Title: "Out of the Sky"

Author: Shaitanah

Rating: R (overall)

Timeline: post-394

Summary: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? [Itachi and Sasuke; no yaoi] Please R&R!

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's Almost Out of the Sky. Lyrics from The Wizard of Oz. I must confess Sasuke's list was inspired by the list of Things More Pleasant Than Nathan from Come Together by Josie Lloyd and Emlyn Rees.

A/N: This is getting more and more like crack… Angsty crack! Why not? Thank you for your wonderful reviews, guys! Now that exams are killing me, you're really working wonders with me.


Chapter 4

I Can Has My Sanity Back Now?

We're off to see the Wizard,

The wonderful Wizard of Oz!

I started out my umpteenth morning with quite an enjoyable task: making up an organized list of things more pleasant than Itachi. Those included:

-nosebleed

-food poisoning

-sweets

-girls (noisy and loud ones fighting for something I was never willing to give a.k.a. my attention)

-the rest of the Akatsuki.

It didn't exactly make me feel good, but it prevented me from a general collapse into mind-melting paranoia.

Oh yes, today was the schizophrenia day! I kept looking around, expecting some random enemies to pop out of every bush (even if there was clearly no place to hide behind the said bush) and moreover, I was expecting Itachi to do something nasty. Suspicions chewed me up like a day old sandwich, so in order to give myself a break I kept working on the list.

Itachi was quiet (big surprise!), and we hadn't come across the infamous tree yet. Not even once. Perhaps we were finally walking in the right direction. It annoyed me. Not that I wanted to stay in this charming forest forever, mind you. But the thought of him being right as always was driving me out of my mind.

Yeah, like something these days wasn't.

I was on fire. Fire was creeping all over my body like an army of red ants, biting into my skin, licking over the bitemarks with its hot tongues and stinging me again and again. I was sick with a wild terror of dying, yet somehow completely indifferent to whether I would really live or die. I was terrified of the four walls that were waiting me back in the prison, but I couldn't care less if I was indeed one day going back there. Come to think of it, the entire world had become my prison cell.

And while I felt to broken, I forbade myself to dwell on it. The only way to ignore that sickness was to continue being insane.

The tapestry of silence thrown around us was suddenly slit through with the sound of music. I tilted my head and pricked up my ears.

No. It must have been a fancy.

I moved on like a marionette, the world around me pulsing with pencils of light shooting through the leafage. I hated it when it changed from darkness to light and back so abruptly. My eyes hurt. I had slept so long, yet I didn't feel rested.

The trill repeated, whistling like it was a wind instrument. I froze, unable to believe my ears.

"Okay, I'm officially off the rocker," I announced. That somehow sounded pretentious and vulgar at the same time. "I can hear music."

Itachi frowned.

"So can I."

His words surprised me, but I felt undeniably relieved. Three cheers for my sanity: it still had a future!

We crept cautiously through the bushes, parted them and saw a sunless clearing filled with people. To my almost-disappointment, they were neither spirits, nor fairytale troubadours, but regular shinobi in full uniform down to the forehead protectors which I recognized with mingled contempt and surprise as Oto's.

Whatever these lost children of Orochimaru were doing here was hardly our concern. Nevertheless, neither of us hastened to leave. I couldn't tell what Itachi was thinking, but, for my part, I was intrigued by their musical activities. Strictly speaking, that was none of my business either, but a few minutes before I had been firmly convinced there were no real musicians here. I thought I had a right to know what my would-be hallucinations were up to.

I figured it out soon enough. They were training. They formed two groups. Number one was armed with rough-looking bamboo flutes (oh, I knew how 'harmless' they could be!); number two carried kunai and other projectiles. By the referee's command, group number one began playing; their opponents rushed into attack.

The melody was beautiful even though someone would go off key time after time and play out of tune. Music streamed all over the clearing, smooth and light like a river of silk. They started with the basics, the melody that affected the senses, made blood boil and sped up the heart-rate, and did other 'nice' physical stuff that I always chose to avoid. Only Orochimaru could turn something as beautiful as music into a deadly weapon. Props for him.

