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; gen] Please R&R!
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's Almost Out of the Sky. Lyrics from Loss and Gain by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Quotes from Naruto Chapters 353 and 364.
A/N: I can't believe it, but we're almost "out of the forest", darlings! Thank you so much for your amazing reviews! 3 I never expected to attract much attention with this story, but I appreciate every single review of yours. I've been working on this thing for over a year already. This calls for a bottle of wine. XD
Chapter 7
Miracle, Hold My Hand
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
"Do I get to wear one of those too?"
"Yes."
"What's with the flowers?"
"These are clouds!"
"All right, what's with the clouds?"
"It's a symbol. Red clouds, black background."
"Red for blood?"
"Presumably."
"How about black?.."
"Shut up, young insolent fool!" Sasori growls. "Haven't I already told you that your questions will be answered later? And you!" The last bit uttered in an even more sinister voice is apparently addressed to Kisame. "Do not encourage him."
Kisame coughs quietly; the sound might as well be a poor attempt to disguise laughter. The silence doesn't last long. Deidara is far too intrigued by this new chapter of his life to let it go.
"What's with the nail polish?"
"Why me!?" Sasori groans. Kisame coughs again, knowing that inside his puppet, Sasori probably rolls his eyes in the most tragic manner.
Deidara grows quiet after Itachi turns to look at him and says in a quiet, clear voice:
"Ever heard the saying 'Curiosity killed a cat'?"
By rights, Kisame should have a bad case of pneumonia to cough like that. Deidara swallows perplexedly and looks away from Itachi's terrifying eyes, a mask of indifference upon his boyish face. Sasori chuckles.
As the journey progresses, it gets more and more tiresome. Every morning as they set out the interrogation begins anew and lasts till sunset.
"Get used to that," Kisame whispers to Sasori through gritted teeth – in order to contain another fit of coughing, no less.
"What do you have to say?" Sasori asks Itachi, doing a heroic effort to ignore Kisame's gibes.
Itachi hasn't given the new member much thought. Deidara obviously resents him for the humiliation during their short and anti-climatic battle; Itachi, for his part, doesn't care about Deidara at all. He is powerful (otherwise the Akatsuki wouldn't be interested in him), but he is also temperamental and feisty. Sasori is right: that could be his undoing.
"If I may be allowed to pass my judgement," Itachi says politely, "I should say he is a fitting partner for you, Sasori-san."
There is no indication the person inside the puppet has heard him until a grumpy 'hurrumph!' follows.
"Why is that?"
"He is an artist."
"Oh, right!" Kisame pipes in. "You did complain Orochimaru lacked understanding–."
"You've seen what he calls art!" Sasori barks. "That crazy kamikaze brat has no idea what true art is!"
"What good would it be if he simply echoed your views?" Itachi parries. "Truth is born of arguments."
Foolish brat. He had gone to the prison building after all. It could have ended very badly. Although Itachi regarded things in a rather sensible light and he wouldn't claim that Sasuke's safe escape from the prison had been solely due to Itachi's help. The boy was an excellent fighter after all. And an excellent magnet for trouble.
Stupid child.
Itachi clenched his fingers around the hilt of the sword. Apparently Sasuke had no survival instinct whatsoever. First toying with the Sound nins, then his feat in the prison building…
"Nii-san."
Itachi raised his head, astounded. That address… That word raised from the ashes of the past and uttered in Sasuke's voice made his eyes grow a fraction wider.
"Can you… see anything at all?"
Itachi could tell it had been bothering him for a while now. Explaining the situation would be like building yet another bridge across the abyss that separated them. Itachi knew he was making a mistake. He looked through Sasuke, trying to focus on the smudges of light and shadow that composed the shape of his little brother. Could that be called seeing? It was not yet complete darkness.
"I remember enough to do without eyesight."
Sasuke's voice was soft, hesitant. "But there is something."
"There is something," Itachi repeated.
"Memory alone is not enough," Sasuke mused. "There are plenty of places you've never been to."
"I will not let you pity me."
Sasuke snorted indignantly. "I do not!" He took a deep breath and said with forced calmness: "There are things I need to know before it ends. During our fight… you weren't exactly like yourself. I would have got you if not for Susano'o. And that blood… Don't think I haven't noticed."
"I don't think you've ever seen me in a real fight, Sasuke," Itachi said harshly. The boy was onto it again; and it called for the immediate change for subject. "You're not in a position to compare."
