.

"Osenko": incense sticks

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Ends and Beginnings


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Naruto lay in his bed, watching a spider spin a glistening web against his bedroom window. It was dark outside, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He glanced at his clock: 3:00 am. One week had lapsed since his and Neji's gruesome discovery of the dead Uchiha brothers, and the funeral was scheduled for that afternoon. Naruto had scarcely gotten any sleep following that day, for each time he drifted into a dream, the feel of Sasuke's cold skin lurched into his thoughts. He prayed that the funeral would give him the sense of closing he so desperately sought.

He solemnly got dressed in his ceremonial clothes in spite of the early hour, slipped on his shoes, and quietly exited his dorm.

.


.

For a long while he walked, relying on his instincts to steer him to a destination of any kind. The glow of the slender crescent moon cast misty shadows over the ground, bathing the area in ghostly bleakness. He paused by the area where the interment was to take place, noting the deathly silence hanging in the air like still fog. The mineral aroma of rain saturated the sky, promising a storm later that morning.

The village progressively yielded to fields and forests with each of his steps. The chirps of crickets led him to wherever he was going and allowed his brain to reflect on how he had gotten to this point in his life. Why did it seem that everyone with whom he associated wind up injured or dying? Iruka-sensei, Gaara, Lee, Neji, Chouji, Kiba, Akamaru, the third Hokage, his parents…. Was it the Kyuubi's rage? As he'd done so many times before, he cursed his misfortune. Why had the Fourth Hokage chosen him in which to seal the demon fox… to label him as an outcast and thing to be feared by the populace? Naruto had had no say in the decision fifteen years back.

There had been warning signs of Sasuke's unlikeliness of survival: on their first A-Rank mission he almost died at the hands of that boy Haku; in the Forest of Death he'd been incapacitated owning to Orochimaru's bite; at the Chuunin Competition Gaara had almost slaughtered him; and in Otafaku Town his brother had snapped his bones like twigs then mentally debilitated him with Tsukuyomi, leaving him in a coma for just about two months. His insides writhed thinking back on it all with retrospect. They had been omens, alerting Naruto to not associate with him… but he didn't heed the warnings. And now, his friend's cold body was to be cremated later because of Naruto's wanting to sustain a camaraderie that never was. "No… Sasuke knew about hardships long before I met him," he reconsidered, trying to mitigate his regrets. Still, he rested his hand over the seal on his naval, people's luck seems to run out when I'm near.

He stopped and looked up – he was at the Third Training Grounds' Hero Memorial Stone. "So, feet… this is where you've brought me, huh?" he mutedly asked, peering at the names of the fallen shinobi of Konoha. He noticed neither Sasuke nor Itachi's names engraved in the black granite, and he realized dishearteningly Itachi would never get a place on the monument. Although it happened eight years past, he was still condemned a monster for slaughtering his clan and, up until his death, a wanted criminal. If he were listed amongst the names of KIA shinobi, there'd be an uproar from the public, which brought to mind a serious question: how would he be acknowledged at the funeral? Naruto traced the names etched on the weathered block. Grandma Tsunade will have an answer, he thought. He curled into a ball on the ground, not caring that he dirtied his garments by doing so. Life had somehow come to a standstill for him, and he was mortified by the possibility it would remain as such. Why had the Pervy Sage decided to peruse Ayame's bottom instead of persisting in the raucous conversation? Naruto wouldn't have detected Sasuke's voice then. If only he hadn't heard Sasuke that night at Ichiraku; if only Sasuke hadn't killed Orochimaru; if only he'd never been infected with the Cursed Seal of Heaven; if only Sasuke hadn't been placed on the same team as him. If only he hadn't seen him sitting by himself on the dock.

If only Naruto had not cared.

Perhaps Sasuke was right saying emotions equated inferiority.

