The Atrophy and Redemption of Uchiha Sasuke
Chapter Two: Incarceration in the Pit of Hell
The harsh winds swept Sakura's hair in a whirlpool of rosette disarray about her head as she dropped down into the chilly passageway. Her emerald eyes searched back and forth in the darkness before she spun on her heel and began sprinting in the direction leading into the hellish depths of the prison.
The distant drip drip drip of the condensation falling from the black rock walls that towered intimidatingly around her filled Sakura's ears, next to her almost silent footfalls on the rough granite ground. Gusts of freezing wind plunged into the narrow passageway through holes in the ceiling, where rounded pieces of rock had been hammered out every ten feet along the top of the path, for the sake of ventilation in the hidden structure.
Filtering the darkness with chakra-enhanced eyes, Sakura carefully counted the number of breakaway halls that branched out from the main tunnel she was speeding through.
According to her friend with the flirty gray eyes, whose name was Shiro or something of the like, the southeastern corner of the seemingly archaic mountain prison housed the most dangerous S-rank criminals.
It had been ridiculously easy to lower the Rock ninja's inhibitions with a simple concoction that Tsunade had ordered Sakura to master when she was only twelve. That, combined with his inebriation, had turned Shiro into a talkative fool.
Afterwards, she had knocked him out by shooting chakra into his pressure points and left him in a shallow bamboo clearing right next to the inn.
Running Shiro's babbled admissions through her head, the pinkette had made the two-day journey to the largest mountain range just outside of Iwagakure, where the snowless winter chillingly licked across hills and into crevasses in the form of constant torrents of breeze. There, the dampened black rock cradled a stream until it fell and cascaded down into the only river of pure water in Iwagakure.
Upon hearing a strange whistling of wind, Sakura had discovered an odd stretch of granite that appeared to be flattened out by force. At first glance the dark rock looked smooth, until the young medic's eyes spotted a trail of craters that were three feet in diameter.
All she had to do was drop down into one of the hidden openings, and she found herself directly in the pit of the underground prison.
Left.
Right.
Right.
Or was it left?
Even with chakra, it was nearly impossible to make out anything in the darkness besides the pitch dark smudges on the walls, which Sakura assumed were the narrow entrances Shiro vaguely described under his thick veil of alcohol. The openings in the rock led to small rooms, each containing at least two filthy prison cells.
Sakura padded to a sudden stop, her senses detecting faint chakra networks coming her way. The sound of leisurely footsteps made itself known not long after.
Options whirred in her brain and within seconds her lithe body was pressed into a crevasse-like impression embedded in the rough surface of the wall. Casting a simple genjutsu and then regulating her chakra, she squeezed herself into the shadows as tightly as possible, and winced at the feeling of jagged rock digging into her back.
Three jounin dressed in traditional Iwagakure armor walked by, their shinobi boots kicking up water that nearly splashed Sakura's genjutsu-laden legs. The medic's nerves sent her heart into her throat and she reached out blindly with one hand to keep her balance.
But instead of finding purchase on rock, her shaking hand grasped the cool edge of something smooth and metallic.
Her verdant eyes peered down the dark hall where she had come from. Once satisfied that the Rock Nin had gone, she released the illusion covering her and began to run her hands over the metal surface she had just discovered.
It seemed to span about an arm's length across and stretched high above her head. A smirk drew across Sakura's face. Upon the realization that she had found exactly what Shiro told her to look for, beads of sweat began to form on her large forehead.
It was a door.
From the pouch at her thigh Sakura plucked a senbon, and felt for the lock midway down the slab of steel. The pinkette's brow furrowed. She sensed a chakra barrier inside the lock mechanism, which luckily seemed to have been carelessly placed. With a flick of her wrist, she redirected the chakra and used her trusty senbon to unlock the door before the barrier slid back into place.
With a screeching creak, the door yielded to the press of Sakura's hand, succeeding in adding a lovely layer of dust onto her pink head. However, before she could reach up to ruffle the debris from her damp locks, her attention was completely stolen by the sight before her.
A hallway about one hundred paces long stretched beyond the secret opening, a torch lighting up the area on the far wall. One cell occupied the wall on the left of the torch, and another cell was to the right.
