Among many things, Itachi contemplates Sasuke's recently discovered empathy, alongside an eight year old Naruto suddenly becoming a significant presence in Sasuke's life.
...
II. Shigoto no Ato ni
There came a time his mother and father would call him a gentle child, behind closed doors, would dote on him as an exceedingly precocious child, the very source of their pride and joy, their only child, a time Itachi scarcely remembers, too brief a period of calm, before the set of unrest quietly growing in the world around him.
There came a time his family celebrated him as a promising child, throughout the recent history of the Uchiha family, at the age of three, to develop empathy, the youngest child, the next prodigy, certain to surpass in magical ability even his cousin Shisui, a time Itachi remembers being praised simply for wielding the rarest kind of magic.
There also came a time he ceased to be a child, outgrew the purview of those around him, sought more beyond the legacy of those before him, while he continued to uphold his family's aspirations without complaint, as he continued to excel in his studies, in magic, commended by his instructors, further distanced from his peers.
It was a time he remembers observing even then, the beginnings of a gradual shift among those in the magic user community, bred from years of a near assured complacency, even among the most prominent families, bubbled by their own prosperity, a wilful ignorance to the stirrings of disquiet, what would slowly amass as the next iteration of anti-magic sentiment, would eventually organise into an underground movement, nearly two decades later would proclaim itself the latest incarnation of Root.
Far too shrewd for his age, emboldened by his own naiveté, he became impatient, began to pose too many questions, too often told not to concern himself with such immaterial things; although his parents occasionally did try to allay his unease, it seemed very few others would entertain his apprehensions. Yet while he allowed himself to appear placated, inwardly, he remained restless, with his own accomplishments grew unfulfilled, found no satisfaction in becoming a political prospect to help ensure his family's continued sway within the Alliance.
No longer mired in a once absolute devotion, he became disillusioned with ideals no more than distorted notions from a time long gone, a truth exposed by those who would exert their positions in the Alliance freely, who would use their name in the pursuit of power, would all but flaunt their status, in the face of even rational, albeit minority opposition, would be so blatant in regards to their own bias.
However, it was also during an era when unbridled ambitions took centre stage, ran unchecked against established norms, from seemingly all sectors, both within and outside the magic user community, unprecedented, a surge of contenders suddenly vying for the most prominent positions within the Alliance on all levels, be it state, military, or academic.
At best, it'd later be considered a pivotal moment for modern day magic user rights and the struggle against magic user discrimination. At worst, it was abject political theatre, a narrative often provoked by radical new actors propelled by their own self-interests, and yet somehow it seemed even more egregious to see it for himself, the duplicity so prevalent within his own family.
Not everyone, though. Not Shisui.
He didn't have much of a relationship with Shisui prior, but his increasingly reclusive behaviour had drawn Shisui's attention, or rather, his behaviour was considered at odds with his family's expectations, and Shisui, already deemed the pinnacle of what of every Uchiha should be, only five years his senior, was persuaded to keep an eye on him.
Instead, Shisui became a mentor. Shisui became his brother. He was someone Itachi grew to trust, not only as someone who entertained his apprehensions regarding the shifting dynamics in their family, but one of the few people who also shared his concerns, also noticed the gradual tension marking their family's increasingly aggressive political gambit, worried about the consequences of a vaulting ambition, the kind of self-serving, hidebound mentality inherently opposed to the very principles that have been advocated by the Alliance since its inception, after the Second Great War.
To sustain those values that have had such a fundamental impact on magic user rights, the precursor to what would legally sanction magic users as people, a simple recognition not guaranteed by their existence alone—values he so strongly believed in, still believes in, to continue to ensure them, potentially at the expense of his own family's power and influence in the Alliance...
Therein lay the source of Itachi's mounting turmoil, what would highlight many of the conversations he held with Shisui.
"These ideals we fight for, Itachi, our sense of integrity, the core of what shapes us as people, they're defined by what we believe in. And if we all have different beliefs, well, who's to dictate what's truly right or wrong?"
"But that doesn't mean there's no line. Isn't that what society dictates, whether or not something crosses the threshold between right and wrong?"
"In some instances, yeah, it probably is the case. Yet even then, it still depends on the kind of society, where or even when that society is, because morality is highly subjective. And societies have a tendency to change."
"...then, why should we adhere to such outdated beliefs, these ideals our name supposedly stands for, when we're so far removed from what our family once helped fight for, the very right for people like us to exist, that we've become so ignorant and prejudiced to anything that may rightfully challenge how we perceive ourselves now?"
"Unfortunately, I don't have an answer for that, either. But while it might not always be so clear, what I do know, is that the depth of those beliefs has made us stronger. That's how our legacy was forged. It preserves the bonds created between us, beliefs that have held our family together for so long, why our name continues to protect us, in a world where there are people who will always believe our mere existence to be wrong.
