TWENTY-THREE

("No one deserves to be alone like that. No one should suffer that much.")

Naruto thinks about those words as he sits in the grass—the words Iruka-sensei said to him that day, when he risked his life to save him.

("No one should suffer that much.")

Naruto thinks about those words—and for some reason, they make him think of Sasuke.

He twists a blade of grass around his fingers, pulling it up from the ground. He digs his nails into the soil, and thinks about a boy sitting at the end of a dock. He thinks about walking past that dock each afternoon, glancing down and seeing him there.

("No one deserves to be alone like that.")

He always knew that Sasuke was alone, just like he was. But he never understood how, not until Itachi Uchiha came crashing into the village, his existence like a roadmap leading straight into his teammate's heart.

("No one should suffer that much.")

Naruto knows he overreacted yesterday, when they went to go visit Sasuke at the hospital. He hadn't meant to lose his temper the way he did, especially when it was clear that Sasuke wasn't alright. But Naruto went there to show his honest concern, and all he received for it was insults and belittling remarks.

But he shouldn't have been so quick to react. He sees that now. He sees that his best friend is suffering—even if he doesn't understand how.

("No one deserves to be alone.")

He understands that Sasuke feels like he's still alone, even though he's surrounded by people. He understands how it feels to be alone so long, that sometimes you don't even realize when you no longer are.

Sasuke is pushing them away. With harsh words and cold glares, Sasuke is building a wall between himself and the rest of the world. But Naruto won't let him. They both know how it feels to be alone, and Naruto won't let Sasuke suffer it willingly.

He thinks about the Curse Mark on Sasuke's neck. He thinks about the purpose of it. He thinks about the hands that wrapped so mercilessly around Sasuke's throat, the screams that were torn from his lips.

He thinks about how weak Itachi Uchiha made Sasuke look—and he feels a cold fear in his heart that refuses to fade.

Because what if Sasuke refuses to let them help him? What if he goes to someone else instead?

Naruto clenches his jaw, pulling more violent at the grass beneath him. "Ugh!" he says. "Stupid Sasuke!"

Jiraiya looks up from his magazine at the noise. "Hey," he says. "What did that poor patch of ground ever do to you?"

Naruto huffs, throwing the grass he ripped from the ground up into the air. He falls onto his back, staring up at the clear blue sky.

"Pervy Sage," he says after a moment, "that Orochimaru guy was your teammate, right?"

Jiraiya's hand freezes on the page. Sensing the serious tone to the blonde boy's voice, he pulls his gaze away from scantily-clad swimsuit models.

"Yes. He was."

Naruto twists blades of grass around his fingers, still looking up at the sky. "Why did he desert the village?"

The inquiry is clearly unexpected. Pervy Sage frowns, a crease appearing between his eyebrows, and for a moment, Naruto thinks he isn't going to answer. Maybe he doesn't know.

"Orochimaru's parents were killed when he was very young," Jiraiya says. "They were both shinobi of the Leaf. Orochimaru became obsessed with power after that. Perhaps he wanted to find a way to bring them back. Or perhaps he harbored resentment toward the village for causing their deaths."

Naruto frowns when he hears this information. "His parents were killed… just like Sasuke's."

Jiraiya looks over to him with a frown. "Sasuke? Is that what this is about?"

He pulls at the grass, chewing on his lip. "I'm worried about him. Did you know Orochimaru gave him a Curse Mark?"

Jiraiya nods with a grave look. "Yes, I heard. In the Chuunin Exams, right?"

Naruto nods, biting his lip. "He wants Sasuke. I'm not sure why. And Sakura-chan said he seemed so sure that Sasuke would go to him…"

"And you fear that it's true? That Sasuke will be tempted?"

Naruto doesn't want to consider it. Sasuke would never go to Orochimaru—not to the man who attacked Konoha and killed the Third Hokage. But he thinks about how easily Itachi halted his Chidori, how effortlessly he beat Sasuke down, and he worries.

Sasuke is strong—Naruto's always wanted to be as strong as him. But if Itachi Uchiha is his goal, then Sasuke is hilariously outmatched.

"He wants to beat his brother," Naruto says. "To be strong enough to kill him."

"Revenge," Jiraiya says. He sighs. "Your friend has a lot of anger in his heart. A lot of darkness. Orochimaru will try to use that. He'll try to take advantage of it."

