The Killing Moon
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Prologue
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Once upon a time ninja wars were a common occurrence, people did not talk of realms, much less countries or citizenship. No, a long time ago, territories ownership and control were a matter of which clan had developed the best technique, which member of said clans was raised to be their very own ultimate killing machine.
During that time, warfare did not amount to only arrows, swords, kunais or shurikens meeting their target; no, they were based on who had the most skill in chakra control, and produced the most damaging jutsu based on their blood limit.
For blood was what mattered the most. Perhaps the drive to fight, amass and control could only be explained by the blood frenzy running through their veins.
In such brutal environments, blood defined it all, one would be discarded without a second thought if deemed unworthy, clans politics and views would vary but it was a common occurrence to most that imperfections as well as shortcomings were by no means welcomed, much less tolerated. Such were new born fates, warriors' children expectations set upon their shoulders, the prospect of life versus blood potential.
Back then, blood was indeed the only currency worth mentioning. Life and death were just what you could buy with it, or was it?
Within the incessant waves of war, hate and death, life happened, love blossomed and survival followed.
How and why, is a tale of old to explain for even the wicked were formerly gentile, the mad were heretofore sane, and the blood-stained were once capable of love.
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Chapter 1 : Hexagram 52
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"Well, well, if this isn't a little Uchiha pup we've got here." A man clad in black, a grey armor on his chest and limbs, red scarf around his neck towering above a restraining his latest prey to the ground.
The man, rather the child, lying on the floor was covered in bruises, scratches and cuts of different lengths and depth, blood smeared across his body and clothes, glistening sweat covering his exposed chest and face, locks of the darkest hair stuck in permanent disarray.
Ragged breaths escaped his bloodied lips, whilst one hand was pinned to the floor just about head level with a kunai embedded deep through his palm, his other arm secured under his back in an awkward and most uncomfortable angle, which probably meant it had been dislocated if not broken, still tangled in of the wires attached to multiples tagged kunais that ensured the bloodied body remained locked in place, no escape available.
Not that the boy would even try at this point, if his difficult and raspy breathing, the apparent blood loss and overall damage done to his body were no tell-tale enough, then the markings on his chest were the ultimate give-away.
Chakra suppressor seals littered his chest, marks and script alike started from his belly button in two opposing bands, crossing each other on his back and ran up crossing each other again on his chest to finally meet at the base of his head forming a 艮 (bound) hexagram symbolizing his restraining seal, courtesy of his captors.
An additional marking, the final touch to his utter and complete defeat completed the seal, the mark imprinted on the right side of his face, right below his eye, composed by a single character meaning clear to all participants in this apprehension act, 'cursed'.
The leader of his captors entered the containment area, feet stopping a step away from his captive vanquished form. The soil was dry, a little churned by their previous grievous battle which caused the tiny amount of movement to stir up dust and ashes together, a coughing fit was unavoidable then, the unforgiving reaction racked his battered body, speckles of blood coming out together with a renewed difficulty to maintain a basic function such as breathing in check.
Paying no mind to his newly apprehended adversary discomfort, the cell leader crouched next to the boy taking a fist of raven hair in his hand tugging at it harshly so his face met his in the most painful manner possible.
"You little Uchiha scum aren't so conceited now, are you?" sneer evident in his tone and face, his one visible eye narrowing.
Above them a sniggering chorus could be heard, the boys' eyes now closed in obvious pain, the position in which he was manhandled was not helping his aching body, and neither did it accommodated his burning shoulder.
He was accustomed to pain, their way of life demanded it of course, yet it was the first time he was rendered useless in such a way. Torn, broken, and worst, chakra deprived, meant impending death in the best case, a painful and long agony until he met his end, if his captors were in for some sadism and fun. The group of five, all wearing black as was commonplace in their line of work, faces hidden behind white animal masks, a single insignia in the form of a swirling flame on their upper arm, tipping him of their origin. Konoha, home of their oldest and most powerful adversaries, the Senju clan.
