The Atrophy and Redemption of Uchiha Sasuke

Chapter Twelve: Captive

High noon had already been upon and left the village when Sakura spotted the first mouse on her way back to the gate.

Preoccupied with organizing her new trove of herbs and trying not bump into anyone, she failed to notice the significance of the mouse's striking similarity to the one that had run over her foot in the forest just a few miles outside the village.

When she saw two more mice scurry in black and white flashes along the wall where she stood by the gate waiting for Sasuke, it clicked. And she remembered in an instant where she had seen such mice before.

That doesn't make any sense. She bit her lip and sought the exiting crowd for any sign of Sasuke. Not this far from home.

Despite her reasonable doubts, she knew they must be his mice, creatures brought to life by the unique jutsu of her other raven-haired teammate. The speed of the ink animals was incredible but Sakura had managed to differentiate between them and their real counterparts, although she had only seen the mice a few times while on missions with her team. So, she resolved that he in fact must be here.

But where was he?

When dusk began drawing nearer and nearer and the green-eyed kunoichi had been standing at the gate alone for several moments to many, she knew something was wrong. At least fifteen minutes had elapsed while the busy crowd rushed around her; the blazing, late-afternoon sun was racing downwards towards the horizon, and Sasuke still was not there. They really needed to leave before sunset.

Sakura groaned. A few people standing within hearing distance cast her curious looks but she ignored them. She turned and retraced her steps back to the first shop she and Sasuke had visited, almost tripping over a discarded vending basket sitting just in front of the doorway, the same doorway of the restaurant that her kind stranger had disappeared into; briefly, she considered going inside to ask him for help navigating the city, but instantly discarded the idea, remembering the vicious interaction that had occurred between the man and Sasuke.

With that thought, her rapidly increasing pace became a hastened run. Her mind was in far too much disarray for her to think strangely of the abandoned basket.

Various roads leading away from the main marketplace blurred passed her as she sped towards the path where she had last seen Sasuke. She stopped only once to ask a dango vendor as to the whereabouts of the weaponry district, to which the woman accidently burned her hands with the steaming rice flour and responded reluctantly with nervously shifting eyes, coy voice stuttering slightly over the directions.

One hundred paces, weave into the path behind the first inn you see. One hundred paces . . .

She repeated the mantra over and over again in her head until the sight of a grand, pristine tea inn forced her to cross to the other side of the road and make her way to the described back road that converged into a patchwork of makeshift tents and practically vacant stands. A sudden breeze inflated the underside of the billowing tarps overhead, unleashing dust to rain down.

Emerald eyes blinked, unbothered.

The pinkette rushed forward, panic rejuvenated by the eerie silence, until she found Sasuke at the end of the weaponry district. Her speed increased once her suspicions were confirmed—Sai was beside him, looking quite horrible.

"Sakura!" he exclaimed. He was leaning against a post, but instantly moved forwards upon seeing her, clutching at the left side of his ribcage as he came to stand beside Sasuke.

A dark heap resembling a body occupied the ground before them.

Panting, Sakura also sprinted to Sasuke's side, barely managing to skid to a dusty stop in the dirt. Her dark-haired teammates looked down at the lifeless body sprawled on the ground between them—one concerned, the other, seething in silence beside him. She followed the direction of their gazes until her own eyes fell upon the dead man's face. She gasped breathlessly. A pale hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Oh . . . Kami-sama . . ."

The noises expected of Konohagakure wildlife were not even enough to hide the muted sound of nin boots across soil as a select group of elite shinobi treaded carefully on the hidden road. Callused hands clasped securely around thick bamboo slats that extended from each corner of the lavish canopy cart currently transporting the remainder of Konoha's revered council through stretches and stretches of addling foliage. The shinobi uttered no complaints of the weight that had been bearing down on their shoulders for many silent hours.

Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura spoke very little.

The forest remained absolutely still around them, nearly driving the two to distraction with the unreasonable temptation to push aside the window flaps, if only to ensure that their ANBU escorts were still on guard outside. Aside from the four ANBU carrying the cart, another small group followed the rest of the traveling company, eerily silent, through the thick canopy of trees. Only a few remained who were still loyal to the deceased Danzo and his cause—less than fifty shinobi of the ROOT foundation.

Homura's frailty was practically drowning in the rich, silken swath of his robes. A nervous tick he had never conquered in his old age, the tapping of his fingers upon a bamboo slat on the side of the cart belied his growing fear: that their snippy drunk of a Hokage was slowly discovering their intentions.

