I'm back you guys. So many of you wanted a sasuke's point of view so here it goes.

Note: The rape scene wasn't an actual incident. I have tried to explain a bit in this chapter but further chapters have detailed narration.

CHAPTER 7: DEAD BODIES THAT LIVE ON HIS SOUL

Sasuke saw a pattern, a great relief washed through him.

The first time Hyuga had a frenzy attack was after she cornered herself to overthink. The strain on her brain made her worst fears turn into reality; a case of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia doesn't has an absolute cause, it is affected by multiple factors i.e, genes, biochemical reactions, homeostasis and so. It could have been easier if he passed this for schizophrenia but he knew a shinobi, one of noble clan, ex heiress to be could be too strong for such severities. He has seen and carefully observed psychedelic patients before, it's an accumulation of small factors. The first attack actually happens for a moment of seizures. He thoroughly checked both Hyuga and her spawn's memory for any hint of it. It seems it was her first one.

For precautions he didn't let her zone out. The next attack she had was in middle of afternoon when the kids were in the same room whispering and giggling. She was content, started groaning, massaging her temples, coiling herself in the couch. Sasuke knew the signs so he rushed the kids to the backyard for 'training'. He found her at the couch, knees tightly tucked to her chest with her head somehow cramped in the crook of it. Her one hand was tugging her head hard and the other was scratching the couch's arm rest. There were several nail marks at the armrest and one broken nail etched inside it. Her ring finger was bleeding. He cursed himself for being so slow.

Another session of abuse and hypnosis. This time he forcefully tied her hands with a scarf he grabbed from the doorway hangers. She slipped out of it easily. Taking his lesson he plummeted the scarf with his chakra and this time she seemed to be restrained. Her breathing evened a tad bit. He pushed 2 his fingers inside her mouth, deep enough for her to gag. Two three tries later she was gasping for air, her puffy eyes had water streaming down. He took the opportunity to put her in a sleep genjutsu. The procedure was similar to the last one.

To his utter pleasure it worked just as perfectly. Not that Sasuke Uchiha was flawed in anyways. The technique that was used by him usually needed to be followed up by someone that had emotional attachment with the victim. He by no means dissipated the mental strain, the time was slowed extremely. To a point where to decode signals your brain was sending to your nerves was seized as in paralysis. For a shinobi an immediate response would be heightened senses so as to compensate for the lack of body functions. Still it was a shady pathway. Not everyone was a shinobi at heart, some hated the path so much that they would prefer death over not giving up. It was a shame she was a housewife, her body yearned to be put in danger.

Knot at the technique came after that. When your senses are so heightened you can spot chakra signatures without any jutsus given you were sensitive about them. Hyuga was a tracker. It was natural for her to locate signatures but what if they stifle on a noxious chakra? The technique would backfire causing major brain damage.

It was a dire method indeed. And that was exactly the reason why he felt so accomplished when she calmed down with him beside her. She trusted him. Trusted him enough to lay dormant while goosebumps arouse everywhere because of how accurately you can pin out souls of people.

Quietly he carried her to the bedroom. His recent success in tucking her in a piece of his chakra provoked him to take a bold step. He made another layer of chakra that coated the blanket and tucked her in there. He also tore a piece of his poncho to aid her bleeding finger. He didn't know why he did that, a convenient excuse was he had no idea where the first aid might be. He shrugged as an image of a white box came to his mind at the utterance of first aid. He couldn't argue against the memory he picked earlier. He shrugged again, maybe he was too lazy to go get that box from the drawer underneath the bedside table right beside the bed.

The venture also gave him another conclusion. Her actions weren't just her brain flipping on her. If the meddling of his chakra had an effect on her then it wasn't just the environment that provoked her it was something else. He wasn't a friend to her (he really had no idea what to call them) they hadn't been acquainted enough for his presence to be 'calming' or 'soothing'. It was rather an unbecoming situation when he stumbled at her doors.

Either she was hiding something or he was forgetting a major detail somewhere.

By evening the kids came around with their stomachs grumbling. Sasuke raised a brow at an embarrassed Sarada, grinning tadpole and majorly at himself because of how poor his cooking skills were. Suddenly he wished for Hinata to magically hear the urgency that hung in the atmosphere. A very awkward silence later sarada cleared her throat then suggested they should work on it together. Hyuga tadpole asked where her oka San was and Sasuke told her she was sleeping. She didn't seem to understand at first yet nodded her head. Sarada was chewing her insides, showering her an empathetic look. She must have felt the disturbance in the environment.

For a quick and less measly fix, the jagged shaped vegetables were thrown in a boiling pot of water. Sarada with her brows furrowed threw in potions, flavoured dust from the counters in intervals of time. After a debatable amount of time the stove was switched off and the soup or what Sasuke called in his mind; diarrhoea potion was served.

It seemed his daughter inherited her mother's ability or rather inability to stew.

