A/N: This probably sucks, but I did my best. Sorry it's really short. It seemed the proper length for my idea, so . . . yeah. :-) Hope you enjoy!
The Losses for Power
By SpacePirateGirl
It wasn't as if he could surrender. It wasn't as if he could resist. That was not the way it worked with deals, contracts. When this one man held everything he needed, no, he could never turn back. Even if death seemed the better choice. "Will you teach me something today?" And by something, he meant something, a real technique, something he could use.
"Not today, Sasuke-kun."
There was no point. Not one reason why he should stay. He had fulfilled every part of his bargain, every single part, and now it was Orochimaru's turn to give what he had promised. "How long do you expect me to wait?" Sasuke demanded.
"Until I can trust you. Would you rather return to Konoha?"
Returning home wasn't a choice either—unless he did plan to die. Orochimaru had trapped him, and he couldn't escape. Not because it was impossible. Truthfully Sasuke didn't know why escape just wasn't an option. It just wasn't.
"Lay down."
Orochimaru's demonic whisper sent chills down Sasuke's spine as the young Uchiha shivered violently. The words had been spoken several times, and he knew what was in store for him. The ground was cold. Orochimaru . . . was warm.
"Sasuke, now. Take off your shirt and lay down."
No. He wouldn't this time. There had to be someway he could avoid it, just this once. But resisting would only make everything worse. Sasuke took off his shirt and held it with trembling hands.
"Fiesty today, aren't you?"
Orochimaru strode forward and stole the shirt from his student's grasp. The only safeguard for Sasuke was tossed to the side, in a heap on the cold, barren ground. And Sasuke feared what would happen next.
"You're right to be afraid."
His hand rose in a steady arch and swung down, straight upon Sasuke's cheek. Cold, so cold. At first, it was numb, and he couldn't feel the pain. But then his cheek grew cold, and it stung worse than hell possibly could. It was cold. It only enhanced the pain. He sank teeth deep into his lip as if he could stop his yelp.
"Lay down."
This time, he obeyed. Trust—it was all a matter of trust in Orochimaru's game. The sooner he got this "trust" part over with, the sooner this could be over, the game of pride. The sooner his pain could go away. The sooner his power could arrive. Yes, power. That thought, the sole reminder of why he was here, why he had done what he had done, why he had not died long ago. The only thought to keep him going. The ground was still so cold.
"You're afraid."
His tremors deepened when Orochimaru ran a hand so softly over his chest. Adrenaline pumped throughout his entire body, and it sickened him to know Orochimaru could rouse such feelings. There was no pleasure in this—but his body ignored all logic.
"Beg me, Sasuke-kun. Beg me to stop."
Orochimaru had to trust him. "S-stop, please." And so Sasuke would beg. The Sannin's hand ran up his chest once more and stopped abruptly on the mark he knew all too well. The curse mark. Orochimaru pressed upon it with his fingers.
"Yes, scream, Sasuke, scream. Let me hear it."
And he knew he couldn't hold it back. Scream. White. Black. Flashes of purple, red, and yellow. Scream. He couldn't bear the pain—Orochimaru's fingernails had dug into the mark too deep.
"You have been breaking the rules, Sasuke-kun."
The same exact words every time. He recalled all the other sessions of "trust" before this day—as his mind seemed to crack in two. White, black. His vision swam before him. Had he known what would wait for him in Otogakure, would he still have come? Power. The enticing draws of power. Orochimaru held the other end. The ground was still so cold.
"You know how I can tell? Your mark still hurts you. You have to give in."
Give in. His brain still melted, his eyes still couldn't see beyond the flashes of light. Power. He wanted to give in.
"All the pain will go away."
Power. Pain. But he couldn't give in. He couldn't give in. He couldn't give in. He had to give in. "There has to be another way." And he knew there wasn't. He needed to submit. White. Black. "Stop it . . ." his breath left him in a whisper. Tears poured down his face.
"Will you give in?"
He didn't answer. Thirteen years old, sole survivor of the Uchiha massacre, avenger, onyx eyes, raven hair. Weakling. His power was a joke. He needed more. All about the power. "Yes." The ground was just too cold.
"Good."
And his life would never be the same.
"Very good."
And he would grow a lifetime in a day.
"Put your shirt back on."
The ground was, oh, so cold.