He stilled his fingers by enclosing them into a fist.

No. That was not possible; he and his colleagues had taken utmost care in veiling their activities as merely the conduct of long-retired shinobi with far too much idle time to spare.

No amount of threats would be successful in thwarting their plans. Nothing would intimidate them. Not fear of the last Uchiha's escape from Fujita's prison, nor the cryptic disappearance of Lord Danzo's papers from the confines of Homura's heavily-guarded residence.

The lush forests of Fire Country slowed in his vision, signaling to the old man that they had finally arrived after nearly an entire day of painstakingly cautious travel. He stepped down from the cart; his bones creaked most tauntingly. Gritting his teeth, Homura glared at nothing in the trees, for directing his ire at nothing was far better than redirecting it at himself.

An ANBU soldier moved away from the cart and stood still before the forest. His hands blurred in a swift series of hand signs and the stuttered image of a fading genjutsu swallowed up most of the land, revealing a dilapidated building small in size but repaired in several areas to keep it habitable. The two elders entered the dark structure, flanked closely by their guards.

Unbeknownst to them all, however, a single nondescript tree in the forest stirred unnaturally to life.

The bark began retracting then expanding. Discolored in various shades of nature's common and tarnished browns, a growing mass rose up and out from the surface of the tree trunk to reveal the stalwart figure of a man. A cat mask shielded his face. The red lines creating the animal's face were as a bloody crimson against the otherwise colorless backdrop of the sturdy material. Dull metal pieces encased the sides of the man's jaw, the entire facial ensemble allowing only intimidating almond eyes to peer through the trees as the massive all-encompassing genjutsu aligned once again, causing the old structure to seemingly fizzle out of existence altogether. The reconnaissance ANBU moved stealthily through the foliage until he found a high branch to serve as a sturdy enough perch on which to further survey the sight just entered into by the elders.

The silence of the elite jounin's surroundings was entirely disconcerting, as if the mere aura of this area was enough to discourage the presence of typical wildlife. Nary a snap nor a chirp could be heard above the deafening silence—

"Ne, ne, Scary-taichou! Did you come all the way out here to take a nap too?"

"Gah!"

Yamato jumped high in the air and rammed his skull on the tree limb above him, producing quite the painful crack. The sudden jostling knocked leaves free from their holding and they fluttered precariously down, nearly succeeding in bringing the wood-user's consciousness with them.

"Naruto!" the ANBU hissed.

An orange-clad leg poked its way through the greenery in response, dangling down from higher up in the tree, and was followed by a jovial face full of smiling azure eyes, whiskers, and the widest of grins.

Sheepish, Naruto scratched at his head and whispered back, "Heh. Sorry, Yamato-taichou."

Yamato scrambled up to his charge's perch, tugging on the ankle of the future Hokage until he was able to secure a grip on the young man's arm, and hastening back to Konoha in an unerring beeline. He did not bother to relinquish his grip and surged through the trees from branch to branch, ignoring the Kyuubi container's efforts to get free and the frequent squeals of "Let go of my ear, taichou — le'mme go!"

If the Godaime found out about this . . .

Shaking the thought from his mind, dumbfounded and overwhelmed, Yamato could only sigh and continue back towards the village with utmost caution, only slightly placated by the knowledge that his future Hokage at least had the stealth to creep up on him so successfully.

By the time the gates of Konoha were visible in the distance, half of the day had already been lost, and Yamato was even more exceedingly thankful for Naruto's good humor, lest the jinchuuriki send him plummeting with a well-aimed Rasengan.

But no amount of relief could sustain Yamato's shock upon reaching the summit of Hokage Mountain.

For Hatake Kakashi was in a very, very bad mood.

Naruto's bottom lip stuck out as his blonde head ducked down in guilt, "Aw, Kaka-sensei, I couldn't take all those meetings and that document talk anymore. Not when there's so much going on! Baa-chan says we're going to meet with the daimyo and talk about overturning the council, and I needed to rest. So many clauses, too many laws . . ."

Glowering silently, the Copy-nin crossed his arms across his chest. "So," his voice was icy and both Naruto and Yamato had to listen closely to hear every word, "you ran nearly one day's travel outside the village . . . to sleep?"

A nod.

". . . You were going to say in Konohagakure?"

Another nod.