"Even though our family has a longstanding history with the Alliance, the struggle for power has been a recurring theme. It ebbs and flows with time. Yet as significant as that relationship is, for some of us, our beliefs become misguided. Our motivations become opportunistic. For some of us, we lose sight of what we once fought for. We forget what it means to survive, what we're still fighting for.
"By the same token, to preserve the legacy of who we were then, to acknowledge who we are now, to remind us who we strive to be, sometimes, it takes personal sacrifice. Even if it puts you in the shadows, it takes putting the name Uchiha above yourself. And for the sake of those who will come after us, it takes putting the needs of this family above your own."
So many of their conversations he didn't fully comprehend, underlying Shisui's unequivocal devotion to their family, Shisui's words many times tinged with a self-reproach Itachi so often thought oddly misplaced.
And then there came Sasuke.
Itachi was ten, when he became a big brother, when he first held Sasuke in his arms, the first time he began to truly grasp just how strangely fickle, how extraordinarily fragile life could be.
When it finally began to dawn upon him, in that singular moment, unnerving the realisation, watching a yawning Sasuke, dark eyes closed, pale cheeks blotchy, the tiniest little fist refusing to release Itachi's sleeve—to suddenly be responsible for another life, to have someone wholly dependent on him, how so very small Sasuke looked cradled in his arms, frightened him, a realisation that consumed him, how so very easily all of it, everything in that one moment, could be taken away.
Because then he realised he was culpable of the same kind of insular thinking he'd been so quick to condemn others for, effectively sheltered from the harshness of a world he was once foolish enough to believe he understood—the nature of the world swathed in moral ambiguity Shisui had been trying to teach him, trying to help him see with his own eyes, past his own convictions, so much larger than what he'd been exposed to, the certainties not promised to those who lived in the world outside of what he only knew.
If it weren't for the opportunities that had been presented to him, afforded to him the very protections ingrained simply because of his name, as a magic user, the simplest privilege he had admittedly taken for granted, the accumulation of sacrifice from those before him, the significance of a legacy that already ensured his own future, already strengthened to secure a better future for Sasuke.
And yet in that very same moment, as he watched Sasuke fall asleep in his arms, just as suddenly, he desired nothing more than to shield Sasuke from all of it, despite the very high probability Sasuke would inherent magic, born into their family, inherently bound by the heightened expectations attached to their name, silently vowed he would do as much as was in his power to prevent Sasuke from following the path he himself hadn't been able to avoid.
For the sake of his little brother, in that one singular moment, he hadn't hesitated, when he decided he would ultimately place Sasuke's welfare above the needs of their family, at his own expense, perhaps, even to a certain extent, would place Sasuke's welfare above the needs of the Alliance.
Already there was increasing speculation surrounding Sasuke, seemingly from nearly everyone who had so closely monitored Itachi, somewhat alarming, the amount of vested interest in the potential of Mikoto and Fugaku's second son, surely another prodigy among the Uchiha family, another Itachi.
Unlike Itachi, however, at the age of three, Sasuke showed no signs of empathy.
Initially, it was characterised as a momentary delay, thought to have little bearing on whether or not Sasuke would even present as a magic user.
Eventually, though, it became a trend.
The next year, during Sasuke's first professional assessment at four, his lack of empathy was still considered average within the realm of normal development; most children tended to develop empathy around five, no later than six, and the much smaller possibility that Sasuke wouldn't develop empathy at all remained a possibility that was given very little thought.
Three years later, even allowing for the very high improbability of Sasuke developing empathy past the age of six, there were no indicators that would suggest Sasuke would have empathy, and, therefore, would eventually develop the ability to use magic—this, despite the notably high proportion of magic users within their family, as rare as it is to have magical ability.
Within the magic community, their family is one of the oldest, most distinguished families, with records establishing their presence before the First Great War, well before their name was changed from Uchiwa. Following the course of centuries, their lineage has produced some of the most powerful fire users throughout history, with the average magic user often ranking on the higher end of the spectrum, in terms of both empathy and magical ability.
In that regard, certainly, there is a sense of disappointment surrounding Sasuke's inability to continue in that tradition, as so many in their family have done; and although none of it has been specifically directed towards Sasuke, among some, Sasuke's lack of empathy has become a superficial concern, in the form of thinly veiled attempts to cast doubts on their father's capabilities as one of the leaders in their family, one of the few in a small group officially recognised by the Alliance.
Being part of such an extensive and prominent family, holding one of the most elevated titles, held under constant scrutiny, his father is very much in a coveted position of power—power that many already have tried to appropriate for themselves, attempts that, to a degree, have often been offset simply by his father having an accomplished son.
It's nothing particularly novel, a reality his father had impressed upon him early in life, when he first began to have reservations about their family's relationship with the Alliance; regardless of his opinion on the matter, though he's yet to even claim such responsibility, he's still viewed as Uchiha Fugaku's de facto successor, a burden he's resigned himself to bear, if only so it won't fall to Sasuke.
