Disclaimer: Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
Title: Gray-colored Happiness
Chapter: 8 of 42
Chapter 8
"That's it? You're going to tell me that that's all that happened?"
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"Are you lying?"
My eyes become slits, harsh and unblinking, and if I could, I'd launch forward and shut that loathsome mouth of his. But I can't.
"No." Not really.
He begins to pace across the room thoughtfully, twirling a kunai lazily between his fingers. "So you're telling me that you, you, defeated Orochimaru just by wanting to?"
There's a small heat that rises to my cheeks. If he won't believe me, I can't help that. "Essentially."
His feet stop their track in the floor, and with his index finger poised at the tip of his blade, he regards me. I can feel his scrutinizing gaze, his brain assessing the truth of what I've said, as his forehead creases in uncertainty.
That look is really grating on my nerves and I have nothing to lose anyway. I really want to attack; at least it would bring me some small satisfaction. Besides, anything I do is unlikely to affect the outcome one way or the other.
For me, that is.
But for Naruto . . .
I hold my tongue, with great difficulty. The unspoken words taste bitter in my mouth.
Shinta walks forward then suddenly drops to a crouch before me, swinging that damn knife distractedly in his fingers.
"Did you ever even try to escape? Or did you just stay there, content as Orochimaru's little pet?"
My eyebrow twitches. I still don't like the insinuation he keeps trying to make. So subtle, this one, about as subtle as a ton of falling bricks in the middle of the wilderness. And that's a bit of a sore subject for me. Perhaps if I say nothing, the annoying little bug will leave me alone.
I glare.
He stares back.
My breath stalls angrily in my throat. Mouse's lip curls up in a sneer.
"You did, didn't you?"
I don't answer.
He leans in closer, his breath no better a smell than it has been any other day. Clearly he and hygiene have never been introduced.
"Didn't you?"
The stench wafts over me like fetid swamp fog.
"Didn't you?" He repeats yet again, that damn smirk on his face.
My eye starts in some crazy, uncontrolled tic, pulsing above my cheek. He just keeps staring at me. My jaw is tight, straining, my teeth grinding against one another.
"Yes."
His vapid smile deepens and he graciously pulls away. At least now I need not be subjected to that horrible chemical warfare otherwise known as his breath.
"And what happened?" The smirk plays over his lips as if he can't control it.
I grit my teeth, forcing the words through. "I failed."
"Oh?" His voice takes on the lilt of friendly interest as if we are discussing the weather rather than a life or death situation. "And you thought you would win?"
"Obviously." Idiot. I should have won. Honestly, I'm not quite sure why I didn't. "I should have been strong enough."
I hadn't really intended to say that out loud.
"But you weren't."
The truth cuts deep.
"I would've been," I snap. I would've, with just a little more time.
It burns, worse than the injuries he's given me, burns like a shame that will never heal. I thought I was strong enough. I really did. And I almost was.
Almost.
The story of my life. Told in an endless spiral, looping in on itself with no break and no escape. Almost there in time, almost the fastest, the strongest. Almost special.
Almost good enough to be called Itachi's brother.
Almost my father's son.
And it hurts. Always a day late and a jutsu short.
"But you lost." It is a statement not meant to be answered and Shinta doesn't wait for one. Instead he rises to resume his mindless pacing. "And when was this?"
No point in hiding that, it's the reason I resigned myself to my fate, in a fashion. No time left and no more choice. "The day before the transfer."
My interrogator hums under his breath and the room goes silent. Nothing to be heard, not even the breathing of the other ninja hiding out in their darkened corners like sneaky, sniffing rats. The only noise in my ears is the sound of my heartbeat.
"So then how long was Orochimaru in control before . . ." His lip curves again as if he has hold of some tempting secret. "Uzumaki saved you?"
My shoulders tense instinctively and I wince at the pain. The effects of Tsunade's serum are starting to wear off, but I'm not done yet. I need to set the record straight. I was not "saved". Uchiha Sasuke does not get "saved". "Helped", "aided", I suppose I could suffer that indignity for now. But "saved"?
Never.
My nerves are jagged at the thought of anyone ever believing such nonsense. But then again, there's little point. My future has already been written. But maybe, maybe, it can still help Naruto. I need to balance out the scales. One last thing.
I swallow my pride and it is a poisoned pill that lodges deep in my throat.
"I don't know," I tell him, answering his question. Let them believe what they want. I really don't care.
"You don't know?" He stops, turns, and quirks an eyebrow. "You must have some idea. Minutes? Hours? Days, weeks?"
My jaw aches. "I don't know."
Mouse looks oddly like he's won something. He inclines his head and grins like the cat he is not. "Well, then. Let's go back, shall we? Why did you try to escape him? Or don't you know the answer to that either?"
My hand trembles at my side, tingling with the desire to rip out his filthy throat. A metallic cackle sounds deep within my brain.
/Why indeed?/
Shut up.
/Of course you are incapable of real change, aren't you?/
Shut up.
/Still the same soft pathetic fool./
Shut. Up.
My breathing has grown labored, my hands clenched tight to restrain the urge to attack. A stream of sweat trickles over my face and drips off my skin to hit the floor as accusing drops of rain.
