blazing grin that even the darkness of the night could not hide. The last two weeks of avoidance and hurt feelings dissipated with that simple movement and for the first time in a long while, their smiles turned genuine and their eyes reflected the change.
"Hey, Sasuke.."
The dark eyed boy didn't let Naruto finish, only nodding and continuing to rub the cheek that burned so hotly under his fingertips.
"We are." Sasuke said simply, and for a short time, the world seemed most wondrous.
--
Uchiha Itachi sat in a chair of canvas and wood, leaning back against it as the person in front of him – what was his name again? – spoke to him of battle plans for the next big step in this war. He only paid half an attention to the babbling fool who served as a liaison between him and the bastard who wanted to conquer the world. As far as he was concerned, the only thing he had to do was make sure that no one got near his brother except for him. The only one who had rights to Sasuke was he and he alone.
His usually expressionless face contorted slightly before smoothing out as he thought of his little brother. The boy had grown, of course he would have, it had been eight years after all. He was stronger than he had first anticipated, but still, it wasn't enough, not nearly enough to fulfill the plans in his head, the plans that no one but he knew. The kid had acquired the Sharingan somewhere along the way, but not the complete version, his right hand companion seemed to be the Demon Bound, but not at full potential.
Time was running short and everything was coming up.. short.
Damn it all to hell.
The fool continued to ramble about the plans he already knew and he let him, knowing that if he kicked him out before he was done, he would have to deal with the bastard. Not that he couldn't, after all, it was rather conclusive that Itachi was more powerful than the leader of Sound, but he hated the man.
If he was a man.
Shaking off the thoughts of what he would like to do the bastard, Itachi coldly replayed the next step in the war in his head. It was a daring attack, something that even he had to admire for its audacity and genius. No one from Fire country would anticipate it, even after that surprise attack on the fifth line, and he was pretty sure that practically everyone on the side of Sound would be shocked into disbelief after they heard the plans the next morning.
After all, it wasn't every day that a plan came up to end the ten year old war.
"Sir, that is all."
Itachi broke away from his musings and dismissed the man with nothing more than a look that could have killed him where he knelt. When the messenger scurried out with hasty bows and he was finally left alone, Itachi let out a rare smile, a smile that he had only shown his baby brother.
'I'm coming home.'
And he would come back to Konoha as he left it, leaving a path of blood and bodies, so that his brother could follow the trail. After all, what was the point of conquering Konoha if his brother wasn't there to welcome him back?
--
A pale hand shades lighter than a corpse opened the curtains to let in the dawning light. The air smelled crisp as it befit autumn and the sky reached up for miles, unattainable and bluer than all the larkspurs that covered the endless fields below. A shadow of a smile ghosted along the face looking out at this landscape. Ten years ago, the view out of his window had been nothing but dust and sand, winds tearing the horizon apart with its harsh brush and the sun so brazen that it had hurt his eyes. Now, his eyes could feast on this beautiful sight, his lungs could breathe in air not tainted with brown, and he could kill without remorse, regret, only with joy in his heart and a constant reminder that he was a strong being.
Life was good. He only did the things he wanted to do, no one forced him to do anything else, no one dared to get in his way.
"Gaara, are you ready?"
Green eyes icier than glaciers pierced through the air and impaled the poor soul who had spoken. She shivered in fear, took a step back out of the room and into the hallway.
"The plan has been revealed. We're-"
With a squeal, she braced herself before a blast of sand shoved her completely out of the room and shut the door in her face. Gasping for breath that had been knocked out of her, she sat and assessed damages to her person, knowing that even when Gaara wasn't serious, he could literally flay the skin off a person without feeling like he had done anything wrong.
Then again, the boy never felt that anything he did was wrong.
She gathered her scattered wits and belongings, not wanting to walk back into that room, but she had been commanded to bring him to the hall. They had missions, damn it, things to do in order to win this war. But, if she walked into that room with Gaara, the red haired boy with no human feelings she was capable of understanding..
Suddenly, the door opened and there he stood, his eyes cold and ringed in darkness, his hair mussed and glittering with sand. On his back, a gourd almost as big as the boy lay strapped, the cork on top the only thing preventing the murderous sand from escaping, and the girl breathed a sigh of relief when no more sand came at her. Once was enough to know it and fear it.
"Gaara, let's go to the hall, everyone is wai-"
"Temari, quiet." The voice, so raspy and dead, made her shut her mouth with an audible click. "Just tell me what I want."
Stifling a sigh and a quake of dread up her spine, she said the only sentence that meant anything to Gaara.
"It's time to kill."
She was gifted with a soft smile that matched the bloodlust in his eyes and that was enough to knock the breath of her for the second time that morning.
--
TBC
--