Kakashi's eye narrowed in distinct suspicion, "You weren't going to look for your teammates?"

Naruto shook his head vigorously, then he faltered and looked suddenly sheepish, "Well . . . it might have crossed my mind once or . . . maybe eight times—but I promised, didn't I?"

Kakashi nodded and turned to face Yamato grimly, dark eye still darting back to his student without warning.

Without his superior having to ask, Yamato began to report his findings, "You were right, sempai; they're hiding it with a high-level genjutsu."

"Hm," Kakashi murmured. He rubbed speculatively at this chin through his mask. His mood had already begun to lighten considerably, "they think they're being real careful, eh, Tenzou?"

"Homura is especially jumpy. I suspect he must know that someone of consequence has stolen his scrolls. They left during the night and took several detours to avoid being followed."

Creases formed at the corners of Kakashi's smiling eye, "It's very lucky then, that you put those special seeds of yours in their afternoon rice, hm? So, they're really starting to squirm . . ."

The look on the Copy-ninja's face made Naruto distinctly uncomfortable. He was asking questions to himself and being overly jovial, a sure sign that the genius workings of his mind were already sifting through the details of a particularly devious plan. Naruto sure felt sorry for whoever was going to be on the receiving end of all that mind-power that used to be his sensei.

Yamato was nodding with unnecessary enthusiasm, basking in his fellow jounin's praise, "Yes. They must have had eight, maybe twelve ROOT AN—"

"Ten. There were ten, Scary-taichou, not twelve.—erm . . . ANBU, that is."

Surprised, both jounin turned to face their future leader. Kakashi cleared his throat, "And exactly how long were you there, Naruto?"

The blonde grinned widely and crossed his arms behind his head in a show of sheepish, evasive pride, "Long enough to see those geezers and that old watch tower. What's inside it, huh, sensei?"

Shaking his head slightly, the Copy-nin ignored his student's inquisitiveness in favor of casting a worried, one-eyed glance to the horizon, "Sai was supposed to return yesterday."

Whether he was purposely changing the subject or not, all were worried by the prospect that the young ANBU soldier had encountered trouble. Yamato's eager face turned suddenly grim.

Even Naruto's vibrant eyes dimmed. "They're all out there, aren't they?" he rasped to no one in particular. His chin seemed to tremble—for several reasons, perhaps—with anger and frustration and a bitterness that would soon fade like morning vapor, if for no other reason at all than that it was simply in his nature.

"Why am I here in the village when they . . . they—"

"Naruto," the voice of the man who was both his sensei and his friend echoed sternly around the mountain summit, and that was the end of it.

Tsunade and Kakashi had already lectured Naruto quite thoroughly on the fact that finding Sasuke and bringing him back to the village by force would only earn him a lethal dose of Sasuke's rage, as well as risking the chance that the council would secretly arrange for the last Uchiha to be captured once again. And there was no way in hell Naruto was going to put Sasuke's life on the line. Kakashi and Tsunade were right, though he hated to admit it; the best way he could help his precious people right now was to become Hokage and take the power that came with the title; he would then have sway over the other four shinobi nations that Tsunade never did. The war, alongside the devastating invasion of Pein, had made him a hero of the most respectable qualities in the eyes of all the nations, and he could—would—help ensure that no further injustice would be brought upon Sasuke and others like him.

And he would not allow the elders to make their own attempts through acts of secrecy and sabotage. That was the path Danzo and his subordinates had taken, doing nothing to diffuse unrest forged in the fire-pits of grudges and injustice. And now an entire clan was wiped out. All of them, dead and buried in the name of the village.

All but one.

No. Naruto would not allow the senseless sacrifice and use of scapegoats to go on any longer. After all, not every generation would be blessed with an Uchiha Itachi.

Naruto saw Sharingan eyes forged in the wisdom of premature stress lines. He saw the warm blue eyes of his own father, and he could clearly envision the eyes of even his deceased mentor, could hear the kind, gruff words of encouragement as clearly as if the Toad Sage was standing before him right now.

He sent a silent wish to Sasuke, Sai, and Sakura to stay safe, and swallowed in resignation. His eyes became downturned to his own toes peeking out from black nin boots. It had taken him several years to learn how to manage his emotions in a manner expected of any ruler, of a Kage.