The highest level would be a musical genjutsu, but I was sure the kids wouldn't go this far. Group number two resisted pretty well. A few of them winced now and then and panted heavier than expected; but all in all, they were okay.

Unlike Itachi.

My attention snapped back to him when I heard him utter a stifled groan. He was kneeling on the ground, fingers clutching at the grass so hard that his knuckles were white; bleeding from eyes and ears. I cursed, helped him up on his feet, slung his arm around my shoulders and dragged him as far from the clearing as I could, letting the music die down behind us.

Blood smeared Itachi's cheeks and neck. It looked like it was gleaming faintly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded.

I didn't know who I was more angry with: him for being such a ruin, or myself for helping him.

"Do you reckon the Sound has anything to do with this?" Itachi asked, wiping the blood off his face.

The creepy Inner Sasuke brought forth by drugs rejoiced. 'He wants to hear my opinion!' But seeing as I was dead-set on denying his existence, my first official thought was: 'This?' Then it dawned upon me: of course, this! The whole prison break affair and our charming adventures of a castaway.

I shrugged, sincerely confused. "They seem stranded. Do they even know the Sound is like… gone?"

Itachi shook his head thoughtfully. We were probably thinking the same thing at the moment: What. The. Hell?

"Orochimaru taught me those things," I felt like saying. "Taught how to shield myself from the sounds, too. But I wasn't doing anything now."

"Drugs," Itachi interrupted without even looking at me. Oh, that sure explained a lot! "Let's go."

I had just added a few more provisions to my Things More Pleasant Than Itachi list, and frankly speaking, it was becoming ridiculous. It included various unpleasant diseases, gruesome ways to die, bad jokes, chick flicks, snots (I was getting a bit childish), slavery and a broken TV-set. That last thing had really got me in a fix when I was four. In other words, I had broken the misfortunate telly and had been dreading mother's wrath – but it hadn't come. It was the last time I hadn't had to answer for my actions. After that I had always tried to be the man.

Someone had fixed the telly.

All these thoughts racing in my mind, I drifted off into a trancelike apathy and came out of it, having nearly bumped into a tree. I ended up annoyed, disappointed and triumphant all at once.

Because it was that tree. Our lovely sakura with two trunks, raining its rosy blossoms down on our heads in some kind of darkish mockery that only soulless objects are capable of acting out. On the other hand, many religions attribute some kind of animation to plants and rocks and earth and nature in general, so who knows? Perhaps the tree was indeed mocking us.

"Huh!" I said. I intended it to sound taunting; it came out more like a remark of surprise instead.

Itachi peered at the tree intently. If I had been having a daily bout of my visions' attack, I could have sworn the tree peered back.

Itachi turned abruptly and took another road. I could only glower at the back of his head like everything was the said head's fault (and maybe it was!) as I followed him.

Behind us, the sakura's leaves rustled quietly. There was no wind. Why did I find it symbolic?


There is a festival in the Compound. Someone's birthday. Or maybe a wedding. I don't really care. I love it when they hold festivities here. The ones that storm all over the village are fun too, but what I get is mostly supporting noises because the children of the Compound are rarely allowed to join the celebration. Children, as grown-ups put it, have no business in the village before they start at the Academy – thus they remain isolated.

Our parties are different. They are close-knit (as far as a few full streets can make it), and we get candy. I've never been particularly fond of sweet stuff, but I know someone who is. And I collect a heap of candy and carry it with me, trying to find brother amidst the party-goers.

I end up in our courtyard where slow, sentimental music is playing. The sound is distorted, alternating with the cracking noises the old record player is making. I look around curiously and spy a dancing couple. It seems peculiar that they are my parents.