The color of my eyes begins to fluctuate, yellow to red, and the way I see the world changes. I can sense the heated mass of my chakra, even held back and stunted as it is and use all my willpower to keep it in check. Little Mouse's uneasiness is palpable in the air, thrumming in my veins and my black blood sings with his anxiety.
It is an effort to make my voice work. "There was nothing more he could teach me. Or would teach me." That's enough for him to know.
Since that day I saw them again: Sakura and Naruto, something had begun to subtly change in me. Or return. Or whatever. I don't know. I knew I wanted to leave Orochimaru. It just took me that long to make my move. I had to squeeze every last bit of knowledge I could out of the snake before I left, otherwise all the time would have been wasted.
And I can't have that.
No matter what lengths I had to go to, I would make sure my time and effort was not in vain.
Maybe I waited too long.
Maybe it was what Naruto said, always bothering me with "best friend this" and "best friend that".
Maybe it was the way Sakura looked at me like she didn't know quite who I was.
Maybe all these things.
Maybe none.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
It's a puzzle I can't make work, the pieces all there but refusing to fit. I close my eyes and concentrate, making the red settle and bring back the now natural yellow.
When I open them again, Shinta is staring at me with a look of awe and fear in his beady little eyes.
I smile at him.
His stance falters just a little.
Then he conspicuously clears his throat, looking nervously over to the shadowy scarred man lurking in the corner. Ibiki simply nods and Shinta comes to attention, his words stumbling as badly as his feet.
"S-so . . . " He stutters and I smirk. Scowling, he coughs again, shaking off his nerves. "OK. Then why don't you tell me what happened afterward. About the months you and Uzumaki disappeared?"
I blink at him. Well that's a whole other story, isn't it? But this is what I've been waiting for. The opportunity to remind them that Naruto is Naruto and not the fox.
It will be tricky.
Most of that time is between Naruto and me. It concerns no one else. It just isn't their business.
But I open my mouth to speak and let the words do what they may.
::-::
It is twilight when I first rouse, or maybe dawn, the half-light of the beginning or end of day filtering through the trees, littering their dappled shadows across the grass. The air feels cool but dry, with a trace of warmth just behind it slowly fading away.
Twilight, I'd guess.
Slowly, I blink a few times to clear the gummy sleep from my eyes and see . . . gnarly bark. A tree. Yes, lovely.
I put my hand to my temple and press hard as if that will somehow alleviate the headache that is trying to shatter my skull into a million tiny pieces. But my brain will not cooperate, swelling and throbbing against its bone cage.
I hear myself groan, low and guttural and pained. The last thing I can remember is the gluey taste that is still in my mouth, a mix of bile and blood. My gut is the only thing that really hurts aside from my head and it feels old, tender, and bruised but not stinging. I run my fingers over the area, testing gently.
Definitely bruised.
And surprisingly enough, there's a gash there, now bandaged, that I can't recall getting.
I roll onto my back and the world seems to spin much too fast. Everything is blurry yet clear, sharp and cloudy and I feel like I can see way too much. As if my mind is playing tricks on me, filling in a landscape that isn't there.
It makes my head hurt so I close my eyes.
I don't even know where I am.
The last I remember was Orochimaru, no longer human and myself much the same. I remember agreeing to that stupid bargain like it was worth something. And then Orochimaru defaulting on our deal.
I remember fighting because that is what I do.
And then at last, there is Naruto.
I bolt upright, my head reeling, twisting on my neck, the hammering of my brain making my teeth hurt. Pressing the palms of my hands to my eyes, I practice. Practice the way I have many times before, gathering the pain and locking it away deep inside myself where it can no longer affect me. Much in the same way I do with all other bothersome things.
I take a deep breath.
"Sasuke?"
I know that voice.
"You're up!" The tenor of it suddenly changes to become far too cheery and familiar, as if we have simply set up house in some little copse of trees, greeted by singing birds and friendly squirrels and everything is just perfect.
In other words, he is acting like the same idiot he has always been.
I can feel the pressure of Naruto's misplaced joy as a presence that weighs heavy in the air. I really don't want to deal with him. He'll whine and moan and ask for things that I'm not going to give him. That I can't. But he is there still, and he is a presence that cannot be ignored.
So I turn to him and open my eyes.
And see very quickly, in this order: Naruto with a huge grin and an armful of foraged vegetables. Naruto with a sad confused pout with an armful of vegetables. Naruto with an angry scowl dropping the vegetables. A fist hitting my face.
Some people may like being woken up with a dash of cold water and a kunai to their throat. I don't know who these people are, but despite opinion, I am certainly not one of them.
In fact, waking up this way tends to put me in a very foul mood.
So this is exactly what I'm in when Naruto does just that. And it is not helped when some of said water gets into my throat and chokes me. I turn my head to the side, feeling the sharp slice of metal through my skin. Blood seeps out the open wound, making the water pink, but it doesn't hurt.
Naruto jars my shoulder, shoving it to the ground. "Don't move!" he yells, banging my shoulder again.
The last bit of water escapes my mouth, finally allowing me to speak.
"I have to move if I'm choking."
"I don't care!" His voice is brittle and breaking. "Look at me."
But I don't. I don't follow his orders.
