La Belle Dame Sans Merci: 37:
"The Sound of Silence"
"I – don't want to inconvenience you," Sasuke says, words clumsy and stiff. "I could leave. Can drop Itachi off here without waking you up tomorrow."
Kakashi does not turn from his cooking, glances briefly at the reflection offered by the dark window: Sasuke sitting curled up around Itachi, looking a little solemn and unaccustomedly uncomfortable.
"You could," he replies evenly.
Sasuke studies him for a brief moment before letting his gaze slide past him and fix on the strangely compelling reflection. They are both aware that they are both watching it.
The part of Sasuke that looks at his body from outside, the part that was Orochimaru and studies it with reverence as a wondrous object to own, is fascinated. When the snake Sannin first saw this body it was twelve years old, neither short nor particularly thin for its age, and its prettiness had not been worn down, hadn't acquired the quality of something precious and fading. The person he studies now (himself) does not look a mother but is very clearly adult, though too young for the discreet wrinkles around the eyes, dark now. Idly he muses that he is unlikely to grow larger; too old for it, really, and his brother too was small.
"Or you could stay," Kakashi continues neutrally. "It's entirely up to you."
"I see," Sasuke says, puts Itachi down and away. "I'm…"
His silence is one that struggles with words he cannot say, perhaps cannot even find.
"I know," Kakashi replies, inflectionless. "You're trying to let go."
"No," Sasuke protests, childish after all. And not childish at all, just so bone-deep tired, and so lost. This world isn't his, hasn't properly been his since the first Tsukiyomi hit him. "Yes. I suppose."
I remember saying, I love you too, and not being certain why. But maybe – it could be –
(maybe it wasn't a lie)
"You don't want to," Kakashi starts, turning the stove off.
"Of course I don't!" Sasuke interrupts. Is the man stupid? (am i?) "But that doesn't – that can't be allowed to matter."
"Why?"
He is hard pressed to think Sasuke would have looked more shocked or hurt or vengeful had he hit him, this grown-up child who tried to sever his bonds in The Valley at the End, for fundamentally different reasons. There's reason for that, needless to say.
"Because you." Sasuke stops himself viciously, forces the coming words. "I want something – more for you. Something better than what I can…"
Oh holy hell, what is he doing?
Take everything that they have to offer, and then leave.
Except he never managed that, not really, and I don't want to try anymore.
"You're," and Kakashi did not mean this to come out so condescending, did not mean for it to sound so sardonic, "trying to do the right thing?"
"I'm trying to – I don't know. Oh hell, just forget about it."
"Hm," Kakashi says, salting the stew. "What is it that you want?"
"I don't know." Sasuke looks wary, aggressive. He thinks about Itachi.
"From me?"
I'm trying to do the right thing.
How can you do the right thing if you don't know what it is?
("right is a point of view")
"I," Sasuke says, in a toneless, gravelly voice. "You are important to me. I – care for you. I want to be able to be – close to you." There is a pause, thoughts spinning visibly through his mind, struggling towards articulation, his voice hasty and thick. "I want to be important to you. I want to be sure you won't go away, that you'll never disappear from me."
I cannot believe I said that.
There is no time for regret.
Kakashi nods. "How is this different from what you want from Naruto?"
"It isn't," Sasuke says. "Only. I need it from him. If I am to want it from anyone."
Truth can make or break many things. Can be a gift, and can be treasured as such. Can be a curse as well.
I don't know what I intend this as.
He has gone through emotion and past it, stares out into the world with the knowledge he cannot continue screwing everyone up now he must make sure Itachi is cared for.
(my way of the ninja! where no one is hurt, and the hero saves everyone, and anyone can have a happy ending)
(shut up, idiot)
"I see," says Kakashi, with a subtle kind of grin. "You don't make subtle distinctions, do you? You either care for people wildly or you don't at all, no subcategories."