Mother looks beautiful in her dark-red kimono. I've never seen her wear red even though I know she likes the colour. She laughs as father leans into her and whispers something in her ear. He holds her gently like she is fragile and precious to him; like I've never seen him hold anything or anyone. Her arms are wound around his neck.

Away from the festival fuss I watch my parents dance to a half-forgotten tune, surrounded by clouds of white chrysanthemum. Feels like a dream.

A hand lies on my shoulder. I shiver and drop my baggage.

"Are you eavesdropping?"

I look up at my brother who has just materialized out of nowhere (I've got to hand it to him: he's a master of neat tricks) and force a feeble smile.

"No. Just peeking."

Well, that's true: I can't hear a word they're saying!

Itachi grasps me by the collar and starts dragging me away, saying Mom and Dad deserve some privacy. I break free, sticking my tongue out at him, and jump a few metres back.

"Sasuke, I am not playing with you," brother chides. He looks stern, but I can see him cracking up. Inspired, I pick up the candy and cup it in my hands and hold it out to him. I'm well aware of how adorable I may be looking and I gladly take advantage of it.

Itachi shakes his head and mouths, "Five minutes, no more."

Victorious, I leap back to my observation post. Itachi perches behind me like a watchful sentinel. His word is law: if he says five minutes, it will definitely be five minutes sharp.

I glance back at him briefly. He is busy unwrapping a candy. The foil doesn't rustle. Itachi is the only person I know who can unwrap paper noiselessly.

"Why does Dad never do this when we're around?" I whisper.

He never hugs anyone: neither us, nor mother. Not if there is anyone to see him doing it, at least.

"Sasuke," brother says gravely. "Father might seem cold and detached, but it doesn't mean anything. Some people have difficulty showing affection. Don't hold it against him."

The sweep taps gently over the stones of the garden. My cheeks flush. He makes it sound like I've been saying something bad about father. I would never… It's just that when I see other parents hug their kids, I can't help feeling just a tiny bit jealous.

'Please don't hold it against me either.'

"Time's up!" Itachi whispers sinisterly in my ear.

Before I can protest, he grasps me around the waste, hurls me across his shoulder and drags me away. I wave my hands comically, trying to get him to put me down. He is inexorable. I soon forget that I'm supposed to be offended, and I begin to laugh.



"What. The. Fuck!" I hissed listlessly as a heap of sweet-smelling, moist flower petals was flung straight into my face.

This had to be a joke! Yet it wasn't. We were standing before the very same tree that we had left less than an hour ago. I stared at it fixedly. The mere sight of it made my teeth ache.

STUPID SAKURA-TREE!!!

"Could it be that we keep bumping into it because you're blind and can't choose the damn right road?" I spat irritably.

Itachi shrugged. He looked indifferent, but he was just as puzzled as I was. Instead of waiting for him to make another ridiculous choice that would, doubtless, lead us back here, I flung myself on the ground beneath the spreading branches right in front of the spot where the two trunks fused and folded my arms across my chest, looking deadly serious. Itachi cocked an eyebrow at that.

"I'm not going anywhere until we have a plan," I felt munificent enough to explain. "Or at least a semblance of a strategy."

"That's gonna be a bit tough," a voice said, and it took me a while to realize it wasn't Itachi's voice. "I'd say bordering on the impossible."

I tilted my head up, and my eyes entrained into Naruto's electric, smiling eyes. Great! Just what I needed to make this day any better: the biggest moron on the planet giving me advice on plan-making.

"I love the colour," Naruto commented, catching a few falling petals. "Kind of reminds me of Sakura-chan."

Not that I had anything against her, but right now I could hardly have any warm feeling towards anything or anyone named 'sakura'.

"Don't tell me you're still chasing after her with your tongue hanging out," I grumbled.

Naruto burst out laughing. "Why? Jealous?"

I glowered at him, hoping my grimace made my intentions clear enough. If not, I was perfectly ready to voice them: GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD! I wondered if he could read my mind. Technically, being part of it, he probably should be able to. On the other hand, I doubted I wanted him to.

