They Hold the World
Chapter 24: Uchihas Are Not. Right?
Sasuke
"We need to ask you a hard question."
The dining room never felt so stuffed. Even when Sasuke was ten and the normal amount of Uchihas in such a room was at least twelve people, he never recalled an atmosphere so . . . full. Perhaps it went beyond the number of people; perhaps it had more to do with the lingering trepidation that hovered over heads like a grey cloud. Either way, Sasuke was uncomfortable, and though he tried his best to hide it with a steel face, he wanted nothing more but to leave.
I shouldn't have agreed to this, he thought sourly, kicking at the legs of his chair with the back of his feet. When he took a glance at his parents sitting before him, a frown came to his lips. Not that I had much of a choice.
They had practically dragged him into the dining room, with Shisui following behind, as if to catch him if he chose to flee. Speaking of . . . . The devil himself was in the chair to his right, staring off at nothing in particular. There was something off about him, though Sasuke couldn't quite name it. The act he had been assuming for that past few weeks was nowhere in sight. That only got Sasuke more bothered by this situation.
If Shisui wasn't being his usual, annoying self, then how serious was this talk?
Fugaku cleared his throat. Sasuke's focus snapped to them. His father had a hard expression while his mother seemed to be searching for something in him. She leaned forward in her seat, hair falling over her shoulders, and with a heavy gaze, she asked something shaky and quiet.
"Are you . . . experiencing suicidal thoughts, Sasuke?"
. . . What?
They were asking this now? What, after years of being in his room and mauling over thoughts like 'It should have been me' and 'I killed Itachi', they had the nerve - the absolute, fucking audacity - to ask him that question NOW? What about when he was thirteen year old, verbally abusing his girlfriend because he didn't know how to deal with the loss of his own brother? What about when he was starting high school and he spent most of his days on the street or at Naruto's because he never felt welcomed in his own damn home? Where was the concern then!?
Sasuke clenched the side of the table and muttered, "No."
Mikoto and Fugaku shared a look, as if assessing if he was telling the truth, and Sasuke was so disgusted by it, he had to look away to not feel nauseous.
"They're asking," Shisui spoke up, catching his eye, "because of what you said yesterday."
What he said yesterday . . . ?
"Not until you kill me yourself!"
This was all because of that one, stupid statement?
Sasuke frowned. "You don't have anything to worry about," he said, standing up, already wondering if he should hide out in his room or get in his car and drive away to somewhere far away. "Not that you'd worry about me, anyway."
Mikoto stood, as well, eyes wide. "Sasuke -"
"Sasuke Uchiha." His father's fist landed hard on the table, making it shake so hard that the vibration went into the floor and up Sasuke's legs. Catching the back of the chair to keep his balance, Sasuke locked eyes with his father. It had been a while since he heard that voice - loud and threatening. "We're not done here. Sit your ass down now before I make you."
And like his limbs were attached to invisible strings, he sat down. As did his mother, who whispered something to her husband, rubbing his shoulder, before she bent over and pulled something up from the floor. The basket of hellebores. Sasuke settled his back against the cushion of his chair as he eyed the flowers, a bit disturbed by their sudden appearance. Ever since Itachi's death, they were practically banned from the Uchiha household. So why . . . ?
"Did you know," she whispered, placing the basket on the table and moving it to the side so she could get a clear view of her son, "that these flowers are poisonous?"
Right. He recalled Hinata saying something about that when they went on the nature trek. But still . . . why was it being brought up?
"Not to humans, of course. Mostly to animals like horses and such." Her thumb traced a petal, memories dancing in her dark eyes. He never knew Uchiha eyes could be so expressive - at least, eyes beyond Itachi's. "But when you're a parent and you just lost your son, when you hear 'poisonous', you only think 'poisonous' and not 'poisonous to animals.' And that, Sasuke, is a horrible thing to think."
Something was bubbling up in his stomach, a sort of bad feeling that he couldn't put a name to. It got him feeling unbalanced and cramped, like he was stuck in a small room and running out of air. And that feeling - he didn't know where it came from or why it was making his heart work double-time.
Maybe . . . it had something to do with the sadness in his mother's face as she slowly looked up at him.
"As parents," she said, "we regret many things. Letting you and Itachi go on that skiing trip alone; not getting you help when you needed it the most." She held her hand out to her husband, who took it without question. And that, too, just didn't happen. The affection between his mother and father - Sasuke has never witnessed it before. So that paired with the forbidden flowers and the rare, expressive eyes added up to something - something Sasuke didn't know yet. "And we regret not having our youngest son do the ceremony at his older brother's funeral."