He pulled Sasuke's note from his pocket, something he'd been putting off since taking it from his dead comrade's hand. He hesitated before releasing the seal; the handwriting was scrawled, nearly illegible, and a few of the words were blotted with what looked like water drop stains. The words were not harsh, but a subdued recounting of Sasuke's last week alive, from his fight with Orochimaru, his return to Konoha and his hallucination in his home, to his fight and last words with Itachi. Naruto hungrily took in the commentary, as Sasuke had willingly relayed it to Naruto specifically, privately. The final paragraph was not an account of a journey, but a supplication of his terrible behavior and actions; the last word on the page sent a pain through Naruto's heart: "Sorry."

He wiped his eyes and read the letter again, and a third time after that. These were words of the Sasuke the Uchiha had spoken about at the katsudon shop… who he was before the massacre.

He batted his bloodshot eyes in exhaustion, sensing cool drops of rain splashing against his cheek. Grief benumbed him, deadening his body and his will to thrive. Closing his lids completely, his thoughts surrendered to restless sleep, but not before wishing that the precipitation would wash away his guilt.

.


.

"Hey, wake up."

Naruto stirred a bit.

"Get up, you loser. Who sleeps on the ground, anyway?"

Naruto's blue eyes snapped open hearing the familiar voice. "Sasuke?" He looked up; Sasuke stood above him, looking unimpressed.

"What, do your legs not work?" He offered his hand to Naruto. "You're so helpless sometimes." He raised an eyebrow. "What's with the tears?"

Naruto only then became aware of the tears streaming from his eyes. "You're… you're alive."

Sasuke scoffed. "C'mon, you can't stay out here. We have to get back to the village. Remember?"

"Wait a second!" He pried his arm free. "You died. I saw your body."

Sasuke regarded him with that cold Uchiha gaze. "Stop babbling, Usuratonkatchi. Do I look dead to you?"

Naruto replayed the question in his mind, and a thin smile crinkled his lips, and he laughed. "I guess not." He rested his hands behind his head. "What a stupid dream I had, huh?"

The Uchiha rolled his eyes and started walking away. "Whatever." He looked up. "C'mon, it's about to rain."

"Sasuke!"

"What now?"

He walked up to him. "I wanna apologize."

"For?"

He shuffled his feet. "All these years, I was always competing with you. You had a real reason; I was just trying to feed my pride."

Sasuke shrugged. "That was a reason, I suppose."

"No, you were avenging your family. You had nothing else. I was just proving to others that I could amount to something more." His voice lowered. "I had dreams… aspirations. I knew I could go forward. You…"

"Couldn't?" Sasuke finished the thought. "Yeah, I know. And you were right – my life was a dead end." He placed his hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Still, your reason for getting stronger was better than mine." He smiled and looked skyward as the rain started lightly falling. "Let's go." He started to leave.

"Sasuke!"

"What idiot?!"

"Did… do you hate me?"

Sasuke looked at him in a quiet moment before shaking his head. "No. I don't hate you. And I never did."

A tear rolled down Naruto's cheek from the pure, beautiful clarification. "Thank you, Sasuke," he whispered inaudibly, and ran to catch up, feeling the weight of the world drift from his shoulders like a zephyr from a grassy cliff.

.


.

A pelting rainstorm bombarding his face woke him. Half dazed, he looked around for Sasuke, but as the fog of disorientation lifted from his mind, he knew reality. He couldn't see the sun's position behind the steel-grey overcast. He ran back to the village, his gasping blocking out the ruckus of the storm.

When he arrived back at the designated service area he saw helpers covering a memorial table. "What time is it?!"

"A little after 8:00 am," one answered while he placed a rock on the cloth to pin it down against the howling wind.

The sour churning in Naruto's gut vanished and he sighed in bittersweet relief. He was keenly perceptive of the table's presence, but did not want to look at it and remind himself of its purpose. He plodded back to his dorm to wash his muddy clothing, as well as wait until the dreaded time…

… the testament of his inefficiency.

