A pale hand ran through a messy head of raven hair. Dark circles bruised the underlines of his drooping eyes as the Uchiha tugged yet another book towards himself.
His chakra was gone, and his strength to stay awake was fading rapidly. Right after the exam, instead of following the dobe's suggestion to get some rest, he had fled the arena and headed straight towards the library. With every breath he took, his chest hurt.
In his scramble to leave, Sasuke didn't even visit the hospital to get treatment for his broken ribs, aching under a wrinkled shirt he had changed at a last minute thought so he didn't startle the librarian by being covered in blood.
Every inch of the library table he had claimed in the corner was stacked with heavy books. If one looked close enough, they would be able to tell that the weakly bound, yellow leafed books were all related to the Mist.
Every now and then, Sasuke would mark a page by turning the corner, his eyes slowly skimming between the lines.
There had to be something. Anything.
The pages made crumpled sighs as they turned, and his breathing was getting slower as his mind fell half fell asleep. But despite this, he read on.
Ever since that Hinata said the name of the one person he wanted dead, the part of the Uchiha's mind that's ambition was to avenge his clan went insane. Before, he simply needed information on her because of his auspiciousness and mere curiosity.
Now he needed it.
The fact that she might have a connection to his brother, that he was right about her being not just any stranger, not a coincidence to end up in Konoha of all villages…
Sasuke's elbows, originally propping him up, were now weakening as the boy's weight sank into sleep. No, there was no time to res-
His bangs fell over his closing eyes as his forehead leaned against his folded, muscled arms, face planted in an open book.
The washed white walls of the hospital room looked gray as the shades were drawn over the window a figure had been previously staring out of.
The figure didn't turn around, simply gazing at the beige curtains, the faint humming of machines in the background.
"What should we do about her?"
The deep voice behind him rang in the room, overpowering the IV.
What were they to do?
They couldn't kick her out… this was too good of an opportunity to pass. He was well aware of who the object of their dilemma really was, the orange book in the hands of the figure behind him confirming it.
Yes, they would have to let her stay. They would play along with the Akatsuki's ploy.
Maybe the secrets of the underground organization would be revealed in the process, and the plan would fail, and everything would get better.
He was always the optimistic type.
"We do nothing. Let her stay, and let her carry on her mission. In the end, we might be able to influence her, we might be able to get a hold over them. In the end, it'll be determined by her who will be standing."
The figure behind him stirred, revealing his surprise at the well thought out answer. Maybe he did grow up after all…
Finally, after that last statement, he turned away from the closed window and headed out the door, his companion trailing his footsteps.
He didn't reveal his real reason for letting her stay, to give a certain avenger to his shot at a certain Akatsuki.
And for a little girl to reunite with her village after eleven years.
A Konoha villager would always be a Konoha villager. No matter what. That was what he believed, that was his ninja way of loyalty.
As he walked out of the door, too absorbed in his thoughts, he failed to notice a thin folded sheet flutter from a pocket of his robes, landing just inside as the door clicked shut.
Both of them, despite being skilled shinobi, failed to realise that the occupant of the hospital room had regained consciousness and was now currently swinging his legs quietly off the bed, making his way to the door.
The patient gently picked up the paper, unfolding it, only to drop it once again with a horrified gasp.
The sheet was a copy from a Bingo Book, and the title read S-Class Criminals.
In the center was the photo of a six year old fair girl, dark bangs falling into her eyes. Eyes too cold and emotionless for a six year old. Eyes just like his own.
Hinata-sama…
Hinata sat on her low bed, the soles of her boots flat on the carpet. She looked down at her lap, in which her slender ivory fingers traced a porcelain feline mask.
The mask was covered in dark, blood-red markings, and had net inside to serve as almost invisible eye holes.
Her fingers traced the triangle markings over and over again, memorizing them lazily. At least she wouldn't have to worry with her hood as much anymore…
But she would wear the cape never-the-less. It was her marking, her sheath, that bound her to the Akatsuki.
Tucking the mask into her pillow case, Hinata lay down on her back, kicking off her boots. Then she stared at the ceiling, more exhausted than sleepy.