Naruto pushes himself back off the ground, turning to look at the Sennin. "So then… you think he'll leave, then?"

"It's hard to say," he replies. "On the surface, he and Orochimaru appear to share slight similarities. But Sasuke appears to consider you a comrade, at least. He has a tie with you. I don't know if Orochimaru ever felt the same."

Naruto nods at this. Despite Sasuke's cool, often detached exterior, deep down he considers his teammates to be his comrades. Naruto knows from the way he pushed himself to his feet in the forest, prepared to fight Gaara even knowing it meant his death.

("I never want to see that again. My precious comrades falling… right in front of me.")

Sasuke might never admit it out loud, but Naruto knows he considers them friends.

"Still, Jiraiya says. "Do not underestimate Orochimaru. He can be very persuasive. You should keep your friend close. Make sure you're there for him."

Jiraiya looks down, flipping at the pages in the magazine. He's never been the best at advice, so he leaves it at that. Instead, he refocuses his attention on the scantily-clad bikini models in front of him.

"Were you there for Orochimaru?"

Jiraiya pauses at the question, his mind drawn quickly from his fantasies. Something twists in his chest that feels vaguely like shame. "No. I wasn't."

"Do you think it would have changed anything?" Naruto asks. "If you had been?"

Jiraiya thinks of a small face streaked with tears, staring down at a grave. Why does death have to happen, Sensei? He thinks of serpentine eyes, glinting by the light of the campfire. I want to master ninjutsu. And become stronger than anyone.

Jiraiya bows his head. There's a grief in his heart that he rarely allows himself to feel.

"I don't know," he replies. "Maybe."

His eyes go unfocused, lost in memory. Lost in the dozens of instances where he could have offered his teammate a hand, but had chosen instead to ignore the darkness in his eyes. Could I have helped you? Or is this the person you were always meant to become?

Jiraiya frowns, tapping at the page in front of him. Across from the training field where the two of them are sitting, a man with bandages and a walking stick walks by. Jiraiya's eyes sharpen, and he is immediately alert.

Danzo, he thinks, with a furrowed eyebrow and suspicious eyes. Where's he going so late in the afternoon?

Reluctantly, Jiraiya closes his magazine. He stands from the ground, brushing the grass from his lap.

"Sorry, kid. But I gotta go."

Naruto looks at him incredulously. "What? Just like that? Pervy Sage, we were talking!"

He shrugs, his gaze locked on Danzo's disappearing figure. "Sorry, Naruto," he says, throwing the words over his shoulder as he leaves. "But it's important business. We can pick this up later."

Naruto huffs as the man scrambles away. "Important business." He scoffs, yanking up the grass again. "Yeah right. He's probably just going to spy on the ladies' bathhouse again…"

When he hears the scrape of the door opening again, so soon after his brother's departure, Itachi is quick to recompose his face. He is expecting Ibiki, back for another round of mental torture. Perhaps the Hokage.

He is not expecting Danzo Shimura.

His shoulders tense the moment he recognizes the man. His right side is completely wrapped in bandages, his visible eye sharp on Itachi's face. Itachi holds himself still, his face forcibly blank.

Danzo pulls back the chair that Sasuke vacated less than an hour ago. Itachi has to fight against his anger when he finds himself looking at the man—at the bandages covering his right eye.

Shisui's eye.

"Itachi," Danzo says cordially. "Forgive me that it took so long for me to stop by. I admit, I was surprised to hear that the attempt to capture had been a success. I hadn't expected such carelessness from you."

The vision in his right eye is still blurred from his use of Amaterasu—Itachi is certain now that it is permanent. Danzo's features are slightly hazy to him, but no less detestable.

Danzo clearly suspects the truth behind Itachi's capture—that he let it happen willingly, to wake his brother. Otherwise there would be no need to bring it up.

Sure enough, he continues by saying, "This was unwise of you. You have risked everything by allowing yourself to fall into Konoha's hands."

Itachi wishes he could disagree with him. But he can't. He can feel his years of planning unravelling around him, as he tries desperately to hold all of it together. It's been taking every bit of his will to resist Ibiki's mental interrogations—he thinks if he has to suffer through one more session, it might be the one where he finally breaks.

He glances up at the cameras placed in two corners of the room. He doesn't think they record sound—at least, they didn't five years ago—but that could have changed. And most intelligence operatives are trained to read lips.