And once he reined them in, Naruto remembered what was important; he had promised Baa-chan and Kaka-sensei that he would not go charging off after his teammates. Because he had a duty to his village and its people. Because the war had made the Godaime weary and ill. And because Sasuke was reported to be alive and, well, in any case, Sakura-chan was with him. That alone was enough to calm him slightly, although he did miss her . . . missed them both more than anything.

The Kyuubi jinchuuriki allowed a bright grin to grace his face once again, satisfied with these pleasant thoughts.

"Yeah. . . . They're alright, 'ttebayo. Sakura-chan, Sai, Teme—they're enough to bring any enemy hell!"

Kakashi's eye creased, "Agreed, Naruto. Now, I believe you have a meeting with Tsunade-sama and the Fire Daimyo's representatives that you're about six hours late to." As can be expected, he was met by a chorus of unhappy grumbles, but continued to smile his hidden smile until his student moved to obey him.

Yamato watched until Naruto was far enough down the mountain trail to be out of hearing distance, even with the assistance of chakra. He knelt instantly, hands forming into his signature seals. Kakashi also sunk to one knee. His eye watched carefully as the earth revealed a miniature wooden model formed according to his subordinate's memory.

"Ah, I know this place."

"You do?" Yamato's fingers blurred and the small model of the disguised building sunk back into the ground, not leaving behind a single trace of disturbance in the soil.

Kakashi nodded, "A watch tower used during the Second and Third Shinobi Wars," his eye glazed over as his mind drifted back, somewhere unknown to others and into the past. "It was never repaired afterwards and has long been deemed unfit for occupation. Apparently . . ." scratching at the back of his neck, he stood and squinted at the setting sun. Its rays were bright, blindingly so, and cloaked the village in a deceivingly peaceful mural of consistency, "this is no longer true."

Slick metal warmed from his body heat slid from the skin of Sasuke's callused palm, the kunai strangely remaining unused, and dropped into the open pouch strapped at his thigh. His other hand darted out to catch Sai around the arm before the pale ANBU could collapse to his knees in pain.

Sasuke's face remained grim. The red faded from his eyes, yet they did not shift from the lifeless body lying one with the dirt, not even to acknowledge his pink-haired companion as she struggled to catch her breath and formulate the words stunted on her tongue, struggling to comprehend the truly horrific sight of the dead man's face. He allowed Sai to do the speaking.

Though his injuries impacted his own breathing, he managed to speak to his female teammate in soft, inquisitive tones, "He . . . he just dropped dead, Sakura. Just . . . just out of nowhere." His breathing was so disrupted by his injuries that he could not even attempt to comfort her with his usual forced smile.

Bewildered, the kunoichi crouched down with caution; she did not bother to touch the corpse for safety reasons—she trusted Sai's judgment that the disfigured man was already dead—and reached out instead with tentatively formed tendrils of chakra. The delicate ropes of her life energy, in a matter of mere seconds, told the medic all she needed to know: no heartbeat, no breathing, no brain activity, no chakra. No life.

"What . . ." Sakura swallowed, no longer able to look at the man's mangled face, "what killed him?" She was met with only silence and a blank stare from Sai, who looked positively ready to fall on his face, were it not for the Uchiha's supporting grip on his upper arm.

There was no answer, and nobody spoke for a long time. When someone finally broke the silence, it was Sasuke, the hoarse whisper startling his two comrades.

"I cracked his mask . . ."

Sakura turned to look at him expectantly. Her wide verdant eyes urged him to continue, but he said nothing else. The kunoichi, accepting his silence, transitioned her attention from her teammates to the ground. Sure enough, the sight reaffirmed Sasuke's words.

Pieces of what appeared to be shattered porcelain littered the ground around the body, the remainders indeed being reminiscent of a mask, some kind of mask similar to those worn by ANBU. She swallowed at the implications, still overwhelmed and confused.

Sakura risked another brief glance at the flesh wounds covering most of the body's head. Jagged lines that almost appeared to be created by a sharp weapon extended outward from the dead shinobi's forehead and visage, creating a turgid map of swollen gashes that reached over his temples and even down passed the ears and over the neck. The skin surrounding the wounds was red and distended, the surrounding epidermis appearing to be almost infected in a sickening char. The pink-haired medic had lived through a war and had thus seen and healed many a crippling and vicious wound, but such a sight created intense nausea even in her stomach. Not because of its disfiguring nature, but because of the idea alone that someone or something had caused this man to simply sink to the ground dead.

But she had to make sure.

