Title: Dark Paths
Author: darkskysong
Character/s: Sasuke Uchiha
Noticeable Pairing/s: SasuNaru
Genre: Angst
Rating: T
Warnings: Language, Shounen-ai, Manga spoilers (if you look close enough)
Word Length: 2,623
Summary: Sasuke reflects after two years in the darkness of Orochimaru's lair.
Notes: SasuNaru, you can take it as love or friendship, what makes you happy because I'm not forcing one or the other on you. I think Orochimaru is creepy and it irked me to write OroSasu and OroKabu hints but it was necessary.

This was originally going to be a companion piece to my chapter-fic Hidden Beneath but when I finished it was no longer on my AU timeline. It contains sentiments similar to my Sasuke's in Hidden Beneath but has a very canon timeline.

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Dark Paths

Nothing has changed my desire for power, my revenge against Itachi. Orochimaru knows he can't defeat him individually, and he believes I can not either. I do not disabuse him of his belief as it would not be fitting for the act of the sannin's deception. I've never cared one way or the other about anything directly unrelated to my goal yet when Kabuto mentions transfer preparations, my mind had sometime in the last week made a decision without me. Reality of what Orochimaru would be doing in my body - let alone what the jutsu would do with my soul - catches up with me and I sense disgust right to my core.

My body freezes without my brain's permission but at least my infallible coldness does not twitch an iota from its expected form. A sudden urge tugs at me but I can not simply deny Orochimaru's claim to my flesh right here and now, that's suicide of a different kind. For the first time for the student-follower persona I play, I will demand something that is not my current sensei's attention for training purposes. He won't refuse me, if only for the bastard wants me way too much to give up on me all together. I coat every word slipping from practiced lips with a hard edge to retain the apathetic mask.

"You will not touch, or even think about touching my body until I say, Orochimaru."

Kabuto throws me a scathing look. "You shouldn't talk to Orochimaru-sama in that way."

Mocking laughter rings inside my head for the man before me, I am no one's slave. I abhor the white-haired medical-nin's attitude all together, especially when there are no others around. Kabuto can keep the old shinobi as his filthy, perverted master. I just don't want to see or hear it.

The glare I send him would melt anybody else into a whimpering pile of terrified flesh grovelling at my feet. A genuine threat lurks within my venomous gaze, promising missing limbs the other man won't be able to regenerate if Kabuto dares to cross my path any further than he already has. He is very strong - else Orochimaru wouldn't have kept him around for so long - but even he can not meet my heated stare for longer than a minute and finally averts black eyes to the other in the room.

Orochimaru is sitting where he had previously been while observing my morning practice, silent as death. The chokutō shifts in a stiffened grip against my side and his slitted, golden eyes flick between the sword and my face. The tension in the dark chamber becomes palpable before Orochimaru moves a muscle, flapping a thin and sickly hand at me.

"Fine" he announces in a decisive but lustful tone. A feral grin displays the small fangs that are characteristic of the snake-like old man. It is undoubtedly the warped smile Orochimaru reserves for when he has concluded he will have the victory in the end. "I won't touch you without your permission, Sasuke-kun."

I depart without acknowledging his consent and my composure intact. The pair are left with the sight of my unforgiving back and my deadly tool of preference slipping easily back into its sheath.

The dank and dark tunnels feel like they're is closing in, as if there is no more space and the world decided the corridor is no longer needed. My feet ache as I deny their demands to move faster than the usual casual stroll. No one, and I mean no one, here is going to see me in a state other than absolute control or apathy.

I finally reach the plain wooden panel that leads to the single room given to me in this particular compound when I arrived years ago. Several opulent sets of chambers were offered to me but I had refused them all, instinct telling me accepting any of them would give him one more advantage on me. Soundlessly the key slips from its hidden pocket into the lock and back again as I twist the metal handle. The walls push towards me seeking to confine and suppress my life.

My eyes instinctively rove the chamber, over the sparse belongings and simple bed, because I know both Orochimaru and Kabuto can access my room if they really want to. I don't expect anything to be out of place or look like it had been touched but a reason to hit someone would have released some of the pent-up tension running rampant in my body. Many of the Sound shinobi disrespected my privacy the first half-year of my defection, why couldn't they do it now when I actually need a distraction. Though after what happened the last time I caught someone ransacking my room, I'm not surprised most stay out of my way now. Retribution was quick but not painless. Let's just say he had to develop a one handed modification to his puppetry technique once I had given him a piece of my mind. One of Orochimaru's tips for gaining strength is to retain a fear from everyone else.

