edit: i changed ayumi's age in chapter 2. she's now nine years old instead of ten in that chapter.
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when it's over, and the smolder dies,
and the smoke has cleared from our lungs,
we'll build an empire far away from / the ashen ruins of what came before.
(excerpt from "arson" by klr)
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"Oblivion is respite from the sun"
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blink and you'll miss it. (that's the point.)
It's quiet again.
Their cold, grime-ridden fingers thread together and swing loosely between them as they walk through the forest.
They don't speak. There's nothing to say.
Sacchan's glazed eyes are better suited for one of the many corpses they burned. He's sunken into himself and likely won't emerge for some time, but he's alive. He's here with her and that's enough. (It has to be enough.)
Ayumi sways slightly with each step forward. The crunch of dead leaves beneath their feet is loud. She looks ahead to the horizon and keeps her chin up. It's hard to keep her eyes open, to stay awake and vigilant, but she twitches, shoulders hitching up higher and higher with every rustle of tree branches. A falling leaf brushing past her cheek startles her.
She's afraid.
She's scared and cold and so, so tired. She wants to sleep. Wants to finally rest. Wants to close her eyes (-a-n-d- -n-e-v-e-r- -w-a-k-e- -u-p-). Sui-nii is dead and Itoko is gone and she's alone and wHY DID THIS HAPPEN–
Sacchan's hand jerks. Exhaling roughly, she doesn't look at him, just catches glimpses of his profile along the edge of her peripheral.
It would be easy to shut down, to just go away, even for a little. But it's quiet and she knows what can live in the silence.
She rearranges their clumsy fingers and clasps his hand firmer.
There is reluctant comfort to be taken in the ANBU's constant hovering presence. One day, Ayumi promises herself, one day, I'll be stronger than anyone who would dare hurt me, or Sacchan. I won't ever be this weak again. She walks away from the death and doesn't look back. Sacchan continues placidly at her side. (Death follows them, she knows.)
They make it to the apartment and Ayumi spends a moment searching for the key, eventually fishing it out from where it's tucked among cloth wraps. Sacchan blinks in long, drawn out pauses, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. She quickly unlocks the door, nudging it open with a half-hearted kick, and tugs him by the hand inside with her. The door swings shut immediately after.
Trudging to the obscenely over-sized bed, she falls face-first into the bedding. A puff of ash swirled up. Ayumi coughed. There's dry blood on her wrists and palm. It makes her skin sticky and her fingers feel tacky. Sacchan, hand still in hers, pushes the bed against the wall and then collapsed next to her. The same cloud of ash and ground bone shakes itself free from his hair and clothes.
He pulls his knees up to his chest and looks at the wall with unseeing eyes. Ayumi's hand is slack in his. He squeezes it tightly.
She is already fast asleep.
Ayumi becomes aware of the presence hovering over her when a gentle exhale of air blows across her forehead. Eyebrows twitching, she keeps her eyes closed and nuzzles into the pillow at her head. Soothing fingers sink into her hair and softly tug at the loose strands.
"Mm?"
Squinting up, she sees the fuzzy impression of dark hair and dark eyes framed by light from the window. Pink lips pull back into a smile, revealing dimples and straight teeth. A warm finger playfully pinches her exposed cheek.
"Just me."
Reassured, she sleepily tugs the person closer. He laughs, a bright bursting sound that makes her relax, and wraps a warm arm over her waist. Ayumi settles against his chest, lulled back into sleep with the familiar chakra and low, comforting voice of–
"Sleep well, Ayu-hime."
She wakes up intertwined with Sacchan. Their limbs are locked and laced together as if trying to stitch two into one. Her arms are around his waist, face tucked beneath his neck. His hand is over her back, holding her tightly. She detaches from him and sits up in the bed.
Sunlight, dimmed by closed curtains, attempts to pour into the room. Raising a hand to cup her face, Ayumi is unsurprised to find her cheek cold. She turns away from the window and bites the inside of her mouth until it bleeds.
The scent of iron, the bitter taste on her tongue, sends her running to the bathroom. She falls to her knees and hunches over the toilet.
Nothing comes up.
She spits out blood.
The red against white porcelain mocks her even after she flushes it away.
Click.
Her eyes flutter. Ayumi opens her mouth. The medic-nin tilts the flashlight to peer inside. They touch her throat in brisk, detached movements. The sanitary paper on the bed is noisy. Sacchan sits on a chair within the room. He watches the medic-nin's hands and doesn't blink.
