Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
He screamed. His tolerance for pain was high – he was a shinobi, after all – but the sensation of being hacked to pieces as he lay there, incapable of movement, overloaded his pain receptors. He couldn't think. He couldn't hear anything aside from his own screams. He couldn't feel anything except that poisoned blade as it repeatedly tore into him. Despite all this, he wouldn't talk. His village meant far too much to him to betray just because of a little bit of pain, even if it wasn't a little bit and in reality he expected to die. There was nothing to gain from giving in. He'd die anyway so there was no point. Dimly, he thought about how poor they were at interrogation. No decent shinobi – definitely not an ANBU captain from Konohagakure – would give in to this. Admittedly, he'd broken the genjutsu in an instant when they'd tried that approach, but they should at least know that by revealing death as a possibility they'd guaranteed his silence. There was nothing they could do to break him (there was one thing but he was confident they didn't have access to it) and so this whole ordeal was a waste of both sides' time. Blindfolded as he was – one glimpse of his ocular powers and his sight had been taken from him – he didn't know what they were planning. He was unable to distinguish chakra signals due to the lack of concentration he could afford when the blades were cutting it away. Why they hadn't removed his eyes was a mystery, but he was thankful for it. His clan's secrets would not be betrayed by him – if necessary, he had enough chakra stored up to forcibly crush his own eyes before they could be taken. The laughter of his captors once again echoed around the enclosed space as he realised that interrogation was not the reason for this torture. Whoever they were, they wanted him dead, preferably screaming for mercy before the end. But they couldn't break him; he would never beg for his life. Scream in pain, yes, but never beg. Not unless… but no. There was no way they could have access to his one weakness, a weakness he refused to put a name to even within the confines of his own mind. Just in case.
When the pain stopped he thought he'd died. Either that or the torture had made him hallucinate as an escape from the pain. Screams torn from the throat of someone that wasn't him made him tense, just for a moment, before he realised that it wasn't what he feared. He didn't recognise the voice that suddenly cut off in the gurgle of death.
"Nii-san?"
He recognised that voice, and that alone told him that he was hallucinating. There was no way his otouto would be there, would rescue him from death by torture. No, he'd probably join in, help ensure his death was the most painful thing he would ever experience. That voice would never call for him so tenderly. Not anymore. He was breaking – the hallucinations had done what the pain could not as tears splashed down his cheek and his breathing quickened. Hyperventilation was not something he had experienced for many years, and time had dulled the sensation of not being able to breathe, of panicking as each hurried breath drew no air into his lungs and it felt as if he was choking on nothing. He was.
"Nii-san, you have to calm down!" the hallucination was frantic, just as his otouto would have been when they were younger. Not now. Now he would enjoy the sight as he gasped for breath, tears leaking from under the blindfold and the darkness of unconsciousness creeping in. "Nii-san!" He refused to believe it was real. The moment he believed that, it was all over. As long as he could remember that it was nothing more than his mind supplying memories of the past, and the hallucination adjusting them to make them seem present, he would be alright. But still he gasped frantically for breath as the selfish part of him fought to believe it was real. Closer and closer unconsciousness beckoned and he was all too happy to slip into its embrace and escape the terrors of his mind.
"Nii-san!" Unconsciousness was fought off by an outside influence as a hand slapped his cheek, hard, temporarily shocking his breathing into calming before he recognised the voice again and the hyperventilation began all over again. Arms wrapped around him, carefully missing the open wounds as he was cut down. It couldn't be real. It had to have been a trick. Perhaps they had caught him in a genjutsu? He tried to release it, but nothing happened. He was still being ever so carefully lowered to the ground in the secure grip of what sounded to be his otouto. Fingers fumbled with his blindfold and he closed his eyes as it slid off, not wanting to see the lie that awaited him.
"You have to stay awake!" his otouto's voice pleaded, a hand once again slapping him as he began to drift. "Open your eyes!" He refused, not wanting to see reality. His otouto's presence, and care, was impossible and he would not let himself see it. Fingers threaded through his hair as he was pulled against a warm body, calloused fingers of a ninja that had spent far too long in the lifestyle. He'd pushed him into it, all to fulfil his selfish desire of death. But this wasn't his otouto, he reminded himself. This was someone else, using his voice and maybe his face to try and make him let his guard down. How they'd found out about his weakness when it was his most guarded secret he didn't know, but soothing fingers coaxed him into calming down. Familiar soothing fingers.
"Open your eyes," the voice begged softly. He could never resist that tone from that person, even if it wasn't him. Begrudgingly, he let his eyelids peel back, wincing at the bright glare of the light. The face looking down at him with unshed tears glistening in his eyes was perfect. Whoever was mimicking his otouto knew him, and knew him well. Arms held him tightly, but not so much as to antagonise his wounds.
Upon seeing his half-lidded eyes focus upon him, his otouto smiled weakly, pushing his hair back away from his eyes with a tenderness he hadn't felt for nearly ten years…
"You're not him," he rasped quietly, throat torn from screaming. "He hates me."
"I could never hate you, Nii-san," his otouto said gently. "I tried to, but I couldn't." He opened his mouth to rasp another protest but was cut off. "We need to get out of here," his otouto warned. The arms wrapped around him adjusted their grip until he was in a bridal-lift, head lolling lifelessly against his otouto's shoulder as the younger stood, ever so carefully so as not to jostle him. It was getting harder to remember that it was just a hallucination as his mind so desperately wanted to believe that it was real, that his beloved otouto had come to rescue him and was going to look after him in a role reversal from their youth.