His luck had finally ran out, not that he usually had much to begin with, but what were his chances now? Thoughts started to get muddled, his brain far too occupied in trying to control the pain that now wracked every single inch of his body just as blood slowly but surely oozed off his limbs in increasingly steadier rivulets.
Lying on that desolated battle torn place, away from all, his only remaining thoughts circled about the circumstances that led him here in the first place.
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Their settlement was perhaps one of the most coveted in the last age, hidden deep in the mountains, lost in one of the biggest forest known to men, a shrine made of stone and woodwork of the finest craft towered it. The compound, centuries old for their clan had such a long history, was put together by each family's house arranged to better accommodate the mountain morphology whilst keeping a certain hierarchy that was not lost in its inhabitants.
The commoners' homes were built at the base, next to the village entrance, whilst the warriors had settled on a higher ground both for statuses and strategy purposes. Within these, a house stood out just the tiniest bit, different not in shape or even size, it was something more subtle, its wooden doors at the entrance held intricate carvings and the stone gate was draped in deep blue fabric at the top. The overall setting exuded deference, a warranted one at that for it signaled the clan leader's home.
Within its walls, a family of three dwelled, with a fourth member underway.
Uchiha Fugaku has been the head of the village for little over a decade, born to the previous village patriarch he had been raised to take upon the clan leadership after both his father and eldest brothers passed away all too soon. He was a man of few words, strict and proud, his deeply rooted close to fanatic views on his clan's history and beliefs only rivaled by his strive to attain power beyond his position.
It seemed conflicting at times, for he was the head of a ninja clan, but also a father and a husband, his aspirations however tended to dwell beyond these customary obligations. Power greedy would some define it if they ever dared voice it aloud, it was mostly an unspoken educated assumption within the village walls, and an ushered murmur in the shadows of the clan council at most for no one dire incur in their well-known leader's ill-temper.
Uchiha Mikoto, Fugaku's wife, was grandchildren to the last shrine priestess, once assigned shrine maiden she was later promised to her now husband, for she was perhaps the fairest of all within their clan, and their leader deserved only the best if it would help his and the clan's purposes.
As such, Mikoto had no a say in the matter, and resigned herself to her fate, for as much was expected of her even if such expectations no longer involved years of drilling her mind with the prospect of dedicating her life to their deities and passing their grace trough tough learnt healing abilities.
Uchiha Itachi, the couple's first born, was what Fugaku had waited for as long as his aspirations ran, he also was what Mikoto thought would be her own piece of haven after a life goal was left to pursue another without her saying. When his tiny body gave its first cry, the whole village rejoiced, for a new heir was born within their bought deep in the mountain, securing their leaders bloodline, rendered purer and stronger with each passing generation.
Generation after generation of Uchihas had made it known they favored purity and equally despised the dissolution of their blood, much less favored it being exposed to outward proxies which could endanger the manifestation of the power that resided within their veins.
It came as no surprise to most when such belief got crystallized within Itachi, as he was named, and became known to all through the development of his innate abilities. Not a few years had he grown up that he activated his clan's blood limit, blood red flowing freely in his pupils; all of which happened to Fugaku's utter delight and Mikoto's own mixed feelings. Such development has led to Fugaku stripping her of most her rights and interactions over the boy, he would therefore be raised as it fit the clan's purposes and ambitions.
However not was perfect as it seemed, for Fugaku had hidden a secret from his clan fellows, his prized boy, their rising prodigy, was sick. It was no matter of a passing condition as he first assumed upon his birth. For as weeks and months then years passed by, the strange and evidently incurable disease Itachi was prone to, it also became blatantly and unequivocally certain its presence was of a durable nature.
The man cursed more often than not his ill luck for even although Mikoto had managed to control and subdue Itachi's sickness symptoms he knew in the long run it would be his undoing.