And it's along that reasoning, after discovering Sasuke wouldn't develop empathy, wouldn't become a magic user, as selfish as Itachi knew it to be, he allowed himself a moment of earnest relief—to know his little brother would be further spared those obligations brought alongside the name Uchiha, as a magic user, simply due to the nature of their family's status, expectations Sasuke would've otherwise been beholden to, unremitting standards Itachi still finds himself subjected to, standards still pitting him against Shisui.
Nine weeks ago, Sasuke showed no potential for empathetic ability.
Until nine weeks ago, Itachi foolishly allowed himself to believe Sasuke's lack of empathy would help ensure Sasuke would remain unaware—the truth of their world too many times unkind, intertwined with ideologies often only permitted by necessity, to hide this from the eyes of his little brother, to shield Sasuke from this reality, that would be how Itachi protected their family's name.
Resting his head against the wall, he extends his legs a little, knees bent upright, as he relaxes into the plush cushions beneath him. He grunts at the knee momentarily digging into his thigh, the weight shifting across his lap, before Sasuke settles against him with a soft sigh, small limbs seemingly draped over him every which way.
Rather than try to fit on the bed too small for the seventeen year old he is, on nights like these, Itachi prefers to make himself comfortable on the generous, two-person sofa, for the sole purpose of having somewhere to sleep in Sasuke's room, however uncomfortable sleeping in the chair ultimately still proves to be; although Sasuke essentially has an entire floor to himself, the rooms themselves are designed for children, relatively large, yet in Sasuke's case, predominantly occupied by medical equipment, with scarcely any space remaining to bring in a cot that wouldn't fit Itachi, anyway.
Despite recent efforts to transition Sasuke from an increasingly unhealthy dependence on him, on nights like these, nights when Sasuke will lie awake waiting for his arrival, but doesn't wait to greet him at the door, swamped in Itachi's old trainee-issued jacket, lips pursed, dark eyes rimmed red, slightly blurred, thin white blanket clutched in one hand, his other hand already outstretched for Itachi to take, breath hitched when Itachi gently takes the small hand in his own.
Nights like these, nights too many since he's returned to Nagi on temporary leave, he knows it means Sasuke didn't have a good day, so he does what he can to appease his little brother, allows Sasuke to lead him to the sofa, the moment he sits, Sasuke already climbing on to his lap, already curled and wrapped around him, when Itachi adjusts the thin blanket over him.
"...do you want to talk about what you did today?"
Against Itachi's shoulder, Sasuke gives a vehement shake of his head.
"Do you want to talk about how you're feeling now?"
Sasuke repeats the gesture.
"Aren't you uncomfortable sitting like this?"
Once more, Sasuke shakes his head.
"Does that mean you're going to hold on to me forever?"
At this, Sasuke nods his head, and Itachi smiles a little, indulges his own soft amusement at the small hands fisting the material of his shirt, Sasuke doing his best trying to burrow into him, small arms trying to bring Itachi closer.
Before having empathy, Sasuke had always been selectively conversational, anyway, but now, and especially in the aftermath of an episode, sometimes, Sasuke simply prefers the quiet, when it's simply the two of them, slowly lets himself relax, pressed against Itachi's chest, soothed by the sound of Itachi's breathing.
With Sasuke like this, he doesn't expect much in the way of conversation, and curtails his own curiosity that would've typically had him further press a less than forthcoming Sasuke for answers.
As taxing as Sasuke's episodes are, both mentally and physically, Iyashi's maintained that Sasuke's resulting anxiety is a normal response, and a symptom that has to be treated progressively, but he's also stressed the importance of preventing Sasuke from going into further emotional withdrawal, while still being mindful of Sasuke's comfort level at any given time.
From what Iyashi's determined, at this stage in Sasuke's empathy development, the more Sasuke tries to detach himself from his emotions, the more susceptible he becomes to his empathy, and the higher the risk of him having an empathetic attack, since Sasuke seems equally affected by the emotions of others, as much as his own, simply because his empathy does allow him to feel so strongly.
The compromise is what Iyashi has termed dailies.
(It isn't the most creative name, perhaps taken too literally, derived from the insisted frequency of its purpose, which is to be implemented on a daily basis; although considering Iyashi's candid, almost blasé demeanour, it's a term suitably appropriate nonetheless.)
Dailies serve as an active measure to gauge Sasuke's emotional health, based on a less confrontational approach that encourages him to become more comfortable acknowledging his emotions, instead of trying to avoid them altogether.
More importantly, they're part of the foundation towards helping Sasuke build his own emotional barriers, which Sasuke can only do by willingly reconnecting with his emotions.
At its core, the effectiveness of giving Sasuke dailies relies heavily on being consistently reinforced, supplemental to Sasuke's therapy sessions. And so far, it has been successful, to the point where Sasuke no longer needs to be held under constant medical supervision.