He grabs my chin, digging his fingers in unnecessarily and forces me to face him. He leans in close, threateningly, his breath ghosting over my skin. It is stale and sour from too long outdoor and, away from common luxuries like toothpaste.
"Give him back to me."
I'm staring at him but I can't quite see clearly. I feel like I'm looking through a fish-eye lens.
"Who?" I ask blandly, trying to get my bearings.
But his blue eyes tinge faintly purple, the pupils narrowing to strange cat-like slits. "You know who I'm talking about. You can't have him. He doesn't belong to you. Give him back."
Since I have no clue what the idiot's talking about, I pull my lips into a thin line and simply stare. That's your answer, dobe.
There are sharp points of pain as his nails dig into the soft muscle just below my jaw line. He leans in even closer and I can see the throb of tenseness in his neck, smell the salty tang of his sweat. A droplet slides over his forehead, down the bridge of his nose and falls off the tip, landing on my cheek.
I ignore it.
He speaks.
"Sasuke. Return him to me."
A moment's pause.
A moment more.
Then I pull my arms together, gather chakra to them and push, hard, against Naruto's chest, trying to force him off with no effect. Heat swells in my veins, boiling over my blood and setting every nerve in my body on point. My bones themselves burn with fury.
How dare he.
How dare he!
I try to pool my chakra again, but like my eyes, it's all screwed up and it refuses to work right. All I manage is to barely jostle Naruto, but he doesn't budge.
I grip my hands instead, take hold of his jacket and pull him closer so he can feel the justified rage coursing off me. I push the words carefully through my gritted teeth.
"I don't belong to anyone."
Then through sheer force of will, I gather my strength and sharply push him off so he stumbles, falling down on his backside. Still scowling, but confused now too, he gets to his feet. I can see that familiar fight in his eyes. That idiot determination. He hasn't grown at all, still the same immature kid he was back in the valley of the end.
He wants this fight as much as I do.
And I'm not in the mood to wait, despite my uncooperative body.
I reach back behind my shoulder to grab my sword only to find empty air. It better not have been left behind, that sword is an extension of me. And if Naruto has confiscated it, I'm damn well getting it back if I have to cut his arm off to do so.
Regardless, right now I'm weaponless and my chakra still fells skewed and cracked. Trying it now, like forcing a jutsu when I don't have the energy, could do more harm than good.
And now I have to find Itachi.
Guess it's taijutsu, then.
Well, maybe that's not so bad.
I race forward and swing my leg around, catching Naruto hard in the ribs. He falls back, but quickly scrambles to his feet, retaining his balance without skipping a beat. He rockets his fist forward, getting me in the jaw somehow. He tries to repeat it, but this time I block, and he tries again which I also block, but when he sweeps his leg across my feet, I misjudge the distance.
I begin tumbling back, but instead of leaving this as a mistake, I use it to my advantage. Swiftly, I grab his shoulders and use the momentum to yank him forward as I raise my knee, driving into his gut. He chokes loudly and I repeat it, harder this time, then immediately pull my arm back and punch him squarely in the eye with all my anger, all my pent-up frustration, all that wasted time that meant nothing.
He should never have come, interfering where he wasn't wanted, trying to own me like I'm an object.
He catches me in the eye and I throw a punch as well, but sloppily, somehow making contact.
I didn't want his help. I wanted to do things on my own, achieve my revenge on my own.
I swing again but wildly and he blocks it, whirling his leg around and hitting my side, right at the tender, unhealed wound. My hastily bandaged injury splits open and blood begins to seep out and over the cloth.
I don't care.
I'm too frustrated, beyond all imagining, that my head hurts, twisted and knotted and I hate him.
He should have discarded those bonds like I did.
I should've killed him back then. Back when I had the chance.
All he is is in the way.
Always in the way.
I should have killed him.
My fighting has become erratic; I can't seem to concentrate. Too easily, Naruto blocks everything I throw at him. Too stupidly, he does nothing more now than defend his self, not even giving me one punch back. His eyes keep flitting confusedly over my face and our surroundings as if he can't quite recall how he got here.
I just need him gone. Relying on him with Orochimaru was rash and stupid and over. Because I don't need him. I don't care if he lives or dies.
I don't need anyone who just looks at me as something to own.
I've had enough of that.
I wish he'd just go away.
Because I do not want him here.
All I need is my revenge; my hatred of Itachi. Nothing else matters. My life has always had but one sole singular purpose.
He's staring almost worriedly now, though I can barely tell. My vision is stretched and blurry and my body too tired from fighting for so many years.
My next punch is weak and lamely misses as my vision spins out of control. I practically fall right into him and he couldn't get a better chance than this, offered up and gift-wrapped, but he doesn't take it. In lieu of attacking, making the final strike, he grabs my wrist and throws me against the nearest tree, my skull bouncing painfully off the trunk.
It shouldn't hurt this much, I shouldn't feel so damn tired, and now blood is pouring out my stomach at a much more rapid rate.
I inhale deeply, slowly, calming my breath and remember my training. This is nothing. Nothing at all. Soon, I no longer notice it. My vision runs clear, though still oddly fish-eyed, but as long as I can see, I can fight.