When the medic-nin is finished examining her, Sacchan and her switch places. The bottom of his shirt is lifted up and the medic-nin places a hand flat to Sacchan's bare back. Sacchan stiffens. Once his heart has been checked, he pulls away from the touch. The medic-nin doesn't protest.
Ayumi can breathe when Sacchan is within reach again.
Where he belongs.
Therapy sessions are the only time Ayumi and Sasuke separate.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she feels.
Ayumi says nothing.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she sleeps.
Ayumi says nothing.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she's doing.
Ayumi says nothing.
The therapist mentions her brother and Ayumi. Does. Not. Care.
She thinks of Sacchan instead. Sinks into her skin, the safe place where she can go away, and remembers a meadow burnished gold at sunset. Green fireflies and red koi-fish and blue ponds. Festival lights and warm mochi, gooey on her tongue. She sees Sacchan's smile and hears their mingled laughter.
Ayumi doesn't think of her brother, or his.
She doesn't care. She doesn't.
Dreams are a type of pleasantness only suited for the innocent, and even as a child— her Hokage-mandated therapist insists she is still a child, by technicality, at the very least —she had never truly been innocent. She knew her place as an Uchiha. Knew her future too, born to become a shinobi like all those before her.
The Massacre scraped her clean and raw, scooped everything from the marrow of her bones and discarded the shell. Her sleep is corrupt with writhing worms and endless holes of twisted memories- not dreams, never dreams -more horrific than anything a civilian mind can imagine. She sees her brother's body, bloated and waterlogged. The dark curls she would weave into little braids are limp. His handsome face is disfigured; where are his eyes? who did this?
Red hellfire shines in the lipstick applied to Oba-san's mouth and the crimson pigment (becomes a coat of blood spray, not paint) smeared on a displayed Uchiwa fan. A monster-cousin's gaze glows with damnation; the gleam of the blade pressed to her throat blinds her. Long hair creeps up her nose and into her screaming mouth, it matches the too-tight funeral clothing. There is grey ash on the cold hand clinging to hers, the same color of stone in the barren courtyard burying them up to their necks.
She thrashes in restraints, trapped to a white hospital bed with only Sui-nii's smile and the bodies of her blood piled on the floor. Streets run rivers of red and the sun is made of smoke. Holding Sacchan's hand, they watch their family burn.
How could any of this be a dream?
Sometimes, Sacchan is so still while sitting, sleeping, existing; she wonders if he's dead too.
It's hard to tell anymore, what's real or not.
Bad nights are sleepless. Heat and brimstone. Fire on her face, eating at her hair and skin. She can't bear the cold for long.
The good days are sparse. Times when they forget to be afraid. Moments shared over a pot of jasmine tea, or across the small dining table. They curl together in the bed and it's nice. Quiet snippets of peace.
They never last long.
The bad days just get worse.
A month, maybe two, after completing the rites, they walk past a barbecue place near the main streets. Ayumi blanches, stomach rolling as she stumbles back into the shadows. Sacchan and her watch through the window while red, glistening meat is plated. Grease glimmers in oily pools on the ceramic dishes. It smells good.
She almost throws up. Swallowing the reflexive gag, she doesn't bring a palm up to cover her mouth like she wants to. Ayumi wants to look away, wants to run home and never touch meat again, wants to take the easy way out and escape.
Her jaw locks stubbornly and she pulls her shoulders back. Sacchan drifts with her into the restaurant. She breathes shallowly as they wait for their order to be done. Sacchan tugs the bag from her and holds it out in front of him as they walk back to the apartment. Dividing the heaping portions, they sit at the table and bow their heads briefly. Ayumi brings the meat to her lips and chews the tough gristle, forcing it down her throat.
Ayumi is an Uchiha and she is not weak.
She throws everything back up hours later and shakes over the toilet bowl.
When Sacchan knocks on the door and kneels beside her, she doesn't bother telling him to leave.
Three bottles of medication.
Three little pills to be taken every morning and night.
Green. Red. Blue.
Ayumi swallows them day after day for half a year without hesitation.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she feels.
Ayumi shrugs.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she sleeps.
Ayumi shrugs.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she's doing.
Ayumi shrugs.
The therapist mentions her brother and Ayumi looks away.
Ayumi returns to the Academy. She never noticed how small everyone was before. Their stares are curious, not cruel. She ignores them. Ayumi is good at that.
"What type should we get?"
