AN: Sorry for taking so long! I had a really bad time adjusting to the morning shift I got moved to at work and took some time out to work on an original piece of fiction (not done, but I will find a way to share it with everyone). This is the end of this fic but it generated another idea that I'm thinking of exploring...I get so many ideas already tho ;~;
Thanks for reading!
-Val
000
Sarada had figured out, by this point, how to lucid dream. It began as meditating on the forest campsite dream before bed, trying to picture every detail of the scene. Pretty soon, she was able to dream it on command. So nearly every night, she dreamt it.
She made her own alterations to the scene, of course. A seating place for Uncle Itachi and for herself, a proper little bed for the baby-who-was-her. Little things to make it cozier. It quickly became a mental sanctuary of sorts. A comfort zone, even if there was nobody present who could provide it.
A place to safely imagine the sort of person Papa was without interference.
He had to be brave, and strong, like Mama'd said. Stoic, but not uncaring, if the photos were to be believed. And, she supposed, handsome, like Chouchou claimed. Boruto's parents were so cheerful and kind. Wasn't Papa friends with Uncle Naruto? They seemed resentful in old photos...
She stared at the fire, watching the tendrils of flame lick at the air.
(Itachi was surprised when it seemed that the dream-memory was made to pull him in.)
Uncle Itachi just appeared, like he was stepping through a doorway. He looked around the scene with interest, then knelt on the cushion.
"Hi." She waved.
"You made this?" he asked.
"Mhm!" She nodded. "I taught myself how to lucid dream. I think that's what it's called..."
He made a noise in the back of his throat. He smiled. "I'm impressed."
"R-really?"
(Itachi was mainly avoiding talking about Sasuke. He was unsure what to say, what to omit.)
"I've only managed it a few times." His eyes roved around the area again, eventually landing back onto her. "Do you dream this place every night?"
(He was genuinely impressed by this. He had a feeling her talents laid in genjutsu.)
"I try to…" She fiddled with her own fingers. "It's hard, even though I do it a lot…"
He reached out with two fingers and nudged her forehead. It was cold, like before. In the ensuing silence she gathered her courage to ask the question trapped behind her lips. She smiled weakly.
"Did you...get to meet Papa?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
For a moment, it seemed as if he had put on a neutral mask of an expression. It warmed up again instantly. "Yeah."
A warm spring bubbled through her stomach. She gripped the hem of her skirt with enough force to make the fabric burn her palms. "How-what was he like?"
(She was practically vibrating with anticipation, hope. The thought of compromising that with the bald truth...)
"He's still my little brother," he said, with a curl of his mouth. "Stubborn as always."
(He couldn't do it.)
"What do you mean?"
"Once he sets his mind to something, it is difficult to convince him otherwise." He laughed a little. "I think you'll understand once you meet him."
She inhaled sharply. Not quite a gasp. "He wants to see me?" she mumbled.
"...I believe so."
Her dream wobbled a little at the edges. "Do you know why he...went away?"
"He wanted to protect the village-"
"That's what Uncle Naruto said, too…" She tried not to sound too disappointed.
He leaned forward with a soft, concerned frown. "A lot of terrible things happened during the war. Sasuke doesn't want them to happen again. Not to you, or anyone."
She didn't know what to say to that.
Itachi went on. "But...he didn't realize he had hurt his precious people in the process."
(He ached, deep in his chest.)
Mama and Uncle Naruto had said that before…'precious people.' Family. Friends. Neighbors. Uncle Naruto had even said once that the entire village counted. "M...me?"
"You. And your mother. And Naruto and his family." He smiled, fully. "I think he'd want to talk with you."
She felt hard pain in her throat, the preamble to tears.
"I believe it is time for me to take my leave," he said. It was clear he meant for good this time.
They both stood in one motion. Their little clearing was graying out. At the corners of her vision, it turned into wisps. Soon, the two of them were the only blips of color.
"Yeah," she replied. "I...I'm glad I…you..."
He put his hands on her shoulders. At least, the gesture of it. "I understand."
"Thank you." She knotted her fingers together at her chest.
It seemed like the right thing to say. Her feelings and thoughts were tangling into a mess of noodles. Chouchou would probably have wanted to eat it, with spicy broth and pork. She stifled a hysterical bubble of laughter.
(Idly, he wondered why a tether to the living world had formed at the point it did, but he supposed it didn't matter.)
(That tether was thinning out, fraying rapidly.)
"Uncle Itachi?" she tried. "I...I wanna remember this."
A distant, sad look. Like his previous visit. He was clearly turning something over in his head, weighing something. Then he smiled.
"You recalled the first one. And made this dream." There was something warm and proud in his voice. "What does that tell you?"
"Oh," she said. She looked, really looked at him. "I won't forget you. I...I don't want to."
"That's correct." His hand moved strangely, then it hovered mid-air, as if he were trying to do something he forgot how. "I don't believe I will forget you, either."
He reached out two fingers.
"Goodbye, Sarada."