"Those became pointless a long time ago," Sasuke says. He looks more like Orochimaru than he has for some time, but not – not directly unkind. "You are – what you are to me." I don't even have a word for it. "What do you want from me?"
A wise childish outburst, and the hateful implication; it's yours if I can give it.
"I want the impossible," Kakashi says. He hasn't answered questions since he was young. There was never a point. "I want you. I want you to love me." He shrugs, not lightly. "I know I can't have that. I'm attempting to make peace with that knowledge."
"I see," Sasuke says very carefully. "How can I make that easiest for you?"
How can I stop you trying to let go of me?
How can I stop myself stopping that?
"I'm not sure," Kakashi says mildly. Truth is cash, tonight. "I've never tried it before."
"I don't want to enjoy hurting you," Sasuke says, and Kakashi thinks he is being honest. "But I do."
It lets me know you are mine.
And this is why Anko will never be a threat, because he has cut her so deeply she will never belong to anyone else as completely as she has belonged to him.
Why he can keep himself from hurting Yamanaka Ino, because Ino has left no permanent scars on Sakura's heart.
"I'm aware of that," Kakashi says. "I'm tough. I heal."
"You'd better."
He lifts an eyebrow, trying for levity. "Agreed. Dinner?"
"I'm not pregnant anymore."
"You're still thin."
"Hn." A very Sasuke thing to say, but he doesn't feel like Sasuke. I'm not sure what I feel like.
He's never going to have easy muscles or broad strength; killer instinct is what matters, but agility and speed are assets to be honed and treasured. Slender equals practical.
"You can just watch me eat, then. I think Itachi would like some dinner, though."
"Oh. Right. Of course. Throw me a flask."
Kakashi does; puts the pot on the table, with a glass and utensils.
Eats economically, with the tasteless discipline of any trained fighter who's been through war and starvation before.
Sasuke is impatient with the child, fingers tugging mildly but still tugging at the little body. The sleep jutsu is administered after barely a burp.
"In a hurry?" Kakashi asks lazily.
"Hn." Preoccupied. He has said too much already, almost impossibly much.
"Want?" Kakashi asks, angling the pot minutely towards him.
Sasuke shrugs, takes the chopsticks from his hand and fishes up a bite.
"I'll do it," he mutters afterwards, grabbing pot and glass and starting the wash-up.
"If you like."
Kakashi bends wearily for Itachi, busies himself putting him to bed in the fake cradle. So many fake things.
Sasuke stops in the bedroom doorway, hair ruffled sleepily, like he's just woken up. "How?" he asks.
Do you want me here?
"It's up to you," Kakashi says carefully. Won't take responsibility for this one.
Want you anywhere.
"Alright," says Sasuke, and steps inside.
Kakashi does not look at him, strips off his vest and pants, loosens the buttons of his shirt.
Light steps sneak up close behind him, Sasuke standing near enough he can feel the warmth, meager though it may be. He turns partially around, the back of his knees against the edge of the bed, looks down at Sasuke.
Black eyes in the dim light, stupefying long white legs under the shirt.
A dark eyebrow climbing his fronthead, almost smooth now, because there are limits to how much influence the remnants of Uchiha Sasuke has on this person, and he has offered enough vulnerability tonight. More than enough (never enough).
"Are you interested, now? I remember you prefer women."
"Don't be stupid," Kakashi mutters, and doesn't want to make a joke of it: knots his fingers in Sasuke's hair, cradles his head; lifts his face and kisses his mouth.
Sasuke lets him, for a long while, then slips past him to sit atop the bed.
Kakashi joins him there, silver hair falling soft as the kiss, obscuring his face as he crawls beneath the blanket and lies down.
"Coming?" he asks rather blandly
"In a manner of speaking," Sasuke mutters, then drops the mask. "If you want me to."
"I'm going to sleep," says Kakashi.
"Mmh," says Sasuke, and there is weight and unpleasant angles in the bed, pressing into Kakashi's side. Sasuke always sleeps on Kakashi's arm, letting Kakashi's wrist curve kindly, possessively, around the nape of his neck.