Sacchan peered seriously over the choices on the shelf at her quiet question. He carried the empty shopping bag. They picked their items and went to the register.
The shop owner gives them a nervous smile. "Here," he hands them the groceries. "No payment needed."
Ayumi gazes at him. She puts the correct amount of money down. Sacchan picks up the bag.
They don't visit that store again.
"Itadakimasu."
"Hn."
He eats the tomatoes on his plate carefully. There's a pleased tilt to his lips. Ayumi pats his head once. He's eight now and almost eye-level with her.
She takes her medication dutifully each day.
Green. Red. Blue.
It's helping, she thinks (-h-o-p-e-s-).
Her fingers curl beneath his shirt to touch bird-like ribs, seeking the warmth of Sacchan's chest. He makes a little sound and nuzzles further into the crook of her neck, breath hot against her exposed skin. Ayumi blinks up at the ceiling to get her bearings and try to dispel the smell of burning, rotten flesh.
Shaking her head, she retracts her hand and pulls the covers off to slowly slide from the bed. Sacchan shifts onto his back. She watches him before leaving the dark room to get ready for class.
Sacchan's first day at the Academy comes and goes. The lunch bento has meat. It's good. (Green, red, blue.) She waits outside, in the shade of the big tree, for him after. They walk back to the apartment together.
"Yumi."
It's her birthday.
"Ah."
She unwraps the pretty cloth and removes the fan from the box with both hands. It's beautiful. Ayumi touches the delicate flower petals painted on sharp edges. Her eyes gleam.
The anniversary is coming up.
She flushes the pills down the toilet.
Blue. Red. Green.
Ayumi didn't need them anymore. She's fine.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she feels.
Ayumi doesn't say much.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she sleeps.
Ayumi shifts a shoulder.
The therapist asks Ayumi how she's doing.
Ayumi stares until they ask about the Academy. She nods then.
The therapist doesn't mention her brother. Ayumi looks out the window and sees black curls.
The bathroom mirror breaks. It's a little (lot) of both their faults. They never get around to replacing it.
(Reflection. It's not always what, or who, you expect it to be.)
An ANBU brings another one, likely thinking they've forgotten. That mirror gets broken too.
The wall above the sink remains smooth.
Sacchan is late coming home from the Academy one day. She's fine.
(When did she start thinking of the apartment as home?)
Ayumi's learned to hide what cannot be changed.
Loud noises make her go still now, instead of flinch. She can bear Sacchan's touch, doesn't shake when she feels his arms around her waist or their legs intertwined. Anger steels the fear set within her spine. There is always a sharp pin in her hair, tucked in sleeves and shoes; kunai and shuriken hidden in the folds of clothign; wire wrapped around her waist.
The last hospital visit and therapy session result in one new prescription of medication.
Ayumi smiles as she dumps it down the drain. The swirl is purple.
She's fine.
Ayumi does not dream.
But it's been two years and she still smells the smoke from that night.
She can't remember her brother's eyes unless she has a photograph to trace. (Or looks in a mirror.)
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"Tadaima."
Sasuke closed the door behind him. Yumi doesn't reply, but that's not out of the ordinary. He steps out of his shoes and bends to put them on the rack that only has one other pair of shoes. Now wearing slippers, he pads further into the apartment.
Yumi's back is to him. Her chakra is turbulent, fluid as ever. She looks out the window like she often does.
"Yumi," he whispers.
She turns suddenly from the window and freezes. Her eyes are wide and red and terrified. They dart away from his to his chin when their eyes connect. She trembles and a sob swells his throat shut at the sight. "Itoko." Yumi's eyelashes twitch like she wants to look away, but she doesn't. Just keeps staring through him.
Not for the first time, he has the urge to take a kunai to his face, the eyes so similar to that man's.
(Reflection. Sometimes you only see others, instead of yourself.)
"Yumi. It's me. Sacchan. It's Sacchan."
She doesn't move.
He keeps speaking until his throat is sore, hoping she can read the conviction on his mouth.
"Yucchan, please."
She blinks. The red fades.
"Sasuke."
He shudders and stumbles forward to hug her. She lets him. His hand found hers as he gently wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. They stay like that until the sun sinks beneath the trees.
notes:
sasuke's birthday - july 23rd (fire sign: leo)
ayumi's birthday - oct 24th (air/mainly water sign: a libra-scorpio cusp)
itadakimasu - thanks for the meal
tadaima - i'm home
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next update will be an omake chapter, then halloween special~
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did you have a favorite scene in the time-skip?