.


.

As 2:00 pm loomed, he headed out in his damp outfit. Handfuls of shinobi and high-ranking officials percolated into the area. Naruto recognized some of the nobles as ones who had traveled to Konoha to see Sasuke contend in the Chuunin Competition years prior.

He somberly took a seat in the first row, closest to the reliquary. The rain had slowed to a frigid drizzle, and the table had been uncovered. He walked up to it and observed the contents. Vases of white chrysanthemums flanked framed photographs of Sasuke and Itachi, while slender osenko wafted aromatically from small incense holders. He gazed at Sasuke's picture: it was an old photograph taken back when he was a genin, his headband displayed on his forehead. He didn't question the reason for the erstwhile picture; no recent photographs of Sasuke existed. He smiled morosely at the serious face that scowled back; the image was a poignant time machine of nostalgia for Naruto, but one which only permitted view of a cold, unmoving portion from a bygone time. Itachi's picture, too, was dated. He wore not the Akatsuki uniform but regular clothing, and he looked young… it was probably taken months before the massacre. The primary idiosyncrasy that jumped out at Naruto was Itachi's smile; of the few times he confronted the elder Uchiha he never once saw a smile on his face – to see it now in the captured image testified that he had once been happy. As he studied Itachi's photo, something odd caught his attention: the indicated name was 'Uchiha Tsuku'.

He turned around, wanting verification to what this meant. At that moment, Tsunade, sitting in the first row next to Shizune and Ton Ton, caught his eye and flagged him over. "Hey… how are you?" she asked in a fragile tone.

He murmured an indistinct reply, fighting down the frigid queasiness roiling in him. "What's going on? Why is his name 'Tsuku'?"

Making certain no one was in earshot, she lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's for security measures. If the village finds out his true name there'll be a riot. What's more, if Akatsuki discovers we have his body they might demand it back." She straightened and stared pass the photographs. "Both those reasons are why we gave him the pseudonym – we're saying he's a cousin from another village."

Indeed, Naruto only then noticed the tight security in the form of a slew of clandestine ANBU Black Ops strategically spread throughout the crowd. When he reflected on it, despite hiding behind the pretense of a bogus name, the village was taking an enormous gamble by holding a funeral for Itachi; even Sasuke had a disreputable reputation what with fleeing to Orochimaru. Naruto didn't like the fact that they disguised Itachi's identity, but it was logical. All the same, it was degrading that his name had to be censored during his final farewell.

A select few had knowledge of this farce. A row behind, he heard a regional lord speaking with his wife, mentioning "Itachi" and "Akatsuki". As soon as a group walked past, the couple stopped their discussion.

Naruto stared straight ahead at the base of the Hokage face cliff. The mumbles of the swelling crowd filtered through his ears but made no sense in his brain. None of them - not Kakashi nor Tsunade, not even the grieving Sakura - could grasp the whole enormity of what had been lost when Sasuke left the world.

Gradually, people he recognized arrived: Sakura, Kakashi, Neji, Shikamaru, Ino, Chouji, Kiba and Akamaru, Lee, Ten Ten, Hinata, Shino, Iruka-sensei, Gai, Kuranai, Jiraiya, Konohamaru, Genma, Anko, Ibiki, Kotetsu, Izumo, Raido… they were all there, with expressions ranging from stoicism to tearful shock.

Sakura silently took a seat to Naruto's immediate left. She was composed, yet so frightfully chalk-white she might have been a china figure.

Tsunade leaned past Naruto and asked, "Is that herbal mixture I made helping you sleep, Sakura?"

"Yes. Thank you," she softly replied.