Sakura squinted through the dust and became well aware of the smothering effect of the darkness inside, despite the dull glow being emitted from the torch. The cell on the left had its barred door swinging freely on its hinges at the gust of fresh air that was let in upon the young woman's entrance. The lack of a locked—much less closed—cell door indicated that it was empty.
With a sense of wariness, she turned to observe the cell opposite the vacant one.
It was firmly shut.
Sakura's side-view alone allowed her to see that several locking mechanisms adorned the door like sick wall decorations. More chakra barriers buzzed and glowed inside the locks; they were much stronger than the one on the metal door. However, she could not see inside from where she was standing. The weak glow of the torch barely reached inside the dark reaches of the cell. Sakura's heart sunk into her stomach.
Having always been a smart girl, she approached nearly every situation rationally and with reason, except for during the more crucial moments when her emotions seemed to control her. Unfortunately, all those instances had gone straight to hell.
As she kept her gaze locked on the metal bars of the cell door, she sincerely hoped this would not be one of those times.
The pinkette began to approach the barred room, all the while trying to maintain composure. Strangely enough, the only chakra signature she could sense was the hum of her own muted one. If she hadn't known what to expect (in reality she still wasn't completely sure, if she was honest with herself), Sakura might have been intimidated by the obvious skill with which the prisoner masked chakra. Even some of the most seasoned ninja exuded an odd static sensation where their chakra should be.
But not then.
Nothing.
She swallowed idly in front of the cell as she analyzed the intricate patterns that formed the cell's seal mechanism. Water splashed rhythmically onto her hair from above, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin.
The medic peered closer into the depths of the tiny, dank room but could not make out any signs of life. A bead of sweat trickled teasingly from the young woman's temple to her feminine and pale chin, where it dropped to join the cool condensation on the mountain floor. Her pink tongue darted out briefly to run across her bottom lip, before she reached out to tackle this set of locks.
Minutes elapsed before Sakura was able to determine the proper chakra configuration.
"Thank you, Kaka-sensei." Sakura murmured under her breath. With a burst of chakra, the seal dissipated, causing the complicated mechanisms to click and unlock, the sound rupturing the silence.
The door opened slightly, a beckoning creak making this encounter seem suddenly, terribly real.
Oh, Kami. Sakura released her bottom lip from between her teeth and reached out to grasp one of the thick metal bars. She really hoped that it would be a while before the guards came by again during rounds or to feed the prisoners.
She barely remembered opening the door and found herself entering the pitch room. The darkness and unsettling quiet began to close in around her and a choking sensation rose unbidden in her lungs. Her inner made an unwanted appearance and began pestering.
You can't be panicking. What kind of kunoichi is afraid of the dark?
Sakura frowned and almost surged forward until instinct yanked her back by her floral pink locks. What the hell was she doing here anyway? She should have sent word to Tsunade first and not let her emotions compromise the recon mission. Grief began to creep up on her until she was completely submerged beneath its murky surface.
The truth hurt. It hurt a lot.
She forgave him. Of course she did. She would always forgive him.
But—dammit—this man could still kill her.
It wasn't like he had any inhibitions to do so before, although his behavior at the end of the war made it unlikely. Nevertheless, the jumpy civilian part of her couldn't help but conjure up images of him waiting, lurking in the depths of the cell with secretly honed stealth, as if he were a predator . . .
He could kill her if he got free, spill her blood across the stone and dirt floor before she even got a chance to look into his black, black eyes one more time.
Her panicking hit a shrieking crescendo.
Sakura reached down and reflexively fingered the shuriken in her weapons pouch. She shouldn't be here, she really shouldn't—
A faint clanging of chains shredded the silence.
The pinkette froze.
Ironically, rather than strike her with fear, the sound steeled her resolve. She could do this. She had to do this.
Trying not to wonder if the prisoner could see her through the inky blackness, the young medic renewed her courage and stepped forward, casting her fears into the farthest reaches of her overactive mind, and entered.
After the initial clanging of chakra-charged chains, the silence remained pervasive. Sakura, however, refused to back down and sent chakra spiraling through her optical nerves.
She grinned.