I closed my eyes, indicating the conversation was over. I could stare him down or something, but it would be downright weird to try to establish my domination over an apparition. I had already done way too many 'downright weird' things during this quest.

Soon it would be over. Everything would be over. Including Naruto. I hadn't thought about my future yet, even though I had told Itachi I wanted to correct the mistakes of my past and all that jazz. I could never go back to Konoha. No, I seriously didn't think I could.

Presentiments of a dark future swept over me. As soon as we were out of this forest, I would finally take my revenge. I would complete the mission of the past nine years. And – then what? Could there be anything for me after the End?

"Yeah, sure, the End!" Naruto snickered. I had almost managed to forget he was here. Those were the most pleasant two minutes I had had for the past few days. "To live for the End. To live to die. Inspiring goal indeed. Dumbass!"

"Moron," I parried. "So what?"

"See?" he perked up. "We're perfect for each other! We make quite a pair." There was a momentary pause, and I desperately hoped he would shut up. Naturally, my hopes were in vain. "You should know, though," he said in a far more resolute voice, "that nothing will be over. Especially Naruto!"

I would ignore him, I thought. He might just shut up. (Hell, it was him, the big orange moron! Why would he shut up just because I wanted him to?) Perhaps if this voice that was part of my own subconsciousness said that nothing would be over, then… Naruto… No! I resisted the urge to flick myself on the forehead. I needed to get out of the wilds.

…No pun intended.

"Tell me something," Naruto said.

"I'm not going to have a conversation with myself," I said sternly. Either my words, or the way I phrased the thought caused him to laugh again.

"Who says it's you talking to yourself?"

"There's no one else here. Much less, you, idiot!"

"That's rich!" Naruto grinned. "What about him then?"

My attention snapped back to Itachi. He made no sign of having paid any heed to my one-sided dialogue, but he probably did think I was crazy. Now, the question was: should I or should I not give a damn about what he thought?

Naruto was already gone when I turned to him, which was fine with me because I was just about to repeat my proposition to 'get out of my head'. I balled my fists and forced myself to get up.

"I get to choose the road this time," I said categorically and went on without waiting for him to follow.

Things just had to be getting more complicated all the time, didn't they?


The road went downhill slantwise and ran along the river-bed. The slow and regular splashing of water evoked drowsiness. I tried to continue working on my list to keep myself from tumbling into the river (this time I was pretty sure it was real), but it turned out the provisions made me feel even sleepier.

I could hear music again. The soundtrack to some children's TV-programme which I vaguely remembered from childhood.

The grass around me was maroon. The sky and the river swapped their placed, so that when I looked up I would see ripples in the clouds, and if I looked downward, there was the sun beneath my feet.

I squatted on the riverbank and put my hand into the grass, palm up. Accompanied by the indistinct hissing, a small bright-green snake crept up to me warily. I brought it up to my face to take a better look at it. It dipped its fangs into the softness of my palm, and I dropped it with a short gasp.

Music grew louder.

I rose, barely able to tear my eyes off of my hand. There were still the river and the valley behind me, but they seemed like a landscape from a surrealistic painting. I was standing in a dark room, a TV-set in front of me. The screen was black, but I could still hear children's songs and laughter.

A boy was sitting close to the TV-set. If it had been on and if there had been a mother in the room, she would have scolded him for sitting so close. It made me smile. In my world there were far more dangerous ways to ruin your eyesight than watching TV.

"The telly was broken," the boy said, and I shuddered. I knew that voice!

He turned to face me, smiling reassuringly. I hadn't seen him for twelve years, not since I had last looked in the mirror that day.

"It's okay now," he said. "Brother fixed it."

The black screen burst into colour. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing in and out nervously.

"…fixed the telly," I murmured. Of course. Who else could it have been?

The world was fine again when I opened my eyes. Itachi touched my forehead carefully and said:

"You're running a temperature again."

