The Sky
by Hic Iacet Mori
Chapter 18
Sasuke left Ichiraku in an enlightened frame of mind.
"... do you know that they're planning to make a yaoi version of the movie? I'm thinking of bringing Sakura with us, I'm sure she'd love it!
And the desire to kill Kakashi.
"Didn't take you for the uke, Sasuke."
That man could have simply explained that seme and uke had drastically different meanings to him and his perverted ilk—including those yaoi fan girls, a form of fan girls he hadn't known before to exist. But then again, that was giving him too much credit—this was Hatake Kakashi after all, unarguably one of the most ruthless shinobi of Konoha in the battlefield and especially out of it. Kakashi had to be an ass when he could get away with it lest he died from an influx of morality.
So perhaps, it was logical somewhere in his twisted soul to force the last Uchiha to endure two hours of lecture on the glories of yaoi from Sakura, who wouldn't stop blushing and getting all starry-eyed as she waxed poetic over her clearly not-so-secret obsession. A lot of the drivel she had explained—orated passionately over—were unnecessary as well, not to mention revoltingly flowery as Sasuke, a distinguished ANBU captain for seven years running, was fully aware of the existence of homosexual relationships and its activities. Sexual activities, to be more precise. Simply because, oh yes, he was part of the ANBU.
Sasuke almost grimaced, then inwardly winced. Better those than the horrible heat in his ears, he thought grudgingly. Sakura was rather graphic—
He had countless assassination missions in the past that required him to finish off a mark when he or she least expected it—unfortunately for him, this mostly occurred after the marks had sex. In some ways it was somewhat a concession—they would be dead in a moment after all. Let them have this final carnal hurrah. He could be generous too.
But with this, Sasuke had become a forced watcher of these intimate and often illicit moments, a reluctant voyeur to these unintentionally educational trysts. He had marks who preferred the opposite sex. Marks who preferred the same sex. Marks who thrived on both. Marks who enjoyed multiple partners. Then there were those obsessed with perfumed whores or addicted to nubile virgins. There were even some with imaginative lovers who could make Kakashi look like a virginal schoolboy, not that Sasuke was in anyway aware of the jounin's sexual life—mere thought alone made him want to punch someone's throat in. Even his own.
He frowned. And then, there were those who preferred children—marks who so sickened him that Sasuke made sure they die much more slowly, much more painfully. Those revolting marks had no business existing at all.
He also learned another thing: he wasn't very much interested in any form of sexual pursuit. He had sex on the rare times that even training couldn't soothe him, true, but that was just about it. There hadn't been any of the pleasure he had seen his marks derive from it, and Sasuke had simply classified sex as a normal human activity at par with soaking in a tub or taking a nap—needed once in a while but not entirely necessary to live. It wasn't even in the league of defecating, in his opinion. He wouldn't die if he missed out on sex.
Sex was also a messy affair. While killing in itself was a messy preoccupation, at least he only had himself to clean up at the end of the day. It also helped that a corpse had no expectations from him. Everyone else—even the geisha provided specifically for the ANBU who needed to de-stress and get in touch with humanity after a particularly grueling mission—expected a measure of affection after sexual intercourse. And while a few were admittedly physically arousing enough for one more round or two, once was enough for him—Sasuke much preferred sleep, anyway.
Experience showed, however, that while he believed sleep was the appropriate response post-coitus, women had something else in mind. Something involving unnecessary shows of affection. And the last time someone acted on it by cuddling with him as he slept, his reflex almost killed the naked woman by asphyxiation.
That's why a few ANBU chose to lie down with men, not counting the female members—a man understood the no-strings-attached way of life. However, Sasuke couldn't compel himself to sleep with another man. He just couldn't imagine it, it was too bizarre. He couldn't even find himself arousing—what else another man?
Sasuke knew he would need to have sex for procreation, true, but he would rather abstain from it completely rather than raise a child in a family that would never be enough for him. Growing up with a father who hardly took notice of him before his final days, Sasuke wanted to pamper his child with the love and attention he hadn't received. He knew he could never do it, though—not now, not ever, if he would always be looking for what wasn't there.
The sky—it ruined him.
If only he could understand, understand what he really wanted—then perhaps he could find that woman to be the mother of his children. Perhaps he could finally pass on the legacy of his name. Not the Sharingan, no—he'd make sure it never appeared in the next generation again. The mere thought of another of his blood experiencing what he and Itachi had gone through sickened him. But the Uchiha name must live on, at least, and for that he needed a wife.
These thoughts settled uncomfortably in his mind.