But all that is there is Naruto, looming over me like a badly dressed, spiky-haired specter, his eyes in a strange angry puzzlement.
I scowl at him, this perpetual idiot before me.
"Let go."
But he doesn't, he just blinks a few times, stumbling over his thoughts before speaking.
"But-but you can't be." He purses his lips a moment. "Sasuke isn't like this. He's quiet and calm and creepy, not all wild and out-of-control . . ."
I'll kill him for that.
"Who are you?" Naruto asks, sounding as if he's genuinely curious.
I refuse to answer such an inane question. I wrap my fingers around his forearms and crush down. "Let go."
But the moron clearly isn't listening. He's deep in thought, a rare and scary notion; I can practically see the smoke rising from his head.
I could take him easily, even bleeding and chakra-impaired as I am, but I don't.
And why is that?
"Wait," he says suddenly. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait." He raises his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks and runs his thumbs over the sensitive skin below my eyes. He's staring intently, unnervingly, and the blue of his irises seem much stronger than they ever have before. "Maybe you are Sasuke. From a long time ago. The whiny, irritating, girly-brat that became my closest friend." His eyebrows pull together. "I thought he was gone."
I dig my nails into his arms, breaking the skin and thrash out my leg, catching him sharply in the shin. My anger boils inside me, one I have known for so many years, yet somehow different, blacker, sharper. Whiny? Irritating? Girly? I ought to snap his scrawny, stupid, pointless little neck.
"How dare you, usuratonkachi!"
I clip him again in the shin and he jerks slightly but otherwise pays it no mind. No, the idiot has that dumb grin on his face, dopey and too big, the one I shouldn't remember.
And he doesn't pull away. Instead he leans in closer, his skin brushing along mine, closer and closer, until his arms wrap around me and his face leans into my neck. And for some reason, I can't seem to move.
"Sasuke."
The warmth of his whisper floats over my throat right near my curse seal. The mark seems to flare for an instant but that can't be right. Then I feel a warm breathy softness pressed against my skin for a brief moment, but it is gone so quickly I'm not sure it was real. Naruto tenses a second and I feel the sharp, sudden intake of his breath. But in the next moment, he leans in and squeezes tighter.
I just stand there.
Almost reluctantly he pulls away and looks at me, that idiot smile on his face and his eyes are wet with unshed tears. What a baby.
I glare at him.
He takes a deep breath and lowers his head. I still simply stand there, idiot like him and I don't know why.
"Sasuke!" He shouts suddenly and steps dangerously near. He sneaks his hand under the scant protection of my clothing, his fingers spread out intrusively over the bloodied bandage on my abdomen. "Your wound is open."
And something inside me snaps. Before he has time to react, I lock onto his wrist and twist his arm as violently as I can. I hear the nasty series of breaks, the brutal tearing of flesh, but no other noise from Naruto. It's as if he has been struck too stunned to speak. He backs up awkwardly, looking at me with a hurt expression while his blood and mine stains the hand hanging limply off the end of his broken arm. The pain in his eyes isn't physical, but something too hard for me to comprehend. Kyuubi's red chakra begins to sneak over his injured arm.
Well that's what he gets for touching me. I told him to let go. Idiot. It's his fault. His fault. I turn from him and fall to my knees, clutching my bleeding stomach and breathing heavily. My heart is racing and it shouldn't be. I should have all this under control, nothing should affect me anymore.
I lean my head on the ground and wonder why it is this should make any difference.
And why it is I can't seem to leave.
::- -::
The hands that move up my arm bring me back to the present time. I continue to stare straight ahead and she finally eases her hands off me.
"You've been gone a long time," Sakura says, turning to dig through her medical bag. She takes a quick, sly look at me through the wisps of her flyaway pink hair. "What were you thinking about?"
I glare blankly at her for a second then go back to stare at the filthy, damaged wall. "Nothing."
She lets out a short laugh and sighs. "An awful lot of emotions you showed over nothing." She says it with a small tease to her voice, but when I look at her, her smile is sad but not mocking. With a shrug she explains. "You're not as good at hiding your feelings as you used to be."
My eyes shrink until they are almost closed, and my mouth pulls into a flat, thin line.
She smiles again and flicks the end of the hypodermic needle she's just pulled from her bag. A small bit of clear liquid sprays through the air. "This might hurt a little bit."
Placing the point at my upper arm, she breaks the skin easily and pushes the medicine in without any further warning. It feels strangely thick and heavy as it fills my veins. I raise an eyebrow to her.
Sakura only shrugs again and shoves the emptied needle into a small plastic bag before putting the whole thing gingerly into her sack. The medicine is still traveling down my arm; I can sense it, like a snake winding its way through my system.
Disturbing.
"What was that?" I ask, feigning disinterest.
The zip of Sakura closing her bag echoes through the barren room.
"Something very similar to what Tsunade-sama has been sneaking into your food." Sakura raises her eyebrows to me when I give her no acknowledgement. "I assumed you noticed."
I nod as my eyes droop slightly and the thickness of the medicine in my blood begins to feel less like an intrusion and more like a warm, comforting blanket. So I was correct and it was the Hokage that slipped that stuff to me before. But similar? More like ten times stronger.