Lips still pressed angrily into a firm line, the Missing-nin watched his teammate stand from her crouch and turn nervously to face him. "Sasuke-kun?" she motioned with her hand to the injuries marring the corpse, "You didn't . . ."

Sasuke shook his head once. She sagged in relief.

Sai had already hinted that neither he nor the Uchiha had landed any significant blows on their opponent, and there had been no blood visible on Sasuke's kunai. And Sakura trusted Sasuke—trusted him deeply, completely, and with her own life—but it calmed her spirit and mind to get the confirmation from him directly. Because all she could see was the near savage way he had disposed of the wind-user that had almost brought her life to a swift end back at the brothel in Takigakure.

"Then what—what killed him?" Sakura rasped. Her throat contracted harshly in a vain attempt at clearing away the ache of shock within.

Sai hesitated then looked like he was about to say something, but Sasuke tightened his grip and effectively silenced him. At least at the moment. Sasuke knew she would pull the truth from the ex-ROOT member eventually, but he was certainly not in the mood to deal with her annoying questions now.

"Fine," she snapped curtly, eyes narrowing in his direction as she settled her weight back down on her haunches once again, "I'll just take a sample then, an—"

The corpse suddenly burst into flames before Sakura could form a chakra scalpel with which to harvest a tissue sample, reducing the fallen shinobi's remains to ash and bone by the time the nimble kunoichi managed to leap away from the flaming body along with her teammates.

Before they could stop and regroup, a stifling blaze of heat charged through one of the now open doorways and towards the poleaxed trio. Sakura threw herself behind a pile of busted crates and what may have been rutabagas at one point, leaving behind little but a blur of color in her wake. Her nostrils flared at the stench of rotting vegetable matter. A wall of swirling flame blocked her view of the two males and their attacker, who seemed to have been intent on using the katon jutsu for that very purpose: to separate her from her teammates.

Superficial relief filled her chest at the assurance that the rickety barrier momentarily shielding her from the enemy would not be reduced to cinders, until it was promptly discarded and replaced with fear and the instinctive rush of adrenaline that always filled her veins whenever her sharp ears detected the familiar trills of metal against metal. Sakura bit into her lip, searching along the barricade of fire for any weak spot or entry point in the burning wall. She fought to ignore the return of familiar but unwelcome pain between her shoulder blades.

"Shit," the strained uttering left her lips as she blinked her eyes against the fumes of dust and smoke thrown into the air by the attack.

The same thick plumes of pesky debris forced Sasuke to choke down a cough on the other side of the fires reaching well above the rooftops, yet not high enough to alarm the busiest part of the village, the buildings of which were significantly larger and made invisible the spasmodic emergence of the attack. At least they would not have to worry about being accosted by the local authorities.

The Uchiha brought a sleeve up to cover his mouth before navigating his way through the smoke, bloodline rotating wildly in his eyes. Practically oblivious to the heat, he moved swiftly through the constant onslaught of flames.

Whoever was wielding this jutsu was all too eager to snuff them out completely. A bounty hunter, perhaps. Even one of Fujita's Hunter-nin, although the Missing-nin knew that the prison warden sending his men this far out of Iwa was highly unlikely; Fujita was much too egotistical and paranoid to sacrifice any more of his personal guards than necessary, and was probably waiting anxiously for the Uchiha's own reputation to become his ultimate end. Especially after the utter mess Sasuke left of the last team of Fujita's men in the forests of Rock Country.

Sasuke would have felt the inclination to smile at his enemy's foolishness—he was obviously sacrificing quality in performing the katon jutsu in favor of quantity—had it not been for the aggravating awareness digging into the back of his mind, the knowledge that Sakura was safe somewhere on the other side of the flames, but her teammate was no longer following behind his dodging form. Instead, the other male's chakra flickered weakly somewhere ahead of him, like a faint spurt of fire losing oxygen and fizzling down without warning to mere embers.

Sasuke's red eyes narrowed in concentration; the ex-ANBU's chakra signature was located near to the source of the fire attacks. Much to near.

Somersaulting with ease over a torrent of burning flame spiraling towards him, Sasuke's feet landed in the loosened dust. He, in all honesty, cared very little for Sai's fate; however, there was little doubt as to what Sakura's response to Sai getting hurt would be.

The Uchiha had a plan to pursue. And he had very little patience for her annoying behavior as it was.

