Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, if I did it would be named Sasuke.
Warning: Graphic violence/gore and some hints of a sexual nature.
Inheritance
By: Hana J.
Sasuke couldn't remember when the dreams started.
"Niisan, wake up." Sasuke nudges Itachi's still form. He knows his brother is only pretending to be asleep; Itachi is always alert and aware of everything going on around him. He is especially aware of Sasuke and Sasuke knows this.
"Niisan…" Sasuke whines. He grabs his brother's shoulder, his fingers curling around the collar of Itachi's shirt. He pushes hard. "Wake up!"
Itachi flops over onto his side. His face and body is positioned towards Sasuke. He isn't moving.
"Niisan…" Now, Sasuke's voice is unsure. "Wake up? Niisan wake up!"
Itachi's eyes open and they are dark and glassy. A smile blooms across his face. His smile is too bright. "Niisan?" Sasuke repeats, but cautiously moves away from his grinning brother. The smile on Itachi's face stretches, tight and taunt until his lips crack and blood dribbles down his chin. Sasuke stumbles in his effort to get away, eyes wide and hands trembling.
"Sasuke…" Itachi's voice rasps. But it can't be Itachi; it can't be his brother. Sasuke crawls backwards like a crab, nails catching on the tatami mats.
Itachi is still smiling; his teeth are a stark white in the darkness. The corners of Itachi's mouth rip, flesh splitting in a crack that reminds Sasuke of a tremor, and then Itachi's eyes, now Sharingan red, fall out and hang from his eye sockets like a wet yo-yo.
Sasuke screams.
Itachi speaks. "Not enough hatred."
And then, Sasuke wakes up.
It is morning. The sunlight filters through the window in the kitchen, dull and yellow. His mother is cooking eggs. He listens as the eggshells crack when she hits them softly against the counter. The yolk drips out through the cracks and then sputters and hisses as she places the egg onto the frying pan.
Itachi walks into the kitchen, a customary good morning on his lips as he briefly kisses his mother and pats Sasuke on the head as he walks by. Sasuke stiffens at the touch, the dream still too close for comfort. He notices Itachi glancing at him curiously but looks away into his cup of juice. He doesn't want to look at Itachi's eyes.
"Sasuke, you're quiet this morning." His mother remarks. He doesn't say anything in response, just accepts the plate of eggs she hands him and pokes at it with his chopsticks.
Itachi watches him as he eats but Sasuke leaves, saying he has to go to school, and walks out the door before Itachi can say anything to him. His father smiles at him as he passes him on the porch.
Class is boring and Iruka-sensei goes on and on about genjutsu techniques and Sasuke eventually tunes him out. Lunch doesn't come quickly enough.
When he opens his bento lunchbox he thinks he sees strands of red veins, wet and slimy, mixed in with his noodles. When he lifts his chopstick to his mouth they are no longer there.
He bumps into a blonde haired boy on his way home. The boy, his hair wild and eyes red, turns to him and hisses, "Why did you go to the Snake, you bastard. You were supposed to be my friend!"
When Sasuke stops in the street and turns to look at him, the boy is walking away, humming and smiling.
He enters his home and calls the customary greeting. No one answers him. He steps into the parlor and stares. His parents' bodies are bent at a funny angle and a puddle of blood is spreading across the floor. He blinks and the vision is no longer there. His mother, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail is looking at him expectantly. He says nothing and walks to his room, shutting the door behind him and ignoring his mother's worried look.
On his bed, Itachi is laying down, naked. He freezes in the doorway.
"Niisan…" Sasuke doesn't know what else to say. He is scared.
Itachi grins. "Why do you look so surprised, little brother?" Itachi gets up and Sasuke steps away until his back is bumping into the hard wood of the door.
Itachi reaches out a hand. Sasuke can't help but stare at his brother's penis. He has never seen it before. It is slack and bumps against his brother's pale thighs as he walks. Itachi crouches in front of him.
"Foolish brother," he whispers and then leans in towards Sasuke's face.
There is a knock at the door. Sasuke turns to answer it gratefully. Itachi is standing in the frame, watching him with keen, dark eyes. "You look pale, little brother. What's wrong?"