Then Sakura smiles, rubs my arm affectionately and pulls down the sleeve to cover the recent needle-mark. I have the sensation of swaying, but I'm not moving, at least I don't think so. My mouth is parted slightly as I take in long, deep, satisfying breaths. I don't feel tired exactly, just immeasurably, enticingly, pleasantly relaxed.
"Well . . ." Sakura says and I can only guess she's trying to fill the obvious silence. Taking the bag in her hand, she starts to stand up when there is a short, sudden knock at the door.
We both turn our heads, Sakura quickly, me a bit more leisurely.
"Visitor!" A low voice barks, sounding annoyed for having to speak even this one short word.
There is a loud, reverberating clank as the locks are undone and the door swings open with a squeaky whine. Sakura scrambles to her feet, bag forgotten. I remain seated, hazy, and simply turn my head.
I don't know what to feel.
Naruto.
He looks okay. Pretty good actually. It would make me smile if I were the sort of person that did such things, but I'm not, so instead I do nothing.
"Naruto." Sakura stops short after taking a small step forward. Naruto leans back as the man with him mumbles something into his ear that I can't make out. The blond head bobs once and then he enters the room. The heavy door slams shut loudly behind him, final and judgmental and ominous.
Sakura fidgets nervously with her hands as she watches him, but he only smiles at her, that kind open smile that is his and his alone.
"Hi," he says.
"Hello," she answers.
Scintillating. Is it me or there is a sudden awkward tension in the air?
The two of them stare at each other a while, a little shifty and nervous, Sakura more so than Naruto. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she clears her throat and moves closer, raising her other hand to Naruto's cheek. Her lips turn up, but it doesn't look especially happy.
"You look a lot better," she says.
Naruto breaks into that wide trademark grin of his and replies. "Of course I am! I'm the great Uzumaki Naruto! Nothing can stop me."
Sakura indulges him with a soft laugh.
I'd roll my eyes if that were the sort of thing I do.
But it's not.
So I don't.
The girl drops her hand to her side and backs up just a bit. Something, some kind of secret exchange is going on between them through the silence, purposely leaving me out. A part of me becomes sharp as I watch them. The two of them, together, the exact thing Naruto always wanted and there they are and he's so happy with her and why am I here again?
Right, that debt.
The jerk's not even looking this way. Technically speaking, this is sort of my room. Any "visitors" should be for me. And yet here I am, sitting like superfluous furniture, not being visited. Not that I care, because I don't. Those days after Orochimaru and before now were a fleeting dream and nothing more. And now things are back to how they're supposed to be.
So "visit" all you want.
I don't care.
I don't.
There's a faint cackling in the back of my brain, apparently amused.
You can shut up any time now, thank you very much. I'm not really interested in anything you have to say.
I stare quite determinedly at the dirty wall in front of me.
"Well, I'm glad you finally made it." It's Sakura's voice, somewhere behind me. "But, if you don't mind my asking, how?" She sounds honestly perplexed.
Naruto laughs. It sounds flat, forced, disingenuous. "I have my ways. Nothing can hold me back when I make my mind to have something. You know that."
"Yeah." Her answer rings of regret.
The two of them move closer together.
"I, uh, I just gave him a shot. A pretty strong one. I didn't know you were coming, otherwise . . ." The unfinished sentence hangs in the air. "So, he's, well, let's say he might be a little off."
Then there's silence and I don't know what's happening but I don't turn because it is absolutely no concern of mine.
/Jealous?/
I frown. I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.
The wall is in fact rather interesting. There are an impressive number of cracks in it. One would think they'd repair it; otherwise a prisoner passing through might find a weak spot and manage escape. They would be ninja, after all, if they were jailed here and ninja are very resource . . .
"Sasuke."
It is Naruto speaking gently and I can't be sure whether it is a question or a statement, but either way, my immediate response is to turn around. Damn it! I shouldn't be answering a summons like some dog. Whatever's going on back there has zero to do with me anyway.
When I look over, I see him. Standing almost expectantly, his hands are fisted nervously at his sides, his smile gentle and his eyes this soft, airy blue. Sakura stands by the door, bag in hand, looking back over her shoulder. But she is nothing more than a blur in the background. Hardly noticed. Perhaps not fair, but true. All I really see is him. Of course, he is the brightest thing in the room, this vibrant garish splash of color that draws all attention, so it really is unavoidable.
For some reason, I get to my feet, not slow, not fast, just a regular pace and approach him. It's as if I'm drawn to him, his warm, healing chakra pulling me closer. It seems wrong, unnatural and yet absolutely right.
Maybe it's because I'm nearing the end and appearances no longer matter.
/Appearances always matter./
No, that isn't it. It's something different, something other. That damned bond I didn't want and couldn't break.
Before I know it, I'm standing right before him, he with the silly foolish look on his face. Yet he appears tense, more anxious than I've seen him in recent days and I can't help but wonder why.
/I thought you didn't care./
I say nothing, but feel my head fall forward, setting my forehead on his shoulder and I somehow feel better than before. His presence is like a balm to my senses.
That or it's the medication.
Definitely the medication.
"Sasuke." He whispers my name into my hair so that only I hear it and places his hands lightly on my arms.