He keeps his chin low when he speaks, his bangs falling into his face. "I have it handled. It doesn't concern you."

"It concerns Konoha, which automatically makes it concern me. Any truth that you tell—that you are forced to tell—risks the stability of this village."

"You're risking yourself by being here," the Akatsuki member points out. He shoots a pointed glance at one of the cameras.

"I will do what I must," Danzo tells him. "Even if I must bear suspicion."

"What you must," Itachi repeats, and his hands are clenched so tight that his nails draw blood. "You mean like with the Uchiha?"

"The Uchiha's fate was decided. You know this. It was the only option."

Itachi bites down on his tongue. "It was only the only option because you made it so. If you hadn't killed Shisui—"

"I killed Shisui?" Danzo says. "Funny. I was under the impression that it was you who did that."

Itachi's heart twists at the reminder. Shisui holding his eye out with a trusting smile—his body tipping backwards—a sharp pain in his eyes—

"There was a plan in place," he says, banishing the old images from his mind. "The situation was going to be resolved peacefully. You sabotaged that."

Danzo's mouth twists, pulling at the scar on his chin. "Do not be naïve, Itachi. There was never any hope for a peaceful solution. Even if Kotoamatsuki was used to make your father back off, what did you think would happen? That the rest of the Uchiha would simply obediently fall in line?"

Itachi's jaw clenches. He hates that a part of him thinks this man is right. Even if Shisui had succeeded in changing Fugaku's mind, the rest of the clan would never have stood for it.

"It was a risk," he allows. "But that doesn't mean it couldn't have worked."

"No," the bandaged man tells him. "What was a risk was leaving your brother alive. If the truth of what happened to the Uchiha comes out, he will become a threat."

Itachi tenses at the threat in the words. He remembers Danzo's words clearly, the night he gave him the choice of killing the clan: …he will develop a vengeful heart towards the Leaf. And then, unfortunately, he will have to die as well.

He grinds his teeth. He's calculated the possibility of Sasuke discovering the truth; he has contingencies in place for this, as well. If Sasuke ever discovers the truth and turns against Konoha, then Itachi will simply use the eye Shisui bequeathed to him—

But Kotoamatsuki is his final card, not to be used unless absolutely necessary. And he will not let it be known to Danzo, who already has one of Shisui's eyes, and would no doubt love to own a matching set.

"Sasuke is a child," Itachi tells him. "He's no threat."

"He's no younger than you were. Hardly a child. It's safer to simply kill him. Correct the mistake you made that night—"

"We had a deal," Itachi hisses. His voice is a bit shakier than he feels comfortable with, but he can't seem to steady it. "You promised he would be kept safe—"

"I promised," says Danzo, "that he would be unharmed in the culling of your clan. I said nothing of his safety afterwards. It was Hiruzen who guaranteed you that, and he is dead now."

"Yes. He is. But I warned you—go near my brother, and I will leak classified intel to unallied nations—"

"You did warn me," Danzo agrees. "But I don't think you'll really go through with that threat. If you leak that sort of intel, then that will put Konoha in danger. And I don't think that's something you're willing to do. Not when you've already gone so far to protect it."

Itachi clenches his hands in the metal restraints. He can feel the blood of every Uchiha on his skin, forever not washing off. "I killed them to protect my home. I let you live for that same reason. But if you think I would ever—"

"I think, if it meant keeping Konoha safe, then you would sacrifice anything. Even your precious little brother."

Itachi draws back. The words are like a sharp slap in the face.

"Do not be offended," Danzo says. "This world is in need of more shinobi like you. Only those who are willing to sacrifice everything will be able to bring about real change."

Itachi's hands are shaking. He feels sick to his stomach. With just a few words, this man has managed to strip him of his defenses more affectively than any of Ibiki's mental interrogations.

"Touch my brother," he says, struggling to regain his composure, "and I swear, I'll—"

"You will do nothing. I've already called your bluff."

Danzo has wrestled control of this conversation, Itachi realizes. He's twisted it out of Itachi's hands, and it's too late to try and gain it back.

He feels like he's thirteen again, being ensnared in the threads of those around him. He has no power here. He is a child, helplessly tangled in strings of manipulation, and the harder he fights the more they restrict him.

"You will run," Danzo tells him, "before they get a single piece of intel out of you. The truth will remain hidden, and there will be no reason for your brother to be touched. Konoha remains stable, and you may continue with your plans."