What? Sasuke leaned forward, staring at those words that hung in the air. That can't be . . . . He frowned and bowed his chin, unsure if he should believe them. Uchihas were liars, and -
"You were young," his father said, voice even, calm. Sasuke was beginning to lose count of the normalities being thrown in the wind. "Young and upset. And when we looked at those flowers, we thought 'poisonous', and we didn't want to lose another son." His eyes drifted to Sasuke's right, which was strangely quiet, almost empty. "So we asked Shisui to do it instead."
"And they regretted it." Sasuke's head snapped over to his cousin. "We all did."
Along with that nameless feeling came another that he knew well. Too well.
Anger.
Because these people, with their fake words and masks, were rubbing it in his face. They brought those flowers and made him relive one of the hardest days of his life, as if to say 'You're brother is dead and we took everything from you, and we're about to do it again.' It was stupid. Fucking child's play. But then again, what should he expect from a bunch of Uchihas?
"But more so," Fugaku continued, staring Sasuke down, not a single thing flashing across his face upon meeting the rage that boiled in his son's gaze, "we regret not looking for you that night." Tears began to roll down Mikoto's face, and she put a hand to her mouth. "By the fireplace, we begged to go back in time to save our older son, and if we couldn't do that, then at least let us save our youngest. Because he had the right to burn those damn flowers, and when we took it from him, we might as well have killed him."
You did! Sasuke nearly yelled, but his throat was so hot and dry that not even a single word could escape him. But he so desperately wanted to yell, You killed me, and not just once, you fucking bastards!
But instead, he watched his father's gaze fall to the table, and the world turned slowly. "It should have been Sasuke." Those damn words tore his heart out his chest, leaving him to bleed out. Why? he wondered. Why are you doing this to me again? "We said those words without even noticing that you were listening to us. And that . . . is what we regret the most in the world."
His mother sobbed and bent over, shoulders trembling. "A-And now you think we wanted you dead!"
...
Dead.
That's right.
They wanted him dead.
"It should have been Sasuke." They said that. Them! His own parents. What kind of parents would do that? And now . . .
Now they were lying.
Lying and still wanting him dead.
Because that was how it was, how it has been for three years, and there's no way he was wrong - because the thought of having believed this for three years - it had to be true! They wanted him dead. Him dead and Itachi alive! For three years, they wanted that.
And his mother sobbed and his father bowed his head and his cousin sat like a puppet next to him because they all . . .
They . . . all . . .
"Never!" his mother cried. "We never wanted you dead!"
. . . were lying.
...
"LIAR!" He stood and threw his chair back. It hit the wall and fell on its side, and suddenly, a million pairs of dissimulating eyes were on him. His face was hot and his blood was boiling, and Sasuke sneered down at the sobbing, lying woman and hissed, "You're lying!"
And he turned and ran to his room and locked the door behind him just in time before he collapsed to his knees. "Itachi," he wheezed, clutching his chest as his wide, scared eyes flew around his room, searching desperately for his brother, "help me." Sweat poured down his back as fuzzy, black spots formed around his vision. "I can't breathe . . ."
A weak, shuddering breath escaped his nose as he lay on his side, blankly staring off as the world went dim. And something cool washed over his body as he fell unconscious, never once seeing his brother.
Because . . . he was dead.
And dead people can't help you breathe.
When he woke up, his mother was running fingers through his hair.
But then he became aware of the world and realized it was just the breeze from the overhead fan.
Oh my God, he thought, staring up at the ceiling, I fainted.
He sat up, winced at the cramp in his neck and the tension in his legs, and slumped over to his bed, grabbed the phone on his nightstand, and sat on the floor. When he saw he had been out for three hours, his mind went dizzy, and he had to take in a deep breath to not pass out again.
Focus. He turned on his phone and skimmed through the contacts.
But it was hard when his mind was foggy and full of lies and fake tears.
And when he pulled his phone to his ear, the first thing he heard was his name -
"S-Sasuke?"
Which was the one thing he did not want to hear.
...
"I don't know what to do."
"Tell m-me what happened."
"I can't." He rubbed his forehead and groaned. "Because it was all lies."
"Who l-lied, Sasuke?"
His eyes narrowed. "Stop, Hinata." He leaned forward, swayed with nausea, and instead bent his knees so he could rest his forehead against them. "I don't want to hear that." It was hot and cold at the same time, with sweat on his face and ice on his toes. Sasuke focused on relaxing his shoulders in hopes of some sort of comfort. "Just . . . don't say my name. Please."
A pause with distant swiping in the background.
"Do y-you want me to come over?" she asked.