There's a sharp, harsh knock somewhere outside myself, breaking into my consciousness, but I remain still.
"Guard!" Sakura barks sharply.
Again there is the metallic clang of a lock and the door opens. Without a word to either of us, Sakura leaves and the door slams hollowly behind her, leaving Naruto and I alone.
A few minutes pass as we stand there and soon everything begins taking its toll. My knees become weak and sag and my body starts leaning in closer to him.
"Whoa there," he says, his words making my hair flutter. His hands on my arms tighten near the shoulders and Sakura's
medicine sure must be working because it doesn't hurt. Naruto slowly guides us over to the sad little mattress and drops us onto it with an audible thump.
My head is still on his shoulder and I turn it slightly so I can see his hands resting conspicuously in his lap.
"How have they been treating you?" He asks after a minute in a low voice.
"Like a revered elder." I deadpan. He apparently hasn't gotten over his flair for inquiring after the obvious.
"Did," he starts, then stops, seeming to consider. "Did you just make a joke?"
"It's called being sar-cas-tic." Must I really explain these things?
His body shakes slightly with a small laugh and he shakes his head. "You made a joke," he says decidedly.
Wrong, idiot. But I don't feel like correcting him.
My nose is tucked up to his neck and I can smell the heat and sweat that mists off his skin.
"You've been training," I say.
"I have." Is his atypically short answer. Then he takes my hand, the one with the bandaged fingers, into his. Cupping it firmly between his two, he whispers "I'll show you," as if telling me a secret that no one could overhear.
He takes a deep breath and I feel the spike of chakra, a little of his, but mostly Kyuubi's, flowing through his arms and down to his fingers. I roll my head so that my ear is on his shoulder and watch the red glow engulf our joined hands. It's a hot, almost burning sensation then I feel a strange sort of shifting in my bones. It tingles but doesn't hurt much and the pain is gone nearly as soon as it started. Naruto lets go and carefully unwraps the bandages, discarding them. Hesitantly, I flex my fingers and they work perfectly, just like before, as if they were never broken. There isn't even any swelling.
"Neat trick, huh?" He states a little proudly.
I stop moving my fingers and crease my brow in vexation.
"When did you learn that?" I ask.
Naruto stops and his chin brushes my hair as he turns his head to look at me. I can tell he's pouting. "Aw, c'mon. You can't be mad. This could be useful. Whenever you or I or Sakura or anybody gets hurt, I can fix it. It's not that hard. I just concentrate and channel Kyuubi's chakra outward."
"Naruto . . ." I warn.
"I mean, I can't heal everything. At least not yet. Just little things like fingers and toes and stuff. But eventually I will and it could be really helpful. It's not dangerous or anything. I told you. I've been working at it, you know, keeping Kyuubi under control and all. You're not mad, are you? Why would you be mad?"
"Hn." I don't like the fox. And I don't trust him. I don't like Naruto depending on him so much; it's not safe. I can feel his aura, prowling behind Naruto's, biding his time, waiting for his chance.
He reminds me of things I'd rather not remember.
"Stop worrying." Naruto says, a little sadly. "I haven't had any problems since the hospital. Well, okay, no big ones, anyway," he reluctantly admits. "I've been working with Tsunade-baa-chan and Ero-sennin and they've been talking with the elders. Well, more like shouting. But anyway, things look all right. And they're all looking for another sealing jutsu to work with mine. Kinda like yours only better. But I'd still be able to use him when necessary and . . . "
"And it worked so well for me." I cut in.
"Yeah, well," Naruto grumbles. "That was your fault."
My back tenses defensively.
I know that.
I don't need any reminders. And there's nothing to be done about it now. The past is the past and I wouldn't change it anyway.
I start to pull away, but Naruto grips my newly healed hand and jerks me back. I fall to my old position more easily than I would like and did I mention how groggy this medication makes me?
"Don't, Sasuke. Don't pull away. Just don't . . ." he sighs heavily. "Don't be mad, OK?" When I don't respond, he pulls on my hand and repeats. "OK?"
"Hn." It's too much effort to argue right now. But I also notice he never said he didn't mean it.
He sighs once more and my head rises and falls with the movement. My hand is still in his and he absently begins rubbing his thumbs into my palm. It is gentle and firm and I'm not sure he knows he's doing it, but it's actually kind of nice. His hands are awfully warm and the pressure to my palm relaxes me more. I feel over-sensitized, maybe from the medication, and can feel in his hands the calluses and the texture of his fingerprints. His hands are much bigger than mine. Fatter, anyway. Darker and a little dirty, as apparently he didn't bother to clean up before he came here.
I hum quietly in contentment, which I didn't mean to do, but of course he notices.
He stops for a second, tense and stunned, but soon returns to that same slow, languidly pleasant motion. I don't know why it feels so nice or why I'm letting him touch me like this. Or better yet, how he can even stomach to touch these horribly ugly, cruel hands after they have hurt him time and time again.
I close my eyes.
He leans in a little closer and utters, low and raspy, "You like that, do you?"
"Hn."
I can feel his smile when he turns to stare at his hands as they move up to my fingers.
"You're so quiet and compliant, Sasuke," he says in an ambiguous tone. "I should get Sakura to put you on drugs more often."