It's only been a month since Iyashi began to advise them how to gradually incorporate dailies into regular conversation, without having the questions appear as an interrogation, and yet, between the three of them, he and his parents have been able to seamlessly establish dailies as a normal part of Sasuke's everyday routine.
Sasuke's usually given them towards the end of the night, sometimes also during the day, however often, depending on his mood. While overall an assessment of Sasuke's emotional state, in effect, it's a combined technique to help him practice mindfulness: alternating between asking very simple, unobtrusive questions, and providing affirmations whenever Sasuke is more receptive to his emotions, in order to promote positive associations, reassuring Sasuke that it's okay to feel those emotions.
He glances down when Sasuke shifts, as the grip on his shirt loosens.
"Are you feeling better?"
Sasuke's left shoulder rises and drops in a small shrug.
"Did Iyashi say something to upset you?"
"...I don't want to go back," is the murmur into Itachi's shoulder, Sasuke's fingers lightly tugging on Itachi's shirt.
"Do you think seeing Iyashi hasn't been helping you?"
Sasuke lifts his head, peering at Itachi with a near frown, brow scrunched. "No, Iyashi, he...I told you he feels safe now. And he's helped me a lot, but I still don't like when he asks me to talk about it."
"You don't like when he asks you to talk about your empathy?"
"He keeps saying I'm doing better, but what if it happens again? What if I can't—"
Sasuke lowers his head, resting it again over Itachi's shoulder, both hands tightening their grip on Itachi's shirt. He breathes in sharp, swallows, breathes out as soon as his chest falls, shallow breaths that become quicker, as his body starts to tremble, still pressed against Itachi, unable to bring himself any closer.
Eventually, his shaking begins to subside, at Itachi's hand gently running along his back, Sasuke's chest falling slowly, as his body relaxes with another inhale, his breathing slowed, even, fingers once more unfurling from Itachi's shirt, again curled into fists, grip turned loose.
The likelihood of Sasuke suffering another episode, unquestionably, it's high. There's nothing Itachi can say or do to assure Sasuke otherwise. Worse, there's nothing to indicate when another attack will occur, or what specifically may cause it, seemingly that arbitrary in nature.
Fortunately, the considerable progress Sasuke's made in a relatively short period, at least it's had some bearing on the magnitude of his most recent episodes, which means the only recourse, is to focus on the continued development of Sasuke's emotional barriers.
Despite the many variances within the professional study of empathy and magic use, it is generally accepted that, when a child begins to develop empathy, defined as the level of sensitivity to emotions, their empathy develops gradually, which allows a child's natural emotional barriers to develop in tandem with their empathy.
Sasuke doesn't have that innate defence mechanism. His empathy came unexpected, abrupt. And because it came so suddenly, Iyashi believes Sasuke wasn't given the time to develop those conventional protections that have become so well associated with empathy; in his experience, even among the cases of children who do fall behind the normal development curve, discovering empathy at a later age, he's admitted it's much more a matter of how long it takes a child's empathy to fully develop, rather than whether or not those natural barriers are still being retained.
The first time Sasuke suffered an empathetic attack, before anyone truly knew what it was, Itachi had been stationed off world, on assignment in Naus, one of the military's more remote satellite bases, already a year out from the Academy, officially enlisted, preparing for his second year in the SFTI programme.
He'd been assigned to a small, rotating unit, the four of them designated as acting tactical combat instructors over the summer months, overseeing trainees from various academies throughout the Alliance.
It was their second week on location, but he remembers being particularly aggravated by the heat that morning, as windy as it was, kicking up sand in seemingly every crack and crevice, in their equipment, in his clothes, too much sand all but fused by sweat to his skin.
(For anyone stationed there, the running joke was that Naus only had one season: too goddamn hot.
As a mandatory training post, Naus was inevitable for any cadet, regardless of their academy, more than earning its reputation as the Shit Stop. For enlisted personnel forced to return, it was affectionately known as the BFE, a miserable desert environment, purposely utilised to inure trainees to harsh, nearly intolerable conditions.)
He also remembers being particularly annoyed with his batch of trainees, far too idle on the field, yet with no shortage of complaints about the weather, most of them save for Cadet Haruno, the only one who showed any promising initiative, a great deal of it; she came from Jushin, one of the smaller, lesser-known academies, classed as a B-rank earth user, although, apparently, she'd already applied for the med track.
It was almost a relief, when Sai told him he was being called into the communications tent, a brief respite he didn't mind taking advantage of. He took his time, took a more scenic route that still led him there rather quickly, lifting one of the tent's large flaps and heading inside.
Why his superior had requested him, however, relaying a message from his mother, it was the last thing he'd ever expect, because back home, back on Nagi, at the Capital, nothing was supposed to happen to Sasuke.
Without having empathy, without having magic, somehow, the thought of anything happening to Sasuke didn't factor in.
And yet without warning, he'd collapsed during class. He'd had some kind of fit, was apparently still having them, although they didn't appear to be seizures, because he was in pain severe enough that he wasn't allowing anyone to touch him.
