Warnings for brief discussion involving the possibility of non-consensual touching that didn't occur. In the case of Sasuke's empathy, it's not touching in a sexual sense; it's more about someone intentionally trying to impose their emotions on him, because of Sasuke's perceived sensitivity, trying to make him feel a certain way, which Orochimaru more or less had been trying and ultimately failed to do.
...
Following his encounter with Orochimaru, Sasuke returns to Nagi, returns to his brother, tries to seek solace despite his still diminishing grasp of a world that seems more than content to continue on with or without him.
...
V. Like Rhinestones, Falling From the Sky
As comfortable as Sasuke is with his empathy, as much as he does trust his magic, there are still certain things, certain aspects of being a life user, more so as he grows older, that he continues to struggle with.
He still doesn't know what any of it's supposed to mean, can't understand how people would even think to place so much significance in something that doesn't even affect them directly, how so many people have been able convince themselves his mere existence essentially makes him whatever they want to believe—in the grand scheme of things, he can acknowledge the rarity of having life magic, the fact that it's been a century since the last known life user appeared, but when everything keeps coming back to that, when it always seems to come down to these very moments where it feels like his entire worth is somehow equated to his magic alone, whatever superficial value in his abilities people want to see, all of it means so very little to him.
If he could live the rest of his life outside the scope of public scrutiny, he probably wouldn't have given it a second thought, but sometimes it really does bother him, this perceived notion of who he is, or rather this already established idea of who he's supposed to be, simply based on the fact that he's a life user, because he is the one who's directly affected by it.
As long as he's been dealing with his own public perception, though, he realised it's just something he's going to have to put up with, definitely not something he's going to be able to escape any time soon.
Still, he tries not to let it get under his skin, tells himself he shouldn't let what other people may think bother him so much, because that's what Naruto tells him, too, that people shouldn't be so quick to make assumptions about him just because he has life magic, that people shouldn't always assume his empathy makes him...
Then again, it's those same assumptions that also happen to work in his favour, an image crafted of him his parents have carefully helped to maintain.
There are still plenty of people wary enough of his magic as it is, in particular due to its rarity, the fact he has life magic at all, although it's the heavy focus on his empathy that seems to temper most of the misgivings apparently based on unspoken prejudices stemmed from him still being a magic user.
For his own safety, he's been told to go along with it, because it's important for people to continue promoting their own image of a magic user who's the furthest thing from being any kind of threatening.
And maybe that's the most annoying thing, not being able to break away from that perception, having to keep up with this very passive portrayal depicting him as someone he knows he's not.
Because of his parents' standing on the political scene, because of the obligations that come from being part of the Uchiha family, he understands the need to uphold appearances, and, as a life user, the role he's expected to play when he does have to attend the kinds of public events or private functions his parents are often invited to.
He won't say he's made peace with it, because he hasn't, and he's not really sure he can, not where he is now, but he's accepted it as a situation he can't fundamentally change, and a situation that has an impact on his parents, as well.
Worse than the way he's perceived, however, is how people tend to respond to that perception, the way they often talk over him, while he's with his parents, will still talk about him like he isn't even there, and politely pretend not to notice the gloves he's wearing, despite the occasional glance thrown in his direction.
It's not that he doesn't realise where it's coming from, though. Most of the attention he's received is a consequence of how his specific empathy works, the fact that it can have an effect on non-magic users, even with something that's never been documented before; it's why people tend to be more curious about his empathy rather than his life magic, because that type of empathy has always been recognised as a ability that only occurs within magic users.
And yet somehow his empathy, with his naturally high levels of sensitivity, somehow, people think that gives them permission to treat him like he's...
Weak.
That's what he doesn't like to say, the way he doesn't want to be seen, but he's fully aware some variant of the word is how people view him, like his empathy suddenly makes him incapable of handling emotions, suddenly means he has the most delicate sensibilities, his empathy reduced to no more than an emotional frailty—as if he's some lost child helpless without guidance from the adults around him, someone with such a sensitive nature, simply expected to comply with their preconceived notions of him, allow himself to be posed the way he's supposed to moved, because it's already given he's liable to break down over the tiniest little thing.
Admittedly, some of it does seem well-intentioned, usually from his parents' closer colleagues, the ones he's known for a while, and the ones who usually do act of concern, not wanting to upset him, but sometimes with that concern comes gratuitous touches, many times an unwarranted closeness from people who probably want to believe themselves to be reassuring, picking up where security may leave off, a courteous hand placed over his shoulder or at his side, leading him through a crowded area, helping him stay close to his parents, out of kindness, supposedly, and yet the gesture remains misplaced, patronising all the same.
But he bears it, whenever his parents give him a concerned glance, bites his tongue and tells them he's okay.
It isn't so bad, though. Kushina and Minato are usually invited to the same gatherings, so it's a lot more bearable when they end up with close seating arrangements, because the closeness he shares with them is a welcomed one, and the warmth from their lingering touches actually is reassuring.
(With Naruto at the Academy, he doesn't have to make those kinds of appearances anymore, and it's still something Sasuke's trying to adjust to, no longer being able to spend as much time together as they used to, but it's also a stark reminder of how much he really does rely on Naruto, underlining the reality that he needs to work harder towards being able to do more things on his own, because he's old enough now that he shouldn't be so dependent on Naruto, anyway.)
And even without Kushina and Minato, given that he just turned thirteen, he's not really expected to engage in any substantial conversation, despite how much he's learned from simply observing, or the fact that he has started keeping up with current affairs, because he does want to better understand what's happening around him. Yet, if he's not on the receiving end of the more obtrusive stares, he's mostly looked over, even on the extremely rare occasion other kids his age happen to be there, too.
Very few strangers actually approach him, anyway, preferring to keep a respectable distance. Of course, they'd also have to go through security and his parents first, if they did want to initiate contact with him, so there's always that, although there was one person who proved himself an exception to what Sasuke had come to expect.
He was a retired member of the Council, one of his parents' former superiors, and although they'd been out of touch for a few good years, they became reacquainted during a private charity gala sponsored by his Uncle Madara.