When the Hyuga tadpole tasted it her face contorted into one of blanching then she shoved sympathetic looks to both of them. Oh how the tables turn.

She scurried around the kitchen picking up another handful of vials and poured them little here, little there. Sasuke heard her chanting, "oka-san would probably add this, then stirr, then add that…. " The concentration her face held while, the confidence with which she waltzed around reminded him whose daughter she was, painfully so. After she was done she proudly served them. Sasuke hesitantly tasted her serving that looked worst but what could be? He tasted for the sake of it, shinobi learn to endure. He blinked a couple of times because acknowledging her and dug in the dish. Sarada coed her with a lot of compliments, her little feet dangled across the dining.

Seems like it wasn't just one of them who inherited abilities from their mother, this one however was a proud success.

Suddenly the little girl did not seemed so little anymore.

Suddenly the thought of 'what if' or a secret wish of his daughter having the same mother as the little tadpole crossed his mind.

Suddenly he wasn't so repulsed.

Suddenly he found himself asking for seconds.

Suddenly he wasn't irritated by the banter and girly giggles across the table.

And not so suddenly he poked their foreheads.

That night he stood by her bed as she slept; deeply breathing and him keenly observing that indeed she was sleeping only. He tucked both the girls in bed. For sasuke tucked was a pretentious word for shoving kids in the bed. They shared tadpole's bed and though it didn't have enough space for them to roll around they cramped themselves in happily. Tadpole was against the wall squished with blankets while sarada insisted she wanted to sleep on the edge. Her arms were clumsily draped across the other one. It gave him painful flashbacks.

He stiffened when memories of his childhood hit him like a strong gust of wind. Itachi. He groaned, uncomfortable water formed in his eyes. It has been years yet the wound remained so fresh. The sharp blade did his job once; a neat cut right where his physiological heart was. The scabbard however over years kept bludgeoned the wound making blood and muscles splatter everywhere. The clothes were tainted with blood of others and his body with his own. The pain palpitated in his head like a bunch of bandits cudgeling a poor man's door. He accepted it as a part of his redemption. Enduring after all was easier than resisting.

Tonight however his endurance reached limit. He begged for the scabbard to halt, he begged for his mind to show him the memories he was too afraid to see. One bloody hand held the scabbard as he collapsed on his knees. He was a familiar picture; his family. He saw Mother smiling, her sweet laugh like wind chimes on a spring day, he saw his father standing proud; heads high with stoic face, he saw Itachi; his eyes pinched into a smile the solemn lines of his face exaggerated by the game of sun and shadow. He saw with longing madness as his hand with two fingers pausing in the mid air. He saw himself, a shrunken version of him run to his older brother with his cheeks slightly blushing at the affection. He saw another picture of them leaving, their backs to his face. His own small hands tied with chains, screaming, floundering within the prison.

He wanted to follow them.

He wanted to hold his mother's hand.

He wanted to learn another cool jutsu from his father.

He wanted to climb his brother's back.

He wanted to kiss her mother's cheek.

He wanted to stand proud in front of his father.

He wanted to share the disgustingly lovely taste of dango with his brother.

He wanted to frown when his mother ruffled his head.

He wanted to challenge his father to a pushup competition.

He wanted to keep staring awe struck as Itachi trained in the woods.

He wanted… he wanted to be with his family.

He bit his tongue and lips. Heavy bleeding followed but what hurt more was the stream of tears that didn't seem so obedient anymore.

His hands didn't dare to cover his face. They fell limp across his body. He saw visuals of chains still bound to his wrists. He remained the same, weak and alone. This time however the lingering view of his family faded. He felt what he was trying himself to convince he couldn't, he was lonely. He was hurting. He was missing.

He was terribly missing his family.

Sarada watched with stifled melancholy as the reflection of her father broke down like a fine piece of terracotta into crumbles that pierced feet. She saw his moment of weakness when he left the doorway of hope and beseeched God, if any ever present to let him follow his family. She controlled her breathing but her eyes wailed, tears soiling the pillow covers.

He managed to get himself on feet to drag himself to Hyuga. He couldn't trust a weak layer of chakra to hold her down. He was concerned the chakra simmered down. He crossed the threshold of her bedroom to find her wide eyed sitting on the edge of bed clutching the blanket for dear life. When she saw him she launched himself upon him. Her toes barely touched the ground as her arms were tightly wound around his neck.

He wished she couldn't smell the tears on him even though he left that poncho on the couch.

She buried her face deeper in his neck grasping the nape of his neck.

"Are you okay?"She smelled like jasmine, like mother, like a dream wrecked. Her whispered voice reached his ears and before he had a chance he broke down into a flood of tears. Holding her tight against him he wept, wept and wept till his soul was tired enough to lay on the threshold of his lifeline.

He thought they would get better until she had her third and suicidal attack. He found her not breathing, limbs limp across and blue lips that resembled dead bodies he saw years ago on the floors of his blood stained home.

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