Appearing on the surrounding rock structure, bumps and crags began to become visible. Sakura's bright green eyes adapted easily to the dark, allowing her to make out the hazy silhouette of a male figure slumped against the cell's far wall. A shiver slithered down the young medic's spine—as an instinctual warning or a sign of fear, she could not be sure.
I'm an idiot. She snarled to herself.
After all, she wasn't even sure it was him. She closed her eyes in recollection, wondering what the prisoner thought of her unexplained presence. Could he make out her shape as well?
The water on the black cell floor pooled around her ninja boots as Sakura kneeled down onto her wrapped knees. The figure, still barely visible, remained slumped four feet in front of her, but Sakura could see the multitude of chains encircling his body, chakra buzzing through the metal and keeping the most threatening parts of his body hindered.
The fact that Sakura couldn't see where exactly the chains burrowed into the jagged wall flashed fleetingly through her mind.
Suddenly the prisoner began to shift and his muscles tensed when he realized that he was no longer alone. He silently cursed himself for yielding to yet another bout of agony-inducing unconsciousness.
Sakura observed him cautiously and drew closer and closer once she was sure her life was in no immediate danger. With every shuffle she took on her knees, her view of the man steadily grew clearer. She was in awe of how threateningly powerful he still managed to appear when half-dead. Several seconds elapsed in the silence, and Sakura could hear nothing but her own heartbeat thundering unforgivingly in her chest.
The man shifted again, revealing to the medic a violent gash on his torso. Small streams of blood dribbled from the wound and onto the rest of his bruised abdomen. Only the tattered remains of a once-white shirt remained on his upper body, and were accompanied by a badly worn pair of dark, standard shinobi pants.
A horrified and slightly shocked Sakura watched as slowly, very slowly, the young man's head rose, his dark ebony tresses shifting and obscuring the filthy gauze bandages around his head even further.
Fear briefly panged her heart at the sight of his eyes being wrapped, as if . . . as if . . .
With a gasp, her hand flew to cover her mouth. Tears leaked from her eyes and her chest cavity feigned the sensation of being torn open.
It was undeniable now.
Despite his eyes being covered and his face appearing as one large bruise, there was no denying that his shell of a man that had been beaten to death's borderline was indeed Uchiha Sasuke.
Sakura reached out a shaky hand as her tears fell freely and left clean streaks meandering down her dirty face. Her vision was eclipsed by the glistening overhang of liquid; all her other senses seemed to become numb to reality.
Oh, Sasuke.
All she wanted to do in the unity of that one moment was to touch him, to prove that this was not just a dream, and that she wouldn't wake up sobbing in her bed back home in the unwanted comfort of Konoha.
But before her fingertips could even make contact with Sasuke's beaten skin, he shifted once again. Stunned and inwardly badgering herself for being so flighty, Sakura snatched her hand away and watched the rogue with a mixture of caution and longing. In hindsight, their relationship had always been this way. They had once been comrades, yes, but was there anything left of a bond that had never even quite made it out of its tentative stages?
He had proven that his bond with Naruto still remained intact during the final battles, but what of her and him? Sakura and Sasuke.
Was there anything left to salvage?
As she looked at him then, the familiar sense of hopelessness, the sensation of being twelve again, began to creep up on her in the form of sorrow. It was so ironic that Sasuke seemed to be ignoring her even now. Sakura looked him up and down more carefully, almost afraid of what she would see.
Sure enough, the Uchiha had been beaten cruelly and neglected during his forced stay, like he was a traitor deserving of the most inhumane punishment possible. But wasn't that who he was, despite his change of sides mid-war: a traitorous rogue of Konoha?
The wounds he had gained during the war had obviously gone untreated and the medic in Sakura cringed to think of the possible infection that could have set in after a month. While Sakura was sure Sasuke could barely stand in his condition—much less attack her or anyone else—he was an Uchiha, and she'd learned enough to know it was certain death to underestimate one.
The shackles chaining Sasuke's arms to the wall, although Sakura could not seem to see the ends of the link strands through the darkness, clanked together as he straightened his back and lifted his pale neck until his blinded gaze was positioned straight ahead. It seemed to Sakura that he could see right through the blindfold and into her. Surprised and somewhat nervous as well, Sakura wondered that it took this long for her presence to rouse him. Perhaps he was more inured that she initially thought.