Sleep does not come easily to Sasuke tonight. Come morning he has barely rested, slips out of bed as carefully as he can. Having dressed himself and used the bathroom he returns, stands for what he meant to be just a moment over the bed, looking at the sleeping man.
He didn't say, I love you.
He doesn't want to lie, doesn't want to offer any more truth.
Leans forward to brush hair out of Kakashi's face, kiss his temple.
He vaguely remembers the legend about the Kiss of Death.
On the way out he pauses, also, at the cradle. In a sense this is easier, ironically: he bends, swift as sin, touches a fingertip to Itachi's cheek. Limp from the sleeping jutsu, the child does not move a muscle.
Sasuke is not used to having things to leave behind.
Neji is at the gate already, serene and immaculate. His hands look very pale against what seems to be burn wounds.
The Hyuuga nods gravely, the minimal inclination of his head demanded by the heroic history of his lineage, of his upbringing.
Memories of child-Sasuke scream at him to return the greeting properly, not to be outdone in polite rituals, while the remnants of Orochimaru shrug, and chuckle. Politeness is good for unsettling the uncouth, but civilized people trapped in its rituals will oft be more shaken by simple rudeness.
"Are you certain this is a good idea?" Neji asks. His voice is carefully inflectionless.
"Yes," Sasuke says shortly.
Neji does want to be satisfied with that, does want to let it rest.
On the other hand Neji wants for a lot of things which are not granted him.
"I heard," he says, still calm, in the rich trained voice of a man who speaks seldom and with weight behind his words, "that you very recently screamed for a good thirty hours."
He expected malice. Did not anticipate the expression of – startled recognition.
Belatedly he remembers that though they were never Sasuke's forte, implication and insult came easily to Orochimaru.
"Worried about your wife?" Sasuke inquires, and the tone might actually have been politely concerned if not for the subtle lift of his eyebrow.
"Hey!" a familiar voice calls through the chilly morning mist, accompanying the swift running steps. "Sasuke! Neji."
Naruto, beaming brilliant Naruto who makes sunlight unnecessary with his garish glow. Coming to stand just beside Uchiha, nodding across the few feet's distance to Neji.
It freezes him that Uchiha simply does not need to actually touch Naruto. Neji is not even competition. I knew that, didn't I? Yes.
"Morning, guys," Naruto blabbers on around a yawn, obviously in nervously high spirits, going on like he hasn't for months. "Where's Shikamaru? Lazy thing late again?"
Evidently he is, but not by much, at least not as measured by the standard Kakashi set.
They set off at a brisk pace, running close enough for easy communication, in these safely familiar forests.
"Alright," Shikamaru says. "As fast as we've reached Sound it's a different matter since I'm not the one with specific expertise, but until then – well, I like myself alive and uninjured. I'd say I'm the best planner."
"Agreed," Neji says evenly, not looking at anyone.
Worried about your wife?
I probably should be.
"Yeah," Naruto agrees with the proposition.
"Alright," Uchiha mutters.
"Good," says Shikamaru, and proceeds to go into Chuunin mode and deal out instructions. "Neji in the front, start the Byakugan scanning as fast as we're past the border. Uchiha, follow him. Naruto, you take the rear."
They assume position swiftly and wordlessly. Shikamaru can't help thinking about the team he headed almost four years ago, hunting for Uchiha, nor that one time he worked with the ANBU – that same impression of orderly lethality.
Except it might be quite more than an impression, this time.
There is little need or want for interaction. Naruto wonders briefly, around a miniscule fire at night, whether Shikamaru will whisper to Sasuke about what he said to Naruto, last they worked together, but nothing happens. Naruto slumps down close to Sasuke, chewing energetically, watches Neji sitting stark and alone on the far side of the flames and Shikamaru dozing with his back against a tree.
Two days later Neji says, "There are people around us. Some of them may be aware of our approach. It seems reasonable to assume they are scouts from the main Sound party hidden beyond the cliffs up ahead."