"I know what I saw! This wasn't the Itachi I wanted to be up against. And your final gesture… What was it?"
"A moment of weakness."
Sasuke growled in annoyance. "I deserve the bloody truth, Itachi. Stop playing with me, I'm not a child."
It was time to run again. If only Susano'o or any other absolute defense could hide him from Sasuke's accusations…
Itachi quickened his pace.
"What are you so afraid of telling me?" Sasuke flared up. "What did you do? What can be worse than killing your own family!?"
Killing your own family on somebody else's orders, Itachi thought, but he would never be able to say it out loud. He prayed Sasuke would stop asking questions, stop ruining their unstable peace.
"Tell me the truth!" Sasuke yelled after him. "Tell me the truth!"
Itachi lost his temper. Anger, despair and everything he had kept bottled deep within rose instantly and erupted in a cruel outburst.
"You're not ready for the truth yet."
Silence fell. Itachi spun around to face Sasuke. The youth stood stock-still, thunderstruck, eyes wide open. Itachi could hear his own heart thumping painfully.
"What?" Sasuke whispered, his lips barely moving. The world was light as a feather, a single exhalation that hurt like a knife between the ribs.
"There is only one truth you and I have," Itachi said listlessly. "I killed our parents. I'm the villain. And you get to play hero."
As he walked on, his eyes were dry. He wondered if he could cry at all – or had that ability forsaken him as well?
Mother's hands are warm. The pads of her fingers smeared with a healing ointment rub his grazed knee. It's not even a wound by his standards. He is a shinobi now, but the word will never mean as much to her as it does to him. As it should mean to him.
She smiles, eyes gleaming slyly.
"Indulge me," she whispers. "You're growing up too fast."
He relaxes his muscles and straightens his leg, closing his eyes and thinking back on the world where he could allow himself to be a child.
Something warm and moist, nearly a tear, brushed Itachi's cheek. Snapping out of his meditation, he glanced up and stopped, rooted to the spot. A rainfall of sakura petals was swirling around him.
Next to him, Sasuke came to an abrupt halt. His lips moved, curse words springing from them in smothered, angry whisper. He had cut the tree down; yet here it was, standing as proud and tall before them as ever.
Sasuke fell silent, breath caught in his throat. He was looking up, as if seeing something in the thick tree top.
"If I ever were to go back," he murmured suddenly, "what is there for me?"
Itachi waited, uncertain if the question was addressed to him. Sasuke might be talking to his ghosts again.
"That place is dear to you," he said eventually. "It's home, whether you admit that or not."
Sasuke snorted bitterly. "It's not about what I hold dear. I am a traitor. A law-breaker. A missing-nin just like you."
"Is that guilt I hear in your voice?"
Sasuke balled his fists, irritated. "It's nothing of the sort! I'm stating a fact. I would be punished. But it's not that I'm afraid of. I just–. I don't see where I fit in."
"With the people that love you." The word, love, tasted strange. Forgotten. "People that you love."
Sasuke never looked away from the tree. Perhaps his ghost was there, listening to him as well.
"I don't think anyone in our family was made for love."
The downpour of petals became thicker. Sasuke shut his eyes. Itachi caught himself expecting questions or more discourse, but nothing came. He lowered himself on the grass under the tree and breathed out wearily.
"We need to find a way to release ourselves from this genjutsu."
"I thought it was the tree," Sasuke said after a pause. "I thought if I cut it down–. I should have known it wouldn't go down so easily." He looked around to face Itachi, his face suddenly changed. "But it is the tree, isn't it? Maybe it's some kind of genjutsu within genjutsu… is that possible?"
Itachi shrugged. Anything was possible if you tried hard enough.
"But then," Sasuke went on, "would it take someone like Madara to set things in motion? Does it require the power of the Mangekyou?"
"Not necessarily. You just have to be a skilled enough genjutsu master."
Sasuke sat down next to him, hands tugging at the wisps of grass around him. He was tense, like a hunter peering into the dark, striving to locate the prey that kept evading him. Itachi knew he was trying to piece together everything that had happened to them in the forest. The chase, the hunter-nins, the prison, the Sound nins, the tree, the hallucinations… The list was endless.
He was glad, though. This task had taken Sasuke's mind off of the past and stopped his flood of questions concerning the massacre.