He motioned for me to sit down, and I did. I felt dizzy, but fever wasn't the cause of it. It was finding out the things that had seemed important when I was four… or finding out I had always known the truth.


Itachi turned his back on me and walked slowly towards the river. I watched him lazily, trying to decide whether I was asleep or not. I was if I intended to avoid another heart-to-heart with Naruto (obnoxious as this insane apparition was, he never intruded into my dreams); I wasn't if… if I was mad, obviously.

Brother dipped his hands into the water and rinsed them briskly. His gaze slid thoughtfully over the gleaming surface, and slowly, he began to undress. As he entered the water, I perked up. Perhaps he'll drown.

He swam a few metres away from the bank and dove. I prowled towards the swaying wisps of reed and sat there, misty-eyed, observing the ripples. Itachi's head showed up above the surface, and vanished again. I recalled Suigetsu swimming. Every time Team Hebi passed by a river, he would take a dive. He was never actually seen bathing. To my knowledge, he dissolved in the water, much like he had done in Orochimaru's tank where I had first found him. It must have given him the taste of liberty so strong that I could never even imagine it.

Itachi headed back. I tensed involuntarily, but it was no use pretending I wasn't looking at him. He stopped at the shoal, swept his hands over his face, brushing aside his wet bangs. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen him like this.

A faded old scar crossed his back. I came up to him, unable to look away.

"How did you get that?"

"A greeting from a friendly shinobi during one of my first assignments as the Akatsuki."

I smirked. The idea of someone getting so close to actually hurting him – maybe even killing him – seemed peculiar. I brushed my fingers over the scar tentatively, taking in the texture of it, slightly rougher than the skin around it.

"He didn't live long enough to apologize," Itachi said, picking his shirt up.

I jerked my hand away and stepped back, suddenly flushed.

"How's water?"

Itachi turned to face me. Droplets, small and sparkling like glass beads, fell from his hair and trickled down his chest and disappeared in the heavily soaked fabric of his trousers.

"Warm."

Enough! I turned my back on him abruptly and hurried back to the campsite. Seeing him like this was a torture. He seemed alive, peaceful, different from the carefully constructed villainous image I had planted in my mind.

I hated him for doing this to me. Especially since he wasn't doing anything.

I paced around the campsite, feeling that if there was a cliff nearby, I would gladly jump off it. Alas, there were no cliffs. Only a river where I couldn't possibly drown because: a) Itachi was still there, and b) it was a ghastly death. I would rather pretend I was a bird than a fish.

I took a short walk in the nearby grove, spotted an apple-tree and plucked the fruits excitedly. They were small and tasted somewhat between bitter and sour. I munched down at least four of them before Itachi returned and was pretty sure it would give me stomach ache. They were too astringent.

"Are you all right?" Itachi asked me.

I glanced up at him, frowning. He took an apple and was now looking at it like it was an alien artifact.

"Shouldn't I be?"

"You seem strange."

I shrugged gloomily and reached for another apple. I was clearly suicidal today. Oh, it had been a tormentingly long day!

Itachi wrung his hair out, moved closer to the campfire and took a bite of his apple. It was getting dark. I watched him as he sat there, bathed in crimson glares of flame, and watched the sky change its colours: from scarlet and gold to starry dark-blue. He looked almost dreamy (if the likes of him could dream), his hair scattered over his shoulders and his strange, empty murrey eyes half-closed.

"I didn't like sunsets when I was little."

I cocked my head curiously. "Why?"

"They ended too soon. Then it was dark and I was afraid of it."

I couldn't believe it no matter how hard I tried. If I imagined brother being afraid of anything, it would destroy everything. It would destroy my faith in him.

What was I thinking!? I slammed my fist into the ground, accidentally pushing a log that was peeking out of the fire. Strong scent of cinders clogged my nostrils.

It would destroy nothing because there hadn't been any faith in a long time.

"It was before you were born," Itachi elaborated. "Kids are always scared of something."

"I didn't know you as a kid." I'd rather not think about it.