Sasuke cannot say that it is Itachi's fault. That Itachi was in his room, naked. So he says nothing but invites his brother in. He thinks that if Itachi is in his room then no one, not even the fake-Itachi, can hurt him.
He asks Itachi to stay the night but his brother declines with the excuse of an Anbu mission. He says he will be gone for three days. Sasuke begs him to stay and Itachi touches his tears with his fingertip and asks him what is wrong. Sasuke says its nothing and Itachi pulls him close, his arms wrapping around his chest. Sasuke feels warm and safe and wishes that his brother would not leave. He falls asleep in Itachi's arms and when he wakes up Itachi is no longer there.
He eats breakfast in silence, watching as his mother cleans up the kitchen and scrubs the counters. He gasps as she bends over to pick up a fallen spatula and a hole, gaping and bleeding, appears in her middle. She turns to face him, her eyes wide. Her hand reaches toward him and she asks him what is wrong. But he cannot answer. He can only scream.
His father comes into the kitchen; he can hear him and feel his calloused hands holding his arms. Still, he screams. His mother has blood trickling out of the corners of her mouth and his dad's hands are slick and covered in entrails. He kicks and tries to get out of his father's grip but his father's hands are strong and he finds everything fading away in a bright burst of light. He wakes up on his bed, in his room. His mother is sitting on a wobbly, wooden chair, cradling his hand in her own. She asks him if he is all right and he shakes his head no. When she asks him what is the matter he opens his mouth to answer but no words come out. He can see Itachi's eyes, the Sharingan, staring at him and can hear his brother's voice echoing in his ears. "You are not worth killing."
He grips his mother's hand and tells her he must go to school. But she tells him he has no school today and that it is a Saturday. He lies back on his bed and falls asleep. When he wakes up, it is night.
He gets up, wanting to go into Itachi's room. He knows that Itachi is not there but likes the familiarity and the feeling of comfort he has when he is anywhere near Itachi. If Itachi is away then his older brother's room is the next best place to be. He crawls into Itachi's bed and falls back asleep.
He is screaming and telling Itachi he hates him. His hand is covered in a bright light, chakra, and the sounds of screeching birds fill his ears. The wall next to him breaks with the power of his jutsu and he is running towards his brother. Itachi is staring at him, calm and bland. It makes him angry, this indifference and he wants to kill him. Hate wells into his heart, pumps through his veins, and he roars out his fury. He wakes up covered in sweat and a blue light pulses around his hand.
Morning is quiet and father sits at the table across from him. Sasuke knows father is there because he made a fit yesterday. He eats, the sound of his chewing overly loud in the kitchen, and avoids looking at his father. Nothing is said in regards to, what they quickly dubbed, "the incident." Sasuke wonders if they will tell Itachi when he comes home.
Sasuke stands up, chair scrapping against the floor; he winces at the sound and looks towards his father. Father is standing too, plate in hand. An "excuse me" parts his lips as he gathers his plates and moves from the table and into the kitchen. He can hear his father's heavy footsteps behind him.
He puts his dishes into the sink and rinses them, the loud clanking of wooden bowls and glass plates sounding like cries for help being drowned out by water – a little girl with pink hair racing along a waterfall, hands out stretched towards a body tumbling through the rapids, suddenly flashes through his mind. He forces his hands to wash off the excess noodles and concentrates on the soap suds that gather around his fingers. His father places his own dishes on the counter. A warm hand rests on his shoulder.
"Good job, Sasuke." His father's voice sounds happy, almost proud, and hangs in the space between.
For what, Sasuke wants to ask but the fear of being seen as ignorant holds his tongue.
His father's hand – so big that it swallows his whole shoulder – lifts and Sasuke feels a strange rush of relief wash through him.
He nods appropriately and speaks a quiet thank you as he moves to leave the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he sees his father's back moving towards the patio door, head lolling to the side and hanging off by the tendons in his neck, sawed-off veins sagging wetly against his collarbone. He turns quickly, back bumping into the hall door. His father turns towards the sound, head intact. "Something wrong?" he asks.
"N-no Father, I thought I saw something." He looks away from his father's scrutinizing eyes.
Suddenly, his father smiles, as if seeing something he likes, and nods to him before stepping outside and shutting the door.