He looked better now, Itachi's little brother. More composed, more whole, colder, just like he used to be. Soon he would fully turn his attention back to his goal: to avenge his family's murder. Soon everything would be over. A small smile crossed Itachi's lips in spite of him. It wasn't the worst of deaths after all: to die by a loved one's hand.
Yet something inside him rebelled against it. These past days had been almost normal despite their constant arguments and the pain gnawing at both of them.
Foolish! How foolish! He gave himself a mental slap. You, idiot. What do you get your hopes high for? Do you think he would forgive you even if he knew the truth? Would you ever forgive yourself?
He couldn't get Sasuke's words out of his head.
I don't think anyone in our family was made for love.
Probably true.
"Prepare to die!" Shisui spits vehemently. His nostrils flare, his curly hair standing on end, and he looks like he's about to make his threat come true. He takes a deep breath and says in a low, uncharacteristic voice: "Foolish outlander! You have been daft enough to intrude the lands of the great warlord Tomoyatsu the Iron Fist–!"
"Who?" Itachi interrupts incredulously.
"Oh, come on! Samurai of the Iron Country. The Golden Edition! The new play station release? Don't tell me you've never–."
"Have you met my father? Play station is a waste of shinobi's time."
Shisui rolls his eyes. He has never made a secret out of what he thinks of Fugaku-san's parenting skills, specifically from a child's point of view.
"Okay, can I please continue?"
"By all means."
"Thank you." Shisui bows theatrically and assumes his previous menacing stance. "As I was saying," his voice escalates once more, "you have invaded my lands and dared steal the priceless cargo from my ships: my supplies of the rarest tea leaves from the Tea Country and… a collection of uncensored erotic manga–!"
Itachi flashes him another 'unimpressed' look. Shisui throws up his hands.
"What? You know grown-ups, it's all they ever think about! Now tremble in fear, outlander! Here comes the day you'd wish you'd never been born! Beg for mercy as my Sphere of Righteous Wrath spirals in your direction!"
Itachi sighs. The field is empty and quiet, occasional gusts of wind soaring through the tree tops. Leave it to Shisui to turn a regular football game into a dramatized fantasy show.
The older boy kicks the ball in full force. There are no firm rules in this game; it always walks the fine line between a game and a sparring session. All sort of natural weapons can be used, be it chakra or some nifty ninjutsu.
The ball leaps between them so fast that sometimes it can barely be seen with a naked eye. Red fire flashes in Itachi's eyes.
"That's cheating!" Shisui fires off breathlessly when the game is lost. "When did you get the Sharingan?"
Itachi holds an enigmatic pause, brushing his bangs away from his forehead.
"My team's being sent on some longish away mission," Shisui informs him as they walk leisurely away from the field. "I guess I won't be playing any time soon."
"You sound upset."
Shisui shakes his head in doubt. "I'm not sure how I feel. Don't get me wrong, my team's great. They're all incredible as ninja and we have really great teamwork, but–." There's always a 'but'. "As people… It's like they have no personality! They're just so boring! And not your cool, silent, prodigy type of boring. Just talking to them seems like chatting to a stone wall."
They halt in front of Shisui's porch. Itachi glances past his sempai at the half-opened fusuma doors, towards the dark interior of the house, and thinks that things are about to change. They are still children, but they are not allowed to be children anymore.
"Take care, little brother," Shisui smiles and squeezes his shoulder lightly. He makes it to the veranda, flushed, excited, chakra racing through the channels in his body. "Hey," he calls after Itachi from the doorstep. "When I come back, there'll be a rematch. And you'll get to see my new victory dance!"
"Bonds," Sasuke said all of a sudden.
Itachi cocked his head. His brother tensed and glanced up at the rosy tree top again. His lips moved, forming barely audible words. He seemed uncertain of the idea that had just come to him, yet he clung to it like it was his last straw.
"If we can't destroy the tree, we should find another way. It has something to do with bonds."
Sasuke sprang up on his feet and examined the twin trunks curiously. Itachi kept silent, his strained eyes fixed on his brother's face.
"Don't look at me like that," Sasuke said without turning his head. "I already hate myself enough for sounding like Naruto."
"A genjutsu within a genjutsu," Itachi echoed Sasuke's earlier deduction.
Why not? Suppose there was a genjutsu specialist skilled enough to have constructed such a trap. Someone powerful who had miraculously avoided getting on the Akatsuki radar and thus escaped Itachi's attention. Some mad scientist collecting bloodline limits, perhaps.