(It was the kind of fundraiser common among elected officials, the kind that also served as an attempt to attract additional positive press, and his uncle was no different, preparing for his upcoming election against Danzou. Yet it happened to serve as a family affair, too, because in their family it was simply understood they were expected to be continue the long-standing tradition of the Uchiha name being prominently involved in either military or political matters.)
Trying not to seem obvious, Sasuke listened, gleaned as much as he could, as his parents and the considerably older man who'd approached them went through the usual social niceties typically exchanged at these kinds of events, although the sort of exchange that would sometimes read ambiguous at best, contradictory at worst, depending on the history of the parties involved, if he listened closely enough to parse the meanings behind often carefully chosen words.
Nearing the end of their conversation, however, instead of wandering off to mingle with the other guests, the man made a subtle gesture to the small, round table where Sasuke was seated by himself.
The man received a small smile from his mom, returned the silent permission with the small upturn of his lips more fleeting, a smile somewhat defeated, already frayed at one corner of his mouth.
Slowly, he made his way toward the table, made the short distance with a slight hobble to his walk. He stopped next to one of the chairs, standing upright, held his high, yet held his smile unchanged, as he looked to Sasuke. "Sorry for troubling you," he said in Japanese, his voice a low, rasping sound, "but do you mind if I sit here?"
Sasuke barely managed to hide his surprise. Considering he'd just heard the man speaking with his parents in Standard, he wasn't exactly expecting him to know Japanese, too, or to even sound so comfortable speaking it, because most people usually weren't as familiar with it.
He pushed that aside, though, gave a polite bow of his head, gave a polite greeting welcoming the man to sit, because he knew his mom and dad wouldn't just allow anyone near him; that his parents felt he could handle this sort of situation on his own, that meant something in and of itself.
Still, he didn't know what to expect, couldn't imagine why someone like that would be interested in him, although instead of turning to his parents in question, he kept his composure, refrained from maintaining direct eye contact, like he'd been taught, had to be reminded so many times before, held himself modest in appearance, yet no less aware, watching as the man sat down, sitting a chair away from him.
Returning Sasuke's bow with a small nod, the man thanked him for being kind enough to humour him, and then introduced himself as Delegate Sanchez.
Sasuke gave yet another polite response, all but going through the motions, maintaining the higher level of formality usually expected at these events—Sanchez started to laugh, let out this small, sort of self-deprecating sound, a mild noise slightly strained and hoarse, despite the noticeable warmth in dark brown eyes.
"Forgive me, but you really are too kind." He ran a hand through his hair, short grey strands noticeably thinner closer towards his hairline. "At my age, having a title like that, it's more honorary than anything that could ever hold real meaning in this sort of environment."
Honestly, Sasuke didn't know how to respond, so he didn't, which seemed to suit Sanchez just fine, amused him even, when he admitted he appreciated Sasuke's willingness to keep someone like him company, because he'd been feeling a little out of place.
"It's fine," Sasuke decided to say, because there was nothing that felt wrong about Sanchez, nothing that made him feel uneasy, although there was something about him, more than just his seemingly humble demeanour, still a little unclear, the simplest notion that started to settle on the edge of his consciousness.
At first it was...strange, to say the least, but then maybe some of that was due to a sense of relief, too, just from the knowledge Sanchez really wasn't expecting anything from him, which Sanchez went on to prove, by holding an entire conversation without waiting for any sort of contribution from him, without any of those deliberate pauses some people liked to use, not subtle at all in their attempts, probably because they recognised his own social obligation to respond, when they were looking to Sasuke to confirm their own bias, whatever they wanted to think of him.
Despite the one-sided nature of the conversation, he found he was content to listen, as he absently picked at the rest of his food, even found it a little serene, how easily Sanchez moved from one tangent to the next, as if he were in a sea of photographs, taking his time, carefully wading through a tangible trove of memories too many placed before him, reminiscing aloud, maybe just for the sake reminding himself there were still things he hadn't yet forgotten.
He didn't ask about Sasuke's magic, though, didn't once mention Sasuke's empathy.
The most personal thing he said about Sasuke, was that he remembered the handful of times he'd seen him as a baby, and how every time Sasuke would cry around him, or seemingly anyone who didn't have features similar to Itachi.
"You definitely had a pair of lungs on you," Sanchez said, the corners of his eyes crinkling the memory. "Wouldn't have known it, not with how quiet you are now."
"...oh."
"But you remind me of someone I once knew. Someone who taught me how to appreciate the quiet, taught me how to listen—something I wish I had the patience to learn a long time ago. Lucky you, though, seems like you already understand what too many people tend to overlook. "
Sanchez also talked a little about the time he served in the military, which Sasuke had guessed earlier, just based on the way he carried himself, and while he wasn't a magic user, he'd been stationed at Nagi a few times, claimed to have learned a thing or two during his short stint as an instructor there.
He seemed the most content while he talked about his wife, though, called her his rock, his Connie, as much as the thought of her seemed to make his already faltering smile waver, lent his gaze toward something not quite bittersweet, when he said that he was just counting down the days, until he'd be able to see her again.
There were bouts of silence, too, as quiet as it could get with a backdrop of shuffled noise and the continued overlap of random conversations, moments when Sanchez would get a sort of distant look, between calm sighs, brief stretches of quiet that weren't necessarily uncomfortable, but overall Sasuke didn't mind keeping him company, throughout the conversation gradually drawn toward something about him, enough that he'd been unintentionally responding with his empathy.
Not that Sanchez would've noticed, but that something, whatever it was, reflected in dark brown eyes, this emotion just slightly beyond his grasp , something that almost felt...incomplete.
Naruto always liked to say he was too curious for his own good, which Sasuke didn't always have the ability to argue against, because it probably would apply here, too, but he couldn't deny the gentle sway of his magic, its presence growing restless below the surface, pulsating beneath his skin, and since he'd already given into his empathy, anyway, it wouldn't hurt to give in again, just for a moment, just a second or two, a mere glimpse into what his magic was demanding to see—and in that moment, when Sanchez turned away, when no one else was watching, when he felt his eyes begin to grow wide, as the sound seemingly disappeared from all around them, as the colour surrounding him began to fade, it was then that Sasuke looked.
But just as soon, everything came rushing back, too loud, too bright, and Sasuke blinked.