Itachi grinds his teeth. It's been a long time since he's felt this much anger. Since he's directed his hatred at something that isn't himself.

"I'm trapped," he says, and getting the words out is like speaking through concrete. He raises his hands, displaying the cuffs. "Even if I agreed, how exactly do you expect—"

Danzo smiles. There's a silver key in his hand—a key that fits perfectly into the locks of the cuffs.

Itachi narrows his eyes sharply. "How did you get that?"

"Not important. What matters is that I have it. The only thing keeping you here is the restraints preventing you from using your chakra. Take them off, and an escape will be easy for someone of your skills."

Itachi says nothing. His nails scrape at the table, the polish on them chipping.

"You have two choices," Danzo says. "Reveal the truth, but doom Konoha in the process. Or you can do what you do best, and keep this village safe at all costs."

He drops the metal key on the table. Itachi stares at it, only inches away from his fingers.

"Once again, it's your call."

Danzo stands up. With those last words, he exits the room. Itachi is left staring down at the table in front of him. His carefully-constructed mask, perfect before the man entered, is now battered and full of cracks.

His words run through Itachi's head, and they sink into his brain like a sickening poison.

("I think, if it meant keeping Konoha safe, then you would sacrifice anything. Even your precious little brother.")

Itachi bites his lip, tasting blood in his mouth. He feels nauseous. You did what you had to, he reminds himself. The only thing you could do.

How many times has he had to say this to himself?

Each time, it feels less like a rationale and more like a desperate self-assurance. If he is doing the right thing, then why does he have to keep repeating the words? Why is he haunted by a nagging sense of despair and self-doubt?

He hates to admit it—refuses to—but sometimes, Itachi thinks that he's playing against himself. It's difficult to remain sure when he suspects that it's his own mistakes and flaws that are ensnaring him. That in trying to protect his brother, it's his own decisions that are driving him toward his downfall.

He isn't sure he knows himself anymore, and it's terrifying.

His hand reaches out, his fingers curling around the key. The metal bites into his palm. He feels oddly detached from himself, and he thinks faintly that there must have been a time when he did not view the world through such a specific lens.

A time when the world didn't seem like an endless game of shogi with an invisible opponent. A time when he hesitated more, when he was much more conscious of his own morals.

These days, Itachi finds himself all too readily crossing the black and white lines. And all too soon, the world seems less defined and more like an ambiguous, dark smudge of charcoal.

Itachi thinks about Sasuke curled up in a corner, shaking like a leaf. The sound of sobbing coming from the other side of the door. He thinks about how badly he wishes he could take it back—and then wonders if he actually would.

If he was given the chance… would he really take it back? Would he really change anything?

No, he realizes, and that's the most shameful truth of all. No, I wouldn't change a thing.

That's the part that kills him to realize—that even if he had somehow foreseen this, Itachi knows he wouldn't have changed any of his decisions, wouldn't have played this any differently. From beginning to end, he would have moved his pieces exactly the same.

He can't second-guess his choices. He doesn't have the luxury to. He's made so many sacrifices that he's become bound by them; obligated by the blood spilled to endure and see that everything will finally come to an end.

Itachi turns his palm up, his eyes locked on the key in his hand. He's left with something that's not quite guilt and not quite regret, but something deeper and darker that unfurls its thorns inside him.

He's left with decisions he wishes he never had to make, but cannot afford to take back.

"He did what?"

Jiraiya winces from Tsunade's loud exclamation. "Went to visit Itachi at the prison. I followed him there. I thought about stopping him, but I decided to wait and see how it played out."

"And he just walked right in? Where the hell was Ibiki?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know, I didn't see him. But he was only in the room for a few minutes."

Tsunade lets out a growl. She slams her fist down onto the desk, causing it to shake. "Damn that man! What is he up to?"

"There are security tapes in the room," Jiraiya tells her. "We can have them looked over. We might not be able to hear what they're saying, but—"

"Get him in here," she demands, her fists shaking at her sides. "I don't care if you have to drag him by the ankles, I want him in this office—"

There's a knock on the office door, and a shinobi in a mask steps into the room. "Hokage-sama?"

Tsunade spins around. "Not now!"

The ANBU member steps into the room anyway. "But it's urgent—"

"Fine," she says in a harsh voice, flicking her hair from her face as she turns to face the masked messenger. "What is it?"

"It's Itachi Uchiha. He's escaped."