However, the kunoichi knew he was completely alert, listening carefully to his surroundings; that his genius mind was calculating hundreds of his options without missing a single beat.
A painful wave of nostalgia washed over her Sakura. He had always been this way. No matter what affliction befell him, Sasuke had always been this way. It was so agonizing to recognize that while certain lovable facets about Sasuke never changed, he was still very much a stranger to her.
The relationship between Sasuke and Naruto had always been simple but strong, easily definable. But Sakura's tenuous relationship with him was woven together with a tension that they never seemed able to overcome—perhaps because Sasuke was Sasuke, or because once Sakura had begun to truly understand him, it was already too late.
Yet, after everything, after all the pains of war and tragedy, this jaded young man with unruly raven hair and damaged eyes would always, always undeniably be Sasuke.
And that was enough for Sakura.
It was enough for Naruto. That was why they never gave up on the last Uchiha, and that was why it was terrible to see him like this, no matter the decisions he had made.
Perhaps that was why she had disobeyed protocol so easily and infiltrated the prison without notifying Konohagakure or Iwagakure authorities. Neither did she feel guilty; at the very least, Kakashi would be proud of her.
Seeing her ex-teammate broken and so physically worn, bloodied and borderline insane.
It hurt. Badly.
Sakura could only find consolation in the fact that, like Naruto, Sasuke was beyond stubborn and would not be fazed by any physical torment. She'd always admired this about the wayward Uchiha; he had the ability to seamlessly and instantaneously switch from being the prey to becoming the predator. He was all fighter, a hellion, something dangerous, and an unholy weapon that thirsted for justice in ways rooted in the darkness. It made him easily manipulated, but seemingly undefeatable if he was able to overcome his emotional weaknesses, just as he had during the war.
This young man had held vendetta in his hands and had tasted true, pure power.
But was this what his vengeance and pride had brought him? A dank prison cell and what appeared to be a paralyzed birthright?
Just as she had at the inn, Sakura continued to ponder the past of Team Seven; the tragedies, the disappointments, and the fond memories of an easier time. But nothing was ever easy for them, was it?
The room's stillness ended and there was a shift in the air. It was as if the prisoner too had been thinking. About what, Sakura could not guess.
More dark blood oozed from the fresh wound. Sakura's thoughts became scathing. The damn prisoned medics hadn't even tried to bandage or clean his wound properly—if they had even attempted to at all.
Then Sasuke tilted his head as if contemplating whether or not his visitor was worthy to be spoken to.
A shiver ran down the young medic's back, causing her to struggle to hold her breath in order to smother a pensive gasp, a sense of anxiety flooding the cell's atmosphere, before the buzz of silence was shattered completely by a complacent grunt of acknowledgement.
"Hn."
Sakura's eyes widened at the sound of his voice and waited with bated breath.
"Sakura."
And all at once, the pinkette gasped as the air was expelled violently from her lungs.
Although his tone was low and weak, and his voice raspy, it seemed to echo around the tiny holding cell and out into the endless reaches of the universe. The lackadaisical monotone thrummed deep into her soul and awoke a burning flame that she had kept carefully smothered for years. Then again, he always did make her feel as if she was falling apart.
When she tried to speak to him, Sakura found that her own voice was also husky from the shock of actually seeing Sasuke again, this close after so long.
"Sasuke," she rasped, "are you in pain?"
His only response was a droll snort. However, the minute and carefully restrained shaking of his muscles betrayed the fact that he was indeed in absolute agony.
But leave it to him to deny it so vehemently.
Sakura swallowed her tears and shook her head just as violently. Her knees splashed the water as she shuffled forward until she was settled just before her ex-teammate.
"Let me heal you, Sasuke," she insisted, bringing her healing hands up to the cut at his abdomen, "you're bleeding and it might be infec—"
"Tch. You shouldn't be here." Sasuke turned his head to the side. But despite the glower on his face, he didn't make any move to shove her away.