These levels of genjutsu were uncommon but not unheard of. They resembled a jewel-box locked inside another jewel-box, and so on, and infinite number of mysteries within mysteries. In that case, the tree was indeed a key.
"Doesn't it look familiar to you?" Sasuke asked. The tips of his fingers danced over the smooth bark, tracing invisible patterns. "The way it stands, the way it grows… It's one tree, but it's also two trees."
"Twins."
"No. No, they're not identical. They grow together, but they're so different. This one is big and it casts shadow over the smaller one."
"Protecting it?"
"Or keep it away from the sun." Sasuke brought his face closer to the gap between the trunks. "Do you think they've all seen it? The guards, the Sound nins… I've never once heard them talk about it. Could it be that it's here just for us?"
There was a possibility, Itachi reasoned. If the genjutsu was different for everyone, then the sakura tree might be the key designed specifically for the two of them. Was that why he had never seen it during his failed attempts to escape alone? He needed Sasuke more than he knew.
"A barrier I will have to overcome…" Sasuke whispered. Itachi was stunned to recognize those distinctly familiar words as his own, from years before.
"They are brothers," said Sasuke. "They're us."
Itachi watched him stroke the smaller trunk hesitantly. His fingers traveled down towards the moss-covered junction where the trunks fused, the visual foundation of their bond. They had sprouted from the same seed, much like the Uchiha brothers were born of the same mother.
"There are bonds you can't tear apart, bonds you can't deny," Sasuke said, his voice breaking. "You will always be there in front of me."
I wish it were so, little brother.
"Where does that leave us?" Itachi asked.
"Right here. We are brothers. At least until we'll have left the forest."
He grasped one of the smaller tree's branches gently and pulled it closer to the larger tree. Itachi mimicked his action, interlacing the branches together. Then, without a word, they continued aimlessly on their way.
Sasuke kept quiet. He seemed far more relaxed around Itachi now; an observation that made Itachi neither happy nor sad. He wanted to believe Sasuke remained adamant about his revenge; though to convert Sasuke into a kinslayer not unlike himself was more of a punishment than a reward. Sasuke had suffered enough. Itachi wanted to believe his death would make things easier, but he wasn't so sure of this now.
A golden ray of sunshine slid down Itachi's cheek. Its feeble warmth barely reached him. A light blow of wind shifted his bangs.
He stopped.
"Can you feel it?"
"I see it," said Sasuke, trying to keep excitement out of his voice. "The colours look different. There is a gap in the foliage. I can see the sky."
"The air tastes differently."
"It's autumn."
Itachi's heart gave a violent leap. Real air streamed down into his lungs, bringing an uncanny mixture of scents and tastes; so real that for a moment he feared he had finally started hallucinating.
The sound of somebody clapping his hands made Itachi turn around. He spotted the prison building, far less imposing than it had seemed inside the genjutsu (they must have been wandering in its vicinity the entire time). In front of the gate, there stood a man.
"Should I congratulate you?" he spoke with fake cheer, voice laced with venom. "It didn't take you half as long to figure things out as I'd dared hope."
"Who're you?" Sasuke asked bluntly.
"Your generous host, of course! You were the jewel of my menagerie. Two legendary shinobi, the last children of the great clan. It was so much fun watching you try to connect. Ah, the drama! But I suppose that was my mistake. I was betting on your hatred for each other too heavily. But where has your appetite for destruction gone, Sasuke-san? You can't have forgiven your murderous brother just yet!"
Sasuke scowled coldly. "You talk too much."
He attacked on the spur of moment, driving the Kusanagi right through the man. The figure disappeared with an almost inaudible 'poof'.
"Sasuke," Itachi said, his tone heavy with warning.
"I know."
The youth spun around, Chidori flaring around his fist. Bolts of lightning shot through the ground. They were met halfway by some strange black blobs rising from the dirt. The lighting swished through them, but came out weakened.
"Is that it?" the Host's voice taunted.
"Clown," Sasuke hissed through clenched teeth.
He struck again, the blade of his sword slashing furiously through the air. The black inky creature rose to shield its master; the sword got stuck in it. Sasuke pulled at it, but to no avail.
"Duck," Itachi commanded, and released the Grand Fireball. It rolled over the Host and the creature, flames bursting like tidal waves.