Spinning eyes roved endlessly over the surroundings and abruptly halted altogether once they spotted a rather gaping weak point in the midst of the enemy's center of attack. The doujutsu wielder hurled himself towards the opening, taking full advantage of the attacker's lapse in stamina.

Once another attack, this one more mediocre, came hurtling towards the Missing-nin, it became evident that the startled enemy had seen the Uchiha getting passed his defenses and was now panicking. Dust rose in vaporous clouds as Sasuke shifted his weight entirely and ducked beneath the attack, only to hurl his body again to the right to avoid a blanket of oncoming shuriken.

Then the foray ceased altogether.

This opponent was not exactly challenging for the rogue Uchiha, especially considering his freshly healed state, but still he wished for the familiar weight of his Kusanagi against his gloved palm, the power-charged hum of electricity running in a steady current up and down the metal blade as the chirping of a thousand birds shrilly filled his ears all the while, the strength of the specialized jutsu delighting him with inner pangs of a rather sick elation.

Sasuke landed in a comfortable, somehow distinctly arrogant crouch just outside a large pile of splintered debris where a rundown shop entrance no longer existed. Silence filled the ramshackle district. Flecks of dust settled on Sasuke's eyelashes as it began to flutter all around, revealing two dark figures; one appeared to be panting and growing increasingly tense with each second passing, the other no more than a motionless figure collapsed vulnerable in the dirt. The Uchiha huffed in unrestrained annoyance upon recognizing the still heap.

The dust cleared further, revealing all. Sasuke's scowl became a disgusted sneer, "Tch."

Startled, the adversary shifted quickly and knelt down beside Sai's unconscious body. Fingers fisted into the young man's short raven hair, yanking his head back to fit a sharp blade just under his raised chin.

Satisfied that the Uchiha had stopped advancing, the attacker moved to his feet. A quiet groan escaped Sai as he was roughly hoisted upwards, only to fall unconscious once again. A crimson line formed along his white skin.

Sasuke scoffed, "This is your best resort of self-defense?" His words were scathing, bleeding with taunt and insult. Truly, this coward was an utter fool if he believed holding the young man captive would serve to deter him from killing the offender who dared such a blatant attack on him and . . . and—

Seething, the Uchiha grit his teeth and summoned his largest fūma shuriken, blood searing with adrenaline at the cool metal weighing down his hand once the glistening weapon appeared. Bloodlust tinged the edges of his vision as he watched the enemy grow nervous and back up slightly, pulling his hostage along with each precarious step.

Every muscle and tendon in Sasuke's lithe body was drawn taught as a bowstring. His eyes devoured the scene before him with an angry hunger begging the enemy to make his move, to justify the release of his stance's tension, a release that would result inevitably in death. He would be the reaper to bring vengeance. And so angry was he, so angry that he failed to realize that he had subconsciously taken up the mantle of revenge once again.

Sasuke moved to close the distance between them, weapon brandished menacingly, when an unexpected tremor shifted the earth beneath his feet. Everyone's gaze turned immediately to the obstruction of fire, although they still remained well-focused upon each other's movements with the use of their peripherals. Abruptly, the shaking ceased, just as a formidable piece of dislodged earth and rock came soaring through the flames, parting the burning defense jutsu and protecting the disgruntled kunoichi clinging atop from becoming burned.

Dispensing dust and clumps of dried dirt as it fell, the mass of earth plummeted to the ground. Sakura jumped down and cleared the dust from around her face with angry shakes of her head.

Sasuke vaguely observed the rosette strands of her hair wisping wildly about her, almost ethereal beneath the dying light of the descending sun; he remembered faintly that it was considerably longer than the last time he had seen her before the war.

The impending battle awaiting them negated the bitter taste of guilt in his mouth until he convinced himself he had not felt it at all. And Sasuke turned his back to her, Sharingan focusing alone upon the enemy. Judging from the dismayed gasp behind him, Sakura had followed his gaze and now saw who their attacker was. Her voice emerged breathy and light with shock.

". . . Tomoya?"

The young man who at first sight appeared to be only an honest rice peddler allowed his eyes to soften. "I'm sorry about this, green-eyes," the words only succeeded in raising a slick, bile-like sensation up into her throat as Tomoya pressed the blade closer in to Sai's neck, "but I'm only following orders. It's really a shame you have to associate yourself with him." He disparaged Sasuke with a glance, earning himself an angry glare from the Uchiha.