They didn't speak another word for forty minutes. Naruto cyclically slipped in and out of shock, watching everything pass by him in a measured state. He believed the only thing that kept him going was autonomic willpower. Nothing felt right, as if he was wearing somebody else's skin. The funeral must have been in error, Naruto thought, for Sasuke couldn't have died. Maybe it was all a joke concocted by him merely to shake up Naruto, and at the final minute he'd poke his head around a corner and announce the stunt's deceit. Naruto deluded himself with this leeway, and with a sliver of hopefulness watched for any signs of the Uchiha's arrival.

Finally, as 4:00 pm advanced, Tsunade rose and went over to the podium erected near the memorial table. In an unspoken cue, everyone rose from his or her seats. She saw a multitude of hundreds sweeping the area, a single, breathing organism recognizing the death of two. Respiring, she spoke. "Fellow shinobi and non-shinobi alike, today we acknowledge a deep and sad lost for the five Great Nations." She nodded to someone far in the back of the crowd and said, "Bring them now."

The acid in Naruto's stomach lurched upwards – he knew the meaning of her order. Craning his head to where Tsunade had nodded, he saw pallbearers guiding a pair of funerary biers.

"We honor the memory of Uchiha Sasuke and his cousin, Uchiha Tsuku."

He watched in horror as they neared, feeling lightheaded.

"Both men were superb ninja – we will know their absence."

He was dizzy with fear and had to grab his chair for support. He heard the pallbearers' footsteps clearly.

"As you may be aware, Sasuke survived the infamous Uchiha massacre some eight years ago. His hardships allowed him to bud into an elite fighter."

He focused intently on the carved phoenixes on the biers' tops, not wanting to view the bodies.

"Tsuku excelled in genjutsu and katon jutsu in Kumogakure, unbeknownst to many…."

He saw Sasuke's profile in his peripheral.

"Their premature deaths are tragic…"

Just look! he willed himself.

"… and unfair."

He looked… and nothing terrible happened. There were Sasuke and Itachi, dressed in snowflake-white kimono, right panel overlapping the left, with a kunai on each chest. Surrounding the brothers was a bed of soft chrysanthemums, and their obi displayed the Uchiha family crest, while new Konoha bands graced their foreheads; their personal, damage forehead protectors lay by their sides, Itachi's face-down so no one could see the scratched Konoha insignia. Their faces and hands were washed and their hair lovingly combed. Other than the faint shadowing on their temples, cheeks and under the eyes, nothing seemed out of the ordinary; they looked so serene.

He turned his attention back to Tsunade when he heard her cracking voice. "The ancient and once-proud Uchiha family no longer exists with their passing." She paused and wiped her eyes with a tissue. "Never again will we see a katon jutsu performed by its true inheritor. Never again will a Sharingan heir walk amongst us. Their deaths took with them a legacy that spanned hundreds of years."

The pallbearers carefully lowered the biers onto the wooden pyre. Sakura buried her face into Naruto's shoulder. He, however, barely paid notice, as he absorbedly watched for any indication of movement from Sasuke. C'mon… wake up, Sasuke, his brain pleaded. This has gone on long enough.

"For a brief moment last week, Sasuke returned to Konoha after a two-and-a-half year absence interval. And, like today, it was raining. As he reappeared with the rain, so shall he and Tsuku leave with the rain."

An assistant lit a torch and touched it to the oil-saturated woodpile; it ignited at once, roaring with blasting heat. Naruto quashed the inclination to scream for them to stop, trying to regain his rationality.

"Since fire was the element of the Uchiha clan, cremation is ironically fitting for them." She barely finished when she started crying, her shaking arms supporting her. "May their memories burn forever in our hearts. And may their spirits find peace after a lifetime of turmoil." She covered her mouth and returned to her seat, stifling her tears.

Naruto watched the flames consume the biers, finally taking Itachi and Sasuke. The smoke coiled upward like a thick, black worm, mingling with the swirling overcast. He felt the heat bathing his skin as he witnessed the storming inferno, and the camphor smoke stung his eyes. The framework of the biers collapsed in the flames, casting embers into the sky. Soon after, the once-markedly separate blazes raged as one, massive bonfire.