"Right, then," Sasuke says. "Headbands off."
Naruto obeys reluctantly, putting the precious item away in a pocket, waiting until Neji and Shikamaru have done the same. Sasuke, of course, has not worn a headband for anything but deception, mission necessity, for the last – almost four years, now. God.
"Look impressive," Sasuke says. "Feel free to maim, but don't kill yet."
We need someone to herald our advent.
Hence when they walk into the camp they do it with style and audience both, Sasuke appearing pathetically short flanked by Neji and Shikamaru; as the one with superhuman healing ability, Naruto inevitably ended up in the vulnerable spot shielding their backs.
They are faced primarily by an assembly of perhaps ten fighters standing proud and clearly waiting for them in the middle of the camp. Probably a hundred pairs of eyes follow their steps as they draw closer. Naruto does not need to be able to see more than Sasuke's neck to be certain his eyes are red, with the complicated blood-bought details of the Mangekyou.
He has hardly talked, since they left. It hasn't been a bad silence, per see, just a thoughtful one.
Sound is shabby, there is no denying it, but Naruto has seen starved and hurried campsites before, and the multitude of weaponry he glimpses is in excellent condition. The ninja have hard exteriors, unwashed and curt. Strong, undeniably that.
Of course, appearances are prone to be deceiving, but he does not think these are.
A man steps forward from the group of strangers. Naruto scans him hurriedly: pretty tall, pallid the way that means he has minions who do his dirty daylight work for him, that he mostly only fights in the dark, a notable amount of chakra, and probably he's shielding.
"Uchiha Sasuke," he says slowly, in a deep carrying voice. Partly question, partly acknowledgement.
"I've been known to answer to the name," Sasuke says. He sounds as cold as he looks, like his touch would leave frost-bite on your skin. "I'm sure you remember that this body is called that, Domei."
The man apparently named Domei transforms a startle into a raised eyebrow. Question still, challenge as well now: "Orochimaru-sama?"
"I've been known to answer to that name too," says Sasuke. "It is no longer a distinction of any importance."
"Those are," a woman says, stepping forward to stand just behind Domei. "That's the final form of the Sharingan. You have achieved the Mangekyou, Orochimaru-sama."
There is a ripple of noise around them, people breaking out in whispers, rumor and speculation traveling across the camp with the speed of, befittingly, sound.
"Correct," Sasuke says, still cold, superior, but letting a faint note of pleasantry enter his tone. Orochimaru, Naruto remembers vaguely, was a lengthy talker, knew how to convince an auditorium. "I slew Uchiha Itachi for them."
"If," Domei starts, has to repeat himself over the tide of shocked noise. "If you are truly our master, then fight me, and prove it, and I shall gladly kneel for you, as ever I have done!"
"Adequately put," Sasuke says, and his expression chills Neji to the bone (the idea a monstrosity like this should be presumed to be on our side!). "Very well." He waves the Leaf ninja away. "Stand aside."
Naruto does so rather hurriedly, eager to see what Sound's apparent leader is good for. Beside him Shikamaru follows at a slightly more sedate pace, muttering under his breath about how this is not only troublesome but ridiculous as well. He's never been one for pretentious epics.
Neji, who sees more than either of them, more than any other living person within miles and miles, speaks not.
Sees the tension coiling through Uchiha, the anticipation and power. The rush of fear and anxiety and need in Domei.
Neji might not be a genius in the way Shikamaru is, but he knows how this will end. Hopes Uchiha can keep his deranged mind together long enough not to fuck this up entirely until they have achieved slightly better odds.
The Sound villagers step back as well, clearing a, under the circumstances, generous space for the two combatants.
Ostensibly and with showmanship he ought not to possess, Uchiha pauses to liberate his weapons, and, astonishingly, to drop them uselessly on the ground. Kunai, shuriken and exploding tags land in a neat circle around him, and he looks up, with a smirk of pleasure so twisted it becomes something entirely different.
