Dead To The World

Summary: There was a reason why Itachi told him to hate him.

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"Has he spoken or moved yet?" A sigh. A subconscious adjusting of the medic-nin's glasses.

"You've asked the same question every week for the past three years, Hokage-sama. I'm sorry but the answer remains the same. There has been no change in his condition." The aged man's wrinkled features appeared even older, weary.

"Thank you for looking after him for all this time. As much as I hate to say so, I think it would have been kinder if he didn't survive." The silver-haired doctor turned towards the frail figure facing the open window, his ghostly skin nearly camouflaging with the sterile white of the hospital sheets. His dark hair was limp and as lifeless as the deadened glint in his coal black eyes, eyes that showed nothing but blankness.

Uchiha Sasuke had, in a way, died with his clan.

"It's too bad… he had so much potential." The whispered words were inaudible, but more wistful than sad, the speaker's expression hidden behind glinting glass. "But it is convenient, I suppose." A suspicious glance was directed to the doctor.

"Did you say something?" A wince. The doctor should have been more careful.

"No, of course not, Hokage-sama."

"I'll see you next week, Yakushi-kun." The old man exited the room, appeased.

The man sat down next to the expressionless boy, his calloused hand stroking the raven-black locks.

Tomorrow, Orochimaru-sama will have his new body with no complications. After all, no one cared enough to stop him and Sasuke-kun was unlikely to complain.