Theme: "Three times Sasuke wished he could go home."
Character(s): Uchiha Sasuke; brief mentions of Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Fugaku, Orochimaru
Pairing(s): None.
Warning(s): None.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words.
Note: Written as a reply to a 'Three Times Meme' request.
Dedicated to: Um... whoever made the request I suppose. Sorry it took so long. D:
Pride was not always a virtue to praise. It had taken him a long time to walk the tedious and winding road and come to that conclusion on his own. Growing up, it was something Fugaku valued over most everything - the village, the Hokage, even his own sons - and became a lesson that he taught still, even now so long after death. But bit by ever grueling bit, Sasuke was beginning to realize that it was more of a curse than a blessing; that it was the bane of every Uchiha to bear, draped in power and dripping with ambition for things beyond their reach. And that sickening pride was what had gotten his clan killed; what was likely to end up getting him killed one day as well.
It was a truth that he's not likely to soon forget. If he did, Orochimaru was there with a heavy hand to quickly remind him. Because even now, broken and bruised with the bitter taste of blood and sweat on his tongue, Sasuke held on to the Uchiha ego like a lifeline.
A swift boot to the face was often his reward for such blind devotion.
The soldiers of Sound were hardly forgiving in their spars. There was no holding back. There was nothing friendly about their daily competitions. Support and camaraderie generally only went as far as your own agenda allowed, and the concept of friendship was in short supply. Here, it was every man for themselves; every mission for Orochimaru.
And so the attacks continued to come even after he had been brought down, his body pounded into dirt and stone until the call was made to stop; until the battlefield was anointed in the dark streaks of his blood. And even then, Rinji always found a means to get in one more jab - one more stab - that would leave him aching until the week's end. Because he was no longer the hero they'd made him out to be in Konoha; he was no longer the genius prodigy of the rookie class.
Here, Sasuke was merely a flake in a blizzard of snow. And he would be treated as such until the message sunk. Pride had no place for those who carved out their own destiny in rotted stone and betrayal. And even if he let the regret eat away at his soul - if he allowed himself to wish for home - there could be no turning back. There was no going home. Because there was no home to go back to, anymore. He'd slammed shut that door the moment he stepped away from the village and all its teachings. And that had been his choice to make. And now it was his burden to carry, along with every other consequence that came with his defection.