His opponent is not a fool, keeps his head and his arsenal.
It quickly becomes apparent that the substitute leader of the remnants of the Hidden Village of Sound is skilled, as well. Clearly Jounin level; clearly, as he evades certain moves, quite above the minimum requirements for that.
So's Sasuke, though, and so was Orochimaru, for a very long time.
Shikamaru is tempted to doze, can only regret that the hostile stares make napping uncomfortable. Neji must reluctantly admit that Uchiha is a beautiful fighter, that in a parallel dimension Naruto's wide-eyed staring, his drinking in the sight with minimally parted lips, might not have been entirely outrageous.
Sasuke tilts his head to the side, studying Domei even as he absently dodges several attacks. To a considerable extent this is for show, he reminds himself. He should play up, should let loose with some impressive techniques and wear Domei down slowly before dealing out a decisive finishing blow. Let them have a hint of what I'm capable of.
It just seems so meaningless, and the desire to fight, honestly and deadly, is itching inside him, clawing its way out through raw, over-sensitized skin.
He sidesteps another assault, contemplates. Chidori and fire jutsu are perfect for showing off, but in order to establish his identity as Orochimaru he ought probably to employ moves more typical of the Sannin – sound techniques, snake summoning, something dark and twisted.
He settles for a compromise, blowing sound-waves and fire Domei's way before jumping, spinning, feet connecting hard with Domei's neck. Domei stumbles, struggles down onto his knees.
Sasuke lands elegantly, pure style. Waste of time to pose like this in any real battle, but you do what you need to, and it looks the way it's supposed to: masterful, effortless.
Sakki crawls up his spine, and he models it, forces it structured, lets it leak from a single fingertip pointed at Domei's fronthead.
The man freezes, stops. Manages to bow his head, blood dripping from his ears.
Sasuke lets everything hang in the balance for a few moments, hoping for another assault (give me an excuse) but eventually he must chain down the sakki, stand up straight.
"Master," Domei says, bowing formally as best as he's able with the burn wounds lining his side. "I acknowledge you as Orochimaru-sama, leader of the Hidden Village of Sound and all its ninja."
Sasuke nods gravely. "Let us proceed. There are certain issues which merit discussion. You may rise, Domei."
"Yes, Orochimaru-sama. This way, if you please?"
Sasuke inclines his head again, gestures over his shoulder for the Leaf shinobi to follow. So too does the Sound group that waited for them with Domei.
Minutes later they are all assembled in a tent, seated around a scratched but clearly expensive table. The Sound ninja's expressions vary between uncertainty and wild joy. Sasuke knows them all, picked several up himself when his body was still tall and called Orochimaru. They are worthwhile, if not all outstanding.
"Master," Ami says. "If I may be so bold – where have you been?"
"I had some business to attend to in Leaf," Sasuke says.
"Speaking of which," a terrifyingly scarred man interjects into the following silence, "who are those people? They from Leaf?"
"As a matter of fact, they are," Sasuke confirms calmly, condescendingly. "The blond one is the Kyuubi host."
Astonishingly, the stares and whispers are not hateful, much less scornful. On the contrary, Naruto understands slowly, doubting his own judgment, there's admiration there, respect. Fear, certainly, but of the wary, envious kind, not of the sick murderous variety offered by people who have actually lived through the horror of the Fox Demon of the Nine Tails. This is the reaction of people who care only for the moral of strength, and need.
"And a Hyuuga," Ami comments at length, glancing at Neji before shifting her gaze to Shikamaru. "What does that make you?"
"Nara Shikamaru, Leaf Chuunin." He sighs, contemplates. Scratches his neck. "I took down one of the Sound Four who picked up Uchiha years ago."
"Huh," she says. "They were always too arrogant, those four."
Neji fists his hands below the table and stares evenly at Uchiha. Watches words form in his throat before they spill softly, slowly into the air, sweet as a promise. Inevitable as that, too.