No matter how carefully his hallucinogenic rescuer moved, he was still jostled and had to fight to keep back signs of pain. He couldn't show weakness now. If they knew they'd found his weakness then they'd look for the real thing and torture him instead. He couldn't let that happen so he remained stoic, regardless of difficulty.
"You've got him!" another familiar voice said, filled with relief.
"He thinks I'm not real," his otouto told the other person, whose name he could not recall.
"Put him down," a female voice ordered, this one far less familiar. "I'll treat his wounds." He was tenderly laid upon something soft before gentle hands caressed his wounds with feather-light touches and the dull pain faded away completely.
"How is he?" the familiar voice asked, echoed by his otouto, as the last of his physical wounds closed.
"He's lost a lot of blood," the girl said. "It'll take several days to replenish naturally, and he's too weak to risk a pill. His wounds also contained traces of poison and I need to extract it soon before it kills him. Once the poison is removed it'll be safe for him to sleep, even if he needs to periodically woken to ensure he doesn't slip away from us without us noticing."
"But he'll be okay?" his otouto asked, voice full of a panic that wrenched at his heart.
"That depends on his will to live," the female said sadly. "Now stop hovering and let me work!" There was a dull pain in his chest and then it felt like something was being torn out of him. His back arched involuntarily and a ragged scream tried to force its way out of his ruined throat, an area not yet treated. He was almost convinced this was real now, but if he let himself think like that who knew what would befall him? Maybe they'd break into his mind, find out what would hurt him the most, and go find his brother. But his brother was strong, maybe they'd find him but be unable to hurt him?
The last of the tugging ended and he felt at ease enough to slip back into his own consciousness as the poison left him. Feeling marginally stronger, he forced his eyes open and they eventually focused, as much as they could anyway, on a pink-haired young woman – one of his otouto's teammates, if he recalled correctly. But they went their separate ways years ago. There was no way it could be her, if it really was his otouto.
"Nii-san?" his otouto asked tentatively as a hand once again touched his hair. "Do you want to sleep now?"
"Will I stop dreaming if I do?" he asked, childishly. He had to know. He had to be sure that falling asleep in this part of his mind would awaken him from the illusion. He didn't get an answer, only a soft hand resting on his forehead and the familiar feeling of sleep setting in. He fought it, not willing to return to the world of pain, but it would not be denied and he slipped into darkness.
Hands shook him gently, pulling him back into wakefulness and he inwardly sighed. It had been a nice dream, but now he'd have to supress it, lest his captors gain entry to his mind.
"Nii-san?" his otouto's voice asked tenderly and he froze. No. It couldn't be – was he still in the illusion? Again he tried to release it, but nothing happened and the hopeful voice continued. "You've slept for nearly a day. Sakura said you needed to be wakened." There was a note of apology in the voice. Sakura? Was that the name of his female teammate? Wait. He was still hallucinating so he couldn't afford to think like that.
"What do I have to do to wake up?" he rasped, allowing his eyes to crack open slightly, although he avoided looking at his fake otouto.
"You are awake," the female voice said soothingly. He saw a green glow and his body seemed to regain some strength. He denied it fervently. He didn't need to look at the copy of his otouto to feel the disappointment settle. He wasn't broken yet.
"Oy!" the other voice that had been there before he fell asleep broke in. "Stop with all this rubbish about dreaming. Teme rescued you from them!" He began to place the voice as he looked to see a blur of yellow.
"Torture can have psychological effects, baka!" the woman – Sakura – said. There was a yelp and he deduced that the blond male had been hit. "He probably thinks he's in a genjutsu or something."
"But he's scary-good at genjutsu!" the blond one whined. "Surely he can tell it isn't one?"
"Hallucination," he rasped, unable to take the slight on his abilities – his famed abilities – even in the dream. Of course it wasn't genjutsu. That didn't mean it was reality, though.
"See?" the woman snapped. "He thinks he's imagining us."
"Nii-san?" his otouto asked, apparently ignoring his companions. He allowed his gaze to rest on the younger male, taking in the raven hair and worried black eyes – they should be red. His otouto would never show him those eyes any more. A hand soothed his hair gently and he couldn't help but lean into the touch slightly before realising what he was doing and stiffening. He'd held out for so long, he couldn't break now. A bead of moisture made its way down his cheek and it took him a moment to place it as a tear, leaking from his eye as he fought with himself. If he gave in, would he be able to live in this reality, forgetting the horrors of his own? It was a tempting thought.
But more tempting was the blade he spied on his otouto's belt. He could end it all. It would ruin his otouto – his real otouto – but then again, he was already unsuitable for their fight. He'd never be able to fight at full strength, and the fight was bound to disappoint. He hated to admit it, but he was broken. He'd been cracked for years, ever since that night, but now he'd smashed into a million pieces and there was no-one that could piece him back together.
If the blade was real – he had no doubts about that; the imposter would be sure to have his own means of defence in case of resistance – then he would die. But he was dying anyway, and death would be preferable to living a lie any more. His otouto was talking to him but he tuned him out, waiting until the blade was close enough to grab. There!
In a flash the blade was in his hand – it certainly felt real – and without hesitation he plunged it into his own heart. The pain hurt, but he was out of screams. Just as the world faded into black he heard one last thing.
"Damn it!" He didn't know who the voice belonged to, his otouto or his captors but he allowed himself one last smile before he died.
I'm sorry, Sasuke.
So was it all a hallucination, or did Sasuke actually rescue him? To be perfectly honest, I don't know myself. I know which one it was supposed to be, but then it went out of control and decided to write itself, as many stories do so I'm just as clueless as you are.
Thanks for reading!
Tsari