It somehow felt like—felt like he was betraying someone.
With a mental sigh at his thoughts, Sasuke glanced beside him, easily getting back in touch with reality. Beside him was Sakura, who had offered to accompany him to where she last left Naruto with Kakashi. Sasuke had silently accepted the offer—if ten years were any indication, it wasn't easy to find his best friend. Especially with the other's chakra still concealed completely.
That chakra...
His breath caught, his throat tightening. Naruto's chakra in the ANBU headquarters was powerful. So powerful it alerted all ANBU in its immediate vicinity, so powerful it made the hair on his nape rise in excitement. It was more than powerful, it was intoxicating, reminding him of the time he was trapped inside a wine cellar with barrels of wine emitting fumes from their unsealed covers. The lightness in his head, though, had been nothing compared to the daze he had felt at Naruto's chakra. Drunk with power had come into his mind, and Sasuke didn't mind being drunk off a power like that.
The thought of sparring with Naruto excited him so much. He had never felt this excited before. But—
Something's missing.
He inwardly frowned, his thoughts not even breaking the surface of his indifferent expression. Somehow, Naruto's chakra felt lacking—it was missing something he felt deep inside him was supposed to be there. But Hyuuga's expression hadn't changed at all, nor did the retard's—these people who knew and remembered Naruto hadn't felt anything out of the ordinary at all. But he couldn't just let go of this feeling—
I'd challenge him to a spar and get to the bottom of this, he decided. The spike of thrill that jolted up his spine almost broke his composure—could Sasuke be so excited over a planned spar that mere thought of it could cause tremors to rise out of him? Even the hands inside his pockets were beginning to shake—as if it was all they could do to finally mark that slim body with his fists, slide his fingers over that silky brown skin, feel that smooth, graceful slope of tan neck stretching to broad shoulders—
Shit.
As if sensing his sudden distress, Sakura glanced up at him.
"Sasuke-kun?"
He automatically grunted, not a hint of the despairing turn of his thoughts manifesting on his face. He had been successful at not thinking of such things about Naruto, so what was he doing failing in the one thing he was good at these past couple of days? He didn't want to think of Uzumaki Naruto that way. His mind was already too worked up at his missing memories, anything beyond was just insanity—he didn't want his body getting worked up—
Damn. Damn. Naruto was a man. Like him. Sasuke shouldn't be thinking of his hair or his whiskers or his shoulders or his back or his skin or his hands or his naked body inside his showe—
Fuck!
He swallowed, his mouth drying up. Had he felt like this for Naruto, before? Had he wanted to soak in the other man's scent? Run his fingers through the messy golden hair? Rub his hands all over that still-unseen body? Lick every inch of that glowing skin to confirm if it tasted like maple syr—?
Fucking damn it damn it damn it—
"Sasuke-kun, you can tell me," Sakura quietly said. Her voice, barely above a whisper, shattered the seemingly endless silence of the afternoon, piercing through the disturbing and illogical thoughts he had unwittingly unburied somehow. He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head, unwilling even to glance at her lest she get even a notion of his illicit thoughts. His self-control may be nigh impeccable but Sakura had grown to be a perceptive woman like her sensei, and her eyes that could seek the cause of physical pain had learned to plumb the cause of emotional discomfort.
Besides, as much as Sasuke was beginning to entertain the thought that he may be physically attracted—and how was it possible to lust after a body he hadn't even seen?—to the best friend he never knew he had, he wasn't ready to admit it vocally into existence. It was too much to fathom. Just minutes ago he was telling himself that he couldn't be attracted to another man too—
Shit. What a mess.
Then there was also the fear, spreading so slowly beneath his skin, that it may not be just attraction after all.
"Tch."
Her disappointment was palpable, her disapproval tangible, as they resumed their silent walk. Sasuke focused his attention on anything he could think of that wasn't related to frustrating blonds, finally dwelling on weapons he had been planning to have Hyuuga Tenten forge for him. A simple set of double-edged kunai, nothing fancy, strapped in a bandoleer he could wrap around his torso. He couldn't have too much of small weapons, right?
Besides—his eyes darkened—had he possessed those double-edged kunai, he could have attacked the retard with them instead of relying on his summoned projectiles. It galled him to resort to that. Yes, he could have engaged Sai in pure taijutsu, but Sasuke couldn't bear the idea of actually touching the idiot so he resorted to weapon taijutsu. Just thinking of his fist connecting to that pasty face was making shivers of disgust crawl in his skin.
Thinking of that bloody retard only soured his mood.