Sasuke flashed him the look that spelled, don't waste your chakra, I'm on it. Itachi forced a pale smile.
An inky shadow spilled over the ground, gathering into the shape of the Host. He scowled – and threw his hand forward, and his shadowy fingers constricted around Sasuke's neck. Itachi raised his sword and lunged at him, evading another inky formation that sped forth to block his attack. He felt weak, fighting without the Mangekyou.
Itachi performed Housenka no Jutsu and maneuvered between the jolts of fire flying towards the Host. His blade came down swiftly. The Host's hand came off smoothly and plopped on the ground. Sasuke staggered backwards, breathing constrainedly, splatters of ink running over his chest.
"Honestly, I expected more from the fabled Uchiha survivors," the Host said. The loss of a limb didn't seem to upset him in the slightest. "Perhaps your fame is a bit exaggerated after all. You see, collecting a kekkei genkai menagerie is such a beautiful challenge. Sometimes break-outs happen, and when they do, I take pleasure in testing my subjects' limits. I have tested yours in a closed environment; like I said, you were such fun to watch. But in close combat you seem to be – how should I put it? – rather unimaginative."
The man's circumlocutory manner was beginning to irritate Itachi. He took a deep breath – and activated the Sharingan. Excruciating pain pierced his eyes. Doing his best to ignore it, he lunged at the Host to reclaim Sasuke's lost sword.
"I lament your lack of judgement, Itachi-san," the Host observed. "While your eyes were shut, you could be arguably safe from my genjutsu. Why put yourself at such risk–?"
"You forget," Sasuke smirked, jumping at him. "You're not the only one here who can cast genjutsu."
Itachi wondered briefly what Sasuke had chosen to show him. He could hardly have the same imagination for genjutsu torture as Itachi himself did.
The Host broke the illusion quickly, but while he was out, Itachi had managed to pull the sword free. A column of murky water jetted in the brothers' direction. Water type. Of course.
"I just hate it when they won't die," Sasuke said hoarsely.
Itachi skidded up to him, clutching both swords in his hands firmly. It was time to get creative.
"Do you still have that flute?"
After a moment of silence, Sasuke reached beneath his cloak and took out the flute without questions. Itachi took the battle stance.
"What about you?"
"Never mind me. Just keep playing." He nodded, more to himself than to Sasuke. "Go."
Music swam through the air. Itachi lunged at the Host at full speed, blood boiling in his body. He slashed, and cut, and pierced, trying to ignore the pain in his eyes and his ears and his throat. The Host appeared to be completely overwhelmed. He tried to knock Sasuke off balance, but his Suiton attack crashed into a hundred droplets. The melody rose to higher volume, each sound tearing at the Host's flesh. He doubled over, disoriented.
Itachi felt his pulse quicken. His heart beat so fast that it was all he could feel at the moment. The ground shook beneath his feet.
The music stopped abruptly. Sasuke leapt up to him, snatched the Kusanagi out of his grip and delivered the final, fatal blow, cutting the Host's head off. The headless body collapsed on the ground, black inky liquid seeping out of the wound in place of blood.
Dropping the sword, Sasuke caught Itachi before his body hit the ground too.
"Sharingan!" he breathed, astounded. "I thought you couldn't–."
Itachi coughed. Blood bubbled on his lips.
"Why did you have to do it!?" Sasuke demanded angrily. "You could have kept your eyesight. What scraps you'd had left. I would have managed–!"
The Sharingan faded, leaving only sharp ache behind. The light died down. Itachi sagged heavily.
"How will I fight you now?" Sasuke whispered. It did not come out half as coldly as he had undoubtedly intended.
Itachi walked on through the eternal night that had descended upon him. He wondered, to his own surprise, what Shisui-senpai would have had to say. He had always gone on about changing destiny. Maybe someday… Itachi chuckled. His destiny was solitude and darkness, and it had finally caught up with him.
The darkness, however, was not complete. What he could not see, he could define by sounds and scents and sensations. The fragrance of musty leaves eddied wildly around him. The birds, unheard in the dull silence of the genjutsu forest, raced each other over the creaking tree tops, the flapping of their wings and their screeching so loud, so sharp to his ears.
'Get used to it,' he thought darkly. Light was not coming back.
He thought about Madara. Was that how it felt? His first hours of blindness, overworked eyes still hurting, still cherishing the sensation of power that they had once held.