Despite the numerous advances in medicine, how quickly the majority of ailments actually could be treated, after two days, still, no one could pinpoint what was wrong, nowhere near a diagnosis that would explain why Sasuke seemed to be in a near constant state of debilitating levels of physical pain.
Immediately, he applied for emergency leave. The turnaround time was quicker than he'd expected, most likely aided by the fact his mother's message had actually been transmitted a day prior, and the communications office, for whatever reason, was running on at least a twelve-hour delay.
He didn't know the reason for the mishap, especially considering the communications office was responsible for the only accessible lines able to make contact outside of Naus, but rather than dwell on why the office hadn't been alerted to the message earlier, he occupied himself by coordinating his leave.
Within two hours, his request was granted. While searching for a replacement suitable to take on his trainees, he was able to secure transportation. By the end of the night, he was leaving Naus, on a flight home.
From the time his mother had sent the message, since Sasuke had been admitted to Reife, it'd taken Itachi three days to return to Nagi.
Three days too long.
His father met him at the door to the isolated ward where Sasuke was staying, preventing him from rushing in. He stood to his full height, stood rigid, yet appeared haggard before him, as if he hadn't slept in those same three days, posture slightly uneven, his clothes noticeably wrinkled and worn, even his tie in uncharacteristic disarray.
It was a peculiar image, made peculiar still by his father's rare display of uncertainty, echoed by the hesitation in his voice.
"Before you..."
"How bad is it?"
"Nothing's changed. No one can tell us what's wrong. At this point, your mother and I, we don't know what to do, but Sasuke..."
"What about Sasuke?"
"You need to prepare yourself, Itachi."
On the flight home, his parents had tried to warn him, during video calls, did their best to keep him informed.
The sedatives still weren't having any effect. Sasuke would still scream himself hoarse, as much as his lungs would allow, parch his throat, to the extent he'd become dehydrated. He was still refusing to eat, refusing to drink, thrashing so much, he kept ripping out his IV line. He was even refusing to sleep, trying to keep himself awake.
Inevitably, he would fall asleep, and sometimes, a nurse would use the opportunity to reinsert his IV line, although as soon as anyone tried to approach him, Sasuke would wake up screaming.
As an intervention, the use of physical restraints had been suggested, but his parents both agreed it was too excessive, even as a last resort. If anything, based on Sasuke's reactions to even the notion of physical contact, it'd only serve to make Sasuke's discomfort worse.
And yet it still didn't prepare Itachi.
As long strides took him past his father, as he opened the door to the ward, walking toward Sasuke's room, as the commotion muffled in the background suddenly became louder, disturbing, all too clear, nothing would've been able to sufficiently prepare him.
Never before had he seen his little brother in such agony, so very small against the stark white of the bed, even smaller surrounded by doctors and nurses and medical aides, hyperventilating, absolutely terrified, as he tried to push away from any kind of touch, a multitude of hands trying to comfort him, trying to hold him still, screams torn from him ragged, the most harrowing sound, among too many voices trying to soothe him, a handful of voices back and forth reading his vital signs aloud.
In his haste, he barely recognised his mother, as he passed her, as he made his way to Sasuke, moving everyone else aside, paying no heed to his parents' warnings, as Sasuke moved to reach for him, simply reached down to take Sasuke in his arms.
Immediately, Sasuke stopped screaming, immediately latched on to Itachi, small arms reached around him, the beat of his heart erratic, fingers clinging desperately to the folds of Itachi's shirt, as Itachi lowered himself to the small bed, Sasuke burying his head into Itachi's chest, through shuddering breaths, soft murmurs of niisan a seemingly endless refrain, as Itachi gently hushed him, gently began to rock him, his own whispers repeated soft assurances of I'm here, until Sasuke's exhaustion finally took hold.
As Sasuke slept, the rest of the room gave way to quiet, looked upon them. His mother stood beside him, as his father walked through the door, stood beside her, despite nearly palpable their relief, still uncertain, their expressions weary and drawn.
How he was able to calm Sasuke, why he seemed to be the apparent exception, what separated him even from their parents, he didn't know.
Not even the doctors knew. Among the specialists consulted, many brought in from outside Reife, considered the best of the best, bar none—a week later, still, none of them could determine was what wrong.
It wasn't until the following day, while observing Sasuke's behaviour around Itachi, that Sasuke's paediatrician, Doctor Tate, said she was going to recommend a referral to Iyashi, who was one of the foremost authorities on childhood empathy development.
Honestly, at the time, it did seem like a bit of a stretch, contradicted for years what they've been told. At seven, Sasuke still hadn't shown any of the traditional indicators for either empathy or magical ability; in regards to that particular issue, he'd already been seen by many different experts, and each of those experts, knowing both Sasuke's history and their family's history, came to the same conclusions.