Uchiha Sasuke was mainly wont to grunt and give curt orders. Neji would have liked that better than this masterful display of an orator's skill, a dictator's indulgence and sharp assertions of authority. There are words of Leaf being depleted but its core being untouched yet and strong – a useful tool for keeping things in motion, as it were.
War, according to Orochimaru, according to Sound, according, one is presumed to believe, to what has become of Sasuke, is a fortunate state of affairs. It is to be prolonged, their win postponed until long grievous battles have been fought, heroes and their victims found and lost.
The course of action, in other words, is to be an alliance with Leaf.
One brave soul inquires into the wisdom of this. Uchiha raises one eyebrow in the dismissive, disdainful gesture that means: you have not fought me for the privilege of addressing me, worm. The man's own comrades hiss him silent and subdued, and Neji gets the definite impression he will be in for a healthy beating later.
He can imagine all too vividly what punishments Orochimaru dealt out for speaking up out of turn.
Uchiha does not need to say: I created you. This village exists by my whim, my name and my power hold it together, hold you up. None of you are anything without me.
"I'd like to fight you," Ami remarks to Naruto the moment the gathering is dismissed. "If Orochimaru-sama permits, of course?"
"Feel free," her master says, looking rather self-satisfied and challenging.
Neji knows whom Naruto would like to fight, and against whom Uchiha too would want to measure himself. Knows it won't matter, here and now.
"You're on," Naruto tells the girl with a grin.
She is not the only one he fights that night. Nor is she the only one paying attention to him, offering respect – whether fake or genuine he doesn't know.
Shrugging, Neji decides he might feel better for blowing off some steam and accepts a few challenges himself.
He pointedly does not watch as Uchiha and Naruto slip away, leaving him and Shikamaru to share a recently evacuated tent. In Leaf the weakest ones would not have been kicked from their beds to leave room for high-ranked guests, but this is not Leaf, and Neji cannot summon the energy to honestly mind.
In the main pavilion Sasuke gestures the remaining attendants out, watches Naruto grin warily.
"I think that went rather well," the blond announces. "They're all over you, Neji and I kicked ass, and as long as we can do that they're just gonna follow us, aren't they, and believe me, kicking ass will never be a problem!"
"Indeed," Sasuke says, not sparing the babble much attention. He needs to consider how the administration will have to be set up, what arrangements and compromises will need to be enforced.
He should not think about Itachi.
"So," Naruto says. "What's the plan for tomorrow, oh great leader?"
"Isn't it obvious? We will turn towards Leaf, intercepting the smaller gathering of Sound ninja on the way. I anticipate little trouble."
"Sounds good," Naruto agrees. He's standing close now, bright and with a hint of sweat from his matches. "Is everything – as it should?"
"'Should' is a useless concept," Sasuke dismisses. His body's forced and hasty adjustment to the increased chakra levels worked, but not smoothly. A migraine is brewing in his skull, power itching underneath his skin, eager to break free.
"You're such a pessimist, Sasuke." It is not an entirely playful utterance, spoken close to his face.
"Realist," he corrects. Looks up at Naruto from under rather heavy lids; remembers too late that his eyes are not golden.
"I want to," Naruto breathes, hot moist air against his jaw. "Do you?"
"This isn't the time," Sasuke replies. "Sleep on the couch."
It's startled relief that Naruto does not argue – Sasuke's headache is growing worse, and it'd be just as unseemly for the leader of Sound to argue with a mere demon container as to share a bed with him in these circumstances, with so many eyes undoubtedly watching them.
Sasuke, of course, is not aware that recent events (on kakashi's bed, in the forest afterwards) alerted Naruto quite alarmingly to how wrong those other times really were, when Sasuke said neither yes nor no and simply let him.
(how did he do it with itachi?)
(bad thought, bad thought, but naruto cannot stop picturing it, sweating and twisting in his sheets)
(i'll just have to make sure i'm the lasting impression, then)
xxxxxxxxxx