"I know I have to be patient," Sanchez began, with a glance toward the open floor, toward a small group of people laughing, smiling with the toast of their glasses held high, made again that same self-deprecating sound, when Sasuke finally realised what that something he'd been drawn to was, "if I want to see her again, but..."
He gave a small shake of his head. "That you were kind enough to listen to an old man like me..."
Beneath the table, Sasuke tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket, breathed as he felt his magic wrap around him, as his empathy continued to slip slowly between them, found that there was nothing he could really say.
"...thank you."
Because Sanchez was dying.
"No, it's..."
Yet Sanchez was already beginning to stand, already excusing himself to leave, his gaze still warm, tinged with a calm sort of ease, with a small upturn at the corner of his lips, if only this time marginally less frayed.
"It was nice meeting you, Sasuke."
Two days later, Sanchez died in his sleep.
Sasuke didn't know him enough about to feel any particular way about his passing, but it did come as a surprise to his parents, which immediately follow with concerns about his empathy, whether or not he'd be affected.
Trying to convince them he was fine, however, by telling them he'd already been aware Sanchez was dying, apparently, that wasn't the right thing to say, since it was exactly what they'd been worried about, due to his history, many times over, a proven penchant to blindly go along with his magic, with absolutely no regard whatsoever for the consequences, never mind the fact he wouldn't have known about Sanchez if his parents hadn't confirmed it—except Shisui's death was something that lingered unspoken between all of them, was a cloud still very much hanging over him, an issue he still hadn't truly addressed, because what happened that day, as Shisui laid there unmoving beside him, that he'd been able to actually feel Shisui...
But Sanchez was different. Death was something he seemed to have already accepted, something he was seemingly waiting for. At the time, his body was already dying, with little of his life force remained to sustain it, what Sasuke had seen, very little provisional space left to actually fill. Simply put, at that stage, death became much more certain.
That kind of imminence, however, Sasuke attributed to the natural progression of inevitable decay. So, while he did give in to his magic's persuasion, stirred within him, a gentle insistence heightened by the need to satisfy his own sense of curiosity, he didn't feel as compelled to use his life magic, the way he was normally drawn to fix the rips and tears within another person's life force.
(His natural inclination to heal, to need alleviate someone else's hurt, it was still there, because that didn't really go away; usually, it just took the form of his empathy instead, the only way he really knew how to lessen the urge.)
There was also his lack of familiarity with Sanchez, when he considered why his magic hadn't seemingly jumped at the opportunity to run rampant, despite the fact he hadn't been exposed to Sanchez's life force for too long, because the length of his exposure hadn't mattered in the past.
It'd been an issue before, so it was fair that his parents were worried about any connection he might've made with Sanchez, and the possibility of that connection affecting his empathy.
And it was very the reason his parents had started making him wear gloves customised especially for him, to help offset the urges that seemingly came along with his life magic.
The gloves were for his own safety, more so than anything else, because while his life magic didn't manifest as violently as his empathy when it'd first appeared, in some ways, it was actually more volatile, when even the slightest bare touch would take him into a sort of trance, when his eyes grew uncomfortably large, glazed over white, while colour would bleed away from his vision burned with hues of grey and the barest hint of blue— immediately drawn toward any disruption in the natural flow of a person's life force, no matter how small, would actively seek any perceived flaw, completely taken over by his magic, would quickly tire himself out trying to repair with his own life force whatever he could find.
But familiarity became a crucial part of learning how to manage his life magic, too. During those first couple months, his mom created with these safety drills they'd practice together, through consistent repetition would stress the importance of knowing when it was appropriate to use his magic, through simple rhyme and verse, simple reminders of the rules that were there to help keep him safe.
"But you can't let just anyone else see. You have to keep this a secret, because only your safe adults know, okay?"
"Okay."
"Do you remember your safe adults?"
Alongside his dailies, the drills became so deeply ingrained into his routine, reinforced why he wasn't supposed to stray away from his safe adults, why he wasn't supposed to use his magic in front of people he didn't know, became a subconscious habit that taught him to be more mindful of his surroundings, a more learned sort of scepticism that worked to help counter his life magic's inherently indiscriminate nature.
It wasn't just for the sake of his life magic, though. Later, his mom would it was one of her greatest fears, that the wrong person learned he had elemental magic, because even with her position, with his father's position, despite the power of the Uchiha name, despite all the influential people they knew, she was still afraid they wouldn't be able to protect him, if anyone outside their trusted circle discovered the true extent of his abilities as a life user.
"As you are now, as you are with your empathy, there are people who'd still try to take you away from us—people who already have tried to take you away from us. I'm not saying this to scare you, but because you were too young to understand the answers I couldn't give you before.
"We can only do so much, Sasuke. If nothing else, I need you to understand that."
And he does. Since meeting Sanchez, since that experience deviated so much from what he was used to at that point, he thinks he's grown to have a better grasp of how people view him, more than just the pervading belief that he really is so susceptible to emotions, as annoying as it is, because there also seems to be this assumption, more so among non-magic users, maybe, that his empathy allows for the opportunity for others to manipulate his emotions, something he's only come to realise recently.
Sensitivity in terms of magic doesn't carry the same stigma as sensitivity in terms of how people respond to emotions. For magic users, their kind of empathy corresponds directly with magical ability. Outside of that, however, because of his life magic, while he can acknowledge he does respond with his empathy, typically when it comes to those close to him, he doesn't want to believe it's something that would make it easier for other people to take advantage of it.
More than a few times, he'd been encouraged to smile more, in some shape or form, told that it'd make him more approachable to other people, since he was already so shy.
Needless to say, he didn't take anyone up on those offers.
Naruto snorted into a fit of giggles when Sasuke had told him, thought it was the weirdest thing ever, clearly torn between the idea of Sasuke being shy and the idea of Sasuke putting on that kind of smile for other people, but then he turned serious, a lot more thoughtful, the slightest irritation creeping into his voice, when he suggested it was probably because people automatically saw him as someone who was emotionally available, and that was why they were usually so surprised to see his personality was naturally more reserved than what they'd been expecting.