However, Itachi and his parents truly were at a loss, as to what steps they should take next. While it didn't seem the most viable option, it certainly wouldn't hurt, for Sasuke to see Iyashi. Doctor Tate also went in depth to explain what she knew of Iyashi's research; referencing journals she'd read chronicling the types of situations Iyashi typically dealt with, his experience with very rare cases that initially presented as outliers; and directed them to additional resources they could explore.
The only problem, with Iyashi being in such a highly specialised field, was whether or not he'd be willing to personally take on Sasuke's case.
Fortunately, it took little convincing.
It certainly wasn't cynical to believe their name may have had some influence on Iyashi's decision, because people have used their name before, to further their own interests, but it also seemed that Iyashi was more so motivated by his own academic curiosity, as intrigued as he was sceptical; the conditions surrounding Sasuke's seemingly sudden attacks, alongside the apparent intensity Sasuke suffered through them, what Iyashi would later attribute to Sasuke's empathy, frankly, it was unheard of.
A few days later, during the follow-up appointment to that initial consultation, Iyashi theorised Sasuke had an exceptionally high level of empathy, so much so, that it couldn't be fully measured by the original Suzuki Scale, although he couldn't resolve why Sasuke still lacked any corresponding magical ability.
With Iyashi agreeing to take on a principal role in Sasuke's care team, much of what he proposed as a comprehensive treatment plan for Sasuke remained largely experimental, because Iyashi had never come across anything even vaguely comparable to Sasuke's situation, as confident as he did seem in his ability to help Sasuke manage his empathy.
It began with family therapy sessions, whenever their parents could make time to attend, since Itachi's request for extended leave had been cleared; due to the extenuating circumstances, he was allowed an indefinite stay, with Nagi officially listed as his temporary deployment, provided he could fulfil the duties assigned to him.
It continued with cognitive and behavioural exercises tailored specifically for Sasuke, constantly tweaked to better assess Sasuke's evolving needs. Gradually, without needing Itachi to act as an emotional buffer, Sasuke became more comfortable around other people, although at a time, at most one or two, and that eventually led to the one-on-one sessions Sasuke's able to have with Iyashi now.
Sasuke may be too young to fully appreciate Iyashi's more direct method of approach, but Iyashi's been remarkably astute; while he doesn't necessarily have the most expressive personality, especially considering his expertise, without trying to coddle Sasuke, Iyashi simply has a way of pushing him to identify and confront his emotions, teaching Sasuke how to cope with his empathy, without overwhelming him.
"It's not so bad having empathy anymore, but sometimes, when Iyashi says to pick something, and try to think about how it makes me feel, I just...what happened last week, I don't want to go through that again."
"It's okay not to like talking about it."
"...I know. That's what Iyashi says, too."
"And it's okay to be scared."
Sasuke swallows, shaking his head against Itachi's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, as he breathes in deeply, relaxes, breathing out with a soft sigh.
"What about the rest of your day?"
"...it was quiet."
"That's good."
Turning his head, Sasuke opens his eyes, with a quick glance towards the bedside table, where a small model ship's on display, next to a homemade card, the background coloured bright orange, with large characters simply written in dark blue, reading the words Hope you get well soon. "...I got to see Naruto today."
"You did?"
"Mm." Sasuke gives a slight nod. "He couldn't stay long this time, because he has to get ready for his class trip to the aquarium, but it was still nice being able to see him. He even said he was going to take pictures for me. And maybe one day we can go back to visit together—did you know Naruto's dad used to be a fighter pilot?"
"Oh?"
"Yeah, just like you're going to be. And Naruto wants to be one, too. Just like me. That's why he's letting me keep his ship. Oh, and then we both decided we're going to the Academy. Although we probably won't be in the same class, because he'll get to go there first, since he's older than me."
"It sounds like you have a lot in common."
"We do."
"Is that why you like when Naruto visits?"
"Well, it's not just that, even if he is a little too loud sometimes, but also because Naruto, he...Naruto's like you. And when Naruto's around, it doesn't...
"...I know my empathy won't hurt anymore."
The word safe is how Sasuke's come to define the people in his life, his world suddenly so much smaller, in terms of who it doesn't hurt him to be around, a circle that's expanded beyond Itachi to encompass their parents, Iyashi, most of Sasuke's care team, as well, gradually extending to Kushina and Minato.
However, initially, that circle wasn't limited to Itachi.
It happened to include Naruto, too.
Perhaps, in this particular situation, it shouldn't be so surprising, how quickly Sasuke and Naruto were drawn together, how easily they were able to develop that level of mutual attachment seemingly overnight.
He's not sure what it means, not yet, but he also doesn't quite think it coincidence.
It is curious, though, that Naruto does have such a significant impact on Sasuke, from the onset of Sasuke's empathy, had the ability to immediately calm Sasuke by his presence alone, seemingly the only other person able to do so.
Before that day Sasuke collapsed in school, despite past attempts by their mothers to prove the contrary, he and Naruto weren't friends; neither had been interested in participating in arranged play dates, more often than not, devolved between childish bickering and long periods of silence from a shared, stubborn refusal to speak.