"He's still there," Sakura murmured beside him. Sasuke glanced ahead and confirmed what the nerves in his feet had been telling his brain—they were headed to a destination he knew. Somehow, it didn't surprise him. He should have guessed that Kakashi would be there.
In the park.
Hatake Kakashi was sitting on a beaten swing, his book conspicuously absent, his eye staring at a world none of them could traverse. Around him were children in various games, all running and yelling, yet none of them seemed to impinge the bubble that Kakashi with his mere presence had set up. Sasuke quietly walked to him, respecting the silence—Sakura followed behind with equally silent footsteps, green eyes waiting with a patience he knew he could never possess. This tableau before him of a lonely jounin against the afternoon sun suddenly made him pause.
Sasuke was disconcerted at a thought that intruded in his mind.
Kakashi's getting old.
Of course he knew this, understood on a level that remembered how to tie knots and shoelaces, the same level that recognized the difference between blue and green without actively thinking about it. It was a fact so easily seen it wasn't noticed at all. But now, seeing the silver-haired man, his former sensei, with his shoulders slightly hunched as he gazed at a distance far, Sasuke was struck at how much years had passed him by. When did this happen? When did his former mentor age?
Against the late afternoon sun, against the surreal echo of the children's laughter, Kakashi looked like he was basking in the sunset of his years. As if he had retired from active duty already, now simply enjoying the fruits of a fortunately longer life span. As if he hadn't been a shinobi at all, even, just a civilian that shinobi like Sasuke had sworn to protect. As if this was the first time Sasuke was seeing him.
As if he didn't know Hatake Kakashi at all.
And maybe he never really did. Kakashi was and always will be a paradox to Sasuke. He hardly understood the motives behind Kakashi's actions, and his actions were more often mysterious even after explained outright. Perhaps that's how it was with true genii—no one could truly understand them because people understood by their judgment, and people could only pass judgment through the actions they could see. But how do you explain actions that never made sense despite being seen over and over again?
Just as no one truly understood Sasuke, no one truly understood Kakashi too.
"Know something else?"
Just as no one truly understood Itachi—not even him.
"I just thought, if the ultimate shinobi is a leaf—"
But was it possible that someone did? Was it possible that someone understood Itachi?
"—Itachi would be a tree. Na?"
Kakashi?
"Even in your dream..."
Him?
"... it's only him who can protect you—"
Was it possible that Naruto did?
"—the only bond you'd accept."
He bit on his bottom lip, the inexplicable need to scream clawing at his throat. He could feel hot tears suddenly stinging in his eyes and Sasuke took a deep breath—confused, frustrated—as he sought to will the powerful grief that washed over him back into nothingness.
"He's the only person you'd let protect you."
But it clenched in his chest, this grief, spreading in his blood with every pumping of his heart, intensifying the ache until he hurt within, without—until all he knew, in that moment, was deep, searing, indescribable pain.
"The only one you'd live for."
In that moment on an afternoon inside the crowded children's park, the only truth in Sasuke's world was pain.
"Na, Sasuke?"
He clamped down his mouth, clamped harder down on his grief, the feelings of betrayal and loss and acceptance and defeat keening under the weight of his pain. The hands inside his pockets were shaking—it was the world shaken to its core, shifting with every tremor, every quiver, shuddering with the force of unseen truths and seen lies. He clenched his jaw, forced his mouth in its resolute straight line, adamantly refused its desire to pull down because once it did, even in accident, a quiet sob would slip out and his eyes would follow and there would be tears slipping out and he wouldn't know why and he wouldn't stop breaking for a long, long time.
It's not like that, it's not true.
But he was more afraid that, after breaking, he would never be whole again.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Because the only person who could rebuild him would never be there.
I didn't want to hurt you—
"Sasuke-kun?"
He glanced up, his eyes empty, his turmoil wiped clean off his face until even the blankness was gone, until there was nothing but the endlessness of void. Sakura reached up and touched his shoulder—Sasuke allowed her to give him the small comfort her instincts had sensed he needed. Kakashi's eyes were unreadable and he suspected that the other man understood, somehow, understood even when Sasuke himself didn't.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He grunted indifferently. Surprisingly, everything felt normal again. He wasn't even sure if the deep sorrow he felt earlier was real anymore.
Was it possible to hallucinate a feeling?
"Sensei, where's Naruto?" Sakura asked, breaking the odd silence that had settled between them. Kakashi shifted and suddenly, here was the jounin Sasuke was familiar with.
"The boys wore him out," Kakashi replied. Boys? "They're quite a handful. A curious lot too."
The amused spark in the gray eye didn't please him.