Sasuke walks back to his room a feeling of unease stretching through his skin. He should go practice shuriken throws.
He gathers his equipment and goes outside, passing the garden where his mother is hunched over pulling weeds. Her flesh begins to bubble, dissolve, and drip off like it is being melted by acid and her skeleton – heaving red muscles and jutting white bones – collapse and sink into the churned up soil.
"—Sasuke."
She is in front of him now, her jaw bone unhinged and grinding together with each silent word, her bony hands – one finger hanging loosely at the joint – reaching towards him. He jerks away. His vision blurs and then snaps into focus. His mother – thankfully normal – is frowning at him, her eyes suspiciously bright. Her hand flutters near his face like a dying butterfly, as if wanting to touch him, but she withdraws it and pulls away. "You're growing up so quickly. I would have thought, for you, it wouldn't have been so soon…I had hoped." Her voice is quiet and a touch raspy, he realizes quickly that he wasn't meant to hear those words. He looks away, suddenly afraid. This is his Mother, she should not be sad or scared or anything that isn't strong and reliable. He wants to ask her how he can fix himself and make himself right again – make her not sad but instead he looks away and tries to smile. The colors around him seem bathed in red and blacks.
The park is not far from his house. Here, he can train with bulls-eyes and several guardians nearby for assistance. It is an ideal setting and he feels light, better, at being able to get away from his parent's weird words and odd actions.
As he throws a kunai he sometimes thinks he sees a fox bounding along the edges of his vision. Every time he looks though, there is nothing there. All at once, the fox runs towards him, seven tails streaming out behind it, and a horrible monster, lumpy flesh and sand, roars from the edges of the forest. He can hear both of them – voices joined – yelling that he is a coward. A snake wraps around his waist and he fumbles for a kunai. He screams as it squeezes tighter and jabs a kunai down into the thick, scaly flesh. The snake disappears and there is a deep gash on the side of his waist, stretching across his hipbone. The blood drips down his legs like warm water, reminding him of when he was younger and peed in his pants. Someone is yelling for a medic, hands warm and soft guide him and then pick him up as his weight becomes to heavy to bear.
He wakes up at home, his mother once again sitting in the chair awkwardly beside him. She asks him what happened and he cannot answer. On the tip of his tongue is the word Orochimaru but he does not know who that is or what it means.
His brother comes home the next day. It is night when he enters the door, Anbu clothes muddy and worn but he is in good health. Sasuke makes sure to wear a shirt long enough to hide the bandages wrapped around his waist, and pants baggy enough so it won't be irritated.
Itachi glances at him but moves towards their father. Sasuke leaves the room, preferring to wait inside Itachi's room. He knows their father will just send him away, even if he asks to stay. As he leaves he can hear the low murmur of Itachi's and his Father's words mingling. He wonders what they talk about but closes the door to his curiosity.
Walking down the hallway, he suddenly wishes he waited for Itachi because the fake-Itachi is leaning against the door to Itachi's room, blocking his path. He is taller than his Itachi, with a cloak of black and red that wavers in and out of his vision. When Itachi walks forward, Sasuke takes a step back.
"Foolish little brother." The voice is low like a cat's purr and it makes his stomach muscles tighten in fear and anticipation.
He tries to remember his brother and how he would react, tries to gather that courage he knows is there. "Wh-what do you want?"
Instead, he does not get an answer but a question. "Why are you so weak?"
He doesn't know how to answer that. He knows that he is weak, compared to Itachi, compared to his Father, and even compared to his Mother. He knows these things but it does not mean he wants to be weak, that he doesn't try to improve.
"I-I don't—"
"You," Itachi rasps, words dark but the voice is darker. "Are nothing."
Sasuke takes a step back. His back hits the wall and Itachi takes out a katana. The blade glints in the scarce lighting and Sasuke can see blood on it. He wants to call for Itachi – his real brother – but the words will not come out.
The blade raises and goes straight into his skull. He can't scream even though his mouth is open and his jaw muscle is tight with pain as he arches and grips his head. His fingers are wet with blood.
The door behind him to the foyer where Itachi and his Father are, opens and the Itachi in front of him disappears. There is no blood on his hand even though his head still aches.