He chuckles, but I ignore him in the way I am accustomed. He continues to massage my hand and it is so soothing that I adjust my position to get more comfortable. I tilt my head into the crook of his neck. The pressure on my hand becomes deeper, slower, even as his breathing grows harsh. The roughness of his tough skin rubs into mine and I can't say I don't like it.
Then suddenly he stops and we both stay motionless for a while until he draws a deep breath and holds it. Finally, he lets it out in a long shuddering pass. The vein in his neck throbs against my cheek at a heightened pace and without warning he lets out a little whine, throws my hand away from him, pushes me off, and jumps to his feet.
I almost fall flat on my face. I open my eyes and glower fiercely at him as he nervously drills a two-meter gully into the floor. He comes to an abrupt halt and turns to me, flexing his hands over and over at his sides.
"Sasuke," he starts anxiously. "We need to talk."
I arch an eyebrow.
Taking this as his cue, he goes on. "I, uh, I." He looks straight at me then his eyes twitch oddly and shift to the side. He swallows noisily and then faces me, wearing a completely different expression. "I want you to tell them."
That's not what he was going to say.
I continue to stare.
"Don't give me a hard time about this, Sasuke," He pauses thoughtfully before going on. "Tell them, okay? Just tell them everything. I don't," his nervous hands tighten into fists, gripping the cuffs of his jacket. "I don't want you to be hurt anymore."
I narrow my eyes. "Not your decision."
He pouts. "You're being stupid."
"I'm being stupid?"
"Yeah." His voice grows stronger with supposed conviction. "Yeah. Why are you doing this? To prove what? That you can? It's stupid. Just stupid."
I continue to glare at him, maybe it is a little of that, but not all. And he should know that.
Naruto stands rather stupidly himself in the middle of the room, stock-still, hands at his sides like a soldier. "You don't need to do this," he says adamantly. "I don't need your help. I'll be fine on my own."
"Who ever said I'm helping you?"
"Well, you are, aren't you?" He almost sounds disappointed.
I don't answer.
He sighs. "Just tell them. Sasuke, they'll just keep hurting you until you do. I can take care of myself." The blue of his eyes is intense, glowing and boring into my skull and I wish he'd stop with his hero complex already. "I'm going to tell them," he states plainly. "I'm going to protect you."
I jump to my feet too quickly and pretend my head isn't spinning and that I didn't just almost lose my balance. "Protect me? Protect me? I don't need your damn protection!"
"Yes you do." His mouth turns down dramatically. "And if you'd stop being such an idiot, you'd see that!"
"Who are you calling an idiot, idiot?"
"Look in a mirror!"
The palms of my hands burn from the scraping of my nails. If this is what he came for, he shouldn't have wasted his time.
I won't bargain for a life I don't have. I drop my voice to a threatening whisper.
"I'll do what I want."
Naruto huffs like a frustrated little kid who can't get his way. "Why do you have to fight me on everything?"
I say nothing, only scowl.
"Why are you such a bastard, Sasuke?" He sounds caught between resignation and frustration. He kicks his foot childishly at some collected dirt on the ground.
His eyes take on a darker hue, deeper and sinister and they become small in a way that looks wrong on his otherwise rounded face.
"Maybe I should have left you there, with him, if you loved being there so much."
That's a low blow, crueler perhaps than he even realizes, but I won't show it. I run my tongue along the roof of my mouth to choke back the bitterness.
"Maybe you should have."
He looks straight at me, his emotions fluctuating wildly. The blue of his eyes intensifies, purples, and grows large.
"Why do I even bother?" He grows louder, letting his aggravation, his rage take over. "Why should I? You're not worth it, you know. You're not. I really don't know why I should bother. I don't know why I should fight, should almost die. You don't even care, do you? You never did, only about yourself and your vengeance. You're just doing this so you don't have to feel guilty anymore. Well, guess what? Feel guilty. You are." It's better his way. Better for him to hate me, even though it hurts in a way I can't describe. "This is all for your own selfish reasons. You want to pretend you're doing the right thing, like some sort of sacrifice. But doing the right thing for the wrong reasons make the whole thing worthless. You're just scared of living after what you've done." He takes a deep breath. "I don't know why I should care. I don't know why I should waste my time! Go ahead and throw your life away! It makes no difference to me! I only spent three years of my life getting strong enough to get you back, that's all. I only almost cost me my life. And Sakura's and Kakashi's and Yamato's and a lot of people and you're so not worth it, Sasuke. You're not. I don't know why I have to go through all this. I don't know why I-"
He stops suddenly, slamming his jaw shut with a clack of his teeth. His eyebrows twitch anxiously as if he surprised himself at this outburst. Then slowly, carefully, his eyes cloud over, becoming like steel, flat and emotionless.
"I hate you."
It hurts more than I expected.
Like my heart can't beat, my lungs can't breathe and every one of my bones is crumbling in on itself. My blood has all dried up and everything is stretched too far, too tight, but won't break and give me release.
I bite the back of my tongue briefly to remind myself who I am.
And fall back to the reply I have repeated many times before. "I don't feel anything for you."
He seems to swallow a violent hiccup and nods. "I know."
Does he know it's a lie?