Steadily, people lined up in a procession to pay their respects. In single file, they placed a flower by each Uchiha's photograph. Although Naruto was in the front row, he opted to wait before he had to say his goodbyes.

The line was immense; Naruto hadn't realized Sasuke was that adulated. He heard people mourning, their cries drifting with the billowing smoke like a bizarre lullaby.

Sakura weakly stood and walked to the end of the cavalcade, as did members from the other squads. Nobody spoke in the queue; no waves of greeting were passed – the mood was far too oppressive. No one ever imagined this day would come… that the insuperable Uchiha Sasuke would succumb to death, heralding the extinction of the clan. But it wasn't just the issue of his passing that weighed heavily in the air like a pulsating virus. Uneasy rumors concerning speculations as to how he died circulated: had he been assassinated by one of Orochimaru's men? Did he take his own life? Since the corpse was free of any substantial trauma, suspicions arose and convoluted tightly with passage through each set of lips.

The fire smoldered evenly and the crackling of the wood filled the area. Naruto shielded his face in his quivering palm to hide his tears. This wasn't supposed to have happened – Sasuke was to live, existing in the shadow of Naruto after he - Konoha's number one hyper-active, knucklehead ninja – had consummated his ambition of becoming Hokage. He had repetitively visualized swaggering before the Uchiha, rubbing it in his face by gloating about his accomplishment. Now, the only way he would get to see Sasuke was if he visited his grave. He felt like he was attending his own funeral… engulfed in an inferno with no one hearing his shrieks of incurable torment. And in reality, nobody could fathom the actual depths of his pain.

With time, people filed out of the service. Even while the crowd thinned, the pyre incessantly burned – it would be hours until the fires died and the cremation was complete. People exchanged solemn farewells with one another before parting ways, returning to their normal lives and schedules.

Sakura at long last reached the table alongside Kakashi. She smiled tightly as she regarded Sasuke's photograph, warm tears rolling down her cheeks. "I did love you, Sasuke… I guess this was more important to you, though." She gently stacked the blossom with the others. Assuming Itachi was to blame for it all, she failed to acknowledge his photo with neither a glance nor a flower and regained her seat by Naruto, resting her head on his shoulder. In happier times, this would've thrilled him; now, he was sickened, knowledgeable that her sorrow was his doing. Again, he apologized soundlessly… to her, to everybody, to Sasuke. I couldn't save you… I wasn't strong enough, he atoned repetitively within the deepest crevices of his mind to Sasuke. He could see his face emblazoned heavily in his remembrance, fluctuating from his melancholic expression so prevalent from his childhood, his supercilious smirks during their years as Team 7, his wild-eyed wrath as he plunged his arm through Naruto's chest in the Valley of the End, and his impassive mask of less than two weeks previous.

Other images pressed into his consciousness, too:

their shared satisfaction of completing climbing trees without their hands;

the rare occasions when the laughed together;

Sasuke's begrudged praise of Naruto's progression.

Naruto felt a tickle of joy rise from his innards, but it didn't develop into anything more. These recollections, both good and bad, were now the only traces of Sasuke's existence available to Naruto, and he desired nothing more than to embrace them to ensure they'd always remain with him.

Kakashi placed a bloom by each image and folded his hands before him. "Sasuke, you were… a superb student, certain to make any teacher proud. I'm honored I can tell people that I was once your mentor." He turned his attention to Itachi's picture, the firelight reflecting in his staid eyes. "Itachi, you were a wonderful ANBU captain, comrade… and friend." He inhaled abrasively and dipped his head in anguish. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to neutralize your Cursed Mark. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened." He smiled tenderly at the images. "I'll miss you both. Sleep well." He touched his hands together in prayer then left, tugging his vest against his neck tightly to ward off the chill constricting the air.