She was finally a villager. Once again.
It was too dark. Too light. What was it?
He was chained by invisible bounds, or maybe he was paralyzed. Maybe he forgot to move. Maybe…
Sasuke saw himself… or did he? Was that little boy even him? Was he ever so innocent? So human? Was he even in existence…
Or was he simply watching? Watching from both afar and close by, like a shadow. But at least shadows had a being attached to them.
Sasuke had nobody.
The world twisted in colours. Now it was too light and too dark. No longer too dark and too light.
There was a man, a familiar man. Years just older than himself. Wearing an absurd cloak with a high collar.
Blazing crimson eyes broke through the colours.
He saw bodies, corpses.
Stiff, cold, like leather dolls, lifeless.
Sasuke watched, helpless, as the little boy who was supposed to be himself reached towards one, only to disappear right before he could touch it.
Again, he reached out. Again, it disappeared. The most horrible, sick, gross, stomach-turning part was…
He couldn't see the faces.
They were faceless. As if somebody had shaved them off with an eraser.
He only saw the face of the man he had to kill. Not the ones that were killed. Not the ones he was going to avenge.
Colors jumbled. Too dark. Too light.
Itachi stood there, in reaching distance yet still too far to reach. Another unfamiliar face melded with Itachi's…
A cloaked face.
"Itachi-sensei…"
Sasuke awoke with a start, his pale cheeks imprinted with small pink that looked suspiciously like the writing in the book he had been sleeping on.
What was that? Was it really a dream, a nightmare?
Was it his imagination? Was it saying something?
Sasuke shook his head. Why was he so confused? Ever since that transfer came…
His mind was torn.
She was too confusing, brought up too many questions, too many memories. It made him need to find out who she was, for reasons unknown.
A girl should not be in his mind.
He was supposed to be an Uchiha, boastful and proud. Nobody mattered but himself, and his goals. He was an avenger.
This girl would pay for making him think about her, distracting him…
Sasuke had unconsciously skimmed the page before him as he was lost in his thoughts. Before he could complete his inner mind struggle, he came upon a curious passage.
The Seven Swordsmen of the Mist.
Bingo.
Sasuke, confidence fully returned, had a fresh new batch of books.
He read, or rather, absorbed. His suspicions were making more sense.
Kirigakure, Hidden Village of the Mist. It is a village known in training devices that involves a graduation where the genin must kill in order to initiate themselves.
Sasuke looked up for a second, his hand clenched. Killing innocent people… if Hinata was really from the Mist… Yet, there was a chance that she wasn't.
He released his balled fist and continued reading.
The seven greatest ninja in the village…
The list was long, as ninjas died and were replaced. But, as he skimmed down the list, he could not find anyone's name remotely similar to Hinata Ikustaka. How could that be? If she held enough power like this, she would surely be recruited a member of the group.
The Mist, like any other village, would not hold off boasting about their skilled ninja.
Especially with her skills with the sword, they seemed to be her specialty. But, she wasn't part of the group, meaning that she could not have been a ninja of the Mist…
He reread the list again, a tiny miniscule part hoping that she was part of the list. That she wasn't lying…
Two names stood out.
Momochi Zabuza.
Kisame Hoshigaki.
Zabuza, he had already met first-hand, and his blade style was rougher than Hinata's, more concentrated in power than speed as she was.
Kisame was part of the Akatsuki. She could not be associated with him.
But, somehow she knew Itachi.
It could be… no. Not possible.
But she had to have known some Mist ninja, her skills with the sword proved it.
Mist was a village that was known for swordsmanship. As Suna was known for puppets and fans. And so on.
Overall, Sasuke was more confident that Hinata was lying about her identity. It was definite. But the question remained: Why?
Now that he knew that one of his many suspicions were confirmed, Sasuke could concentrate on comparing her to other places. It seemed that the more he learned about her, the more questions sprung up.
And he would have to answer them himself, for what kind of Uchiha was he if he couldn't?
A weapon could easily become a part of an identity, easily become its individual identity.