Nevertheless it did not deter him in his dedication to his son's education and training, Itachi proved to be even then his golden ticket to achieve a bigger name for their clan, amass war trophies, collect treasures and so much more, for with each passing day and yet another achievement attained by Itachi, Fugaku's ambitions exponentially grew much to Mikoto's dismay.
"Mikoto, it is high time for a spare." He said simple one day whilst his dutiful wife was serving him tea on the wooden deck of their home. It had been a peaceful afternoon, perhaps too peaceful given the raging battles that went on outside their borders and across the world at the time.
The raven haired woman stilled her hand over the cup she was serving, the meaning behind the prompt evident to what was expected of her, before nodding her head and giving it to her husband. There was no more than duty bounding them at this point, and both adhered to their compromise with the clan's need in mind.
Her husband's words had not been strange, it was custom, even an ordinary matter, in clans such as theirs to produce descendants, even if only replacements to the uncontested heir. In their line of work, a leader had to take precautions, ensure that no matter what the bloodline endurance would not be endangered. Gentleness, justice or equity, much less love had a thing to do, Mikoto thought as much.
Itachi had been on an intelligence gathering mission that day, having no knowledge of what had transpired between the couple until a few months later when Mikoto's belly began to grow and her pregnancy made itself known to all.
He had been summoned to the patriarch salon at the clan's shrine, often used to hold clan gathering and official meetings alike, as he sat straight back and hands properly set on his tights, eyes unwavering, he was delivered the news along the clan's council of elders.
"Our clan has been blessed, a second descendant of our glorious house is soon-to-be." Words spoken blankly that left no doubt to all that duty had engendered life and nothing more.
The first born and heir was not supposed to break his stance until the reunion ended, however just as his hidden sickness had not been considered in Fugaku's plans, neither were his expectations regarding the prospect of a sibling.
"It is good father, for there is hope for our clan and virtue to be protected." his statement was tantamount to an admission of rebelling to his father's, his clan's ways. Needless to say, Fugaku was not happy and he made it known to Itachi right after the gathering was adjourned.
His son did not rebel against physical punishment, his body plenty used to sustain injury and hurt, their life style pretty much demanded it and it was not long before Fugaku let it go, after all he could not risk damaging his heir.
However, against all expectations, this moment planted a seed in Fugaku's heart, one that would grow and affect his son-to-be thorough his life, the construct of his position and family, the very core of their clan. Most of all though, it would affect two souls bounded by blood.
Just seven months later that day, Sasuke came to their world. It was long and painful on Mikoto's behalf, resulting in a bloody mess that could have very well cost her life. However the child's birth was a silent one, no cries announced his coming out his mother's womb, the paleness of his skin, enhanced by the tuff of black hair at the top of his head and well defined eyebrows made him resemble a porcelain doll. It worried a weakened and on the verge of passing Mikoto, heart racing she demanded the baby be given to her, terrified this time she had delivered death and not sickness that would now endanger her position. She could not risk a repeat of Itachi's condition or worst even which could cause her to be labelled as unfit to behold her position as the clan's head partner.
Only when she held the baby within her arms firmly against her breast did she convince herself he was breathing, it was a quiet yet steady one, no evidence of a body malfunction or such conditions. It was unsettling of course, for the small body all cleaned up as he was still looked ghostly pale and snow kissed which contrasted greatly with the bloody affair that was his birthing. However, even that was now much more comforting than the ragged breathing and speckles of blood that were present when Itachi came to life.
Reassured, she held the small frame confidently to her husband, in turn, Fugaku only managed a curt nod in acknowledgement and made his way out of the room. There was no need to grow attached to a simple replacement, second in line or not.
Right outside the birthing room, Itachi stood at attention awaiting his summon. It never happened, for silence followed his mother's strenuous birthing labor, and all too soon his father exited the room, not at all fazed or bothered by Itachi's quizzical face.