Fuck, I don't want to have thoughts of him just now. I had managed to escape any mention of Orochimaru on the long walk here but now that I'm ensconced from prying eyes, my traitorous Uchiha pride requires me to confront my reservations. Long decided have I been to take a more active role in dealing with the snake obsessed sannin, rather than following most orders while watching for and avoiding the pitfalls. Orochimaru's very presence never ceases to make my skin crawl when he speaks of his obsessions, despite the countless hours I have spent with him. However disturbing each meeting with him is, this morning's events just had a bit more of an impact on my consciousness.

I was not an ignorant thirteen-year-old no matter what people thought of my defection. The old man wanted my body from the beginning, wanting to possess the sharingan, the kakei genkai of the Uchiha clan. I honestly didn't care back then as long as Itachi would be defeated I would have given my life again and again. My present opinion though, is of a different matter. It has been ever since I started planning beyond Orochimaru's usefulness to me. They brought the subject up after I finished my sword training this morning. Almost two and half years have passed since the sannin had to take over a different body.

In truth I had been anticipating the conversation, so close to being bored of acting like the good little vessel-in-waiting. I know Orochimaru anticipates me making a move against him but the Sannin has no idea how well an Uchiha learns and executes deception. Due to the sharingan illusions thrive in our blood and his misconceptions will be his downfall. Time is running short and my preparations aren't complete yet.

A draft of air slips in through the crack under the door, curling cold fingers around my covered legs. As preoccupied as I am, I hardly notice.

I refuse to let Itachi control me, play me like a puppet. Why should Orochimaru be any different? Letting him order me around like one of his subordinates, even just for keeping up appearances is a wound to Uchiha pride. Slight nausea surfaces as I imagine Orochimaru possessing my body, of his corrupted and decaying soul latching onto my own and drowning it into oblivion. I almost gag.

I desperately want to stop thinking for a moment, to stop feeling, I just want anything to make this go away and I don't care what. Not once since the day of the clan massacre have I stopped being focused on getting my revenge. Not once given myself time to just be.

Abruptly I turn and slam my fist into the rough stone wall, balling all my frustration, anger, and confusion into the one action. For a moment, one blissful moment, the sudden impact, pain and shock wipe everything clean. As my brain restarts, I wonder whether I will regret such a rash move - as Sasuke Uchiha has perfect self-control - but for now I don't. Half of me is glad I caused my self pain.

Morbid fascination permits me to stare at the blood now weeping from my abused and injured knuckles. My slate eyes follow the stark red trail trickling down my long, pale fingers while a half remembered memory overlaps the present.

A young almost innocent blonde, blue-eyed shinobi digs into the back of his hand with a kunai, his face tense with determination as he rids his body of poison.

"I'm never going to be frightened and try to back out of things."

The hot blood drips serenely to the ground, splashing as it lands at his feet; the past and present become synchronous and mirrors each to the second.

"I'm not going to lose to Sasuke."

Back then I had just looked on with mild amusement that such a dead-last shinobi could think to ever compare to me.

"I vow that to this pain in my left hand."

He was always so strong. No matter what it was, he never backed down. It infuriated me endlessly when each passing day seemed to make him far stronger than I could get in the same time.

The blonde was oblivious to a fault in a lot of things, nevertheless when it came to me some how Naruto and I always worked perfectly together. There was no denying it, Naruto and his antics had slowly chipped away at the barrier I had erected to shove every one away, a production of my revenge against a traitorous brother.

My thirteen-year-old self had tried to sever all bonds that had gotten me next to nowhere in my foolish thought to try Naruto's way to hidden strength; to protect the ones most precious to you. I had sworn to rebuild that wall of hate when I made the decision to use Orochimaru's cursed seal power. It was something I realised would never be rebuilt to its original height. Instead I made new walls with other emotions, other thoughts and reasons attached to them, new foundations that can not be broken until the Uchiha murderers are dead.

