Two Years After, About

It was dark where they were keeping him. Dark and damp and cold, cold, cold, cold...

Except, it wasn't. It was bright — yes. It was bright, bright, bright and warm and wonderful because he was not here, not really. If he was here he could not be there, and it was imperative that he be there. So, no, it was not dark. He was in a wide bright room, with windows and furniture and the sun was shining on his face and he was—

Cold. He was so, so cold.

Not cold. He was not cold. He could not be cold. He was warm. Oh, so warm. Sunlight fell over his entire body, absorbing into his skin and sinking into his bones and burning away at his organs until his insides were ash and—

A noise. Footsteps. The door opened and — yes — blessed light poured in. But it didn't reach him; it never reached him here. Except it always reached him, because he was not here, not really. And there, the light was always around.

He stared at the floor because he was not supposed to know the man at the door was here. In fact, the door had never even opened, because there was no door. Nothing was here. He wasn't even here. Because if he was here he couldn't be there, and they needed him to be there, not here.

But today, today he was here more than he ought to be. He was not supposed to be here at all, but he was because the stale air was scratching at his lungs and he couldn't feel his toes and he was cold, cold, cold—

The man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the room. He went along silently because what else was a boy who was not here meant to do? The only option, he knew, was to quietly pad alongside the man into the light. He didn't shut his eyes against the brightness — he knew not to do that, now — since his eyes surely needed no time to adjust. After all, why would the light be bothersome when he had never, in fact, been in the dark to begin with?

He was brought down the hallway to a room. This room was cold, and he could say that because he was allowed to be here; they had told him so. He didn't like it here very much. The chairs were uncomfortable and the table was sharp and the walls were too white and shiny. He liked it there much better, but since here was technically an extension of there, he guessed he couldn't complain.

The man left and was replaced by a kind looking woman holding a bright blue book. She entered the room silently and took a seat, motioning him towards the chair on the opposite side of the table with a small smile.

"Hello, Sasuke," she said once he settled into the seat, the smile still shining on her face. "How have you been since I last saw you?" He kept his face composed and met her gaze confidently.

"I have been very well, ma'am, thank you." She nodded, writing down something in her book.

"And how have you been spending your time? Training, I hope?" He gave her a smile — he knew that's what he was expected to do — followed by a soft chuckle.

"Of course, ma'am. The instructors you've provided are still giving me daily lessons. They seem very pleased with my progress so far." The woman's smile grew larger.

"And what is it you've been learning?"

"This week we've been going over chakra control. They've also started reviewing the transformation jutsu with me in preparation for graduation." The woman laughed.

"Graduation is still a year away, you know!" He smiled kindly in return.

"Of course, of course. It certainly doesn't hurt to be well prepared though, right?"

"No, it certainly doesn't," she agreed, making another note in her book. "And the Sharingan?" He shook his head.

"I've not awakened it, ma'am." She nodded, biting the end of her pen thoughtfully.

"That's not unexpected," she reasoned, bringing her hand back down. "Only some members of the Uchiha clan end up with the Sharingan. You not having it is of little concern."

"I agree." The woman gave him another warm smile.

"Of course you do."

• • •

Sasuke. Sasuke, Sasuke. Uchiha. Sasuke Uchiha, Uchiha Sasuke. Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke.

The name felt weird in his mouth. No matter how many times he said it, or how many hours or days or weeks or months he forced himself to stay in Sasuke Uchiha's skin, there was something about the name that his mind refused to recognize as familiar. It was a foreign object on his tongue, an unwelcome presence in his brain, and though he had trained himself to respond to it unconditionally, he could not bring himself to embrace it as his own.

But now, now it was the only name he had. And even though every last one of his cells wanted to reject it, he couldn't. Not if he wanted to remain here, or there, or anywhere.

So, he was Sasuke Uchiha. Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke.

Sasuke Uchiha, tragic circumstances aside, had a relatively nice life. He was born on July 23 to two adoring parents: Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha. Fugaku was strict but kind, and Mikoto was loving but overbearing. He even had an older brother, Itachi, who he used to idolize...

...he wondered what it was like to have a real older brother, sometimes.

Except, no, he didn't. He did have a real older brother because he was Sasuke Uchiha and Sasuke Uchiha had a brother five years older than him named Itachi. He couldn't forget that.

Sasuke spent most of his childhood with his family and clan in the Uchiha compound at the outskirts of the village. When he turned eight, he enrolled in the Academy. He didn't have many friends there, but his grades were good and he was well liked by most of the other students. He'd had a few minor confrontations with a boy named Naruto Uzumaki, but beyond those interactions, the two barely spoke.