Guts twisting, the now oldest son chanced a glance inside the room not expecting his mother nesting a small form in her arms. Even from the distance, upon resting his eyes on his newborn kin and not caring much for the blood stains being cleaned up, Itachi felt something blossoming in his heart and his pupils then bled the deepest red.
"Itachi come." Cooed Mikoto realizing her eldest son stood right by the door, the tone unusual to both hers and Itachi's ears.
Sasuke had not been alive for a day, and strange happenings were already less of an unfamiliar occurrence within the main Uchiha household.
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Sasuke never quite understood his father's cold demeanor, he had lived accustomed to it for as long as his memory permitted, perhaps even before those. Memories of harsh training, constant disapproval and contempt toward his persona defined his overall relationship with the man, together with almost complete dismissal and disregard from his role as a part of head household of the Uchiha clan.
'Disgraceful' and 'not up to expectations' were most often than not expressions by which he was commonly addressed within their home, his young mind not fully knowledgeable of the criteria he was supposed to meet but was apparently not able to live up to.
As if it has been foreseen his quiet demeanor as an infant had helped him go through the first half of his childhood being pretty much ignored by his father, however this advantage was later taken up and turned against him, when being unheeded switched to attracting unwanted attention, one which his very silence made accomplice in his abuse. As it turned out, his lack of protest and mute acceptance toward his elders nested the perfect opening for mistreatment and cruelty.
The mistreatment started with harsh bumping as a way to keep him out the way if he ever came across Fugaku within the household. Such encounters usually ended up with a throbbing head or dirtied clothes and bruises depending on what kind of surface he landed on, a wall, the wooden floor or on worst days the garden soil littered by customary stones, sand and such. On a couple of occasions he even landed butt first in their private pound, needless to say it was not the best thing to land into in mid-winter.
Being of long time warriors blood, it had taken but little time for little Sasuke to hone his senses and develop them enough to recognize Fugaku's presence or his proximity, he would then distance himself or at the very least back-off out of reach.
Unfortunately this newly acquired tactic only seemed to cause Fugaku's disgust toward him to increase and in turn caused direct summoning to become a common happening, one which he could not avoid as it was issued by his elder, parent and clan leader all at once. Such summons were usually accompanied by slapping at first, then manhandling in the most vicious ways, no prompts given, not that it would make any difference to both parts involved. Still Sasuke kept silent and developed an endurance to pain that would make some of their clan members envious if not for what had caused it to be in the first place.
It was not the only thing he learnt though, for as Mikoto stick to her place by her husband's side she also had a duty toward a fellow clan member, even if such member was deemed unworthy by their leader; alas, and not before his banishment would be stated would she fail to repair the damage brought upon him.
It was through her that the youngest son came to learn how to dress injuries, from the simplest of wounds up to broken bones directly from the best healer in the Uchiha compound, as it was a role assigned to the shrine maiden who just happened to be Mikoto's position before she got married to Fugaku.
She may have not been allowed to express herself thorough her life and the changes made to it, but she made sure her fellow clan members, young or old, were taken care as it should, it made no difference whether said member was from her household or not, and if it was what it took to consciously oppose Fugaku without putting at risk her position she would gladly oblige.
Back to Sasuke, in their persistently rarer moments together, Itachi would sometimes marvel at his little brother healing abilities, not quite understanding where such capability came from, much less why was Sasuke seemingly so indifferent to further explain its source. Sasuke would help him dress his wounds upon his arrival most often than not expecting him at the household private back gate, even before he reported to Fugaku. Itachi was perhaps the sole member of their inner clan circle who showed genuine concern for his young brother, as such he had asked on various opportunities how his gift came to be but Sasuke only smiled shyly and proceeded to work his way around such questions with well-practiced words, before resuming his work silent as ever.