He's more aware of it now, in the back of his mind, sometimes takes notice of the crude prodding at his emotional barriers, deliberately or otherwise, regardless of intent, although the attempts themselves meagre on their own, because his natural level of empathy is that high, and his shields more much advanced than those from even the most accomplished magic users.
Besides, that's just not how his empathy works.
The most disturbing attempt to date, though, the most recent, as well as the most brazen, happened at the peace summit Saturday, during his encounter with Orochimaru.
How casually a virtual stranger had approached him, said his name with such familiarity, seemed to already know so much about him, with hushed excitement, the way Orochimaru simply looked at him, very near an obsessive bordering on unnerving, through an open assessment, the way Orochimaru spoke about his empathy, spoke about wanting to learn how his magic worked—being made the object of a poorly contained fascination, while Sasuke can't deny the entire exchange made him uncomfortable, there was nothing about Orochimaru he felt intimidated by, but it was also the first time someone had truly tried to intimidate him, by making a purposeful attempt to coerce his emotions, trying to make him feel a specific way.
He was more annoyed, really, especially when Orochimaru compared him to Itachi, said that he wasn't quite like his brother, insinuating the same kinds of things he'd already heard before, mocking him with the same contrived assumptions about his abilities solely based on his empathy. Whatever Orochimaru had been expecting from him, he didn't particularly care, because he wasn't going to entertain it.
Honestly, putting aside Orochimaru's eagerness to indulge in his own scientific curiosity, Sasuke's not really bothered by the situation, especially after the fact, although no one else seems to share that sentiment.
Maybe if he knew about Orochimaru beforehand, maybe he wouldn't have wandered away from Naruto, maybe he would've tried to stay close, despite his growing discomfort at the unavoidable stares from the other kids there, periodic glances he couldn't ignore, questions they were too polite to direct toward him, but questions about him they seemingly had no issues asking Naruto, never mind all the attention Naruto was already receiving.
And the fact he didn't want to be around for that, well...
Nobody else seemed to notice he was no longer there, anyway, including the chaperones who were supposed to be watching them, because he hadn't even wandered that far, was just outside the room, still in the hall, and maybe it wouldn't have turned into such an ordeal if Orochimaru hadn't approached him—if Naruto hadn't decided to come after him.
And suddenly, Naruto was just there—fingers seized tight around Sasuke's arm, fuming, he pulled Sasuke behind him, trying to keep Sasuke from the stranger's view, the air depressed around him, his entire body trembling, Kyuubi already resonating within him, dangerously close to the surface, Kyuubi's magic already so close intertwined with Naruto's own.
The moment the stranger was out of sight, Naruto's attention went right back to Sasuke, blue eyes narrowed, searching for signs he already knew to look for, checking to make sure Sasuke will still wearing his gloves, while his hands roamed over him, turned less frantic as they ran along the outside of Sasuke's arms, pressing them close to Sasuke's sides, when Naruto gave him a soft shake.
"...did that guy do anything to you?"
Sasuke let himself be moved, unconsciously leaned into the hands that rose to frame his face, careful, tilting up his chin. "What're you—"
"That Orochimaru guy, if he did something to you," Naruto began, voice growing lower, words whispered harsh, "if that bastard tried anything with you, anything, you need to tell me—you have to tell me, Sasuke."
"It's oka—"
"No, it's not okay because I heard him—I heard him, and the things that bastard said to you, he should've never said those things to you, Sasuke. No one should ever say those kinds of things to you—and you need to know that—you need to remember that, because no one gets to talk any kind of way to you, all right."
Sasuke blinked, stunned by the sudden intensity, in Naruto's tone a sudden urgency, trapped beneath the determined resolve of blue eyes that for a brief moment flashed red. He wasn't afraid. He'd never been afraid of Naruto or Kyuubi, never had a reason to be, but he found himself startled all the same, slightly alarmed, because while he knew Naruto's anger was directed toward that Orochimaru guy, Naruto hadn't said anything to explain why.
"...all right."
"That's why you have to tell me," Naruto said, and vaguely, Sasuke realised, the entire time, they hadn't been speaking Standard; since confronting Orochimaru, Naruto had switched over to their native Japanese, had already ensured the small audience they'd drawn wouldn't understand them. "Did he try to touch you?"
"Naruto, I don't—"
"Sasuke, did he touch you?" came a low hiss, a near snarl, a slight rumble from Naruto's chest, tinged with Kyuubi's presence, from Kyuubi himself, an increasing agitation, a ferocity there that actually surprised Sasuke.
Naruto being so defensive on his behalf, that he understood, was even used to by now, but to this extent, it didn't...
Yet when he looked to Kyuubi, when he gave the slightest questioning nudge, his magic still responding to Kyuubi, reaching out to keep him calm, Kyuubi wouldn't explain what about Orochimaru had angered him, either. He only gave an impatient tug in response, only sought from him assurance, echoing what Naruto was already asking aloud.
Answer, Sachi. You need to tell us.
There was noise, surrounding him words, not conversation, someone trying to get their attention, but Sasuke only watched him, watched them, nearly frowned, nearly swayed, still leaning into the hands resting careful against his cheeks.
"...I'm fine. He didn't do anything to me."
Naruto dropped his hands, dropped his head, eyes squeezed shut, breathed in deep. He heaved a sigh, heavy with the fall of shoulders, as he opened his eyes, again breathed in, raising his head to meet Sasuke's expectant gaze.
"Okay, then, that's...it's okay."
"...Naruto?"
"...you're okay."
However it involved Orochimaru, whatever it was that worried Naruto enough to actually scare him, to worry even Kyuubi, Sasuke's best guess is that it's probably what worried everyone else, too, but it apparently seemed to be yet another one of those things they also didn't believe he needed to be told.
Being kept in the dark about certain matters, the idea that it's for his own good, it may have been reasonable when he was younger, but he doesn't think it'll do him much good in the long run. It's not like he can stay secluded forever. And he doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to have to live in a predetermined bubble for the rest of his life.
Some many things are already out of his reach, before he even had a chance to try to pursue anything, all the opportunities he used to look forward to, everything he once wanted to be, taken away from him seemingly overnight, because he was put in a position where he didn't amount to much more than his status as a life user.