Itachi shrugged.

"Do you like them now?" I asked. "Sunsets."

"Yes."

"Because you aren't afraid anymore?"

"No." I thought I heard a strange inflection in his voice. Melancholy. Nostalgia. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "But they are always different. I have never seen two similar sunsets. As for darkness…" He chuckled quietly. "I have never seen a bogeyman either."

"I have," I murmured and hastened to correct myself: "The sunsets. I have seen two similar ones." Strictly speaking, I have seen a bogeyman too: he was sitting right in front of me. "Back in Konoha, on cloudless days… I would watch them from the bridge. Their mood was the same."

"So it would seem…"

"No, it really was. Because I was in the same mood every day. When everything is the same inside, it is the same on the outside, too."

After a short pause, Itachi asked:

"Do you always feel the same?"

I lowered my head, perplexed. Who the hell forced me to talk?

"Not really. Not now, at least."

"You used to smile more," Itachi noted. Surprisingly, I didn't get angry at this remark. I thought I should, but I simply couldn't.

So I smiled. I grinned at him like I had grinned back then: innocently, artlessly, almost happily. With tears prickling in my eyes. It should have made my face muscles hurt: I hadn't done it in such a long time!

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Itachi's lips. I thought that for a moment I had really managed to forget who he was.


"So, what did we stop at?" Naruto rumbled in my ear.

I was already half-asleep when he showed up. His voice startled me. I told him to get lost as quietly as I could, considering I wanted to keep the menace in my tone clear. Itachi was asleep. I peered at him, trying to figure out if he was breathing at all.

"How do I know I'm not here?" Naruto persisted. "What if I invented an awesome jutsu that allows me to invade minds and talk to people's thoughts?"

"Invented? Stole from the Yamanaka clan, you mean."

"You might be asleep. Or I might be a part of you that activates when you're too fixated on your own sorrows."

"I am not asleep," I deadpanned. "And you're anything but a part of me."

I rolled to my side, hoping he would understand that I needed more sleep than I could get with him chattering in my ear. Unfortunately, he was right: I wasn't dreaming. Hallucinating – yes, but not dreaming.

"Who cares anyway!" Naruto exclaimed, leaning closer to me. I supposed saying 'I do,' would not make him change his mind. "I know I don't. Let's talk, Sasuke! Tell me something."

"Aren't you afraid to get stuck in my head for good?" I teased him. "It's not the most cheerful place to inhabit, you know."

"Nah, I feel great!" he waved dismissively. "Come on, let's talk! You know me, I can be very annoying. Instead of bickering, we could just have a normal conversation."

I chuckled grimly. He didn't have to talk to me to be annoying. It was enough for him to breathe.

"How do I know you'll still be alive tomorrow?" Naruto said. "And we'll never ever be able to talk. I won't be there to save you. The way to you is cut off. It always has been."

Naruto in his usual vein. I buried my face in my hands. My palms were chilly and unexpectedly dry.

"Sometimes I get this feeling," Naruto went on, "that you're closer than we all think. Maybe I could just reach out… But it's not true, is it? Even now, you're doing your best to drive me away."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It would have been ridiculous, my face still hidden in my hands and all, - but damn, if he was aiming to make me cry, he almost succeeded!

(That was sarcasm, by the way. At least, I was pretty sure it was.)

I studied his face through my spread fingers. His eyes grew wider, and the next thing I knew, there was no trace of bitterness in him anymore. On the contrary, he looked just as lively and mischievous as I remembered him.

"What do you say to a little adventure?" he asked.

I couldn't be less enthusiastic about it.

"C'mon!" he whined. "You can't just let yourself get weaker and weaker! You'll wither like that. A bit of thrill might even chase away your fever!"

"What do you suggest?" I asked sourly. At that, Naruto simply grinned.