With their families passing through similar crowds, of course, they did grow a little more familiar with one another, on a much more polite basis, through brief encounters during dinners and luncheons, that kind of affair, or, on the rare occasion, when brought along to more formal political functions.
Age aside, they were simply on different paths. Naruto developed empathy, presented with a strong affinity for wind, was developing his magic. Sasuke developed neither. Apart from having that one class together, they had no real semblance of a relationship.
How close they weren't then, compared to how close they are now, for all intents and purposes, to Sasuke, Naruto may as well have been a complete stranger.
It's still a little difficult to grasp, what Sasuke and Naruto have, and to achieve that in such a short span of time—as if mere days, passed into a few weeks, standing the test of two months, could result in the kind of intensity that's created the near instantaneous bond between them.
Children could be notoriously fickle at times, one moment presumably the best of friends, and then suddenly no longer on seeing terms, going as far as to avoid even eye contact over some of the most seemingly inconsequential things, many times the simplest misunderstandings thrown out of proportion, all of it somehow forgotten the very next day.
Being around Naruto, however, despite any prior distance or childish enmity between them, it's done wonders for Sasuke, for both his empathy and overall emotional development. He's smiling again, slowly regaining his confidence, as inquisitive as he's ever been, less afraid of his empathy, becoming more and more the child he used to be.
Naruto's been able to benefit from their interactions, as well, although Itachi suspects Naruto's still struggling with self-imposed guilt, however misguided the sentiment, first made manifest by his initial attempts to befriend Sasuke, overcompensating for an incident that wasn't his fault.
He doesn't believe Naruto chose to become Sasuke's friend out of any sort of obligation, though. Their relationship, it delves far beyond the scope of what happened between them that day, and Naruto's apparent ability to quiet Sasuke's empathy; the driving force behind their friendship, as it continues to evolve, there's this almost visceral attraction, between them the kind of emotional connection that closer and closer lends itself to a lingering permanence, precariously close to encroaching upon co-dependency.
Already, Naruto's taken it upon himself to take care of Sasuke.
Already, Sasuke's responded in kind, already looks to Naruto as easily as he looks to Itachi, with the same wide, credulous eyes, already decided to believe in Naruto's promises that everything was going to be okay, just as readily as Naruto made them.
What's been most surprising, is how naturally Naruto's fallen into his self-appointed role as Sasuke's protector, and how dedicated he is to fulfil the most critical promise he's made, that'd he was going to be the one to take care of Sasuke.
To Naruto's credit, he's extremely perceptive for his age, in part due to his own empathy, which is already well above average, but especially where Sasuke's concerned, able to sense Sasuke's moods, reacting instinctively to what he believes Sasuke needs, putting himself between Sasuke and the problem he perceives, which occasionally does apply to Sasuke's care team.
While not necessarily combative or disrespectful, or even intrusive, Naruto will become defensive on Sasuke's behalf, if only because Sasuke won't always speak up when his empathy's bothering him.
Although touch alone no longer seems to consistently trigger an episode for Sasuke, he still isn't completely comfortable around more than two or three people at once, still has his moments even during vitals, and Naruto knows this. Without being told, he's seen it.
That same fiercely protective streak, Itachi does wonder sometimes...
It's not so much as a concern, as it is a simple curiosity. That'd be more than a bit premature, to judge Naruto's actions in that context, when there's nothing that would even have him assume Naruto's intentions include any ulterior motives.
He knows Naruto, this amazing little boy he's watched over, watched grow, Kushina and Minato's son. And this sudden notion of having to entrust the emotional welfare of his little brother to another child, though hesitant he may be, he'd also be incredibly remiss to deny the substantial role Naruto currently plays in Sasuke's life.
Lately, however, as Sasuke and Naruto continue to become closer, there have been a few instances that have given him pause.
Naruto's inherently protective nature, the extent to which that kind of staunch devotion applies to Sasuke, it certainly exceeds to affect Naruto on a subconscious level.
Every so often, towards the end of normal visiting hours, returning from his commute, entering Sasuke's room, he'll stumble upon the sight of them sleeping—late in the afternoon, the two of them taking a nap, Naruto sharing the small bed where he comfortably fits, facing the doorway, facing Sasuke huddled against him, Sasuke's head tucked beneath Naruto's chin, his face hidden by Naruto's chest, Naruto's arm around him, Sasuke almost disappeared beneath the thin white blanket raised past his neck.
Sometimes, he'll catch Naruto on the verge of waking, will catch a flicker of emotion that darkens blue eyes, somehow a maturity that seems beyond him, in Naruto's gaze, perhaps once or twice a trick of the light, but a fleeting glimpse into an emotion further obscured, quietly assessing, an expression he still can't decide how to place.
Those moments pass quickly, mere seconds before Naruto will recognise him, blue eyes turned bright, will simply smile at him, greeting Itachi with a sleepy murmur of Welcome back.