He tries not to let that define who he is, although if there's one thing his life magic and empathy have been good for, it's the ability to sense another person's intent, allowing him to discern from emotions what feels right or wrong, so, meeting Orochimaru, while he could recognise the situation for what it was, he knew nothing would happen.
And, ultimately, nothing did happen. Orochimaru didn't try to do anything. No reason to think anything else of it.
Despite what everyone seems to believe, it's not like he intentionally ran into Orochimaru. In actuality, it was Orochimaru apparently searching for him, which was an entirely different issue altogether, but the matter of whether Orochimaru would've still approached him if he'd stayed in the room, actually stayed near Naruto like he was supposed to, it's a moot point, because nothing happened.
And yet it's the same point he's been trying to stress since Naruto brought him to their parents, and told them his version of events, which didn't do anything to help Sasuke's case.
After returning to Nagi, he still hasn't been able to convince anyone, least of all his brother, who had his own set of apparent misgivings about the situation, more so due to the fact he wasn't able to attend the summit; unlike their parents, his presence hadn't been requested, so it wasn't his place to make an appearance at such a high profile event, without an invitation hadn't been extended to him.
Instead, he accepted a mission off world, said he'd being going along with Sai and Neji, two of his friends Sasuke once only knew in passing, but recently reintroduced as safe adults, which was pretty significant because not only were trusted with knowing the extent of Sasuke's abilities, they were also trusted with knowing about Naruto and Kyuubi, too.
Yet his brother's inability to attend the summit, because Sasuke knows how his brother tends to think, because his brother has always been so adamant in regards to ensuring his safety, although Itachi may not be as apparent about it, in some way, he probably does fault himself for this, but Sasuke didn't mean to make him worry him.
He's not trying to be a burden. Lately, however, more and more, it seems like that's all he'll ever be.
"Why didn't you stay with Naruto?"
"Nii-san, I—"
"You were told to stay with Naruto."
"Everything was fine. I was just—"
"Repeatedly. You were told to stay with Naruto. Something that's not new to you, something that shouldn't even have to be repeated. And yet you still chose not to listen."
The lack of inflection in his brother's voice, the lack of expression on his face, there's nothing to convey what he's feeling, not even the slightest hint towards the kind of frustrated anger Sasuke had partly been expecting, although the lingering sense of disappointment he can make out in between, that's far worse than any overt display of emotion.
"What difference does it make if nothing happened? I didn't even go that fa—"
"I don't want to hear it, Sasuke—that's not an excuse. You're old enough to know better, and I expect better of you."
"Then, why is it always like this? Everyone's always making decisions for me, never letting me do anything on my own, so why can't I just—"
"Because you continue with this kind of behaviour. You continue to engage in this level of immaturity, and you continue to prove yourself irresponsible."
"But how is that irresponsible, if I already I knew nothing would happen? He wasn't going to do anything to me—he didn't do anything. That guy, Orochimaru—"
The mere name brings a cold glint to his brother's eyes, a cold that has nothing to do with his magic, almost chilling, immediately gives Sasuke pause, brings attention to the hard set of his brother's jaw.
It's the first time he's ever seen his brother like this, and that alone speaks volumes. After a seemingly simple encounter with Orochimaru, that just the mention of Orochimaru's name could elicit this kind of reaction from his brother, obviously, there's a reason for it—what everyone's refusing to tell him, the same topic of discussion that's already been decided he doesn't need to know, so he doesn't even bother to ask.
Not this time.
His brother's expression is quick to settle, however, gaze only slightly narrowed, acute, the fine line of his brother's mouth drawn a little less tight, features turned closer towards indifference, deceptively aloof, giving nothing more away.
Arms held at his sides, Sasuke lightly tugs at the front of his jacket, flexes his fingers as the outside of the pocket sleeve slips between the lightweight material of his gloves. He breathes out, lips pursed, sat on the edge of his low bed, forces himself not to fidget, forces himself to look up into dark eyes that so closely resemble his own.
"...with my empathy, with my magic, if I knew something was wrong, I wouldn't have left the room. I would've stayed closer to Naruto. Because I would've known if—"
"No, Sasuke. You couldn't have known. As it is, you still rely entirely too much on your empathy, yet as often as you like to claim, you can't definitively know these kinds of things. There is always the possibility that something may go wrong, because there will always remain the possibility that a situation may fall beyond your control, a situation where you may be alone—where I won't be able to protect you—and I need you to realise the importance of that."
"But I did know. Because of my magic, I—"
"Sasuke."
His life magic, that's what it always goes back to. It's become a point of contention between them, between him and everyone, how much he really does rely on his magic. Too many times, he's been accused of being too flippant with his magic, more than once has been told that far too often he takes for granted an apparent ease that even some of the most experienced magic users will never achieve.
But as much as he doesn't want it to define him, he can't escape the fact that his magic's become such an intricate part of him, evolved alongside his empathy, how naturally it really does come to him, something he's not able to help, as instinctive as breathing, as much an involuntary response, within his very being, a state of existing— the way it's always been, the way he knows it'll always be, a reassuring constant, his magic simply is.
Not surprisingly, whenever he does try to explain that aspect of his magic, it doesn't go over well. While in general magic is typically described as an extension of its user, when he thinks of his magic, despite having such an abnormal development, he actually struggles to remember a time without it, has trouble describing what it felt like before he even had empathy.
Because there are so many things now, things he somehow just seems to know, presented before him, so many once seemingly impossible things, suddenly in his mind the most improbable notions—things that simply are, what he still hasn't been able to put into words, this inherent awareness of things that have gone, have already come, things that will never pass, and things that have yet to be.
It's always been so easy to succumb to, an ever-present hum, that powerful a compulsion, the more he feels, that much harder to resist the soothing lull of his magic, when it starts to take over him.
He's been told to be more conscientious, not just by Iyashi, over and over already told to try harder, to be more cognisant of what he allows his magic to do.
But he's been trying.
He is trying.
So, why can't anyone see that?
Why can't they understand he just...
Before he had magic, no one really knew what to do with him, and now that he has life magic, it's just a variation of the same thing.
But he didn't ask to be a life user.
He didn't ask for any of this.
He never wanted to be this.