The pinkette pursed her lips with determination as she urgently rushed her cool healing chakra into the angry, red gash on the Uchiha's stomach. It was all she could do to block out the memory of Sasuke being swung into a cliff's rock face after being hit across the chest by the enemy's war fan.
"Why are you here," his tone was dead, drained of the standard curiosity one would expect in a question.
"I—" Sakura cursed herself for stuttering, "I came to find you. Everyone thinks you're dead, and I just want—"
"What you want is none of my concern."
Sakura's eyes narrowed. Apparently he still retained the ability to be absolutely infuriating. When she spoke again her voice was clipped.
"Fine," the irritated medic removed her hands from their position above his wound, which had healed into a deep pink scar, still fresh but no longer fatal. She was still concerned; there was no time to eliminate any possible infections. "But we have to leave here now."
Sasuke's head tilted as if he was considering her words, "You're a fool if you think I'll follow you freely," but then he shattered all her hopes of him ever returning with her.
A dam bursting within Sakura upon hearing his dismissive response, she leaned forward without thinking, her hands clutching at Sasuke's now bony shoulders harder than she intended.
"Why won't you come home?" she demanded, voice breaking. "After all that's happened since you left, why can't you return? Why won't you?"
Despite the emotional rise in her voice, the Uchiha administered no response.
Realizing that her face had drawn very close to Sasuke's during her plea, Sakura released her death grip on the young man's biceps and reeled back until she was settled on her haunches a comfortable distance away..
She couldn't look at him anymore.
"Sasuke-kun," as she cast her gaze down at the filthy floor and idly ran a finger through the cool water at her feet, her voice grew softer. She didn't even register the forlorn utterance of an honorific long forgotten. Looking back, she would find herself wondering if he noticed, "I don't understand."
She chanced a glance at Sasuke and saw that he hadn't moved.
The gauze wrapped messily about his head didn't seem to be bothering him in the least, but Sakura found herself reaching up to unwind them, "Your eyes . . . are they . . . ?"
"No," he turned his head away, matted ebony hair swaying at the sudden snap.
Sakura sighed in frustration and reached down to touch the chains keeping Sasuke in this hell. Her verdant eyes attempted to find where the chains met the rocks, before they were pulled violently away from her. The pinkette leapt backwards in a panic, narrowly missing being hit in the head with the long chain as Sasuke flung it out with a sweep of a thin, but still muscular arm.
Upon her forehead sweat began to bead. Her eyes widened as pure panic and adrenaline monopolized her system.
"Sasuke, wha—"
She couldn't speak. All she could do was watch. He breathed heavily, muscles coiling beneath his skin, which had always been pale, but was now almost sickly white under the influence of weeks without sun exposure.
Sakura held her breath, looking on as he managed to shift a shaky leg beneath him and stood.
One alabaster hand gripped a protruding part of the mountain wall beside him, the other pressing against his freshly healed wound. All Sakura wanted to do was rush to his side but she was frozen still, eyes zeroing in on his anguished face. He looked both furious and in unspeakable pain.
"Sasuke," she gasped out, "what are you doing?" she stepped towards him, "Be careful! Don't—"
The pinkette cut herself off when Sasuke pushed himself away from the wall and stood up to his full height. He reached up one hand to pull the weathered strips of dirt-gray, blood-stained cloth from his upper body, revealing numerous more lacerations and what appeared to be burn marks. Sakura grew sickened in realization.
They had tortured him.
The broken Uchiha stood still for a moment. Sakura assumed he hadn't been able to stand in days and was attempting to regain his sense of balance.
It destroyed her to see him like this, weak and stumbling. Seeing him in such a state when they were genin had always caused her to break down in tears, and it looked like this fact wouldn't ever change.
The gauze fell deftly to the floor and began steadily soaking up the dirty water. But Sakura didn't notice.
Instead, she watched as Sasuke cautiously prodded at the skin around his eyes as if it were painfully tender. The eyes—Itachi's eyes—themselves were bloodshot, the destructive ability that came with the horrible ocular powers of the Uchiha masked by their appearance. Uchiha Sasuke, standing before the young medic, would look like nothing more than a broken warrior to any spectator. But to her—to Haruno Sakura—looking into his eyes after so long could be likened to the most addictive of drugs.