I slump against the closed door and slide to the unforgiving stone beneath, bloodied hand falling from its stationary position in the air. The action consequently smears the red substance across the entrance to my room; I absently note it will stain later. The other hand cups my flushed forehead, elbow against drawn up knees, as I let my head tilt forward. It feels too heavy for my neck to hold up on its own anymore. My vision blurs, the ground between my feet constantly fading in and out of focus. I ignore the potentially aching sensation, my mind not seeing what is in front of me anyway; it's too focused on the past.

I have always maintained that I don't need any help from anyone. Even when I came here, either they taught me or they could get lost. Yet I have commanded Orochimaru to train me, it is still help despite the form it was given. After our fight at the Valley, there were so many options still open to me that I could have taken, without taking the most painful one to Naruto and my old team. But I stubbornly stayed narrow-minded, clinging to the reasoning I had pinned before leaving with the Sound Four and abandoning Konoha.

My thoughts travel briefly into familiar icy territory. Those pathetic excuses for shinobi couldn't even survive an encounter with Hidden Leaf genin.

A nagging at my heart brings me back to my melancholic state, insistently asking me why did I let Naruto live. If the question had been asked at that time I might have answered with this: I refuse to gain power through his means, the shortcut to Mangekyou Sharingan. It was a whim to not kill.

I'll never admit aloud that I couldn't take his life. In the Valley of the End I couldn't murder my closest friend. My soul couldn't kill Naruto. My mind stumbles over the words it seems my cold heart has known for a long time. But the blonde idiot was - still is - more precious to me than anything else, even fulfilling my life's ambition only just edges in front. He made me waver. He made me search for another way to power.

The blonde had fought with a passion not heated by hate, but he had stood on a level equal to me, who had been driven by single-minded revenge. That power he had had been incredible, just by excessively training and not giving up he had accumulated such strength. I had ignored my own shinobi code then, relying on the newly advanced Heaven cursed seal and was nearly defeated.

Naruto had always cared for me despite the constant hostility and bickering, he had always tried to save me no matter the situation. Heck I had craved for those moments where someone wasn't gushing hollow words of affection or praise because I was the Uchiha heir and rookie genius. I did not want to be marred with the same brush of the twisted, murdering Uchiha prodigy Itachi.

I try to smile at the amusing fights I knew we had had but my lips will not bring them selves to twitch. Maybe after so long even my body forgets how to portray emotions. I attempt to picture those memories, but I can't see past their fuzziness. I comprehend the notion they are fading and an indescribable desire to see his cheerful face again rises up inside of me. My eyes clamp shut against the dull burn in my heart and I feel my teeth clench together, paining my jaw. Even the recent dreams I have of him, so clear when dreamt, are just snatches of unrecognisable blurred features now. My throat constricts, choking short a low moan.

His once incessant voice echoes in my brain, like yelling does through a long tunnel. Another unbidden memory resurfaces from the hole where I previously thought I had buried them undeniably.

"Why did you save me?.!"

"How should I know? I hated you."

"But why?.! Why? Why me? I never asked for your help!"

"I don't know. My body just moved on its own, idiot."

"Sasuke!"

Naruto had given me a reason to live, to really live and not just survive for the sake of revenge. I would forget the pain of loneliness when he challenged me, fought me until we were both exhausted. I used to smile, albeit in secret, and was able to have fun around him, which included teasing the blonde no end. Naruto had eventually come to be the light in the half of my life that was not torn in the darkness.

Did I really despise him and his eternal strength so much in the end that I was so easily convinced to leave?

A single, unexplainable tear traces a delicate path down the side of my smooth cheek, eventually finding a new home in the black threads of my shirt. A strangled gasp escapes me, barely managing to be heard in the sparse bedchamber.

It is with clarity I know if I ever meet Naruto before my revenge is achieved, my actions will break his heart into smaller pieces. Despite the truths and half-lies he will no doubt spout to get me to listen, I can not, will not, go back, for my sake and indirectly his as well.

Forgive me Naruto, but you can not save me from the dark path I willingly choose to walk.

owari

Kakei genkai - Family lineage limit aka 'Advanced bloodline limit'
Chokutō - the type of Sasuke's sword

Comments and reviews are really appreciated.