Then, after a year, the incident happened: his beloved older brother Itachi slaughtered his entire clan in a single night. Sasuke was left alive, albeit in critical condition. He was removed from the Academy immediately and brought to a secure outpost outside of the village for treatment and protection. There, he was nursed back to health. It took him over a year to fully recover.

By then, the Hokage had determined that Itachi was still a threat to him. He was ordered to remain at the outpost for the foreseeable future but was permitted to continue his shinobi studies. Instructors visited him daily and guided him in lessons, teaching him subjects that ranged from village history to advanced ninjutsu theory. The material surpassed what was taught at the Academy, which was fine for Sasuke since he already considered the Academy work easy.

He was allowed to go outside and train, so long as he remained within the chakra barrier that had been erected around the outpost. He didn't know what would happen if he attempted to slip past it; he never tried. After all, he was safe there. The Uchiha had no reason to leave.

But, unfortunately, now he had to.

Itachi Uchiha, while still a threat, had taken no considerable action against Konoha in recent months. So the Hokage had begun proceedings to bring Sasuke Uchiha back into the village center and have him continue on his path to becoming a shinobi.

And that was why he had to be there and not here, in this dark, damp room. After all, Sasuke Uchiha had never set foot in this place. And if he was going to convince everyone that he was Sasuke Uchiha, he needed to make himself believe that he had never set foot here, either.

• • •

Three Years After, Almost

The night before he was brought into the village, Lord Danzo visited him.

No — not Lord Danzo, he chided himself. He could no longer address the man as Lord Danzo because Sasuke Uchiha knew him only as the Hokage. So, no, Lord Danzo did not visit him. The Hokage did.

He was taken from his room that wasn't really his room because it didn't really exist in the middle of the night. The man that wasn't really there had come in, grabbed him, and dragged his half-conscious body to the white room down the hallway. The man haphazardly led him to one of the uncomfortable chairs, sat him down, and left.

A few minutes later, the Hokage came in.

He did his best to wake himself up and look alert as the Hokage circled him, scrutinizing his appearance. After three loops, Lord Third stopped and stood in front of him, continuing to drag is gaze over ever square inch of his body.

"Hello, Sasuke."

"Lord Third." He dipped his head in respect, because that was how he imagined Sasuke Uchiha would have greeted the Hokage had he been visited by him suddenly.

"I wanted to come and see you before tomorrow. To make sure that you're properly prepared." He looked back up, feeling a dull panic beginning to build in his chest.

This was his final test, then. To see if he could really pass as Sasuke Uchiha. And if he failed —

No. He wouldn't fail. He couldn't fail because he was Sasuke Uchiha, and how could he fail at being himself?

He pushed the panic bubbling up in his throat down, down, down.

"That's very kind of you, Lord Third. It will be quite a change, but I'm ready to restart my life in the village as a Leaf shinobi." The Hokage silently contemplated his answer, twirling his cane.

"Yes, I do believe you look ready," he acknowledged. "Everyone here has shared a similar sentiment in their reports." He nodded, feeling himself beginning to relax.

"That's good to hear, Lord Third. I've been working very hard to get to this point."

"I've been told," the Hokage said, still staring at him critically. He felt his skin starting to prickle, his insides starting to constrict.

Please, he begged silently, please pass him. He couldn't fail, he couldn't fail, he couldn't fail.

He kept his face carefully composed as he felt his hands beginning to sweat. He had to calm down, he had to calm down, he had to calm down.

Breathe.

He was Sasuke Uchiha, and Sasuke Uchiha would not be nervous for this meeting.

The Hokage gave him one last appraising glance, nodded, and turned to leave the room.

All the air left his body. He gripped the edges of his chair, his wet palms sliding against the hard metal. No. No, no, no, no—

The Hokage paused as he reached for the door knob.

"I will see you at the village gates tomorrow."

The air returned.

He adjusted his posture, flexed his hands, and sat straighter in his chair.

"Yes, Lord Third."

• • •

Four Years After, Almost

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

In all fairness, though, he didn't know how he expected it to end. Maybe he thought he would live forever under this mask, waking up as Sasuke Uchiha, eating as Sasuke Uchiha, training as Sasuke Uchiha, being Sasuke Uchiha. He had grown comfortable as the boy, had started enjoying the fact that he had adopted Sasuke's identity as his own. He was someone now, whereas before, he had been absolutely no one. He had friends, and a team, and a home, and he didn't want to leave them all.

But the kunai being pierced through his ribcage wasn't really giving him any other choice.

He just wished it all could've ended better.

As he fell back into the water, listening to Sakura and Naruto's screams, he belatedly realized they would never even miss him. They would miss Sasuke.

But he supposed that was okay. After all, he was Sasuke.

Wasn't he?