As the numbers dwindled, the remaining attendees congregated into small groups by taking seats next to people sitting near them. There were still unhealed wounds that needed closure, and talking was the best way to expedite the curative process. Shikamaru forewent leaving with Ino and Chouji and instead meandered over to Naruto. "It's troublesome, isn't it? Having someone you care about die," he remarked stolidly, lowering himself into an empty chair. He tapped a cigarette out of a carton, taking it in his teeth. He lit it, snuffing the match in a puddle. "I was a mess when Asuma died. That's why I started smoking – sort of my personal tribute to him." He grinned, though it radiated unambiguous pain.

Naruto watched the crackling fire, absorbing the chuunin's words. He distractedly twirled his pair of offering flowers back and forth between his thumb and fingers, bruising the stems.

"I didn't know much about Sasuke, other than he was a top-ranked shinobi of the Uchiha clan and he trained with Orochimaru. I hardly knew him personally." He exhaled the acrid smoke. "I can't imagine what you're going through, having been on the same team as him."

Naruto's brow wrinkled. "I barely knew him, either."

"Huh?"

"He never… he never opened up to Sakura, Kakashi, or me. He always wanted to be left alone or practice on his own," he muttered, staring at the water near Shikamaru's feet.

Shikamaru scrutinized him before nodding perceptively. "So… he was a mystery to everyone, then."

Neji walked up to the altar and prayed in silence. After, he spied Naruto, Shikamaru, and Sakura and walked over. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Have at it," Shikamaru answered, indicating an empty chair next to him.

Neji lowered himself collectedly, clasping his hands. "Again, we fell short in our mission to rescue Sasuke," he huffed, recalling how years back he, Naruto, Shikamaru, Chouji, and Kiba had failed to retrieve him from Orochimaru's Sound Four team.

"Well, we couldn't be expected to go after him whenever he had inkling to leave," Shikamaru sighed, wiping the drizzle off his face.

"It's all my fault," Naruto muttered, his voice blending with the fire's snapping.

The two stared at him. "What do you mean?" Neji queried.

The painful memories rushed like a flood that had breached a blockade, each crystal clear and accusatory. "When I was younger, I would see him, crying and alone. I knew about his village and figured he needed a friend, but I… I never spoke to him." He squeezed his hand shut with regret. "I was jealous. I let my stupid jealously win and I shunned him." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his shame flaring. "Maybe if I'd befriended him back then, he would've known someone cared for him, and focus his attention on that instead of festering in a pool of revenge."

"Perhaps… perhaps not," Neji reflected. "You can't dwell on past choices. Life only moves in one direction, and that's forward. Hopefully, one can walk away from a situation having learned something." He turned his gaze to the combustion, the firelight dancing in his pale eyes. "Who knows? Possibly we'll all learn something from this chapter in our lives."

"And what did I learn?!" he screamed. "That I can't even save my friend?!"

Sakura pushed her tear-dampened hair off her face. "He's right, Naruto. You can't wonder what could've happened. Anyway," she smiled bleakly, "Sasuke was a lost cause, even back then."

He shook his head. "Don't make excuses for me, Sakura."

She laughed softly. "Every girl vied for his attention. We'd talk to him, offer him gifts, invite him to play with us, and show him kindness. But he… he never reciprocated the camaraderie." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Even if you had tried to be his friend back then, he probably would have brushed you off, too."

"We were just collective pawns in his game of chess, while Itachi was the king, his ultimate goal," Tsunade suddenly interjected.

The four shinobi evaluated the Hokage's observation and tacitly concurred. They could not allow this to hinder them – though Sasuke had been a fellow ninja, he'd also been no more than a crease in the cloth of their existence.

For Naruto, though, the Uchiha's impact would forever be felt, whether he wanted it to or not. He had pushed him, forced him to excel, helped him to see inside himself, then even deeper. He gazed into the flames, trying to assimilate Tsunade's words, when he felt a hand close on his shoulder. He looked up and saw it was that of Gaara, the Kazekage of Sunagakure. Flanking him were his siblings, Temari and Kankuro.

