The words she said to him still ring through her, sometimes.
One day...
Sometimes, she wonders if it was enough.
You'll realize what a mistake you've made.
Was it enough to make him doubt himself? Was it enough to make him want to return?
One day...
She had failed that mission. It was the most important mission she was to do, and yet she failed it. It was for the honour of the Third, who had died. For the protection of Konoha, where she lived.
You'll wish you never left for such a reason as 'power'.
He was the last of his line, someone they needed to keep safe in fear of extinction of a trait. The Uchiha line was needed to ensure the potential future of Konoha. That bloodline ability was powerful, it needed to be preserved.
It was vital that the boy be brought home.
One day...
It was vital she complete the mission and bring him back to Konoha. Yet when the opportunity presented itself, she ignored it. She did not touch him, she did not capture him like she was ordered to. She did nothing, though she knew it was all too possible to fight him and win.
You'll miss everything.
She just leaned against the wall and watched him as he stood rigid with his bag on his back, analyzing everything with those sharingan eyes. He was twelve, maybe thirteen at that time. She, seventeen, on the cusp of her eighteenth birthday. Three more days and she would be of legal age to drink away the failure she was bound to have from that mission.
You're so young.
She knew he was determined to leave. She saw the curse mark on his neck, knew he had been tainted by promising words. His faith had been shifted from Konoha and onto Orochimaru. Enka knew how little her words would mean at that moment, how futile any attempt to return him to Konoha would be.
Faith was the hardest thing to break.
So was I.
Maybe it was because of her ANBU mask that he had stood there for so long, waiting, anticipating, almost hoping for an attack to happen. But she did nothing, and eventually his stoic form broke and he relaxed – still analyzing, yet less hostile. He said nothing, merely stared at her, and she saw his eyes travel up and down her body.
He was a smart boy, everyone knew that. The Uchiha was a prodigy, yet not the best. He was not Kakashi, he was no Itachi. There was never a chance for him to beat out his older brother, and yet he clung to any and every hope he had of it to avenge a family that was murdered by the village. He wouldn't know that, though, not yet. She wasn't about to tell him, either, nor was anyone else in those times. He was too young, he wouldn't understand.
Sasuke regarded her harshly, questioning what she knew, who she was, what she wanted. She didn't answer immediately, taking off her ANBU mask instead. If there was anything she wanted in that moment, it was his belief. Maybe she wanted him to have faith in her words, maybe she wanted to feel something with him in those moments. Maybe she just wanted to know that she had gotten through to the Uchiha. She didn't understand it, no, but she knew it was the right thing to do; exposing her face made her seem like less of a threat, made him ease up.
She could feel it in his mind, that fading hostility, the building resentment for not only her, but Konoha, everything he once believed in...
And then it broke. He yelled out at her, stating his angle, his reason, his everything. Itachi consumed him, his hatred crushing the love he once had for his older brother, the pride he had once felt for being related to the prodigal ninja, the admiration and idolization of the man he wanted to become.
She listened to his words, never moving from her lax position against the half-broken wall of a village's ruins. He claimed she didn't understand, didn't know what he felt, what was in his mind. How could he have known about her, about how much she did know of his mind...?
Power attained through rage and vengeance is fleeting and distant.
With rage in those red eyes, he stared at her as she spoke, still analyzing her for any form of a threat she would give. She was a Konoha ninja, he was a runaway. No matter how much his mind wanted to accept her, his heart wouldn't stand down; she would hurt him if he wasn't careful.
You'll spend an eternity reaching and training for it, becoming stronger and stronger. You'll build your life onto attaining it.
She was beautiful, and it killed him to know that she was his enemy. There was something about her that made him feel attached already. Maybe it was her allure, that mysterious feel of her presence. Maybe it was her calm, even words, the way she spoke like she knew everything but wasn't being cocky.
Maybe she reminded him of the old Itachi he once adored.
In another life, maybe they could have been friends. She could have guided him the right way with her knowledgeable words. In this life, though, he was destined to leave. She hadn't been present in his past, that brief moment of chatter the only grace he ever had of that woman.
One day, you'll attain that power, and for a moment you'll have your revenge. But when your target lays dead and your power runs away, the life you've built on revenge will crumble.
He saw her eyes lower when she spoke, like she was remembering, thinking, watching a scene unfold in places he couldn't see. Somehow, it angered him.
So you'll have no power, no life. There's a hole in your being that can't be filled, the place that vengeance had been placed before. Your life will have no purpose.
He claimed he could die after that. He didn't care if his life had a purpose, he didn't care for anything. As long as he got his revenge, he could die and be happy.
She laughed at that, a kind of empty snicker that sounded too hollow to be of amusement.