Sakura rolled her eyes. "Kakashi-sensei."
"Maa, maa." Kakashi waved a hand with cheery carelessness. His features immediately turned somber, however. "He went there."
Sakura nodded, green eyes softening. Sasuke stared blankly.
Kakashi nodded back and resumed gazing at the distance. Sakura tilted her head to the right and Sasuke's eyes narrowed, unwilling to be left in the dark but understanding he'd be left there a little bit longer. Displeasure clear, he grunted a permission to leave as Sakura's more upbeat farewell covered his. Kakashi waved back without looking at them and the two left the jounin in his silent corner in the noisy park.
The path was familiar.
He frowned. It was more than familiar, though—it was the path so plain and so far it was rarely used, a path rolling with dusts and sweat and weeds. It was a path few ever remembered to exist.
It was the path paved with his lonely footsteps and dreams.
Every step crashed into his chest, a loud clanging of cymbals that echoed in his ears. He remembered his father. He remembered his fireball. He remembered longing to please, he remembered yearning approval.
He remembered sorrow and rage. Pain, pain, pain. He remembered the reflection in the water. The vow of vengeance.
He remembered Itachi.
And then, he remembered, with clarity as stunning as lightning splitting the dark skies—
Loneliness.
Beside him Sakura slowed to a stop, her green eyes looking ahead. He followed her gaze when she remained silent. His heart pounded in his chest—near yet far was a familiar dock with a very familiar person sitting upon it.
Naruto.
She raised an arm and pointed to a cluster of trees on its far right, just by the edges of the calm afternoon water. It was a part of the dense forest of the village, and though he had been by the docks a number of times when he was younger, he hardly paid any attention to it. His attention had always been on the blue waters and the reflections it brought him.
"I used to watch you here," she said after a long silence. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, turning to her in an unspoken urge to go on. Sakura obliged with a half-smile. "Those trees over there? It connects to the meadow Ino and I used to play in. When we became friends, she brought me there as one of our secret hideouts.
"I was waiting for Ino one day and I got bored," she went on. "I began walking around—looking for exotic flowers I can show her—when I came out of those trees and saw you, sitting on that dock." She turned to him, her eyes wistful and sad. "You were—so lonely, Sasuke-kun. I was hiding from one of the trees and you looked so lonely and I wanted to—wanted to make you smile so bad."
She shook her head, a rueful look in her eyes. "But I couldn't approach you. My forehead's too big." Her lips quirked. "And the club Ino founded is for girls only. We even named it Hana to Yume, after our favorite magazine." She laughed softly and he couldn't stop a little smirk from forming in his lips. They may be training to be assassins but they were such kids back then, too.
He hadn't been a kid for long, however.
"I really wanted to, though," Sakura continued, turning serious once again. "So I hid behind those trees every day, just waiting to get the courage to approach you while waiting for Ino. I kept telling myself that I'd be like Ino, I'd be brave and come to you and make you smile and offer you a flower, say all those smart things that would make you feel better about yourself. But I couldn't see anything wrong in you. Just that—you're really sad and I didn't know why. I thought maybe it's your hair," she laughed lightly and he frowned, "but I liked it so I thought maybe I'm wrong.
"I began to watch you in school," she went on. "You were so quiet and smart and cool and you're like a real ninja already. You're so—wonderful, Sasuke-kun." She sighed and shook her head. "But you don't smile. You don't look sad but you don't smile either. It made me want to make you smile all the more.
"Then one afternoon, Ino said she couldn't come. She said her mother needed her help in the shop and I said it's okay. I wanted to watch you, see. I've been pretending for a long time and I pretended again that I'm walking to you, saying really cool things and making you smile. I liked pretending about those thing. Then—" her eyes landed on the figure on the dock, her eyes softening, "—he came along."
Dark eyes widened.
"I didn't recognize him, at first," she said, her tone self-reproaching. "He looked so different, somehow. I had to stare a long time before I did." She closed her eyes briefly. "And then, I did. He's the boy in the class the teachers didn't like. He's the one pulling pranks and he's the one our classmates were always making fun of. And he's the boy who's always talking, cracking stupid jokes and just being an annoying pest." Her eyes opened, bright with deep emotions. "I didn't recognize him because he looked like—like any other kid, except he was alone."
"Who are you?"
"He was walking, right here where we are now. Then he was slowing down until he stopped, looking down at the dock, at you, and he looked so—" tears sparkled within her eyes, "—he looked so sad, looked so sad because you're alone and sad like he was. He was looking at you with this—this longing—this expression I couldn't understand because he's just a kid like me and he shouldn't have it. It made me want to cry, the first time I saw it."
