Title: How the Mighty Never Was
Character(s): Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naurot, Hatake Kakashi
Pairing(s): None. If you squint really really really hard, you will see Sasusaku. Maybe.
Summary: One simple word that could mean so many different things. A look into why Sasuke left and how he regards 'power.' Sasuke- centre. Oneshot.
Warning(s): Curses. Boo. Mayhap a bit OOC? Or is it AU?
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I am a poor college student.
Whenever someone with long hair in a ponytail or a tall figure shrouded in a black cloak passed by out of the corner of his eyes, he would do a quick double-take to make sure it wasn't the person he was seeking for. Kakashi would always give him a dour look whenever he did that as if to condone what he was doing except for the fact that he would catch the weary sad crinkles around his teacher's eye- as if he knew that no matter what he did, it would not change the fact that Itachi will always linger in his brother's mind, always creeping into everything he did, overtaking his senses.
Sakura was oblivious, smothering him with warmth and kindness, always chattering away about the weather and other such nonsense. But sometimes, he thinks maybe she understands an inkling of what was going on because he would see the small wistful smiles she sent him whenever he arrived to training late with bags under his eyes from another night of restless sleep that was plagued with memories of slaughter and so much blood. He would acknowledge her presence with a mere nod, ignore her cheery "Good morning Sasuke-kun!", and attempt to pound Naruto into the ground when they sparred, relieving his tension and stress.
Naruto, in turn, would take it in good ease, sprouting out insults and how this would finally be the day 'he beat Sasuke down like the pansy bitch he is'. After declaring this in the loud booming voice of his, the blithering idiot would then slip on nothing, giving Sasuke sure victory as he planted a foot over the blonde's chest.
Days like these made his nights sometimes easier as he lie awake at night, not daring to sleep in fear of what he would see in his dreams. He would wonder, as the moon slid across the sky, if this was what friendship is like. Sakura and Naruto would creep up on him, made him feel needed, made him want to stay with them, made him feel like he was whole again.
But he was already broken and he knew that deep inside his heart even if he yearned for the normalcy of life. On days when it rained and the sun felt like it would never come out again, he felt the pull. The force was too strong for him to resist and so he succumbed to it, training in his solitary yard until well into the night, beating against the blocks of wood until his hands were bruised and bleeding.
Afterwards, when he showed up at the bridge, he'd shied away from Sakura and her worried eyes that wandered down to see the bandages around his hands. He dismissed Naruto and the way his forehead wrinkled and his lips thinned when he flinched away from any help that Kakashi offered. The disappointment was evident and curdled in his stomach when Naruto refused to spar with him and Sakura didn't object, looking at him with eyes that shone with what looked suspiciously like tears. He would rage and rant about how he was fine and they were being utter morons for wasting another day just so he could recuperate and stormed away back to his isolated house to trash the training dummies some more.
He never saw the resigned look on Sakura's face or the lonely pitying aura that emanated from Naruto. He never heard the drained sigh that slipped out of Kakashi's mouth whenever he stomped away from training.
So he was surprised when, in the way of his path out of Konoha, Sakura stood there, eyes wide and hands shaking a bit, telling him that she loved him and that they could all work a way out to get Itachi if he would just let them into his life so they could understand his pain and anguish. She's so innocent and naïve, he thinks as the words 'thank you' came involuntarily out of his lips. But it was not enough; as if he would stay just for that- just for the pink haired girl who reminded him of lost love and rekindled the softness in his life, just for the yellow haired boy who was a sturdy companion (something he never had before), just for the silver haired man who helped him overcome obstacles that he alone could never have.
No, he could not stay. Orochimaru offered power- something that Kakashi never gave him, something that Sakura could not help with, something that Naruto already had that he did not.
They wanted to understand him and it always made him laugh hysterically when he remembers the conversation with Sakura before he knocked her out and placed her on a nearby bench, folding her arms delicately to her side. They wanted to understand him but gave him no chance to explain himself. Even if he did explain, they would never truly understand- that he had to leave because he did not want to wake up screaming again in the middle of the night when he saw phantoms and murky images in his dreams.
He could already see their reactions if he ever told them what happened that night and why he just had to leave. Kakashi would just nod and be reminded of hatred and war and how those two things torn apart his childhood. Sakura would be horrified and he didn't want that; he didn't want to taint her just like his brother had tainted him. Naruto would pity him and he did not want pity. He did not want sympathy. All he wanted was power, the power to destroy, the power to protect, the power to do what he needed to do - to keep them safe from Itachi's wrath and give him strength to finally kill the bastard.
And when he was alone in the darkness of his stone cold room, courtesy of Orochimaru to his new host, he sat on the hard bed and pulled his knobbly knees in and curled into himself, rocking. When he listened to the screams echoing off the empty corridor, he was reminded of ghosts, both old and new. Now joining in his nightmares, three bodies were prominent- pink, yellow, and silver. He would then shut his eyes and rocked even harder, whispering the words to himself as if a prayer, a reminder of why he could never go back to who he was-
For power, he will endure anything.
A rambling oneshot. Does it make sense? I'm writing this and now it's 1 in the morning. What...
Reviews are much appreciated.