It had been on one of these many occurrence that Itachi attempted to undue his littler brothers well-kept secret, Sasuke was dressing a nasty gash on his side, blood cleaned up and no smell lingering anywhere, the cut itself closed up by the young boy's skillful control on healing chakra. Itachi's question still hang on the air, having just barely stilled Sasuke's hands over his ribs.
"You should not dwell on it brother, I am just grateful you will not arise our father's disapproval." Sasuke's words spoken softly, gently, held a warning that Itachi could not evade. Their father had most likely already sensed Itachi and further postponing of his report would not be welcomed, there would be another time to probe was all that the elder kept thinking as he softly ruffled his brother's midnight hair.
"Well thank you so much for taking care of that, little brother." His words were meant to be equally appreciative and well-intentioned, but Itachi missed the double-meaning they exerted on Sasuke as he poked his forehead and left the boy behind in his room.
Living in constant dread, having to tip-toe against each thought, glance, movement, word even, had taught him that much and little Sasuke did not want his fate to befall on his admired brother. For Itachi was probably the only person in their cold household he felt comfortable with, his mind at ease and his body not having to strain itself to hold attention.
However, such comments spilling from Itachi's lips always left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth, it was a strange feeling, one that left his gut twisting in the unknown, for Itachi was the rightful heir to their clan after all, and his much drilled education told him time after time he should be grateful Itachi allowed him such freedom in his presence. Perhaps his older brother indulged him because he served him well, never complained and basked in complete acceptance whilst in Itachi's company.
He was but only a spare, a mere replacement, both Fugaku's and Itachi's backup plan should anything go awry and against the Uchiha clan wishes. There was no doubt in his mind that this plan was a reality he would not escape, he did not know any better either, much less thought better of it.
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Back at his current predicament, such experiences and abilities made it possible for Sasuke's mind to conjure the likelihood that he was not destined to die here, laying in a poodle of his own blood, rendered powerless and without escape in view.
Well, that was as long as their plan would go, mused a frankly worn out Sasuke, he would probably have attempted a full smirk if he could have conjured it without wincing in pain.
Perhaps quirking up his lips has not been the best thing to do at the time, his expression filled with irony at his own remembrance-trip taken badly by his captors.
"Stupid Uchiha mongrel aren't you having the time of your life, are you now?" the leader of his captors hissed, boot sucker-punching the side of his head and sending it flying to the side, skull ringing. He would have to add skull fracture to his long list of injuries, perhaps death would stop eluding him at last. If only luck would once and for all side by him.
Tough one, it was not meant to happen. Not a moment later, the leader of the group was accosted by two of his men, whispers were exchanged, most likely consisting of news ways to cause pain or deciding on a jutsu to cast upon his unguarded body. The last thing his mind could conjure as darkness invaded his consciousness by each passing second was the soft kiss on his forehead Itachi has given him the night before, it was meant as a blessing after being given this disastrous mission in his stead.
"Sorry for having to fill in for me, little brother."
Or, was it?
To be continued...
Notes: Yes, you must have noticed the canon divergence by the end of this introductory chapter, it is as blatant as intentional. This story setting is pretty much akin to the ninja Universe in NARUTO which included chakra usage, jutsu, clans and their own blood limit; however, I'm sort of taking it back at a time close to the way things were around the time of Konoha's inception.
This will be further explained in later chapters but I will say that whilst the Senju have indeed thought on creating an idealized ninja village and finally settled in Konoha, the Uchiha are still pretty much their most powerful adversaries, as such the world out there is still plagued by warfare that goes from petty skirmish to large scale full blown war. Anyway, this is pretty much a lame excuse to attempt yet another Itachi and Sasuke (note I am not claiming it to be ItaSasu yet) story, it is a dark cold world for them and things are not going to be pretty.
Hexagram 52 is named 艮 (gèn), "Bound". Other variations include "keeping still, mountain" and "stilling". Both its inner and outer trigrams are (艮 gèn) bound = (山) mountain (courtesy of Wikipedia, because heck, why not?).