Yeah, you'll tell yourself that. But when it comes to dying, you won't want to. You'll sit there with the knife to your throat, secure in the fact that your revenge is over and you're ready to die. Yet you won't be able to bring it across. You'll be weak, you'll stop, maybe you'll cry.
He said he wouldn't chicken out, he would never kill himself. He wouldn't do anything so dishonorable.
Maybe it was the way he worded it or how he was talking out of blind rage, but she grew tired of him. She pushed off the wall, took meaningful steps towards him.
He was unable to move as she approached, and when her hand landed on his shoulder, he felt something of a shock run through him. It wasn't something he could control; she wasn't normal. Normal people would've hit him, they would have attacked. Yet she grabbed his shoulder, not rough, not comforting. Just a grab, as to throw him out of danger, out of himself, out of his mind...
Sometimes living is more dishonorable than suicide. Sometimes you grow so sick of yourself that you can't stand the thoughts in your head, the sound of your voice, the way you always show up in mirrors or pictures or the way people acknowledge you like you're fine, like you didn't do something horrible. Like you're not empty.
There was a danger in her eyes that chilled him. He could have been afraid, he could have wanted to hit her, perhaps he could have wanted to get away. Sasuke didn't know anything in those moments, though. He didn't know what to do. He had been faced with tears of another before, he had seen death and protected his teammates. He had trained and trained and spilled his blood and other's blood and killed. He had faced many things in his life, yet nothing was as destructive in his life as the voided look of her blue-grey eyes, the way her voice seemed to echo in his mind, its own separate entity inside his.
One day, you'll realize I'm right. You'll realize leaving Konoha was a bad decision, that everything that man offered you was fake and one-sided. One day, you'll want to return, but you won't be welcome.
She released him, stepped backwards, put her mask back on like she never had it off.
From here on, the whole of Konoha will consider you a missing-nin. You'll be hunted wherever you go, but not for death; death would be too merciful. If you return after you've been gone, you may be killed on sight, in front of those who once loved you. They may even be the ones who kill you. Maybe you'll be spared and put to prison. Or they may torture you. Your being and everything thereof is a weapon, and you're putting it in enemy hands. You're a traitor to Konoha in their eyes.
As she turned to walk back to town, he stood where he was, and posed a question that would haunt her. Such few words, yet it held so much meaning to the girl.
It had been said before, in different contexts, different meanings, different ways, all by different people. Yet it struck home most when it came from him, his voice even like he knew what he was doing despite being so young.
What am I in your eyes?
She stood there, unable to answer for a moment. It took her off guard; she thought the conversation had ended. She wasn't ready to answer anything, wasn't prepared to talk anymore than she had. Already she was wiped, not only by the memories he had brought on, but of the effort of stopping him, the strain of imagining the punishment that would come her way when she returned unsuccessful in her mission too bold a thing.
You're a teenager.
That was the last she saw of the boy. She had heard of many rescue missions sent to retrieve him or get a lead. She knew where he was going, knew what he was doing and what he was aiming for. Within that one meeting, she knew more about him then all of Konoha.
Yet when the high council asked for her opinion, when they regarded her on the mission and what was to be done now that she failed, she said nothing.
Why hadn't she sold him out...?
Why hadn't she captured him?
It was shortly after that she was banished from Konoha for her actions on the mission, her stance on the matter of his retrieval.
She was a traitor to Konoha.
If she were to return, she could be killed on sight. Someone she considered a friend may be the one to do it.
Maybe she'd be spared and put to prison.
Maybe they'd torture her.
Everything of her was traitorous.
She could never return home.
And as the clock struck midnight and she turned eighteen, she left that town.
For three hours, she did not halt for anything or anyone.
For three hours, she kept her head low and stayed to the shadows.
And three hours away, at the ruined village where she had encountered that boy, she started her new life.
…
The sun was high up when she made it home.
She left earlier that morning before Shikamaru had awaken, and he was gone before she returned. Normally that was how it worked, but sometimes he was there, sometimes she didn't leave for her usual jobs. Occasionally, they would lounge around with one another for a full day, basking in their time together, for neither knew how long it would last.
She never told him about her past.
He didn't know she was a traitor.
And it was how they enjoyed it.
But that day was different. When she entered her home, there were sounds. Scuffling, shuffling, seldom banging.
She wasn't afraid. It wouldn't be the first time ANBU had found her, it certainly wouldn't be the last. So she marched towards the noise, faced the intruder head on, ready for whatever enemy was there.
Bandits, robbers, ANBU or anything worse, she could handle.
She could take on the Akatsuki, were they there. She was confident she could best any abomination thrown at her.
But what she saw was something she couldn't handle.
Blond hair, blue eyes, an orange jumpsuit.
Uzumaki Naruto.
No, she wouldn't be able to handle him.