He didn't want to be...
He only wanted to be like his brother, like Naruto, like seemingly every single person around him, people who actually had empathy, who actually had magic—he just wanted to be what he grew up seeing as normal.
Born into the Uchiha family, coming from a line renowned for having above average empathy and having an exceptional number of magic users, as the second son of Mikoto and Fugaku, as Itachi's little brother, he'd shown no promise. By the time he was seven, despite his parents' and his brother's attempts to placate him, reassure him there was nothing wrong with not having magic, in the face of his family's achievements, in the shadow of his brother's genius, he couldn't help but feel like a disappointment.
The bar had already been set high, and not only did he fall short, he didn't even have magic. He was nothing that anyone had been expecting, already written off as a lost cause by some of his extended family, a group of more outspoken relatives who purposely distanced themselves from him—distancing themselves from his mom and dad, too, and even from his brother, referencing his lack of magic to imply disparaging things about them.
But at least then it didn't feel so much like everyone treated him like he was made of porcelain, like they were just waiting, watching with bated breath, anticipating the next time when he'd again break.
With Iyashi, he'd been given hope, despite knowing his next empathetic attack was inevitable, only predictable in the sense it was always lurking around the corner, but those sessions helped him believe he wouldn't have to be like that forever, that his empathy was something he'd eventually be able to overcome—something he thought he did overcome—and it kept him going, no longer out of his reach, this once unthinkable idea that with time things eventually would get better, whatever everybody always kept telling him.
After coming so far, to just go back to the way he used to be, he couldn't do it—he wouldn't.
Not even Naruto knows how bad it used to be. He may have an idea, may be able to put a lot more things together now, but Sasuke never wanted Naruto to see that part of him, the extent of how much his empathy would affect him, because he didn't want Naruto to start treating him the way everyone else was.
During his early sessions with Iyashi, before Iyashi settled on how to approach teaching him about emotional barriers, most of the exercises they did revolved around helping him develop healthy coping skills, giving him different ways to address his emotions.
They practiced a lot of mindfulness, both to increase his mental acuity, and to get him to a place where he'd feel more comfortable outwardly expressing what he felt, because the goal was to assure him it'd be okay to show his emotions.
But Sasuke couldn't stand to let anyone see him cry.
After his empathy, that was one of the first things he promised himself, that he wouldn't cry anymore.
Yet it's a promise he hasn't always been able to keep.
That last time isn't so far removed, but so many instances, the part of him he tried his best not to let Naruto see, all those times he broke his own promise, when he'd cry seemingly at random, for no apparent reason at all.
Like his empathetic attacks, he didn't know when to expect it. Unlike his empathetic attacks, though, he wasn't in any physical pain.
Whether it was out of anger, or sadness, or childish frustration, he could never pinpoint where the tears came from, rarely understood it, whenever the emotion did hit, but, in the middle of whatever he'd been doing, he would just stop. It'd take him a moment to realise at first, when the increasingly familiar burn began to build behind his eyes, churn from the back of his throat, as his vision became less and less clear.
He remembers once, during one of his brother's increasingly less common visits, when the four of them were sat at the table for table, eating together like a family again. One moment he was holding his spoon, smiling at his brother, over something his brother said, and then suddenly he stilled, sat there frozen, gaze lowered as he stared at his soup.
The grip of his fingers turned loose, he dropped his spoon. It missed the bowl, completely missed the table, fell abruptly to the floor, loud enough to startle him, when he realised everyone else's attention was already on him.
As embarrassing as it was for him, it was just as uncomfortable for his parents and his brother, too. No one knew how to approach him. No one really knew what to do. At first, the concern from his parents had felt near drowning, when they immediately came to his side, but they learned to be patient with him. While he couldn't expect them to dismiss their concern, he asked if they could just wait for those kinds of moments to pass, because eventually the tears did stop.
With the back of his hand, he made a hasty wipe at his face, sniffed, tried to clean up the marks drying along both cheeks, streaked beneath his chin, sniffed again, as he bent down to pick up the spoon that had fallen to the floor.
When he sat up, his mom was already prepared, from the extra set of silverware they kept at the table, offering him another spoon.
He wasn't hungry anymore, but his parents were eating again. His brother was eating again. Everyone was talking again. It felt like things had gone back to some semblance of normal.
And he'd say he was okay, even if he really wasn't, but he knew he would be.
It happened with his care team, too, even Kushina and Minato a few times, but he never wanted Naruto to see him cry. Naruto wasn't allowed to see him like that. He still can't let Naruto see him like that—he couldn't.
The act of crying, on its own, he's knows there's nothing with wrong it, because he's even seen Naruto cry before, but with Naruto it's different. He doesn't have life magic. In fact, he has Kyuubi. And as sentimental as Naruto is, for him to get emotional, it doesn't mean the same thing, because that's just the kind of person he is.
Yet even without Kyuubi, even taking into account Naruto's considerable level of sensitivity, well beyond what's recorded for his annual Registration, no one would ever think someone like Naruto to be so...
He's not Naruto. For him to cry, it's that much more damning, because it means he can't handle his own emotions. To be so easily overwhelmed by his empathy, it means what everyone else says about him is true, because it's the one thing it feels like they're always expecting him to do.
How susceptible he is to his own empathy, how many times he's already fallen prey to his magic before, despite the strength of his emotional shields, even now, he still has to live with that uncertainty, will always have to live what that uncertainty, because there's nothing to guarantee another attack won't happen again.
And for what?
Having life magic doesn't bring him any closer to being like his brother. Even with his elemental magic, he's nothing like his brother, nothing like Naruto, nothing like seemingly everyone else around him.
He doesn't regret being a life user, wouldn't trade his magic for anything, but it doesn't translate into the miraculous feat people want to make it seem.
Above anything else, even his shadow magic, healing is what comes most naturally to him. And yet, in order to heal someone, he has to give his own life force, and that comes with plenty of issues on its own. Namely the fact he doesn't have the stamina or reserves to perform consistently the kind of life-saving magic people tend to associate with life users, especially on people his magic isn't familiar with, and certainly not without the very high risk of killing himself in the process.
If Naruto tapping him on the shoulder appeared to be the catalyst for his empathy, then Shisui dying was the catalyst for his life magic.