His musings delayed Itachi from noticing that Sasuke had stopped. It was only when his brother called out to him, "Wait," that Itachi also came to a halt.
"We're almost out of the forest," Itachi said. He knew it by the way the air was changing.
"You're in no good shape to fight," Sasuke said hesitantly. "Let's spend the night here, on the edge of the forest. We'll fight tomorrow at dawn."
The request surprised Itachi. He did nothing to indicate it, though.
"As you wish," he agreed and lowered himself on the ground. Perhaps he could indeed use some rest.
"Deidara is dead," the Leader said. "However… Sasuke died as well."
Itachi lifts his head up to the sky, rain lashing out at him and thunder roaring like a wounded animal.
"It seems that someone else has been killed," the Leader had said days before. "Orochimaru."
Sasuke had killed Orochimaru. Sasuke died with Deidara. Itachi finds it hard to believe.
"From here, it looks like you're crying," Kisame remarks.
How very prudent. If he cried, he would doubtless cry in the rain to hide the tears. But his eyes betray him. Years of pretense have disciplined him well. That moisture in his eyes and on his cheeks is rain, nothing more.
"Sasuke died as well," the Leader's voice returns, bouncing back from the rock walls.
Itachi feels numb. If Sasuke died, he would feel it, right? If Sasuke died, none of this would make any sense.
He is still here. His heart is still beating. Itachi's heart is still beating. If Sasuke died, shouldn't it stop as well?
"No," Itachi says, willing his lips not to form a smile they are trying to form. "He's not dead yet. And besides…"
The clouds shift, revealing a silken piece of greyish sky.
"The storm has passed."
He is not dead.
The wind was getting colder. Itachi wrapped himself tighter into the traveling cloak. Regardless of the chill, it was good to be able to feel the wind again.
Tomorrow at dawn, Sasuke had said. Itachi asked himself whether he would know the dawn had come, whether he would somehow feel it. Red dawn. Akatsuki. It had always symbolized the end.
Sasuke's footsteps approached. The youth stood motionless for a few minutes. Itachi opened his eyes to indicate he wasn't asleep. Then Sasuke lay quietly next to him.
"Do you mind?"
"No," Itachi exhaled.
"It's been a while," Sasuke murmured. "Since my early childhood."
"Don't think I didn't miss that feeling."
"Did you?" There was doubt in Sasuke's voice. "Did you think about me?"
Itachi bit the inside of his lip. He would only be making things harder on the eve of tomorrow's battle.
He tensed a little when he felt Sasuke turn and press harder against him. It was an effective way to keep warm, but…
"Tomorrow things will be different again," Sasuke mused aloud.
Itachi kept silent, torn between the desire to comfort him and to push him away. Instead, he focused on the feeling of Sasuke so close to him, the heavy warmth pressed against his side like many nights in the past that they had waited through for storms to end and Itachi would tell him stories. Sasuke was taller than him now, a sixteen-year-old with a low, steely voice and harsh features, edgy like the lightning he was so apt at manipulating.
"I need to know," Sasuke said in a low, torn voice that seemed almost too gentle to be his. "The truth you think I'm not ready for yet… I am ready! I need to make sure I won't regret anything. That I'm not making a huge mistake."
"You're not."
Sasuke pulled away and must have turned his back on Itachi; his voice sounded farther away.
"I think I've come to learn something here. No matter how horrible a crime is, a criminal sometimes… deserves a second chance."
Itachi smiled sadly. He never did learn to hate. Or maybe… maybe he did, but he had also learnt to overcome it. To forgive. Something that Itachi could never really do.
"I have so many questions," Sasuke murmured.
"Ask away."
"No." The warmth was back. Sasuke pressed his forehead against Itachi's shoulder. "You won't tell me anything. I'm so tired. I don't want to think anymore."
Itachi didn't move. Minutes wore on. Soon, Sasuke's breathing leveled.
"I wish you could stay with me," Itachi whispered.
Sasuke mumbled something unintelligible, having heard the words but not captured the meaning.
When he was fast asleep, Itachi shifted quietly, pulling away from the boy. Tomorrow would turn into another promise he couldn't keep.
He felt about for something sharp and located his sword. He positioned the tip of the blade against the softer patch of soil and scribbled a few words rapidly. Perhaps this time, he would be making a proper decision.
He leaned forth in the dark and planted a barely perceptible kiss upon Sasuke's forehead. Then he stood up and left.