Rage continued to bubble inside Sasuke's veins; their attacker's taunting words were doing little to calm the violent spike that had occurred in his temper upon being ambushed twice in the same afternoon. This Tomoya and the other culprit, whose body was no more, might as well have waged personal war on the Missing-nin.

Not even the soothing voice of Sakura did much to calm him.

"Sasuke-kun . . ." she murmured warily, noting the distinct chill that manifested from his tense frame immediately. Her verdant gaze shifted worriedly between the enemy and her teammate, who never faltered from his combat stance, fingers of one hand flexing lightly over the inner grip of his fūma shuriken.

Although she was still very much confused, Sakura forced the bewildered expression to drop from her face. Arrant panic took its place.

Without warning, Sasuke began to approach with alarming speed. He moved with measured steps devoid of all noise. A brief look of fear crossed Tomoya's features until he remembered the hostage at his blade; he saw the kunoichi move closer as well, out of the corner of his vision, and shifted his weapon to the side of his captive's throat, wrist pressing against his esophagus until a gurgling sound arose and his lungs unconsciously grasped for any air within reach.

Stunned by the noise, Sakura ceased all movement and became deathly still, "Sai . . ."

But Sasuke did not. There was no faltering in his steady footsteps, only a homicidal glimmer in his red eyes that promised violence and immediate retribution, and had Sakura vying desperately for her mind to somehow bring everything to a standstill without getting them all killed. Had Sasuke taken his eyes once from his chosen target, he would have seen his traveling companion's teeth worrying painfully at her lip—her fingers, long and slender from recent malnourishment, twitching reflexively to a clump of senbon beneath her oversized black shirt, then withdrawing once her emerald stare returned to behold the unexpected stranger practically strangling her dear friend while threatening to cut him open, ear to ear.

Instead, enraged, the Uchiha maintained his approach—stalking, rather—and drew back the arm holding his weapon, completely intending to drive its large metal arms into the man's chest cavity. No matter what barrier he had to pass though.

Visions of the now perished man who had beaten Sai until his pale skin was painted in bruised hues filled his head. The gray mask cracking and falling into the dirt to reveal . . . to reveal—

No. No. They would not get away with this.

His name was uttered behind him again. Then once more, the feminine voice laced with panic and a growing dread, but all remained unheard. They were hunting him down like a mad dog begging to be put out of its misery, slandering his name—and even worse, the name of his Aniki. He did not give a damn who they were, about the price on his head, or who the enemy's superiors were. He was a dead man. Regardless of whom he was cowering behind.

The fading last of the day's sunlight reflected off the surface of the fūma shuriken, dancing pleasantly over the dirt —then rapidly shooting up and across crazed crimson irises as Sasuke began to snap his arm forward—

"No, Sasuke!"

The air left his lungs and his muscles un-tensed if only for one fractional movement. And finally, he turned his head briefly to glare at the medic for her interruption, only to find her with her hand clasped over her mouth in horror. Tears of fear had made a crystalline canvas of her eyes, blurring the magnificent irises to pools of green begging him to just stop and to please, please realize that he had almost murdered one of her closest friends in the world just to kill Tomoya, to strike out in blind anger against all who had ever wronged him, wronged Itachi—even if by mere association alone. Sasuke's arm, still braced to throw, went limp and fell to his side; he changed his mind even before he saw her chapped lips even begin to form the words.

"Don't, Sasuke. Please don't," her voice cracked with frightened tears at the realization that she had come so unbearably close to losing a loved one. And Sasuke as well, for that matter.

Unaware that he had already decided not to attack for the sake of her unconscious teammate's safety, she still stared in fear at his grip on the shuriken, as if he would raise his arm again at any instant, "Please, Sasuke. Sasuke, he's my teammate. You'll hurt him this way—Tomoya's life isn't worth his. Please listen to me."

But he already had.

A/N:

Sorry for the wait, again! I would have had this chapter finished much sooner, but I actually had to do quite a bit of research for this and many of the following chapters.

It's been such a long time, so I'm hoping you enjoyed reading it. What did you think of Tomoya? To be perfectly honest, this had been my intention for his character from the beginning, but I was reluctant to go through with it because I had grown quite fond of him last chapter.

Well, for this one, my main objective was to show where Sasuke's heart still lies and hopefully shed more light on the elders' activities. The identity of the dead masked man and the mystery surrounding his death that has Sasuke so crazy-eyed will be resolved next chapter, so it's nothing to fret about.

Thank you for reading and please, do review!