"Gaara," Naruto said in surprise, not having anticipated their arrival.

Gaara did not make eye contact but gazed at the flames. "He was a strong shinobi. Do not let his death be in vain, Uzumaki Naruto."

He clenched his fists. "What am I supposed to do?"

His pale eyes met the blonde's. "Do not wallow in the past, like he did. Pick yourself up and move forward." He turned and walked away with his siblings. "Do what Sasuke could not."

Naruto watched their backs minimize with distance. Gaara, too, had been hindered by his own discordant past, letting it dictate his life; only after his fight with Naruto did he reassess his behavior and purpose, and with resolve emerged from that lonely hole and became Kazekage.

Bolstering himself with brittle strength, he rose from his chair, followed by Sakura, Shikamaru, Neji, and Tsunade. "C'mon, guys. Let's move forward and never look back. That's where the future is."

The others nodded in agreement. One by one, they placed their hands on Naruto's shoulder, and they left their past behind by exiting the service, vowing to somehow endure. As they departed, Naruto stopped before the table and deposited the two flowers, smiling at the pair of images, before turning to Tsunade. He had something imperative to ask her.

.


.

Kisame watched the crimson sunset settle over both sky and land like gossamer. He knew an approaching storm was responsible for the glorious display – perhaps the disturbance was south in Hi no Kuni.

He sat on the sandstone precipice with Itachi's note clutched firmly in his grasp. It had been over a week since Itachi set out, and the only communication received was the note, which at first was a small account of his journey to Konoha and his time in the teahouse, but then started going in Itachi's past regrets. Madara had not seen the letter and was furious about the younger's absence, as Itachi and Kisame had yet still to acquire the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki.

Kisame, however, knew better. Itachi normally notified the other members as to where he traveled, seeing that he was meticulous when it came to following procedure, no doubt due to his regimented ANBU training. On top of that, he hadn't asked Kisame to accompany him on whatever task he intended to fulfill. They had always stuck together, their bonds strengthening when he saved him from Orochimaru's lecherous grasp. For Itachi to abandon the swordsman like that… it could only mean he had had one goal consuming his mind that afternoon ten days earlier.

And now that he had not returned, Kisame knew, indubitably, he'd found it.

During the week of Itachi's abandonment, Kisame learned that the rumors pertaining to Sasuke murdering Orochimaru were accurate, and chances were Itachi speculated it long before the news was verifiable. Hindsight wise, it was quite transparent now whom Itachi had hoped to find that day… who he had hoped would deliver the killing blow that would end his dejected life.

Moreover, there was the most damning piece of evidence: word that Sasuke and his cousin Tsuku were found dead in Hi no Kuni's vast forest. Kisame might have believed it had it not been marred with inconsistencies… Itachi didn't have a cousin by that name. Furthermore, he had killed all of his family members with the exception of his little brother, for the Uchiha only lived in Konoha, nowhere else.

He watched the sun dip behind the mountains, and the air was plunged into instant coolness. "As long as you're happy, Itachi, I'm happy," he smiled somberly, watching birds soaring through the sky. He was a product of the notorious Blood Mist village and had long learned to barricade his emotions. And yet, knowing he and Itachi would never walk side by side again, something excruciating tugged at his heart that caused his eyes to burn. He stood, grabbed Samehada and quietly walked back to the Akatsuki hideout, which, he was aware, would feel a little colder… now that his friend had at last realized his wish of eight years and was at long last where he belonged:

at peace with his brother.

.


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I mentioned the kimono panels for a very important reason. On living persons, kimono (or similar garments) are worn with the left panel overlapping the right – it's opposite for a dressed corpse. Some Asian-inspired shirts sold in major stores nowadays have the right panel over the left; this is a morbid error and not lucky to wear.

The epilogue is next.