Disdain, hate, friendship, anger, jealousy, awe. There's not a time when I don't feel something for Naruto. It was too much, in the way, and I had to get away.
I should never have felt anything.
Only Naruto doesn't allow for that. And that's why, that's why . . .
"I'll do what I want," I repeat. I'll be the one making the choices. "You can't stop me."
He sniffles, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "I hate you. Why now? Of all times, of all chances, after everything! Why now?"
And now he's blubbering, like I'm supposed to feel bad.
"Enough. Just go." This is getting tiresome. I'm beginning to wish he'd never come. "Stop bothering. None. of. it. makes. a. difference."
He takes an awkward step back as if I were physically threatening him, which oddly enough, I'm not.
"What do you mean?"
He can't honestly not know. I scoff derisively. "You're still so naïve, Naruto."
"Don't talk like that." Once again, a little sad, a little disappointed.
"I'll talk however I want." I curl my lip. "Besides, I thought you hated me." I'm impressed how flatly I got that out.
"Stop talking like that!" His yell bounces in the air and hits me in the back of the head.
"Why are you such an idiot?"
My skull throbs as it bangs the wall Naruto has thrown me against. His hands grip the neck of my shirt, his elbows pushing on my bruised ribs. The day is still in effect so all I feel is pressure with just the pinch of pain. I look at Naruto as he frowns at me, his eyes tinted red, his teeth pointed and his whisker marks carving deep into his face.
It always ends up like this.
Fighting.
At each other's throats.
Did I honestly think things could ever be different?
No, maybe not.
"I want you to live, okay?" his voice flutters hot over my face. ""What's so wrong with that? I want you to live and stay here. In Konoha. With . . . us."
"You're delusional."
"I'm not! Stop trying to act so damn noble." He then hurls a particularly sharp barb. "It doesn't suit you."
I suddenly feel completely calm, collected and in control. "Get off."
"Not until you promise me!" He's being irrational.
"I'm not promising anything."
Naruto pulls back his arm, the anger swelling off him and I simply close my eyes, waiting for the fist to make contact. The air whistles beside me as the force of his power is drawn in one, concentrated straight line. The wall by my head cracks, a long jagged line extending from ceiling to floor, the aftershocks resounding in my spine. When I open my eyes, Naruto's head is bowed, his body shaking from rage and the scent of blood from his hand fills my nostrils.
His shoulders heave from the effort and I watch them go up and down, up and down.
The heat of his rage warms me.
The repetitive sound of metal on metal, of jingles and clanks and rusty hinges permeates the room, an offset to Naruto's heavy breathing. The door opens and a man I have not seen before enters.
I straighten up, ready to go to whatever "new" questions they have in mind, but what happens, rather truthfully, surprises me.
"Uzumaki Naruto, it is time."
My eyes widen and flash back to him, but all that I see are the yellow and golden strands of his hair. Then his hand drops and he raises his head. He looks so much older, like the past few seconds have somehow aged him several years.
A pathetic "wha . . . " is the only thing I'm able to force through my mouth.
He gives me a crooked smile and looks nothing at all like the way he should. "You're right, Sasuke." It's creepy, how quiet he sounds. "None of it does make a difference. I thought I told you." Slowly, he walks over and stands beside his armed escort, his back to me. "You didn't honestly think I'd get out of this unscathed, did you? Now who's being naïve?"
I stare mutely as the man takes Naruto by the elbow and leads him away. I get one last, mournful look from Naruto before the door closes with a dull clang that resounds in the shadows of my mind.
/Ah, useless as always./
Is this it? Will that be the last I ever see of him and like every other damn time we waste it fighting?
Was all the time spent in that room for nothing?
Suddenly finding my muscles and bones again, I rush the door, throwing the full of my weight against it. It does little to nothing to move the cold hard barrier. Sakura's drugs are strong; I don't feel a thing.
It isn't fair.
Pounding my fists on the door, I scream through it as best I can. "Naruto! Hey, dobe! Don't do anything stupid! Do you hear me? Naruto!"
The sound of my own voice slaps me in the face in the empty room, but he makes no answer. I don't know if he can even hear me.
I can't let it be for nothing.
This isn't the way the story is supposed to go.
I resume slamming my fists against the door in a furious onslaught as the feeling that this is my fault; that I should have watched what I said better, sinks like a stone into the pit of my stomach. They're going after him because of me.
"Guard! Guard! Let me out! I have something to say! Are you listening? Let me out!"
I slam the flat of my hand on the door and the pain is starting to filter through now, but I don't care. "Hey, you! I said I have something to say!"
But the bastards don't answer, don't move, don't do anything; just stand there like maddening silent stone statues.
I continue to shout until my voice is hoarse, continue to punch and kick and throw my shoulder against the door until I'm bruised and bleeding and all of Naruto and Sakura's work is undone. I continue for what feels like, and likely is, hours, but no one cares. I continue until all my energy is spent, until I can no longer move or breathe and I'm so tired that all I can do is slide to my knees, my head leaning on the door, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides.
I stare at the sliver of floor in the crack beneath the door as it slowly tinges with the red of my dripping blood.
My gasping breath smacks me in the face in a staccato of dusty foul accusation.
Why. Why do we always end up fighting every single time?