"No." He didn't want her to see his family . . . ever. "Just talk. It's fine if you talk."
"A-Actually, um . . ." Her voice went soft, and he had to press the phone closer to his ear in order to understand her. "Maybe you should t-talk."
Frustration burned in his chest, but he ignored it. She was probably right. What good would it do for him if she did all the talking?
"My family lied to me again."
"A-About what?"
"About everything. About caring about me. About wanting me to do the ceremony." His eyes found the crack under the door, where no movement came. "About not wanting me dead."
Hinata hummed. "Are y-you sure?"
"Of course I am, Hinata," he said. "They said it was because they wanted me to burn the flowers, but I know - I know what they meant. Even before he died, they always liked him more than me." Running a hand through his hair, he sucked in the cool air of his room in hopes of cooling down the fire in his lungs. "They're lying. I know it."
She was quiet for a while, probably taking it in. He couldn't blame her. It was a lot - and hell, she wasn't even a part of this damn family.
"H-Hey." A gentle call that eased the tension out of his stomach. "D-Do you think I'm a liar?"
"What?" Why would she ask that? "No."
"Then . . . listen to me for a moment." She breathed into the mic before continuing. "That day - when i-it snowed, you almost couldn't come. They wouldn't l-let you. B-Back then, I thought it was because I w-was a Hyuuga, but now - now I think i-it's because they were worried for you. And . . . when you were at the hospital, your mother was very distraught. Always b-by your side and holding y-your hand. And, um, your father - he reminds me of you, I-I think. He didn't let it show, n-necessarily, b-but it was obvious h-he was worried. Petrified. So much so that j-just looking at you made him pale."
He frowned. This didn't sound right. "Hinata -"
"And Shisui . . . well, in f-front of me, he's n-never hidden how much he cares about you." She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "He stayed the n-night at the hospital, n-not getting a wink of sleep because he was so nervous. And - and t-today, he came over to my house." Wait. "He t-told me you'd call. I think . . . I think he knew you'd react this way and wanted to make sure you had s-someone to turn to."
His mouth was dry. He couldn't believe it.
"Hinata," he said, "this didn't actually . . . happen."
"Y-You . . . said I wasn't a liar. Do you think I would make something like this up?"
No. Of course not.
It just . . .
Didn't sound right.
Because for three years, he's thought his family hated him.
"I don't think . . . the people who did this would l-lie to you."
And the fact that, maybe, that wasn't true was . . . beyond reach.
Clutching his head, feeling a migraine pound at his temples, he mumbled, "You really think so? Really? No exaggeration - nothing."
"I really think so."
And he felt stupid because . . . for so long, he's distanced himself from the thing he wanted the most - people who loved him. For three years. All because . . . because he thought . . .
"What . . . do I do?"
"Well." He clung to his phone. "T-Talk to them."
"I can't."
That was impossible. How can he talk to people who he's thought have been wanting him dead for years?
"You . . . can't?"
"A loving mother and father and a cousin who is looking out for me - I don't know those people. Not for three years, at least. So . . . no, I can't."He pursed his lips and lifted his head. "And . . . you think I'm overreacting, don't you?"
"No, u-um, I think you're reacting like any person would. But when all this confusion is gone, I-I think you'll see the truth."
" . . . Which is?"
"That . . . your family loves you very much."
...
A few minutes later, he stood in front of his door, wavering, hand lifting and falling from his side. He couldn't make up his mind, and it was annoying. He sighed and said into the speaker of his phone, "Hinata."
"Hmm?"
"Say my name." His eyes trailed the knob. "Please."
"S-Sasuke?"
His heart jumped. "Again."
"Sasuke . . ."
And his stomach fluttered. "Again."
"Sasuke."
And his chest was full, and that was all he needed to grab the knob and yank his door open. "Thanks," he whispered. "I'll talk to them."
He ended the call and stuffed the phone in his pocket before slowly making his way down the staircase. It was like gravity was stronger, for his feet felt heavy and his stomach full of steel, but he pushed through it and made it to the bottom. The house was silent. Even the blowing wind outside did not make it creak. Nerves on end, he made his way to the dining room, stopped before he entered, and tried to calm down his racing pulse.
Why does it hurt?
It felt like his heart was running laps in his chest.
Why is this so hard?
He stood and listened, and when not even a whisper was heard on the other side of the wall, he hesitated. They weren't there.
Then where . . . ?
He stood and entered the room, only to find that he had, indeed, entered a room full of Uchihas. Full of his family. Full of . . . people who had waited.
For him.
"Sasuke."