That was about how I ended up crouching along the thorny rows of thick bushes toward the silent camp of the Otogakure ninja. I couldn't believe I managed to locate them in this deadly maze of a forest, seeing how much time Itachi and I always wasted on trying to find a road. It was a fine exercise in stealth, and so far I was doing absolutely great. So great that Naruto decided to make faces at me, but I wouldn't stoop so low as to actually laugh at that.

Well, I might have snickered once or twice, but no more than that.

The Sound nins were lying in the sleeping bags all over the clearing. In the dark, they looked like bundles of old rags. Not even a single one of them on watch. There were fifteen men. I imagined them all waking up at once to see me intruding. It would be fine with me; I used to take out more when I had trained under Orochimaru.

Their gentle silence soothed me. It was the kind of silence that muffles up a sleeper who is absolutely sure of his own safety. One would think they lay in their own beds behind locked doors.

I could do whatever I pleased to them. I was the danger coming from the wild which they knew nothing about. For all I cared, I could kill them all but one, wake the survivor up and force him to show me the way out of the forest.

"Hn," I said thoughtfully.


"You stole a flute?" Itachi asked in a voice slightly higher than usual.

I blinked and stared at the bamboo flute clutched in my hand, as if seeing it for the first time.

"Well… yeah."

"You stole a flute," brother repeated. This time it wasn't so much of a question.

'Stop looking at me like I'm kleptomaniac!'

"Are you mad at me because I stole it or because I didn't steal anything more useful?" It slipped out before I could censor myself. Damn, I sounded like a naughty kid ashamed of himself. "Because if that's the case," I hastened to add, "I did take a blanket and some food."

I motioned at the bundle at my feet. Itachi's gaze passed over it deliberately and returned to me.

"I'm not mad you," he said quietly. I could swear he was puzzled.

That was… awkward.

(Hallucination or not, I would kill Naruto next time I saw him.)

We wound the camping up and moved further along the road that was supposed to get us closer to the way out. Twiddling the flute in my hand absent-mindedly, I mused on expanding my list of Things More Pleasant Than Itachi, and right now there was a huge dilemma before me: How did Naruto fit in? Was he 'more pleasant'? Or was he the absolute evil that even Itachi couldn't compete with? It seemed crazy to compare the guy who killed my entire family with the guy who… I didn't even know why Naruto bothered me so much. Why was I hallucinating him and no one else? Why wasn't I hallucinating my parents? Or Kakashi and Sakura? Did it mean something or was I just too far gone?

In the end I decided that Naruto held the same position as drugs on my list, so that made him–.

"Why would you steal an instrument you don't play?" Itachi interjected.

Having lost track of my thoughts, I was going to give him a piece of my mind about it, but the meaning of his words stopped me.

"Who says I don't play?" I pouted. He glanced at me curiously. "You didn't think these nine years were all about you, did you?"

He shrugged, and for some reason that simple motion annoyed me. Oh, come on! I wasn't that obsessed! At least not until I came to Orochimaru.

"Then play," Itachi said.

"What, now?"

"Why not?"

In front of him? I wrinkled my forehead. Of all the weird things that happened here this one freaked me out the most. But I wasn't going to back down. Right now, I was really happy the Naruto ghostie wasn't here to witness my further decent into madness.

I held the instrument to my lips. The sound came out a bit strange. A thought flashed in my mind: If I played the right melody, I could kill Itachi effortlessly right now. I remembered well how the Sound nins' training had affected him.

I collected my thoughts and began playing. The melody was rough, unpolished; I couldn't make up my mind about what I wanted to perform. Finally I chose an old festival tune they used to play in Konoha. It was neither sad nor particularly joyous, and I hadn't played since I left Konoha. My fingers were trembling slightly.

I wondered if he remembered it; and if he did, what memories it evoked. The endless chain of Konoha sunsets flashed before my mind's eye. Cloudless days. The icing of crimson and gold on the roof of the Nakano Temple. Sweat from the training session cooling off on my skin.

Itachi kept silent until I was done. He spared me an indefinite look and walked on without a word. I reckoned the music did get in his blood.