She realized then why they had been bandaged. It was obvious he had drastically overused his Amaterasu and Susano'o during the war, and although the stress wouldn't impair his vision because of his Eternal Mangekyou, dried waterfalls of blood were visibly caked around his eyes. Sasuke lifted his head to look at her.
With the effort, his shoulders heaved up and down, "That place is no longer my home."
He said it with such resolution, such conviction, that Sakura almost agreed with him.
"But it is your home, Sasuke," she moved slightly, trying to subtly block the entrance with her body, "The elders are responsible for what happened to your clan, not Konoha."
Sasuke only snorted weakly, causing the desperate pinkette's sense of urgency to rise. She knew she wasn't getting through to him. Hell, if Naruto couldn't, what gave her the gall to think that she would have a chance?
But, as Tsunade would say, she was nothing if not stubborn.
"Sasuke, you have to return with me. What else will you do?" with a sweep of her hand, she gestured manically to the small cell. "Do you want to remain a prisoner forever?"
"Konoha," the rogue ninja spat the word as if it was the very scum of his world, "Konoha is responsible for the death of all I knew as a child. For my clan's disgrace. Their deaths. And for . . ." his voice retained its malice, yet his tone greatly softened underneath his sorrow, "for the torment of my brother."
His head bowed in what Sakura perceived was guilt. Itachi would forever be a vessel of memories, both precious and haunting, for the young but jaded Uchiha.
Then he spoke the words that the young medic had always known would be the outcome of this war.
"I no longer wish to live out my vengeance, but I cannot live in a village that destroyed my past."
"We are your family, Sasuke," she pleaded, "Team Seven. So please, please come back. Kakashi and Naruto, they'll always care about you. I care about you," the pinkette's shoulders slumped. "You should know that by now, Sasuke-kun."
Characterized by an odd mixture of exasperation and amusement, a scoff from the young man brought Sakura's gaze back to her ex-teammate.
She tried to approach him again, but he moved his arm—the chains crested over the granite ground at the movement, their threatening presence as a weapon keeping the medic at bay.
Once he was sure that Sakura would keep her distance, the Uchiha slumped back against the wall with one hand covering his closed eyes, as if they were overly sensitive to even the light-vanquished darkness inside the mountain. The chains that linked Sasuke inside this hell weighed down heavily on his limbs, cutting bloody fissures into the thin flesh of his wrists and ankles. With watery eyes, Sakura followed the length of the binds until they disappeared beyond her sight and into—
It made sense.
The serious cuff wounds. The reason she hadn't been able to see where the chains met the wall.
Sasuke had already broken them.
With a gasp, Sakura watched as he straightened and pushed himself off from the wall. He suddenly didn't appear so weak anymore, and the pinkette wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or frightened.
"Hn," Sasuke smirked; blood poured from the corner of his lip, "You've always had annoying timing."
Besides the young medic's own life energy, an overwhelming burst of ominous chakra flared and practically shook the granite foundation of the mountain.
Black tomoe spinning rapidly and eyes glowing vermillion, Sasuke crouched and gripped his right arm with his other hand; before Sakura could realize what he intended to do, the prison cell exploded with such a force that the pinkette was knocked off her feet and flung violently into the opposite cell, causing debris to fly through the air with a catapulting force; the eruption of powerful jutsu utterly destroyed the surrounding terrain, rupturing the darkness with a blinding, wrathful paroxysm of stark white light.
A/N: Whew. That chapter was a doozy to write, so I really hope you read the heck out of it. Figures Sasuke would escape just as soon as Sakura shows up...
So what do you think will happen? Will Sasuke get away and disappear altogether? What can Sakura do, now that Sasuke has slipped her grasp yet again?
Hopefully you liked the setup of the prison; I didn't want to go the typical route, so tell me if I succeeded or not. And if you like Samurai Champloo, I've posted a oneshot recently, so go ahead and indulge in it if you want. There is also a poll on my profile if you are interested in participating.
For those of you that are wondering how old Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura are in this story, I intended for them to be around the same age they are right now in the present manga chapters, seeing as it takes place shortly after the war. So, they are about sixteen or seventeen years in age.
Thank you very, very much for reading, and please review because I truly want to know what you think!