Waking up beside a motionless Shisui, a Shisui unbearably quiet, so frighteningly still, lying on his back, eyes blank staring at the sky, he still doesn't remember what happened before, how they even ended up by the river—but he remembers think his hands were too small to hold Shisui's face, even though he didn't realise what he was trying to do, couldn't possibly understand, as the warmth was drained from his body.
Vaguely, does he remember when his brother appeared, vaguely remembers his brother calling his name, being taken into his brother's arms, when his brother ripped apart the only link keeping Shisui alive, forcibly pulled him away from a dying Shisui he'd been trying to save.
If it weren't for his brother, if his brother hadn't found them when he did, if his brother hadn't intervened, maybe Shisui would still be here.
Maybe not.
That, he'll never know, but he does know he would've died trying to save him.
Although he didn't fully understand it at the time, didn't understand why it was getting colder, why it was becoming harder and harder to breathe, he still felt it, some part of him having already accepted it, felt it creeping upon him as he drew closer, after the initial discomfort had passed, a peaceful lull in the back of his mind grown louder, as his body grew colder—because in that moment he only was doing what felt natural to do, following an instinctual pull, compelled to fix the sudden appearance of so many holes and tears outlined throughout the slowly moving paths along Shisui's body, giving nearly all of his life force to overlay that inherent sense of wrong.
He wonders sometimes, though, if it were anyone else who'd found them by the river, even his parents, even Naruto, wonders if it would've been enough to finally draw his magic away from Shisui, if his magic would've latched on to anyone else as quickly, despite the familiarity already there, how his empathy seemed to have responded to his brother near instantaneously, drawn toward his brother's hurt, the way he reacted instinctively, if that was what ultimately saved him.
He was barely alive by then, barely breathing, wrapped in his brother's jacket, as his brother held him trembling, because his body wouldn't stop shivering, as his consciousness slipped further away—barely did he register being lifted, his body being moved, barely registered the warmth from the hand placed over his cheek, and yet for the first time felt so clearly his brother's emotions, the depth of the bond between them, in those few seconds fleeting, could practically hear his brother's silent pleading.
Never before had he seen his brother so afraid, because his brother had always seemed this immovable force, in his eyes this perfect image, a constant source of calm, so often appeared near unflappable, the epitome of everything their family stood for, everything Sasuke still wished he could be.
Because he still hasn't forgotten how close his brother and Shisui were, remembers trying to follow them, being worried his brother no longer had time for him, despite how much Shisui liked to tease him about something so silly, despite how times his brother apologised for having to spend so much away from him, remembers wondering if that meant one day his brother wouldn't need him
Because sometime it feels like he made his brother choose.
And sometimes, he can't ignore the part of him that already knows he'll never be able to make up for being the one his brother chose.
Even if he tried to, he doesn't think he'd be able to forget the look on his brother's face that day.
But the concern he can read in his brother's eyes now, it's a still far cry from devastation he'd actually felt from his brother then, despite the near whisper of his brother's low timbre, solidified in his mind the anguish in his brother's eyes, his brother's gaze torn between them, when Shisui wouldn't answer, when Shisui wouldn't move.
"If I'd known about Orochimaru, I wouldn't have..."
His brother quiets him with a single look, another silent reprimand, but this time Sasuke falters at the flimsy-sounding excuse, as the words leave him, closes his eyes, lowers his head, hands clenched into fists at his sides, pressing into the bed.
"Do you not understand the gravity of the situation? Walking away from Naruto, did it not occur to you, the risk you were taking by willingly placing yourself in that kind of position?"
"I..."
Seemingly at odds with everything he's suffered through, despite how drastically his life has changed, all the things he can no longer do, it really doesn't occur to him to question his magic. It's become a comforting presence, something that's hard to imagine himself without, because it's shown him how to be strong in a different way, provided him with a power he could finally call his own.
Now that he has that, and he's in a place where he's able to do more with it, he just...
With how much he's come to rely on his life magic, because it's still traditionally a considered passive ability, because he actually prefers his healing and empathy over his elemental magic, he's still worried about being perceived as incapable of doing certain things.
Despite his best efforts, it seems like even Naruto's started to treat him differently. The careful way Naruto will look at him sometimes, how much more hesitant Naruto seems about some of the things they've always done before, about the closeness they've shared since seemingly forever—of course it gets to him.
He may not be allowed to use his elemental magic, not outside of extenuating circumstances, but he's not defenceless. Although there aren't many people his parents have allowed to be close enough to teach him, much less allowed to know about his elemental magic, at the very least, he's been taught basic combat skills; he knows enough by now to feel comfortable sparring with Naruto, and even with how much Naruto will intentionally hold back, even against Naruto's magic, he can still hold pretty well his own.
Not to mention, his brother's finally teaching him how to wield a sword. In between missions, he somehow finds the time to return home, after Sasuke's private lessons, gradually working towards more intermediate techniques with a practice sword, before he's ready to move on to the kind of retract sword he could use to channel his elemental magic.
That doesn't make him the most well-versed in self-defence, but it's a start. Overall, he still needs to work on increasing his stamina, although he's been able to work on his coordination, too. He even gets to put to good use all the technical knowledge about ships he's picked up, as close he can get to actually flying, borrowing Naruto's access codes, to clock in his own hours in the flight simulator chamber, the few times he's been allowed to go so far.
Compared to the considerable toll it used to take on him, with his magic and empathy, how useless he once felt, despite the fact he still has to wear his gloves, he's been making progress.
He thought he was making progress.
It's been nearly a year since his last major episode, since Yuna.
He still has small episodes here and there, nothing so debilitating, but still those instances where he does have to be more attentive to his surroundings, more wary of the number of people around him, even though that number usually tended to be mostly magic users, because even he knows better than to push the boundaries of the shields he's carefully built over time.
For the most part, though, he hasn't really needed his brother or Naruto nearby. Depending on his own emotional barriers, it feels like that's finally become enough.
And yet what happened at Yuna...