Itachi is watching him with cold eyes. His Father looks happy. He follows Itachi into his room and hears his father's footsteps pass by his brother's door. He sits on Itachi's bed, watching him undress. The image of Itachi naked and walking towards him is burned into his mind and he looks away, blushing. Itachi watches him as he undresses, Sasuke can feel his eyes. Neither of them says anything. Finally, once Itachi is dressed in nightclothes, he speaks. "Congratulations, little brother."
His head jerks up at the praise. The words Itachi said sound bitter, almost angry but Sasuke doesn't know why. He doesn't even know what his brother is congratulating him for. His confusion must show because Itachi stares at him for a long time, as if waiting for something – some outburst – but Sasuke does not move and Itachi almost looks disappointed.
"Are you not happy, little brother?" Itachi murmurs quietly so that Sasuke has to get up and step closer to clearly hear the words.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He answers.
Surprises flashes through his brother's eyes before it is quickly hidden. "Did Father not tell you?"
"No," he answers again. He juts his lower lip out for emphasis. "No one will tell me what's going on. Father seems happy about something and Mother seems scared but I don't know anything."
Itachi seems to relax at these words and he murmurs "foolish" under his breath. The word – the similarity – makes Sasuke stiffen at the memory of the other Itachi. His brother notices the sudden tenseness of Sasuke's frame. He looks away from Itachi's enquiring glance.
"Are you okay, little brother? You've been acting strange lately." Itachi gestures for him to come closer and he feels relief at his brother's willingness to be with him. Sasuke rushes forward and plops himself onto Itachi's bed, leaning into his brother's side. He feels safe. And then he feels terrified. Itachi was right here, beside him! He could feel his warmth seeping into the side of his arm but there – across from him – stood the other Itachi, blank faced and cold.
"Where is your hatred? Why are you so pathetic?"
Sasuke flinches at the term and turns towards his Itachi, burying his face into his brother's chest. He opens his mouth to form the words – make him go away please make him go away – but he can only mouth silently, lips brushing against his brother's shirt, as he twists the fabric in his hands.
"Sasuke?" His brother's question overpowers the demon in the room and he leans into his brother's hands, feeling his brother hold him loosely, hands rubbing against his back in a soothing gesture. He knows his brother is confused at his behavior. He always tries to appear strong for Itachi. He doesn't want Itachi to look down on him but he can't help it! This thing won't go away and he has never been more scared in his life.
Suddenly, there is a sharp, loud roar. It makes his ears scream in protest and he jerks upright, banging his head against Itachi's chin. He stares at the monstrosity before him. It is the blonde boy from before – the one in the street – but it isn't the blonde boy it only looks like him. There are deep whisker marks on the boy's cheeks – is it even human? – and seven fox-like tails sprout from its backside, flickering in agitation. Instead of fingers there are claws and the teeth seem to expand before his eyes and turn into dog-like canines. He scrambles away from the edge of the bed, trying to get away from that snarling face.
He can feel Itachi's hands reaching for him, touching him, but he pushes away until his back touches the wall. The boy – thing – is screaming at him and striding towards him. He stops right in front of the bed, thighs brushing against the bedspread.
"I would have died for you! Traitor! Murder! Asshole! You can't see anything can you? We were supposed to be friends! You talk as if I don't understand but damn if I don't have more common sense than you! I hate people like you! I would have helped you kill him! I would have helped you kill Itachi!"
He screams before he realizes what he is saying. "I would never kill Niisan!"
The blonde in front of him laughs, a cruel and twisted sound that reminds him of a cat snarling in pain. "I thought you said you would sell your soul to the devil if that is what it took to kill him."
He bends forward and Sasuke freezes. A hand, cold and burning against his skin, rubs against the back of his shoulder blade. "I forgot," he whispers, as if he was in great pain over the knowledge he was imparting. "You already did."
"Sasuke!"
He turns towards the sound of Itachi's voice. His brother is there, with him, but he is still not safe. It feels like the world has fallen out from beneath him – his brother cannot protect him from this. His neck burns and he feels like fire is twisting across his arms and neck, chest and face, as he realizes how alone he is.
"Niisan," he whispers into Itachi as he curls up against his brother, wiping his tears on the back of his hand. "I'm scared."
Itachi pulls him closer. "The Sharingan is a scary thing, little brother."