And they whispered his name as if they were scared he'd run away at just the sound of it. And that name - he used to hate it so much, because it was the one thing they had given him, the one thing that he alone owned, and he used to hate those people. But now . . . it kind of felt nice . . . to hear it be said by the people who love you.
"So . . ." He bit his lips, eyes swimming, hands fisting at his side, breath leaving, heart pounding, control slipping away until slowly, shamefully, water leaked from his eyes and trickled down his red, hot face as he hiccuped and asked, "you don't want me dead, r-right?"
His mother was the first to reach him, bawling and holding him close, running her fingers through his hair. "No baby," she whispered frantically. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. I love you."
His father came next, hand on his back, warming him up and pulling them both to him. He was quiet, but warm, and Sasuke felt like he was four again and leaning against his sturdy father. It felt nice. Safe.
And Shisui . . .
He stood to the side, watching the whole scene unfold, smiling a bit. In his right hand was the basket of hellebores, peeking out and seeming to bloom out towards the family of warm, healing Uchihas.
In the cemetery, they stood before Itachi's grave.
"Oh my God," his mother giggled as she eyed the faded marks on the tombstone. "I can't believe they haven't washed away."
"Of course not," his father mused, shaking his head. "Whenever someone would come to clean it off, Sasuke would just sneak back out and do it again."
Shisui peered down at the marks and smirked. "Mmm. I'm sure Itachi is laughing it up right now." His eyes stared up at the sky. "Cocky bastard."
Sasuke rubbed the back of his head, scowling. "Just ignore it and light the damn things already."
Mikoto and Shisui stepped back as Fugaku pulled out a lighter. Sasuke picked up the basket of flowers and held them over the grave. He watched as they lit up, a small flame at first that slowly became bigger the more flowers it got to. The smell was disgusting, a mixture of sweet and smoky, but he was glad, in a way, to smell it. Because it meant . . . he was finally doing what he was always supposed to do.
Ash poured out of the burning basket. Sasuke placed in on the grave and stepped back to be in line with the rest of his family. Mikoto and Shisui bowed their heads in prayer while Fugaku looked on with something of a content smile on his lips.
And Sasuke?
He felt . . . free. And that was the best feeling in the world.
Well . . . second best.
And he wasn't willing to admit what the first was.
...
Half an hour later, the ceremony was over with.
His father and mother had left to prepare the traditional feast that follows after funerals, leaving Sasuke to say his final farewells to his brother alone.
"It's colder when you're not around." It didn't feel . . . right. He hadn't talked to his brother since his passing, so now that Sasuke had the chance to, he felt awkward. But his mother always told him that even those in the afterlife can hear them, so he figured he might as well mention a few things to that nosy brother of his. "I guess it's because you aren't always on me about things anymore." His ears burned, both from the nippy air and from the drum in his chest. In some way, it felt like Itachi was teasing him, again.
Smirking slightly, Sasuke took a step back and sighed. "But it's fine," he muttered, gloved hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "There's someone else who can keep me warm now. So . . . don't worry like you always did."
The wind howled, and that was all he heard. Finished with what he had to say, he moved to follow the trail back to the mansion. His eyes caught sight of Shisui looming over a headstone off in the back of the cemetery, where most of the lesser known Uchihas, such as butlers and those who passed as infants, were buried. Walking over, Sasuke stared down at it over his cousin's shoulder.
The first thing he noticed was that it only had the first name; the second -
"It's my father."
It wasn't really well kept.
Which was odd, because Sasuke knew Shisui's parents before they had passed. Not personally, but through stories. His mother was Sasuke's aunt, a powerful lady with a branch of cosmetics in nearly every country in the world. His father was a quiet but wealthy man who had a mansion on the other side of town. To see one of them back here, and without a last name, was beyond confusing.
"Why?"
Shisui looked over at him and smiled. "What, you think the only tension between my family and yours is between us?"
At that, Sasuke frowned.
"I heard . . ." His voice was soft, so he had to clear his throat and flatten it. "I heard from Hinata that you were at her house this morning." Shisui's eyes flashed. Arrogant ass. "Didn't I tell you to leave her alone?"
"Hmm." Shisui faced him, smirking. "And leave you to the wolves? I'm hurt, Sasuke. I'm not that heartless."
"Yeah." Sasuke's eyes fell. "I know . . ." Squaring his shoulders, he raised his chin and glared. "Just . . . stop messing around. It's annoying."
Shisui laughed and grabbed his hand. "Don't worry, Sasuke." His smile was strained and his eyes were blank. "You won't have to worry about me for much longer."
And his hand . . . was cold.
Chapter Twenty-Four - End