Out of all his more recent episodes, none of them came even remotely close to the severity of that one, the kind of pain he hadn't felt in years, without any sort of warning, to be so emotionally overwhelmed, to the point of actually passing out, the sort of empathetic attack he had truly believed was finally behind him—but it felt like he was seven again, during the worst his empathy had ever been, like he'd just gotten it for the first time all over again.
He was with his parents, already past the main security gate, looking forward to his first time going off world, even though it was more of a work-related occasion, and they were only visiting a neighbouring sector, suddenly, he just started screaming, collapsed on the spot, made a public spectacle of himself, despite mom's attempts to calm him, wouldn't stop screaming until he finally blacked out.
His parents ended up having to delay their trip, again ending up having to call his brother while he was in the middle of a mission, although they decided to keep him home, instead of taking him back to Reife.
He was out for a while, a few days, and yet even unconscious, he wouldn't let anyone near him; still being affected by his empathy, he'd flinch if even his care team came too close, on the verge of hyperventilating, nearly drove himself into fits, how violently he reacted to actual touch.
His reaction to his parents, that was relatively tame, but it wasn't until his brother arrived, that his empathy seemed to have stabilised enough for him to wake up.
Somehow, before he could fully process that he was back at home, back in his own room, he'd already known his brother wasn't far away— before his eyes were even open, his mind unbearably sluggish, still near consciousness, lying in a large bed, lying beneath thick blankets on top of him piled too many, he already knew his brother was there.
As he slowly came to, seemingly the only thought in his mind, as awareness came slowly, as the memories began to fall into place, when he opened his eyes, when his hands struggled to shove aside the blankets covering him, when he could finally see—saw his brother asleep, sat in a chair pulled close beside him, a chair that somehow looked too small for him, head lolled to the side, stretched uncomfortably close to his shoulder, and yet the slight movement from the bed was all it took to wake him, as his brother began to sit up, blinking, fallen from his lips the soft murmur of Otouto that immediately compelled Sasuke forward.
At the sound of his brother's voice, he all but ran across the bed, on shaky legs, ran toward the sight of his brother already gone blurry, fell to his hands and knees, nearly fell into the gap between, before he stumbled into arms that were already reaching out to catch him.
He attached himself to his brother's warmth, swathed in a discrete cold that always kept him warm, fingers gripping the back of his brother's shirt, air taken in through harsh shudders, breaths hitched from his chest, as he tried to keep his brother close, pulling himself closer, hiding his face against his brother's shoulder.
It was suffocating.
His own emotions were suffocating.
Everything just hurt.
He didn't want to be that little kid anymore, the one who always needed someone to hold his hand, but he was tired of always, always feeling too much.
For a moment, his felt his shields fall, for the briefest second, felt his brother turn stiff, felt him nearly stagger, but his brother didn't let go. His brother continued to hold him, pulled Sasuke tighter against him, breath drawn out long with a sigh.
His brother didn't ask if he was all right, didn't tell him everything was going to be okay.
But he didn't need words—he didn't want words. For once, he just wanted to be close to his brother, as he closed eyes against the damp material of his brother's shirt, as he tried to ignore the growing tightness in his chest, found quiet in his brother's arms that kept him safe, helped keep everything else away, because he couldn't keep anything in.
And his brother didn't say anything, either, just held him, until he exhausted himself back to sleep.
The next day, he learned his parents had already made an appointment for him to see Iyashi, but he didn't want to go. He didn't want to talk him, didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to have to feel anything anymore.
Naruto even offered to go with him, offered sit on a session like he used to, but Sasuke didn't want that, either.
When Naruto came over, he almost half-expected Naruto to say I told you so, to remind him that he has reasons to worry about him, but Naruto only tried to convince him to see Iyashi.
But, like he'd told Naruto, it was humiliating. And it still is, to a certain extent, because he knows the looks he receives now, the extra care people take around him, seemingly afraid to upset him, he knows a lot of is due to what happened at Yuna, how sensitive he is to his empathy, something he no longer has the luxury of hiding.
It was one thing to suffer an attack at home, or at the hospital, when he was confined to the ward, but to experience an episode in public, his magic leaving him that vulnerable, so suddenly exposed...
Iyashi put forward the theory that it could've been brought on by fluctuating hormones, not dissimilar to sudden uptick in their empathy levels magic users typically experience around his age, although, of course, nothing on Sasuke's scale.
So far, it seems like it was just a fluke. One unfortunate stroke of bad luck, that's what everyone keeps saying, that it doesn't have to be a setback.
Yet it was something that had nearly taken everything away from him, at the time, seemed to negate, if not completely undo all the progress he'd made.
And for Iyashi to even suggest the onset of hormones could've been responsible for such an abrupt episode, that it was enough to throw him so off-kilter, to revert his empathy to its default state, without any barriers, to return him to his already amplified level of sensitivity, it terrified him.
Because he thought he'd finally grown past that.
He was supposed to be better by now.
Everything's supposed to be better now.
He's not...
"...Sasuke."
He hears his brother shift, listens to the rustle of fabric, as he feels displaced the air in front of him. Fingers no longer digging into his palms, he relaxes his fists, opens his eyes, slowly raises his head to see his brother kneeled before him.
"...that man could've hurt you, Sasuke. He could've seriously—"
His brother looks away, mouth a firm line, eyes closed. He breathes in softly, opens his eyes to look at Sasuke.
Although the concern's still there, his brother remains calm, inscrutable, a force once again immovable, his gaze near impenetrable, a stark foil, with an innate sense control over his emotions that rivalled, if not surpassed Sasuke's own—after all this time, this image of his brother still seemingly infallible, everything Sasuke already knows he'll never be.
Dark eyes begin to soften, reflect the gentle side of his brother he's always known, as he's gathered in his brother's arms, held carefully to his close brother's chest.
"Nii-san, I..."
But there's nothing wrong with his empathy.
"Sasuke."
There's nothing wrong with his magic.
"I just..."
Because there's nothing wrong with him.
He feels his body sag, lets himself sink further into the familiarity of his brother's cold that somehow always manages to leave him warm. He closes his eyes, slowly raises his arms to return his brother's embrace, reaches out with his empathy, fingers clutching the back of his brother's jacket, his voice a soft murmur against his brother's shoulder, as he tries to reassure him the only way he knows how.
"...I'm fine."