"That kinda hurt, y'know."
"Thinking about it still breaks my heart," Sakura whispered.
It's him.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her smile tremulous. "And then, as if you knew he was there, you glanced behind and suddenly, both of you... didn't look so sad anymore," she said, her voice with slight awe. "You glared at each other for a long time and then you both turned away. He walked away and you looked down at the waters and then—" her eyes rose, misty and beautiful, the first spring wonder, "—you smiled."
That boy in my dream, that Naruto—
"It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."
It's him.
Sakura shook her head, a half-smile on her face. "It made me happy and sad at the same time, your smile. I'm happy you smiled—but I'm sad it wasn't me who made you do it. It made me angry too. Angry at him. How could he do it, just look down at you like that and make you smile? It didn't—didn't make any sense." The half-smile slowly disappeared. "I disliked him for a long time because of that. Because he could take your attention away from the water, make you look less lonely. Because he could make you smile."
And Sasuke remembered those afternoons with the soft glow of memories. Of sitting on the dock and thinking, of remembering, of waiting. Of infinite silence with his eyes to the waters and his ears to the land, anticipating the near-silent shuffling footsteps of a lonely orphan as it slowed down, slower and slower until they stopped behind him, of glancing back and seeing a face that made his blood boil, his hands clench, his eyes glare until the face was glaring back and they were both turning away in boyish disdain, turning on each other's back as the footsteps shuffled away until, a safe distance later, he would glance back and smile because they understood each other somehow, understood that they're alone and they don't need anyone else because they had each other and that was enough.
"—we can be alone together."
They were lonely orphans alone together and that was enough.
Naruto—
"I guess that was the time I started to dislike him," Sakura admitted with a rueful smile. "I started observing you two in class. You didn't even look at each other, like you didn't exist to each other. But here, in this place—"
Did you feel less lonely?
"You belong together."
I did.
"Then on the day we became a team—" Sakura grinned, her eyes forming dewy crescents, "—you two got into an accident and you became alive." Her lower lip trembled, her smile wavering. "And then I knew that he and I would be rivals, even if something inside me whispered that I—that I lost already."
Accident? Rivals?
"It was so childish of me," Sakura remarked, laughingly shaking her head. "I was so horrible but I couldn't help it. I want to make you smile by myself but you're too focused on that baka. Always getting into trouble, always giving some loud speech... I didn't stand a chance." She took a deep breath and sighed. "I've fallen for you, Sasuke-kun, but how could I prove my feelings when that idiot keeps interfering? How could I get your attention when it's always on Naruto?"
Always—on Naruto?
"That's what I used to think," she admitted. "And then we became closer. We became a team. Friends. Family. And I fell deeper and deeper in love with you." She gave a broken smile. "I fell deeper in love with the you I always see when you're around him."
When I'm—around him?
"Even when you left," she continued, her voice catching in her throat, "Even when you kept saying you don't need us anymore... Even when you tried to kill me, us, him... Even after Naruto brought you back... Even after all these years, Sasuke-kun... Even after everything—I still love you."
He froze.
Sakura's smile was watery, her voice wet and thick. "I love you, Sasuke-kun. I believe it won't ever change."
He should—say something, right?
"Sakura—"
"But—" She looked afar, eyes liquid and fire, molten amber against the sun-dappled sky, the heart in her smile. "—But, I love him more."
Sasuke stopped.
"I didn't think it's possible but I love Naruto more," Sakura whispered, her voice raw. "A part of me would always be yours but—but his place is greater, Sasuke-kun. I'd always choose him over you."
And Sasuke understood. He understood more than he thought he possibly could.
"I'm sorry for lying to you," she murmured. "I just care for him more."
He nodded. He understood.
"Thank you."
Her eyes widened. Softened.
Sasuke was remembering the same thing.
When Sakura leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth, he leaned down in response and pressed her close in an awkward hug. She replied with a wet, muffled giggle that made Sasuke rethink this hugging-thing. He raised his eyes and began to step back, an annoyed scowl covering up his slight embarrassment. He's really not fond of touching.
He paused.
"Sasuke-kun?"
There's another person on the dock.
"What is it?"
His lips tightened. His eyes could easily read the words formed by the pale mouth.
"I'll always carry you."
Sasuke took a step forward. Two. More until he was walking, walking fast, walking faster, a perplexed Sakura matching his seething long strides. Until he was close to running the sinister distance to pry his best friend off that retarded asshole's back smiling with the truest smile he had ever seen.
"Thanks, Sai."