To be honest, it is a little disconcerting.
Of course, it has nothing to do with being Sasuke's older brother. He realises there's only so much he can do for Sasuke on his own, and he's not going to begrudge an eight year old, for having that kind of closeness with Sasuke.
By all means, he's grateful that Sasuke has someone like Naruto in his corner, not only as someone close to him in age, but someone who also happens to fall so closely within their family's orbit.
His parents have known Kushina and Minato for years. They've long been friends, long before he was even in born. Above all, especially considering who they are, having such prominent political careers, being in positions of power that don't allow them to take relationships at face value, his parents trust them.
And he does, too.
So, as much as he worries for Sasuke, he also worries for Naruto.
He remembers two weeks ago, that Tuesday afternoon, as Naruto was getting ready to leave, remembers speaking to him outside the ward, asking Naruto whether he felt he was being forced to visit Sasuke.
Naruto frowned, eyes squinted in thought, a thought formed rather quickly, before he looked to Itachi with such an earnest sincerity, his response a child's enviable ability to rationalise their place in the world with the simplest reasoning.
"I don't visit Sasuke because I'm forced to come here. I visit Sasuke because I know it's the right thing to do, but then I...I don't want Sasuke to be alone, either. And I really like Sasuke, too, because we're friends now, so, wanting to look out for him, that's still okay, isn't it?"
And yet, despite those kinds of selfless declarations, the innocent reasoning of a child, Naruto is still just that, a child—however deeply he's come to care for Sasuke, however genuinely happy he seems just being Sasuke's friend.
According to Kushina and Minato, the apparent quest for Sasuke's friendship, that was entirely Naruto. Well before he was aware of the effect he had on Sasuke, mind already decided, he sought Sasuke on his own.
Which isn't at all hard to believe, considering Naruto's wilful personality, sometimes the equivalent to a penchant for trouble—often fuelled by a righteous conviction that once spurred him to skip school, to take a public transport by himself, then sneak into the hospital, in order to see Sasuke, in order to see for himself that Sasuke really was okay, before he was caught by Nurse Mitate, and subsequently chased out of Sasuke's room.
Since then, Kushina and Minato have been more than accommodating, partially to dissuade an already determined Naruto from again trying to run off on his own to visit Sasuke, but also because they're sensitive to Sasuke's situation.
It's obvious where Naruto stands on the matter, and they choose to support him. Although they've addressed Naruto's relationship with Sasuke, they don't try to influence his decisions either way.
Of course, among his parents, with Kushina and Minato, there have been discussions about Naruto's behaviour, about Sasuke's, as well, the potential repercussions that could have an adverse effect on them both.
Still, at this stage in their relationship, it'd do no good to separate them, under these circumstances especially careless to even attempt, because they are still so young.
For now, the consensus is to leave them be. As of yesterday, though, they don't have much of a choice anymore.
He supposes it was inevitable, really, despite the recently increased security detail, despite the numerous precautions taken to ensure them privacy, the news revealing Sasuke's empathy, an entire article focused on Sasuke's apparent lack of magical ability, The Uchiha Anomaly—it's too late to get ahead of it.
There've already been rumours because of Sasuke's continued hospital stay. That was always going to be a given. Based on the information he's received from his contacts, most of those rumours are purely speculative, with little substance, if any, reduced to sightings, mentions of people close to their family, seen in passing going in and out of Reife.
It seems fine for now, nothing that would lead him to believe either Sasuke or Naruto were being put in harm's way.
He'll probably need to get in touch with Shisui soon, ask Shisui what he can come up with on his end.
There's something about the situation that gives him a sense of foreboding. The last nine weeks, a series of too highly coincidental events, he doesn't know what it is, but he's learned not to so quickly dismiss his intuition—an intuition that's served him well in life, the same intuition that raised his initial misgivings about his family's place in the Alliance, about his own place disillusioned with the meagreness of ideology, and yet yielding freely bound to his family's inherited legacy.
"...Nii-san?"
Itachi looks down, carefully adjusting Sasuke in his lap, Sasuke's arms around him still yet to let go. "I thought you were sleeping."
"...not yet."
"You're not tired?"
"A little."
"You can go to sleep."
"I will, but...can I sleep here again tonight?"
"You can."
"...will you stay with me this time?"
Sasuke's head still resting over his shoulder, Itachi leans back against the chair, the prolonged position already beginning to wreak havoc on his back, already cause a crick in his neck, but to Sasuke he only offers a small smile, a smile that nearly falters at the faintest little sensation in the back of his mind, a strange sort of warmth not wholly unfamiliar, soothing at the edge of his consciousness, as Sasuke's breathing falls even, falls softly across Itachi's skin.
"...Sasuke?"
Slowly, he brushes away the hair concealing Sasuke's face, gently places his hand against Sasuke's cheek.
But Sasuke's already sleep.
